#It's hard to come by though so it's not often they can spare it for more crafty luxury things like plushes

[whimsicalcotton]

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long. 

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle. 

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room. 

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine. 

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake. 

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume. 

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for. 

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other. 

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier. 

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?” 

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[mauswyx]

soft-spoken s/o

TLDR: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, Jennifer Check, and Bo Sinclair's reactions to having a fairly quiet s/o WORD COUNT: 1k CW: none, fluff AO3

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Thomas Hewitt

ironically would not be used to the silence at first; he’s used to chatters and screaming! He’s never met someone who speaks so quietly 

will lean towards you when you speak, listening intensely 

finds your silence comforting after the initial shock and enjoys your quiet presence as he goes about his business

quickly adapts to communicating with you via body language and facial expressions, etc; it is a method he’s familiar with after all

takes great pride that he’s the only one that can read your mind or decipher your mumbling

He couldn’t help but spare you a glance every so often as you sat at the opposite end of the barn as he worked. You were mending a shirt Luda Mae scavenged from some luggage…or at least trying to. Your bottom lip was swollen from being gnawed on and your brow was furrowed–the needlework must be tedious, he concluded. He turned his attention back to his work, a few minutes passed before he decided to glance up again only to find that you were muttering to yourself, trying to rethread the string through the eye.

Despite finding your frustration amusing, he couldn’t take your suffering anymore. He strode over to you, gently enveloping your hand in his before plucking the needle away. He made quick work of the thread, giving you a knowing look as he set back to work, but not before hearing a quiet “Thank you Tommy.” 

Brahms Heelshire

does not enjoy that he can’t coax loud reactions from you; he works so hard to mess with you and you don’t say anything?! How rude!

will switch gears and will purposefully pretend not to know what you’re gesturing to or that he can’t hear you to annoy you; he can play by your game but he won’t play fair

he’s been (watching) studying you through the walls so it’s quite easy for him to pick up on your body language to know what you’re feeling or wanting of him 

actually likes your voice and will do everything in his power to get you to use it; even if it means getting a scolding 

bedtime is his favorite part of the day because he gets to listen to you read; will pick out exceptionally long books to listen to you just a while longer 

Echoes etched the room as you tapped your foot against the dusty rug. He had been in a mood all afternoon: being especially disobedient and ignoring your calls from within the walls. He was being so difficult that you had no choice but to search for him, though it proved to be in vain as you couldn’t find him anywhere. A worried knot began to form in your stomach. There was only one thing you could do. With a deep inhale you rolled your head on your shoulders before letting out a shout.

“Brahms!” Your voice was hoarse–not used to being at such a volume, rolling your eyes in frustration “Please come out!” The scraping of wood met your ears shortly before his long arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You bit the interior of your cheek as you could hear the smugness in his voice, having won his game.

“There’s no need to shout.”

Jennifer Check

“they said no pickles.” embodiment 

at first, mistakes your quietness for being flustered by her and she amps up her prowess only to realize you’re like this…all the time…with everyone 

will speak for you whether it’s ordering your food or answering a question on your behalf; is actually exceptionally good at knowing what you want without much effort 

actually doesn’t mind the silence when you don’t feel like talking—grateful that you two can just share a moment together or that she can have someone to rant to

will not make a big deal if you feel talkative, she’ll casually continue the conversation in hopes it’ll make you feel more comfortable

“-and who does that? It’s bullshit!” she scoffed, gently scraping the tips of her long nails on the back of your hand as she laid next to you. You silently nodded in agreement, staring up at her face: her nose was scrunched and her eyes were glazed over, lost in thought–before suddenly snapping down to stare into your own. “I mean, you don’t think I’m in the wrong do you?” 

You couldn’t help letting your lip curl up at her pout, she had definitely been the cause of the altercation but you’d never tell her that; instead, you opted to halfheartedly shake your head. As expected, your poor acting didn’t go unnoticed and her eyes widened before playfully swatting her hand at your stomach.

“No way! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Bo Sinclair

“huh” x5

cannot understand what you’re saying for the life of him and gets annoyed very easily; more so at his own inability to comprehend you when everyone else seems to understand you just fine

interrupts you when you’re speaking, trying to guess what you’re saying instead of just listening 

puts on a big show to do as you asked when he does finally pick up on what you’re saying 

often wrongly infers what you’re saying but at least he’s trying

“Darlin’…'' he groaned, running a hand down his face “-you’re gunna needa work with me…” You huffed out a breath of air, already annoyed at having had to already repeat yourself twice and repeating yourself a third time honestly wasn’t even worth it; you just wanted the step-ladder to reach something in top-stock, but at this point you’d rather just climb the shelves themselves than have to be stuck in this never ending game of charades. You were half-tempted to do just that, but the look on Bo’s face made you relent; he had been so patient the least you could do was not give up on him.

“I need the ladder…” you said again, this time trying to enunciate your words as best as possible and to your surprise his face lit up. Not a great sign. 

“Bladder?” he repeated, not waiting for a response as he sped towards the shop counter, “Don’t worry baby! I’ll get the restroom key!”

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 shelter from storms.

— how is life when you're living with the stellaron hunters.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: sunday is a stellaron hunter just trust me, these can be taken as romantic or platonic except for silver wolf, hers is purely platonic. once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners.

𐙚 KAFKA

one day brought a record player back to headquarters after a mission. she happily skipped over to you to inquire about the spare room that hasn’t been used in years. and that’s how you got roped into decorating the said room with kafka, making it her pseudo music room whenever it's her day off. 

she even convinced you to pick up the violin and practice with her. it was hard at first - you had no past experience with playing an instrument - but kafka was patient, taking her time to teach you how to properly hold the violin, how to press on the strings correctly so it doesn’t sound strained when you glide the bow over it. more often than not, you’d call it quits after an hour and a half and simply just listen to kafka play. these were the times where she became more expressive so you cherished it.

after practice she would tell you about the local music from the planet she went to for her mission. retelling in great detail how the musician played the piece, how the crowd gathered and clapped once the person finished. you can’t help but let the growing smile on your face show. kafka doesn’t show that much emotion - a big consequence of being an emanator of the nihility - but you knew deep down that kafka was kind a person, even if the universe said otherwise.

𐙚 BLADE

is the type of person that would eat whatever you offer him without question. you were quite shocked when it first happened – you had dragged him to one of the stalls on the luofu to eat a snack and when you offered him a bite, he took it. you stood frozen in your spot as blade chewed his food, muttering a soft praise for how it was cooked and started to drag you away from the stall. a certain head of white had slowly started to approach the two of you.

when silver wolf and firefly found out, they were certainly amused, the former more so than the latter. and since then, whenever you and silver wolf would practice cooking when kafka wasn’t around, you would drag blade into the kitchen and spoon feed him the food you made. you found it endearing when his voice would grow soft whenever firefly or silver wolf offered him a spoonful of food and he’d take it without hesitation. giving constructive criticism and even assisting the three of you whenever he’s feeling nice.

though you’ve learned how not to push his buttons too much. after silver wolf accidentally (it was on purpose) put sugar instead of salt in his food, you had to pull the man back by the arm so he didn’t kill the poor girl. 

𐙚 SILVER WOLF

kafka laughed under her breath as blade groaned. there you two go again, stopping your actions whenever you pass each other in the halls just to stare, then laugh, and proceed as if nothing had happened. you don’t remember when this started or how it even came to be, it just became a silly little greeting between the two of you that made blade think the two of you were insane. but then again, who wasn’t insane in this organization?

when silver wolf first became a hunter she was quite the pissy baby, sam often left her in your care, maybe that's why you always sought out each other’s presence when it's your day offs. kafka joked how the two of you must be siblings separated by birth and that led to her dragging you into her room, a whiteboard behind her and a marker perched on her ear, trying to explain how you two were actually siblings. 

she’s grown quite attached to you, always the first one to greet you when you come back from a mission and drag you to her room so you can play video games together. time spent with each other is always fun and full of laughter, you can’t help but wish time would move slower so you could spend more time with her. when kafka comes to drag you out of her room because it was 3 am and you’ve lost track of time, you can’t help but miss the girl’s laughter as you yet again, lost your combo on one of her favorite rhythm games.

𐙚 FIREFLY

ever since you joined the stellaron hunters, sam and elio have given you full reign in being their mechanic/inventor. it was a great honor and you took pleasure whenever the hunters trusted your inventions and used them in battle. the biggest downside would probably be is being in charge of cleaning sam’s armor when missions get too rough. before you, kafka would always be the one in charge of this but after your arrival, firefly seems to only want you to clean it, especially when silver wolf tried to doodle on sam’s WHITE ARMOR with pastel markers. 

your station was always filled with easygoing chatter between you and firefly. she would tell you about how her mission went, what happened, what needed to be fixed and if there were any adjustments needed to be made. you always listened with keen eagerness, pausing every once in a while at wiping off the grime and dirt on sam and writing something on the clipboard that’s always on your desk.

aeons bless this girl’s heart because she was a total sweetheart. most of the time you never get the chance to keep up with the trends among the cosmos so she took it upon herself to always keep you updated. even when she was on missions, she never fails to send you a text on the new trending fashion, makeup, and even food. speaking of makeup, you should start wrapping that set you managed to snag online. it was a thank you gift for firefly for always keeping you updated.

𐙚 SUNDAY

hesitation, regret, but quiet determination. that was your first impression of sunday when kafka entered your station with him in tow. a pair of mechanical wings to replace his broken one, kafka said before abruptly leaving. he was hesitant to let you near his wings but eventually caved after lots and lots of reassurances that it would be quick. when you finished, you kept a close eye on him whenever he practiced taking flight with it, always remembering to keep a good distance so you don’t invade his comfort zone.

wincing when sunday stumbled for the seventh time today. sweat dripping from his forehead to chin as he tried and tried again, trying to take flight again after years of chaining himself to the ground. it was painful to watch, but you can’t help but feel proud of his determination to make it work. a smile crept up to your face as you scribbled something down on your clipboard when he nearly made it. you made a mental note to reshape the wings a bit and use a different type of material so it didn’t weigh him down too much.

sunday may not show it, but he knows you’re watching from afar, he's happy you keep him company in his trying times, it makes his failures in taking flight a little more bearable. he couldn’t help but feel thankful to his hereditary genes of being able to sense the emotions of others, he just wished you could do the same. you have no idea how grateful he is that you’re taking so much of his comfort and needs into account when creating his wings. he could only offer you a small smile when he knocks at your door to announce dinner. sunday swore to take you to penacony one day when kafka mentioned you’ve always wanted to travel there.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[eldritch-spouse]

Going to be thirsty here for a moment-. But rereading Breg's fics made me wonder how he would be if Roomie started training herself to be able to take both of his dicks in one hole. Just to let him inside and hammer away. Like, please, sir, break me. 🤲🥺

[Love when people come here like "I hope I'm not being too thirsty". Fem reader. Ignoring anatomy for this because hhhnn-]

TW: Double penetration; Slight dubcon moment.

" Listen to me Breg. "

You start, and even if you're currently beneath the breeder on the bed, you still sound like a drill sergeant. Mostly because you have to, Breg's not to be trusted when he's excited.

" I've been working up to this for a long while- "

" I know! " He interrupts, the bottom of his face still covered in drool and slick when he dove between your legs after you were done with the stretching exercises.

Breg hates that you had to use toys to size yourself up for this, but the promise that you were doing it so you could welcome both of his members made him slightly more tolerant of it. Didn't change the fact that the breeder would often sit and watch, whining in jealousy of whatever you were stuffing yourself with.

" I'll be really careful! I'll be nice- I promise angel! "

His babbling is a waste of slaver, the monster isn't even looking at you, eyeless gaze perched entirely on the sight of your inviting pussy and the way both of his cocks frame it. The breeder looks like he's thrilling himself with the show, making a horny little noise of appreciation and biting at his lower lip. It's as if he's already envisioning himself deep inside you, not having to squeeze one of his cocks between you two. It's been a fantasy of his for a long time, even you have to admit that it's... Exciting to think about.

Now though, you need Breg to focus, so you grab the sides of his head and bring it closer to yours. " I mean it, listen to me. "

His happiness is infectious, you have to turn away to hide the smile tugging at your lips when Breg simply dips to place kisses all over your face, hearing that long tail sway and swat around.

" Breg! " Mercifully, he stops. " You have to pay attention to what you're doing when you start okay? If we do this wrong, it could hurt me a lot. "

" Yes. " He rushes. " Yes, okay. "

"Good. " With a pant, you spread your legs just a tad further, figuring you couldn't possibly be in a more comfortable positions for this, especially with the support pillows helping to angle you. " Now straighten up a bit, I need to see what I'm doing. "

When the breeder does, you note the way his breathing is already sped up, how feverish he's already become. It's impressive how Breg always manages to make you feel so hot, even when you think you look like a fresh mess. Gently, you reach down to grab both of his dicks, keeping them together as much as you can, and he helps the process by scooting forward to line up against your pussy.

Feeling both tips park there is enough to get you to blow a tense exhale, knowing it's going to be a stretch and a half. In sharp contrast, Breg moans like he's in heat, looking as if his self-control is hanging by a very thin thread currently peeling itself apart.

Some hesitant seconds pass.

" Please angel- Please! I want this so bad. It's going to feel so good, let me fuck you, please! " White claws rub at your thighs comfortingly while he pleads, tail thumping impatiently on the mattress behind him. And curse him, because the breeder's shameless imploring always rises a fire in you that's hard to put out.

" I- I want you to push slowly, okay? " You caution, hold still firm on him, your spare arm clutching the sheets.

" Uhuh! "

True to his word, Breg is careful, torturously edging his cocks forward. The lube helps immeasurably, and pretty soon, both heads pop inside, making you hiss and gasp, immediately clenching at the intrusion. Massive. Fucking massive, holy shit. A wave of warmth courses through you as a pleasant shiver moments later.

" Hhn- Ohh... " He's drooling. Like actually drooling on you. " Hahh. " You can tell by the visible flexing of his legs that the only thing Breg wants to do is buck and hammer the rest of himself in, but with an almost pained grunt, he just sits there statically so the two of you can catch your breaths.

" Good- Very good. " You praise his surprising discipline. " Just keep going like that. "

He makes what you think was an affirmative "Mmn" noise and lolls his tongue out when the next couple of inches are softly rolled into you. It's insanely filling on its own, your thighs squirm and you're not sure if you want to edge away from this or even closer. Breg's instincts kick in and he holds your hips down sternly, slowly sinking more of himself in and making deep, pleased moans that wash against you like waves.

" Ngh- Deep- Slow down, give me a second. " It's stealing the breath out of you.

It takes a couple of moments before Breg's brain registers the command, but he eventually pauses with half of his cocks buried in you. He physically has to tear his gaze off the sight of you stretched around him, chest heaving as he curves to blanket you.

" You're so tight, fffuck you always are but this- " He sighs shakily over your ear, and instead of calming down enough to relax, you only tense and squeeze around him harder, making the breeder growl and whine. " Mmnph-! If you keep doing that I won't hold it, angel. Please, can I put the rest in, please? "

One of these days his begging is going to burst a blood vessel of yours. Or maybe it's the way you feel so bloated already.

" O- Okay, but then you need to let me catch up, okay? "

" Mmmf- " You think he growled there for a second. " Yes! Thank you! "

You expected him to push in slowly the same way he did up until now, though you should frankly know better by now... Breg pulls away in a preparatory motion that should have given it all away, then slams home with a force you have no words to describe.

Your stomach bounces and your lungs knock into your throat, eyeballs jostled in their sockets from the strength of his wild horse piston into your cunt. The disgraceful wet noise that echoed in your bedroom doesn't help in keeping yourself grounded. Although you didn't have enough air in your body to do much more than choke and convulse at the intrusion, the breeder makes more than enough noise for the two of you, howling in delight at the way your poor walls all but crush him in an attempt to adapt to the brute size just forced into them. You can feel him perfectly hilted into you, cockheads kissing as deep into you as they possibly can. It's an indescribable fullness that has the two of you stunted.

" Oh gods fffuck- Hahhn I'm all in. " He mumbles amidst desperate noises. " Mmn feels so good so good- I knew it'd be perfect- Love you angel. "

Both lengths throb inside you. You couldn't respond even if you wanted to.

Although you can very well sense Breg trying to rock against you minutely, he keeps his promise, studying your overwhelmed features and giving you time to welcome him properly. There's some pain, you won't lie, but it's slowly ebbing into something forgettable. The pale monster's sweet cooing and trilling help steady you as he licks your throat and lets his teeth deform slightly to place a loving bite on your shoulder.

Eventually, the breeder shifts and looks down at where the two of you are joined, finding imprints of his lengths in you. His grin is so wide and self-satisfied it looks borderline manic. A large hand comes to palp at the bump in your lower abdomen, but the sensation causes your legs to twitch and you bat his arm away.

Breg whines, a trail of drool slipping down his chin to drip onto your skin. " Can- Can I start? "

Your eyes widen a little, though you nod and take a deep breath. " G-Gentle. "

And that's all it takes.

The monster admittedly has a bit of trouble moving at first, the drag of his cocks inside you bordering on painful until fireworks start firing in your brain from all the spots he has no choice but to stimulate with every minuscule motion. The first moan you let out, throaty and helpless, makes him shiver. Wetness gradually builds, helping along with what's left of the lube, and pretty soon Breg's huffing with every thrust, making noises that almost concern you and visibly sweating. You know he's doing his best to behave right now, and you appreciate it, because both at once is... An experience.

" Ah- Ghn so full- " You choke when he fills you out again, causing the breeder to wag his tail slightly and respond with shorter, faster bursts of movement.

" Does it feel good? " He pants.

" Y- Yeah. " Putting it lightly. Your breath hitches and you cling to his arms for support, unable to help the fluttering of your pussy as you get used to this brand new size.

" Angel... " He begins, in a tone you already know means he's going to ask for something. " Hhn- I know you said gentle but... "

He bucks his hips suddenly, the two of you crying out together, pleasure and shock.

" Breg! "

" B- But I know you like it rough! " He stresses. " You clamp around me so hard, it's so hot- " Your face burns. " Come on... Just this time? "

It's not going to be "just this time", obviously.

When you don't say anything, the breeder hums and drapes over you again, legs readjusting so he can plunge somehow even deeper into you now. And with no hesitation, Breg starts well and truly railing into you.

" AH! HN- Breg?! "

You have to hold onto his neck and back, each desperate slam of his thighs on yours digging his softly barbed cocks so far up into your hole he jostles you forward. But you can't deny that it's making your eyes glaze in rabid animal pleasure, mouth opening and hips grinding back onto him as much as they can, the sloppy noise of his every slam filling you with a gross sense of glee.

You don't like to admit it, but you love being under Breg. It makes you feel small in a very arousing way, trapped under his strength, his smell, hearing how fast he breathes for you, how much his body strains to breed you stupid even if the effort is always pointless in the end. You like that he's always just as enthusiastic, that he always fucks you like it's the last time he's going to get to do it.

" S- See? " He groans, looking down at your flushed, probably disheveled face. " I know you like it- I can smell it. " And just to accentuate the point, there's a snort-like sniff when he dips his head into the crook of your neck, rising goosebumps everywhere. " Gghn- I'm- I'm not going to last too long... "

That startles you a little. Breg's always had surprising stamina. Sure, the first time he penetrated you was a bit short, but he had never been with a human before. Still, this puts an incredulous smile on your face. " R- Really? "

" Yeah- " His words melt into slurred moans, previously speedy motions now interspersed by hard grinds that have your eyes rolling slightly. " 'M sorry, you're so good- Sorry. "

" It's- It's fine. " It's hotter than it should be.

" My mate is so perfect- " He growls in-between sharp, jutting thrusts. " So nice to me- " The whimper on the edge of his voice is more than a good tell of how close he is. " I'm so lucky I get to ahhn- Put both in! "

Even if he doesn't recognize it, Breg has a penchant for this very specific type of dirty talk that makes your brain pop and crackle in a hormone-fueled static, and before you can even beg him to fill you with cum, he fucks into your stretched cunt with three dizzying pistons before flexing and coming so hard you can feel it shoot into crevices you didn't even know you had.

It's too much for such a small space, coating both you and him before it has no choice but to squeeze out of you in depraved spurts. Even if you wanted to hear Breg's rattle of ecstasy, you were too lost in your own orgasm to do so, making something akin to a desperate, sobbing mewl at the overload of sensations.

When you can focus minimally, the breeder is planting amorous kisses everywhere on your upper body, still buried hot and wet inside you. His whole face is flushed blue and he's never looked giddier, shuddering as another glob of seed escapes around his still hard cocks.

" Thank you so much, angel. I loved it! "

Oh, you can tell. " ... Don't mention it. "

Breg chirps. " Tell me when you're ready to go again. "

Why are you even surprised...

[dduane]

From the Ditching Adobe ASAP dep't, a recommendation: Crazybump

People who've listened often enough to my rantings about digital art tools will know that I've been a Corel user for a couple of decades now —maybe even a few?—and that I've routinely only used Adobe PS (in one manifestation or another) when it's unavoidable—meaning, when it has a tool the effects of which I can't duplicate in some other way without spending a ton of time trying.

I've always loathed PS's bloat and (seemingly unnecessary) complications. Now, though, with the most recent distasteful corporate shenanigans and the unwelcome encroachment of AI, I've been moving to find ways to get rid of it entirely. This has required taking a good hard look at what I actually use it for, and actively seeking out ways to do those things using other tools.

Here's one I like which I've now worked with often enough to safely recommend it to other people.

One of the main things I was using PS for was the creation of bump maps and normal maps to overlay digital objects I was going to be rendering. Adobe has now mostly moved that function, along with most of its 3D tools, into other apps (for which they naturally expect you to spend even more money...). So I can no longer do this job in PS—possibly something to do with my video card (which PS insists is not set correctly, though it always was before...), possibly not.

So, my hand having been forced on this issue before Adobe started to get really loathesome, I went looking for a different tool that would do this job: and after some digging around, I found it. Let me introduce you to Crazybump.

This standalone program runs happily under Windows 10 and Windows 11, and there's a public beta for the Mac. It has the same kind of straightforward ease of use that you get from, say, EZGif, and what it does, it does really well. Better, I'm pretty sure, than Adobe PS does/did.

It is seriously configurable in terms of the quality of normal maps that it turns out. (Look at the top screenshot: the sliders will indicate what I mean.) It will cheerfully create all the major map types—normals, displacement, occlusion, specularity, and diffuse—with one click; and the created maps come out clearly and logically labeled in the filenames. You can also do extremely useful things like combine already existing normal maps—and if you've ever tried to square that particular circle by hand, you'll welcome this feature like a long-lost friend.

Anyway, if you do work that calls for these filetypes, I highly recommend Crazybump. I'm running on an evaluation version right now, but intend to license it as soon as I've got a little cash to spare.

More than this, deponent saith not. :)

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Cursed Experiment

Sukuna x F! Reader ... 18+

Summary: A need to do something of use pushed her on the path of research, a path that lead to Ryomen Sukuna, a path that will haunt her forever. Words: 2646 Warnings: This whole thing is a big TW. NSFW, non con, blood, power play (its Sukuna guys cmon), unprotected, creampie, degredation, breeding kink sort of, size kink sort of.

A/N: I shouldn't have to say this but I don't condone actual r*pe or anything of the sort. This is fanfiction. Emphasis on the fiction.

~MDNI~

Being such a low-grade sorcerer was not the best feeling in the world, looked down on by so many, pitied or hated it felt the same. If only you had been born like a regular human, you could hide away from the monsters of the world, you could live guilt free because of you’re complete and utter uselessness. Unfortunately, however you could see curses, which meant you had to try hard, you had help otherwise that guilt would eat you up. Between that looming guilt, you’re barely there technique and desire for you to at least be able to protect yourself is how you came to be a student at jujutsu high. You did come to learn however, your talents lay in academia. Studying and analyzing, putting together reasonable theories to help in combat against the curses and curse users. After the Shibuya incident you were more determined than ever to learn and with that your mind had set itself upon Yuji Itadori and the powerful curse that resided within him, Ryomen Sukuna.

It had been weeks now, following the boy around and studying him, asking him all sorts of questions then disappearing into as much of the literature you could find. To your surprise, Itadori had been rather enthusiastic about your assessment, hoping in your studying of him that you might find a way to rid him of the curse and spare him or at least give him total control so that Sukuna didn’t harm anyone again. The curse in question had no intention of helping you though, chiming in on occasion purely out of his own amusement. You’d even taken to questioning Choso in order to gleam more insight on how cursed objects affect a host’s body. Although he wasn’t entirely helpful either, more so from a lack of understanding his own nature than a desire to help.

It was the topic of the death paintings that you were currently chatting about to Itadori, sat across from one another on his bed, a notebook to your side and laptop resting atop your lap. “So, we know very little as I said, but we can expect that they were created with their mother’s egg of course however when it comes to the paternal parentage it’s more of an, educated guess. See, it could be Noritoshi’s seed and the curse’s blood or cursed energy.” Taking a breath you continue with a slight exaggeration, “Or, it could be the other way around. The curse’s seed and Noritoshi’s blood. I don’t think imbuing his cursed energy would have passed on the Kamo blood technique though but explaining all why seems unnecessary for now. Anyway, what I’m getting at is…” as you continued on Sukuna had formed a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, remarking to the boy “Well, the little mouse is not so dull, imagine that. Prattles too much though.” Your cheeks burned red, eyes snapping up at the same time Itadori’s hand clapped over his cheek, a grimace on his face as he apologised.

You should be used to it by now, Sukuna had, on quite a few occasions, added his own comment to your conversations and it was never kind. Usually something about your weakness, hence he often referred to you as ‘little mouse’. It hurt at first and Sukuna seemed to enjoy that reaction, however now it mostly pissed you off and even though you tried to ignore him, his taunts seemed to burrow under your skin like some evil little parasite, poisoning your mind with hateful thoughts that had once been so foreign to you. “S’okay Yuji” you reassured, shaking your head and flashing a somewhat strained smile. You couldn’t blame him, he was nothing like Sukuna, so you were always quick to remind him of that. As you turned your eyes back to your notebook you hummed, a stray thought finding it’s way past your lips, “If you fathered a child, I wonder if it would possess any of Sukuna’s techniques or biology.” Thinking out loud truly was a bad habit and you felt nerves creep over you the second you said it, apologizing immediately, worried it was an inappropriate topic or just plain insensitive considering his impending execution.

“What an interesting question mouse, perhaps you should experiment, be the next Noritoshi hm?” The snide remark sent chills down your spine and Itadori stood up, waving his hands nervously as he apologised again. “Ah, perhaps that’s enough of my chatter for the night, I’ll leave you be Yuji” your voice had a waver to it, betraying your discomfort as you stood to collect your things. As you turned to leave, a hand clamped over your wrist and the sudden restraint had you jolting, notebook and laptop falling to the floor with a crash. As your eyes met Itadori’s you felt that cold chill wash over you, that feeling when your entire body knows it’s in danger and your stomach seems to collapse into itself and leave a nauseating heaviness in your gut. The hairs on your body stood on end as the sight of Sukuna’s distinct markings made your brain scream in fear and as you began to pull your hand back you knew his comments about your weakness were accurate. He could squeeze his hand and snap your wrist like a twig and the energy that radiated off of him stole your breath away.

He was smirking as he pulled his hand to his chest, forcing you close to him as he spoke in low voice, “You ask a lot of questions, it’s … vexing.” His voice trailed into a something of a growl, his annoyance clear as he continued, “So I’ll provide the experiment to answer one of your many questions, it has been a long time since I’ve indulged after all so I get something out of it too.” He really phrased it like he was about to do you a favor and in hopes of changing his mind, your brain and mouth finally started to work again and you teared up as you stuttered, “No, no Sukuna it, it was a p-passing though, please, d-don’t, I don’t want this!” Your words began to roll together in the panic as you began tugging against his vice like grip. He remained unmoved, staring at you like you were a hissing kitten, amusement barely hiding the cruelty in his eyes.

“You don’t want this? Hm, I thought you were dedicated to your studies, a shame.” Sukuna tilted his head, hand releasing you as he crossed his arms, muscles flexing in a way that only cemented your fear further. “I took control for this little experiment and you don’t want it? Ungrateful. Disrespectful.” With your arm free you stepped back, once, twice, then you turned to sprint and within an instant a hand had splayed out across your stomach, winding you with the force and as a scream tried to claw itself out of your throat another hand had clamped over your mouth. You felt your body being drawn back towards him and while Itadori himself wasn’t an overly large guy, he wasn’t like Aoi Todo in build or even Gojo in height, he still dwarfed you and his hand seemed to cover the entire lower half of your face, a couple fingers stretching down your neck.

The hand Sukuna had pressed to your stomach traced up to your neck, fingers curling over the neckline to form a fist around the fabric before yanking harshly, the buttons and fabric of your uniform giving away easily under the force he used. He pulled your bra down next, exposing your chest to the room as your tears ran freely down your cheeks now, collecting against his hand before spilling over and dripping down. A bored hum resonated from his chest as his free hand groped at your breasts, index and thumb capturing your nipple before pinching it harshly making your writhe against him as you tried to cry out only for the sound to muffle. Your hands tugged at his arm, trying to pull it off your chest as he chuckled. “I’d normally prefer to let you scream your little lungs out but, I’m on limited time so let’s not risk being interrupted.”

Sukuna turned towards the bed as his hand released your nipple only to travel down to lift your skirt instead, snaking under your panties and fingers parting your lips and searching for your core. Your hands followed his arm, nails digging into his skin as you tried to stop, your choked pleas ignored as his middle finger pressed into you with a groan. “Even for such a little thing your tight, I wonder, is it fear or is my little mouse a virgin? Perhaps both” he chuckled as he pressed his palm against your pelvis, forcing your body further against him and the erection that was now clearly rubbing against your lower back. The hand over your mouth loosened, giving you space to breathe and you took the chance to beg the curse for mercy and he rolled his eyes as he scoffed, “You’d be better off screaming, I have no intentions of stopping. I am curious though, is this fragile little body of your really untouched?” Sobbing, you nodded “Please, Sukuna please, don’t, don’t, please don’t.” “How fitting, a virgin sacrifice, that should be an omen of success for this experiment” Sukuna laughed, once again ignoring the pleas as his hand clamped back down on your mouth.

Forcing another finger into your tight heat had you squirming, pressing up on your toes in an attempt to get away but it only served to make the monster behind you groan into your ear. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Sukuna removed his fingers and instead used them to tear off the flimsy fabric that had been your underwear. “I’m gonna need both hands now, so no screaming yeah? Anyone that interrupts me will die and you don’t want people dying on your behalf, do you?” Another sob seems to wrack itself through your body and your hands fell away from his arm, your will to fight fizzling out at the promise of death. “I’m going to need you to answer me mouse, I want to hear you say you won’t scream.” As he dropped his hand from your mouth you barely had the capacity to speak, choking out between sobs, “I won’t scream, I won’t, I promise.” Sukuna chuckled, content with your compliance, “That’s a good little mouse.”

Now he pressed you forward and into the bed, forcing you onto your knees, ass up and face pressed into the mattress. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pulling his cock out and rubbing the fat tip against your pussy. His touch might have been rough but your body had reacted how he wanted and you were slick enough it would be enjoyable for him. You dug your fingers into the duvet, wishing, praying you’d sink into it and disappear before he got any further but your thoughts got crushed as forced the angry red tip into you. Sukuna dug his own nails into your ass as he gripped himself and tried to get in further, “If you don’t relax, I’m only going to be rougher.” He sounded irritated, like the burning stretch that had you crying harder now was simply an inconvenience to him. You tried though, you really did, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax to the intrusion but it had a mind of its own and seemed only to defy you, muscles clenching in an attempt to stop the curse from using you.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, “I warned you” and he pulled your hips back harshly, forcing himself in. You know you promised not to, but you screamed, it was thankfully muffled by the duvet that you had pulled into your face but Sukuna brought a hand down on your hip, snapping at you to be quiet. It felt like you were being split in half, like he tore your tight cunt to fit himself in, a burning, stinging pain that radiated throughout your pelvis and down your thighs making you gasp for air. He moved more freely now, sliding in and out with a deep grunt of pleasure as the coppery smell of blood filled your nostrils making you gag and bury your face deeper into the bed. “Humans, you’re as fragile and weak as bugs” He mused as he slammed your hips back against himself again. Even now he seemed bored, as if using your body like some fuck toy meant nothing to him. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so shattered you’d have picked up on how his pleasure seemed to come from dominating you, tormenting you, ruining you.

He reached a hand forward, yanking your hair to the side, forcing your face into the light and displaying the swollen red mess that was your eyes. Cheeks streaked with tears and the outline of his handprint that had slowly begun to bloom into a bruise in some places. He grinned then, eyes taking in your look of despair as he fucked you into him at a brutal pace, hand returning to your hip and once again he sunk his nails into your flesh pulling a broken cry from your lips. It sounded hoarse, your throat sore from sobbing, from screaming into his hand then the bed. Sukuna knew he was running low on time, he could feel Itadori trying to claw back out and he focused on the blood now instead. Watched as it beaded up then slipped over the swell of your ass, some of the droplets making it as far as your thighs.

Finally Sukuna felt that coil tighten, pulling your body as close as he could, the head of his cock now hitting your cervix with bruising force that had you whimpering in pain despite the odd heat of pleasure that still managed to build in your own stomach. He rutted himself against your ass, blood smearing and staining his pants, the smell of it and sex filling the air and with a low, rumbling groan he spilled himself inside. Your heartbroken sobs only serving to fuel him, encouraging him to press as deep as your body could possibly allow and he stilled, breathing slow and deep, watching your tense body quiver. “Hm, here’s a question for you. If you do get pregnant, will Itadori be there for you and the child? Will he run, convince you to abort it, maybe he’ll suggest you keep it? He’ll definitely blame himself either way. Stupid. Humans are so stupid. I look forward to it though. Breaking him is very enjoyable after all.” Sukuna pulled away, completely releasing you now, watching as the mix of blood and cum slowly dribbled out of your swollen cunt, the occasional drip falling onto the bed below.

Once you realised you were free you collapsed, legs pulling up to your chest as you trembled, waiting for the curse to disappear as bile burnt your throat as the sick reality of the situation settled over you. It felt like forever and yet it somehow it felt like it had all happened in the blink of an eye and you realised you felt dizzy, the room seemed to swim and shift before your eyes. Suddenly Itadori’s voice rang out, a choked gasped followed by a loud thud as he stumbled back only to fall on his ass. Itadori didn’t want to look, he really didn’t want to see but his eyes seemed fixated on the trembling form on his bed and he knew, he knew all the apologies in the world, no matter how sincere, weren’t going to fix this. A silence seemed to swallow the room now, disturbed only by Itadori’s scattered breaths and your own shaky, whimpered ones.

[mochinomnoms]

Hello I saw your event and got interested! I was wondering if you could do #24 with Idia (romantic, fluff, and suggestive if possible) with fem!reader?

idia shroud x f!reader [tags] – romantic, fluff, suggestive [wc} – 3, 241 prompt 24: “I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” notes - the only way to write idia is kind pathetic like a wet cat. i love pathetic men a floral inconvenience

According to legend, a Japanese emperor gave blue hydrangeas to the girl he loved, to apologize for neglecting her and to show how much he really cared for her. Their petal shape resembles a beating heart. 

Idia thinks that he was cursed in a past life for doing something awful. Maybe he kidnapped someone’s kid and tried to kill them. Maybe he tried to overthrow the gods and take over himself, but failed miserably. Or maybe, worst of all: broke someone’s limited-edition, vintage Tokyo Mew Mew Ichigo figurine. 

He sure as the underworld that he did something, why else would he be puking up hanahaki flowers like some cringey Canon x Reader fanfic? 

“Big Bro! You really should go to the school infirmary, the petals and stems can cause irritation and damage to the trachea and nasopharynx if not treated properly!”

Ortho was currently hovering over him, fretting like a mother hen over her chick. How ironic, Idia thought as he picked at the petals still in his teeth, it was for the little brother to be caring for the elder. 

“Why do that when I can just have the school delivery bots bring me medicine. Then I won’t have to interact with anyone, I’d literally DIE if anyone saw me like this…”

Especially if the Prefect saw him. The image of her sweet face, and beaming smile…like a scene from a shoujo manga, flooded his mind. He could practically hear her voice, full of concern, asking, “Are you okay, Idia?”

Idia fell into a sneezing fit, petals flying from his mouth and nose as his sneezes continued, one after the other, until he was also thrown into a hoarse, wet-sounding cough. 

“Big Bro! That’s it, you’re going to the nurse!” Ortho, despite being quite small, grabbed Idia by the back of his striped pajama shirt, much like one grabs a wet cat by the scruff of its neck. 

“UUuuuuuuuuuughghuguguguhidonwannaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHh!” Idia cried out in a whiney, high-pitched tone. 

His brother, perhaps taking pity on his brother, took the shortcut to the infirmary, cutting directly pass the buildings and fields as Idia’s arms and legs loosely flew like cooked spaghetti noodles. Flying through the window that Nurse Goethel often kept open for fresh air, Ortho plopped Idia into a spare bed, who collapsed like a ragdoll into the thin mattress. 

“I’ll go check you in with the Nurse, I’ll be right back, please make yourself comfortable Idia!”

Idia gave a muffled grumble as a response, shoving his face further into the hard surface of the bed with a sense of dread. He could hear Ortho speak with Goethel at her desk. 

Well, he thought, at least she won’t see me looking all gross and lovesick like some normie—

“Idia, oh my god, are you sick?” 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

A shrill, ear-splitting shriek left his mouth as the flames of his hair blew up into a blazing hot pink. Idia bolted him, a sharp pain hitting the top of his head as he heard you yelp. As he rubbed the pained spot, Idia noticed that you too were rubbing your chin. Oh Sevens, he hit your chin with his big, stupid head. 

“Ooowwwww, damn Idia, you hit hard…” you hissed, though you gave him a sweet smile in reassurance. 

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have scared you…though why are you covered in flowers?”

Idia froze, debating on whether or not he should open his mouth and potentially say something damning, or just stay quiet and hope you’d just get weirded out and leave. 

“Because he’s an idiot who didn’t come to immediately see me at the first petal cough!” 

The nurse came up to Idia with a disapproving glare, handing you a clipboard and pen before slipping on a clean pair of gloves. 

“Prefect, please check the boxes for every symptom I find. I believe I know what it is, but we need to check all our bases.” 

Idia peeked at you from the corner of his eye as you smiled at him, waving your fingers as the nurse whispered a spell to turn her magic pen into a makeshift flashlight. 

“Now, open up and say ‘ah’ so I can see what those flowers are doing to you.” 

Following her instructions, Idia tried his best to be a cooperative and willing patient, if just to get out of here faster. Unfortunately, your presence only seemed to make it harder to do so, as hydrangea flowers bloomed from the pores of his skin, focusing particularly around his hands and neck. 

The nurse, he’s sure, could also see the magic sparkles forming as a new bouquet formed through his throat and shot up his mouth. She tsked, leaning back to allow Idia to hack out the now decent sized hydrangea bouquet. They were a vibrant blue, much like his hair. 

“Ah, go, go on and let it out.” The nurse waved a hand at Ortho. “Dear, please fetch your brother a cup of the tea I have brewing at my desk. Prefect? Please note that the patient has no evidence of root growth in his throat.”

“Root growth!? Is my brother going to be okay?” Ortho worriedly rushed over, the tea spilling over the rim of the foam cup. “Is it a curse or disease? Is my brother growing a plant in his lungs!?”

“Ortho, you scanned me earlier this week, remember?” Idia hoarsely replied, taking the tea to gingerly sip at it. “Nothing in ‘em, or my stomach ‘cept ramen noods.”

“A WEEK?!” The three of you flinched at the shrill gasp of Goethel, who was glaring daggers at Idia. “Mr. Shroud, you’ve been sick with an unknown flora disease and you didn’t even bother to let the staff know? What if you were contagious!!”

Idia shrank into himself as he whispered, “It’s not like I leave my room…” 

“Bateria or the pollen could’ve gotten into the air vents and infected the rest of your dorm, ugh.” The nurse sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before addressing you. “Miss Y/N, if you mark down the lack of root growth, fever, and magical origin of the flowers, what do you get?”

He watched as you flipped through the clipboard, smile slightly faltering as you read one of the papers. You cleared your face briefly, before smiling politely back at the nurse and Idia.

“Based on everything, it seems that Idia most likely has the flower sickness, also known as the love sickness, petal fever, or, most commonly, hanahaki.”

Idia cringed at the cold, monotone sound of your voice. Now he’d done it. You knew, somehow you knew that he had the biggest, fattest, most twitterpated-full crush on you. No, crush was understated. He had dreams of you, the cringiest, domestic fantasy-based shit where he’d imagine you, waking up in bed with him back at the Island of Woe. You had given him a sleepy smile as you curled into side, naked. With a smile and a kiss to his lips, dream you turned over to hover over him, trailing small kisses and love bites down his body, further and further as you whispered to him, over and over, “I love you, Idia—”

A queasy, dizzying feeling fell over Idia as a particularly painful croup caused him to double over and vomit last night's dinner alongside blue, heart-shaped petals. 

“Idia!”

“Big Brother!”

“Shroud—Prefect, hold his hair back! Ortho, grab the trashcan, I’ll go get some cleaning supplies and new sheets.”

Nurse Goethel barked orders to the other two, who quickly jumped into action. Idia could feel a shiver as he felt your hands softly grasp his flaming hair, fingers grazing his cheek as you tucked his bangs behind his ears. He could barely make out your coos, no doubt comforting him. You must be disgusted seeing him like this, having to care for a sopping wet cat of a man. Ortho was holding the trash can, right on time for Idia to hurl some more flowers and stomach acid. 

“Oh, Idia…you poor thing.” You whispered into his ear, unintentionally causing his body to warm up and a chill go down his spine to settle in his abdomen. He was very aware that if he turned his head to look at you, he’d get a faceful of your chest like some harem isekai protag, the thought making him warm further and his tips pink again. 

“I didn’t realize you were feeling this bad, Idia…” Ortho murmured, guilt in his voice. “I should’ve brought you sooner…”

“N-no…” Idia gravelly replied, wiping his mouth clean. “It’s not your fault Ortho, don’t beat yourself over it.”

Ortho still looked guilty, but nodded in affirmation, glancing at briefly at the Prefect. His gaze flitted between the two, and Idia could briefly see Ortho’s eyes go blank, as they did when searching through his knowledge database.

“Miss Prefect!” Ortho chirped, voice now perky much to Idia’s concern. “May I ask for a spare infirmary shirt for my brother? He must be very uncomfortable in his soiled one!”

Idia was now firmly and acutely aware of your hands still on him, thumb rubbing soothingly into his temple. 

“Oh, of course Ortho.” You moved away, hands hovering for just a moment, as you replied, “They’re in the storage, I’ll be right back!”

Idia watched as you walked away into the infirmary storage. Ortho did as well, waiting until you were out of earshot to excitedly whisper, “Idia! I know it’ll be an easy fix!”

“Huh?” Idia rose an eyebrow at his brother, confusion setting in.

“It’s a love sickness, and you love the Prefect—Idia stop looking at me like that—so if you confess to them, the flowers will go away!”

Idia was still giving Ortho a horrified look, as he continued. 

“Based on the timing of your reactions in correlation with close proximity within the Prefect, along with your increased heart rate at their touch, speech, and glances, and the fact that the Prefect stated on December 15th at 11:18:53 pm that she likes hydrangeas, she is the cause of the sickness. Right?”

“Ortho!’ Idia hissed, grabbing at his brother to shut him up despite Ortho not technically having a mouth. 

“Quiet down, this isn’t some otome game where I can cheat and look online for the right responses. Did you see how she reacted earlier when she found out it was hanahaki, how disappointed she looked? There’s no way Y/N—I mean the Prefect, didn’t connect the dots. 

“But, Big Brother!” Ortho whined, “Based on her heart rate and increased body temperature—”

“No is no, Ortho! It’s not going to be such an easy fix, I’ll just get rejected!”

“Technically speaking—” Idia and Ortho both jumped at the nurse’s voice, who was coming back from storage with clean linens. The Prefect followed with a new shirt.

“—you don’t need your beloved to accept your feelings, just confess them. Though it’s quite rare that it’s not reciprocated.”

The nurse motioned for Idia to get up as the Prefect handed him the shirt. She began taking the sheets off as the nurse addressed the two brothers. 

“Mr. Shroud, if you are insisting on keeping this sickness intact for fear of rejection, then I will have to ask Professor Crewel for some more potent ingredients for your prescription. Little Shroud?”

“Oh, yes Nurse Goethel?” 

“I could use your assistance, please come with me, Miss Y/N will tend to your brother,” She had a smug tone and smirk as she said this, motioning for Ortho to follow. “Mr. Shroud, please have no worry, she makes an excellent student nurse!” 

Idia let out a defeated, low, whiney groan as he moped over behind one of the privacy screens. You remained quiet as you collected the dirty sheets. He could hear Goethel’s footsteps and Ortho’s fans fade away as they left further and further down the hall. Idia yanked his shirt off, slipping the clean one over his head, noting it was a tad bit too small. He grumbled in annoyance as he pulled the shirt down to cover his stomach. 

“Idia?”

“Eeep!” Idia yelped, your voice coming from right behind the screen. “Y-yes?”

“Are you done changing? I can take your shirt to the hamper.”

He hummed in response, peeking his hand from behind the screen with the shirt in hand. As you took the shirt and walked away, Idia slowly moved to look at you. Once he was sure your eyes were firmly ahead (and briefly taking a look at your ass), he launched himself back into bed, the smell of clean linen filling his nose. 

Idia sighed, a faux exhaustion settling into his bones as he sunk into the bed. He tensed as he felt you sit on the edge to this right. 

“Idia?” you hummed as he closed his eyes to focus on the darkness behind them, instead of you worried expression. 

He hummed in response. 

“Nurse Goethel said that the remedy is actually quick and easy, right?”

He hummed again.  

“You’ll just keep coughing hydrangeas until you do something, right?”

“...Yea.” Idia replied in a monotone voice. 

You sighed, a bit in frustration he thinks. “So?”

“...So?”

“Why don��t you?” You stretched out the last vowel with a questioning sound.

“Why don’t I?” Idia mimicked you. 

"Why don't you just confess?"

“Wha?” He yelped, looking at you like you’d grown heads like a hydra. “W-what do y-you mean, confess!? Are you crazy?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “It would help, wouldn’t it? And Nurse Goethel said it’s rare for it to not be reciprocated, so what do you have to lose?”

“First of all, what’s left of my dignity. Second, I’m not some ML in a romance manhwa. And, third!” Idia straightened up to look you in the eyes, a burst of confidence filling his veins in pure frustration and annoyance. “There’s no way that anyone would be interested in some loser like me, so what’s the point—”

“But I like you!”

Silence fell between you two as the realization of your words settled into both your minds. You, with a growing blush and look of embarrassment, and Idia gaping at you like a fish out of water.”

“Huh.”

“I said,” You murmured, twiddling with the ends of your hair. “That I like you. A lot. I think you’re really fun to be around, you’re even though you're shy and kinda geeky, you’re really passionate about the stuff you like. Idia.”

Your hand reached for his, hesitantly like you were afraid you’d burn him. As you laced your fingers together, Idia felt a lump form in his throat. He kept silent though, watching as you smiled shyly. 

“You’re sweet to your brother, and I notice, to me sometimes too. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you coming out to class more often so we could hang? I missed you this week…it was really lonely without you, even with all my friends.”

Still holding his hand, you leaned in closer to his face, looking at him earnestly. Was this real? Did he unlock a secret route with you without noticing? Why did you keep looking at his lips? OMG WAS THIS REAL—

“Idia,” You snapped him out of his thoughts as the distance between you two kept closing. “If the person you like doesn’t return your feelings, then they didn’t deserve you in the first place. I’ll be there to support you, even if you don’t like me the same way, I’ll always care for you as your friend—”

“But it is you.” Idia blurted out. Whether it was due to a mysterious burst of energy or just a slip of the tongue, he didn’t know. 

“W-what! Idia, you don’t have to try and make me feel—” you tried to stutter an excuse, cheeks pink like the fiery tips of his hair. 

“It’s you! I got this cause of you, cause I knew—I thought,” Idia started to ramble, getting up to grab you by the shoulders and shake. “I thought that you couldn’t like some weirdo like me. Are you telling me I could’ve snatched an SSR level kiss scene with you at any time??!!”

It was your turn to be shocked, a bewildered look in your eyes and Idia rapidly spoke, taking little breaths between sentences.

“Do you know what you do to me?? The thoughts, the dreams I have about you? I see you and get all hot and bothered and you’re telling me that I didn’t have to be some maidenless normie this entire time? I could’ve been lockin’ lips and getting my dick we—”

A sharp shriek leaving Idia’s mouth was muffled as you shoved your lips into his, effectively shutting up his rant. He whimpered as you swiped your tongue along his lips, deepening the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Idia, perhaps in the throes of passion, or not wanting to miss out on this once in a lifetime pull, reciprocated, albeit with a nervous hesitation. 

You seemed to approve, pressing your chest against his as your mouth moved against his, tongues dancing and moans being shared between half taken breaths. His hands hovered over you until you let go of his neck to guide his hands and place them over your hips. An arousing moan left your lips as your hands gently pushed his chest. 

Idia’s world slightly shifted as he fell back first into the bed, your hair creating a curtain as you separated from him. A line of shiny spit followed you, breaking as he gasped for breath while you leaned back down to press kisses against his neck, flowering the disappearing hydrangeas. 

He yelped as your teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot, opening his mouth to blurt out, “I'm so happy that you confessed first.” 

You let out a breathless giggle, turning your head and resting your chin on his neck to look up at him with, he swears on the Star Rouge sequel, hearts in your eyes. “Why?” 

“If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” Idia chuckled, “I’m sorry you have to deal with such a coward like me.”

“Idia.” You firmly responded, “Don’t. I like you as you are. We’re both young, we have time to grow. I’ll grow with you, if you’ll have me?

Looking down at you, practically on top of him, Idia opened his mouth to tease your softness, and suddenly froze. The mortifying, though wonderful he had to admit, scene was dawning on him as his entire body heated up and turned red. 

“Uuuuuwwwwwahaaahahahahaha—you’reontopofmethere’sagirlontopofmeisthisanewlevelinyourouteIdidn’tprepareforthis—mmmfph!”

You effectively shut him up with another kiss to his lips, smiling as Idia was shocked into silence with a dopy, wobbly smile forming on his lips.

“Relax, Idia, I’ll take the lead on all the romance stuff until you get the hang of it. For now you can be my player two!”

Idia snorted, smirking at you as he teased, “That’s such a cringey thing to say~”

“You say things like that all the time!” 

The two of you shared a soft laugh, unaware of the audience of two at the door watching. Ortho recorded the memory for the wedding he was already planning in his head, while the nurse muttered to herself about wasting time gathering ingredients for a prescription potion she no longer needed. Despite this, she smiled, happy that her little words of encouragement to the Prefect earlier worked. 

[igotanidea]

Shunning: Jason Todd x reader

request: Jason comforting reader cause her friends ostracised her.

A/N: hopefully this will put a smile on the face of everyone who felt back for being rejected in any form it may come.

***

They were madly in love, there was no denying that.

But not in a lovey-dovey kind of way that was reserved only for the time they were alone and felt safe enough with the other to let that side out. It was rather mercilessly-teasing-not-really-meaning-all-those-mean-words-coming-out-of-my-mouth-cause-only-I-can-do-that manner.

However, there are boundaries to every relationship.

Especially when one of the parts in couple is a infamous vigilante/antihero.

And ever since the beginning Jason made it very clear that Y/N was not supposed to visit his apartment when he was not there. It was his duty to keep her safe. At all costs. And since sometimes it happened that due to lack of strength after patrol he just crashed his regular flat instead of safe house, no one, no one, was allowed to connect Y/N Y/L/N to Red Hood.

No fucking one.

Even if it meant giving her the spare key as a sign of commitment (but only because Jason tended to lost his own too often), but also simultaneously pushing her away by making the hereinabove mentioned rule.

Yeah… it hurt.

But she understood.

She understood all the rules and boundaries and safety precautions coming from being with him and if that’s what it took to call him hers – so be it.

So normally she stuck to the principles.

But—

***

8 a.m.

It was one of the hardest patrol he had ever had, but some kind of crazy instincts made him push forward and patch himself up at the nearest lair. Which wasn’t even his in the first place, but that was something Grayson would never know. And also- besides the point.

The fact was, though, that he came back to his  official address (official for someone who was still legally dead, of course), dressed in regular clothes and without blood stains with plasters all over his face.

Planning to maybe call his girlfriend so they can spend the nice day together.

Hoping to see her teasing smirk and eyes rolling, knowing she was the one to match his sarcasm, give him hard time making this relationship a challenge for him, which was exactly why she fell for her in the first place. Or maybe it was the fact that underneath all that rough-around-the-edges surface they were so similarly sensitive on the inside it made it easier to connect on so many levels.

Lost in his thoughts he opened the door and immediately knew something was wrong.

Energetic music coming from the kitchen.

Some crazy (DELICIOUS!) smell.

And the opened curtains that make the dim Gotham light permeate the room.

The hell?

Jason grabbed his pistol from the shoe (regular clothes or not, forewarned is forearmed) and busted into kitchen, grabbing the intruder by the arm, pointing the gun to their head.

“Auch! Fuck! Jay!”

“Y/N!” the gun landed on the floor and she immediately kicked it away, so it wouldn’t fire on her leg or foot.

‘Well morning to you to!”

“The hell you doing here?!”

“fucking breakfast!”

“What?!”

The scene was truly grotesque.

Boyfriend and girlfriend, who were, may I remind you, madly in love, standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, one of them clearly in need of some loving and rest, the other offering exactly that and yet they settled on yelling their surprise out at one another.

“I’m gonna ask you again- what are you doing here?” Jason almost hissed, his own protective and possessive instincts kicking in in a Red Hood style.

“I told you-“ she became a little defensive, but sure as hell not submissive or humble.

“Y/N!”

“Stop yelling at me Jason!”

The way she accentuated the last word, his name, made him stop for a moment, groan in frustration and run hand over his face, almost poking his eyes out. Right. He was Jason now. Her Jason. And she didn’t deserve the aggression and violence (she had her fair share of that coming from men).

“Okay, fine. I won’t yell. But explain to me.”

“I needed you—” she finally whispered.

Any other guy would just melt at such sweet confession coming from the loved woman, but Jason? Nah. He was way more perceiving and knowledgeable about her quirks.

So he noticed.

Her sad eyes.

Her nervous energy.

Her feigned smile.

And the fact that she not only just made him his favorite breakfast but also was currently keeping an eye on the blueberry muffins in the oven.

“Y/N….” he said calmly to get her attention.

“Yeah, huh, what’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question…”

“What you mean?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t trick me honey.” He warned with a grin and before she realized what was happening around her he grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the living room, ready to coax, force or hug the truth out of her. No holds barred.

“My muffins!” she yelled struggling against his grip.

“Yeah, whatever, as long as we don’t need firefighters here I don’t care.”

He threw her on the couch sitting beside her.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing really I –“

“you know I’d hate to be the therapist in this relation and steal the job you do for me, but for Christ’s sake Y/N, let it out.”

Okay, so he clearly did not think those words out.

And it was not his intention to make her cry.

Even if her snuggling into his chest made him feel like she actually needed him. Like she wasn’t always the tough, self-made, self-sufficient girl.

“Oh…” he gasped wrapping arms around her. “Shh… sh… it’s okay. I got you. I got you, you can tell me.” The mindless words were just coming out his mouth when he pulled her closer not caring about black mascara smudges on his favorite shirt. (which was old either way, so no shame in ruining it).

“Do you think I’m pathetic for being an introvert?”

“What?” he blinked a couple times, frowning and searching her face to make sure she was serious with that question “Since when you’re an introvert?”

“Jason…”

“Ok, princess listen to me. I have no idea from where that idea got into your pretty little head but-“

“My friends.” She stuttered wiping her eyes smudging makeup even more looking like a cute little panda and despite all the seriousness from her part Jason smiled for a moment considering the view adorable.

“come again? Your friends?”

“Yeah…” she sniffled “my friends. We were supposed to hang out last night, but when I reached out, cause I was feeling a tad lonely” she send him a look “they all respectively said that they are busy and tired and maybe another time.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded “I got a feeling I know where this is going-“

“Believe me, you have no idea.” She rolled her eyes, sadness slowly making way to annoyance and frustration “not only they went partying, which I found out via Instagram, hashtag somuchfun, hashtag hotgirlsparty,  but also figured it was Allison’s bachelorette party!”

“That Alison?! The friendship bracelet Allison?!”

“yes! Can you imagine the audacity!? And she’s been engaged for months and everyone knew!”

“No way!” Jason gasped while they both acted at least like Hollywood wives gossiping about first world problems.

“Also, I have to say how much I appreciate you actually listening to all my silly girly ranting.”

“Of course baby” he kissed her forehead rubbing her back affectionately “but don’t tell it to anyone. Now seriously, all jokes aside, are you all right? I mean – not that I have much experience with friendship-“

“Roy.” She cuts him off with a firm voice.

“Ok, fine, fine! I’ll make peace with him!” he raised his hands in surrender “that’s not the point. You were straight forward casted out! Ostra-fucking-cised! And the fuck why??” now he was becoming a little angry.

“Cause clearly I’m a mood killer, no fun, tense, embarrassing, don’t know how to party-“

“WHAT?!”

“Jason?” she looked at him briefly “Jason! JASON! HELL! Put that gun down and get back here!” she yanked the back of his shirt pulling him back to the couch before he could something reckless and irreversible.

“Let go off me princess I have to-“

She started crying again.

“Oh god! Oh baby please don’t cry, I’m sorry-“ he cupped both her cheeks falling to his knees and wiping the tears away “Y/N, love, please I didn’t mean to –“

“There’s only one thing you have to do now.”  She calmed down at once, revealing that her tears were just another trick.

“Bloodbath?”

“What?! NO! You stay here and pamper me! Comfort me!” she smacked him on the head, soft enough to not make any damage. “Jeez! How many times will I have to teach you!? A girl, your girl is crying. What do we do then?” her voice was reminiscent of that of a primary school teacher

“We hug. We say nice words. We don’t let go until she feels better. We let her do all she wants cause she’s sad.” He answered mechanically.

“Very good, Jason” Y/N teased “gold star for theory, now can you please make it into practice?”

Ten seconds later she was wrapped up in his strong arms, with one of his hand cradling her head and brushing the strands of her hair, the other on the small of her back.

“For the record, I think introverts are cool. Seriously, the hell is wrong with the world making a false impression that you need to crash everyone just to get somewhere in life? Like I don’t know, make a name for yourself by being loud and show-offish.

“Jason…” she laughed and it made his chest reverberate

“What--? Oh! Hey! That’s not what I meant! We were talking about you,, not me!”

“Well you made me laugh, so good job on that!”

“You know what on the other hand, introverts are assholes. They are always quiet and listen and remember everything you say only to use it against you later on. Like little rat searching for the hole in everything.”

“Hey!” she poked his ribs

“Oh no, princess, that’s out the line!” he laughed rolling on top of her, tickling her. “You’re the most amazing introvert I have ever met, you hear me? Life is a constant party with you and your beautiful mind, ok? So what if they didn’t tell you about the bachelorette? I mean, sure it sucks, but I bet her fiancé is an ugly ork.”

“And how is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Cause baby believe me, once you get thrown a bachelorette I’ll make sure that not only Instagram but also all the magazines will be racing to get photos of that party. How could they not? The prettiest, most amazing girl in Gotham not being available anymore! Damn, Kardashians will get jealous of you!"”

“Are you asking me something here Jason Peter Todd.”

“You and your admirable fantasy.” He smirked kissing her forehead “I’ll leave you hanging, but tell me one thing. Do you really need fake friends? You already have a zombie boyfriend, isn’t that enough for you? Starring in a “Walking Dead”, now you also want “Mean Girls?” he faked indignation “so greedy!”

“Your impossible you know that?” she smiled at him, the first genuine smile since she came to his apartment.

“Hell no, I’m way more handsome than Tom Cruise!”

“Jason!”

“What? You wanted to be comforted, you can only get it done my style.”

“Hey. Hey look at me” she cupped his cheek so their gazes could meet.

“Yeah? What is it my sunshine and rainbows?”

“Don’t stop, okay?”

“Never.” He grinned. “You’re stuck with the tacky humor and dry jokes.”

***

And with a burning blueberry muffins

[bouncybongfairy]

Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice. 

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen. 

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester. 

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away. 

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training. 

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice. 

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms. 

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted. 

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. 

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up. 

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying. 

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize. 

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk. 

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off  and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down.. 

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum. 

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core. 

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall  over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

[suashii]

— 𝒶 𝓃𝑒𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 3k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ oral (f!receiving) ﾉ face sitting :3 ﾉ clothed sex ﾉ subby yuta ﾉ reader is a little mean at moments ﾉ jealousy

you can’t say that you normally time how long it takes yuta to answer his door but you can say that it never takes this long. you add the oddity to your growing mental list titled: “ways yuta has changed since having sex for the first time.” it’s not one you ever saw yourself making but life has a way of throwing curveballs at people and this seems to be the one pitched to you. 

maybe yuta feels a bit different these days, but he’s still yuta. you’re sure you’ll get used to this new version of him soon enough.

a few more long seconds pass before you hear footsteps on the other side of the door and the barrier swings open, revealing yuta in all his glory.

“so you are home,” you comment with a smile upon finally being met with the sight of him. you don’t see him as often these days and the fact makes you sadder than you’d like to admit. so, you soak him in silently—the perpetual dark crescents beneath his eyes, the dark hair that hangs over the left side of his forehead, the way his hand almost unconsciously always finds its way to rest on his neck.

“sorry, sorry,” he apologizes with that familiar, sheepish grin of his. at least some things never change. “come in.”

the way he ushers you in and leads you back to his bedroom leads you to believe that you unintentionally interrupted him. he’s thumbing through the shirts in his closet when you come to stand by his bed and ask, “did i catch you in the middle of something?”

“oh, i’m heading out later so i was just getting ready.” you stop yourself from getting comfortable on his mattress at his response, although, when he turns around with a button up in hand, he uses his other to wave the misunderstanding away. “you can hang out though.”

“where are you going?” you ask him, plopping down on his bed. the scent lingering on his pillowcase and sheets is fresh like he just washed the bedding. however, you can still pick out a hint of the fragrance he wears regularly—warm and just a little woody.

“out for drinks,” he tells you. he’s in the process of trading out the t-shirt he’s been lounging in for the one he just picked out when your silence finally registers. a look over his shoulder at you is enough to tell him that the answer doesn’t satisfy you. the expression you’re wearing is telling—like you know there’s more that he chose not to say. it doesn’t seem like you’re backing down, either. with your silent prompting, he adds, “with a girl.”

“another date?” you have to stop yourself from frowning. “didn’t you go out with some other chick over the weekend?”

this is exactly why you haven’t seen him lately—he’s so busy meeting women and taking them home to fuck that he barely has time to spare for you. you’ve always thought that if he’s happy, you will be, too, but you have to admit that that isn’t the case. it’s worrying—how quickly he went from such a timid guy with no sexual experience to one who’s getting laid every three days.

you aren’t sure if this is coming from a place of concern for the girls crossing paths with him or if the whole fuckboy persona is beginning to become offputting to you, but you find yourself asking, “and they all know this is casual? that you’re seeing other girls two days after you hook up with them?”

“it sounds bad when you put it like that…” he starts, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. he’s only gotten around to fastening the bottom half of them, leaving the unblemished skin of his chest on display. “but yeah, we’re all on the same page.”

it’s still hard to believe that the shy little yuta you’ve come to know has turned over a promiscuous new leaf. it would be one thing if he simply lost his virginity and settled down with one partner but the extent of his sexual activities has truly surprised you. a question comes to mind—one that you normally wouldn’t ask your other friends but an important one considering yuta only just started sleeping around. “you’re getting tested, right?”

the question doesn’t phase him the way you think it will. you expect his eyes to widen and a furious red to overtake his cheeks and the tips of his ears but neither happens. he simply nods. “yes, of course.”

“and you’re wearing condoms?” you follow up.

“mm-mm.” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, the dark strands falling back into place. “who knows how many women i’ve gotten pregnant by now.”

you can’t hide the disbelief that paints your features—the way your mouth hangs open and your unblinking gaze glued on the man before you. the shock of his words makes it difficult to find your voice and you’re sure it comes out higher than usual when you finally do. “yuta, you cannot—“

“i’m joking!” he exclaims with a wide smile. it shrinks into something smaller when he sees how serious you are. “yes, i am wearing condoms. jeez, what’s with the third degree?”

“it’s nothing, just wanna make sure you’re being safe.” you had planned on sticking around until it was time for him to leave but the thought of staying here while he’s getting ready to see—to fuck—someone else isn’t a pleasant one. you swing your legs over the side of his bed and stand up, making your way to the door. “i’m leaving. have fun fucking your flavor of the day.”

“wait, wait, wait.” yuta reaches out to grab your arm. his calloused grip is warm and firm, though, you’re sure you could pull away if you wanted to—he’s made sure of that much. despite that, you don’t. “you aren’t jealous, are you?”

“wow,” you scoff and turn to face him. there’s a sparkling glint in his eyes, one that has no place being there. “you have seriously let this inflate your ego.”

your comment doesn’t offend him, doesn’t hurt him the way you secretly wished it would. instead, his thumb glides against your wrist, runs over your pulse as he leans down closer to you. his voice comes out just above a whisper. “you aren’t curious? not even a little?”

“not everyone wants you, yuta.” you finally pull your hand back. “someone should really put you in your place.”

your words put a smile on his face. “are you volunteering?”

you have no idea what’s gotten into him, why he’s poking you like a bear and looking for a reaction, but his incessant goading has done its job. reflexively, almost without a thought, your hands come up to shove the broad chest before you. yuta stumbles back and his legs hit the mattress, causing him to fall back against it.

for the first time since you walked in, shock washes over yuta’s face the moment you begin to approach him. you find yourself crawling on the bed and straddling him, your hands pressing into the mattress on either side of his head. his lips are parted now and they only seal when he swallows the lump lodged in his throat.

it’s almost enough to make you laugh—how quickly his tune changed from confident to a bundle of nerves. you guess this has yet to happen to him, not being the one who’s calling the shots, that is. maybe you aren’t quite laughing, but it does make a grin stretch across your lips.

“what happened, yuta?” you ask him, sitting back on your calves. you lift your hand and bring it to his face, letting your finger drag along the curve of his jaw. it may just be your imagination, but you swear you can feel him shiver at your touch. “you were practically begging for this just a second ago. but if you changed your mind, i’ll get up and go.”

“no.” he shakes his head, the hair against his comforter growing frizzy with the careless movement. his hands come up to rest on your hips. “please stay.”

“ah-ah.” you knock his hands away and panic flashes over the man’s face. “no touching. you have to earn that.”

he swallows thickly and gazes up at you with curiosity swimming in his eyes. “h-how?”

“be good for me,” you tell him, the grin apparent in your voice. you brush the stray strands of hair away from his face before leaning down just like yuta had to you only moments earlier. this time, you’re sure that he shivers when your whispered voice tickles him as you ask, “tell me what you want me to do.”

your fingernails graze over his exposed skin—down his neck, over his shoulders, along his collarbone, anywhere you reach. it’s meant to be no more than a way to keep you busy while you wait for a reply from yuta, but he seems to enjoy the touch and the way goosebumps raise following the drag of your nails. although his quiet moans are easy on the ears, it’s a bit boring for your taste. your hand slows on its path in search of an answer. “hmm?”

you’re almost convinced that his voice is stuck in his throat when his request finally fills the air. “k-kiss me, please.”

you waste no time fulfilling his wish, brushing your lips over the same spots your fingers had just been, stopping every now and then to press them down in soft kisses. they grow deeper as you traverse against his smooth skin, love bites marking the once spotless canvas. by the time you make your way up to his lips, your kiss is hungry, almost desperate on your end and his—like the both of you have been silently waiting for this time to come.

as much as you enjoy yuta’s pillowy lips against yours and the way he melts for you when your tongue slips past them, you have a desire for more. you keep that bit to yourself so as not to feed yuta’s existing albeit dormant cockiness, though, you are willing to nudge him in the right direction.

you pull back from the kiss, still close enough that yuta can feel your breath when you speak. “don’t tell me all you want is for me to kiss you. there must be something else…”

there are a lot of things that come to mind, a lot of things yuta has dreamt of doing with you, but one rises above the rest. he can only hope that you’re willing to indulge him. “would you…” his voice trails off as he turns his head to the side, avoiding your gaze.

“go ahead,” you start, grabbing his chin and turning his head so that he’s looking at you, “ask me.”

he’s never felt this hesitant before but none of the women he’s slept with have been you. they’ve never made him ask for what he wants, patiently waited until he verbalized his desires. and he hasn’t wanted that, no, not from them. as foreign as the task is, he’ll do it if that means finally getting a taste of you.

despite the warmth spreading over his cheeks, yuta forces himself to hold your eye. “can you—can you please sit on my face?”

hearing the words pass his lips makes your heart jump in your chest. the goal had been to get him to admit what he craved the most but part of you believed that yuta was still holding onto his old ways, too bashful and shy to come clean about his needs. perhaps you’re holding onto a version of him that he’s left behind for good, though, you want to see for yourself. “you really want me to?”

“god, yes, please.” his fingers dig into the comforter beneath him in an attempt to keep from touching you like you told him even though he’s itching to. he’ll be patient, be good, for you. “i want to taste you so bad.”

shy little yuta really is gone.

but you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

you crawl forward over him to situate yourself. his breath is warm against your bare thighs and it makes your skin prickle. you hike the skirt you’re wearing up your legs so the fabric doesn’t obstruct your view of his face—you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to see the show.

“you aren’t going to take off your panties?” yuta asks. he’s only inches away now and he’s sure if he tilted his head up just a little bit, he’d be able to stick his tongue out and reach you.

you shake your head with a smile. “i’ll tell you when you can move them. you can lick me through them for now.”

there’s a complaint ready on the tip of his tongue about how he wants to taste and feel you—only you, but he bites it back, figuring that you’ll revoke your generosity entirely if he seems ungrateful. patience, he reminds himself. if he’s patient, he’ll have all of you soon enough.

he wets his lips before diving in, tongue sloppily licking at the layer of cotton keeping him from you. despite the barrier, he can make out your landmarks—the lips he’s wishing his tongue could slip between and your clit that he desperately wants to suck on. even though it isn’t quite what he was expecting, he eats you out through your panties like a man starved.

the fabric is soaked through now and if it weren’t for the hint of you on his tongue, yuta would wonder whether it was his spit or your arousal leaving a darkened spot on your panties. the thought that he got you wound up enough to soak through your underwear oddly fills him with a sense of pride—feeds the ego you claimed he had earlier. he had brushed it off then but it’s hard to ignore now considering that you’re the woman he’s wanted to do this with for the longest.

yuta is a lot more talented with his tongue than you anticipated he would be. you can’t remember the last time someone drew such satisfied noises from you—sharp gasps that you suck in whenever he happens to brush against your clit and musical moans that fill the room when he finds that magical rhythm. you’re beyond pleased with his performance, but an unwelcome thought nags at the back of your mind as the man eats you out; just how many women did it take him tongue-fucking for it to feel this good? you know you shouldn’t say it, but you voice your thoughts anyway. the question comes out breathy, “did you learn to use your tongue like this on all those other girls?”

“they–” he starts, licking you once more before continuing, “they were all practice for you.”

the ache between your thighs grows all the stronger with his confession. you don’t doubt the sincerity of his words—if there’s one thing that you know yuta will never abandon, it’s his honesty. you can admit to yourself that you were jealous earlier, jealous of all the women yuta decided to sleep with instead of you. the envy has all but dissipated now that you know you���ve always been the object of his affection.

“push them to the side,” you tell him hurriedly. yuta doesn’t waste a second following your command, hooking a finger on your panties to drag them to the side. your glistening wetness is hypnotizing and if he wasn’t already salivating this sight would surely be enough to have him drooling. he thinks he could stare at your pretty pussy all day but what he really wants is for you to come on his tongue.

before you know it, he’s lapping at you like your arousal is the very water that he needs to survive. there’s saliva running down his chin as he savors the taste of you. the vibration of his moans against you serves as a means to work you up even more, moans and whimpers of your own bubbling up from your chest.

it’s nearly impossible for you not to grind down on him, to ride his face like there’s no tomorrow. yuta doesn’t mind being trapped between your thighs, only being able to breathe in your heavenly scent and taste your honey-like essence. his tongue glides between your folds, teasing your entrance with each up on down.

“ride my tongue,” yuta’s muffled voice sounds from below you. “use me to come.”

and you do, rocking your hips against his face in rhythm with the salacious movement of his tongue. each flick of the muscle is a drop in your cup that’s filled to the brim, threatening to spill over and flood at any moment. all it takes are a few swirls of his tongue around your sensitive pearl for a wave of pleasure to wash over you. your thighs tremble with your orgasm and your back arches as the aftershocks ripple through you all while yuta continues to languidly stroke your cunt.

he hums against you as you come down from your high, leaving a kiss on your clit before telling you, “you taste so good.”

the compliment makes your heart flutter. “you think so?”

he nods, or at least tries to from his place between your legs. “the best i’ve ever had.”

“well then i guess it’s only fair for me to return the favor,” you suggest, letting your head loll to the side. you can practically see the gears turning in yuta’s head but he doesn’t speak up to question you, instead, waiting for your clarification. “what do you say; want me to suck you off?”

thanks for reading! reblogs + comments are greatly appreciated :))

[sunderwight]

Time travel fic where Vader gets the chance to go back in time, any time, and change his history.

So he goes back to when he was still a slave boy living on Tatooine with his mother.

He avoids the Jedi. Qui-Gon doesn't get the money for the parts they need, so the Queen doesn't reach Coruscant in a timely fashion, and the ousting of the Trade Federation is delayed. Which sucks ass for Naboo. But, on the other hand, the confrontation with Maul happens smack dab in the middle of the desert, so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan actually overpower him together and neither of them dies.

After the Jedi leave, Anakin uses his future knowledge and expertise in cybernetic implants to remove his and his mother's slave chips. A tragic accident befalls Watto, and a fire in the junk shop destroys most of his records, so no one who inherits the remainder has any knowledge of slaves (or anything else) missing from the inventory.

Shmi knows that something has changed. But Ani's always been a miracle, strange and unknowable in many ways, and yet still her son regardless. She goes along with it, even though she's apprehensive about affording water, shelter, and food as they are.

She needn't have worried.

At every turn, Anakin miraculously seems to uncover things they need, or opportunities for them to explore. Shmi finds decent work in various establishments -- cleaning garages and hangers, and cantinas after closing, mostly. There always seems to be someone willing to hire her on for a while, even if they already seem to have staff. Ani works his magic with scrap parts and whatever better pieces they can afford, when they have enough to spare (which is surprisingly often), and sells contraptions to the Jawas, junk dealers, or other interested parties. If he makes and sells some weapons to some enterprising bounty hunters or mercenaries, Shmi doesn't discern it, and Anakin doesn't volunteer the information.

But mostly, he works in prosthetics.

There's a pretty big demand for such in the Outer Rim, especially Tatooine, where the idea of anyone hopping into a Bacta tank is even less realistic than the idea of public swimming pools. People are losing limbs all the time, and good prosthetics are hard to come by.

Anakin makes good prosthetics. Even with limited parts and visible frustration, by the time he's thirteen, most of the planet knows where you go if you need an "extra hand", so to speak.

It's not long before the Hutts take an interest in monopolizing the resource, and seeing what else this talented young mechanic can build. Even if most Hutts rarely need prosthetics themselves, they like to be in charge of a hot commodity, after all. And it's hardly unheard of for them to lose an arm or two either.

Shmi worries. Anakin doesn't. Somehow, all of the local crime lords start to be met with unfortunate accidents. Their relatives and allies investigate, of course, and no one really believes in coincidences in the Outer Rim. But nothing turns up either. Falling cargo, suicides, misfiring weapons, heart attacks, choking on food, slipping and falling into sarlacc pits, it's all stuff that does happen. It just usually doesn't happen so often, to such a specific group of people, within such a short amount of time.

When Anakin is fifteen, Sidious sends people to fetch him. They approach him with sweet offers and seemingly-generous gifts, at first, as if it's not the most suspicious way they could go about it. His mother too, but it's such a stupid effort that Shmi finds them suspect even without prompting, and senses something off about them. Anakin's mother might not be nearly as Force sensitive as he is, but she is, and she doesn't like Palpatine's people even if she doesn't know who they are.

The next ones just try and abduct him. It's at least less insulting in its directness. They find themselves falling afoul of the many dangers of Tatooine instead. Such a risky place, people disappear out here all the time. Mind the womp rats and the krayt dragons.

Finally, Sidious goes himself.

His ship suffers a terrible malfunction upon its descent towards a planetside dock. A true tragedy. The Chancellor will be missed.

History remembers Anakin Skywalker as a footnote in the development of several innovative prosthetic enhancements, and a semi-obscure abolitionist who also advocated for the rights of clones.

[nthspecialll]

The fandom glorifies Arthur Morgan

Now I am not talking about about low honor, I play high honor and got it as the top at the end of every damn playthrough but my Arthur, as it is the cannon Arthur, is not a good guy. I am not going to talk about all of the murder, robbing and stuff he does, because we are majorly aware of it, I am talking his sexism, casual ignorance and disrespecfulness.

I quite often see people say that Arthur Morgan is a woman lover, and he definitely is, he is better than a lot of men from that time (which isn't hard), but he would not hold up in modern times, because he is not from modern times.

Generally speaking, Arthur Morgan is a man who believes in gender roles, he believes in the idea of "a man being a man" and "a woman being a woman." He has opinions about what a woman should do and what a man should do.

I think the biggest hint at this is his relationship with Sadie, because while he accepts her running with the boys he doesn't seem entirely happy about it. "You got a pair of pants and all of a sudden you think you're Landon Ricketts?" "You want to ruuuunnnn with the men?" and also "can Ms Grimshaw spare you?" when the girls asks if they can come to Valentine with him.

Talking of that quest, when he runs off to get Jimmy Brooks he puts Uncle, a lazy old bastard, in charge of getting the girls home even though they are more than capable of doing it themselves as they are healthy young women who knows how to handle horses.

In several antagonize lines against women performers (which are just as cannon as his greet lines) he shouts things like "That isn't very ladylike!" or "Go back to the kitchen" and "go make someone supper."

People keep saying Arthur would "treat them right" and he would, to an extent, he would care for you, he would be nice to you, but he would force those gender roles. He does have a belief women are somehow "softer" and that he as a person with a provider gene should do more of the harsh work.

So now we covered that, lets talk about the racism, or as I probably should rather call it, ignorance, because it is very commonly know Arthur does not judge by the color of skin.

The first one is that Arthur uses the whites-only saloon in Rhodes. Tilly mentions it to Arthur that they don't allow people of color into it, and yet he still supports it, it isn't a big thing but it is something of notice.

Secondly, when he talks to Eagle Flies where he "sets him in his place" Arthur, honey, you are so wrong here. Eagle Flies is being chased by the government for the mere fact that he exists with a different culture, you are being chased because you murdered so many folks, you can run across the sea and live a good life, they are fucked regardless.

When we first arrive in Lemoyne Lenny and Arthur talks about the Lemoyne Raiders about racism and Arthur says "These boys got a manner about them but I haven't particularly noticed," Arthur of course you wouldn't, you are a tall, muscular, white man with sun kissed hair and blue eyes, you are the poster boy for eugenics.

Lastly, which will also bring me to the third point, the casual disrespect:

Arthur causally calling Javier a slur on the boat for no reason, did you really need that one-liner so badly? That goes for a lot of times in the game such as: "are you secretly normal" "what a lunatic" "we should find a better story for that scar" "But you continue to irritate me, I will kill you and make my appologies to the lady" "stick around and you might die for her as well" "oh I didn't know I was talking to a lady." All those were a slight bit disrespectful, enough to be able to annoy the majority of us if he said it to us, and they were also unnecessary.

He is also canonically chronically late, most notably we can hear Sean saying "that man will be late to his own funeral," and when you go around antagonizing characters in camp they are not surprised at all, rather they go "back at it again huh?"

All of this is just to sum up, Arthur is a pretty bad man (also counting in all the illegal stuff) and we tend to glorify him and forget some of these things, partly is also because Rockstar are amazing at hiding them, at making them seem natural, and they are because this is a historically accurate game! It is set in 1899 and this is a man from 1899 he is going to be casually sexist and disrespectful, and again, considering that he is from 1899 he is a decent guy because the majority of folk would be like Micah, not Arthur.

I definitely love Arthur, and I love Arthur exactly because the point of his character is him not being a saint but a human. His redemption is choosing to do good where he can, but even so, this is a man in 1899 and he is going to have a 1899 mindset. If you want to play a game that is set in the past but don't have that type of accuracy it is not Red Dead you want to play.

Also here is an Arthur pic as a thank you for reading all of that. I love him.

[gay-dorito-dust]

can i request hcs of gallagher, jing yuan and sunday falling for a criminal? would they try to bring them to the “good” side?

Sunday: I’m kinda 50/50 on Sunday tbh…

He could persuade/ manipulate you into abandoning your old ways into being with him with promises that he could provide the materials you want/need tenfold.

You had been causing issues for him and the family so why not have you under his roof as his partner? It gets the family off of his back and he gets what he wants.

It was a win-win situation.

You don’t get much of a choice in this situation as Sunday had already put everything in motion long before your fated meeting.

Sunday had kept an eye on you from the moment you started causing problems and ever since then had become a thorn in the family’s side and had grown somewhat of an obsession.

Was it healthy? No but anything Sunday did to earn your eyes on him wasn’t ever healthy, but he likes to believe it was.

While you did get out of a life of crime, was it really better when your new life was spent under constant surveillance from your loving partner and were often refused leave from the house in fear that you were still wanted by the family?

Sunday does love you but it wasn’t a healthy type of love people were tricked into believing…

Gallagher: would have a bit a fun with your little car and mouse game at first.

You being the criminal and him being the one entrusted to put a stop to you schemes.

As long as you weren’t making him work hard nor hurting/killing people and causing mass hysteria then Gallagher was more then willing to let you get away a few times cuz that’s his job

He’d even suggest that you should come to the bar he works on the side in his spare time for a drink and a chat.

You naturally thought this was a rouse and didn’t go but Gallagher was able to persuade you into coming by saying that Gallagher the bloodhound and Gallagher the mixologist were two separate people who ran on two different times.

Needless to say that you began to frequent the bar more often after that and even got to open up to Gallagher about the reasons why you’ve became a criminal.

Gallagher would then help you in getting on the right path by having you bartend with himself and or Siobhan -someone who quickly became one of your closest friends- who knew about Gallagher’s feelings towards you and will occasionally act as his wingman.

After awhile you’ve left the life of crime behind you and become a bartender for the DreamJolt Hostelry in the Reverie.

It wasn’t long before Gallagher asked you out on a date and then later be in a beautiful relationship with you much to everyone in the DreamJolt Hostelry’s relief. They’ve spent long enough not trying to comment on the evident tension between the two of you.

Jing yuan:

He would try to bring you to the good side but not just because he was a crush on you, but more so the fact that you were wasting your time and effort on something that he though was beneath someone of your calibre.

He sees your potential and is impressed but was saddened that your potential was dwindled by the fact that you had resorted to a life of crime.

I mean you must be something if you’ve caught the Generals attention for him to put so much investment in you.

So he would always seemingly be where you are and talks some wisdom into you about how you shouldn’t settle for less just because you thought that was all that your worth. When in actuality you were only relaying on the words other people have used to describe you, rather then let yourself determine your actual worth, which was far greater then the one you’ve given yourself to settle with.

Jing yuan will try to sway you into making the right decision. He firmly believes that you were the only one who should willing make the choice to actively make change to your lifestyle, no one else should have any say in what you do with your life but you.

Whether it’d be good or bad. Life was a lesson that we’re all constantly learning from on a daily basis. We’re not the same person as we were yesterday or the day before and Jing Yuan firmly believed this and was willing to wait as long as it took for you to make the right decision for yourself.

Which you do and from then does Jing Yuan focused on building your relationship in hopes of a potential chance of it becoming romantic.

[ficeacs]

Dragons Fight, Little Light (Chapter 2)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon OFC Synopsis: Dragons never apologize for their rashness until they hurt a fellow dragon as well. Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Violence, Targcest, Begins with HOTD S1, Not Proofread Word Count: 3,756 Previous Chapter

The day his family had dreaded finally came. The day of Rhaenyra’s return along with her bastard kin. Aemond watched as their dragons, all five of them, danced upon the skies of Kingslanding. One yellow, one red, one green, and two white. One bigger and mightier than the other. He was once again subjected to this… pestering feeling of rage. Rage that he never knew to handle. Aemond felt his scar heat and throb. Throb harder than it ever did before. The prince clenched his fists and headed toward the tiltyard for his daily training. 

Aemond battled with Ser Criston Cole, as he did every day. Morningstar against sword and shield. A knight against a prince. He knew the pattern of Criston’s advances by heart; he would have to admit that most days, he was growing greatly tired of the same sparing styles that the knight had to offer. As the prince readied himself for another round, he caught sight of two boys in Harrenhal blue. The prince grinned. Today, they shall see how great of a warrior he was. As he battled with Criston, he made sure to display his skills, besting the knight. He glimpsed upon the two boys to see if they were truly watching; they were. There was a silent look of awe in the two princes that the Aemond relished upon. Another hit from Cole was blocked, and Aemond turned to the princes once more but saw their attentions were no longer in the fight. “That was in Dragonstone; I am completely behaved here. It is you two who had unending squabbles with our uncles.” He heard the voice of his niece through the chatter of the crowd. His eye was fixated on the girl who was partially covered by her brothers. Dark hair fluttered along with the breeze, and even darker eyes rolled at whatever her brother said. 

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” The prince said as the knight complimented him, though it was mostly a complement to himself. He was the one to train Aemond in the ways of a warrior. The prince’s eye returned to where the three stood. Two boys in blue, one girl in scarlet. The prince watched as pink lips spoke once more. “Let us go; the smell of sweat unsettles me,” she complained, and the prince wanted to scoff at her bellyaching. His eye traced her face. Plain, she is plain. Aemond reminded himself, words that his mother often said. Though even he could not lie to himself anymore. Anyone who could see Rhaenyra’s only daughter cannot say she is plain. Upturned obsidian eyes, a snub nose, and round pink lips. She had inherited naught of her mother’s features but mostly her true father’s. 

“Nephews, have you come to train?” The prince called out and twisted the sword in his hand. He smirked at the look of distaste his niece displayed when her dark eyes finally landed on him. When Vaemond arrived and took the three’s attention, his gaze traveled the girl’s frame. She was shapely, almost… plump. “Now can we go?” The prince heard her ask. “Not so fast,” He quickly said, gaining their attention once more. “You still have not greeted your uncle. Has your stay in Dragonstone made you so impolite?” She made no expression. “Hello, Uncle,”  Was all she said. The amused smirk faded from the silver prince’s lips as he watched Eraena ascend the stairs and leave the tiltyard. Aemond was the prince of the realm; he was her elder, yet she greeted him like any common born. No regard, no curtsies or nods. Disrespectful Bastard. The prince thought. 

When the day of the trial came, Aemond stood stoically with his siblings. Everyone was present, apart from the tardy twins who hurriedly made their way to their mother’s side. Aemond watched with a hard disposition at how cavalier the girl was, striding onto the throne room late with no regard for propriety. “Gods,” Aemond heard his brother say under his breath. “Eraena has certainly grown.” His brother said amused by the princess who stood a few yard lengths from them. Aemond knew of the tone in his brother’s voice, and in this instance, he could understand him. Eraena looked annoyingly breathtaking. The rubies in her hair resembled the conqueror’s crown. She may not be a true born, but now, she looked the part. 

Plain, she is plain. Aemond reminded himself. Trying not to grow distracted by her. “How can Rhaenyra let her daughter wear such a dress,” Aemond heard his mother scoff. “She looks pretty,” Helaena interjected. “That she does,” Aegon agreed, and his brother cringed as he licked his lips, his eyes not leaving the princess. Aemond finally pulled his gaze from the girl and focused on the trial. The prince was growing bored with each passing moment that the succession of Driftmark was discussed. However, watching as Daemon cut through Vaemond’s head with the use of dark sister was like a reward after the dull hours had passed. The prince heard a gasp to his left and saw Eraena’s shocked form turn and hide at her brother’s side. Weak Bastard. The prince thought. 

At supper, Aemond grew bothered by the sappy exchanges of empty words between the family members. What he was bothered most by was the smile on Eraena’s lips, as if she would actually believe that their family would grow closer once more after just one measly dinner. Of course, he had to prove the girl wrong and idiotic by the idea of it. It was so easy to bait Jacaerys; he laughed as the boy practically threw all his might into his punch that barely phased the one-eyed prince. What he did not expect was for Jacaerys’ twin to join the ruckus, able to inflict such pain on his brother. After supper, their mother summoned him and Aegon to her chambers.

“Why would you do such a thing, Aemond?” The queen asked as she paced around the room. The prince shrugged, “You seem to forget that it was Jacaerys who had thrown the first punch.” The prince defended. “Because you insulted him and his siblings,” Aegon’s groan sounded out, and his brother turned to him. The elder prince clutched his cock in pain, and Aemond could not help but smirk. “What I said was the truth, Mother,” Alicent shook her head. “You will apologize, Aemond.” The queen instructed her second son, “You as well, Aegon.”

“For what? Not letting Eraena have another go at maiming my cock?” Aemond’s smirk grew at the look of pain in his brother. “No, for the vile things you insisted on saying in her presence!” Aemond shook his head. “You cannot make us apologize to bastards, Mother.” The prince did not wait for his mother’s reply; he simply sauntered out of her chambers. Though he finds Aegon’s pain amusing, he cannot believe that the princess would subject herself to a fight. Violent Bastard. The prince thought. 

When Eraena and his sister joined him to sit with the twins, his heart filled with jealousy as his niece and nephew hurriedly favored the newly arrived princess. Were his sister’s children so easily swayed by a pretty face and wooden figurines? He watched as Eraena gently brushed away the children’s hair from their eyes and how Jaehaera clung to the girl. He wanted to smirk as the little princess yanked the girl’s pendant, but the prince grew distracted not by the necklace but by the low neckline of her dress. How can Jacaerys let his sister wear such a dress? It was not completely revealing; it was more of a…a tease. His eye went to the emerald pendant that the girl handed to the younger princess. His eye then moved to the shining rope on her waist, and he froze. A belt of precious gemstones. A belt of sapphires. He wanted to scoff at her extravagance, remembering the gold thread that adorned her dress the other day and the pearl lining of the other. Spoiled Bastard. The prince thought. 

When the prince was in the pits, checking upon Dreamfyre as his sister had requested. He had not expected to hear the voice of his niece echoing through the dome. “Why are you here? Vhagar does not even fit here.” Aemond started to grow annoyed by her, and at the same time, he could not make himself leave the pits. He did not know what possessed him to follow the girl who uncaringly entered the den of dragons without light. Was she so careless? “Hello, my love!” Aemond’s brows furrowed as to how Eraena addressed her dragon; he watched steely-eyed as the girl skipped to her dragon, placing a kiss on its snout. It was the first time he had seen Alina fully grown. She was more than half the size of his Vhagar; it surprised him that the dragon had fit into the pits. Alina stared him down, its eyes had a remarkable likeness to its rider, obsidian eyes staring down at him. 

“It would seem you agitate my dragon, uncle,” Eraena’s voice rang out, Aemond’s gaze still on the pearly white dragon who shined gold where the light had hit. Is that why she likes pearls and gold? Because it reminds her of her dragon? Aemond frowned to himself and shook his head to get rid of the odd question. “Do not mind the small man, Alina,” Aemond’s frown deepened as he heard her speak in an ancient tongue. He gritted his teeth as he watched Eraena fly away with her dragon. He had not even realized that he had joined the princess in the skies. He smirked as he watched the girl try to be free of him and his mighty dragon until, finally, she gave up and landed back in the pits. Cowardly Bastard. The prince thought.

When supper came that night, Aemond could not help but be bothered by his encounter with his niece at the library. That is not a jape; that is how war starts, Aemond. The prince recalled her words; how dramatic was she? He had to admit that that chase was perhaps the most entertaining he had had in a while, and it was unfortunately cut short due to his sensitive and cowardly niece. However, he did find an odd familiarity and a sense of nostalgia with Eraena. The past nine years had brought forth change in all of them— in their outward appearances and their inward disposition, but he had noted that Eraena was still the girl he had known before. 

Aemond always knew her as a bastard who tried her best to pretend she was not. Ever since then, she tried earnestly to appear as the ‘perfect princess’, and in a way, she would succeed. Presenting her best foot forward when in the eyes of the court, always prim and proper, but Aemond knew that deep inside, there was fire burning recklessly in her— a fire that was inherent in their blood, but she tried to diminish. 

“It is not wise to lurk these halls at night,” Aemond drawled as he purposefully waited for the girl in the dark. “I am not one to lurk, uncle; that is your specialty if I remember correctly.” Eraena sighed, her tone laced with indifference. The prince’s jaw ticked at her tone. How could she be so obliging and enthusiastic in Aegon’s presence yet be so disinterested in him? He recalled how she did not even recoil when she placed her touch upon his brother’s back, yet somehow be so disgusted when Aemond had sat with her in the library earlier that day. 

Aemond had not even realized that their conversation was quick to turn into an argument—an argument that had erased all of Aemond’s manners and sensibilities. His irritation had gotten the best of him, and he had resorted to what he knew best: violence. 

The prince recoiled in guilt, his mind filled with tear-brimmed obsidian eyes looking at him with horror. The image haunted him in the night and even in broad daylight. He… did not know what he had done or why he had done such actions. “Have you seen Eraena?” His sister’s soft voice asked as she entered their mother’s chambers, where luncheon was held for the queen and all her children. With the mention of the princess he had hurt, his heart dropped. He had expected that Daemon Targaryen would have come for his head in the dead of the night. Vaemond’s head was cut from him with just a few vile words uttered to his wife; what else would he do when he found that Aemond had laid a hand on his daughter? 

“I cannot say I have,” The queen replied as Helaena took her seat. “I— I had wished to have tea with her once more.” The silver princess mumbled. “She was not with her brothers or sisters,” Aegon said, and Aemond raised his brow. Was he observing others now? He was usually too drunk to notice anything. “Perhaps you’ll see the princess at supper; we are all to attend, understood?” The queen gave no room for her children to back away from another obligatory dinner for their decaying father to enjoy the image of a complete family. 

“A—Aemond,” Eraena’s desperate voice echoed through his mind. The prince froze from his sparring with Criston as the image of her clawing at his hand flashed before him. The boy took a look at his shaking hand. “What happened there?” Criston asked as he saw the scratches that Eraena had made. “Nothing,” the prince said quickly, hid his hand from the knight’s view, and continued to train. 

“Have you seen sister? She has not left her room the whole day,” The prince heard the worried voice of Lucerys from the side. “I heard her handmaid tell Mother that she did not feel well,” Jacaerys shrugged and inspected a blade. “Will she be able to join the hunt tomorrow?” “I should hope so,” The prince shook his, trying to get rid of the image of a fear-struck princess. What transpired last night was not entirely his fault! Eraena was the one to spew the insult; he was defending himself. Defending yourself from what? A small girl who only had words for weapons? His mind countered and he was finding scarce reason to defend himself. 

When it was time for supper, the seat next to him remained empty. “Where is Princess Eraena?” His mother asked. “My daughter has not felt well the entire day, we thought it best she should stay in her chambers and rest in order for her to join tomorrow’s festivities,” Rhaenyra answered. Aemond’s eye flashed toward the girl’s sisters, who gave each other knowing looks. Do they know? The prince thought. If they knew, surely they would have told their father by now. The only thing that indicated Eraena had not said a thing was that Aemond still held his life. That night, alike the previous night, guilt gnawed at the prince. You must apologize! His conscience screamed the obvious. Should he head to the east wing, knock upon her chamber door, and ask the girl for her forgiveness at this instant? The prince laid still and made no such movement to apologize, but even in sleep, the fear-filled obsidian eyes still haunted him. 

The day of the hunt came. Each member of the royal family was present, even the decaying king. Aemond stood by one side of the tent, and his lone eye searched for a girl with dark brown locks. “Joff, no more cake!” He heard a scolding voice to his left and finally saw the girl trying to pry away a platter of cake from her younger brother. A lilac eye flew to the girl’s neck, and she grimaced at the sight. She had done well to mask it, but Aemond could see through the cracks the imprint his hand had left. Why had she not told on me? He thought. The prince caught Eraena’s eyes; he felt sick of himself when he saw the same fear in her obsidian orbs. Like always, Eraena quickly looked away from him. Hurriedly stepping out of the tent, letting her brother have his cake. 

Aemond sighed, and before he even realized it, he had followed the girl out. His eye watched as Eraena took shadowed paths away from the tent. “Aemond,” the hand called out. “Where is your brother?” He asked, and the prince shrugged. “Most probably getting drunk in the corner.” He said and returned his eye to the girl who ventured farther away from where he stood. “Keep a close eye on him, or better yet, accompany him and make sure he does not drown in his cups once more.”  Aemond clenched his jaw. Is this his permanent role in this family? Having been the one to save Aegon from his cups and whores? He gave a curt nod and his grandfather gave him a clap on the back before leaving. 

His eye searched for his brother, and he was quick to spot silver hair next to dark ones. An impish smirk on his brother’s lips. Aemond took long strides towards the two, as per his grandfather’s command, to watch over his drunkard brother. When he neared, his brows furrowed as he heard a laugh coming from Eraena’s lips. How did Aegon manage to make her laugh? “Ah, brother,” the eldest prince greeted, and almost immediately, the mirth in Eraena left. Eyes shifted to avoid him, “I—I should find my sisters,” the girl mumbled and quickly stepped away from her two uncles. Aegon stared at the departing girl with a frown. “What is it?” He asked, “Grandfather told me to watch you,” he said. “As if I am a child,” Aegon rolled his eyes and walked with his brother. “You certainly act like one,” 

The elder prince scoffed. “A child does not fuck and drink as I do,” he replied. “That is not something to boast about, brother.” Aemond’s voice was hard and cold, just like it always was.  They had walked around the camp, Aemond counting as to how many cups his brother had, it was now seven. When they arrived back at the tent, their sister was accompanied by the three daughters of Daemon Targaryen, a rare smile on her lips. Most of the men had left in search of the stag. Aemond had no want to hunt for the creature, and his brother would rather stay in the comforts of the camp, surrounded by food, wine, shade, and pretty princesses. 

Aemond’s eye trailed the dark-haired girl as she stood and headed to the tables of sweets. Eraena eyed the delicacies and spent a while trying to choose which one to take. That is when he realized that Aegon had moved from his side and strode over to the girl, cutting a piece of cream and berries cake. The frown on the one-eyed prince returned as the girl gave a small smile to his brother. He watched their interaction for a moment; the girl did not steal her eyes away from Aegon, no obvious sign of contempt on her face, and did not run when he neared. Did she like Aegon? His mind wondered. Why didn’t she think him vile? Why did she only hold contempt for him? Aegon did not almost strangle her to death. His mind reminded him. 

Aemond made his way to stand with his brother once more. Gritting his teeth as the girl quickly left, Aegon turned to him with suspicion and accusation. “You’re scaring Eraena,” His brother observed, and Aemond scoffed. Cowardly Bastard. He thought once more, but this time, Eraena did have reason to fear him. “I do no such thing,” Aemond said, and his brother shook his head. “You clearly are… what have you done?” He asked. “You had clearly done something to have her bolt every time you come near.” “I have not done anything,” Aemond gritted out, eyes flying to the floor, a habit of his when he lies. “Hm,” his brother hummed. 

After an uneventful hunt, they returned to the walls of the keep the following day. After another restless night with guilt eating away at him, Aemond had enough. The prince swallowed his pride and thought of ways to apologize to the princess. He skipped his training with Criston to create a plan to catch a fleeing princess. Aemond walked through the keep, hands folded behind him. Good ideas often came to him when he stalked the halls of the castle. He walked past the godswood, watching as the auburn leaves fell to the ground. The prince was ready to pass the tree and continue on his walk but froze when he caught the whiff of lavender in the air, and the low humming of a tune reached his ears. 

Aemond focused upon the trunk of the Weirwood tree and saw purple skirts by its base. The prince took silent and cautious steps and saw as a princess rested her back against the tree, charcoal in her fingers and pieces of parchment on her lap. Upon feeling his presence, Eraena’s gaze turned to him. There it was again, the fear in her eyes. Eraena scrambled to gather her things and flee away. “Eraena, wait,” Aemond called out, but she was quick to flee from him. The prince sighed and pursued the girl, taking hold of her arm, a gentle hold. 

Remorse filled Aemond as he had her near him. “I—“ Aemond began, but the words died on his lips. “I’m… I,” He tried once more, but he could not let the words pass. “Eraena? Aemond?” A questioning voice called, and the two turned to Daemon, making his way to where they stood. Eraena quickly took her arm away from the prince’s hold. Daemon looked at the prince with calculating eyes; he saw distress in obsidian orbs, however hard she tried to hide it. “I hope for your benefit that you are not disturbing my daughter,” the rogue prince told his nephew. “He—he’s not father,” Eraena quickly replied for the prince. Aemond’s dread and remorse deepened; he had hurt the girl, but why was she hiding and even defending him? You should be thankful. His mind scolded. Daemon looked unconvinced, but he nodded and offered his arm for his daughter to take. The one-eyed prince watched as the two departed, unable to say his apology to the princess. 

[mashiraostail]

Plleeassee 'you can sit on my lap' with Halsin PLEASEEE

ur wish is my command I did SFW bc it felt right but lemme no if u want different :3

It was always the same, which was sort of what annoyed you. It's not that your day to day fights had been particularly hard it was just the constant bumps and scrapes and bruises that weighed you down. Never enough damage to justify wasting healing magic, but just enough that you were uncomfortable in your day to day. You left some wounds to heal even once you're back at camp, preferring to let the others get fixed up before you. Today you could feel the itchy irritation of a cut healing over, right across the bridge of your nose. It was a constant bother, like a bug flying around your face, a tickle that would not subside no matter which way you scrunched your nose up.

"This city air isn't doing anything for me either." You feel Halsin's hand come down on your shoulder, heavy and warm. For a moment you were confused, you'd not complained at all since setting off for the day, then you realized your discomfort may be less subtle than you thought.

"Oh..." You wave, "who am I to complain?" You did enjoy Halsin, well perhaps more than enjoy.... given your late night trysts. Though he was still unfamiliar to you in some ways, and lacking a formal name for what the two of you shared often left you uncertain in your day to day with him.

"Please, I think this city would benefit from some complaining." He looks down at you, "I thought I was the only one."

"No..no.." You resist the urge to peel the scab over the bridge of your nose away, you were certain you'd start gushing blood all over, which given your current location made no sense at all. It had actually been a rather tame day so far, and it was already almost over.

"I think even the most dedicated Baldurians have it in them to complain about the smell from time to time." You give in, and start to chip away at the corner of the scab closest to your tear duct.

Halsin just laughs, "I see, well I suppose it's good to know I'm not alone..." He removes his hand from your shoulder and looks around a bit as you walk, though he stays close to you.

You can't help but hiss at the feeling of your skin peeling back, beyond the first wound, you supposed that was karma for picking it.

"Are you alright?" Halsin turns over his shoulder at you, "I heard you-" He looks down at your hand by your nose, "leave that alone." He bats your hand away, "you should have let me clean it up days ago, see now? You've made it worse."

"It's itchy." You rub the bridge of your nose for emphasis, "and I can't help it. I've always picked at my scabs, where do you think all these cool scars came from?"

"I can't say I doubt that. But still, this city is dirty, it's best to not bare an open wound to this kind of air." He procures a small cloth and dabs at the blood as it appears, "it's good you didn't peel open this whole thing, and it's a wonder you've not complained till now."

You can't help but flush at the attention, if anyone with you notices they spare you, "I'm alright, I've dealt with much worse."

"I'm sure you have, but there's no need with me around.... To tell you the truth," He dabs the small cloth with his tongue and wipes the dirt and grime away from the edges of the newly opened flesh, "I enjoy doting on you."

You look down at your boots to avoid looking at him, you can feel your ears burning.

"It's hard to see the damage out here, do you think you can hold out till we set up camp for the day?"

"Of course-" You swallow your embarrassment, "I'm okay like this, I'll live."

"Oh I hope so." Halsin is smiling at you, "who knows what I would do otherwise." He hands you the cloth, "keep this, incase it bleeds anymore."

"Thank you." You look up at him, "you've been a big help."

"Don't thank me, just.." He guides your hand holding the cloth up to your nose, and uses it to cover the wound, "keep it clean until we settle in for the night." You can only nod up at him.

True to your word you do keep your wound covered in the cloth for the rest of your journey that day. It was a long one, boring too. As much as the little battles left you irate, a boring day of gathering information and talking to every no name on the street was equally irksome.

When you get back to camp Halsin seems busy with Gale, who despite his best efforts is always the most banged up by the end of the day. You almost feel bad for him, until you see him bright and pristine every morning. So you sit by the fire, content on sharpening a stick into some sort of miniature spear, humming to yourself.

When Halsin finds you all of the dark bark has been scraped off the stick leaving it white and brittle looking.

"You hide in plain sight you know?" He offers you a hand and you take it, allowing him to hoist you up to your feet.

"It's one of my many talents." You toss the sharpened stick down, "how's Gale?"

"He's fine, I apologize, I should have come to you first."

"No," You laugh, "I'm sure he needed it more than me. You're here now."

"I am." He smiles at that, wider than you'd ever previously given yourself credit for, "come, let me see." He waves you closer and leans down toward you.

Once you've closed most of the gap you feel his eyes wander beyond the gash over your nose, down to your neck and collarbones, all to way to your wrists.

"Now that we're close like this...when was the last time you've been healed? Has Jaheria been taking up the job in my stead?" He seems almost offended at the thought.

"No-" You shake your head, "No, I've been mostly alright."

"Alright? You're practically covered in cuts and bruises- let's go someplace more private, you should have a once over." He guides you with a hand sprawled out between your shoulder blades, not leaving room for protest.

"You should have come to me sooner." He breaks the silence once you're away from camp, surrounded by trees and brush.

"You're always helping the others, I'm used to this, I'd rather they get what they need." You insist, gesturing vaguely to yourself.

"You can all have what you need." Halsin seems perplexed, "there's more than enough healing magic to go around, you don't have to worry about that."

"well it must be exhausting, constantly casting spells, you're always taking care of the others, what about you?"

"What about me?" Halsin tilts his head at you quizzically, "I'm alright too."

"Well who takes care of you?"

"When you live as long as I have," He starts tending to some of the smaller cuts on your arms, "you learn to take care of yourself. It comes with time."

"That's not fair." You frown, "everyone relies on you. It must be a heavy weight, especially with no one to lean on, or to rely on to care for you."

"You." Halsin sits on an old stump, "I have you. We care for each other....unless I'm mistaken."

"You're not." You allow him to turn you around, inspect you every which way for any major damage left untended.

"Good. Come here." He waves you into him but you stand, flushed and confused before him.

"Here." He gestures again, "you can sit in my lap."

Nervously you do, slotting yourself against him. It hadn't been many times but you'd sought his company before, and the feeling of his large hand cupped around you thigh was welcome, almost calming. It doesn't take very much magic at all to get you right again, and you're glad to accept it, at this point the constant discomfort was bordering on pain.

"You must be exhausted, they were small injuries but they were plenty, it must have worn on you." His hand spreads over the small of your back, "I meant what I said before." On his lap it's much easier for him to rest his head against your chest, you feel his hair tickling the side of your neck as he does.

"I enjoy caring for you, perhaps it's self serving, but please allow me the pleasure of it more often."

"I wasn't sure-" You flush at the sudden tenderness, it wasn't brand new, nor was it unwelcome, but it was still fresh, still took getting used to. "I didn't want to burden you."

"Be sure now." He picks his head up, "you're more than asset to hinder or help me me.... and certainly more than a friend." He spares a glance down to your hand, where it has wrapped around his bicep. "Don't be modest, when you ask for me, I'm happy to go to you. If I can bring you any comfort on the road ahead, then I'd be honored to."

"Thank you, Halsin." You rest your hand on the side of his neck and he hums at the feeling, glancing between your bodies then back to your face.

"You don't need to thank me," His hand slides along the divot of your spine, a soft touch made firm by the rough skin of his palms, "just come to me, whenever you need, even when you don't need to, but only want to. I do miss you after our nights together. I'd take comfort in knowing you feel the same."

"I do.." You nod, "I just hate to steal you away when the others-"

"Steal me away all you like," He laughs, "Gods, that sounds heavenly. I'm sure the others can manage a few hours." He kisses you for the first time that day. Which wasn't unusual, often he waited for more private moments to voice and show his affections, it was welcome and warm and you were glad to be on the receiving end of his affections.

"And knowing you feel the same is all the better." He wraps his arms around you in a bear hug perfectly fitting of the man giving it.

"I'm grateful to have spent this time enjoying you." He takes a deep breath, like he's trying to get as much of your scent as possible.

"Can we stay for a bit? Like this?" You pull back and pin away a stray strand of his hair, his chest huffs with a light airy chuckle as he nods.

"Of course, but you'll have to tear me away when you're done. I fear I won't want to go anywhere once I've settled down with you on me like this."

He resumes his bear hugging and despite the tightness of the hug, and the closeness of your bodies you don't feel cramped at all.