#I thought I actually had pretty good vision aside from some light sensitivity

[sweetest-honeybee]

I got my eyes checked for the first time in like a decade and discovered today that my eyes suck at focusing properly :D

And some astigmatism but now I get to have glasses so that’s noice 👌🏻👌🏻

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 6)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

series summary:  bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (in the form of road head lmao) plus some more implied smut and teasing and stuff, use of 'y/n' which is perfectly fine but it still makes me anxious cause I've never done it before, other than that just fluff and celebrity/PR stuff

You tilted your head slightly as you watched Bucky emerge from the pool, slicking his wet hair back out of his face, body dripping with cool droplets that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.

Yeah, you were never going to get tired of this view.

“See somethin’ you like?” he grinned as he grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his hair before lowering it to dab off his shoulders and torso, his dog tags jingling lightly when he bumped against them.

“Yeah, why don’t you come over here and put that body on me?” you purred. He chuckled and stepped closer, tossing the damp towel aside before leaning down to climb onto your pool chair and hover above you; the dog tags hung low and tickled your stomach, making you giggle a little.

“I don’t know that I should, I actually have a girlfriend…” he explained, feigning hesitance as you sat up slightly to nibble at his jaw.

“You know, a lot of couples have a ‘celebrity pass,’ and I just so happen to be a celebrity… do you two have one of those?”

“Maybe we do,” he replied nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Who’s yours?”

“This really hot girl I saw once, in this really crappy movie,” he winked.

“Hey!” you laughed, shoving him back. “Which one of my movies is crappy?”

“What makes you think you’re the hot girl I’m talking about?” he countered.

“Oh, you’re really trying to get yourself in trouble.”

“Just to be clear— we’re not going to have any celebrity passes, right?" he frowned. "Because you know a lot of famous people and I don’t like those odds.”

You scoffed. “Definitely not.”

“Good. I can only handle one famous woman at a time anyways,” he chuckled.

//

He, meanwhile, would never get tired of waking up beside you, holding you before you were even really aware of anything yet, feeling you stir in his arms and snuggle up close to his chest.

“Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he whispered, smiling a little as your eyes fluttered but didn’t really open.

You just hummed and shifted again, looking so peaceful that he couldn’t help but kiss your forehead. “Mornin’, beautiful,” he purred.

And there was the best part of every morning: when you opened your eyes and looked up at him for the first time, and you smiled— actually smiled at the sight of him. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody was this happy to see him. He couldn’t imagine what he’d ever done to deserve it.

“Hi,” you greeted coyly.

“Hey there,” he grinned back. His eyebrow raised when he felt your foot delicately trail up the back of his leg, your hips beginning to straddle his. “Got somethin’ on your mind, pretty girl?”

“Maaaaybe…”

He chuckled, always impressed (in the best possible way) by your insatiability. “Already?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “had a dream about you.”

“Care to enlighten me?” he prodded, rubbing your back with his metal hand.

“You had me bent over the bed…” you began, voice a bit lower than normal.

“Good start.”

“In my trailer," you finished.

“Oh, you’re filming in this dream?”

“Well, we weren’t filming right then," you grinned, and Bucky clenched his jaw just imagining the idea of filming you while he fucked you. Much too risky when celebrity sex tapes always seem to end up leaking, but a fun thought nonetheless. "But you made me promise to keep quiet in case somebody heard us. Said you didn’t want anybody else to know how I sound when I come.”

He smirked. “Seems like something I would say.”

“But really I liked the idea of everybody overhearing and knowing how good you make me feel… I want them all to know I’m yours.”

“Sounds like a nice dream,” he smirked, shivering slightly when you leaned in to start kissing his neck and jaw.

“Feel like making my dreams come true, stud?” you purred.

“Yes,” he admitted tensely, “but we don’t have time. You have a meeting at 9, remember?”

“No no no, we have time,” you assured. “We both know how fast you can make me come.”

“No point in doing something if you’re not gonna do it right,” he frowned, “and I don’t have time to do it right.”

“You really are just completely against quickies, aren’t you?”

“Morally and religiously, yes," he announced firmly as he puffed up his chest.

“Religiously?” you repeated with an eyeroll.

“Making you come at least three times is sacred,” he explained. “I worship your body. The shapes I make with my tongue on your clit? I’m spelling out my prayers.”

“You do spend a lot of time on your knees,” you remembered.

“Yeah, well, so do you,” he winked. “But you really do need to get up. And I need to shower before I go warm the car up.”

“Fine," you groaned, wrenching yourself out of his grasp and hopping out of bed.

"That's the spirit," he laughed, getting up with you and starting his own morning routine.

He had to keep you in check to make sure you were ready on time, but with a little encouragement he was able to get you in the car with even some time to spare. And since it was just the two of you and you weren't going to be seen getting out of the car, you could ride passenger and be closer to him.

"What's this meeting about again?" he asked as he took the car around the driveway and out of the front gate, starting the commute to the address you'd given him.

"Director wants me for a project, we're gonna talk about her vision and see if it's a good fit."

"Have you seen a script yet?" he asked, hoping that you'd let him take a look at it if you had.

"No, it's still being written, but the concept sounds amazing. I'll tell you all about it after the meeting," you promised.

He checked the estimated arrival time on the GPS screen and noticed it was even faster than he anticipated.

"Hey, we've got some room for error— do you wanna stop for breakfast?" he offered.

"I want breakfast, but I don't wanna stop," you decided.

"What, like drive-through?" he asked, but then you suddenly reached across the console and slid your hand over his thigh and right over his groin. "Oh, fuck."

You smirked as you leaned in a little bit, resting your head on his shoulder as he started to grow hard in your palm. "Keep your eyes on the road, okay?"

"O-okay," he nodded a little, shifting in his seat to make it easier for you to undo his belt and fly.

You reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his shaft— even just that made him shiver and blink a few times to try to focus on driving. Your fingers were a little cold but it was welcome relief considering he was suddenly burning up.

A few strokes were enough to get him fully hard, and it took a deep breath to keep him together as you leaned your head down into his lap, giving a slow lick right over his tip. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, but you definitely heard it because he could feel your smirk as you kissed up and down his length.

Just when he was about to beg for it, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked, gentle at first but slowly getting more aggressive as he fought the urge to buck up into your mouth.

"Oh god," he sighed, head falling back onto the headrest. Your tongue swiped over his slit where precum had gathered already, and it was just another reminder that you'd already found all his most sensitive places and planned to use them against him whenever you could.

A little hum echoing in your throat vibrated through his cock, making him hiss a little as you started to set your pace of bobbing up and down and stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Little drops of your spit rolled down the shaft to his balls and if he wasn't trying to hard to look at the other cars on the road he would've let his eyes roll back in his head.

Finally, a red light gave him a chance to take his hands off the wheel and grab your hair, stroke your back, hold your face— he didn't really care what, he just needed to touch you.

"Baby," he groaned, "fuck, you're so good… keep sucking my cock, just like that, oh my god—"

A car horn tore him from the moment and made him realize the light had turned green. One hand quickly shot up to steer as he let his foot up off the brake, breathing through his teeth as you sucked him harder and deeper.

Just as he put his foot on the gas, you took him down your throat until your lips met with the very base of him, and the shock made his leg jerk and sent the car lurching forward.

You were laughing a little as you pulled off of him, still stroking his soaking wet length as you popped up to glance out the windshield and then up at him. "Drive much?"

"All the time," he defended breathlessly, "but, uh, not usually like this."

"You can handle it," you scoffed. "All you need to do is not hit any cars or poles or pedestrians. Just relax and let me get my breakfast…"

You went back down with a smirk as he exhaled sharply, silently promising himself that he was going to keep his cool and drive safely.

Instantly, the tip of your tongue just barely pushing into his slit sent that plan out the window, a loud moan echoing through the car and his eyes falling shut for only a moment.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned.

You let out a coy little giggle before getting back into it, returning to your reliable pattern of stroking and sucking with the occasional venture into the back of your throat— but this time gaining speed steadily, making his toes curl inside his boots and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

His metal hand had a death grip on the steering wheel while his other stroked your hair and held you down just a moment longer each time your throat wrapped around his head.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna— oh god—" he tried to warn you.

You moaned approvingly, stroking your hand and bobbing your head faster.

His turn was coming up and he needed to get two lanes over, but at this point he accepted that he was going to miss the turn because he just needed to come down your throat right fucking now; he didn't even hear the GPS announcing that it was recalculating the route, he didn't even care that he was driving way too slow, all he could perceive was the feeling of your lips around him as he throbbed with each pump of his load onto your tongue.

"Fuuuuckkkk," he gasped as he held you down at your neck, making sure you got every drop. But that backfired pretty quickly when he let go and you still didn't come back up, sucking as if he hadn't come at all. "Oh— oh fuck!" he yelped, and his fears that his eyes would fall shut were gone because they were wide fucking open now, his breathing coming fast and hot through his teeth as your tongue refused to let up.

Your little moans made it clear this was not an accident, but a deliberate attack on his senses that made his entire body jolt.

He tried to pull you off of him, and you resisted for just a moment before finally giving him a break, popping up from his lap to swallow what was in your mouth and lick your lips with a prideful smirk. He allowed himself a quick glance at your satisfied expression as he laughed exhaustedly, still trying to catch his breath as you leaned back in your seat.

"You are…" he began, but he didn't even know where to start. "That was dangerous," he decided to inform you instead.

"But it was fun," you grinned.

Another red light gave him a chance to tuck his softened cock back into his jeans. "We're just a few minutes away, so I don't have time to return the favor," he realized with a frown.

"Don't sweat it, I get the feeling you're gonna more than make it up to me tonight."

"What makes you so sure?" he smirked, even though you were completely right.

"Because I'm gonna take you out somewhere fancy, and you always put out after I buy you dinner," you explained with a chuckle.

"It's cause every time we go out, I have to act all professional and stuff, so when we get home I just can't wait to get my hands on you again."

He pulled in to the parking garage of the studio, finding a spot before turning off the car. You were about to grab your bag but he pulled you into a kiss; not so desperate since he'd just come two minutes ago, but still plenty passionate as his tongue slid over yours in search of the taste of himself to remember what you'd done even clearer.

Your lips moved against his with a quiet little moan, so precious that he couldn't stop himself from gripping your waist tightly.

"You're sure you can't be a few minutes late?" he mumbled, barely pulling back as he reached up and held your face in his hands. "We could get in the back and you could ride me real quick."

"Ah ah ah, we know there's no 'real quick' with you, you said it yourself," you reminded him. "You'll say it's just to take the edge off and then I'll end up folded like a pretzel while you rail me for an hour."

He laughed; he couldn't deny that. "Fair enough. Go to your stupid meeting."

"It won't even take that long," you promised. "And I'll be thinking of you the whole time… hard not to when sucking you off got me so wet."

"Fuck," he growled, "you'd better leave now before I change my mind and make you stay."

You smiled and gave him a peck on the nose before opening the door and getting out of the car. He took a moment to watch you walk away before grabbing his newest borrowed book from the glovebox: Tuck Everlasting. You promised this one wouldn't make him cry which was the only way he agreed to read it because he couldn't handle another sad ending again. And, because he was a little too in love to think straight, he actually believed you.

He hadn't told you yet, though; it was way, way too early for him to feel this way at all, let alone tell you about it. For now, the two of you had something great going, and he didn't want to rush it. Well, he did want to rush it, but he knew he shouldn't, so he kept his feelings to himself for the time being.

//

You were heating up some Vietnamese leftovers on the stove (you’d taught Bucky to stop using the microwave to reheat noodles and now he would never go back) while your boyfriend relaxed on the couch, attempting to find something decent to watch with your meal.

“Hey, one of your movies is on later,” he noticed as he scrolled through the channels. “We could watch that.”

Maybe it was weird that you watched your own movies pretty often— after all, plenty of actors preferred to avoid seeing their own performance— but it made perfect sense to you; you took roles in the kinds of movies that you enjoyed watching and wanted to see more of. It wasn’t that you sought out something you’d been in to watch, and it definitely wasn’t that you didn’t cringe a little watching yourself, but you just happened to like a lot of the things that you’d been in. Plus, they brought back sweet memories. “Oh, which one?” you asked, focusing mainly on stirring the food in the wok.

“After Midnight,” he informed you, and your smile dropped.

“Oh. Um, I don’t like that one,” you dismissed quickly, “what else could we watch?”

“Really?” he pressed, unfortunately not following your segue. “It’s pretty popular… I never saw it, sorry, but I figured I should. Is it not good?”

“No, it’s good, it just—”

“Then what don’t you like about it?”

“Do you not know that I did that movie with Sam Wilson?” you finally blurted out.

“Oh…” he deflated slightly. “You two dated, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, over a year,” you remembered, sounding more somber than you intended.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories,” he frowned, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No, it’s okay, it’s not bad memories,” you soothed.

“Well, I didn’t mean to bring up any good memories either,” he smirked. “I guess you guys were pretty serious?”

“I thought so,” you answered, leaving the silent second half hanging in the air: He didn’t.

“Kinda sucks you can’t watch your own movie just ‘cause your ex is in it,” he realized.

“Yeah, that one’s especially hard since that’s how we met and all… and I was basically the only person on the planet who didn’t watch Code Gray while it was on,” you remembered. “I mean, everyone was talking about it and I just had to smile and nod and try to ignore the big-ass billboards in LA with his face on them. You get used to that last part, though.”

“Maybe you get used to it, but I don’t think I will,” he admitted.

“I guess it’s easier when you’ve already seen your own face on a billboard,” you shrugged, turning off the stove and distributing the food into two bowls.

"That reminds me, I saw your perfume ad on the side of a skyscraper yesterday," he told you proudly.

"Oh yeah? How's it look?" you asked as you stuck some chopsticks into the food and brought it with you to the living room.

"Looks good, I guess, but it doesn't really look like you to me. You're so airbrushed I couldn't see all my favorite little details of your face," he admitted as you set the bowls on the coffee table.

"That's the nature of the game," you shrugged, joining him on the couch and relaxing against his chest as he embraced you.

“Dating in the public eye must be tough…” he mumbled. You twiddled your thumbs and wondered if that meant he didn’t want to go public with you. He must have sensed your discomfort; he always did. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

"Would you ever want to… you know… go public? I wouldn't blame you if you'd rather stay this way as long as possible—"

"What?!" he scoffed. "Baby… I don't care about the spotlight, for better or for worse, I just care about you. And I want to shout it from the fucking rooftops if you'll let me."

You grinned and snuggled up into his arms. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he hummed.

“We could, you know… start that process, if you wanted.”

“What about what you want?” he pressed instead.

“I want everybody to know,” you decided with a smile that you tried (and failed) to fight. “I want to be able to go out with you and not worry about who sees or how you touch me.”

He grinned and kissed you, gentle but a little bit less than innocent. "I want that too," he whispered.

"Then let's do it," you announced giddily. "But, let's have dinner first."

//

He was reading as he waited for you in bed, starting to pick up on the fact that you'd duped him into another heartbreaking read. He was about to confront you about it when you returned from the hallway, but you spoke first.

"I just got off the phone with my publicist," you informed him, "she thinks we should get papped together before I post about it on Instagram."

"'Get papped'?" he repeated incredulously as he slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the novel aside. "Is that some sort of hip slang for getting a pap smear because, I'll warn you now, I’m pretty sure anatomy dictates that we can't do that together."

"Paparazzi," you clarified unamusedly as you got in bed next to him. "She wants us to go to lunch or something and tip off a few photographers; it'll be in the gossip rags by tomorrow."

"God, being famous sounds weird as fuck," he shivered.

"You'll find out for yourself soon," you warned, half ominous and half humorous, as you laid your head on his chest. "You're gonna have your own following once this hits."

He grimaced a little, afraid of becoming slightly famous in his own rite just for dating you when he didn't actually have any talent worthy of attention or praise. “Oh god, I’m not gonna have to make an Instagram, am I?”

"No, but you might want to consider a tinted moisturizer," you pondered aloud as you suddenly examined his face closely.

He gently batted your hand away as you reached up to poke his cheek. "Okay, I get it, I'm old. Makeup ain't gonna fix that."

"You're not old," you laughed, "and it's not that there's anything wrong with your face, it's just that everybody looks washed out on camera and the magazines and their readers are fucking ruthless. If I go out without mascara they'll start running shit about how I'm turning into a crypt keeper. God forbid I wear a tight shirt after eating a massive burrito; they'll pick out baby names for me."

"Christ," he groaned.

"You still wanna do this right?" you asked quietly, shifting from joking to concerned so quickly.

"Of course," he assured, clutching your hand where it had been absent-mindedly rubbing over his chest hair. "Do you?"

"Yeah," you smiled, relaxing again. "I can't wait, honestly."

"Then let's do the lunch thing tomorrow. You have to help me pick what to wear, though." Your arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him tight. "Ooh, don't squeeze me so hard, I ate a lot of Vietnamese food," he frowned.

"Sorry," you giggled, still holding him close but applying less pressure. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, instinctively stroking your arm with his thumb for a moment before leaning over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table.

Yes, his bedside table, with a drawer full of his stuff. Next to your bed. It was like his wildest (yet most domestic) fantasies coming true and he was beside himself about it.

"G'night," you whispered, cuddling up closer to him.

"Goodnight," he whispered back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. He stayed awake just long enough to hear your breathing and feel your heartbeat as they slowed down, only then allowed himself to fall asleep as well.

//

You'd convinced him to stick to his usual style of 90% leather and denim, while you opted for the classic "I'm famous but I'm pretending I'm normal but I'm definitely not" look of jeans and a t-shirt that looked casual but actually cost nearly a grand combined. It was the ideal look for allegedly-candid pap pics, in your mind; unfortunately, the ribs were wanted to order were not part of that look, and you frowned a little as you ordered your salad and gave the menu back to your waitress.

"I'll have the same," Bucky mumbled quickly and handed his menu over as well, the waitress nodding before she stepped away.

"Salad? Really?" you questioned, fixing your hair for a moment since the breeze had messed it up slightly; you had to sit outside for visibility reasons, and thankfully the weather was gorgeous, but you could do without the wind.

"I'm not stupid, I know better than to unhinge my jaw to eat a burger when I'm going to be photographed," he chuckled. "I'm not hungry anyways, I'm too nervous."

"Don't be nervous," you dismissed, "all you have to do is sit here and not suppress the instinct to act like my boyfriend."

He reached forward and rested his hand on top of yours on the table, stroking your wrist with his thumb. "How about this?"

You smiled a little, feeling your face warm; sometimes he made you feel all shy and giddy like that, just from the simplest things.

“So, when are the paparazzi getting here?” he asked, breaking the silence that you hadn't even really noticed before, too lost in your thoughts.

“They’re already here. Across the street, behind those bushes.”

“Wha— oh my god,” Bucky gasped as he craned his head to see there were, in fact, cameras obscured behind the foliage, “they’re good!”

“Yeah, it’s too bad they use their powers for evil most of the time,” you frowned. “Spent a lot of time and money trying to keep less flattering pictures out of the papers.”

“How ‘less flattering’ are we talking here?” he pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“Unfortunate angles while getting out of a car… maybe a rendezvous on a balcony that we thought was totally private…”

“Do I want to know who the ‘we’ was?”

“Nope,” you grinned. "That's all in the past now… and right now I'm here with you." For emphasis, you slipped one of your shoes off and playfully trailed your foot up his leg.

"Careful there, honey, or you're gonna end up with some more dirty pictures to bribe some sleaze into deleting," he warned with a smirk.

"Just gotta make sure these pictures make it clear we're not just friends," you explained, shrugging a little but wiggling your toes as you moved just past his knee before going back down and slipping your shoe on.

"Maybe we're just really, really good friends."

"Ever gotten this personal at lunch with a really, really good friend?" you asked playfully.

"No, I don't think so…"

"Ever had sex in the bathroom of a really fancy restaurant?" you added, voice dropping as you grinned.

"No, and I never will," he laughed, "because the chances of getting caught are astronomically too high. We literally came here for the express purpose of getting caught."

"Yeah, fair enough," you deflated slightly, taking another bite of your salad.

It was easy after that: just talking with him as naturally as you always did. He glanced over at the hidden photographers occasionally but you'd all but forgotten they were there.

"Well, I think our job here is done," you decided after a half hour had passed. You stood up from your chair and he followed suit, but he stopped you before you turned away.

"Not quite yet," he smirked as he pulled you closer and into a kiss— one that just barely pushed into 'a little too steamy for out in public' territory. Even so, he was the one that had to pull away first because you quickly got so lost in it that you would've let him go on forever. "Now we're done."

"Yep, that'll do it!" you laughed, hugging him quickly before dropping a fifty on the table (it was a 40% tip but who cares) and leading him back to the car.

//

His phone was already set to give him news updates about you, and he smirked when he checked it after dinner only to see your plan already in motion so easily.

New photos spark Y/N Y/L/N dating rumors

Is Y/N Y/L/N dating again after highly-publicized romance with ‘Code Gray’ star Sam Wilson?

‘Touch of Blood,’ ‘After Midnight’ Star Spotted At More-Than-Friendly Lunch with Her Bodyguard

Y/N Y/L/N and Mystery Guy Get Frisky Over Salads at Lazan Bistro In The Lower East Side

“Now we just have to wait until tomorrow,” you smirked. “Is it weird that I’m all jittery about it? I mean, it doesn’t really matter, cause we’re the only thing that matters, but—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m excited too,” he agreed, setting his phone down and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Although I am enjoying my last day of anonymity.”

“Soak it in, Bucky-boy, most of us don’t get the chance to really appreciate it before it’s gone,” you giggled. “You should go out and celebrate— go grocery shopping, see a movie, something I can’t do anymore.”

“If you can’t do it anymore, does that mean you’re not coming with me?”

“That’s sort of the point.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

“You’re so needy,” you rolled your eyes. “But I like it,” you added with a peck to his cheek.

“Need anything from the grocery store? Or the movie theater?”

“All I need is a kiss before you go,” you decided.

He purred and pulled you a little closer, ghosting his lips over your cheek. “Do I get to pick where it is?”

“Above the belt,” you scolded playfully.

“That still gives me plenty of options,” he smiled as he leaned down to lift your shirt up, deciding to place his slow, gentle kiss onto your nipple. He wrapped his lips around it carefully, circling his tongue around the bud as it hardened.

“Oh fuck,” you sighed, weaving your fingers into his hair.

He grinned and looked up at you, pulling away just a little too soon to hear your pretty whines. Who’s the needy one now? “Can I give you one more kiss, on the other one?”

“Only in the interest of symmetry,” you smirked, moaning when he moved to the other nipple and sucked it a little harder than the last. He let his teeth just barely graze the sensitive skin, your body jolting in his arms at the sensation.

“Oh, I bit this one but not the first one,” he realized, “so I’m gonna have to go back. For symmetry.”

He kissed his way back and gave a rough lap over it before sucking it between his lips and using his teeth just like he’d promised. “God, just fuck me.”

“Really? I thought you wanted me to go out without you,” he remembered.

“Later,” you sighed, “need you now.”

A prideful grin stretched over his face as he stood back up and held you tight, tapping your back to instruct you to jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his hips— which you did instinctively, much to his delight. “Okay, pretty girl, let’s get you to bed.”

[arans-princess]

Please?

Alpha!Bokuto x Omega!reader SMUT

Cw: Slight dub-con a/b/o dynamics very very slight somnophilia at the beginning. I think that’s everything. 

An: so this started as me being horny on main in a discord I’m a part of, and then I kept typing. No beta, we die like men. 

 You were awakened but the grunts your lover was letting free fall. Groggy you ask “what wrong?” Then the smell hits you dead in the face. Your alpha is in a rut. When he notices your awake, he keens whining and begging for you to help him. He looks so helpless. He eyes are glossy, his cheeks are flushed, he’s sweaty and panting all while bucking his hips in to his fist. “Please” is the only whimper he can muster. See he’s been away for a few months and had to got through two whole ruts with out you. Poor thing. Now his back home, you’re in his arms and he is horny. 

You wake up fully and replace his hands with your mouth. He grabs your hips and positions your legs on either side of his face, your cunt quickly growing damp the smell of your mate in his rut is triggering your own. He pulls your cunt to his face to prep you for his phat cock. You take the tip in to your mouth and suck gently, working your way down his length as you go. The girth makes your jaw burn but the way he moans in to your heat makes it all worth it you deep throat him taking his whole length into your mouth and throat and swallow hard remembering to breathe through your nose, that’s all it takes for him to be thrown over the edge, he cums so hard he bucks in to your mouth uncontrollably an accidentally bites down on your clit. The sharp pain sends you reeling, what should have hurt only fans the flame in your belly, you want your first orgasm of the night to be on his dick. Bo has recovered in nanoseconds from his orgasm and begins whimpering once again. You move off his face and straddle his lap, looking him in his eyes as you sink down on to him. He looks so desperate, his rut has replaced any rational thought, the lust crazed madness in his eyes, the desire he hold within them makes your pussy gush. You only have taken the tip into your heat and the burning stretch it makes, has you whimpering. 

He cannot control himself once he feels hir tip enter you, he hasn’t been able to go through his rut properly for months and all of that pent up lust comes bubbling to the surface, his hands grasp your hips and force your to take his cock in one thrust, your scream is somewhere between pleasure and agony this brings back some of his rational thought. He allows you to adjust and begin moving in your own, after awhile the feeling of him inside you eradicates the pain and replaces it with want. You need to move. Quickly you begin to bounce on his cock your clit hits his pelvic bone as your hips meet, the dual sensation rapidly builds your orgasm; he is mesmerized under you, the blissed expression and the way you tits jiggle on top of him makes his mouth water. He sits up so he can catch a nip and sucks on it. He takes one hand off your hip and fondles the other boob with it. Him playing with your sensitive nipples sends you tumbling over the edge. He fucks you through this orgasm, an another, an another. Four orgasms he has pulled from your body, in turn he has pumped you full three times but he still hasn’t knotted you yet. 

At some point he is using your helpless little body as a flesh light, both hands on your waist forcing you up and down on his cock. Your cunt is so sensitive a slight breeze will make you whimper. Your crying, to make him stop and keep going at the same time. It’s too much, yet not enough. Your nerves are on fire your clawing at his chest and shoulders to ground yourself but it’s useless. You don’t have control of your limbs any more. Bo keeps chanting in your ear “mate mate mate mate” a mantra on repeat, his thrusts pick up speed and power, you attempt to Brace yourself by pulling his torso closer to you nails digging into the nape of his neck. And more warmth spreads throughout your body he fucks you through his own orgasm his tip battering your cervix relentlessly and yet he doesn’t stop. You are Beyond overstimulation and you’re sure he should be there too but those months away I’ve taken a toll, that’s when you realize through your fucked out haze he is experiencing three months of rut all at once. Any attempt to snap him out of it is futile as he is running on pure instincts now. 

It doesn’t even feel good anymore. Well actually you can’t feel anything, your cunt has been pummeled and your heat has subsided due to the amount of cum he has pumped in to you. You voice is hoarse, your cries cannot be heard. You pull back to look at his face and his is crying too. Poor baby he just wants to knott his pretty omega but for some unknown reason not matter how hard he tries his body won’t let him. You want him to stop, your legs hurt. The grip he has on your waist hurts your whole body rejects being used but when you look at his eyes and see how desperate he is you push your feelings aside and endure for him. Suddenly he flips you over on your back and folds you legs up, with your knees pressed into the mattress by your ears he fucks you twice as hard as he was before, using gravity to slam even harder he cums yet again but it’s still not enough, he need to feel you clamp down on him. He takes one hand to toy with your clit and your whimpers resume, with the added stimulation and the slight change in his angle, he is now hitting your g spot directly you feel one last orgasm approach he can feel your walls flutter weakly, suddenly his heavy hand slaps your clit. The same force he uses to spike is used on your clit the pain reignites your senses, suddenly you’re not numb anymore, you can feel every vein, the difference in size from his thick mushroom tip to the knot that is now growing ever so rapidly. You keen in pleasured pain and then you squirt, you clamp down so hard he has to fight to keep his cock inside you, he cum almost gets backed up in his balls but then suddenly shoots out.  His knot swells to almost the size of two golf balls, he cums so hard his vision blurs, chanting “mine, mega, mine, my mate” until he collapses.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom​ and @bbibbisan​ for doing a sensitivity read! 

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta​

[needleanddead]

remember when i was like ‘i will probably use this blog to write some horrible reader-insert fanfiction too’? yeah. 

knife-edge, strade x reader, 3.2k

trigger warnings: not sfw, non-con, blood, violence, gore, references to torture/snuff films, honestly i figure you probably know what you’re getting into if you’re seeing this. reader uses no pronouns/neutral pronouns but is vaguely implied to be afab. 

cross-posted to ao3

You do not know how you still have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg.

Well.

That’s a lie, really; you have it in you to scream, and cry, and beg, because you know that the moment you stop – the moment you let yourself truly succumb to that pit of nothingness that lies heavy and waiting in your chest – he will lose interest in you completely, and you will meet the same fate as all of the rest of them do.

Despite the shock collar that lies heavy around your throat; the proof that he had seen some value in you beyond what you might feel like if he tore you into pieces and let you rot, you know that any peace you have here is temporary. He’ll get bored. He’ll lose control. He’ll--

Sometimes you wonder if those things might be better. The idea of death hovers at the edges of your vision like a spectre, waiting for you – and you are a coward and you run from it, whimpering and sensitive with tears rolling down your cheeks whenever he takes you back down the creaking basement stairs and wraps rope around already rubbed-raw wrists.

You don’t think you’d recognise the sight of your own wrists without the rope burn any more. It seems so long since you’ve been anything other than captive. You’re not sure you even know who you are unless you have a blade half-buried in your thigh or thick fingers digging and reopening wounds or pliers too close to vulnerable flesh.

You think he likes that, too – that you don’t seem to exist unless you’re hurting. Delights that he’s broken you without breaking the part of you that he really likes; the one with the trembling lip and the gasping and the tears beading in your eyes. You beg less now; you have learnt that he’s always able to turn a ‘please, please don’t, not that--’ into something that’s somehow worse. But when you’d first woken up all rope-burnt and disoriented with your arms wrapped around a pole in a basement that smelt like copper and oil, you had begged until your throat was sore.

What you had gotten for your troubles was your own hand wrapped around the knife handle as you sliced into too soft, too giving flesh and stared in horror at bubbling rivulets of blood with the dim thought in the back of your mind; I did this to myself.

It’s a dangerous knife-edge that you’re walking; don’t fight too much, but don’t give in too much. Don’t break, but don’t entirely yield. If he gets bored of you, or if you push him too far – then the collar around your neck will be carefully unlocked and you’ll regret everything. You’ll meet the fate that you so narrowly avoided, bleeding and broken and disoriented as your life slips away to the tune of Strade’s fingers wrapped too hard about your throat.

Or worse, you’ll meet the fate you’ve seen some of the ones who have broken too early become acquainted with; bandana wrapped around his mouth and camera painstakingly readjusted to perfectly centre a sobbing, terrified face. You have been far too close to the ones who end up that way; brought down to the basement and given a nail gun as you’re shoved onto your knees in front of a girl who might once have been pretty but is a little too matted with blood and bruises to be called the same any more.

“I thought they might like to see someone else hurt her this time, schatzi,” his smile had not dimmed a watt. When you had first met him, that smile had put you at ease; his eyes had reminded you of honey, and you’d been so flattered, so warmed, to have the attention of someone who oozed easy charm--

You know now his eyes are not the soft amber of honey but the sharp yellow-orange of a hawk; a predator. When he had smiled at you, he had not been thinking of the kindness of making someone feel comfortable – he had merely been imagining how prettily you would break. Which, as he had not failed to tell you after you’d sobbed out every plea you could and had jagged stitches and broken bones and blood crusted on your face to prove it, had been even more lovely than he had imagined.

The nail gun had been too heavy in your hand; the trigger sweaty, because Strade himself was over-excited and flushed dark pink under tanned skin and excitement beading at his brow. Your fingers had slipped all over it as he’d murmured;

“They want you to put a pretty pattern in her up her shins to her knees. Start at the . . . haa, start at the ankle--”

You’d felt something inside of you snap as if it was very far away as you stared at her legs; already cut up a little and stitched messily, as Strade is so wont to do to make sure his captives last longer. You hesitate too long, because suddenly thick, strong fingers are gripping your jaw and squeezing too hard as they turn your face towards the camera like a rabbit caught in headlights.

His fingers will bruise your face, you know – and he will see it tomorrow, and dig them harder, make the bruises deeper until you can barely open your jaw--

“Ah, they think you’re cute, mäuschen,” Strade says, an uncomfortable lilt in his voice that sets your teeth on edge. “They’d be happy to see you as the star instead – and I’m sure our other guest would much prefer it too.”

(The girl in the chair leans forward, babbling words that don’t make sense; bubbling drool slips from her lips, tinged pink, and you think that this one must have talked too much and Strade has done something to her tongue).

“Now,” his tone is endlessly patient. “You know I want to keep you, ja? You’re very sweet. I like you a lot - so be good and do what the audience want, and I won’t have to do something I don’t want to, will I?”

He is hard to read. Cheerful to angry in moments; snapping and bouncing from side to side with a laugh and a wild light in his eyes that you don’t understand. He does like you – insofar as you think Strade is capable of really feeling for other people – but you can’t wager your life on him bluffing. The girl looks at you with agonised eyes and you pull the trigger, the nose of the gun pressed against her ankle.

You hear her scream – wet, through a throat clogged with blood, the sound mixing with the disgusting crunch-squelch of the nail being driven into her skin too close to the bone – and it echoes far longer in your head than it actually lasts. You feel far away as you trail the gun further up her leg, pulling the trigger, your marks on her surprisingly straight considering how much the both of you are trembling – but you know you’re crying because you can hear Strade breathing a little heavy, see the bulge in his pants (level with your face) from the corner of your eye as you finish the first leg and move to the second.

It’s not the last time he makes you hurt someone on stream. Sometimes, he checks the stream whilst you’re there and whichever poor soul he’s got taped to a chair whimpers and squirms, whistling cheerily through his teeth as if the situation is perfectly normal. You see the comments as they scroll by; asking you to do horrible things, the ping of donations, the occasional plea to dig a screwdriver into your eye socket and make you scream or pull out your teeth with pliers or slash a heavy knife through your ribcage and fuck the wound he leaves there--

You think he lets you see them on purpose, as a reminder of what he could do to you. He always makes sure the stream sees your face perfectly clearly, too – and you never fail to think; ‘he is making me an accessory to his murders’.

(It is not just you; you find out that Ren is subjected to this same treatment, this same reminder that Strade’s moods are volatile and he loses self-control too quickly and there’s every chance that one day, he will go too far. You do not share your thoughts with Ren that even if, by some miracle, the two of you found yourself outside of Strade’s control, your face is probably plastered all over the darkest shadows of the deep web. You never talk about what might happen. You do not quite trust each other beyond sharing in patching up each other’s wounds, occasionally seeking one another out for company, trembling in the night. There is a kind of tension between you; fear that the other is the favourite. That Strade perhaps isn’t capable of keeping both of you long-term.

It makes Strade himself laugh when he sees that you’re on edge around each other and he leans forward to rest elbows on knees and tells you with a wicked glint in his eye that he just wants the both of you to get along. Perhaps you two need to share something very special, like what he shares with the both of you.

When he tells you to hurt one another, Ren has the advantage of animal nature. It’s clear to you where you stand in the pecking order of predators. You think, too, that Strade prefers you there. Master, fox, mouse.)

You never hear anything from the room designated as yours; it doesn’t escape notice that there is no other bedroom, aside from Ren’s domain and the one that Strade himself barely uses. Nowhere for someone else, if Strade were to take it into his head that another captive would be an interesting pet to keep--

It has been long enough that there are some things you have asked for, tremulous and whimpering, decorating surfaces and scattered about the room. There are also reminders of Strade, too; a hammer and nails on a chest of drawers, a knife in the bedside cabinet, too many things that could be used as weapons at the same time as being summarily excused as simply the detritus of a man doing home improvements.

You’d woken up that morning (you know it is morning because early fingers of dawn have penetrated even through the curtains you keep closed) to see Strade silhouetted in the doorway, smile on his face, shirt spattered with dark red and brown. You know that expression. You sit up, letting the covers fall, and he keeps smiling as he closes the door behind him and approaches you like a wolf approaches a frightened rabbit.

“Last night was disappointing,” he says, his tone light. You’d heard a thump in the middle of the night; assumed it to be Strade dragging a body down to the basement, and had resolutely buried your face into your pillow and pretended you heard nothing.

It’s easier to think of Strade’s other victims – the ones not so lucky as you or Ren – as faceless, foolish creatures. Food. Sustenance. Not people.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice quiet, cracking. Strade reaches across and chucks your chin, too fondly, bright smile and bright eyes.

“It’s alright,” he tells you. He’s pleased with the apology. He likes it when you’re polite. “It just means that I’m feeling a little . . . ahh. Restless. You’ll help me with that, won’t you?”

“Of c-course I will.” The stutter; he likes that, you know. He shifts as he sits on the bed.

A chuckle.

“You’re always so well-behaved,” he tells you. “sehr süß.”

The knife-edge you walk; the tight-rope. Well-behaved, but not broken. Responsive, but not troublesome. You’ve gotten it down to a fine art.

He’s on top of you before you can respond, knees shoved between your legs, your hand shoved hard against the bedside table so it knocks uncomfortably against hard wood and you flinch at the shock of pain.

The brief pain, though, is nothing to the anxiety that crawls up your throat as you realise he grabbed the hammer and nails as he walked in.

He chuckles as he sees your eyes widen in fear, cooing softly to you;

“That expression. So hübsch. Stay still for me.”

Your wrist is shaking as Strade carefully places a nail right in the centre of your hand; testing the angle, the positioning. His breath is uneven and panting in excitement at what he’s going to do – and excitement, too, that he knows you won’t pull away. Because you know if you do, it will not merely be a nail through one hand, but perhaps through your other and your knees and your feet, perhaps a knife slicing through you like butter, perhaps the feel of chisels and needles and sharper and more painful objects (knife, pliers, screwdriver, chisel, bradawl, drill--).

He lifts the hammer. He watches intently. His eyes are lit with bright excitement, chest heaving, sweat-soaked and greasy. You taste copper and realise you’ve bitten through your lip.

You’ve grown used to the smell of copper and motor oil and meat. If it weren’t for the flood of blood across your tongue you doubt you’d have noticed.

Crack. The first blow. The pain is blinding.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every single hit of the hammer sends a new shock of pain through you that echoes through the inside of your arm through to the bone marrow, shaking you. It’s not the most painful thing you’ve felt at Strade’s hands; but you are still partly asleep, still not quite aware, and you are simply looking at your hand with the crunch of fractured bones (twenty seven bones in the human hand; is that your capitate, that’s been splintered through?) and the sick wet noise of blood and muscle and you can’t think.

You stare, unblinking, at where your hand is nailed to the bedside table - the gore and blood that oozes from the wound as he uses the clawed end of the hammer to drag it out again. Strade’s smile is beatific, eyes wide and bright, sweat dampening his collar and his cheeks flushed and ruddy.

You’re unable to process anything for another long, agonising second; relief flooding you when finally, you respond. The whimper a delayed reaction, the tears that roll fat and hot down your own face taking a beat longer than usual.

You fear that you’ve broken for the moment you’re staring in horror; that he has finally, well and truly snapped you in half. Because if you’re broken, that means he’ll lose interest, and that means the basement and the fear of death finally catching up with you.

Occasionally the thought flits across your mind that death perhaps would be preferable; but you are a coward, and you have hurt people (even if it was on Strade’s command), and you do not want to know what awaits you on the other side of a non-beating heart and the light in a tunnel.

Strade chuckles, affectionately rubbing his nose against the line of your jaw, teeth digging just a little too hard into the flesh of your neck.

“You had me worried for a second, mäuschen,” he practically purrs. “I thought I’d heard the last of your squeaking.” Big fingers, tugging at your thighs, guiding you to wrap them around his hips. Despite the softness of his body, the proof that he enjoys lazing around and cheap beer and meat a little too much, there’s raw muscle beneath the chub. Even his hands on you are a reminder of how strong he is.

(Strong enough to drag dead bodies across floors, to lift them into kilns, to hold down unwilling, screaming captives and make them regret they ever laid eyes on him.)

“Unzip,” he tells you. One of your hands is free; unpierced, though scarred from being pressed against stove burned and soldering irons and heat guns, from grabbing the blade of a knife when he’s told you to fuck yourself with the handle, from sanders applied to formerly soft skin. You do not use that hand.

You force yourself to move the one dripping in your own blood, the ruined hand pierced straight through. The movement of your fingers burns, sending shock waves of pain all through you; but you tug at the zip of his pants nonetheless. You get blood all over his clothes but he just chuckles low and dangerous, as you reach into his underwear too and squeeze your eyes shut when you feel how hot and hard and heavy his cock is in your grip.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you, soft, and you force yourself to open them. He drinks in the expression on your face like he’s a starved man and it’s his first meal.

There’s a bloody handprint on his shaft when your fingers and wrist finally give out and your hand falls onto the sheets and pillows beneath you, staining them too, and you think that Strade is going to drive more nails through your hand just to prove a point about not doing as he says.

But his cock presses hot and needy against your inner thigh, smearing blood and pre-come on your scarred skin, and he’s panting and practically drooling as he murmurs;

“You know you’re not going to break, schatz. You want to live too much.” He leans his face further down. He does not kiss you so much as take control of you; worry teeth into your bottom lip, transfer his own saliva into your mouth, conquer the cavern behind your lips and teeth (one of them is loose; from being hit and squeezed. He pushes his tongue just a little too hard against that one and your body contracts, a whimper transferred from your throat to his mouth, and he swallows it up like your protests are a fine steak). “Ah. That’s what I like about you.”

Are you going to break? The push of him pressing inside of you makes your toes curl, a soft noise that might be a moan escape; Strade laughs, again, the sound too hearty and friendly to come out of the monster that you know he is.

“You like it,” he presses, as his thumbs come to your hips and dig into wounds that have been stitched together; you hear the stitches pop, feel him re-open barely healed gashes. “You like being special to me. You like this.”

You don’t think you do.

You don’t think you like any of this; his body on top of yours, the pain, the mistrust, the fear that prickles hot and sharp and sour in your throat whenever you hear the door (the one you can’t go near) open. But you also know that saying that is the wrong answer. Hitting and screaming like a wildcat is the wrong answer. Saying nothing at all is the wrong answer.

So instead, you open your mouth, you shiver and shudder as his thumb presses deeper into the re-opened wound, and you manage to choke out a mouse-squeak of;

“Pl-please—”

It’s the right answer. His face does not soften; but his smile widens, his hips tilting until you’re so full you can barely move and you ache everywhere, and Strade simply smiles down at you as whatever passes for affection for him leaks into his tone and he coos;

“Don’t worry, mäuschen. I’ll give you exactly what you want. For as long as you need.”

[german translation dictionary;  schatzi - sweetheart/dear/darling/treasure mäuschen - little mouse sehr süß - very sweet/very cute so hübsch - so pretty idk how accurate these are i am just using google translate always]

[babybatscreationsv2]

Reputation pt2 (End)

Marvel | Winterstarker

Peter doesn’t mean to count cards, he really doesn’t. He’s just a natural at it. The problem is that he can’t seem to stop himself and Bucky isn’t going to let a little card cheat steal his boss’s money.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

Part 1

Warnings: noncon,  crying, rough sex, face slapping, degrading language, bondage

They dragged him through the casino and into the back. The walls were bare and gray. They passed a dozen doors, some marked with things like 'storage' or 'maintenance' others just blank. They pushed open one of the unmarked doors and hauled him inside.

Peter struggled as he took it all in. Along one wall was a big couch. It was a deep red fabric with a matching ottoman in front. On the other wall was a big bed in matching red. In the middle of the room were two floor to ceiling stripper poles. Nothing in this room offered Peter any comfort.

Completely naked, they forced him to kneel on the ottoman. He was blindfolded and tied with his arms behind his back, wrists tied to his ankles. Bucky warned him to keep quite and not to move.

He heard movement around him. There was some quiet discussion about work schedules. No one was terribly concerned with him and that both gave Peter time to calm down and reason for worry. How often did they just kidnap and rape people? What was Tony Stark going to do to him?

After a while, he heard the door open. Someone came in and others went out. Someone sat down on the couch in front of him. He flinched as a hand touched his chest, feeling along his pectorals and down his ribs.

"You are a sweet one aren't you?" said a man. He had this satisfied sort of purr in his voice as if Peter were a buffet he were indulging in. He shivered, goosebumps rising all over his skin.

A hand curled gently around his throat. With his thumb, he tipped his head back and side to side, examining his face.

"Incredible find, Buck."

"I'm right here," Peter spat. "I'm not a toy."

The man chuckled. Then he slapped him hard across the face. Peter gasped. He nearly fell over but rough hands caught his shoulders and sat him upright.

The man, it must have been Tony Stark, continued to run his hands over his body. "You're whatever I say you are, pretty boy. You're mine now. Do you know what happens if I decide to slit your throat and dump you in a river?" His finger traced a line over his throat. "Not shit," he laughed.

"When your body washes up, the police will say it was an accident. I could carve my confession into your skin and it wouldn't make a difference. Just another tragic cold case." He shuddered as he lightly traced the line of his jaw.

"You'd better be on your best behavior, Peter. I'd hate for anything to happen to you. You're so awfully pretty."

Two fingers touched his lips and Peter opened his mouth obediently. He sobbed as Tony pushed his fingers inside his mouth. He gagged at the taste at first, but the feeling passed. He pushed into his throat and Peter's face heated as the man fucked his mouth with his fingers.

"That's right. I knew you could be a good boy," he purred. "Do what you're told and you get to keep your beating heart."

He removed his fingers from his mouth, dragging them over his lips. "Keep your mouth open," he ordered. Peter did. Fear made him feel cold and sick, but he could be obedient.

Wet fingers dragged over his nipple. Peter whimpered. His nipples were sensitive and just a small touch made his body crave more. He could practically feel the excitement in the air at his response though no one said anything.

Tony traced his nipple with one finger. His dragged his nail over it. Peter squirmed and gasped. He felt his cock throb. Drool dripped from his open mouth. Even though he was blindfolded, he squeezed his eyes shut. The more Tony played with him, the more his cock ached. He was getting hard, fast. Tony teased and lightly pinched. Then he leaned in, Peter could feel his hot breath, and his mouth closed around the little nub.

Peter screamed in pleasure. Those hands grabbed his shoulders again holding him still. He whimpered and panted and moaned. Tony was sucking on his nipple, running his tongue over and around it. Then his teeth grazed over it.

"Ah, ah," he whined. "Please."

Tony chuckled. "Please, what dear?" He sat back and Peter frowned. He wanted more. Then he started to come back to himself. Tears welled up in his eyes. He felt awful, like a disgusting whore. He shouldn't be enjoying this. He didn't even want to be here.

"Oh, poor thing," Tony teased. "Were you enjoying yourself?"

"He's gone all soft, boss," said Bucky who stood behind him.

"Well we can't have a soft slut. Where's the fun in that. New rule okay, baby? Daddy will make you feel good and you don't feel guilty about it. Got it?" He tapped Peter's cheek and he nodded.

"I don't actually care what you think, but I won't have you making me look bad by going soft on me."

Hands touched his face and he heard a thoughtful hum. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, boss."

"Afraid I'll fall in love?"

"Kinda," Bucky snorted.

"Well now I have to." The blindfold slipped off his face. Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he adjusted to the light. He blinked as his vision recover.

"My God," the man whispered. "He wasn't that pretty on the camera..."

"Told you," Bucky laughed.

"Keep on. I'll put you in the corner while the rest of us have play time."

Peter looked at the man in front of him. He was pushing fifty and handsome as hell with dark hair and warm eyes. He could have at least had the decency to be some fat old pervert, but no. They just looked at each other for a moment.

"You two gonna get married or what?"

Tony shot him a look. Then he looked back at Peter. He wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Oh, there's gonna be plenty more where that came from."

He went back to toy with that same nipple only now it was sore and becoming raw and Peter hissed when he touched it. He squirmed and Bucky held him still. Tony smirked. With two fingers he pinched hard and Peter shrieked. Tears spilled from his eyes again.

"That's it, baby," Tony said softly. "Pretty, red, wet eyes. Put him down on the floor."

Bucky picked him, grabbing him by the waist. He kicked the ottoman aside and set Peter down at Tony's feet. He watched as Tony unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He stood and grabbed Peter by the hair. He tried to pull away but Tony jerked his head.

"Remember what I said about dumping you in a river?" he warned. Peter opened his mouth. "That's a good boy."

He slipped his cock into his open mouth. Peter could taste it as it slid over his tongue. He shuddered. Tony groaned as he pushed down into his throat. Peter gagged and struggled, but he didn't stop until his nose was pressed painfully against his abdomen.

Peter gagged and tears poured down his face. Tony watched him with hungry eyes. He held him there, with his cock in his throat, unable to escape, until Peter's lungs were burning and his eyes began to flutter shut he struggled to stay conscious. Then he pulled back.

Peter gasped, dragging in a ragged breath. His lungs and throat hurt. Tony didn't give him long to recover. He fucked his throat, pulling all the way back and letting spit run down his face just to slam back in. It was painful and he couldn't breathe and he made the most humiliating noises. His own spit dripped down onto his half hard cock humiliating him even more.

Bucky sat down on the couch, stroking his frankly monstrous cock while he watched. It was a miserably long time before Tony stopped. He pulled back, breathing heavy, spit connecting the end of his cock to Peter's open mouth.

"Ass up," Tony commanded. Bucky scooped him up again and put him on the ottoman. With his arms and legs bound, he could only lie on his face with his ass in the air.

Tony cock was sloppy wet with spit when he pushed into his ass. He was still slick from being fucked earlier. He wasn't as big as Bucky so it wasn't as painful, but he fucked hard and fast leaving Peter whimpering and shaking beneath him. He grabbed his hips and pushed in deep, spilling his cum with a low moan. He stopped and panted for a moment.

"Gotta hand it to the little cheat, he's a good fucking lay."

Bucky laughed.

Tony grabbed him around the middle and picked him up. With his cock still buried in Peter's ass, he sat down with Peter in his lap. His arms pressed against Tony's chest and his knees on the couch.

"Ready to dump another load?" Tony asked Bucky.

He grinned with a smile that made Peter shiver. "After a show like that? Course I am."

"A good performance deserves applause," Tony chuckled.

Bucky stepped up and Peter sobbed as he grabbed his chin. Reluctantly he opened his mouth. Bucky's cock was so big he felt like it would break his jaw. It was almost a mercy that he didn't fit down his throat. Still it hurt for him to fuck his face, hitting the opening of his throat, making him gag and cry and shake.

Tony pressed little kisses along his neck. He nibbled and sucked on his ear lobes. Peter closed his eyes and it only made everything worse, but when he opened them he had to look at Bucky's pleased smirk.

"Swallow," Tony warned in his ear. Then Bucky came in his mouth, much of it hitting his throat and making him gag. He barely swallowed fast enough as it slid down, slimy and thick, on its own. Bucky wiped his wet cock off on his cheeks.

"What a good little cock hole you are," Tony praised.

"Yeah, thanks for the fuck, pretty boy," Bucky agreed. Tony chuckled.

"Please," Peter's throat hurt and speaking only made him cough. The words came out rough and broken. "Let me go, please."

"Aw, poor baby," Tony cooed. "Is it too much for you? I'm not the kind of man to let a partner go unsatisfied. You at least have to cum before you go."

His hand wrapped around Peter's cock. He shivered and whimpered, but he was too tired to argue. Peter hated that he actually got hard.

"That's a good boy. Let's see you cum. I know you must need it after all that."

Peter whimpered, but he let he it happen. He panted, rapidly reaching climax, then finally he came, cum spilling over Tony's fist. It felt so good after so much pain and stress. Only Tony didn't stop when he needed him too and it hurt. He squirmed and whined.

"Please, stop. I came like you wanted," he pleaded, throat burning.

"Oh pretty baby," Tony cooed. "A bottom has to cum at least as many times as their tops. That's just good manners. Two more and then we'll let you go."

"I can't- please," he sobbed. His cock was too sensitive, his body was screaming, he couldn't stop whining and crying and pleading. Then it started to feel good and much too quickly he was cumming, but it only felt good for a second before he was again oversensitive.

"Please," he cried, his voice totally broken, only coming out as a whisper.

"All that squeezing is getting me hard again, you know that?" Tony said. Peter sobbed. He shook his head, begging him to stop, but he couldn't speak.

Tony rolled his hips, holding on to him so he could rock forward and back. He kept stoking his cock and his whole body shook in pain. But Tony's cock moving his in ass felt good and Peter moaned, too. He didn't know if he wanted him to stop or to keep going anymore. Then Bucky was prying open his mouth and fucking it again. As Peter screamed and came, body spasming and shaking, they both came filling his ass and coating his face.

"Oh dear," Tony said. "I guess that's two more for you."

The rope holding his arms and legs came undone, but Peter was too tired to do anything about it. Bucky picked him up and laid him down over the ottoman.

"I think he's all tired out. Look at that." He looked Peter over. His fingers carded through his sweaty hair and gave a tug that made him whimper.

"We'll just have to break out the toys," Tony said.

Peter couldn't do anything more than breathe. Then he was screaming as Bucky put a vibrator against the head of his cock.

Tony moaned. "You're gonna get me fucking hard again, sweetheart."

Peter wasn't sure anymore what was pain and what was pleasure. His whole body shook. He cried, gasping for breath. Then his next orgasm was forced out of him. Bucky held the vibrator against. Peter thrashed and screamed and they both had to hold him down.

"Please, Mr. Stark- please- I'm sorry," he sobbed.

"One more, baby. Gotta give us one more."

"I can't," Peter hiccuped.

"If you take too long, I'm gonna have to fuck you again and we'll have to start all over."

"No, please!"

"Dammit he's pretty," Bucky mumbled. He turned up the speed of the vibrator and Peter screamed, raw and open like he'd been shot. He came, shooting cum onto his skin.

The vibrator slowed, then turned off. Peter's legs felt like jelly.

"That's a good boy," Bucky pet his thighs. His hand touched his cock and Peter screamed, sobbing again. It was too sensitive to be touched.

"We'll he's not gonna cum again that way."

"I have an idea," Tony grinned. He took the vibrator from Bucky and turned it on. Peter watched in horror, too tired to move. Tony brought the toy down and touched the tip of it to his abused nipple.

Peter shrieked, this time in pleasure. It felt so good. Then Bucky was there, sucking on and teasing the other one. Peter panted and whined. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything more than take it. Pleasure built and his balls drew up and he didn't know how he could possibly cum again, but he did, this time dry and screaming, back arching, and finally he passed out.

He woke up in the bed, feeling hazy. He groaned and sat up. Tony and Bucky sat at a table playing cards. Peter was pretty sure he wasn't ever going to play cards again.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Bucky smiled at him.

"Can I leave now?" Peter said. He coughed. His throat hurt so bad he thought it might be bleeding.

"Well the thing is, sweetheart," Tony smirked. "When you were sleeping we just couldn't help ourselves. So you're gonna have to cum another seven times for us before you go. I have a reputation to uphold."

[huihuiheart]

Kinktober D9: Listen Closely - Felix

Pairing: Felix x f!Reader

Warnings: Sensory play/deprivation, dom! Felix, like I’d say he gets a bit feral in this....., overstimulation, brat taming, bondage, Felix is just straight up a little shit in this, teasing, sex toys, sir kink (just to mix things up), angry sex? (kinda he’s a little pissed at the brattiness, but he also loves it so...take that however you want), Felix calls the reader kitten, dirty talk, light degradation, masturbation, spanking,mentions of squirting, implied sex (once again I gotta be a little shit and stop before we get to the good part, I’m just in a mood rn I guess).

Word Count:2,042

Tag List: @hyunsungcore​ 

You’d been caught red handed too many times at this point and you knew there would be consequences for it. If Felix wasn’t intending to intervene yet though, then it didn’t really matter to you. You planned on wholly misbehaving until Felix actually took action. Though there was an eerie amount of patience being displayed by Felix, not usually one to show restraint for so long, especially when you were misbehaving. Yet after two weeks of finding you touching yourself while listening to his voice through your phone, he hadn’t touched you at all. At least not other than chase kisses and some cuddling, and you’d fucking had it. You were ready to resort to begging if necessary, prepared for any punishment of his. You just couldn’t do without him any longer. Which is how you ended up in this position, with a vibrator between your legs and a playlist you made of Felix’s deep voice filling the room....again, just like every night this week. When you finally tore your eyes open again they met Felix’s figure leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a smirk.

“How did I guess that this would be what I found when I came home?” Felix’s tone is teasing as he moves to walk over to the foot of the bed for a closer look now that he knows you caught him staring.

“Hm...I have no idea.” You retort coyly before getting your own smirk as you decide to taunt back, “I’m gonna guess that you’re going to run off to the studio for some made up work now though, just like you did every other night. Let me guess...you’re afraid you can’t satisfy me as well as some little toy can sir?”

The way Felix’s face scrunched and eyes closed as he tried to control himself brought you more satisfaction than you expected. It was good to know the amount of control you still had over him though, especially when you decided to push his limits by condescendingly using the honorific he liked so much. When Felix finally meets your gaze again his eyes have darkened with lust and just enough anger that you knew there was no way he was going to leave you to get away with that tonight, which was exactly what you were hoping for.

Felix chuckles, “You know I’ve noticed how you seem to love getting off to my voice kitten. So every time that I left for the studio because of your little stunts it was to work on a special part of your punishment. Lucky for you I just finished it and brought it home though.”

You brows furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, “You worked on something there alone?” 

Felix nods with another deep laugh, “I did, didn’t think you’d want other people hearing what I made just for you.....told the guys I wanted to play around with some things for experience.” 

“Think they bought it?” You raise a brow knowing how hard it was to get away with stuff around the guys.

“For the most part, there was a little slip and someone may have found one of the clips I recorded..” Felix admits with a soft shrug, not too bothered by it.

“Let me guess....Chris?” You laughs a little as he nods in answer, “Well show me what you did then.”

Felix licks his lips, “Oh I intend to kitten, but first...what was that you said about me thinking I couldn’t satisfy you as good as some toy?...Maybe we should put that to the test tonight too? Only I’m in control now.” 

Felix snatches the vibrator out of your hands before you can argue and turns it off laying it aside, before going to the bedside table to get out some black ties. Your hands tied to the bed above your head first before moving down to your feet and tapping your ankles, urging you to spread your legs for him next. Tying each to one side of the bed, keeping you spread open for him. You can only watch as he settles the vibrator between your legs again, someplace he knows it will sit no matter what, before he’s pulling out headphones to place near the one remaining tie. 

“I think we should give the vibrator the best chance possible, don’t you?” Felix mocks slightly, “Make it so you imagine it’s me making you feel that good. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“Sir, I just want you.” You counter whimpering softly only for Felix to tsk you softly.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have misbehaved so much kitten, you wanna be a little brat? Then I’ll treat you like a little fucking brat.” Felix growls out at you before he’s tying the remaining fabric around your eyes, the headphones next. Felix pressing play the same time he click the vibrator on low. 

“My little kitten thinks she’s so smart huh? Touching herself to the sound of my voice like it’s gonna get you something, well every time I find you like that this is what you’re gonna get kitten....you get to hear me touching myself to the thought of you instead of getting what you actually want.” 

Felix’s deep voice was already fucking with you through the speakers and then he had to go and add this to it. His deep moans and the way he’d grunt out little desires that filled his head as he got himself off through the headphones, about how sore he’d be sure to make your ass, how he’d manhandle you so easily due to how desperate you’d be just to cum around his cock, the way he’d feel stretching you out again. All of it almost unbearable at this point, having your vision cut off and the audio he recorded playing for you letting your mind run wild. Imagining him recording it while touching himself, then thinking about each of the things his smoky voice reminded you of or gave you thoughts about suddenly, until you had a small realization. You’d never seen Felix leave you like this....and you knew it he was at least within earshot in case a safe word was used. He heard each sound that left your mouth, even if you barely could in your current state and more likely than not he was watching and getting off to you right now too. You came once to the sound of him cumming, a low growly moan filling your senses. You weren’t done yet though as Felix moves to turn the vibrator up to the next level, as the audio kept going.

“Really kitten? Two days in a row? You’re gonna be that much of a little brat? And here I thought I’d trained you better than that. Oh well....I guess I’ll just be cumming in my hand instead of your tight little cunt again, and you won’t even be able to have a taste.”

Felix drank in your whines, not caring if it was from his taunting in the audio or from the overstimulation that the vibrator was putting you through. You’d challenged him and now you’d have to pay the price for it. You barely made it through the second recording, not without cumming twice more though. Felix turning the toy down again and gently rubbing over your quaking thighs, showing a small bit of mercy knowing you still had three more recordings to get through.

“Well day three hmm? Maybe I should have stuck around longer, could have counted up all your pretty little moans. Given you a spanking for each one. I’m sure you find this a lot more fun though, don’t you kitten? Unless....you’re ready to admit how much you love when I spank your pretty ass?” 

You feel the way your slick spreads making even more of a mess out of you and the sheets, knowing Felix knew just how much you loved spankings even if you wouldn’t fess up to that. That’s also how you recognized the fact that he mentioned the spankings on purpose. If he wanted to play though, you’d play.

“Are you counting my moans now sir? Is it gonna earn my a good spanking?” You mock, earning you a swift slap to your thigh in warning. Nothing too painful, just a little tingling sting to remind you who was in control right now. Felix rewarding the moan you make in reaction to it by turning the vibrator up a few settings. The toy drawing two more orgasms from you before the third day was done, there were two days left before you’d actually get what you wanted all week and yet Felix had already brought you to your climax five times, making you more and more sensitive. 

“Have you really not caught on to the fact that I have something big planned or are you just trying to rile me up more and more kitten?....you’ll learn after this experience pretty kitty, you’ll come crawling to me every time that desperate little pussy gets wet. At the very least you’ll know not to break this rule again....unless you want me to break you kitten.”

The growl building in Felix’s raspy voice only grows with each recording as he get more and more pissed off by your bratty disobedience and refusal to ask for what you want. Well that coupled with the fact that each day his hand was less and less satisfying compared to what he knew he’s left back at home. Your soaked cunt and bratty attitude, the one that makes him want to fuck you through the mattress every time it decides to make an appearance. Felix’s patience only winning out due to the fact that he knew how rewarding it would be punish you like he was right now. A perfect build up to what both of you had been anticipating all week long, coming down from your sixth high as the fifth recording finally begins.

“You’re about to be a very lucky kitty. I have a feeling I get the same welcome home tomorrow as I got all week, but I’m still going to give you what you want kitten. Only if you take you punishment like a good girl though, if not....well than maybe we’ll have to play this game a little longer....when you finally decide to behave for me though. Remember to thank sir for everything he so generously gave you kitten.”

Your relieve at finally being onto the final day is short lived though as Felix turns the vibrator all the way up now, wanting to push you over the edge as many times as he could before that final recording was over. Achieving three, before the day was over and he’s turning the vibrator off. Easing you back to reality one thing at a time; the vibrator first, then removing the headphones to whisper a few soft praises to you as he unties the blindfold. Next comes the blindfold, followed by him carefully untying you from the bed. His hands gently soothing over your form.

“You did so well kitten, made such a pretty little mess of yourself all for me.” Felix’s voice is still deep with lust, but its a little softer for the moment, “Still want the reward I promised you kitten?” 

“Don’t tell me you actually think I’m going to call it a night before we even get started.” You lick your lips smirking softly as your eyes rake over his form. While watching you he’d stripped to stroke himself, the tip of his cock an angry red and leaking precum, the rest slicked with a mix of his arousal and spit.

“I see there’s still some of that bratty mouth left kitten.” Felix chuckles eyes darkening again as his hands grips your hips.

“There certainly is sir. Why don’t you show my what you’re gonna do about it.” You taunt only for him to flip you over onto your hands and knees before you realize what’s even happening. Felix leaning forward, lips brushing your ear and cock flush against your ass, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I guess it’s a good thing that I really did count all your moans tonight kitten, your ass will have a lot to be grateful for and besides that....I wanna see you squirt before I'm through with you.”

[thebibliomancer]

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 3

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because I want the answer to Amri’s question. Don’t you?

Last time on book: The dream team of Naia, Spider-Tavra, Kylan, and Amri have gone to Tavra’s friend(?) Onica to get the lay of the land after Kylan shotgunned exposition petals all over Ha’rar. Onica used her Far-Dreaming to let the team see the Vapran and All-Maudra’s reaction to all of those petals. Then on Amri’s turn, he asked the entire planet Thra how they can beat the Skeksis.

Chapter 3

Weirdness on either side, Chamberlain in the middle

The answer to Amri’s question was a wall.

Well. Thanks for that, Thra.

It’s a bit of a weird vision. Amri actually feels like he’s himself, not as a petal or peeping through another Gelfling. Just an Amri standing alone in an infinite dark void, with a stone wall in the middle of it.

Amri sighed. Of course this would happen. The first thing he shouted out to Thra was to ask it how to defeat the Skeksis. If Thra cared about the Gelfling, and knew what to do, then wouldn’t it have told them already?

In fairness, Amri. Maybe your question broke the planet? Maybe you logic bombed the entire world.

Or to be less mean, the planet is sick with the Darkening. So maybe it can’t give a straight answer. Aside of a wall in a void.

Then the wall catches on fire.

The fire had engulfed the wall, but where it had been reavenous and red, it was now blue as the midnight sky. The wall itself had crumbled in places from the teeth of the fire, and where the rock had fallen away, Amri saw shining light. Crystal veins, white as starlight, bared as the wall crumbled, bit by bit. And revealed in the light of the crystal were words. Images. Figures...

Then he was back on the boat, his hands clammy against Onica’s and Naia’s.

I hope Onica has a book about interpreting dreams.

Although, blue fire. Wasn’t that the fire skype that the Dual Glaive did in the show?

The flower petals already kinda took their role as the thing that communicates to all Gelfling so, yeah, this is an abstract dream.

Onica, explain!

She doesn’t though. She just tells Naia to go ahead and ask her question.

Half not surprisingly and half not, her question is “Please, tell us where we can find Rian.”

It makes sense but also, its weird that she doesn’t ask instead about Gurjin.

It sure is more handy for the plot that she asked about Rian because they get a village of a Skeksis carriage drawn by rolling armalig slug racing through the snow. Whether its inhabitants are laughing all the way ho ho ho ho is not shared.

Amri realizes that they’re seeing a vision of now and somewhere pretty close by actually! They passed through that snowy area on their way to Onica’s Exposition Hut.

Hm. Always interesting what commonalities there are between the show and the YA books despite the very different courses they take. They’re both going to have a Rian Chamberlain carriage rescue scene although the location and presumably the context is gonna be different.

Naia rushes out ahead because rushing out ahead is what Naia is best at. Amri, Kylan, and Tavra soon follow, but Tavra asks Onica to wait here in case they need a place to hide.

Just gals being pals, doing crimes, hiding fugitives.

While poor Kylan has to take the long path, Amri just starts climbing up the sheer rock wall, even with the sandals slowing him down.

Amri actually manages to catch up to Naia although they wind up on different ridges on different sides of the trail.

Naia being Naia, she just jumps off the ridge, onto the carriage, and goes through the canopy.

A Skeksis scream curdled the air, high-pitched and nasal. A moment later, Naia and another Gelfling crashed through one of the carriage windows. The carriage tipped, the armalgis squealing in distress at the disturbance.

Oh my god.

Imagine being Chamberlain. Probably sitting in a carriage and psychologically breaking Rian because his sensitive soldier brain is no match for your words words words. When an angry Naia drops in and starts waving a dagger around.

No wonder he screm. And now wonder he crashes the carriage into the ravine wall.

Amri wishes again that he had wings making me think hmm but slides down a fallen tree that Tavra points out to him.

“I hope Kylan tells a nice song at my funeral!”

Oh, Amri. I don’t think Kylan knows much more about you than Onica did.

Amri lands in a pile of snow and finds Naia and Rian with his blue streak of hair pulling themselves out of a snow bank.

Rian runs back toward the carriage because he says Chamberlain has the vial. The important plot driving vial. Containing Rian’s liquidated girlfriend.

Out of the carriage, coughing and swearing and spitting, came a Skeksis. He emerged, reptilian snout first, like a black bird from an egg, almost too big for the door. His feather-lined cloak squeezed out, then billowed as he stepped into the snow, rising to his full height. His eyes smoldered beneath his prominent purple brow, black pupils tiny and livid as he cast his gaze upon them.

This is another scene I wish I could have seen in live action puppets. Chamberlain pulling himself out of the crashed carriage.

Rian demands Chamberlain give him the vial, his confidence impressing Amri who wants to curl into a perfect orb and roll under a table when faced with a Skeksis.

The Chamberlain glared, then reached back to fluff the black collar around his neck so it framed his face.

“The vial? The vial? After ruining our carriage -- MY carriage? Stupid Gelfling. Stupid Rian. After all we’ve done for you, you stand there and defy us. Defy me.”

Effrontery! Offense! How dare?!

Naia threatens that they’ll take the vial by force if Chamberlain won’t hand it over, which is pretty gutsy. Even given that she has a sweet metal dagger and Amri has Tavra’s sweet sword that he has no idea how to use.

Chamberlain takes out the vial and threatens to pour our Rian’s girlfriend if they make a move on him.

“You think you can command me?” the Chamberlain asked, a low growl growing in the back of his throat. “You, puny Gelfling? Giving me orders? A Skeksis? One of Twice-Nine? You dare to command me?”

“The Skeksis won’t rule the Gelfling much longer, not once we prove to them what you’ve done,” Naia said, brandishing her dagger. “To the Crystal, and to our people.”

“So hand over the vial before we make an example of you,” Rian said.

And Chamberlain, well, he took exception to that.

Because he is a petty lizarddragonvulture man when he’s in a good mood and he was just in a carriage crash and these Gelflings keep saying words at him.

So he wonders aloud what Vapra tastes like and then chugs Mira goo.

“OH YES. SWEET AND BRIGHT AS SPRING SYRUP! Mmm-MMMM!”

Leave some scenery for the rest of the characters, SkekSil.

So to contextualize the situation, now Chamberlain doesn’t have the thing they wanted from Chamberlain. And he’s all roided up on soul juice. This is not a situation that they want to be in anymore!

“Now,” he said. He threw back his cloak and drew a short, sharp blade, smiling at them with a mouth of razor teeth. “What were you saying about making an example of me?”

Tavra tells Amri to raise his sword and tries to give him really quick sword pointers. But Amri makes a quick decision and hucks the pouch of fire dust that Onica gave him, the spicy coral shavings getting all in SkekSil’s eyes and nose.

Wow, that fire dust Chekov’s gun fired way sooner than I thought it would.

While the Chamberlain drops to his knees and tries to soothe the burn by shoving snow into his eyes and nose, Amri yells to Naia and Rian to run.

Luckily, Rian does, since previously he was paralyzed by unfathomable rage.

The three run and run and run over the hills and through the woods until they can no longer hear Chamberlain.

And then things get weird.

The vertigo returned, and Amri stumbled, then leaned against a tree as the world spun. In every swirl of snow, every spot of shadow, he saw Skeksis faces. Phantoms, rising out of his worst fears. His throat felt tight, locking air out of his lungs.

“I don’t feel great,” he tried to say.

“What’s wrong? What’s --”

Tavra’s voice fell away, and all Amri could hear was... humming. An intense droning, a chant, coming from deep in the earth and high in the heavens at the same time.

Are there Mystics about?

The drone vibration sharpened, and Amri heard words. Coming from the earth. From the stars. From the suns and the moons. It drowned out the cold and the bright light. It chanted in time with Amri’s heart, in time with the pulse of the world. Of Thra.

Oh, hey, is the entire planet returning Amri’s call? Was that wall vision like.... an answering machine?

I have no idea! This has been some odd bookends around an exciting Skeksis encounter.

Just as Amri thinks he recognizes the voice, the world vanishes.

You keep cliffhangering me, chapters in Tides of the Dark Crystal!

[duelofthefatesmp3]

i DO actually wanna know how youd make kotor 3 !!!!!

this ask has been sitting on my inbox for so long on PURPOSE! i wanted some time to re read the revan book + watch some swtor gameplays so i could give a concrete answer about why the book and swtor arent satisfactory and what i would do instead (im not like. a storytelling god so i this is just my PERSONAL idea). under the cut!

to begin with, what's wrong with revan the book and swtor, mai?

i am very fond of swtor i think it was such a nice idea to have an "open" world game set in star wars old republic time. but ultimately, it was not a good conclusion to revan and meetra's storyline! now, i don't really know what happened in the development of the third kotor game (if there ever was a plan for one) but it's clear they dropped the ball on that and decided to start a whole different project. i don't think we can blame disney for that one, because it was announced on 2008, launched in 2011, and disney had just bought star wars that year. so who knows.

the thing is that it's painfully evident that a bunch of the story that was gonna be in the third game, ended up in the book + misc parts of swtor. much of the book feels like a gameplay.

now, it was clear when the book was planned that they wanted to keep revan's story open so when the game came out, they could have a cool Revan storyline so he could make a cool villain appearence and draw in some of that kotor nostalgia. which ehhhhhh. uh. i don't really think did any favors for revan's character. he didn't have a satisfactory arc (I'm not saying "a happy ending" because good arcs aren't always happy) but at least some closure?

revan went through many big events in his life. we didnt need to keep his ass in stasis for his fun villain moments 300 years later. we already had what we wanted from him: jedi turned sith turned jedi again to defeat a terrible threat. that was it we could have let it there and it would have been cool! but then they decided to drag and drag his story just to leave him right where he was before. he just suffered a little more in the in-between.

you could say he finally redeemed himself of all of his crimes this way, but wasn't that the whole purpose of the first kotor game (and would have been the purpose of the 3rd?)

swtor does not centre revan in his own narrative. he's a side character for the player to experience. and look, i get it, we've had a different protag on each game, why not have another one in this one. well, because the protagonist has no personal relationship with revan. meetra was one of his closest friends, and fought with him. there is a connection that can be exploited. but the swtor protagonist is just some guy 300 years in the future who happens to stumble into revan and his life. not even his descendants get to fully interact with revan.

also, there is the fact that revan is not the centre of the game itself, only of a particular storyline. and it's weird, because swtor could have happened without revan's involvement.

ms. meetra surik, ms. bastila shan, women of the world I'm sorry

so it's no news that star wars is misogynistic as fuck right. cause it is.

so you decide to make your gender neutral protagonist a guy. then you decide to make your other gender neutral protagonist a woman. cool. now let's guess who gets underdeveloped, turned into a plot device without reason, and promptly fridged in the most unceremoniously fashion just to fullfil some manpain moments. which one do you think got that treatment.

i know the revan book is supposed to be about revan, but why make meetra go through a whole arc just to undermine her character and turn her into the faithful servant of the guy? she leaves everything behind for him, sacrifices herself for him, hell not even dead is she not serving the guy. and she was the second game’s protagonist! she beat up a bunch of powerful people and now she’s just meh, there? she had so many interesting ways to interact with revan (meeting kreia, revan’s first master, encountering another force consuming entity, etc.)

meetra went through a whole arc about dealing with the guilt of doing something horrible and having the consequences of it cut her from the force. we see her broken, then slowly come back to the world and reconnect herself with the force, then stop running and face the consequences of her role in the war. thats such a cool character with tons of potential! and nothing happened!

then we got bastila who is. a whole deal. so you make her go through a “promising jedi who defeated revan, to questioning reluctant companion, to fell into the dark side, to was redeemed thanks to her bond to revan, who helped her come back because he’d been through the same experience” arc, and then you decide to push her to the side to have a baby?? which is... its clear that the writer didnt know what to do with her (or with the other characters outside of canderous) so hey, lets get her to marry revan and have a baby.

my ideal kotor 3

to preface, im not a game developer, so some of my choices could be stunted by what a kotor rpg can do lol. of course, it would follow the same mechanics and have the same format as the first two, because consistency!

the fun way to start the game, would be from scourge’s perspective. we get to play as a sith! i’d even say you get to change scourge’s name and gender and looks (i know sith have different looks)

in scourge’s storyline, we get from his arrival to normound kaas, to his talks with nissyris, to his missions working for her. in some of these, we can make scourge lean into the dark or the light side! fun! plus we get some exposition with dialogue options. it all continues untill we get to nissirys story about the emperor. we get a fucked up cutscene of his childhood and then BOOM when its over, we see revan waking up from a nightmare and their pov starts.

ok, as for revan’s story, since we’d have to pick it up from where kotor ended, i’d have a little cutscene of revan back into the ebon hawk, with bastila, and them telling the crew to take them to courascant. then cut to a council meeting where revan and bastila get scolded in private, then rewarded by the republic. i would also like to see some revan mournink malak’s death mayhaps. since he was their childhood friend and all.

i would 100% scrape the marriage and two years passed part. as the book said, the council had no use for revan aside from the legend(tm), so why would they stay in courascant. revan was very alienated from the jedi at that point, despite being back in the “light side”

then like, to revan asking around for meetra and other jedi from the mandalorian wars, we can cash in that atris cameo, then revan starts to have these visions about the sith emperor, and maybe we could get a playable dream sequence about revan’s fight with mandalore the ultimate (I KNOW I WOULD LIKE TO SEE IT.) and we get the whole exposition to mandalore telling revan that the sith are behind it all. i believe we should get a bunch of these flashback/dream sequences of revan’s past doing shit. cut to revan burying the mask in a planet, then back to the present. we see a bunch of mission and juhani scenes trying to reach him, but he keeps pushing them away. revan and bastila meet canderous, travel to the ice planet, meet clan ordo (god i love clan ordo) you get the whole quest, you decide weather to spare veela or not, maybe you get a cheeky mandalorian companion (force sensitive mando oh?) and leave canderous behind.

we can visit like, a couple more planets searching for clues maybe, etc. then when reaching nathema, you are forced to go alone as revan, get to explore nathema a bit (raiding ancient location yay) nathema as a location can be so fun because you can have it weaken you hp bar and also you cant use the force (which, in game is pretty cool)

then we get to scourge and nyssiris arriving to the planet, they fight but since theres two of them and revan doesn’t have the force, they beat the shit out of them, and while running away, they get in a fight with bastila and the companions in the ebon hawk (ebon hawk shooting game my hated). bastila manages to get a glimpse of revan’s thoughts before they take them away. but the ebon is so ruined it takes bastila, t3 and the mandalorian a while to fix it, and they get stuck into the unknown regions for a while. the ebon hawk is left in an outer rim planet with t3 fixing it, bastila and the mandalorian run back to the jedi council, only to get caught in the middle of the jedi civil war. we can have bastila choosing to hide in courascant and trying to make sense of what she saw, reading texts about the sith empire, trying to plot a course to where they took revan (more atris! but shes pissed at her now)

cutscene to meetra’s pov, leaving malachor v behind, getting calls from everyone at the hawk (atton my beloved) but just as she’s leaving she gets a force message from revan, calling for her to find him and sending visions of normound kaas. then, through her force bond with visas, she tells her not to go because they’re gay and in love and whatnot.

then boom, she gets intercepted by bastila’s ship, with the mandalore and the other mandalorian (yes i do love having a bunch of mandos on board) and they go on their way to find revan.

now i want there to be an underlying message of “we can’t take our friends with us because we have to do this ALONE we’re powerful JEDI we don’t need our FRIENDS.” meetra gets asked if she wants to bring any friends and she’s like “no. we have to do this alone.” along the game you get constantly contacted by other game characters, you get the chance to talk to them or ignore them.

so, we get back to nathema, and meetra has a whole “holy shit this is just like darth nihilus but ten times worse. but i beat darth nihilus. i can do this!” then she finds peace in this place without the force, we get a whole speech about how the odds arent against them, they find a way to normound kaas, and get going.

in normound kaas i thought about them getting a whole mission about how to infiltrate the citadel, only to get helped by scourge. he joins the party, we get a little flashback of all the years he spent trying to make revan remember and they storm the citadel. we get to fight the dark council members, fun! then we get to free revan and the game switches povs. bastila hands the mask to revan and he has a cool “yes im revan im pretty cool” then a nice heartfelt yet rushed reunion with everyone.

then have a small CONVERSATION WITH MEETRA where she talks about the sith triumvirate she defeated and revan is impressed with her and is like “we are the last hope of the jedi, we’ve learned to walk between light and dark, we’ve done horrors but we can still make things right, our experience has made us more powerful etc.

then they fight the imperial guard, ALL OF THEM, meetra revan and scourge make it into the throne room, they all fight the emperor. meetra shows the emperor that she has seen the void, she has cut herself from the force, and she’s not afraid of him, revan supports her, talks about redemption and hope  and NOW.

NOW. how the alternate endings could go:

if you decide to take scourge through the light side, he manages to form a forcebond with meetra and revan since they’ve both teached something about the duality of the force, they get 100% stronger, but its still not enough. UNTIL. a bunch of ships (jedi and mandalorian, even non republic ships) arrive to dormound kaas, the gangs from each game storm the room and together they make the emperor and his guard a bunch of punching bags. they beat him! (unknow to them, this was a backup body because the emperor can do weird shit like that, and has only debilitated his plan, but he’ll come back dont worry). then they fly back to the republic, to tell the chancellor about the sith threat, and preparations for the war begin. meetra and revan get to live happily ever after for a while, then they die away from the jedi or the sith (waaah im thinking about them helping canderous rebuild the mandalorians, and them doing it since they killed so many mandos in the war)

BECAUSE IN THE END KOTOR IS ABOUT LEARNING TO PROCESS TRAUMA AND RECOGNIZE YOUR MISTAKES AND LIVE WITH THE GUILT WHILST TRYING TO FIX THE MISTAKES YOU MADE ALONG THE WAY. AND ALSO TO HEAL FROM TRAUMA YOU NEED A SUPPORT SYSTEM SO EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES SENSE TO YOU YOU SHOULDNT PUSH PEOPLE WHO LOVE YOU AWAY. AND THINGS AREN’T BLACK AND WHITE ITS COMPLICATED SO YOU DONT END UP BACK ON SQUARE ONE YOURE A CHANGED PERSON.

or

if you decide to dark side scourge further, he betrays revan and meetra, they all die, and the emperor unleashes his angry lightning or whatever on everyone + a bunch of visions of all the enemies of past mocking them, and their loved ones suffering. and since you’ve had that “im not calling my friends bullshit” no one comes, you die there, and the emperor is only stalled for a few years. swtor ensues. scourge becomes the emperor’s hand.

now you could of course bring revan and meetra up in swtor, but maybe only as force ghost guides, or have some of the other characters of the game have relevance (visas tries to heal the miraluka planet 2021)

WELL THAT WAS A LOT OF WORDS. HOPE THIS IS SATISFYING ENOUGH

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 5 

Not too sure if anyone is still interested in these or wants to be tagged? I’ll be crossposting them on AO3 though. 

Your friend was beaming, up until she looked down and saw your glossy shoes. You crossed your arms as May’s face fell, not at all ready for the obvious browbeating.

“You’re wearing those?” She asked. Her brow was knitted as she stepped forward, whirling around to face you again once you’d closed the door behind them.

“If I actually do dance, I don’t want to break my ankle trying.” You pointed at May warningly. “And I don’t want to come home and have to soak bloody feet in the tub before bed.”

“It’s not gonna get that bad!” Your friend said.

She scoffed at you while making herself cozy, promptly slumping onto your sofa and pulling her bag out to rummage. You felt a stab of hurt at her dismissiveness, but instantly berated yourself. You were way too sensitive; May didn’t mean to make you feel bad.

Ryuk was standing idly in the background, staring from the dining room table. He hadn’t said much since you’d come out of your room, not that he could unless you wanted May to think you were (way) too far gone. It didn’t phase you as your stomach was twisting unrelentingly.

You felt sick. That was despite knowing that going out to a public place tonight, with a friend, wasn’t the dire crisis you’d been making it out to be. Going out wasn’t exactly your style - but neither was turning down your friend when they asked you for anything.

You knew, deep, deep down, that your inability to say ‘no’ was a real problem, but May was one of your only friends. She was outgoing and chatty, and she actually acted her age instead of like a recluse. Her vibrance made you feel light-hearted, able to set aside weighty thoughts and behave like nothing mattered.

*

It was a solid hour and a half before May had run off into the crowd and left you sitting in a booth.

May had left her drink unattended, but you didn’t feel too bad about offering it up. Your friend was already buzzing by the time they’d gotten in, and while the drinks were scammer-worthy expensive, you knew that May would hardly miss this one.

“Try this!” You said, sliding your back up the booth to gain some height with May’s discarded drink in your hand.

The martini glass floated out of your grasp as you watched Ryuk eye the liquid inside, unceremoniously dumping it into his maw.  

“Eugh.” Ryuk grunted, some of the liquid leaking out of his wide mouth and dribbling down his face.

“What?” You shouted over the music. “You don’t like it? It’s apple-flavored!”

Ryuk’s nose scrunched in an empathetic look of disgust, and you failed to cover your laughter as you took the glass he’d held out at arms length. “Nothing about that tastes like an apple.”

You matched his melodrama with a pout of your own.

“Aww, come on! You’re being so picky.” You traded the near-empty glass for your own, still full and sloshing up to him to half-ass a toast. “It's good! You just have no taste.”

Ryuk’s golden eyes gleamed as they rested upon your open, ruddy face. He didn’t say anything more, just laughed. The sound sent a pleasant shiver crawl down your spine, while you likened it to the crackling that came when lightning struck the earth.

You smiled, feeling lightheaded with the alcohol and the fondness amix in your system. Perhaps he was the stuff of nightmares to most people, but to you, Ryuk had become a friend. And although you were unsure of whether or not you could consider your feelings reciprocated, just the thought made you happy.

You drank in his appearance. The multicolored lights bounced off the various silver bobbles that hung off his suit. His belt in particular caught the pinks and greens from above, and you studied it. It was a pretty badass belt, but it was also a practical utility even for a god of death. It was the only thing holding up his pants and loincloth as, unlike his upper body, there didn’t appear to be any stitchings between them and his skin.

He could probably take them off.

The smile on your face slowly disappeared when said thought didn’t go away immediately. Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, and you ducked your head to stare down at the grimy table, imagination lost to far off, inappropriate places. That regular queasy sensation of considering something taboo was still there, in your brain, but the wild atmosphere laid the excitement on thick and the sense diminished.      

You looked away, back out into the crowd of people, all of them completely unaware of your conundrum - as was your otherworldly companion perched overhead. There were couples in your field of vision, including May and some guy. Everything was cast in darkness down here, but you could make out the sight of your friend throwing caution to the wind and grinding on him.

Without the barrier of clothing, you were sure that May and Whateverhisnamewas wouldn’t have any trouble getting right down to it in the middle of the dancefloor.  

Eyes glazing over, your attention leapt to the heat growing in your belly. The past few weeks had given you more insight into the way the shinigami felt about you. You could be wrong, of course, but you were sure that if you asked, Ryuk would definitely take his pants off for you.

You brought a hand up to your mouth, pretending to prop yourself up by the chin to hide the gasp that escaped from your lips, even with the music drowning everything out.

The alcohol was slowly working its way through your system, you finally reassured yourself, and that was likely what was causing these intrusive thoughts. Maybe this was the strange but necessary way in which your brain was telling you that you’d hit your limit.  

Pushing away the glass, with its malty-green liquid all out of fizz, you started to slide out of the booth and address Ryuk once more.

“Hey, I’m gonna tell May we’re going.” You called.

You rolled your eyes as Ryuk leaned down, hand cupping over one ear as he made a show of not being able to understand you over the noise. You thoughtlessly swatted at his leg, inhibitions temporarily abandoned.

Ryuk looked at you. “Done for the night?”

Had you been sober, you might’ve questioned why he wasn’t throwing a fit over not staying longer. It hadn’t been too long, and often if you were too quick to jump at going home, your deathly partner would whine about how un-fun you were. That had to be especially applicable after you’d withheld the information about this weekend excursion -- Ryuk had vocalized how fascinating he found the idea once it finally escaped your lips… But he’d been quiet as soon as May arrived and hadn’t said more than a few words at a time since.

You hiccuped. “Just gotta say bye.”

Ryuk’s orbish eyes flashed as he looked off to the side, probably to help you find your way in the crowd, and you were momentarily preoccupied by whether or not you should ask May to leave with you. You doubted she would, but who knows? You didn’t want to leave her in a terrible situation if she was trapped --

With a startled yelp, you tripped on your way out of the booth, not accounting for the lift that you’d had to jump onto beforehand just to get into this ridiculous seating arrangement. You fell forward, sensible shoes scuffling the edge of the raised platform and one of your hands banging the underside of the table while you tried to grab onto whatever you could.

Tough luck, but even with Ryuk cackling in your ear, you registered one of his large, taloned hand instinctively snatching you by your arm.

Your eyes narrowed as you concentrated on having your feet planted firmly on the ground floor, and at the sudden dual set of voices confusing your already impaired senses.

Your shinigami was saying your name - or had started to - when another male voice rendered him silent.

“You good?” Suddenly there was a man beside you, arm outstretched and making you squeak as he used it to press you to him. He was either under the impression that you needed the support, or wanted to give you the impression that you needed it.

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was much too close, and Ryuk’s grip on your arm had disappeared.

*

“You sure do like looking at the human world, don’t you?”

The shinigami had his back turned to Armonia Justin whole kneeling down on the ground made of sand and dust. The name above his head rippled, but he was otherwise unresponsive.

“I suppose that makes sense.” Justin continued. “I don’t remember being as new as you. I’m not even sure if Shinigami can be considered young… but I’m sure that if I were young, the humans would distract me as well.”

Silence followed his words. It wasn’t much of an attempt at conversation, but then Justin didn’t care too much if he was entertaining their newest member or not. It was, in fact, a little annoying to put up with this arrogant shinigami and his bold refusal to integrate into their realm.

But then, the King had seemed so gleeful at the idea of this new guy. He’d laughed as though enjoying an inside joke while putting the body together.

Armonia Justin sat as he always did, perched on a golden throne. He was no king himself, but there was some truth to being of a more divine position in his case. He knew more than a lot of the others of his kind did.

A breeze blew by, rolling stagnant air about. “I’m not looking at the world.”

“Huh?” Justin asked.

“I’m not looking at the world.” The name above the Shinigami - Helios - rippled again as his tone changed to one of irritation.

“No? What else would you be doing while looking into that pool, then?” Justin snapped back.

“Searching.” Helios shrugged his shoulders beneath the overcoat he’d been bequeathed. “I heard that another death note was dropped into the human world.”

Justin paused, then began snickering. “Aha, yes, that did happen. I’m surprised you weren’t there to watch the show. I believe the death god who ‘dropped’ it was of interest to you at one point?”

“Are you trying to help him find it?”

It actually startled Armonia Justin when Helios snorted. He sounded as arrogant as ever, but some wounds had been scratched and the posture of the newborn tightened considerably.

“Like I would ever help Ryuk.” Helios shook his head. “No, no. I want to see who picked it up.” 

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 8.5

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~2,700

Warnings: Smut

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva woke alone. Groggy, she rubbed her eyes and squinted against the morning sun. She rolled to the side and instantly regretted it. The inside of her thighs, the muscles over her ribs all cried out, telling her that she’d overexerted herself. Experimentally, she reached down and pressed four fingers of one hand against her folds, wincing just a bit. She’d definitely overworked it.

Rising, she pulled on a too baggy t-shirt from her dresser and wrapped her hair up into a bun. She could smell coffee and it drew her out to the kitchen. Horacio was sitting at the bar the ran along the back of the sink, sipping from one of her souvenir mugs—Las Vegas Welcomes You!

“You’re one of those people who wakes up early and goes to the gym, aren’t you?” She deadpanned as she crossed the kitchen to make her own cup.

He laughed softly and even though she wasn’t looking at him, she knew he was shaking his head. Coffee made, she turned and circled the bar, sitting on the stool next to him. He hadn’t bothered to pull on more than his boxer briefs, and she took a moment to just look at him. Taking a sip, she reached out to smooth an errant curl. He smiled and took her hand.

For a long while, they were just...there. Sitting, drinking coffee, holding hands. Eva didn’t think that she’d done this, well, ever. With anyone. And, it was so, so nice, this feeling.

Setting his cup down, Horacio placed both hands on her knees, thumbs tracing little circles on the outside, “How are you feeling?”

She knew what he was asking, and she wondered when she’d gained the ability to read his intent so clearly. Eva covered his hands with her own, “I’m sore, but its been a while, so that’s to be expected.”

Though he said nothing, there was doubt in his expression. And then, his eyes narrowed, “You just had an inside thought.”

Eva blinked, startled, “I did.”

He shot her a look that she was coming to understand as, ‘tell me, or I will make you tell me.’ For a very short three seconds or so, she considered diverting his attention in some way. But, something told her to just get it out there. It wasn’t worth it to avoid the conversation, not when it was ruining a perfectly good hand hold.

She ran a hand up his arm, “You’ve had this conversation before, haven’t you?” He didn’t answer, but his eyes did glance to the side and back. She was right. “And, it did not go well.” Not a word, but she’d hit the nail on the head.

“You like me?” She asked, a twinge of anxiety hitting her in the stomach.

Releasing a breath, he nodded, “I like you.”

She didn’t really want to admit how relieved she was to hear it, “And, you don’t want to scare me.”

Another nod. She wondered what had happened to make him think that she could be scared of him.  What had he done that was any worse than what she had done?

“When we first met, you asked me why I wasn’t scared of you. Do you remember what I said?”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “Because I wasn’t a threat to you.”

“That’s right,” she said, “Has anything really changed since then? Leave the sex out of it, for a minute. Have you suddenly begun to regard me maliciously?”

“No.”

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“No.”

“Alright, then why do you think that you would while we were—while…” A flush crept up her neck as she stumbled over her words. Eva took a breath, then said, “What’s the difference?”

He pulled his lips between his teeth while he thought, “I don’t always have the best control when I’m…”

She smiled, “You seemed to do just fine last night.”

And, he had. He’d been attentive and considerate, warm in a way that she hadn’t ever had in a partner. That he was so unsure only solidified her resolve to clear up whatever hesitations he might have.

His brows lifted and he gave a little nod, “Barely.”

Running her tongue along her bottom lip, Eva decided to go with a different tactic.  She slid from the stool and stood between his legs, cupping his face.

“Horacio,” she breathed, skimming her thumbs over the stubble on his jaw, “I’d like to ask you a question, and I hope that you’ll be able to answer me.”

His lids fell to half mast, arms coming up and around her hips.  Eva kissed him sweetly, letting him pull her deeper into his body.

“Tell me,” she murmured, “How many times did you make me come last night?”

Eva didn’t give him the time to answer, kissing him deeply. Hands in his hair, she kept kissing him until she had to break away for air.

“Are you going to answer me?” She asked, rising up on her toes to kiss him again. “Do you remember?”

He nodded, capturing her lips again, nipping at them with his teeth, soothing them with his tongue. In between one kiss and the next, he choked out the number ‘three’.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, sighing when he palmed her breasts over her shirt, “Three. All with you barely holding it together. Now, I want you to imagine how many I would have had if you hadn’t.”

Every muscle in his body tightened, eyes alight. Eva couldn’t be sure, but she might have actually shocked him. Patting his chest, she grabbed her cup, intending to get a refill. When she turned from him, his arm enveloped her waist, pulling her back. He took her cup and set it pointedly on the bar.

Dropping his hand, Horacio traced up the side of her thigh until he reached her hip. Eva was pretty sure he’d just discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear. Eyes forward, she remained still as she waited for him to process and react.

His hand changed course, moving to cup her firmly.  Breath hitching, she widened her stance. Next to her ear, he muttered something in Spanish, tone hot.

“What was that?”

Tucking his nose behind her ear, he said, “You have the sweetest little pussy.”

Jaw dropping, she looked over her shoulder at him, “Really?”

Eva might have had it in her to feel embarrassed by the way she desperately wanted validation from him—might have, if he wasn’t caressing her so nicely. He rubbed with just enough pressure to coax her arousal along at a steady pace, mindful that she might be sensitive. She sucked in a breath, rocking on the balls of her feet, her toes curling on the hardwood.

He hummed his assent, “I love how wet you get for me.” He plunged two fingers inside, inhaling, “I love how you smell.”

Suddenly, she was being lifted up and thrown over the back of the couch. She landed with a sharp yelp, her eyes wide with surprise.

He leaned over her, smiling wide, “Don’t move.”

And then he was gone. Chuckling, Eva stayed right where she was, listening to his footsteps fade and then come back. He stepped around the end of the couch, tossed a condom onto the coffee table, and crawled over her. Pulling her thighs up and around him, he kissed her softly. One kiss blended into the next, growing deeper, hotter. Eva couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop her hands from running over every inch of exposed skin.

Pulling the t shirt off her body, Horacio threw it aside and looked down the length of her, hands smoothing along her sides. He eased her hips open, thumbs slipping down to hold her open.

“Pretty,” he breathed.

Eva, feeling just a bit exposed, gave a nervous chuckle, “First I’m sweet, now I’m pretty.”

Looking up at her from beneath his lashes, half smiling, he said, “You’re both. Sweet, pretty.” He leaned down and licked—too light to give her any real stimulation, but the visual made her suck in a breath, her heart stuttering. “Tasty.” He ran the flat of his tongue over her again, swirling it over her clit, “Hot. Wet.”

His words trailed off as he got honest about it, two fingers pushing inside. Eva’s eyes closed, a low moan sounding. Against all reason, the wave of her orgasm rose fast and hard. She cried out, head tipped back, hands gripping the cushion beneath her. He worked her through it and kept going, slowing only long enough for her to get her breath.

“I can’t,” she said hoarsely, “I can’t so soon.”

He groaned against her, lifting up just enough to say, “I disagree.”

The fingers inside her curled, pressing hard against a spot inside her that made her vision go completely black as her eyes rolled back. A strangled squeak eeked out of her throat, her muscles burning from being held so damn tightly. Her body obeyed him without having to be told, and she was soon coming again, her face buried against the back of the couch.

When she could see again, Eva pushed him to sit back into the couch cushions. She leaned over and grabbed the condom, rising to straddle him. He held her hips, steadying her as she rested most of her weight on the back of the couch, keeping distance between them.

She kissed him, dipping her tongue inside to taste a mix of them both. Mouthing down his jaw, she rasped her lips against his stubble. He dropped his chin and nuzzled into her breasts, reaching down to grab a handful of her ass.

Eva traced the waistband of his briefs, “Off.”

He slid them off, kicking them to the side while she opened the packet. She rolled on the condom, giving him a firm stroke. When she went to lower herself down on him, he grasped her hips. He held her gaze as he guided her down slow. She was wet enough that the glide was only hampered by the need to pause and let her body adjust to him. The full light of the day told her that she hadn’t been wrong when she’d felt how big he was the night previous. He stretched her wide with every push downwards, pressing against her walls deliciously.

As she took the last few inches, Eva let her forehead fall to his, their noses brushing against one another. She let herself just sit there for a minute, soaking in the heat of his skin, the way they breathed the same air. Her body was so full that she could feel his heartbeat from the inside. Though he had to be needing her to move, he didn’t pull at her, didn’t try to push her to start rocking on him. She could kiss him for that—so she did.

Long, slow kisses that poured out from her like honey, making her feel drugged. She was absolutely steeped in his scent, anchored down by it. Eva thought that she could stay just like this forever. It was a dangerous thought, one that Eva set aside as she laid kisses down his neck and over to the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Beneath that skin was a little ridge, a scent gland that told the world what he was and signaled all kinds of information—his moods, his bond status, his wants and needs. For an omega, for this omega, it drew attention and care. She pressed her tongue to it, pulling the taste of him into her mouth.

Groaning, Horacio’s grip tightened, but she felt him breathe deep, visibly centering himself. This was disappointing. She should try again. Eva rolled her tongue over the gland again, ending it with a firm suck, the sound of it loud in the quiet of the room.

He exclaimed harshly, hips driving up hard once, twice. He held her to him, one hand buried in her hair, the other wrapped around her waist. Seeming to catch himself, he rested his head on her shoulder, mumbling a sincere ‘lo siento’. He whispered it again, using the leverage of his grip on her hair to pull her face to his. She smiled, kissing him briefly, wordlessly letting him know that she was fine.

And then she went right back to what she was doing. His entirely body went lax and somehow clenched at the same time, his hands squeezing into fists. He groaned her name. He panted against her skin. But, he didn’t move. Eva marveled at the sheer amount of control he had—if the situation had been reversed, she would have done anything to get the stimulation she needed.

As it was, she could feel her body pulse with want, all her senses inundated with the feeling of the strong, aroused alpha beneath her.

“You’re doing so good.”

The thought came out as soon as it entered her mind, along with the need to reward him for everything that he was trying to do. She nosed over to the other side of his neck, thumb rubbing at the gland on that side. A rumbling growl vibrated against her chest, his heart hammering underneath. Eva leaned down and let him feel her breathe against it. God, but he smelled good everywhere. She took in deep lungfuls, fingers curling over his shoulders to hold him still—not that she needed to.

“So good,” she repeated, drawing the gland gingerly between her lips.

His chin tipped back, allowing her all the access she wanted. His moans sounded in time with her kiss, interrupted by little growls that she could tell he was fighting to hold back.

Pulling away, she looked at him. He was biting his lip so hard, she thought he might actually draw blood. Brows together, she ran a thumb over his chin, pulling gently. When he released it, she drew the reddened skin into her mouth, running her tongue over it.

Horacio kissed her hard, hands cupping either side of her head. Eva swiveled her hips a little, enjoying the little gasp he made when she ground down on him. The movement was smooth, her slick running down his cock with every pass. Unable to keep the slow pace, it wasn’t long before Eva was rocking her hips over him, angling to hit her g spot with every downward thrust.

Her entire world narrowed down on the way her body was lighting up with pleasure, tightening around him. Little groans grew into high pitched rhythmic moans. Fuck, she was going to come again.  He seemed to know it, too.

Horacio helped her along, when her hips started to falter, “I got you. Wanna feel it. I wanna feel you come on me.”

Fire burned low in her belly, billowing out so that her whole body felt encompassed by blistering heat. Eva felt a kind of ragged scream scrape past her vocal chords. She threw back her head, hair falling over her shoulders. This was different than when he made her come on his fingers or mouth. Now, she had something hard to fill her up, to crash against. There was no room inside her to push down, so the contractions rippled out, shaking her down to her bones.

He supported her through it, his own orgasm following not far behind. She sighed at the feeling, arms wrapping around his shoulders as her muscles gave out. For a long time, they just sat there, holding each other. Eva was pretty sure she’d lost all feeling below the waist. There was nothing but tingles all over her body, and this nice, lazy relaxation. She enjoyed it immensely.

Later, when they’d finally gotten dressed, he’d told her that he did need to go raid that bar, but that he’d call her later to see if she wanted him to come by. By the door, he kissed her over and over, before saying that he really did need to go, and that he would try to get back before sun down.

When he did actually leave (several kisses later), Eva laid back on her bed. She could still smell him in the sheets. She lazed for most of the day, smiling wide when the phone rang in the late afternoon.

[poppingtoi]

Missed me? - The Boyz Ji Changmin

Warning: mentions of death and murder

Why?: Kind of inspired by this cutie's duality. I know I said I was going to write fluff but it's spooky season and spooky is my element so... Here you go.

Summary: Vampire!Changmin plays some games on reader in a fantasy AU.

Part of October specials.

-You get aggressive when afraid, I get it, sir. - the stranger rolled his eyes at my father. - But you know we ain't bad, right? - he smiled at me and the sight of his sharp fangs almost made me faint.

I seriously wanted to scream "No! NO, OF COURSE I DO NOT!". I didn't know them. I knew nothing and they didn't seem nice. I was terrified.

Still, no matter how hard I tried to control my body no sound came out. All I could do was nod back at him. I had told my father I didn't think every single vampire was extremely evil but that didn't mean I liked and trusted them all.

I regretted so much defending them. What if my father thought I was stupid enough to mean yes? It was obvious he was using some sort of controlling powers over me, and it showed he was bad.

-I knew you'd understand, cupcake. - he got close even if my father's gun was aiming at him.

I wanted to vomit but I couldn't get away from him. Aside from the mind controlling trick he had a sweet chocolate scent that could only be noticed up close.

-Just forget about them, - he gestured towards his other 10 friends. - You only gotta come with me. - he smiled patting my head.

The moment he touched me I got a blurry vision. It was about him but from another person's perspective, mine actually. And so I realized that wasn't the first time I had met him.

At that time I was 7 year old and I was playing in the forest with some really nice elves when I saw a small boy curled into a ball in the distance and ran to him wondering if he was hurt.

I got on my knees in front of a boy that seemed older than me. His face was wet but I couldn't see him crying. When I asked him what was wrong he only muttered "The sun... is too bright".

Once I came back from the incomplete memories I had lost I realized it was probably him who took them from me. My father pushed him away with the gun and shot his right foot. I suddenly grabbed the hand that was patting me back in between my own, partially to try and remember more and partially to help him not fall, I didn't even realize I gained my control back.

-Get away from Changmin! - my father pulled me behind him.

I remembered I used to have an imaginary friend with that name. I don't remember what the friend was supposed to look like but I know I talked about him non-stop. Was he this same guy all along? A vampire?

-You don't remember me? - he pouted offended as if he hadn't just handed some of those memories back to me. - You seriously don't wanna come with us? - he truly didn't seem to believe an answer I hadn't even given yet. - Summer is starting tomorrow and the sun is gonna be out the 24 hours for a couple weeks. You could leave anytime but I won't be able to come get you again. It's now or never, sweetie.

I tapped my father's shoulder while staring at the ground. I was really curious about how we met before, something in the back of my head was making my heart beat faster and he was looking at me with playful shiny eyes.

-Can I have the gun? It'll be fast. - I whispered opening my hand in front of his face.

Dad knew he couldn't stop me, he was physically unable to do that because of the magical promise he made to my mom. I heard a few of his friends growl once the gun was in my hands.

We walked in silence behind the other 10 boys. I was a good hunter so I wasn't that worried. I had no idea where we were headed but the sun was coming up soon and I wasn't going to get inside with them before being sure I could trust them.

-I know what you did. - I said looking at him but Changmin completely ignored me. - Can you give me back some more memories or something before we arrive?

-Of course I can do that, pumpkin. - he smiled and the dimples kind of made the scary creature cute.

I didn't quite get what he meant by that. My skin was pretty sensitive so I thought he just had it worse. Anyways, the only magical item I owned was useful for that specific case.

-If that's your problem I might be of help. I've got this moon, see?

-The... moon? - he looked up at me like a lost puppy. - I hate werewolves.

-I haven't met any yet so I can't say anything about it but that has nothing to do with this. It's not The Moon but a moon. It's small, see? - I actually used to ask "see?" a lot when I was younger. - It will give us some moonlight, in theory it will be stronger than the sunshine so it won't hurt you if you stay close.

We spent the afternoon together. At first I was just walking with him and telling him about my day. Then I started to run while holding the moon tightly to force him to run after me, but thanks to his speed he was able to keep up with me, laughing.

-Was that the only time we met?

-Unfortunately, yes. I couldn't let you tell anyone about me. - he looked down sad and starting getting closer.

But we arrived at their place before he could touch me. I thought I understood enough so I followed him inside the old castle. Just as I got in someone growled at my right and tried to touch me.

-Kevin, stop, I told you about her already, didn't I? - Changmin pushed him back and took my hand, leading me somewhere else in the house. - Don't worry, they won't do anything to you.

He took me to a dark room without windows in the deepest part of the mansion. When he turned on the lights all I could see in the room was a small computer and some speakers on a table at the left.

Apparently they usually danced there. And it kind of made sense, mirrors would be useless for vampires. He played a couple songs to show off before he made me join him. We had fun but my stamina wasn't that great.

I didn't realize how fast time was passing by since there was no connection to the outside world and I was busy telling him about everything that happened after we met. I felt like I was trying to catch up with an old friend.

But at some point I had to remember my house, right? I thanked him for everything and he gave me a dimpled smile back. The moment I turned around he held my hand, pouting.

-You sure you wanna go now? It could be late, maybe you want to sleep for a while and avoid goblins. - I simply nodded, knowing my father would kill me if I stayed for too long. - Okay.

I made my way to the door but stopped halfway to stare at the lights. Thousands of small fairies were being electrocuted inside the hundreds of small light bulbs that surrounded us. That made me feel uneasy so I ran to the door.

Only to notice it was completely locked and hear him chuckle behind me. He clapped throwing his head back before throwing his whole body forward. Then he looked up at me amused and slightly flirty.

-You trust me that much? But I'm a vampire. - he played with my hair and I tried to push his hand only to realize I was frozen again. - Here, let me help you out.

-Here let me help you out.

The boy took a piece of rope out of one of his cape's pockets and picked up the moon to tie it with the rope after it had fell off my hand for the fifth time. He moved behind me to tie it as a necklace.

-You won't lose it like this, right?

I waited patiently for him to make a knot and come back in front of me. But he was constantly pulling the two ends of the rope, the necklace becoming more and more tight even if he wasn't tying it yet.

I was running out of breath and becoming weak, falling against him as fear came over me and I saw my short life flash through my eyes. A sudden strength helped me throw myself back with enough strength to break free and run away as he stole my memories.

I gasped when I came back to my senses and noticed he was even closer. I closed my eyes as he moved my head to expose my neck. His fingers trailed my face from my chin through my jaw to finally caress down my neck.

-You know? I'm hungry, it's been so long since I last had a meal this morning. - my eyes grew wide when his sharp fangs grew even bigger as he got closer to my neck.

-Are you gonna...? - I barely started asking with the little control I gained back.

-Took you long enough. - he smirked and pressed his fangs against my skin slowly, purposely causing me more pain before he drank all of my blood.

-Your "how I died" story was lame. Wait until you all hear mine. - the cute little fox-like boy smirked getting into the middle of our cercle to push me out and start his narration.

[tobiomlk]

39 for kageyama if you can ....... please :')

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿. kageyama tobio

𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁. #39 “don’t cry.”

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲. hurt / comfort !!! tobio is no good with tears and i love him

Kageyama knows it’s bad when Suga-senpai confronts him about it.

“So,” he ambushes him during lunch time, around the vending machine (Of course he waits around the vending machine, Kageyama’s favoured spot to get his daily dose of milk). “What happened?”

Kageyama frowns. “About what?”

“You know what I mean.” However, Sugawara smiles, in that nurturing way of his that always makes Kageyama feel a little lighter. And a little troubled as well, because he can’t believe how utterly transparent he could be at times.

Kageyama chooses to direct his glowering towards the vending machine, gaze flickering between a carton of milk or yogurt, a predicament he struggled with each day— but which was considerably easier to deal with, next to the one he currently had at hand, that’s it. He growls when he notices the guilt is dawning upon him, again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sugawa asks, gently as ever, and Kageyama wants to say no, because a part of him does not wants to talk about it. But the other part, the vulnerable, insecure one, seems to be taking over him more often than not these days, and so he decides there’s no harm in speaking to a familiar face.

Far too violently, Kageyama presses both buttons simultaneously and lets the vending machine do the decision for him. “We had a fight,” he says, quietly. 

“So I heard,” Sugawara recognizes, but Kageyama isn’t really phased about it. Suga is, like, everyone’s go-to when it came for a comforting presence. He’s reliable, a good listener, and just as great at offering advice. He’s the type of person with lots of strengths that Kageyama himself lacks, and Kageyama can’t help but envy him, just a tiny bit. “It was that bad?” he probes, and Kageyama purses his lips in a flat line.

To put it truthfully, it wasn’t supposed to be that bad. To put it very frankly, it was incredibly and thoroughly moronic of both of you to have gotten so worked up over such a silly argument. Because that’s what it was; a silly argument, a minor discussion that the two of you blowed out of proportion and allowed to scalate the way it did. Stupid, sensitive teenagers.

“Have you tried talking to them?” Sugarawa asks.

“Yes,” Kageyama replies, but he doesn’t seem precisely happy. “but they don’t wanna talk to me.”

“The cold shoulder, huh?” Sugawara sighs, very much like a father would do. “Well, they can be quite petty, too.”

Kageyama nods in silence, lacking for better words. It frustrates him to no end, to be on such terms with you, to have you completely overlooking his existence. It frustrates him. And he doesn’t even gets to apologize or raise the flag of truce because you won’t even look his way. The mere thought is enough to have him slamming his head into the wall and scream at the top of his lungs.

“What are you planning to do, then?” 

Kageyama stops himself from doing so, though. “What can I do? They’re gonna ignore me anyways.”

“But you don’t want to let things go on like this, do you?”

Kageyama’s frowns deepens (if that’s even possible), but before his brain’s broken wires can sort out a way out of this fucking mess, his focus is taken away by a tiny little drop in his right cheek— followed by another one, and other one—

“Well, no one told me that it would be raining today,” Sugawara says as he looks up, gray clouds gathering above them. “C’mon, let’s get going before we get soaked.”

Kageyama agrees, although half-heartedly. For whatever reason, the light drizzle failing upon them seems to be reminding him of something, but he can’t exactly put his finger as to what it is. He always brings his umbrella, he couldn’t possibly have forgotten it—

Oh.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Powerless, you stand at the entrance of the school as you take in how the harmless rain at the beginning of the day had evolved into a massive downpour. Most of the students proceed to head off under the shelter of their respective umbrellas; shelter you can’t afford because, mind you, you rarely cared enough to bring an umbrella of your own. 

Tobio always shared his with me, after all…

No. Don’t think about Tobio. Don’t think about Tobio and his pouty face and how he always puts up a fight before letting you get away with whatever you want, the space under his umbrella included. Don’t you think about it. You’re supposed to be mad at him, and rightfully so. He was mean (and so were you) and said mean things (and so did you) and you weren’t going to let it slide just like that. You had a pride to keep. Yes. You had one. 

(But what about him?) No, this isn’t about him. This isn’t about him. (He’s probably hurt, too) And that’s on him. He started it all (let’s be real, you kinda were at fault as well) and he’s gotta live with it. (But he tried? To apologize? Several times?) NO. You don’t wanna hear it. You’re mad, reasonably mad, and it’s perfectly warranted. You could be mad for the rest of your life, if you wanted to (but you didn’t). End of the discussion.

The rain comes down steadily. It doesn’t seem like it’s going to stop any time soon. Fuck it. You’re not letting the rain keep you stuck with your inner conflict any longer. You bend forward to make sure your shoes are strongly tied and place your backpack over your head, making the perfect shield. You’re Unstoppable now. No rain is getting into your way.

Ready, steady...

“What are you doing, dumbass?”

Go— Ok, no go.

You’re torn between offering him a snarky reply, scowling at him or simply icing him out, but once you lock eyes with Tobio all you want to do is (redacted). Oh, would you look at that, you brain has already repressed that memory!

“None of your concern,” you end up saying, immediately averting his gaze. Tobio can’t even feel glad about you finally breaking your vow of silence towards him.

“Is that so,” he replies, and you hate how defeated he sounds. How can you be mad at him if he doesn’t make it easy for you?

“Are you heading home?” he tries once again, and you’re definitely not endeared by it.

“Well, I was going to before someone stopped me.” 

“It’s raining,” he points out.

“It certainly is,” you agree.

An uncomfortable silence follows. It’s one you aren’t used to at all, especially around Tobio. It felt so wrong.

You’re oh-so interested into the tip of your shoes that it startles you a little when a familiar umbrella suddenly appears in your field of vision. You didn’t even feel Kageyama coming closer, but there he was; standing a few steps away from you, handing his very own blue-ish umbrella. It takes you a second to take in the whole situation.

“Here,” he says, not budging an inch from his position. There are so many things you could question, but you can’t even find your voice to do so. Kageyama scoffs. “Don’t give me that look. You never bring one yourself, do you?”

And then it hits you. Violently, like a sudden epiphany, even when it’s something you’ve known for a long time now.

He cares.

Seeing you aren’t trying to accept the offer, Tobio nudges the umbrella in your direction, vehemently. Nothing. He knits his brows together. He knows you’re stubborn, but so is he, and he isn’t taking a no for answer— Wait.

“... Are you crying?” 

It’s crazy how all it takes for you to crack are three words, because suddenly you’re choking on your own tears, so it’s kinda pointless to try to keep appearances now. And Kageyama dies a little, because oh my god you’re crying.

“Hey… Hey!” he flails, voice admittedly cracking. “Why are you crying? It’s— It’s something I did?”

But since you’re in no condition to speak up, his questions remain unanswered. He has never been at such a loss for words as he stares at you, sobbing and whimpering and scrubbing at your face just to let more tears stream down your cheeks, pretty much like a kid would do, which only makes it all the more heart-wrenching. All the more unbearable to witness.

Kageyama unconsciously searches in his pockets for a handkerchief or a tissue or anything that would make you stop crying, really, only to realize he doesn’t even has one of those to offer up. But there’s something in the way you cry your heart out that shakes him to the very core, that disarms him and calls for desperate measures. So, he does something he usually wouldn’t.

You flinch noticeably when a hand hesitantly brushes against your cheek. The touch is awkward, yet undeniably gentle, and you momentarily stop your crying to blink up at him through the tears. It’s blurry, but you can still make out his deep blue eyes. The way he freezes as soon as he’s caught, like he’s just broken some sort of unspoken rule by initiating physical contact and is waiting for divine retribution or something. His lips pursing in that signature pout of his. You take in every part of him, gratefully.

“You hate me?” You don’t even realize how uncalled for your question sounds until it’s out, but what is done is done, and Kageyama seems so genuinely bewildered— It’s almost laughable.

“How could I possibly hate you?”

And that’s all you need to put aside every bit of your stubborn pride.

“I don’t wanna fight anymore,” you state, finally.

Kageyama needs an actual second to register your words. “Ok,”

“I hate fighting.”

“Me too,” he admits, far too quickly to be insincere, far too unfiltered for your liking.

“I don’t wanna be mad at you,” You’re probably just running your mouth at this point, but you just can’t bring yourself to stop. “and I don’t want you to be mad at me, either.”

“I’m not mad at you.” he says, and it’s as comforting as it is nerve-wrecking. “And you don’t have to be mad, if you don’t want to.”

Sniffle. A tiny, selfish tear attempts to slip away, but Tobio wipes it before she gets too far. “So don’t cry…”

But crying does not obeys anyone’s command, so you keep sniffing and snivelling for a while until you’re finally done with it, and Tobio stays. He’d stay forever, if you’d let him.

Eventually, the rain ceases.

[dfcfanfics]

A Big Ol' Season Four Plot Bunny For You To Raise: Miraculous Prompt of the Day

So... here we are. Truth has aired. Lies has aired. In an imaginary show with Serial Storytelling Continuity, which is not something Miraculous is particularly known for, where ought we to go from here?

The first tentative attempt at actual romance for both Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste... didn't go quite as either of them had intended, both with whom they gave it a try with and how it ended up. Needless to say, this brings on a lot of emotions in each of them, and as much as certain friends of theirs would like to see newly-single-again classmates hook up... neither one of them is ready for that.

- - -

Marinette knows that Adrien and Kagami broke up... but no matter what Alya may think, that doesn't mean that it's time to make her move on him. Quite the opposite, in fact. To move on Adrien now would likely put a major strain on her friendship with Kagami... making her think that Marinette might have been undermining things behind her back to get Adrien for herself, which is the last thing Marinette wants her to believe. (Largely because it isn't true.) She is second-guessing herself over how things ended with Luka... here was a boy who was sweet, caring, sensitive, eager to please and very much into her, and she couldn't find a way to make that work due to everything else in her life. So how can she even think about going after the boy she gets tongue-tied around on the regular? And, most importantly... all of the stresses and responsibilities that torpedoed Lukanette are still right there in her life. Breaking up with Luka was hard enough for her to do... but if she tried to start something with Adrien and then broke _his_ heart as well... that would destroy her.

But she is seeing Adrien moping around, obviously unhappy, weathering the strain of all that's going on his life, and she knows one thing for sure...

He needs a friend. A GOOD friend. Someone to comfort him, to be his anchor, to be the best friend they can possibly be to him.

That may be all that he's ever wanted from me... and if that's what he needs from me, he's damned sure going to get it.

- - -

All things considered... Adrien isn't any happier with his situation. His default response to most problems is "what did I do to cause this"; the fact that he _does_ bear some responsibility for Adrigami not working out makes that weigh all the more upon him. He thinks about all the other couples in his peer group, and how most of them seem perfectly stable... and his brain spends far too many cycles trying to work out what made him incapable of that.

There is a certain pretty classmate, sitting right in back of him, who might seem like a good choice for an emotional rebound... but Adrien can't do that to her. She's told him, straight to his face on multiple occasions, that she doesn't think of him romantically. Whenever the subject even comes up, she reacts awkwardly... and causing one of his favorite people emotional distress just eats away at Adrien. Some Stormy Weather 2-era thoughts do cross his mind... the unsigned Valentine that he's now sure was from her, for instance... and she DOESN'T have Luka now, as he was sure that she did then. But the last thing he'd want to do is pressure Marinette, who is amazing but can be a little fragile at times, with something that he's sure that she doesn't want.

But he watches her every day in school, and it's obvious to him... Marinette is hurting. She's being stretched thin by something in her life, and it's wearing on her, and her normal good cheer and pleasant smile just don't seem to want to show up very often any more. And he knows one thing for sure...

That girl needs a friend. A GOOD friend. Someone to comfort her, someone she can rely upon, someone to be the best friend they can possibly be to her.

And maybe that's all that she'll ever want from me... but I'll always want to be what it is that she needs most.

- - -

And so... a friendship finally begins to blossom properly. When Adrien begins asking Marinette if she'd like to walk and talk for a bit, if he could hang out with her after school, if she'd like to come over and spend a little time with him at his house... at first, Marinette is more than a little bit startled and hesitant. Her friends think that Adrien is finally making his move on her... but his words don't seem to match up with what Adrien tells her when they're alone. He seems genuine about simply wanting to know her better, to wipe out whatever awkwardness that he thinks he's caused in the past... and, lord, she thinks, he needs someone to connect to and he's reaching out to her and how can she not respond to that?

And, slowly, the two become largely inseparable. They eat lunch together, they spend what little free time they have together, they text and call each other at night... the yin has finally met the yang, and this time they fit together perfectly. If you were to ask either one of them, of course, "we're NOT a couple" would be what you'd hear... because neither one even brings up the subject of romance or kissing or officially dating. But anyone watching the two of them together couldn't possibly imagine either of them dating anyone else.

Not to mention that, when Akumas threaten and they need to make a quick escape and an unexplained disappearance... Marinette and Adrien soon discover that each other might be the ONLY people that seem just as evasive as they are. When danger appears, they don't face twenty questions when they need to separate OR when they get back. Not that they don't care about each other's welfare... more like that neither one seems to want to push the question of "where did you go and what did you do" very hard, as long as the other ends up okay.

And THAT is a major comfort for both of them.

- - -

It doesn't take THAT long, however... for Adrien to find himself wanting more. He had found himself attracted to nervous, tongue-tied, awkward Marinette over time; relaxed, chatty, comfortable friend Marinette starts taking up more and more space in his dreams each night. He's conscious that he's missed out on what might've been opportunity for this to happen "for real"... but he can feel their closeness growing daily. He can't be the only one who feels it, right? Maybe she's got some feelings slowly growing... just like he knows that his are?

He pulls Alya aside one afternoon, feeling desperate, and asks her... has Marinette ever hinted to HER that she's had romantic feelings for him? And Alya hesitates momentarily... but sees the opening that might FINALLY bring the two of them together, and spills. Of _course_ she has, she says. She's been crazy about you since the second day you met. She's nervous around you because she likes you that much, and she always has. She kept pulling back because she was always sure that you would say "no." How could you not tell any of that, you dum-dum?

And, so... Adrien begins to slowly escalate things. A "let's hang out after school" invite becomes "would you like to join me for dinner at my house?", and then "what are you doing Saturday night?" Friendly hugs begin to linger, just a little bit. Marinette sees a light in Adrien's eyes that wasn't there before... and it's a light that she's desperately wanted to see, a spark that filled her own dreams for over a year, the answer to her prayers.

But... her internal nightmares haven't gone away. She's still Ladybug, she's still the Guardian, she's still playing zookeeper for a menagerie of Kwamis that are more than a headache to manage sometimes. She's still stressed, she's still being pulled thin... and she's still got that vision in her head of starting things with Adrien, them falling apart just like they did with Luka... and THEN what? She'd have screwed things up with her One True Love, broken his heart, and she'd have to live with that forever.

So her answer to his slowly-escalating requests for Actual Dates... is 'no.' And it stays that way.

- - -

Adrien is highly confused. It's not that he doesn't understand what 'no' means; he's heard it enough times from Ladybug, after all. She's feeling fragile, and he doesn't want to press too hard and break what they've built up together as friends. But on the other hand, his feelings are growing every day. He can SEE and FEEL Marinette's growing bond with him. Alya told him and keeps telling him, look, she IS crazy about you, I know she is!

...So what is it that he's doing horribly wrong _now_?

Their friends are bewildered... especially Alya. These two are made for each other; Martians staring at the Earth through telescopes can tell that. They are pining for each other; Nino hears about it from Adrien every day, when they're alone; he's so sure that he's doing something wrong, but he can't figure out what. Marinette admits it to Alya, when THEY'RE alone; she feels Adrien reaching out and she is soooooo tempted to reach back.

"So what in the world is STOPPING you?" Alya and Nino both say.

Each of them is startled when their close friend makes a decision, one fateful afternoon. Marinette faces Alya, while across town, Adrien faces Nino.

"There's something that's in the way. Something major," each says. "Something that I've been hiding from everyone... and especially from THEM."

Their friends look startled as they speak. "What I am about to tell you... cannot leave this room. EVER. You must never tell another living soul. Not your parents, not our friends, ESPECIALLY not your boy/girlfriend. If this gets out and becomes public knowledge, my life will be ruined!"

"Then why are you telling me this?" they ask, simultaneously.

"Because if I am ever going to have any kind of life... or a relationship with anyone... I need help figuring this out. And right now... that means you. Do I have your WORD?"

"You do..."

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 18

Description: Karanduniash.

Notes: BABYLON BABY!! I loved writing this chapter I fucking love Babylon! WC: 6.5k

+

"Pretty... I love you."

From hazy darkness the words echoed, bringing him to consciousness out of a deep, long sleep. The black edges of his vision disappeared with each blink, and he quickly recognized your voice speaking.

I love you?! He thought in a panic.

He bolted to sit up straight, his eyes wide as the moon when you jumped back. As he glanced to you, he found you with Sephys in your lap, your mouth hung open.

"Oh," he finally let out a breath, "sorry. Not sure what just happened."

The light of the sun was peeking over the horizon, silhouetted by the distant mountains and the plains inbetween. Orange, yellow, and a peach red painted the sky, hanging like a silk blanket over your little camp; a spot along the Euphrates that wasn't entirely muddy, where Ahk had the night before hung the tarp to shield you from any of the harsher elements. You had already lit the campfire, and the flames flickered high into the atmosphere.

"Be calm, Aganu," you said with a chuckle. "It is food time!"

"Ahhh yes," he said, grunting as he forced himself to his feet. "Can't wait till we're in Babylon."

"Why is that?" You asked.

"Won't have to hunt for my fuckin' breakfast," he said, and you burst out laughing.

Fish, again. Of course. It was the only assured thing along the river's length, and it was more nutritious than any roots or vegetables you could find in the wild. The first thing Ahkmen had to do in the morning was to take up a poorly-made spear––which was only a comment on his own handiwork, since he'd been the one who made it in the first place––and wade into the cold water, soaking his feet in the soft mud of the riverbed.

He turned back to you in hopes of some comfort, but while your smile was there, it was more teasingly cruel than it was teasingly sweet. He frowned.

"Do we have anything else to eat except fish?"

"Now, we do not have even the fish," you said, gesturing to his empty spear.

His teeth ground together, a low chuckle building in his chest as he tossed the spear aside, splashing into the water. Once you got over your own laughter you noted his intense expression, quickly falling silent. He launched forward onto you, running out of the river and pouncing upon you, trapping you to the ground beneath him as he cackled, attempting to touch your most sensitive place––your neck. You laughed madly as you tried to push his hands away, your legs kicking beneath the weight of his body.

"No! No, stop!" You managed to shout through your laughter.

He grasped both your wrists, pinning your flailing hands to your sides.

"Come fish with me," he said, panting softly. "That way I don't have to do it all the time."

Your expression soured into reluctance, your lips pressed into a thin line as you looked away.

"I do not like making things dead," you said quietly.

"If you can't hunt it, don't eat it," he said as he moved off you, slowly releasing you from a grip that you only now noticed was leaving marks.

"I do not know if that is saying I do not eat fish, or I need to kill fish," you said, sitting up. "And if I do not eat fish, I will be dead of hunger."

"Well –" he blinked rather blankly, "- that phrase doesn't work as well in our situation. My point is it's a good idea to learn how to do it. It is, in a little way, a part of being in this world."

The word 'learn' had you perking up. Even the suggestion of that reaction had Ahk perking up, as well. If there was one thing you shared in common, it was your hunger to learn, which had consequently brought you both on this journey together.

"Okay," you said after a couple minutes, within which Ahk had fetched his spear back from running downstream in the slow current. "I will make the fish dead."

"Good for you," he said with a smile, helping you up with his hand. "Also it's called killing."

"Etuvaka."

You did, as it turned out, have a little bit of food, which you suggested eating after you discovered you needed to fashion your own spear. Ahk shot you a playful glare but said nothing as you split it in half, handing one half to him and nibbling on the other one yourself.

Before you started anything, you needed to get your tools, which could fortunately be found in a relatively close area. Ahkmen helped you to find the right type of stick, one that would be easy to mold and throw. His knife wouldn't do for carving, apparently––the wood would dull it far too much, so instead the two of you looked for a stone, with which you could smooth the stick of any twigs and knots, as well as sharpen the end to a point.

"Be careful when you're holding it," he told you, reaching over to manually shift your fingers. "When you're going down in such a quick motion, it's really easy to catch your fingers against the wood."

You nodded.

By the time you cleaned the handle of the stick free of knots, your remaining bread was gone, your stomachs half-satiated to continue to the sharpening. That passed quickly enough after Ahk physically demonstrated how to do it, and soon you were standing in the Euphrates with your pants rolled way up to your thighs.

"You could've just taken your pants off, you know," he said quietly.

"Ah, 'sut' up," you said. His brow furrowed in confusion but he said nothing.

He taught you a good method of throwing that would prevent cramping up your wrist, should you be repeatedly unsuccessful, which he assured you would happen at one point or another. Your form was fine, but you had issues throwing the stick hard enough, so more often than not, your spear was easily loosed from the rocks and mud to float downstream.

You gasped the first time it happened, running after it, and nearly soaking your whole outfit in the process. Ahk managed to reach over at the right time, grabbing you by the back of your dress to hold you above the muddy water. The spear was in your hand.

"Thanks," you said, your voice strained as he dragged you back over to him, setting you on your feet.

"Of course. Try again."

In a couple more tries, the spear finally stuck, earning you a proud grin from Ahk. Of course, no fish––he couldn't find any either, and he worried the mud you both stirred up had deterred the fish.

Sephys meowed loudly from the shore until you finally caught something––the first out of the both of you. Ahkmen clapped you on the back, congratulating you wholeheartedly as you made your way back onto land. Despite the fact that it wasn't all that big of a fish, Ahk started the fire for you, and set to skinning the fish so you wouldn't have to. A contrast from his excuse to get you to fish with him, but neither of you really noticed.

He let you cook breakfast not of his own accord, but by your suggestion, reminding him he often over and undercooked food at the same time. He did sit by your side though, and offered help whenever he thought you could use it.

"I want to be in Babylon, also," you said, twisting the skewer over the fire.

"And what's your reason?"

"So I do not have to cook your food," you said, grinning as you turned to him. He belted out a laugh.

"Fair enough, darling," he said as he leant back.

You giggled sheepishly at his reply, your cheeks flushing as you quickly looked away.

"Do you like that name?" He asked, watching you carefully as your expression fell into bashfulness.

"I do not know what it means," you chuckled weakly.

"I'm not sure, actually," he admitted as you reluctantly met his eye, "but I think it means dear to my heart."

"Deer?"

"Important," he tried, and that seemed to work, though you still didn't say anything.

Several minutes later you called him over, and the two of you ate in relative silence. You picked at a few overcooked spots, handing what you didn't want to Sephys, who gladly ate whatever you offered.

It took you less than thirty minutes to pack up––a routine both of you unwittingly picked up after many mornings spent collecting your belongings and removing the greater traces of a camp. You collected food, tools, and blankets, while Ahk got rid of the ash from the fire, and untied the tarps. At the end of it all Sephys jumped back in your backpack, and the two of you hauled your bags off the ground to set out on your way.

A blue sky hung above you as you walked, rejuvenated in your purpose. Time alone with one another was calming to say the least––no worry about others or their needs, instead supplying for a much smaller group that was easier to manage. But it was much quieter, and the two of you didn't always have something to say. Much of your time was spent in silence.

Until –

"Woah what the FUCK?!" You suddenly said.

"Pfft –" Ahk burst into astounded laughter. He'd never heard you swear before––or, at least, not in Egyptian.

"That – what is, what is that?" You said, wide eyes set dead upon the river's edge.

Ahk followed your gaze and came face to face with a very strange looking turtle. His mouth fell open partway, his brow furrowing deeply. Its' head was quite small, drawn to a point around the nose that looked much like a pig's nose, and the shell was made out of the same skin as the feet that splayed out in rolls of uneven fat. The neck, which was both short and thick, also had rolls of skin that made it look rather... phallic, unfortunately. The eyes were almost on the top of its' head.

"What the fuck indeed," he said, blinking several times.

"What is it?"

The head moved and you both jumped back.

"It's a turtle," he said. "Probably."

"It is a mud pile," you said, laughing almost cruelly.

"Aww, come on now. Don't be mean," he chuckled, gently punching your shoulder.

"No, no, I love him," you said with a grin, easing back into your stroll. Ahk joined you in stride.

"We could take him with us," he said despite having already left without the strange turtle.

"I think he is too..." you puffed out your cheeks, "to carry."

"Heavy?"

"Yes, I think," you nodded.

The two of you walked down the Euphrates with only the running water sounding for a moment before Ahkmen spoke again.

"You know, your Egyptian has gotten much better," he said, suppressing a smile when you stuttered.

"Ah, I.. uh, I speak more with you, so I remember it better," you mumbled.

"I think you're good with languages," he said with a shrug that rocked his heavy backpack off its balance. "That'll be good for these next couple cities on our way."

"It is also good for you, if you are good with languages, when you are in Harappa," you pointed out.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "we'll see."

Silence prevailed, surrounding you instead with birds, the river, and frogs that croaked loudly on lily pads and within muddy fens. Reeds that grew past even Ahkmen's head concealed other such animals Sephys often jumped at, usually followed by her scrambling out of the plants with bared claws. You giggled but scolded her when you almost tripped over her.

The next dry but shaded spot you found became your noon stop, allowing you a break from the grueling weight and heat, and a solace in food and a relieving lack of sun. Ahkmen had been raised to worship the sun––that was the main cult of his father––but he was the first to thank the Gods that shade existed.

"I cannot believe we never found any camels for this damn trip," he said, staring at his dried fish critically.

"We have, with Batnoam. For the long, hard part," you said.

"And all we had to do in return was starve in the desert for a couple days," he said cheerfully.

"Look at me, Aganu," you said, and he turned to you, his half-eaten fish still in hand. You cupped his face, squishing his cheeks up in a way that had you grinning as you said, "we are not dead. I am dead, if I had this journey done with you not here."

He chuckled, raising his hand to cover yours on his face.

"You're more resilient than I thought you'd be, actually," he admitted.

"Resilin?"

"Strong, standing proud against your enemy or.. you know, like that," he said with a shrug.

"I did tell you, I am strong," you said, grinning.

It wasn't long––only about a day and a half, actually––till structures and small houses began to appear along each shore of the Euphrates. The first signs of human life appeared alongside with it, children running about, and adults harvesting thick groves of reeds. Small skiffs floated up and down the water, piloted by people who pushed the boat along the riverbed as Ahk had done in the Nile.

Many of the animals seemed comfortable with the river's inhabitants, as well. Stray dogs wandered from house to house, and as you got further down the river, the mud huts with reed thatchings made way for true clay houses, squared off and holding stables roofs that people slept on in the cool night. During the day, however, most people worked beneath reed platforms, allowing stripes of sunlight to just barely peek through and illuminate their work, oftentimes being the weaving of women creating blankets bigger than your whole house.

You were quite taken with their way of life––with the build of their homes, the style of their clothes, and the textiles they created. Ahkmen just chuckled and kept moving ahead, oftentimes having to drag you with.

"Just wait," he said, side-eyeing you with a knowing grin. "The interesting part hasn't even started yet."

Babylon had seen many iterations of itself in the past, but the most astonishing part was that it managed to keep many of its' ancient counterparts thriving within the city. You of course didn't know this––Ahk did, and he thrummed with the excitement crowding useless facts till they spilled out of his mouth.

The walls of the city came into view rather quickly, solidifying hours later when the colors and height of it became obvious. Spiked, blue tiled towers were built in equal lengths apart from each other, growing away from the entrance, whose gate dwarfed the various travellers entering the city. Between those towers, thick, white walls hid the inside from view, trimmed with a golden brick at the top. On either side of the entrance were strange, gold statues of what appeared to be a lion with a man's head. Below those were fountains of water that poured into a moat that surrounded the whole of the city, leaving only one possible point of entry; across a low, brick bridge.

You passed through green fields irrigated with trickling water, and mud houses built with reed-thatched roofs that blocked out the harsh sun. Patches of strange fruit lay amongst the staple crops––barley next to grapes, wheat next to almonds, pistachios, and dates.

Your mouth fell open, staring up at the engravings circling the towers at the top. On the bottom of the blue towers were imprints mimicking the golden statues. Fortunately for Ahk, you kept moving without having to be reminded, and you were soon presenting yourself to the soldiers.

"Intent?" The guard asked.

You were busy staring at the massive spikes that dug into the ground whenever the bar gate was lowered, so Ahk was mostly left alone.

"Sorry, do you speak Egyptian or Sumerian?" He asked in the most polite way he could.

"Urhammu?" The guard said, turning to his compatriot, who quickly came over. He said something in Akkadian that Ahkmen couldn't understand.

The other guard, whose name Ahk assumed was Urhammu, nodded and turned to Ahk.

"What is your intent for entering this city?" Urhammu asked in Sumerian. Ahk let out a tiny breath.

"We have travelled from Egypt and we need rest before we continue our journey," Ahk explained. "We'll probably be here for a while but we'll spend plenty of money."

"That is the answer for the next two questions, then," he said, pursing his lips as he tried to remember what the next was. "Where are you going after you leave?"

"Down to Harappa."

"Where is that?"

"South-east of Elam," Ahk recalled from his map.

"Be careful in Elam. They are violent people," the guard said flatly.

Ahkmen had to bite his cheek to stop from retorting something that'd get both of you kicked out of the city before you ever even entered.

"Are we allowed in then?" Ahk asked.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"Knife," he said as he pulled out the small dagger you'd been using for preparing the fish.

"Good then. You may enter," Urhammu said with a nod, motioning for the next group to step up.

You and Ahk grinned as you rushed into the city, running from shadow––that lasted through three gates with the sheer thickness of the outer wall––into daylight that streamed past the high walls, flowing in the streets like aqueducts enlivening the whole city. Lining the pathways were strips of green, though the date trees that must've once been a deep green were more yellowed and dry than usual. Along each of the strips were, in fact, aqueducts, allowing a thin layer of water to rule the city that stood as a beacon in a waterless desert.

A large bridge awaited you as the first landmark of the city, on either side lowered grounds inhabited by groves of homes built upon each other, and the streets between hidden by tarps and palm trees. The scent of cooking meat and stirred vegetables hit you with mouth-watering allure, but the best was still yet to come.

Stone plazas stretched out past the bridge, decorated by the walls that surrounded it in blue, gold, silver, and white. Various guards and soldiers stood at each of the gates around the stone stretch, standing beside glazed images of lions, flowers, and pillars of faience delicately mosaicked into the walls. Though this plaza was mostly vacant, the sound of distant conversations, clanking metals, and animal calls marked the presence of a vast market, hidden behind one of the three entrances presented to you. The sheer size of the empty plot caught both of you by surprise––the cities you'd seen as of recent were nothing compared to the sprawling empire of the city-state of Babylon.

You jogged to the center, a place that allowed you to peer into each of the gates. The one opposite of where you'd come from lead to yet another bridge, hanging over gardens that built up in massive terraces on either side, ranging from far beneath and high above. To your right appeared to be a large home or temple, and to the left was a gate leading through an array of pillars before a smaller archway came into view.

"This way?" Ahk suggested, pointing to the left with his thumb.

You nodded and the two of you set off again, a certain quickness in your step.

"I am so happy!" You giggled, practically jumping down the corridor. Your hands raised excitedly to your chest, clapping quietly.

"Any specific reason for that?" Ahk asked with a chuckle.

"The magic! All cities have magic, I did know this, and I will know the magic for Babylon too," you said.

The pillars had you slightly distracted with their intricate decorations, their mosaics made of gem tiles smaller than your fingernails.

"If you're talking about lessons, we'll probably have to pay for that," Ahk said, shifting the straps on his shoulders. "And we already have to pay for a place to stay. Most likely with labor."

"They do not like gold?" You asked.

"I'm sure they do," he chuckled, "but it's not exactly useful to someone who runs a tavern."

"Maybe," you said, returning to his side after spinning out to get a good look at the pillars. "Now, we get food?"

"And beer."

"Lots," you agreed.

Ahkmen had to read a lot about Babylon during his time in the house of life, but most of the readings were about the mythology or the royal lineage, not about the commoner's life. Thus he expected the markets to be much like the ones in Memphis or Thebes––crowded, with an array of stalls displaying anything from gemstones and godly idols to spices and pottery.

The two of you were met first by seamsters and seamstresses, threading together thin lines of colored silk to reveal the image hidden in millions of strings. A single carpet––or blanket, neither of you could tell––was being worked on by at least ten people, sewing diligently the long ends of the fabric. Several of the were tying tassels on the finished edges, carefully braiding the vibrant colors of purple, gold, and crimson. Beyond them, the market––stretching invisibly beyond the haze of midday heat.

Crowds coalesced into smaller groups, wandering the marked pathways with long dresses that brushed against the stone ground. The tiles of the market were cleaned well, but by the simple occupation of the area, sand and dirt were brushed up into corners in tiny hills. Tame dogs and birds hopped around the free area, expertly avoiding the moving legs of people.

The stalls, though––numbering many, and most highly specialized for its' product. Vials and glasses of oil hung on the hooks of one such stall, the glass vases blown into wide bowls swirling with colors of green and blue. Inside them, holy oils and ointments sloshed about, emanating sweet scents that colored the whole market. Ahk sighed deeply as he inhaled Egyptian musk.

A group of men leading camels bisected your tiny group, and you and Ahk met on the tail end of the moving caravan. He took your hand, leading you away from the center of the street, and to the sides that weren't quite as hectic.

While he hadn't been looking where exactly he was going, you found yourselves standing before a bakery, two ovens burning bright within brick encasings. A couple of women sat out front picking out the wheat from the stems, setting the buds into large clay bowls that were poured into a wheat grinder. The grinder churned the oddly-shaped stones against each other, creating a much softer flour that was made into dough, kneaded beneath the hands of even more workers. You stopped to stare for a moment as you had never seen a grinder before. To his surprise, he hadn't either.

"What is that?" You asked one of the women in Akkadian. She looked up to you, moving her thick, dark, curly hair out of her eyes.

"It is a wheat grinder," she said plainly, though there was no annoyance in her eye. "From Greece. They call it the Hourglass mill."

"Ah, thank you," you said with a small bow. She offered you a small smile before returning to her work. "Time glass mill," you told Ahk.

Stalls ahead depicted more women and men weaving blankets and tarps, or processing fresh-cut reeds from the Euphrates to mix into papyrus. Others had picked flax, which looked similar to reeds, but made a softer material––linen. Bags, tassels, and ropes hung from textile shops, some colored intricately and others a plain, dull white.

At this time Ahk glanced to the bags atop both your shoulders, and felt a tad embarrassed at the state of your belongings. Some of your clothes and blankets hung half out of the top, accompanied by belts and rope attached to the outer hooks, and potions that bulged awkwardly against the rough material. Still, he fit in better than he would've if he looked royal. No one looked like they had more to their name than a modest house.

The two of you stopped at a stall that had racks of cured meat hanging out underneath the shade of a thick, mud roof, filling the air with spices, fish, and antelope. A package of the sliced meat would last a good while, and didn't cost as much as fresh meat would have. Ahk decided to buy a package with a few copper rings.

While you were up on your tip-toes trying to shove the meat into Ahkmen's bag, Ahkmen caught something out of the corner of his eye, and jumped to attention.

"Yogi –"

"Sit still," you said, grunting as you punched the bag into place.

"Is it in yet?"

"Mm, I know your wife will say that," you said as you returned to walking down the road.

Ahkmen, left in a shocked stupor, had to manually close his mouth and chase after you to avoid losing track of you.

"I can't believe you'd say something like that," he said when he caught up to you.

"But I am right, you said, grinning as you poked him in the chest with a single finger.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he said. "But I do know there's beer over there."

You whirled around, asking, "where?"

"Come," Ahk said as he took your hand, guiding you through the rambunctious crowd and towards one of the established buildings housing the beer still brewing in giant vats.

Several steps lead down to a lowered floor, surrounded by walls that shielded the brewers from the streets' view. The brewers stood in perfect lines flanking either side of the entrance, each positioned in front of a large bowl, vat, or pot. At the top of the stairs, images of a goddess were painted vibrantly on the half-walls that lead down. Many of the gods of Babylon were taken from those of Sumer, and since Ahkmen had spent a good while studying the culture, he gave an educated guess that it depicted Ninkasi, the Goddess of beer.

You wandered down the steps without asking. Ahk didn't know if that was allowed, but no one seemed to stop you, and you did have a great familiarity with the process of beer-making. For a while you spoke animatedly with one of the women, who returned your enthusiasm happily. He watched on, a thoughtless smile on his face as he leant on the half-wall on the streetside, his cheek balanced on his hand.

"Fell in love with one of the women, ey?" Someone asked from behind him, followed by an irritating, ingenuous, and strenuously loud slurp through a straw. He turned slowly to face the stranger.

"Sort of," he admitted, leaning his back against the wall to face them.

The stranger had a large beer in his hand, and a reed straw through which he sucked the thick, viscous mixture that was the product of beer in southern Mesopotamia. His hair was long and braided, and though his beard wasn't as long as most men's, it was still there in thick scruff. He kept a short stature and sported long, red and black robes that fell down to his sandalled feet. Ahk glared, although he hadn't meant to.

"How did you know I speak Egyptian?" Ahk asked, crossing his arms.

"You look like an idiot, that's why," he chuckled as he scanned the hidden Prince. "Half-naked, all that."

In a sudden flush of embarrassment, Ahk's eyes darted to the crowd, and indeed found a decent amount of odd looks cast his way. He crossed his arms tighter over his bare chest.

"It's hot. And anyway, how do you speak Egyptian?" said Ahk.

"Oh, well I'm the King's son," the stranger said brightly. "I don't blame you for not knowing me. You don't look like you know the prince of your own nation, anyway." He chuckled smoothly.

Ahkmen blipped out of reality for a moment as he tried desperately to remember if his family had ever been visited by Babylonian royalty.

"His name is Ahkmen," he said in Sumerian. "And I'd prefer you didn't talk to me right now."

"Don't be bitter," the stranger said with a growing grin, as his words had been a perfect return of Sumerian banter.

Ahk seethed.

"Aganu!" You called his name, waving him eagerly over.

He didn't even bother to excuse himself from the Kassite prince nor say goodbye, simply leaving to join you.

"See you around, Egyptian!"

"That – that's not even an insult," Ahk said, throwing his hands up into the air as he debated following after him, only to be stopped by you tugging at his arm.

"Come, the beer here, you drink it fresh, and it is still warm," you said, easily earning his attention.

Similar to the beer of Egypt, the brews of Mesopotamia were sweet, and described often as fruity. The amount of actual alcohol was lower than your specialized drinks, but higher than the usual amount found in Egyptian. To Ahk, however, all that mattered was that it tasted good, and fuzzed out the harsher thoughts in his mind, relating to any number of things.

Many of the different breweries had separate recipes that weren't found at others, making it an all too frequent stop in your tour throughout this single section of the city, that must've made up no more than a section of a sector in the city of Babylon––a microcosm amongst the greater sprawling, stone landscape.

When the shadows began to grow long and stark against the ground, the two of you noted that the sun was lowering down to the city's outer walls, signifying the coming of dusk. By then you'd shared five beers, though you couldn't be called drunk just as much as you couldn't be called sober. It was also around that time that both of you realized you were quite hungry, and it was with great excitement that Ahkmen was reminded of a fact––he didn't have to catch food anymore, and you remembered you didn't have to cook it.

"We should get..." Ahk trailed off as he thought in depth.

"Bread," you said, earning a firm nod.

"Yes, and.. fruit, if they have it," he added.

"And we have the meat?"

"If it hasn't fallen out it's still in my bag," he said.

Loaves of bread, made mainly out of the cash crop barley, lined the display shelves set outside of one of the bakeries. They were made into various types and shapes, the most familiar of them being the cone sprinkled with sweet salt. But round pies were there as well, thin flatbreads, chunks of bread nearly forming a perfect square, and ones that popped out at the top like a fat mushroom.

Ahk allowed you to choose since you seemed so excited by the shapes––despite them not being any differently flavored––and you went with the fat mushroom. It didn't cost much at all, and soon you were both set off looking for sticky, dried dates. As much as you didn't want to be in Egypt anymore, you were certainly a child from the nation just as he was.

A woven, reed basket became the home of your food, stacked with everything you would need for the night––flasks of beer, two loaves of the soft, sweet bread, and handfuls of plums, dates, figs, and pears. It was a special sort of culture shock to go from the once-great cities torn down to ratty towns to Babylon, who survived the ravages of the current drought and violence by consistently switching sides to whomsoever conquered it. Not that Ahk was complaining––he was actually so enraptured in your excitement that he hardly remembered the difference, and was more interested in helping you search for a good place to eat. Somewhere further from the crowd, quieter, and with a good view.

Neat stairs and ramps led to a pool built nearby to the markets, filled with clear water and nude citizens who bathed and swam in its' white marble walls. The structure was built deep enough into the earth that the steps descending to it took on the shape of an amphitheater. From the uppermost layer, the one least inhabited, the two of you could watch the tiny people far below bathing and splashing in the water.

"I almost forgot about bathing," Ahk said halfway through a chunk of bread.

"What?" You turned to him with a small grin. "You bath all days in the river."

"Oh, river bathing is rather different from pool bathing," he said, recalling the bathing rooms in his private area of the palace in Egypt. How luxurious, and how distant, it seemed now––silken robes and aphrodisiac oils entirely removed from his identity.

"You want to go bathing?" You suggested.

He let out a long sigh before he said, "maybe later."

For the remainder of your slowly-eaten dinner––done so to truly appreciate what you hadn't had for what seemed like months––you watched the tiny people splashing and drowning each other in the pool. You cackled when someone slipped on the water's edge and fell in, soaking their clothes.

"You're so mean," Ahk chuckled, adoration pouring out of his smile.

"No," you said, "I am just fun."

The sun fully disappeared by the time you and Ahk were finishing up the last bits of your meal, for which you had saved two dates––one for each of you. Cleaning up to leave was easy considering you hadn't used anything in your bags, and soon you were back up on the more occupied streets, Sephys strutting beside you with her hairless, sagging skin. You had your thumbs hooked in loops around your bags' straps, eager eyes taking in as much information as they could.

There was something undeniably old about the city. The closer you got to the center, the older the stone was, battered by the elements of a harsh, unforgiving environment. Cuneiform written in ancient Sumerian stood in the last few remaining monuments from the time of Sumer and Ur, monoliths that Ahkmen spent the time to stop and read to you.

"What's ingenious about this language is that there's a controlled amount of characters due to the fact that they don't stand for ideas or determinatives like hieroglyphs, they go by phonetic sound," Ahk said, his mouth falling open as he craned his neck to stare at the sheer height of the monument.

"... right," you said flatly.

"Did you ever figure out how to read hieroglyphs?" He asked, turning to you only after he posited his question.

"No," you said with a sigh, shaking your head. "I never did try."

"I could teach you," he suggested.

You whipped to face him, your eyes wide.

"Only if you want to, of course," he added quietly.

"No – I mean, yes! I do want that," you said, a toothy grin spreading across you as you took his hands. "And the Sumerian."

"I can teach you cuneiform, or I can try," he said beneath his breath, "but I think it'd be wiser for you to learn the Akkadian form of the language."

"Why?"

"More useful, for the first thing," he said, earning a sad but knowing shrug.

"Okay, that is right," you said. "But you do not know Akkadian?"

"No I do not! But I can teach you how each symbol is pronounced, and – and I think we'll probably make some friends here in Babylon."

"Like the man at the beer place?"

"I did not consent to a conversation with him and I will never do so," he said straight out.

"Was he mean?" You laughed as the two of you continued on your way, soon to meet the next wall of the city.

"He's a Prince," Ahk said.

"Ew," you said, scrunching up your nose. He chuckled weakly.

Far in the distance, and far above you, a golden-capped building stood proud at the center of Babylon. Surrounded by other tall buildings, however, it was hard to see what exactly it was, and beside the gardens and monuments it seemed unimportant. As you grew closer, the clearer it got, until you found yourselves on a long, wide street leading straight up to the step layered pyramid. On either side of the street were homes, ranging anyway from mud brick huts to mansions that stretched far enough to owe their size a pool and private gardens.

"I've heard of this thing that some people do," Ahk said, the sight of palaces bringing back thoughts of Egypt, and of Panya and Unas, who tested a hypothesis Unas had. "They go up to the biggest, grandest home they can find, get inside, and pretend they're a servant. No one asks any questions and you get a place to stay and things to eat."

"Hmm..." you thought for a moment, "that is sounding more fun than the tavern."

"It does, doesn't it?" Ahk said with a smirk, a mischievous chuckle building in his quick-beating chest.

You continued to wander slowly up the street, scanning the homes and shops carefully as you passed by. Torches, candles, and fireplaces burned bright in bakeries and metalworker's shops, but homes soon went quiet in the night, many of the people flocking to their roofs. From above, the scant light of the city dissipated entirely, allowing the stars to beam as they did in the middle of the desert.

Blankets with soft tassels or mats of reed were set out on the roofs, often dangling over the side of the homes, where you and Ahk could try to jump up and bat them. You, of course, never touched them, but Ahkmen spared you the embarrassment of shoving it in your face. Instead he just laughed and ruffled your hair.

It was now, when the tall buildings and walls faded away and the ziggurat was exposed, that you finally realized it was standing there at all. In the dark of the night, it was hard to see the lapis colors on the midnight blue sky.

"I think that is the big house," you said softly, your pace slowing.

"That's a temple. Remember what happened last time we tried to get into a temple?"

You frowned.

"Okay, you do the house then," you grumbled.

He payed a little closer attention for the following minutes, till he spotted a large home surrounded by a garden estate, walled away from the street by tall, olive-green trees.

"How about here?" He said, gesturing to the house with his thumb. Your brow raised high when you saw it.

"Yes," you said emphatically, earning a blushing giggle from Ahkmen.

"Let's go," he said, motioning you along in a way that had both of you bursting into stifled laughter.

"Okay, you shut up," you said as you moved past him to enter the estate.

"Yes, dear," he replied in an exaggerated, sad voice, bringing you back into giggles, sneaking into a noble's home.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 269: LAID HIM OUT LIKE A BROCHURE

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor, Mic, and Aizawa finally caught up with Crust and Miruko after 19 years to help deal with the High End Noumus. Aizawa used his quirk on them, but Girl Noumu was able to get away and shoot acid at them all, and that one bone-tentacle-y Noumu was also able to attack Mirko with his quirk. Speaking of Mirko, she spent most of the chapter kicking away at Tomura’s Noumutank like those guys with the battering ram in Beauty and the Beast. Or maybe just kicking it one time very, very slowly while we cut back and forth from the scene. It was hard to tell. But either way, she didn’t quite manage to shatter it and instead just left it all cracked and leaking. Anyway so everyone keeps saying that if Tomura escapes that would be Very Bad, and I’m inclined to agree, especially since Aizawa and Mic are looking all serious and vengeful, and I’m really going to need them to not die, ever.

Today on BnHA: Endeavor helpfully and terrifyingly cauterizes Mirko’s wounds while Aizawa holds off the Noumu with his quirk and buys time for Mic to go after Ujiko and Tomura. Mic and our new optician friend Exress race down the corridor and Mic immediately uses his quirk to shatter Noumuraki’s tank, which is the fastest and most efficient action we have seen in this entire arc so far. Mic then CORDIALLY INTRODUCES UJIKO’S FACE TO HIS FIST, which caused me to have an awakening, but unfortunately the same can’t be said for Tomura, who’s now lying on the ground very much not awake and seemingly dead. So I guess that’s it, guys. Looks like Dabi is the main villain now. Good for you Dabi, those are some pretty big britches to fill. No that wasn’t a crack about your height. God you’re sensitive. And so now we get to wait another two weeks! You know what, let’s just focus on the part where Ujiko got flattened like a paper bag.

so this is the chapter that was originally scheduled to be released on Kacchan’s birthday, but what are the odds he’s not even in it. how do you all think the traffic light trio is doing. this has been the world’s longest evacuation. or do you think they already finished a long time ago and are just hanging out now and being all “can’t wait to hear back from everyone else, I’m sure they’re all fine and dandy.” which would be funny, you see, because everyone else actually isn’t fine and dandy at all! do you get it. ahaha jokes

anyway so this chapter is titled “the three of us”, so I’m guessing there’s more Aizawa/Mic/Shirakumo angst on the horizon! so you’re just going to keep on assaulting my battered heart then, Horikoshi. cool. coolcoolcoolcoolcool

HEY NOW

HORIKOSHI WE TALKED ABOUT THIS. I WILL LAUNCH YOU INTO SPACE

fffff -- okay well whatever!! it’s a manga!! she’ll be fine! they have manga science! Recovery Girl can heal her legs and her side and everything else, and get her a nice new robot arm, and she’ll have a cool scar on her ear. happy thoughts happy thoughts

FFDFSF

IS HE TALKING TO ME OR HER. I FEEL LIKE HE’S TALKING TO ME. don’t worry Endeavor I will look away for this part

lol excuse me what now

5 minutes?? by whose reckoning, exactly?? jesus christ. I bet if he turned his flames off we’d learn that he has grown a whole new actual beard. Endeavor. civilizations have risen and fallen. okay you know what, new theory, Ujiko’s basement lair is somehow running on Narnia time

OH MY FEELS HE SAYS HE OWES HER A DEBT AFTER KYUSHU. referring of course to when she showed up out of the blue to save his ass from Dabi. anyways though how nice of him to express his gratitude by setting all of her wounds on fire

I guess we can stand down from red alert now though since Mirko is clearly going to be just fine

somehow she has more calm while getting her horrific injuries cauterized than I do when trying to decide whether or not to sell electronic turnips in a video game

wuh oh

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT HE’S A BARREL OF LAUGHS. actually no that’s a lie, you definitely would have had and did have more fun while fighting Mirko

also, this angle of Endeavor’s face, though

AWAKE! AVAST!! HOLD TIGHT YOUR BUNS! IF BUNS YOU DO HOLD DEAR

god damn it as per usual I have no idea what is going on in action panels even when I stare at them intensely for a full minute or more

I don’t even remember how many Noumus are left at this point now. who’s that sunfish-looking one on the right near Mic?? is he a new one?? is that Crust jumping around in the middle, or is he the one standing near the sunfish Noumu? who is it that’s firing that laser or whatnot in the middle?? did this big Noumu in the foreground on the left just get decapitated??

honestly it seems like they almost have things under control at long last. Aizawa and Mic should just head after Ujiko is already and leave the rest of them to it

so Mirko is now giving them all the details about Tomura and how he’s currently chilling out floating in his sensory deprivation tank

and she’s all DON’T LET SHIGARAKI WAKE UP as if she wasn’t the one trying to smash the capsule open in the previous chapter?? or did she assume he would just sleep through all that lol

also the High Ends have apparently still not completely woken up themselves yet. guess we should be grateful

WELL HELLO

if Aizawa Shouta ever cuts his hair I will declare a national day of mourning

anyways though, reinforcements! about fucking time

did anyone else immediately blink right after reading that last sentence, and then feel a profound gratitude for being able to blink freely at will. holy shit. blinking is so great

what happens if he has to sneeze?? oh my god. and what the fuck why is this a one-man show anyway, where the hell is your husband

okay there he is

“I’m here, too,” says Vision Hero: Exress. and so he is. so what kind of quirk do you have, then, x-ray vision? really hope not, no offense. just don’t see how that would exactly be useful right now. or maybe it’s laser vision, in which case yeah okay we can work with that. you heard the man, go on ahead then

this motherfucker is still alive?!

I really cannot express enough just how steep of a cliff Endeavor has fallen off of in this arc. he has not done a single useful thing aside from the cauterizing. so now it’s up to Eyeballs Hero: Sees Real Good to hopefully somehow oneshot this guy whom the number one hero barely managed to scratch

OH MY GOD AN ACTUAL PLOT TWIST

CRUST ACTUALLY DID SOMETHING. took me a minute to realize he was shouting “go” in that speech bubble, as opposed to randomly screeching out his age, 60

Mic and Aizawa are so hot but I’m feeling such impending doom right now

-- oh no. oh fuck. I just realized -- why are they splitting them up?? sir that’s his emotional support hero

ffff for reals though I feel like Mic doesn’t have the same plot protection as Shouta. and I also feel like this is a very stupid decision in general, and that the guy who can cancel out quirks should be included in the group of people rushing in to capture the scary big bad whose quirk is an insta-kill. but what do I know, I’m just a regular person who didn’t go to hero school and get their hero MBA so MAYBE I’M WRONG. but am I

oh shit oh shit oh shit

not really clear on what Mic is doing here since he should in theory just be running like a normal person, but I can’t complain much about the dynamic pose. and meanwhile Ujiko has finally snapped to the fact that he should have woken Tomura up a good half hour ago!

and on top of all that, it sounds like they didn’t destroy all of their supervillain research data either, so if he does manage to escape we could be right back to square one before long. good thing they definitely positively won’t let him escape!!

OH MY GOD THIS SHIT IS FINALLY HAPPENING AHHHHHH

MIC’S VOICE IS SO POWERFUL IT INSTANTLY SHATTERED THE GLASS WHICH EVEN MIRKO’S NOUMU-DECAPITATING RABBIT LEGS COULD NOT BREAK, OH MY BISCUITS, WE STAN AN ICON AND A LEGEND

DID HE MANAGE TO STOP HIM BEFORE HE ACTIVATED THE WAKEUP SEQUENCE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK? IF YES WHAT IS EVEN GOING TO HAPPEN NOW, WILL TOMURA JUST CURL UP IN A LITTLE BALL AND CONTINUE TO SLUMBER PEACEFULLY WITH HIS HAIR ALL WET. HE’LL CATCH A COLD

BUT FOR REAL THOUGH OBVIOUSLY HE IS GOING TO WAKE UP AHHHHHHHH

nghhh everything’s shattering all dramatically and in slow motion

swear to god if this chapter ends with Tomura opening his eyes while we cut to another two week break, I will... ... ...well I guess I’m about to find out though because that’s exactly what’s going to happen isn’t it

(ETA: if you can sleep through Present Mic’s attack you can really sleep through anything huh.)

lol but first

sploosh. down he goes. timber. still a sleepy boi. I take a nap right here

LORD, MIC IS ABOUT TO RIP UJIKO A NEW ONE AND I’VE NEVER FELT SO ALIVE?!

CUE HORIKOSHI CUTTING TO SOME MORE FLASHBACKS OF OBORO TO MAKE US ALL SAD. THAT’S RIGHT, I KNOW ALL OF YOUR TRICKS! BRING IT

1) the fuck is he doing, 2) is this the first time we’ve seen Aizawa call Mic by his name??, and 3) WHAT DID I TELL YOU THOUGH

MY HEART IS A STONE! I FEEL NOTHING! YOU CAN’T HURT ME SO GIVE IT UP. please give it up sob

OH NO

UNDONE BY AIZAWA’S SOFT EXPRESSION AND WISTFUL EYES NOOOO I lied I am not a stone at all I am a big squishy marshmallow of feels oh fuck

OH WOW

DON’T EVER LOOK BACK. ON THE WORLD CLOSING IN!! BE ON THE ATTACK. WITH YOUR WIIIIINGS ON THE WIIIND

he straight up ENDED HIS LIFE. holy shit. 4/24/2020. the day I was sexually attracted to Present Mic

anyways now back to your regularly scheduled sad feelings at the reminder of the fact that yep, Ujiko and all of his fucked up experimenting absolutely did make Aizawa cry. not that I’m saying that’s a crime of even greater magnitude than all his other crimes of kidnapping and torture and research using human children. I absolutely am not saying that. just implying it. in a joking manner. semi-joking. partially. kind of

(ETA: also, belated shout out to the fact that his excuse for doing it was so he could verify that it wasn’t another clone. and since it’s Present Mic, there’s a 74% chance he screamed out “CLONE CHECK!” in English too, which, bless.)

I know there’s a particular side of fandom that largely thinks that all heroes are Garbage Scum, but I mean, look at this scene though of Gazerbeam crouching down to gingerly check Tomura’s vitals. idk, I thought this was surprisingly gentle

I should probably be more concerned about that statement, but truth be told, I’m much more anxious about Gazerbeam going the way of his namesake shortly henceforth. please be careful please I know he looks all floppy and wounded and surprisingly vulnerable --

-- okay, very surprisingly vulnerable --

I really do have a thing for the hair covering the eyes huh. I’m learning things about myself!

but still! he could basically just blink at you at this point and you would turn to dust, Gazerbeam. DUST. ASHES. DEBRIS SCATTERED TO THE WINDS

wow apparently that space tube was doing a lot more than I thought

mhmm. sure. Horikoshi. dude, I can see you sitting there shaking with barely suppressed laughter. did you really think this would get us to let our guards down. are we a joke to you. did you think we would just be all “oh gosh I guess he really is dead then, wow, what a twist”

oh!! the reinforcements!!

did you hear that guys. it’s done. the heroes won and Tomura is dead and it’s really over just like that. what a positive ending for everyone. except Tomura I guess

I’ve said before that U.A. needs to add a course about tempting fate to their curriculum, and I stand by that. this is absurd. it’s like y’all want to die

oh look at that Endeavor finally killed one

was that really so hard. could you not have done that earlier

-- GODDAMN IT ARE YOU REALLY DOING THIS AGAIN

“what if... I dragged it out so much that the dragging-out was the cliffhanger?” that’s some galaxy brain you got there dude. let’s just end the chapter on that WHY NOT

anyway. so there you have it guys. just look how dead he is. that’s the smile of someone who is absolutely, certainly, one hundred percent dead. look at him, all at peace. definitely not gonna finally wake up two weeks from now and properly introduce himself to our new friend Gazerbeam and my new we’re-just-trying-something-out-and-taking-it-slow-and-we’ll-see-where-it-goes boyfriend Present Mic!

lol I can’t lie, these last couple chapters have tested my patience a bit! fortunately this chapter had many saving graces in the form of Mirko, Aizawa, Mic, and for reals though Gazerbeam whom I genuinely did grow attached to almost immediately for reasons beyond my grasping. but I’m starting to get an inkling that Horikoshi is just incapable of pacing himself well whenever the story moves to a basement. or maybe I’m just cranky on account of being holed up in lockdown since time immemorial and only getting my new BnHA fix every other week! maybe, that could be it. maybe. ah well. at least Present Mic punched Ujiko in the fucking face