#and finally got it out of my brain where its been floating

[onelittlespiral]

FML: Urged

I think this was the photo that got me in. Of course I get the appeal now. But at the time I thought I was just messaging some other random torso on the apps. I was supposed to just be in and out, no strings attached. After all, he wasn’t my usual type. Looked like a roided out gym rat: bit of a gut; dark, wiry hair; and thick muscles. But muscles weren’t the thickest thing about him, and who was I to pass up a good time?

So I went over to his place. I wasn’t surprised when it was a loft above a small gym. Seemed like the ideal spot for the kind of guy. What I was not expecting was the apartment itself to be so…nice? Normal? I was prepared to get fucked on a twin-sized mattress on the floor, no frame, with sweaty clothes rotting around me. But the apartment had some character. He even offered me something to drink before we got started, in an actual glass. Maybe I needed to raise my standards. We chatted, flirted a bit as I finished my water and let things get hot from there. We kissed in the kitchen, made out in the living room, and worked our way back to his bedroom as sweatshirts, belts, shirts, pants, and straps trailed behind us.

As I positioned a pillow under myself, he took off his wife beater, the last barrier between us. The shirtless torso that seduced me was on full display as I rubbed his chest. As he leaned in to kiss me, I felt engulfed by this bear of a man, skin electric where I felt his hair ticking my bare chest. My senses felt heightened as I tasted cheap beer on his breath and smelled a deep musk of sweat, cum, and Old Spice, more in line with what I had expected from him. He ran his calloused hands over my chest and abs before finally taking up position over my trembling body. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t felt since I was a teen. Normally I would want to talk a bit more, at least give a safe word. But as he surrounded me and I felt his presence, my brain flipped a switch as my body instinctively relaxed for him. There were no thoughts to be had as my mind was consumed by his rich scent, the pleasure of his cock slowly stretching out my ass, and his intense gaze set on my fluttering eyes. At last I felt his bush pressed against my clenching ass. He lingered for just a moment, every throb of his member sending shivers through my body. He leaned in and whispered, “You feeling good, baby?”

I could only moan a bit in response. Feeling his weight bear down on me and his cock in my ass left no room for words. He shoved his pit in my face and I instinctively took a deep huff. Any resistance and tension left in my body released. I felt filled by him, just a vessel for his use. I was about to stick out my tongue when he pulled back and repositioned himself. He held my shoulders as he began moving his hips.

As he slowly began to fuck me, I felt him reach new depths within myself.

“There you go, much better. Let yourself just float”

I couldn’t resist him even if I wanted to. His cock methodically jackhammering my hole had my body riding wave after wave of pleasure. Then, I felt him tense up a bit as his cock swelled just a bit more telling me what was to come. He buried it deep as a pressure built within myself. A few more thrust from him and I shot my load over his furry chest. My mind could no longer handle it. I slipped off into a void of pure bliss, as this stranger collapsed on top of me, feeling his damp fur against my body and filling my senses once again with his musk.

I woke up the next day back in my own bedroom. No one else around. No signs of trouble. No clue how I got back. If the whole experience hadn’t been so vivid, I would have thought I dreamt the whole thing. But as I rolled myself out of bed and into the bathroom, one change became very clear.

Seemingly overnight I had lost my smooth skin and dirty blonde curls. In its place was hair. Thick, dark, course hair. It covered my chest, my arms, my back, even my crotch. I was shocked but, also, something else began to tickle at my brain. I took off my tank to get a better look at the forest. I flexed my muscles and admired the way it coated my chest and seemed to exaggerate its size. I hit a double bicep pose and smelled a familiar scent. The scent of sweat and heat and masculinity. My mind flooded with images of that night as my cock stood at attention. I shoved my face into my own pit as I bagan jacking off in front of the mirror, admiring my new body. It felt strange but satisfying, watching this stranger in the mirror mimic my every move as I lusted for him. I didn’t realize how far I had gone until I saw the stream hitting the mirror. It was hot, but something still didn’t feel right. As I cleaned up the restroom, I picked up my razor and considered cleaning myself up a bit. But as I lifted it to my face, I noticed my newly hairy pits. Exposing them, the scent of last night invaded my mind again and I couldn’t follow through. I finished getting dressed and I left for the day. With a busy schedule, maybe I could get some answers tomorrow. I think that was the last chance I had to do something, divert from the path laid out for me. But looking back, I don’t know if I would have changed a thing.

No day was as sharp a change as the first, but each morning as I looked myself in the mirror, something was a bit different. Maybe it was the sharpness of my jaw. Or were my pecs always this swoll? One week I swore my feet were growing larger. There is no way that they always slapped the ground like that. But my shoes always fit perfectly. Heck I may even need a new pair soon. My joggers were beat up as hell and reeked when I took them off after my Saturday runs. But soon it was the days that I couldn’t find anything that looked different that began to worry me most. Had I always thought so much about the bodies of the men around me? Did people always talk so fast? But as life slipped back into routine. Soon I began to question myself. Why had I worried so much about any changes? Things never actually seemed out of place, and I worked out hard to get these gains. I had been going to the gym for years and had spent years perfecting my splits. After about two months, I stopped worrying at all. Until finally, one day I woke up and looked myself in the mirror, I saw the same man who greeted me for years.

I was a sweaty gym rat. Always had been. Always would be. I took a deep huff of my own funk, and rubbed my muscles. But everything fell into place, something felt missing. I shouldn’t have to keep this godly body and musk to myself. For the first time in a while, I hopped onto the apps and started scanning through. God, all these old matches were terrible. Why did I used to have such a thing for those muscled-up college boys? They couldn’t grow a beard if their lives depended on it. Besides, I think I wanted someone a little more…submissive. Scrolling through, my eyes caught on this young 20-something twink. Something about him reminded me of someone…someone I used to know. His lithe body, tight curls, and skimpy clothes told me he was a bottom before I clicked on his profile. A few messages back and forth, and he was on his way.

He walked in the door and it was all I could do to contain myself. Something deep within me wanted my seed deep in his ass. I needed him to worship me. I wanted him to become just like me. I had no patience as my body acted on instinct. I stripped my shirt and calmly approached, placing my hand against the wall behind him. As my masculinity and musk washed over the twink, I watched as his eyes fluttered a bit and knew his mind was submitting.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” I asked plainly.

“Ye-yes, sir.”

I grinned as I understood fully now just what had happened to me, and the power I held. But watching this twink practically trembling in front of me, maybe I was even better than my captor had been.

I gave him a quick kiss as I lead him to my bedroom. I couldn’t wait to make another man in my image.

[neiptune]

to hell with the stars, keep shooting for the moon

cw: 3k wc, female reader, established relationship, suggestive if you squint, reader is a gymnast, my entry for the super fun summer olympics collab by @tetzoro! hope you'll enjoy the little surprise i squeezed in hehe

“For the last time, I’m not having sex with you on one of those cardboard beds”.

Atsumu isn’t the least bit discouraged by your exasperated scowl, which is met with a pout.

“But babe-”

“I don’t care how many times Tobio’s done it, ‘Tsumu” you click your tongue.

“It’s just so fucking bizarre that he gets so much action, the guy doesn’t even do anything! Shoyo agrees, we discussed it and still couldn’t find a reason” the blond, excessively petulant Miya who makes it a point to be the bane of your existence, keeps listing all the reasons why he believes his teammate shouldn’t be getting laid in the olympic village. Or anywhere else ever, for the matter.

The heated arguments float through a distant hemisphere of your brain, where they dissolve before you can quite catch their meaning and soon enough become simple sounds you’re passively absorbing, thoughts too preoccupied with something entirely different.

The choreographies you put together with your trainer have been playing in the back of your mind ever since last night, after the all-around individual qualification round. You are part of the 10 gymnasts with the highest scores, four performances with each apparatus earning a fairly decent ranking and good enough points. Well, they’re certainly good enough, given that you get to represent Japan at the individual final. But you just know they could be better. Your feet should’ve been firmer, hands less sweaty around the clubs, you should’ve stretched for at least 50 minutes prior to the routine instead of the usual 40 ones.

Pulse picks up in pace, heart thrumming faster against your ribcage, dizziness clouds your mind for a moment as different moves chase each other in rapid succession: the penché comes first, then follows the elbow stand, front walkover, one forward roll, a chest stand-

Gentle, calloused fingers grasp your chin and tilt your head upwards in silent demand. Look at me.

“Get out of there and talk to me, sugar” the fondness in his chocolate gaze is a balm that instantly soothes the churning sensation sabotaging your stomach.

“I won’t make it” it’s blunt, raw in its honesty “I’m too scared”.

“Ya worked your ass off the past four years. Your entire life actually”.

“I know”.

“And whatever happens, you’re one of the best ten gymnasts in the world”.

“I know”.

Atsumu gets closer as his hands hold your face now, gentle but firm, an all too familiar flame starts dancing in feverish eyes.

“But?”.

You recognize that gaze, the raging, febrile determination taking over. He gets it on his side of the net, where he gets to run the show. And oh, isn’t that always a sight for sore eyes? It certainly was at the olympics too, when the entire world got to witness what Japan is already used to. The game against Argentina was nothing short of glorious, the way Atsumu coordinated his team’s offense, established the entire tempo and overall built the confidence in his passers had the crowds chanting his name over and over again. By the evening, you’re positive at least a hundred new Miya Atsumu fan accounts had started following you on instagram.

And yet he doesn’t take any of it for granted. Atsumu always gives his very best, at the olympics or during regular training with his friends. Whether Tobio is going to play or not. That passion simply sets his soul ablaze at all times, with no exception. He’s the man you love and the only one who can truly understand how you feel, the one person who is ignited with the same delirious resolve currently burning in the pit of your stomach.

“But I really want that fucking medal” you whisper. Not to prove him that you have it in you just like he does: truth is you’re the only person who needs additional convincing.

Sharp canines make their appearance when Atsumu smiles widely.

“Then go get it. The hell are you scared of? That medal belongs to you”.

Your eyelids flutter as they fall shut, a deep breath filling your lungs with fresh air. When you open your eyes again, you feel your heart filling up with something else too.

“I love you”.

His eyes soften at that, affection pools within crinkles by the eyes as a confident grin morphs into a warm smile.

“Love ya more, champion” Atsumu kisses your forehead with tenderness, lingers for a moment too long with lips pressing to your skin with intention. Then he lets go of your face but not before searching for any remnants of self-doubt. His chest swells with pride when all he can find in your eyes is that determination he adores.

“Will you be there?” you ask because you can’t help it. It’s perfectly understandable that he might not be able to, his schedule is just as busy as yours and Japan’s final game is just two days away. It’s not entirely fair to ask and someone else might’ve rolled their eyes with a sigh, reminded you that they don’t get to decide that. But not Atsumu. He takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips to kiss each knuckle.

“I’ll do everything I can to be there”.

“Thank you” you lightly pinch his nose with an infatuated smile and he fakes a groan “see you later”.

“I love you!” he shouts as you run away, loud and obnoxious and passionate, just like his affection always is. Once again, Atsumu’s love is thrown over your shoulders like a comforting blanket that weighs just right.

Back at the beginning of your relationship, you had to unlearn a very specific thought process that posed the risk of ending something that still hadn’t had the chance to fully start. It was your first time dating another pro athlete, a very talented and quite renowned one no less. You were first introduced to him at a party, he had no idea who you were but of course you were all too familiar with his name and accomplishments.

Miya Atsumu was a pro volleyball player, known for his exceptional flair and fierce passion ever since high school. His reputation made you believe that, as an athlete yourself, you had to prove him that you were just as good in your own sport. Wasn’t that all he’d be interested in? Dating someone who wouldn’t embarrass him with their mediocrity, someone who wouldn’t stain his polished reputation?

Turns out, by no means Atsumu was interested in all that. He asked if it was okay for him to come watch one of your competitions, coincidentally one of your worst ones. You were all too aware of how badly you had competed, nerves and a recent flu contributing to a terrible performance, yet at the end of it Atsumu greeted you with stars in his eyes. He couldn’t stop talking about how elegant yet strong you looked, going as far as describing your choreographies as breathtaking. With a nervous chuckle, he half-jokingly said he couldn’t believe you’d let him date you. 

That’s when you kissed him for the first time, fiery and feverish in a way that would’ve probably scared anyone else off. Not Atsumu, though. He wrapped his arms around you without so much as an ounce of hesitation, kissed you back like it was the last action he was allowed to perform on this earth. And you knew: he didn’t need you to be a winner, to be shiny at all times, to feel proud. To love you. Whether you end up bringing the medal home or not, he will still be your biggest fan and loudest supporter.

The intensity of the crowd doesn’t bother you at all: given your anxious nature, Chisaka-san has been adamant about training you with headphones and loud tapes for years. Music, cheers, booing, clapping, national anthems, you’re used to it all by now.

You observe the ukrainian gymnast, the way she moves so elegantly with her colorful ribbon. It looks like she’s flying, hopping on invisible steps made of air, sparkly leotard catching the light just right. Yours cost a fortune: handmade, sewn in Italy, a triumph of colorful stretch mesh, thermal crystals and sew-on rhinestones in various sizes and shapes.

As Chisaka-san helps you practice the usual deep breaths with a hand pressed to your chest, your eyes are still glued to your opponent. The podium is yours, unless you fuck up so badly even the bronze slips away. Daryna currently has the highest score and it’s certain she will protect the lead at the end of her final routine. Then follows Bulgaria’s Katerina, but you’re hardly worried about her: she finished her last exercise without catching the ribbon, a penalty you can easily overcome if luck and nerves are on your side.

When after an impeccable Daryna your name is announced at last, your trainer gives your butt a friendly, encouraging pat. She believed in you more than anyone else, more than yourself. She knew you’d qualify for the olympics and would be flying to Paris before you could even dream of such an achievement. And now you get to honor her trust, you get to prove that Paris is where you belong. The podium is yours because like hell you’re allowing it to slip away. But you want more, you want that gold.

The crowd seems louder now, flags raised in flashes of white and red in your peripheral as you smile radiantly and position yourself to start the routine. You don’t check if Atsumu was able to make it, don’t allow yourself to think of anything but the way your feet and legs and arms and hands are supposed to move.

The longest 85 seconds of your life begin along with the music, Piazzolla’s libertango but with a modern, energetic arrangement. The ribbon is not as scary as the hoop, it moves with you like an old friend, seamless and reliable. You throw the handle into the air and perform two forward rolls before catching it again in one fluid motion, lips perpetually stretched into a confident smile. The crowd erupts in deafening cheers at your backscale pivot, the more you keep cutting through the air with precision, control and passion, the more your smile grows. Yes, this is where you belong, this is what you love and were made to do.

There’s your signature move, difficult and risky and one Chisaka-san always attempts to talk you out of: a technical element, Bessonova’s swan, while simultaneously kicking the ribbon into the air with your foot once more. You catch it one last time, perform an aerial cartwheel and then a perfectly balanced backward somersault, wrap yourself in the colorful shades of your apparatus and gracefully conclude the routine on the floor.

The crowd is ear-splitting in their support and you don’t have to wait for the score to know: it was perfect. It’s the best you ever did and the tension finally melts into hot tears as you wave and smile and foolishly attempt to wipe the wetness from your cheeks at the same time. Chisaka-san wraps you up in her comforting embrace and you hide your face in her white uniform, ears ringing, blood scorching in veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“I can’t look” you whisper into her shoulder and she gently guides you to the bench, all emotional murmurs and soft touches. She sits next to you, holds your hand as you force a quivering smile to the camera, peace sign held high. And then you can barely catch a glimpse of your scores before Chisaka-san forces you into her arms and against her chest again, right as fresh tears stain your cheeks. She lets you have this moment, shields your first reaction from the world and the prying eyes of cameras that are on you once more because holy shit, Daryna has a 140.60 but you have a 142.850. They gave you a difficulty score of 19.300 and an execution one of 8.550.

“I knew it!” Chisaka-san is the only thing keeping you grounded because it truly feels as if you’re floating. It doesn’t matter how badly you wanted it, how much you fought for it, the moment doesn’t feel real. Not even as the other gymnasts come to hug you and you congratulate them in turn, it’s a whirlwind of all-encompassing love and support and mutual happiness. Moments like this make your sport truly special, they remind you that fierce competition only feels right when balanced by appreciation for your opponents’ efforts and individual journeys.

The crowd erupts in new, loud cheering and you catch a glimpse of the different face the cameras are now focusing on. A handsome face with suspicious dampness glistening on cheeks and a smile so warm, beaming with pride. You can’t help but smile back as your legs move on autopilot, a bottle of water dropped to the floor as you sprint towards the bleachers. Atsumu is in the front row and he easily catches you right as you jump onto him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Told ya. It belongs to you” he whispers in your ear and you almost start crying again at the trembling in his voice, so many overwhelming emotions swarming in your chest at once.

“Thank you for believing in me” you mutter and pull back to look at him, because even in a venue packed with people and cameras and journalists he still manages to be the brightest, the one thing you could look at forever without ever growing tired of it.

“Always” Atsumu grins, eyes glazed with defiant tears “you did so well. Look at ya, my girl’s an olympic medalist!”.

And because you know he won’t do it, god forbid he takes the most special moment of your life away from you, you kiss him. It’s brief, two pecks that linger just enough before he lets you go, urges you to go back out there and celebrate. You don’t care that videos of this moment are probably going to be flooding every social media platform in a matter of minutes, similarly to how Atsumu hardly gives a damn about all the phones and cameras he has in his face when he runs to you after a game, whether his team wins or not.

It’s hard not to tear up again as the japanese national anthem echoes through the building, so many people singing along as you stand on the podium you have dreamed of every single day of your life. You smile, proud and big, take selfies with the other two medalists and make sure you hug every single gymnast you come across goodbye before walking out of the venue, a promise to catch up with your trainer in the evening.

Atsumu waits for you outside, he doesn’t have any additional training left for the day and you want nothing more than to walk back to the village with him, lovesick smile growing in size when you spot him underneath the afternoon sun, golden light caught beautifully in that honey blond hair.

“There she comes, the girl of my dreams” he coos and you roll your eyes with affection “I hear she’s now the greatest gymnast in the world, too!”.

“Corny” you murmur against his lips as he pulls you in for a real kiss, one of those you’re never willing to give him in front of the cameras.

“About those cardboard beds…” it’s a faint whisper into his mouth but it’s enough for Atsumu to pick you up and twirl until you’re both laughing between kisses, until someone clearing their throat prompts you to abruptly pull back and force your feet onto the ground again.

When you turn around, the embarrassed smile quickly grows into a surprised grin. The stranger is looking back at you with the faintest hint of a smirk and Atsumu isn’t entirely sure he loves the way you take a tentative step toward him.

“Congrats. It was a good routine, not your best though”.

“Oh my god” you chuckle, astonished, and Atsumu is now certain he doesn’t enjoy watching you run to hug this weird, 6’1 stranger with dark hair and teal eyes. He definitely doesn’t enjoy the way the stranger wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I should’ve known you’d be here! How long has it been? Look at you, all grown up!” you let him go, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Too long” he concedes and if the stranger wasn’t still all caught up in old, familiar patterns of stubborn coldness, maybe he would be able to utter the truth about how much he’s missed one of his oldest friends.

“I missed you” as usual, you take it upon yourself to fill the spaces left empty by his obstinacy with warmth. His eyes soften and you smile again as you turn to look at your boyfriend.

“’Tsumu, c’mere!” you’re holding out a hand, an impatient invitation “come meet Rin!”

Atsumu is openly wary of your friend, one you’re obviously close enough to address by his first name. As he shakes his hand with a fake megawatt smile, Rin seems to be equally skeptical and does nothing to hide it.

“He’s your boyfriend?” he asks, briefly scanning Atsumu from head to toe with an openly dubious gaze “came all the way here just to support you?”

“Atsumu is a pro volleyball player, he’s in the national team just like you!”

“Volleyball, huh?” Rin cocks his head “doesn’t really interest me. I find it to be overrated”.

“I mean…”.

“And what would your sport be, Itoshi?” Atsumu can feel a vein throb on his forehead as he politely interrupts you.

“Soccer”.

“Oh!” a seemingly friendly laugh bubbles up from his throat but you recognize the petulant vibration to it “soccer! I think there’s only so long you can watch a player throw himself on the ground because he stubbed his toe on the grass or, I don’t know, try the same failed corner kick for the millionth time”.

You uncomfortably clear your throat and Rin directs his attention to you once more. Isn’t that what being a mature adult is all about? Ignoring pretentious assholes he doesn’t even know?

“I mean it, by the way. You deserve that gold more than anyone else I know”.

“C’mon, say it” you chuckle “I know you noticed”.

He mirrors your smile, pleased that the familiarity strengthened by years of friendship is still here.

“Barely catched that ribbon in the end, could’ve made that front walkover less stiff. Good job overall, though”.

Atsumu wants to punch him in the goddamn face, especially as you laugh once more.

“How come he’s so familiar with gymnastics?” he asks instead.

“Rin used to come watch my training sessions back in high school, although it’s insane to me that he still remembers!”.

“She never missed any of my trainings either” Rin smirks once more, gaze locked to the man in front of him.

“Speaking of!” you lightly smack his arm “when are you guys playing?”.

“Tomorrow. I can arrange special seats if you want”.

“Oh, I’d love to come! We should totally go, ‘Tsumu!”.

“Yeah, totally” Atsumu forces another smile onto his lips.

That night, as you’re cuddled against his chest on that infuriatingly uncomfortable cardboard bed, he believes it’s of the utmost importance to share the picture of you with an adorable smile and the medal around your neck as you stand proudly on that podium, followed by the two of you kissing right after your win.

miyatsumu the most hardworking person I know. my golden girl, now an olympic champion ❤️🥇

He thinks it’s a good caption and, as you softly snore in the quiet of the dark room, Atsumu also believes he’s in a mood good enough to decide not to block Shoyo on the spot after receiving his stupidly enthusiastic text about befriending some super nice dude on the national soccer team.

Whoever the hell Isagi Yoichi is anyway.

[galamalion]

꒰ა໒꒱ ‧₊˚ it hurts here, doctor!

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ʚɞ ⋆ summary﹕law’s neglect pisses you off, so you remind him what he’s missing.

⋆ * ˖ ⋆ warnings﹕smut, fingering, cunnilingus, groping, slight dry humping, slight medical kink

⤷ ⋆ * ˖ ʚɞ ⋆ pairing﹕trafalgar law x afab!reader

getting sick was something you never worried about aboard the polar tang. your captain was rather meticulous about cleanliness, checking crew members’ hands before supper to ensure they washed properly, inspecting every nook and cranny of the ship for dust and dirt, and scheduling each member for a checkup twice a month.

you looked forward to these appointments, as your lover had far too many responsibilities as captain. often you’d wake up without him by your side, rarely seeing him when you performed your daily tasks, and finally going to sleep alone in your shared quarters. his excuse was always the same: work.

he had papers to read, supplies to organize, a meeting with bepo over where to land next. he was always working.

but he couldn’t ignore you today. no, today was your appointment. he had to see you, to talk to you, to touch you. and you intended to milk this short hour for all it was worth.

you waltzed into law’s office, sitting on the exam table and trying to get comfortable despite the cold pathetic excuse for a cushion. you showed up five minutes earlier than him, deciding you needed time to muse over your plan. it’d been three days since you’d exchanged more than a few words with law. three days you’d slept alone in your bed, woke up alone, got ready alone, all while on a submarine just a couple feet apart from your lover.

as you bitterly mulled over your thoughts, law stepped through the door, disheveled and tired. the bags under his eyes were darker than usual, while the buttons of his shirt had been misplaced, clearly done up in a hurry. part of you felt guilty seeing him so unkempt, but a small part of you felt agitated, upset he hadn’t come to you for help or guidance. but you wouldn’t let this get to you.

“good morning, doctor,” you said curtly, staring him down.

“...good morning,” he rasped, voice strained by a lack of hydration and sleep.

his hoarse voice aroused something in you, instinctually crossing your legs. he stalked over to you, pulling up a chair as he sat down, perusing his clipboard.

“any concerns you’d like to bring up?” he asked politely without looking your way.

you wanted to throttle him, stare right into his silvery eyes, and demand he fuck you on this uncomfortable table. but that would be improper. you had to work him up for this, get him as hot and bothered as you were. remind him that you hadn’t been touched in three days, that he hadn’t been touched in three days.

“i’ve had a slight ache in my chest for a while. could you look at it?” you requested, unbuttoning your shirt quickly.

“alright, just point to the…” law stopped in his tracks, staring wide-eyed at your chest.

you could immediately tell that this was the moment law realized what he’d been forgetting. it was apparent on his now incredibly red face as his brain tried to keep up with his eyes.

“it’s in this general area,” you pointed to your left breast. “mind checking for any lumps?”

the entrance of your voice awoke law from his frozen state as he scrambled to resume the checkup.

“y- yes, of course,” he swiftly exclaimed.

he pulled out two latex gloves, sliding his fingers inside them. his firm, warm hand found its way to your breast, gently squeezing and massaging it, engrossed in his current task.

“here, doctor,” you offered, “i’ll make this easier.” you reached your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall into your lap.

law’s hand retracted from your breast, floating inches from your hardened nipple. All he could do was stare at your now completely bare boobs, sitting invitingly on your chest, begging to be played with.

“it wouldn’t hurt to check both of them,” you spoke, “y’know, just to be safe.”

large slender fingers returned to your chest, continuing to fondle and play with your breasts like it was the first time he had ever touched a pair. you’d think it was cute if not for your immense arousal.

you opened your mouth to instruct him further, but a pair of soft lips silenced you. law moved one of his hands to the back of your head, entangling his hand in your hair and assailing your mouth with his tongue. he was more repressed than you thought.

eventually, he pulled back, letting you gasp for air. his head rested in the crook of your neck as he panted quietly.

“i’m sorry,” he panted, clearly out of breath, “for ignoring you this week.”

“you’re making up for it now, aren’t you?” you purred.

your hands made their way to law’s poorly buttoned shirt and began undoing each one, exposing his muscular chest for your viewing pleasure. likewise, law’s fingers hooked your bottoms, pulling them down your legs. his mouth found its place on your neck, kissing and sucking on the tender skin.

law drove his hips against your own, letting you feel his bulge straining against his jeans.

“it’s been too long,” he murmured, moving his hands to cup your ass.

“show me what i’ve been missing,” you begged, feeling an electric jolt of pleasure course through your body. his groping was almost too much for you to handle, grinding against him in an attempt to create friction.

he obliged, removing his gloves and yanking your underwear down, and moving his slender fingers to your vagina, running them along your slit and up to your clit, gently rubbing it. you shuddered as his cold fingers stroked your clit, a quiet groan slipping past your lips. it didn’t help that law was still attacking your neck, laying hickey upon hickey on the sensitive skin.

“i’ve missed you so much, law,” you moaned, leaning further into his hand, desperate to feel any part of him inside you. your prayers were soon answered, as law’s fingers delved inside your wet cunt, curling deep inside you.

“right there!” you gasped as his fingers struck your sweet spot. you grasped his shoulders for support as your body began trembling. he still knew all your sweet spots, and though you hadn’t been apart for that long, it still touched you and sensually and deeply.

before you reached your climax, those beautiful fingers left your twitching cunt, leaving you empty and needy as law brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off. you intended to speak up about this poor excuse for edging, but law quickly revealed what he had planned, getting down on his knees and diving into your soaked pussy.

he alternated between sucking your clit and tongue-fucking your poor cunt, causing you to bite your lip to avoid alerting any passing crewmates.

“these walls are solid steel, princess,” law spoke up, taking a momentary break from feasting, “scream as loud as you want.”

with his express permission, you began moaning without care, rotating between crying out in pleasure and praising him for his handiwork. you could feel the coil building in your belly, so close to unraveling as law worked tirelessly on your aching cunt.

the pleasure became too much as your hands weaved between law’s hair and squeezed his locks, “law, ‘m gonna—!”

law said nothing, only squeezing your thighs and diving deeper between your legs. the corners of your vision slightly blurred, and your fingers clutched law’s hair even tighter, though he didn’t seem to mind. you leaned further into his face as your orgasm hit, pure chemical delight flowing through your body and demanding each muscle spasm until it finished. it didn’t help law refused to give your sex a break, only sucking harder on your clit.

you knew he’d be drenched after your orgasm, and as law ascended from your pussy, you could see the juices that stained his face. he grinned and looked you right in your eyes, licking the lingering cum away from his mouth. if you weren’t so worn out from that earth-shattering orgasm, you’d be raring to go again.

“i hope this apology was…adequate,” he muttered, panting heavily between your thighs.

“believe me,” you sighed blissfully, “it was perfect.”

the two of you hurriedly dressed before law’s next scheduled appointment, not wanting to risk being caught by the crew. checking the clock on the wall, you had a few minutes left, so you decided to help law button his shirt before he made a fool of himself.

once fully clothed, you sauntered to the door, sparing law—and his visible bulge—one final look.

“if you want to pick up where we left off,” you began, “i’ll be waiting in our bedroom tonight.”

after this little doctor’s visit, you knew in your heart that law wouldn’t be working any more late nights.

[buryustogether]

lilac - chapter 7

miguel o’hara x f!reader

wc: 5.3k

summary: the truth will always come to light.

warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, domestic life, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), mentions of murder/bodies, knife violence, angst, choking, kidnapping

author’s note: listened to am i dreaming while writing this and bawled

Two weeks later, you found yourself slipping into one of the private rooms at The Menagerie, feeling the thumping, thrumming music all the way from the floorboards through your feet and into your teeth. Your very heart seemed to shake with the vibrations. Your thin, sparkly cape-like train swayed behind you as you moved quietly into the room, brushing against your thighs as you locked the door.

“Hi, handsome,” you said to the customer sitting in the chair in the center of the room. The neon lights were too bright, too loud, like you were floating in a dream from another planet. “How are you doing tonight?”

Before you were able to turn around, to even get in another breath, the man was up behind you, his chest pressing into your back and his hands trailing down your sides. His breath fanned across your ear, your temple, your neck. You would have told the guy to back off if you didn’t recognize the low, even voice that spoke just inches from the shell of your ear.

“Good to know you greet all your customers the same way,” murmured Miguel from behind the painted porcelain spider mask. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as his hands slowly slipped up your front, edging along the underside of your breasts. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, thinking they were special.”

Your racing heart slowed its uneven tempo as you were unable to put down the grin set upon your lips. You turned your head ever so slightly so that you were able to see a sliver of his wide, massive frame hulking over yours behind you. Moving upon their own accord, your hands reached up to rest over his where they sat on your stomach. Then you tugged his palms up so that they cupped your breasts through the flimsy fabric of your monarch costume.

“If you wanted me to touch you,” you said, just audible over the beat enveloping you both even here in the private room, “you could have just waited until I got home.”

“Hmm - but where’s the fun in that?”

Finally turning around, you smiled and reached up to nudge the spider mask over Miguel’s face. Those features of his - those beautiful, rugged, wonderful features of his - were bathed in the neon from the lights as you pulled it off his head entirely. His smirk was predatorial, hungry and eager to start the hunt for what he was after. You pushed against his chest, backing him up across the room because suddenly the roles had changed, and when he sat back in the chair to stare up at you, he knew it.

“The fun in that,” you said as you sank down to your knees before him, “is that you get to moan my name as loud as you want at home.”

This was how it had gone for these past two weeks, and that was how it went for the next one, as well. Pure bliss clouded your mind like a fog that refused to go away. Even if you wanted it gone, you couldn’t have gotten rid of it. Your brain was partially blind to the world around you as you went about your life as if you weren’t dating Miguel O’Hara, as if you weren’t housing Spiderman in your shitty little apartment, as if your world hadn’t been uprooted for the absolute better.

It went like this even when you called up the school at the beginning of the third week, reaching out to the front desk ladies who always did crosswords and snapped bubble gum instead of actually doing their jobs.

One of them picked up on the fourth ring. “Washington Elementary, this is Janice at the front desk.”

“Hey, Janice,” you said as you leaned over the countertop of your kitchen. A small cry attempted to escape you, but you were successful in keeping it down. “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I need to use - hmm! - a couple of my vacation days I have saved up. I-I’m going out of town for the week and I won’t be back… back until next Monday.”

The front desk lady was typing away on that ancient computer of hers with those tacky nails, though you were barely able to hear it over the racing and thundering of your heart in your ears. “Alright,” she drawled in a voice that was way too slow for you. “Did you have a particular substitute in mind?”

You pressed your lips together until they ached as you pressed further up against the counter, practically folded over it at this point. “Nope,” you said, your tone strained and tight. “Any will do. And thanks! See you next week.”

“Wait-”

You clicked your phone off and sent it skidding further down the kitchen countertop, finally able to release the long, strangled cry that you had been holding in the entire call. The long, thick cock buried inside your sopping cunt had been shallowly bucking into you while you talked, and the wide, calloused hand pressing you by your upper back into the counter hadn’t helped, either.

You exhaled a pant and whimpered in pleasure as the man behind you leaned over your smaller form, his warmth pressing up against you. “Good girl,” Miguel murmured against the shell of your ear, then bit it gently with the tips of his fangs. “I told you you could stay quiet for me.”

Days were spent lounging around the apartment, recovering from the throbbing ache the previous day’s (or, oftentimes, that morning’s) sweaty, heated session had left you with between your thighs. You would tidy up your home or run errands, always anticipating the soft sound from your bedroom of the window being rolled up and the near-silent noises of Spiderman crawling in from the fire escape. Afternoons you would spend bent over the nearest surface - the counter, the arm of the couch, the bed, the coffee table. He didn’t care, and neither did you. And the evenings were spent with dinner with your new little family, or out at late night soccer games flooded with light from the torches over the field. No matter where you were, whether it was his leg pressed against yours or his hand slid into your back pocket or just his hand atop yours, Miguel was always touching you.

It felt like a dream. It felt like maybe you’d died and gone to heaven, because, really, life in this smog-ridden, violet-colored sky couldn’t be this good. It shouldn’t have felt this good.

And, of course, because all things must come to a close, an end, a stop - this dream did.

It was late in an afternoon, when the sky outside had just finished painting itself with the dull colors of sunset, that you found yourself folding laundry in the living room and watching the news on your television. Unconsciously, because you had been doing this for nearly three weeks now, you made three stacks of the clean clothes; yours, Gabriella’s, and Miguel’s. His and yours were set aside to go back to the bedroom. Hers would stay out here and be stored in the drawers of your shelves; if the O’Haras were going to be staying with you for much longer - which you really, really hoped they did - you were going to need a bigger apartment. Gabriella needed her own room. And you and Miguel… you needed a bedroom with thicker walls.

You’d decided to wear one of his favorite dresses - a short, pink little number - in anticipation for when he retired from patrolling the city this afternoon. He intended, as he’d told you this morning before you both got out of bed, to come home, fuck you until you saw stars, have dinner, then go back out again for a night watch.

And you had no problem with that.

You’d just reached down to grab a shirt from your basket when there came a knock on your front door. Not gentle, but not unfriendly, either. Standing straight and turning the television down a few levels, you silently padded across the apartment and stood on your tiptoes to raise yourself to look through the peephole. The multiple golden locks glinted to your right.

You’d expected to find a neighbor asking for a favor, or maybe girl scouts selling cookies for their little fundraisers. Hell, even your landlord coming to ask if the new additions to your apartment would be staying permanently, and if so, demanding more rent. But instead, you found three people you had not seen before. They were an odd little trio, one that made you take a second glance after you had scanned them all over once.

The one who had knocked on your door was a woman with dark skin and large, round glasses with tinted lenses sitting on her nose. One of her hands, the wrist decorated with bangles and other bracelets, protectively held the massive bump on her stomach; she looked ready to pop and have her kid any day. On her left was a boy that looked no older than twenty; he, too, was dark-skinned, with dreads that stuck out like a halo and multiple rings affixed to his nose, his brow, his ears… Eyeliner had been applied to his lids, and across his back was a sleek-looking electric guitar. And on the woman’s left was a middle-aged man in a fluffy bathrobe, busy adjusting the baby carrier strapped across his front. The toddler inside giggled and attempted to paw at his fingers.

Your first thought was that they were just a strange-looking family, maybe asking for directions or hoping for some charity. But if that was the case… why had they come up to your floor?

Taking a breath, you unlocked your door and swung it open. The trio looked up - including the red-haired baby - and they all seemed to do a double-take on you, as well. The man’s lips parted in surprise. The teenager quirked an amused smile. And the woman pressed her lips together in a sense that said she saw something she didn’t like.

“Now we know why the bloke’s stayin’ ‘round here,” said the boy in a thick English accent.

Blinking a few times, you nervously folded your hands over your stomach and put on your best smile. “Hi,” you said to the tiny group. “Can I help you at all?”

The woman - who had visibly composed herself - returned your smile and straightened herself out. “Sorry to bother you,” she said in an apologetic way that, if you thought you heard right, sounded more on edge than anything else. “We’re looking for Miguel O’Hara; he’s a friend of ours. Does he live anywhere around here?”

For a brief moment, you flashed back to that day at Alchemax, when you’d overheard Lyla the defective AI talking to Miguel about spending time with friends. Were these the friends she’d been speaking of? Fuck, you suddenly wished you remembered their names. “He lives here, actually,” you said, then stepped aside to welcome them in. “Would you like to come inside? He’s out… running a few errands, but he should be back any time now.”

One by one they filed into your apartment, practically filling the little kitchen your front door opened into. The boy hopped up on your kitchen counter, adjusting his guitar strap across his chest and spreading his legs out to take up space.

You introduced yourself to them, told them your name. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you said, eyeing the strange little trio as they took in your apartment. Suddenly you felt like you were being held under a microscope; they were examining your decor, the pictures on your walls, the half-finished stack of laundry still sitting on the couch. You guessed you’d expected Miguel to have more… plausible friends. Other scientists at Alchemax. Fellow single fathers. Not a stylish pregnant woman with something against you, a manspreading teenager who was leaning back on his hands on your damn counter, and a middle aged man cooing at a toddler strapped to his chest.

“No, we’re fine,” said the woman.

“Actually,” said the man, earning himself a swift glare from his companion, “do you have anything sweet lying around? She just had lunch, and she gets fussy if she doesn’t have the dessert I promised.” He gestured to the red haired little girl sitting in her carry-on seat, staring up at her father with large, wide eyes.

“Peter, stop it,” hissed the woman.

Shaking your head, partially to dismiss the strangeness of the whole situation, you stood up on your tiptoes and began to search through your cupboards for something sweet; you’d been keeping a lot more treats around since Gabriella had moved in. “No, it’s okay,” you said as you handed the box to Peter, who gasped dramatically for the sake of his baby. “I need to get rid of these anyway.”

You stood back against the sink, feeling awkward in your own home as the strangers waited. Clearing your throat and attempting to look busy folding a dish towel, you said, “So… how did you guys meet Miguel? He hasn’t really talked about his friends much… at all, to be honest. I kind of thought he was more of a lone wolf.”

“Hah!” the boy on your counter barked out a laugh. “That he is, love.”

“We work with him,” said the woman. She reached up to adjust her tinted glasses, and it was then that you noticed she wore a silver band around her wrist with some kind of orange interface - a watch of some kind? You peeked at the other two, and realized they wore them, as well.

“Really?” you said, tilting your head and forcing yourself to smile. You glanced at the boy. “No offense, but… I didn’t think Alchemax would hire anyone so young. Are you an intern?”

“They wish,” he replied and crossed his ankle over his other leg. He wore bright teal sneakers, one sporting yellow laces and the other, blue. “Don’t think some stuffy, thieving corporation like that could handle me even if they tried.”

Peter scoffed and rolled his eyes, in the process of breaking up cookies to give the toddler against his front. “Sure, Hobie,” he snickered. “That’s why.”

“He told you he works at Alchemax?” said the woman, who had come closer to you than you realized until she was just feet away. You were able to see her eyes through her shades - almond-cut and heavy-lidded, those brown irises filled with an emotion that you could not place. It intimidated you slightly, and you wanted to look away, but her words brought an unfamiliar sense of unease slowly rolling through you.

“I… yes?” you said, wringing the towel in your hands now. “He does work there. I’ve - I’ve been to his office before. He’s a geneticist.”

“Jessica…” said Peter in a voice that sounded akin to a warning.

Jessica’s lips had pursed into a thin line, one that set a line at the corner of her mouth. You backed further against the sink. “Do us a favor and call him,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a favor, and more of a demand. “We really need to speak to him.”

Swallowing thick and steeling your heart, because no longer did you refuse to be ordered around in your own home, you set down the rag and stood straight again. “I think it would be best if you all left,” you said, looking around at the three. “I’ll tell Miguel you dropped by.”

Then, like they were a pack of animals all sensing something you could not - even the damned baby - they all turned their heads in the direction of your bedroom. Their eyes were focused, all other movements ceased. It was one of the strangest things you had ever seen. Then, finally, you heard it, too - the sound of your window being opened, of a heavy weight vaulting inside and landing on the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

“Perfect timing,” said Jessica, and a film of goosebumps trailed over your skin.

For a long, agonizing few moments, you all stood perfectly still, waiting for Miguel to appear from the bedroom. The only sound was the television still playing the news and the soft cooing of the baby against Peter’s chest as she continued devouring cookies.

Feeling your heart racing in your chest, listening to it thunder and roll in your ears, you took a breath and called, “Mig?”

His reply came from the bedroom just a moment later. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah.” You turned a wary gaze to the strangers standing in your kitchen, wringing your hands, now. “Could - could you come here, please? Now?”

He must have sensed the slight waver in your voice, maybe he smelled your nerves in the air - he seemed to have been fine tuned into your senses now - because at once, the bedroom door opened and his careful, mindful footsteps tread down the hall. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him enter the room still in his suit, his hair mussed from having just deactivated his mask. When he laid eyes on the intruders cornering you in the kitchen, he stopped solidly in his tracks.

“There’s the man of the hour,” said Hobie, then lay back entirely across the counter to grin at your boyfriend upside down. “Fancy catchin’ you here, ain’t it?”

Miguel stared hard at the teenager, his chest rising and caving in an uneven pattern and fists clenched at his sides. “Get down,” he ordered in a low, frightening voice that told you at once - these were not his friends. “Now.”

“Miguel,” said Jessica as she crossed the kitchen to meet him. “We seriously need to talk about this.”

“About what?” he snapped.

She pulled an expression that screamed this was not the first time they had talked about this. One hand resting on her swollen belly, she raised the other to gesture around your apartment. It threw your heart out of tandem. “About this. What are you doing, O’Hara? This - this is insane. I don’t know what kind of screw came loose in that brain of yours, but you’ve completely lost it.”

You had no idea what they were talking about. For a moment, you thought she was speaking about your relationship with Miguel. Then a moment became seconds. What was happening? Who were these people and what business did they have interfering with your lives?

Miguel stared daggers into the woman, but she only returned them with equal heat. He took a breath in through his nose as if he were going to say something, then quickly, with intent, turned his eyes to yours.

Understanding at once, you squeezed past Peter, who was now letting his daughter dig through the bag of cookies, and tread carefully past Miguel. You were practically able to feel the fury radiating off of him in waves. “I’ll give you all some privacy,” you said softly, tiptoeing back into the living room. You took up your previous space beside the couch and resumed folding the laundry, but your mind was still back in the kitchen. What the fuck was going on?

Your eyes were trained on the news, but your ears - and attention - were straining to hear the conversation being whisper-shouted just in the next room.

“You’re out of your damn mind, Miguel!” Jessica said. “Purposely changing canon events? Redirecting this dimension so it wraps around your little fucking finger? What’s going on?”

“This is different,” Miguel hissed, and you knew at that moment that he was distraught, because he was letting his fangs get in the way of his speech. He hardly ever let that happen. “I’m balancing the canon events. This dimension is still stable.”

You recognized Hobie’s voice, thick and heavy with his accent. “Really?” he said, and you heard the electric twang of his guitar being fiddled with. “What’cha call that glitch in Brooklyn, then?”

“Why exactly are you here, Brown?”

“Don’t know. Wanted to see fur fly, I’spose.”

“We’re here to take you back to HQ, Miguel,” said Jessica in that stern, commanding voice that she had used with you. “You’re tearing this reality apart at the seams. You know what happens if you do.”

Trying to listen in further, you took a step toward the kitchen, placing a hand on a shelf beside an empty vase.

“You have no power over me, Drew,” Miguel snarled. “In fact, I’d say you’re far out of line.”

“If I am, you can’t even see the damn line anymore, you pompous ass.” She exhaled a breath, likely trying to calm herself. “You’re the one who preaches to the others how dangerous altering canon events are. Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, I think we know why,” Peter piped up then, but his voice was light, teasing, even. Trying not to sound hostile, trying not to invoke those powerful claws and fangs. His daughter cooed and babbled.

There came a moment of long, palpable silence. But your attention was then drawn to the television, to a breaking news coverage.

Jessica exhaled. “You can’t save them, Miguel,” she said in a voice that almost wasn’t there. “Either of them. You’re damning them by staying here.”

“Enough,” came Miguel’s deathly quiet whisper.

“You’re killing them,” she snarled then, and the baby’s nonsense silenced. “Both of them; that little girl, that poor woman, you are literally tearing them apart from the inside out.”

“ENOUGH!”

Your hand slipped and knocked over the vase, sending it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The conversation in the kitchen ceased, but you did not notice any of it. Your eyes were glued to the screen, lips open and heart stopped in your chest and world falling apart at the seams.

From the kitchen, Miguel said your name. He - along with the strangers - stepped into the living room. You felt a hand on your arm, and it sent pinpricks like fire racing through your skin. They all followed your gaze to the television, where a reporter was listening to an earpiece.

“That’s right,” she said to the camera. “We’ve just confirmed that the remains of the body found by authorities just two hours ago are, in fact, from renowned Alchemax geneticist Miguel O’Hara. Reports are saying he allegedly died from a gunshot wound inflicted by a second party. The body was found hidden in an abandoned warehouse set for demolition to clear room for -”

The silence in the apartment was so tense, so thick, you could have sliced it with a butcher knife.

And that was exactly what you intended to do.

That hand on your arm had tightened its grip. Slowly, because you were afraid if you went too fast you’d faint, you turned your head to look at Miguel. Not Miguel. Not Miguel O’Hara. Because Miguel O’Hara was dead. This was not him. An imposter. A twin, maybe. But nevertheless, an imposter.

This was not Miguel. This was a stranger - and you had fallen in love with him.

Holding your arm, the man was already staring at you. Those eyes that you had come to love, had gazed into while he held you, while he fucked you, were trained on yours with a certain kind of glaze you could not decipher. The strangers were all watching the pair of you, waiting, unsure of just what was about to happen.

The man said your name in that way you loved. Now it made you sick. “Hey,” he said, turning you to face him. He raised his wrist and shot out a web that clicked the television off. “Hey, baby, don’t listen to that. I was - I was called about this earlier today. There was a mix up with the names.”

You could not hear him. You only heard the blood rushing through your ears, only felt the icy cold that had replaced your veins. Slowly, placing one foot in front of the other, you padded past the man. Past the strangers. Into the kitchen - where you silently unsheathed a butcher knife from the block on the counter.

You felt his presence behind you, like a ghost, like a shadow; like the stranger he was, following you. That’s what he had been doing all this time. Following you, stalking you. Pretending to be someone you would trust. Oh, fuck; had he taken Gabriella after her real father was killed? Had he been manipulating her this entire time?

He said your name again, touched your waist. And you struck.

With a cry that came from somewhere deep in your throat, filled with all the shock and rage and confusion and anger you had within you, you spun around and slashed the knife at the man. His senses must have gone into overdrive, because he jumped back, then shot out a web to stick your hand - and the knife - to the countertop.

“Miguel!” cried Peter as the others crowded in after him.

You released a scream at the four of them, trying desperately to pull the webbing off your hand. “Leave me alone!” you shrieked up at the man watching you with wide, frantic eyes. “Get out! Get away from me!”

“Hey, hey, baby, you have to listen to me.” The man grabbed your other fist when you tried to swing it at him, pinning you down against the sink. When you screamed again, he clapped a hand over your mouth. “Listen to me, baby. You remember what I told you that day at Alchemax? About twin dimensions and realities?”

Jessica took a step forward. “Miguel, enough,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears.

“It’s true,” he said to you, bringing his face close to yours, despite how much you tried to pull away. “I’m not from this dimension. Mine, my home - it was destroyed. This reality’s Miguel, he was a done case, but I stepped in, you understand me? I couldn’t let Bri be an orphan, I couldn’t -” He stared at you, his heavy breath fanning over your face, his eyes wide and desperate. “I couldn’t let you go, don’t you see that?” He shook his head slightly. “I’m still Miguel. I’m still your Mig. I’m still yours.”

Then his mouth was on yours, his hands holding either side of your head in a grasp that felt as though it were bruising your scalp. He tasted just like you remembered, just how you liked, just like how you loved. And for a moment, for a stupid, foolish moment, you were kissing him back. Because he was still your Miguel. He wasn’t from here, from your reality, but dammit, he was still yours.

But your body acted upon its own accord, shoved your mind and your logic out the window. Because you’d gotten your hand free of the webbing. Letting go of the knife, you shoved him backward, ducked under his arm, and ran for the front door. He yelled your name, roared it, but you were quicker than him. You slammed the door open, swung around, and threw it shut, then dashed down the stairs of your apartment building.

Your lips still tasted like him.

When you burst into the fresh air, you looked around for only a moment before taking off running again. You’d left everything behind - your phone, your wallet, everything - but you couldn’t stop running. Couldn’t stop running from the man who had - from what he’d said - taken the place of a dead man, played father to a child that was not his, loved you like it was actually meant to be.

You knew now that Lyla the AI had not been defective. You knew now that you were supposed to be dead by now, strangled to death by your ex boyfriend. You knew now why Miguel was late that first day picking up Gabriella. You understood everything.

Through the tears you realized were spilling down your cheeks, you managed to look a few feet ahead of you and skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the people in front of you. A crowd of onlookers from every street on an intersection were watching, filming, screaming, as a skyscraper glitched and warped in on itself, folding and twisting as if it were on a television screen and the signal was going out.

Then, across the street, a car began to glitch. It skidded through a red light, plowed into another vehicle crossing the intersection.

A few blocks down, there came an explosion that rocked the entire street. People screamed and ducked.

Oh, fuck. It was happening - like Jessica had said. Your reality was tearing apart.

Because of Miguel.

You began to back up with the crowd as, around you, your universe was tearing apart at the seams. But then from behind, there came more screams and shrieks of panic, a symphony of chaos and pure, unbridled panic. You turned to face the street, and your heart turned to frozen, petrified ice within the confines of your chest.

The villains Spiderman - Miguel - had been putting behind bars this past month had broken free; Doctor Octopus, Kraven, the Vulture… they had all escaped, now joined together as they approached the small mass of people you stood with on the corner. Leading them was a figure you did not recognize; purple and black costume and tactical gear, mask of pure violet with electric eyes that shone like the glinting tips of the claws on their hands.

The figure entered the crowd, which parted like a sea for him, swarming in every direction possible. You backed yourself up against the front of the building you stood beside, feeling horrified, panicked tears spilling down your face as the person stopped just inches away. With one clawed hand, they reached up to gently wipe away a drop cascading down to your chin; you felt the blade of the claw nick you, and the tear was replaced with a sliver of blood.

“Please don’t cry,” said the person - said the man - behind the mask. “Not here.” You couldn’t help the warbled, strained cry that escaped your throat when he brought his head closer to yours, so that his mouth was leveled with your ear. “What’s the matter, babe? Don’t recognize the Prowler?”

Babe.

Suddenly, in that moment, you didn’t care that Miguel had lied to you. You didn’t care that he was from another dimension, that the fates had destined you to be apart. You didn’t care about any of that. You just wanted to be in his arms, shielded from this awful world falling apart at the edges by those sinewy arms and that red, chilling gaze.

You wanted Miguel because when the Prowler’s mask dematerialized and he pulled his head back, you knew the face staring back at you.

Ferris gave a wide, unnatural, sickening smirk as he watched realization dawn in your eyes. That smile curled even further when it was replaced with fear. “Take it easy, babe,” he said, his lips just inches from yours. “There’s a lot of work to be done to be getting this worked up just yet.”

Behind him, Doctor Octopus leveled his shades as one of his long, winding, mechanical arms unfurled from beneath him. Clasped by the back of her jacket with the sharp, glinting claw was Gabriella O’Hara, curled into herself as she sobbed loudly and hung onto the metal for her life.

Leaning in closer yet, Ferris shot out a clawed hand and wrapped his palm around the column of your neck. His fingers fit perfectly around the bruises just beginning to fade there; like puzzle pieces, because no matter how hard you tried to shape or bend or destroy the shape, there would only ever be one correct fit. “Let’s take a walk,” he said. “You’re going to help us catch a spider.”

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quaintii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead @bitch-onthemoon @hier—soir @takayomi @kirke-is-my-name @d1lf-loverrr @might-be-a-rat @brooks-lin @maki-z @bookfreakk @act1839 @dollscircus @sleepingaway @anxietybutterfly @bioticboot @mxkn @freeingrebels @digitalcreature404 @aimee777 @hunnaye @blahbahed @cyanide-mustard @impettywhenyouare @mental-illness-is-my-friend @bobfood @jenniferdixon05207 @moonchild-cupcake @venomous-ko @marvelouslovely-barnes @syarblu @fruitcupsworld @soooooyesbutactually-no @hopefulcandywitch @elwyn7 @oh-theseus @thepanwiccan @takayomi @dreamingofbucky @yuuuumii @p1nkliquor @scammer-get-scammed @mlishe

[lavenderlilacbones]

He's a Magic Man

Ohhhh, he's got the magic hands

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Description: You and Eddie have been friends for years, neither of you willing to admit you had begun to crush on one another until one night your usual smoke and chill session gets a little steamy

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY, SMUT with an attempt at minor plot, minors DNI, praise kink, slight degradation kink/dirty talk, van sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, use of pet names, drug use, f/m!oral receiving, fingering, teasing, choking, unprotected p in v, light anal play, creampie, touch of fluff at the end

A/N: I haven't written anything in a very long time, let alone smut, but like many of us on this hell site, the Eddie Munson brain rot has a very tight grip on me so I decided to give in. After not having a good idea for this for a couple weeks, it all spilled out of me very quickly. There was an attempt at proofreading. If this is well received, maybe I'll make this kind of thing a habit.

Word count: 3924

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It was a crisp evening, but not so much you couldn’t leave the van doors open as you and Eddie sat opposite each other on the back edge, passing a joint between the two of you. The mixtape you made faintly plays from his stereo, just loud enough to hear but not enough to impede on the atmosphere. You leaned back against the wall of the van after passing the joint back to him, staring up at the stars as you exhaled, smoke gently floating above you. 

“Hey,” Eddie’s raspy voice breaks your daydream, bringing your attention back to the joint in his hand. You smiled and took it back from him, delicately placing it between your lips and taking another puff. “Whatcha thinkin about, Princess?” He takes the joint again, cocking his head to the side as he studies you.

“Nothin’ in particular…” you start, returning your gaze to the sky, “I just love when the sky is this clear.” You nod your face upward, driving Eddie to follow your gaze. A sea of stars shine above you, softly glinting against the night sky. Eddie hums in approval as he hits the joint again, chasing it with the final sip of his beer.

This had been a frequent ritual for you two for a while, grabbing a meal and smoking together. Usually it was at his trailer, but it was such a nice night you both decided it would be more fun parking by the lake with a six pack and a pizza. Summer was over and autumn was rolling in so you had to savor the nice weather before it fully gave way to the cold of the oncoming winter. The pizza box was shoved against the driver's seat, its contents long devoured, the six pack now a four pack.

The next track on the mixtape starts and it's Magic Man by Heart. Eddie groans, handing the joint back to you and moving like he's gonna skip it. 

You grab the joint and immediately box him in place with your legs. "Don't you dare, Munson. This is a good fucking song and you know it," you snap at him.

"It's pop rock! It's not my style," he retorts, already accepting that he's not gonna escape from where your legs planted him.

"Have you even listened to that guitar solo? You can't tell me that isn't cool as fuck!"

Eddie scoffs, "I guess it's okay." At this point he was just playing with you, he loved when you got riled up over something you were passionate about. The way your body language would become noticeably more animated reminded him of how he'd get the same way with certain subjects.

You catch his smirk and give him a playful shove with your legs before retracting them and crawling next to where he sat in the van, settling next to him as you took another long drag from the quickly dwindling joint. You exhale the smoke at Eddie in an act of defiance as you hand it back to him. "You're so full of shit, Eddie," you chide playfully.

Eddie gives you a sly smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and watching you with those soft brown eyes, slightly hazy from the weed. He takes one last long drag before stuffing the roach in his empty can beside him. Holding in the smoke, he turns to you, letting his confidence lead his next move as he gently slid his finger along your jawline and lifts your chin slightly. He brushes the tip of your nose with his and as if you read his mind, your lips part to let him shotgun the smoke to you, his lips grazing over yours.

He pulls back just enough to take in your face, checking to see if his sudden bravado was misplaced as you exhaled only to be met with a satisfied smile. You touch his face, closing the gap again only this time your lips fully meet with his. Eddie melts into your touch, deepening the kiss as you snake your fingers through his messy curls. He slips his tongue out to trace over your lips and you open them, inviting him into your mouth and clashing your tongue against his, twisting and tasting each other. A mix of weed, PBR, and a lingering hint of pepperoni. After a long moment you both break to catch your breath, foreheads pressed together.

"Eddie Munson, you have no idea how long I've waited for you to do that," you laugh, cradling his face in your hand.

He chuckles back, his hand sliding under your hoodie to caress your side before it comes to rest on your hip, fingers playing at the hem of your shirt. "Glad to know it isn't just me, sweetheart."

His lips meet yours again, both of you allowing the hunger between you to peek out as your mouths smash together. You move to straddle him, sucking on his bottom lip and not breaking the kiss as you settle on his lap. Eddie's hands grasp your hips roughly as you give him a little grind, causing him to moan into your mouth. He slides his hands down to your ass, encouraging you to grind into him again.

You feel his growing erection through his jeans and the friction causes you to break the kiss to release a gasp. Eddie takes the opportunity to bury his face against your neck, biting and sucking on your throat, small dark marks peppering your skin. Both of your arms slide around Eddie's neck, hands tangling in his long hair and holding him against you as his continued assault makes you whine with need for him. 

He glides a hand under your shirt and you can feel him grin against your neck when he realizes you didn't wear a bra tonight. "God you're incredible," he mumbles into you as he cups one of your breasts and squeezes, teasing your nipple between his calloused fingers.

You pull back to shrug your hoodie off your shoulders and he responds by shoving off his leather jacket and battle vest, tossing them aside. Grabbing at the hem of your shirt, you lift it over your head, adding to the growing pile of discarded clothing beside you.

Eddie sits back to take in the view, both his hands sliding along your sides before each claiming a tit and kneading the flesh in his hands, eliciting a moan from you. He shoves his face between them; biting, kissing, sucking, feasting on you like a man starved.

Your own hands slip under his shirt in response, feeling the gentle indents of muscle along his abdomen and chest. "Oh god Eddie… I want you so bad," you gasp, still grinding your heat against him.

"Yeah baby?" He huffs against your chest between bites and kisses, "gonna make you feel real good tonight, Princess." Eddie reaches a hand down to fumble at your belt and pants, loosening the button and zipper just enough to give him access. "Jesus Christ, you're already so wet," he moans against you as he slides a finger along your slick slit, overcome by how much of a mess you already are. "This all for me, baby?" He asks as he leans back from you slightly, meeting your eyes.

You bite your bottom lip and nod in response. "Been thinking about fucking you a long time Eds," you grip his shoulders, gently digging your nails into his skin, "thinking about how your fingers would feel…" 

Eddie continues to tease your pussy, just sliding his finger along your lips and collecting your arousal, watching you with amusement as you shudder in response. "Thinking about how your mouth would feel," you continue, twisting your fingers in his necklace as you lean forward to nibble at his ear lobe, his thumb finds your clit and rubs soft circles against it, earning another moan from you "Thinking about your cock inside me." You emphasize the last sentence by roughly cupping his straining bulge through his jeans. 

Eddie groans, dipping his finger into your heat as you press against him. He worms his fingers into your hair and grasps it tightly, using it to gently tug you upright in his lap again so he can look at your face. "I can't wait to feel this tight little cunt gushing on my cock, baby." He slides a second finger inside you, briefly mimicking your face as your mouth drops into an O shape, his fingers curling inside you, "but first I want to taste you." After a few more pumps of his fingers, he pulls his hand from your pants, the loss making you whine in protest. He brings them to his mouth and sucks your juices off them with a pop, humming contentedly. "Fuck, I bet it's even better straight from the source." He stares at you, licking his lips hungrily.

With his arm around you Eddie lays you down on the pile of blankets he keeps in the van, managing to stay slotted between your legs as he does so. He leans down to kiss you, twisting his tongue around yours as he reaches down to undo his own pants and give his straining erection some breathing room. He straightens up long enough to pull his shirt over his head before falling back over you and begins to trail kisses and bites down your body, pausing to give your breasts some dedicated attention before continuing down your abdomen and leaving a few more marks in his wake.

He slides your jeans and underwear down as he bites along your hips, only stopping to lift your legs over his shoulder so he can fully remove your remaining clothes. He settles himself back between your legs, laying on his stomach as he kisses and nibbles your inner thighs, working his way to your puffy lips. Eddie watches you as he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit and punctuates it by sucking on your clit. 

You arch against him, moaning loudly, and you can tell how pleased he already is with himself when he hums against your sensitive nub before pulling away. "Look at this pretty pussy, s’wet and ready for me." He gives another lick, light and teasing this time.

"Mmm Eddie… please," you whine, bucking your hips towards him in a needy gesture as he stills your movement.

Eddie flashes you a devilish smile, "Please what, Princess?" He teases, kissing just out of reach from where you truly want him. "I want to hear you say it."

You bite your lip, feeling your heart pound in anticipation, "Eat my pussy, Eddie, please."

"That's my good girl." Eddie rewards you with a few heavy licks through your folds, gently sucking on them between laps. He begins to alternate between lapping at your arousal and sucking your clit, his large hands gripping your thighs as he settles into a rhythm that has you practically screaming for him.

"Oh my god Eddie!" you gasp as you instinctively roll your hips against his face, one of your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair as the other slides over one of the hands on your thighs, intertwining your fingers with his. 

Eddie moans against you, tongue-fucking your hole as your moans continue to build. "You taste so fuckin good, baby." He's already so pussy drunk and you can see it in his eyes when he looks up at you, bringing his mouth back to your clit as he slides two of his fingers into you. "I could eat this pussy all night."

His words make you crumble. "Eddie… fuck! I'm s'close!" you whine. "Please don't stop!" You can feel the cool metal of his rings kiss your entrance with every pump of his fingers. The pornographic sound of your wet squelching mixed with your moans fills the van. Before long your walls are clenching his fingers so hard he can barely move them inside you, still pulling and grasping his hair as you ride out your orgasm on his face. A whining, blubbering mess as you hold onto his head for dear life. It feels like minutes before your body calms down, Eddie not stopping his movements until he's sure your climax has passed.

He kisses your inner thigh and looks up at you, face glistening with your cum and the biggest smile on his face.  "That sounded like a good one, Princess," he cooed, admiring your fucked out expression as he gently slides his fingers over your sopping wet lips, making you twitch and whine from the slight overstimulation.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard from being eaten out," you pant, reaching up to push the sweat matted hair from your forehead. Eddie responds with a self satisfied laugh as he plants more kisses on the inside of your thighs. You reach out for him, beckoning him toward you and Eddie obliges, crawling back up your body to lock his swollen pink lips with yours. You can taste yourself on him and it just turns you on more, causing you to squeeze your knees against his hips. "Eddie…" you breathe between kisses, "I need you to fuck me."

Eddie moans into you. You trail a hand down his body, slipping into his boxers and closing it around his hard length, gasping at the feel of his girth. Eddie thrusts into your hand, whining and moaning as you stroke him. He reaches down to shove his pants down, kicking them off his legs once they get far enough and leans back on his knees to push his boxers off, letting his cock spring free. You fully take in his size for the first time, almost overcome with need for him. 

"Christ Eddie, you're so big…" you marvel, propping yourself up and leaning forward to take him in your hands again. "Where have you been hiding this fuckin’ thing?" You joke as you stroke his length, not really looking for an answer.

Eddie lets out a hiss as you lick the precum beading on his tip, but before he can think of a response you're taking him in your mouth and causing his brain to short circuit. His hands slide along your shoulders and neck as you move to take a long lick from base to tip, pursing your lips together as you push him back in your mouth. One of his hands settles on the back of your head to guide you as you bob on his cock, taking in as much as you dare. Eddie gives a few gentle thrusts before he has to stop you, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a pop. "I'm not gonna last if I let you keep this up," he leans down to kiss you again before he reaches over to dig in the back pocket on the passenger seat. A look of frustration draws across his face when he doesn't find what he's looking for. "Fuck… I think I'm out of condoms," he groans in annoyance.

You gently shove him back, guiding him to flip positions so you're back on top of him, his frustration giving way to curiosity as you settle in his lap again. "I'm on the pill, Eddie," you whisper as you kiss and suck along his jawline. You drag your wet heat over his length firmly and Eddie grabs your ass, a shuddering moan escapes his lips as his head drops back and he ruts against you. You move to the other side of his face, still planting little love bites to his jawline and neck, "I want to feel you fill me up."

"Jesus H Christ, baby, you're gonna be the death of me saying shit like that," Eddie growls. He lifts your hips slightly before grabbing his cock and lining himself up with your entrance, swirling his tip in your arousal a few times before guiding you back down on his lap. His eyes are fixated on where you two connect as he watches his cock disappear inside you, the sounds of your moans almost drowning out the mixtape still playing in the background.

You take a moment to adjust, feeling that satisfying burn of how well his cock stretches and fills you. Biting your lip and anchoring your hands on his shoulders, you slowly rise and fall on his lap, both of you groaning together at the delicious friction. Eddie's thumb finds your clit again and starts rubbing in those gentle circles, quickening your pace. Your hand slides into his hair, pulling his face into your chest. He kisses your breasts, alternating between them and sucking on your nipples, rolling his tongue against them as he does.

His free hand kneads the flesh of your ass as you bounce on him. He pauses his assault on your chest to look up at you, his previously soft brown eyes now dark and full of lust. "Look at you coming apart for me, baby. Desperate little slut for my cock," he coos against you. The hand on your ass slides a little lower and inward as Eddie teases a finger over the tight hole as if to test your response. The jolt of electricity it sends through you has you grinding harder on his dick, ragged moans escaping your lips. Eddie growls in approval, reaching further to collect the slick from between you two before continuing his probing, adding more pressure as he dips the tip of his middle finger in. "Bet you'd like me to fuck this tight little hole too. Ruin this perfect little ass." The hand that was rubbing your clit slides up the back of your neck, Eddie pulling you in close as he bites and sucks at your jugular.

The sound you make in response is feral, your whole body vibrates against him as the combined stimulation has you riding him hard. "Fuck Eddie! Gonna cum," your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

"Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you soak my cock." His encouragement is all you need, falling over the edge as you clench tightly around him. Eddie groans, struggling to hold back because he's not done with you yet, rolling his hips with yours as you ride out your orgasm. Your moans are deep and loud, feeling your clit press against the tuft of hair above his crotch as he grinds into you. Your spasms soften and before you realize what's happening, Eddie's rolling you on your back, supporting your hips against his to keep himself inside you.

Eddie hitches his arms under your knees and begins to pound into you roughly, another moan escaping your mouth with every snap of his hips into you. "God look at this pretty pussy, taking my cock so well," he groans at the sight of you before him, a fucked out, blubbering mess as he hurtles you towards another orgasm. "Who would have guessed you'd be such a filthy little slut?" He sucks in his bottom lip as he drops one of your legs gently, sliding his hand around your throat and waiting for confirmation before applying pressure. You slide a hand over his, pressing it into your throat as you whine softly and nod, giving him the consent he asked for. As his grip tightens, your hand slides from his to trace along his forearm before falling back above your head as you arch your back, panting desperately from the ecstasy of his touch.

"Fuuuuuck," Eddie groans, mouth hung open as he leans forward, nearly bending you in half after pushing the leg he was still holding up to his shoulder. His thrusts become ruthless, gently gripping your throat as he locks his lips with yours in a passionate, sloppy kiss. "I'm getting close, baby. Gonna fill this pussy up until you're dripping with me." His moans are almost as ragged as yours, his thrusts hard and deep.

You lock your legs around his hips, your hands finding purchase in his curls again and you hold him against you. "God, give it to me, Eddie. Fuck!" You feel your third orgasm edging closer as Eddie releases your throat and brings his hand to your hip, changing the angle just enough that he's consistently ramming at that sweet spot inside you.

Between your moans and the fluttering of your walls around him, Eddie knows how close you are. He keeps up his pace, not willing to let himself cum before you but feeling his control slipping. "Come on, baby, give me one more, wanna feel you cum again." He reaches between you to rub your clit again and before you know it you feel that coil snap, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back. "Thaaaat's a good girl," he praises, still rubbing your sensitive nub. The spasms and tightness of your pussy are all too inviting and Eddie shudders as his own release washes over him, spurts of cum painting your walls as he continues to fuck you through both your orgasms, milking everything he's got into you. Breathing heavily, he collapses on you gently, trying not to crush you under his weight, his cock still buried inside you. He nuzzles into your neck and smiles as you rub his back.

"God, Eddie, that was incredible," you pant, kissing his forehead. 

Eddie smiles and kisses your chest, propping himself up on his elbows and planting another kiss on your lips. "I've been wanting to fuck you like that since last year," he says before gently pulling out of you, watching as some of his cum begins to seep out of your cunt. He reaches for his boxers and uses them to clean you both up before tossing them aside again and settling in beside you.

"Should have shotgunned me then you big dork, we could have been fucking like this all year," you playfully nudge him.

"I didn't think you'd be into me! I know we’re friends, but who wants to date the town freak?" Eddie shrugs, his insecurities showing.

You smile warmly at him, sliding your hands over his face and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “Guess you found the girl that wants to date the freak.”

He wraps his arms around you, feeling you melt into his chest, a face splitting smile stretches across his lips, “Seems like I did, sweetheart.” Eddie pulls back slightly and lifts your chin to look at your face, grinning as he's met with your look of contentment. "My girl," he coos as he bends his head down to kiss you tenderly.

“Yeah?” he responds, feeling you shiver.

"My freak," you respond with another deep, passionate kiss. Both of you laugh as he gives you a playful shove before pulling you back against his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

Finally becoming aware of the contrast of the chilly night air against your warm, sweaty bodies, you pull Eddie tighter against you. “Hey Eddie?”

“I think it’s time we head back to your place,” you smirk and wiggle against him, “maybe we’ll find the energy for a second round.”

You feel Eddie’s heart skip a beat in his chest. “Don't have to tell me twice, Princess.” Eddie feels like he’s gonna be wearing that grin all weekend as you both throw your clothes back on for the drive back to the trailer.

[rifualk]

On Mental Health and Cosmic Embarrassment

I don't usually make a post in the aftermath of one of my spirals, so I bet most people see some of the vent posts I make, and assume I am just off my meds or something. I am on them but I might not be on the right ones. This is a thing that happens to me sometimes. I have psychotic episodes, where it feels like the things I am saying are completely inconsequential and I genuinely believe no one cares what I'm saying or, worst of all, that it cannot scare anyone that cares about me. I get too tired to fight my intrusive thoughts and I just ride them out. Most of my thoughts are not ones I enjoy having. I have trouble parsing what is real sometimes. For most of my life, out of a kind of primal shame and terror of being perceived or judged, I beat myself into believing that I just roleplayed as a crazy person online because I wanted attention for it, but it finally clicked for me at some point in my 20s that I was, and am, genuinely very mentally ill, maybe in ways that make me not-entirely-functional in the culture I inhabit. Also, I want attention for it.

Life is very embarrassing. I think embarrassment, shame, et al. is probably the most cosmic feeling of them all, because being embarrassed, for me anyway, leads invariably to my OCD extrapolating the embarrassment, no matter how slight, into its natural extreme, becoming a full-blown existential meltdown and often manifesting in some self-punishment. Or a lot of self-punishment. Instead of saying "everyone wants attention, it's not a big deal", my brain will overwhelm me with shame and make me vow to be quieter about the whole thing next time. Good emotions are meant to be expressed, I tell myself, and Bad ones are not. I think it's very unhealthy for people to not express their negative emotions openly. Or maybe I'm psychotic. I mean, I am psychotic. But maybe right now, too.

Ultimately this feeling peaks with the realization - again - that I'm a eukaryote. I live on a spinning ball of stardust in the aftermath of what had to have been a colossal disaster and waste of time. But it happened, and so now there's a bunch of stuff floating around, and some of that stuff started moving for reasons I don't personally understand and the implications of which scare me. And the moving stuff that moved faster got to stay moving longer. And so a chain reaction escalated, and eventually there were very large moving things whose survival adaptations had evolved in such a way that they could conceptualize and communicate complex information about the world around them, but they were also able to conceptualize themselves. This gave them a lot of grief. They wanted very badly for there to be an answer to why they were able to do that. Surely it served some purpose. But we never found one, and here we are.

I don't have a god to turn to. I have tried - earnestly, sincerely, and desperately - to reach out; I never hear back. I don't want to be an atheist, it's heartbreaking. Honestly. I want someone to be up there, or out there. Knowing there isn't, is just... cruel. It's horrifying and it wrenches my heart. Look at us, look how much we're suffering, where the fuck did you go, what the fuck is your problem? Help us!

In spite of everything, I am still not sure what I believe.

Don't you ever just cry about the world? Like, broadly? Don't you ever just have to take off your glasses and wipe the brine from them because you caught a glimpse of what people, as a species, could be capable of? And I get angry at myself, too. What am I doing about it? What even can I do? I can barely hold down a job. I am barely an adult. I am often mired in this feeling. It permeates everything. I'm living in a tragedy - not just my own, but millions and millions of others'. This is a nightmare. It's a nightmare and I'm an embarrassment, and my brain doesn't work right, and I'm living in a terrible reality that is shared by everyone, and yet somehow equally isolating and alienating to all of us. Does it have to be that way? Aren't we all lonely?

When I am spiraling I really do think that the end is near, either for me, or for everyone, or for both. To be fair, my confidence about humanity's future is not promising even when I am at my most sane. But in this kind of emotional place, the stakes are too high for me to care that what I say might come off as upsetting. It is completely overwhelming. I see my life up to this point, and I see how long I've been alive and realize I'm very Not Normal and I look and sound different than everyone around me and I'm an embarrassment. It's embarrassing to exist. It's embarrassing to be transgender, too. It's really, really embarrassing to be mentally ill and fully aware of it all the time. It's shameful. I am ashamed of how my family likely sees me. How my peers see me. I'm just a walking disaster. I feel like this bars me from leading a happy life or finding some success in art - It doesn't seem like you're allowed to be quite this much of a problem and "get away with it", does it? There's a bit of social sanitizing at work there - you are only allowed to be a certain level of messed up and if you pass that you're sort of a pariah. I don't think I've ever done anything pariah-worthy, but I can only see things from the inside of my own head, and there's a lot of unwanted noise in here.

I painted this when I lived in Oregon. I don't know how. I could not do art like this again if asked.

I'm not in a good place, generally-speaking. It could be worse - and it was for a long time- but it's still just not great. The main reason is that I am very homesick. I grew attached to the Pacific Northwest in a way I've never really grown attached to any other place. It had a quality that exists nowhere else. It resonated with me immediately and I knew right away from the moment I first set foot there that it was my home. I grew to be a part of it, and it's the only place I felt I somewhat-belonged... I have been away from Oregon for 2 whole years as of next month. I feel like I'm a fish out of water, or a sapling in the wrong soil. I can't and won't say that the place I live currently is a bad place, but it isn't my place, and the disconnect has been maybe the nastiest shock to my system in all my life. Finding the place I loved, and living for over 12 years there, only to be wrenched away from it so suddenly, left a shock on me that I think has yet to surface in my work. I'm excited to see what form it takes when it does. Location is very important to my mental wellbeing, more than I think it is for most people. Maybe I am a plant. It's also very important for my art. I've struggled to find inspiration since I moved here. That said, I've had the very precious opportunity to just work on myself - on my transition, as well as my personal issues. I think I'm getting better, gradually, in some way. I have a job now, at least. So it's not entirely bad. I even grew sunflowers last summer.

Around this time I got banned from twitter, but I don't feel any shame about the reason why because I believe in my message. But it forced me to be a lot less active online for a long time. It also made me lose a lot of support. That's been something I've grappled with a lot these last 2 years - that people really don't like people like me, for reasons that are mostly not our fault. I will likely always be something of an outsider for being who I am now, but I was one before anyway. It's still worth it. I like the person I'm becoming. I feel like only recently did I allow myself to feel this self-love. I was too embarrassed of myself. It took a lot of patience and a lot of de-tangling my self-worth from a lot of trauma. So it's likely I would have needed to go through all of this regardless of where I was.

I still slip up. It's an uphill climb and it's slippery. I like to be transparent about these things. It's a relief - feeling like I need to hide things is my default state and it's lovely to just let go of stuff so I don't need to keep it in my head all the time. I have a lot of hangups still. I get discouraged about my art still - I fear I'll never build myself back up to where I was before, and that there will never be a time when I can really pay the bills with it. Or worse-still, that it just isn't special enough to last. That it isn't remarkable enough to survive after I'm gone. But I think a lot of people who make stuff feel that way, and it's not our fault. There's some relief in that. I'm happy to have even a few people that care about me and my work, and something I've been trying really hard to remember in recent years is to take time to appreciate them. I'm not actually alone. I have a lot of people that love me. I'm not an outsider. I'm very lucky to know the people I do, and I hold a deep regret for all the connections I've let go of because I was just too sick. Deep down I really do wish I could love everyone. I have no ill will towards anyone, not really.

I still don't know what I'm doing. I am just doing my best, I think. I'm really, really tired. I don't want to get any older. I'm scared of the passage of time. My memory is so bad, it feels like time is taken from me without me realizing. I am 33 years old. I do not have 33 years worth of memories. There are huge leaps. Gaps where suddenly I was just older and in more pain. Being adrift in time like this is horrific - one day I will blink, and the present moment may be completely forgotten. It can't go this fast. It just can't. Something has to be wrong. I don't want to die, I don't want to miss out on so much life or be unable to remember it. I don't want to find myself on my deathbed someday way sooner than I think and be unable to string together any kind of coherent thread from my memories. What is it all for? It has to mean something right? Why am I doing anything?

I think I finally understand that love is why. I don't know much more than that. Love is real, and it's the answer. If you find love, don't take it for granted, ever. No love is perfect. Take it with all its flaws. You don't have time to bargain with it. Love like you'll never love again, love like it's your last day alive, love like it will keep you alive forever, because it will. Every year closer to death you get, you will feel the regret of all the times you did not follow your heart. Life is short. I'm finding this out entirely too late. It goes by so fast, and what you have at the end are people and memories of being loved. To be loved is to live forever. It's the thing that connects us to everything else. It's the source and the answer to everything. It makes more sense the older I get. It used to sound cheesy, but I believe it with more sincerity every day.

I'll be okay, okay

I once promised someone that I would stop self-harming. They are no longer in my life, but I kept the promise anyway. There are no new scars on my arms, or bruises on my head or face. I'm keeping this promise for myself, now.

[venerawrites]

Can I request an Imagine where a fem character is captured by the enemy and she’s under a genjutsu where she’s being tortured by Shikamaru (who she loves) but is pulled out of it just in time by Shika who actually gets there in time with a team? Comfort fluff, reassuring, and he admits he loves her?

author's note: I have been writing this literally for ages, but now that all my assignments are officially done, I finally had a chance to catch up! Thank you so much for your patience and this beautiful idea! I absolutely loved writing this one! I hope you like it! <3

warnings: mentions of torture; swearing

There is something comforting in darkness. Once it welcomes you in its embrace, all your fears, worries, and thoughts just... disappear. Your body and your mind relax and for once, it is all quiet.

And silence is beautiful.

Two strong hands wrapped around your neck, pulling you harshly out of the water and bringing all your senses back to reality. The sudden rush of air filling your lungs made you choke and you struggled to take another breath. The comforting silence, in which you were blissfully floating just a second ago, was interrupted by the rapid beating of your heart and the muffled sound of someone's voice next to you.

"-absolutely pathetic", your brain registered only the last words of what the person said. You coughed once again and another hefty amount of dirty water made its way out of your body, letting you breathe more freely. Your chest felt heavy and all your muscles screamed in pain, making this moment of awareness feel more like a punishment than a relief.

With a few slow blinks, the darkness started to lift and your surroundings started to become clearer. At first, all you could see was the sky - so grey and sad, a sure sign it was about to rain soon. Then your focus shifted to the trees and the strange way their leaves stood still, despite the wind around you. Finally, your eyes shifted to the silhouette sitting next to you. Blinking a few more times, their face started to become more focused and you let out a breath of relief, once you realised it was your best friend who saved you from what seemed like sure death.

"Shika...", you said weakly, not having the energy to even pronounce his full name. Instinctively reaching your hand toward him, you tried to get a hold of his hand, his warmth being the only thing your body craved right now. The said man let out a scoff, moving out of the way just when you were about to reach him. When you hand hit nothing but air, you slowly opened your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Shika?", you repeated, lifting your head just a bit, so you could see the man better. Sitting on a small stone next to you, he stared at you with a bored expression, a half-burn cigarette hanging from his lips. There was something in weird in his eyes, something which you have seen only a handful of times in all the years you have known him.

Was it anger? Annoyance? Hate?

You couldn't exactly tell, your brain still struggling to make sense of where you are and how did you got there. The last thing you remember was fighting a group of rogue ninjas near Amegakure, before something was wrapped around both your arms and legs, forcing you to the ground. You must have passed out because now you were on the river bank near Konoha, a place where you and Shikamaru played from dawn to dusk when you were children.

"He probably brought me here to clean my wounds", was the first thought that came to your your head, while you tried to lift yourself on your elbows.

"Shika, what-"

The words got stuck in your throat, once your friend's hands found their way around it once again. His nails dug into the skin and you winced in pain, your own fingers wrapping around his wrists in an attempt to pull him away. His power, however, was no match for you and all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes, a silent plead for him to let go.

"Just shut the hell up, troublesome woman! You always ramble on and on, and on...", the fingers on your neck tightened their grip and you opened your mouth, desperately trying to inhale some air and combat the dizziness that started to consume you due to the lack of oxygen. However, Shikamaru did not seem impressed by your struggle or the way you kept tapping his arm. Instead of freeing you, he leaned forward, pressing his full body weight on you.

"I've never hated any sound more than my name coming out of your lips! I fucking hate it! I fucking hate YOU!"

Hissing the last words through gritted teeth, he finally let go of your throat, only to smack his palm against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, a few droplets of blood flying from your mouth. The burning feeling on your cheek, however, felt almost insignificant compared to the overwhelming feelings of shock and confusion that paralyzed your body. The echo of his words kept sounding in your mind, each repetition making your heart beat faster and faster in panic.

"What...", you chocked out, eyes searching his, "What's going on?"

A dry, almost sinister chuckle left his lips and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He lowered his head right above yours before grabbing your cheeks in one hand, squishing your face. A small whine sounded from you and the man narrowed his eyes, observing you with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Look at yourself... calling yourself a ninja, yet you can't handle even a single mission by yourself!", he muttered with disdain, his gaze not leaving yours. You tried to pull your head away, but his grip was so tight, you were unable to move even a muscle.

Tears of frustration started to form in your eyes, a few sliding down your cheeks. Normally, in moments like these, Shikamaru would be the one holding you, muttering sweet words of comfort in your ears. His hands would stroke your hair, while he rocks your body back and forth till you calm down and fall asleep on top of him.

Now he offered nothing but a look of disgust.

"Wh-What are you doing?", your voice betrayed you, sounding smaller than you intended to, "Shikamaru, why are you holding me like this?"

The first rule of the shinobi was to never give up. It was a life full of pain and sacrifice, but the end goal was the protection of the people - and for that, you had to fight, even if you had no energy left in you.

But as you laid beneath Shikamaru, staring at his dark eyes, full of contempt, you couldn't do anything but let the tears fall freely from your eyes. A good ninja would probably seize the moment and use it as a distraction to draw their weapon and stab their attacker, but how could you do that, when the person on top of you was the person you loved and cherished the most in this world? The person that has been your best friend for more than 10 years? The person who was your rock during the hardest periods of your life? The love of your life?

Before you could realise what was happening, his hands lifted you by the neck, pushing your head below the water again. This time, however, there was no comfort in it - it was cold and unwelcoming, sending waves of shock through your entire body. It stung your eyes and it filled your nose and mouth, making you panic. Your mind screamed at you to fight back, to somehow wrench yourself out of his grasp. Throwing both your arms and legs around, you tried to throw him off you, but his fingers only dug deeper into your skin, his knees landing on top of your thighs to keep you still.

Just as your vision started to fade, he brought you back to the surface and you gasped for air, choking in the water still stuck in your lungs.

"I fucking hate you... Do you understand that? I hate the way you whine all the fucking time, clinging to me like a leech! You always cry, never taking any responsibility for anything!", his tone was low, but filled with hatred, "I hate you so fucking much, I've been fantasizing about how to shut your mouth once and for all for so long!"

Barely giving you a chance to even register his words, he pressed your head down once again. Unlike last time, you were under only for a few seconds, before he pulled you out.

"You are nothing but a burden! To me, to your family, to everyone in that damned village!"

"NO! STOP!"

Each word felt like a dagger piercing through your chest, crushing whatever hope remained that all this was just a bad dream and that you would wake up any moment in Shikamaru's bed, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back.

What the hell happened during your mission? When did he even appear? Did he save you? Why was he so angry with you?

Your head was filled with questions and soon there was nothing but a messy tangle of thoughts. A small voice at the back of your mind kept repeating his words.

"Nothing but a burden..."

The words hit deeper than you liked to admit. Back when you were younger you were the weakest kid in class, much to the dismay of your parents, both of which were great and strong shinobi. The other children rarely wanted to play with you - most of the time they viewed you as someone who couldn't keep up with their speed and energy. Naruto and Shikamaru were the only ones who reached out to you back then, the only ones who stood by you when no one else would.

While the blonde was a dear friend to you, nothing could compare to the bond you shared with the young Nara. He has always been a constant in your life, a safe haven to which you could run once the reality was too much to bear. Countless nights he held you in his embrace when you couldn't sleep because your family was fighting once again. He always left his window slightly open, an unspoken invitation for you to come anytime you wanted. Thinking back, sneaking into your best friend's bed at night was maybe not the wisest decision, as it was during one of these times you realised you were utterly and madly in love with him.

You remembered that night clearly. The two of you were laying side by side on his bed, the only light coming from the bright moon up in the sky. It was the night after Asuma's funeral and despite his initial warning for you not to come, you still made your way to his house at 2:00 o'clock at night. He didn't utter even a word when he saw you entering through his window, instead, he only lifted his blanket, making a space for you to join him. You laid down and he immediately pulled you under him, burying his head in the space between your neck and shoulder, his hot tears falling on your bare skin.

As he clung to you, your fingers gently rubbed his scalp, offering your silent support. What wouldn't you give to take his pain away, to bring back his beloved sensei, and to make him forget the horrors he witnessed that day.

"I don't know what I would do without you...", he whispered against your hair, his breath tickling your scalp.

"You don't have to think about that", you whispered back, your fingers still combing through his black locks, "I am here. I always will be."

Shikamaru didn't answer. Instead, he lifted his head and looked at you with his bloodshot eyes, before pressing his lips against yours. It was a quick and gentle peck, a promise of a friend, rather than a lover's confession. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, muttering a quiet 'I am sorry.', before rolling on his side and falling asleep.

Neither of you said anything about it afterward. The next morning you woke up and continued your usual routine, as if nothing had happened. There were moments when you wondered if it was all a dream - maybe you were so in love with him that your brain started to play tricks with you. Yet, there was a weird comfort in not knowing if it was all just an illusion. Sometimes you liked to think that it was, indeed, real.

Slowly losing consciousness due to the lack of air, everything started to fade, except the memory of that night. It kept replaying over and over in your mind, feeling so real, you could almost feel his chapped lips against yours.

How ironic and unfair was that? Your last moments are spent thinking about the man who is currently the source of your suffering.

Suddenly the grip on your neck disappeared and you felt something sliding under your head and knees, lifting you back to the surface. Too tired to fight or even open your eyes, you let yourself be carried out of the river. A frantic voice was shouting something right in your face, but you could not recognize it, nor could understand what it was saying. Your limbs, chest, and eyelids felt so heavy, all you wanted was just to relax and let your body rest.

The second you were laid down on a flat surface, someone's mouth was pressed against yours, blowing air into your lungs. The sudden rush of oxygen made your body jolt and you would've probably hurt yourself, if the person who was bringing you back to life did not have their hands on your chest, rhythmically pumping.

Finally, you took your first breath on your own and you coughed violently, turning your body to the side so you could spit the excess water from your mouth. The hands that saved you made their way to your back, gently patting it to help you stop choking.

"Shit, are you okay?", the sound of the familiar voice made your body freeze.

"No! It cannot end like this!", you thought to yourself, the feeling of panic already bubbling inside of you. What game was Shikamaru playing? He almost ended your life, just to bring you back... What type of cruel torture was that?

"Hey... can you hear me? Please, answer me. Please, I can't-"

Before he could finish, you turned toward him and punched him as hard as you could. The man stumbled back from his kneeling position, cupping his nose in an attempt to stop the flowing blood. You used the opportunity to drag your weak body away from him, ignoring the sharp pain that pulsated through each one of your muscles.

"Stay away!", you yelled, glancing back at him, "Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to kill me?"

The young Nara looked at you with a confused expression, taking a step toward you, but immediately stopping once he saw the fear on your face.

"Kill you? What are you-", the sudden realisation of what was going on downed on him and he lifted both his hands from his face in a defensive motion, "Wait! No! It's not what you think!"

Ignoring his words, you continued to drag yourself away, gritting your teeth at the feeling of your skin scraping against the ground. Looking in his direction again, you found he was already on his feet but he had not moved from his original position.

"Please... I'm not going to hurt you!", he begged, his voice filled with desperation, "Just stop for a second! Listen to me!"

Letting out a sigh, you dropped to the ground, too exhausted to continue your escape attempt. Deep down you knew there was no point - you were surrounded by nothing but a field and while you managed to create a significant distance between you, he was on his feet, while you were crawling on your elbows. It was clear that no matter what you did, you won't be able to run away from him. The only option you had was to just wait and hope he was going to finish this quickly.

"Why?", the question came out as a broken whisper and you were not even sure he heard it, "Why are you doing this?"

Shikamaru's gaze softened and he made a small step toward you, testing your reaction. When he saw you made no movement, he made another step before stopping again. Only the gods knew he wanted nothing more than to run toward you and hold you in his arms, making sure you were okay. The spark of fear in your eyes, however, made him control his urges and he used all his willpower to remain calm and rational.

Seeing you like this... it was like his world was falling apart. He was not a violent person, far from it, but somewhere back in his mind, he kept imagining bringing the rogue ninja that put you through this back to life, just so he could kill him again. And then again. And then again. As many times as it took for him to feel like he did you justice.

The image of your face twisted in a silent scream, your whole body covered in blood, was one that he was never going to forget. And oh, how he wished he could! Ino and Choji have never seen their teammate lose control like this, not even when their sensei died. The piercing shriek that left his lips the moment he saw you, the way he ran toward your body, the bloodthirst in his gaze, while he slashed the enemy's throat open... it was almost like something dark and demonic had possessed him.

"You were under a genjutsu... everything that you felt and saw... it was not real. It was NOT me", with each word he closed the distance more and more, till he found himself right in front of you. Crouching next to your form, he extended his hand to touch yours, brows furrowing when he saw you flinch back.

"Please! Whatever you saw, whatever that bastard made you believe... it was NOT ME!", his voice remained low, yet it was getting more distressed, "I would never, ever hurt you! Never!"

He reached out again, this time slower so he could give you a chance to comprehend his words and move back if you wanted to. Shifting your look between his eyes and his hand, you took a deep breath, before letting him touch you. The warmth of his fingers brightly contrasted with your cold skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"It's me...", his hand slowly moved up toward your face, cradling your cheek in his palm and gently stroking it with his thumb. Your muscles remained frozen, still unsure if this was a trick or not, "I'm here. I'm here..."

He kept repeating the same words over and over, while cautiously moving his body closer, so he could wrap his arms around you. Your eyes danced around your surroundings, finally appreciating that you were in fact NOT next to the river in Konoha. Instead, you were at the exact same spot where you lost consciousness during your fight. The pieces of the mystery of what happened finally started to come together in your mind and the reality hit you like a wave, washing over the lingering doubts in your mind.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a loud sob. And then another... Soon, the tears started freely flowing down your cheeks while your body shook with the intensity of the shock of what actually happened. Shikamaru kept you pressed tightly against his chest, his own tears falling on top of your hair, while he rocked both of you back and forth.

"I am so sorry!", he muttered, pressing his nose into your head, "I am so, so sorry! It's all my fault!"

"Shika-"

"If I didn't waste so much time planning and strategizing, I would've been here on time! I would've been able to save you, I would've been able to kill that bastard before he had the chance to hurt you!", he rambled on, more to himself than to you.

"Shikamaru!"

The sound of his name, together with the feeling of your fingers on his face finally caught his attention and he gazed down at you, his dark eyes still glossy and red.

"You saved me...", you said tracing his jaw, "You actually came for me."

He let out a quiet scoff, squeezing you tighter. His lips found their way to your forehead, placing a small kiss on it and lingering for a few seconds after that.

"Of course, I came for you, you troublesome woman", he sighed, closing his eyes. Holding the person you were in love with for years and who you thought you'd lost forever had to be the most surreal feeling.

At least for him.

There were a few seconds of silence between you, during which you just held each other. No words were spoken, but none were needed - the way you clung to one another, ignoring everyone and everything else, spoke of all of the feelings and affections you kept hidden in your hearts. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear Ino's voice talking, but your mind could not focus on anything but Shikamaru's heartbeat next to your ear.

"I've thought I lost you...", the sudden admission was quiet, almost as if he didn't really want you to hear it. He gulped, moving his head back so he can look into your eyes.

"That night when I said I don't know what I would do without you... I meant it. I still do! I would choose death any day if it means I wouldn't have to face the risk of losing you."

His words made your eyes widen and you stared back at him, trying to read his emotions. The Nara was not a man who liked to talk about his feelings, so any insight into his mind and heart was always surprising. A slight blush covered his cheeks, a sign that despite his moment of courage, he was still feeling nervous about your response.

"I love you."

"I love you."

Both of you blurted it out at the same time, your expressions slowly changing from scared to shocked. You blinked a few times, your brain taking some extra seconds to process his words. Finally, a small smile broke on your lips. Shikamaru, on the other hand, tried to remain serious, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging upwards.

"I want to kiss you."

"Is that your way of asking me for permission or you are just telling me?", you raised a brow and he let out a small laugh at your words.

"I am telling you."

With that one of his palms found your chin, gently cupping it and lifting your head toward him. You could feel his minty breath mixing with your own as he leaned in, not moving his eyes from yours.

The kiss was light, at first you barely felt his mouth against yours. It was delicate and somewhat unsure, just like the kiss you shared that fateful night. The more your lips moved together, the more confident you both became and he grabbed the back of your neck, holding you into place while his tongue met yours. It was all so new, yet it felt so familiar - almost like you've done that a thousand times before.

Finally pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, trying to catch his breath.

"You have no idea how many years I have been dreaming" about this", he landed one more peck, before scooping you in his arms and lifting you, "Let's go home."

cc artwork: Xiaodi Jin

[tachimichishrine]

"sap"

⫭◦ପଓ◦⫬

tachihara machizou x fem! hirotsu's daughter! reader

warnings: nsfw ; shower sex ; oral (receiving); masturbation (m); cursing ; bondage; fluff to smut ; idk how to write warnings; unedited ill do that later

being a part of the black lizard had its fun, but some days were boring, like today; tachihara slumped his body against the wall as he stole glances at hirotsu, who seemed just as disinterested.

"cigarette?" the old man offered, placing one in his mouth and lighting it while gunshots rang out in the background. some small rival organization - even rival was a generous word - had "forgotten" to pay back the port mafia. one warning was given and they were told to go fuck themselves, so the black lizard battalion was called. apparently, this organization had some kind of powerful ability users as executives, but whoever they were, they didn't show up for the slaughter.

grunts, low level thugs and anyone else got caught in the crossfire. both mafia members watched the wall of suits fire off enough gunshots to fill up the night sky if bullets were stars.

"i still don't get why we gotta be here for this," tachihara grumbled, taking the offer and placing the plume of smoke to his lips. "seems like they just talk a whole lot of shit."

"it's never wrong to be cautious," the senior member retorted. he puckered his lips and made a ring of grey that floated listlessly in the atmosphere alongside the smell of blood. "the boss specifically warned me about a dangerous woman who could wipe out our troops in one shot."

lips curled around the cigarette, sucked on the nicotine and exhaled pure sarcasm. "yeah, well looks like she's a real pain in our asses."

a few moments passed in silence - or rather, with only white noise echoing in the abandoned warehouse, white noise being a steady stream of gunshots. it was music to both their ears - and surely enough, no one showed up. every thug had enough bullet holes in them to make the notion that a single one survived laughable. tachihara pressed his forearm to the wall and pushed himself off, stretching dramatically with a sigh.

before he could complain again about how lame this mission was, the wall exploded.

not so much an "explosion" as a deformation. it was pushed back, and tachihara barely had the time to react before a giant hole was pierced and a woman came out.

"well, fuck," she glanced at the sea of corpses on the ground, then back at tachihara with a playful smirk. "I guess you're the mafia shithead who I was just told I gotta put down. sucks that I got here late though; if you hadn't killed all my subordinates, I might've let you live, pretty boy."

she looked young, too young to be an executive. despite this, she walked with the kind of confidence that got his skin crawling in anticipation. finally, this night gets more interesting.

he pulled his guns out of their holsters and pointed them straight at her face, mimicking her expression. "you're shit out of luck, lady, 'cause I'm gonna-"

"[_____]?"

hirotsu, who had been briefly blown out of the way, came walking back in with a look of shock on his face. the redhead rolled his eyes; he didn't care whether or not the old man knew this lady, he was going to blow her brains out.

only, as his gaze reverted back onto her, she had the same expression as hirotsu did.

in fact, she was blushing, embarrassed like a schoolgirl who'd gotten caught.

"...dad?!"

what the fuck?

tachihara felt his hands lower a little as he took in the situation, and his eyes just kept darting to his superior, then to his enemy. shellshocked isn't the right word, they were looking at each other like neither had a clue what to say.

"shouldn't you be in school?!"

"dad, since when are you in the fucking mafia?!"

"language!"

the woman dropped her gun, groaning with her face in her hands, muttering to herself. "great, this is great. what the hell?! I knew you did shady business, but I didn't think-"

"is this where your university fund money has gone?" the mafioso's face was red too, from what could only be guessed to be anger mixed in with shame and shock.

"no, I'm still in class, I just... hey, don't distract me, old man. why didn't you tell me you were in the port mafia?"

"why didn't you tell me you were a gangster?!"

"because it's none of your business!"

tachihara's presence grew smaller and smaller as he watched the whole debate happen. it was awkward in a manner he couldn't describe, as he felt not only that he was intruding, but that this was definitely not something he should be listening to. he tucked his guns away, mostly out of respect for hirotsu and the fact that he wasn't about to shoot what appeared to be his daughter.

a few moments later they were hugging.

"sorry dad," she muttered as she pulled away from the embrace. "if I had known, I would've told you..."

"it's alright, but you shouldn't keep things like these from me, [_____]."

sighing, the woman chuckled nervously then promised she wouldn't. she crossed her arms and leaned her back against the deformed wall, then took a look around. she seemed to suddenly notice that tachihara was still there.

"well..." she looked at him then giggled a little, likely embarrassed about the whole situation. "I guess I'm not gonna kill you after all, huh?"

he didn't know what to say, because what is there to say? obviously, this conflict couldn't go anywhere further. thankfully, hirotsu intervened. "what will you tell your superiors?"

"no idea. they just called me to ask me to return to base to protect all of these hopeless fuckers-"

"language."

her eyes rolled. "dad, I'm not 5, I can swear. pretty boy here agrees, don't you, red?"

it took tachihara a moment to realize she was talking about him. once again, his mouth opened but his boss was quicker to respond.

"do you throw yourself at all men like this, [_____]? I thought I raised you better than that."

ignoring his comment with a wave of her hand in the air as though swatting away a fly, she continued. "as I was saying, they just called me. I could technically tell them that I got here too late and the culprits were gone, but I don't think that would bode well with the news that they just lost 90% of their entry-level grunts."

slightly annoyed, the tuffs of grey hair nodded. "you're right, they won't. what's your plan, then?"

a shrug and a pursing of lips. "no clue. you sure I can't just kill red and bring his body to-"

"why don't you just join the port mafia?"

the suggestion came from the one who had barely spoken all night. of course, he didn't think hirotsu would actually let him be used as a scapegoat, but all this banter felt useless. "since your organization is dead in the water anyways. if you just leave, they'll kill you as their final act, but if you join the mafia, you'll have protection."

another shrug. "he's not wrong," she said, "plus, I could just work with you."

hirotsu wanted to protest, but logically, they were both right. despite not wanting his daughter to get involved, he had faith in the mafia like no other member, and was loyal to no ends.

and that's how hirotsu [_____] found herself a member of the black lizard.

her father hated it, of course. the only people who knew they were related was tachihara and gin, the latter picking up on it after a while of noticing them bickering like they had a past.

over time, tachihara got snippets of the story. it seems like at some point, the old man had some sort of relationship with a woman who didn't know he was in the port mafia. time progressed, and they drifted apart. 5 years later, he saw her again with a child's hand in her own.

it was the only time hirotsu had ever requested time off from the mafia.

it was awkward, his former lover telling him that she didn't think he needed to know about it because she wanted to raise the child herself. however, that's not the kind of man he was, let alone the kind of man he'd ever been. it started by asking her name, then he wanted to be properly introduced to her. after a few years, he would have coffee with his partially estranged daughter every other month. he often sent money, which was never used out of pride. when [_____] decided to pursue her studies, she found the stash of cash her mother had been hiding and decided she didn't care for pride. apparently, she was jumped when getting home after a long day of lectures, and her use of her ability got people talking. before she knew it, she was being recruited to the underground for enough money to set her for life.

it took several years for her relationship with hirotsu to improve, but there seemed to be some kind of mutual respect between father and daughter.

not in the mafia.

"dad, I'm not going to do something just because you-"

"I'm your superior, [_____], you can't give me attitude like a teenager. and don't call me dad in these settings."

tachihara thought it was funny. she seemed to like innocently getting on her dad's nerves, and she often used him to do it. she'd get bold some nights and flirt with him right in front of the old man's face. tachihara would feel guilty if he didn't think it was fucking hilarious.

on this particular evening, she didn't seem to have anything better to do than pester him and do her absolute best to get on his nerves.

"so you're saying you've never seen him drunk? not even once?" she giggled, sitting on the table as he tried to write his report for their last mission. her feet were swinging and the table would shake with every swing of her legs, and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.

"no, look, can you just shut the fuck up for a second so I can write this?" he nearly snapped the pencil in half. her smirk only grew at the sight of him being frustrated. "do you really have nothing better to do with your time?"

"nahh." her chest vibrated with a playful chuckle. she tilted her head at him, then slammed her hand onto the pile of papers he was trying to fill in. "this is lame, paperwork isn't for our kind. c'mon, don't tell me this isn't boring you out of your mind, red. let's go do something else."

one fleeting thought of 'fuck it', and suddenly they were at a bar, downing shots like they were on a mission.

"I bet... you couldn't handle 3 more," she slurred, liquid swirling around dangerously close to the rim of the glass, threatening to spill over. somehow, her shit eating grin was unaffected by the liquor; if anything, she'd gotten worse. her fingers would settle on his thighs grip too tight and too far up, the tips of her shoes would play footsie with him, and she straight-up tried to kiss him a few times. she couldn't handle her drinks very well, and he had only now realized what a stupid decision it was to take her up on her offer.

"that's enough for the whole month, [_____]," he rolled his eyes with his signature scoff, and grabbed her wrist to push it away from where she was teasing at. "you need to go home."

"are you finally gonna take me home, pretty boy?" she tried to lean in again, and he scooted backwards. flirting with his boss' daughter for fun was one thing, but something about her demeanor tonight seemed serious. he just hoped she was too drunk to remember the blush dusting his cheekbones.

"I am going to call you a cab." he enunciated every word clearly so she understood it, but as soon as his hand reached into his pocket, she placed hers on top to stop him.

the look in her eyes looked completely sober.

"I'm serious," she whispered, and he could practically feel her gaze on his lips. her eyes darted back up to his own, but before she could say something else that would confuse him further, she seemed to realize her words and her entire face flushed a deeper colour.

she stammered something incomprehensible, threw way too much cash onto the table and walked (if you can call it that) outside. tachihara didn't know what to do, so he just watched her go. she'll probably be fine. probably.

he didn't know why his face felt so hot and his cheeks hurt from a subtle smile.

weeks later, and they'd made a tradition of skipping out on reports to go do something, anything except what they were supposed to do. walking along abandoned streets at night in hopes of picking up a fight, or going to a bar and picking someone for the other to take in a fistfight. a lot of it involved fighting. all of it, really. they'd show up to work the next day littered in matching bruises, and hirotsu's face would glow red and he'd have to excuse himself. giggling like children who knew exactly what they were doing.

tonight, tachihara got knocked out by a man twice his size, and it took her using her ability to get him to back off her partner in crime. she dragged him to her apartment to put some ice on it.

"that was really funny," she teased, tossing him a bag of assorted frozen items to place on his temple, which took the brunt of it. "I though you were really a goner for a second, there."

"ha, ha." the sarcasm was dry, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the thrill of seeing his life flash before his eyes. "I would've liked to see you try."

"an ambulance had to pick up the guy after I was done with him," she retorted, sitting on the sofa next to him with her feet up on the armrest. "actually, I've been meaning to ask you something."

a sigh in response. he took off the frozen bag from his skin and set it on the table, then looked at her. she winced.

"that's gonna need stitches, tachi," she remarked, then thought for a little bit. "I have glue somewhere, we can use that for now then have the port mafia medic fix it tomorrow, yeah?"

she didn't wait for a response, disappeared and reappeared after a string of curses thrown at herself for not being organized enough to know where she puts things. she had what was possibly medical glue but also possibly craft glue in her hands, and she glared at him. "lay down, dr. [_____] is here to save the day."

he quirked up a brow, then quickly relaxed his face after realizing the pain that was brought on by doing that. "weren't you drunk earlier tonight?"

"greatness knows not the bounds of liquor."

"what the fuck does that mean?"

she only giggled, then sat next to his head as she pinched together the skin and tried to apply the glue. her hands were shaking and it was clear she had no idea what she was doing, but tachihara prayed she was doing more good than harm. although, who knows.

"ow, ow, take it fucking easy," he grit his teeth together as she manhandled his injury. he could've sworn he saw her grinning at his pain.

"calm down princess, I'm done," she raised her hands in a sign of innocence, then took a closer look at her work.

tachihara watched in slow motion as her gaze moved further and further up his face.

"is... is your hair dyed?"

the room went dead silent. he had no idea what to respond, and for the first time since he joined the mafia, he felt stupid for letting his guard down. how did he forget to retouch his roots and then let someone get so close? how-

"you'd look really cute with black hair."

...what?

"that's your natural hair colour, right?" she kept going, raking her fingertips through his hair. "man, I feel lied to, I called you red for so long. why'd you dye it?"

"because I fuckin' felt like it," he grumbled out, having no other response. he felt such relief when she just giggled to his answer.

"fair enough. red was definitely the right colour, though. you'd look like shit if you went blonde."

he was so glad she let it go. he tried to sit upright, his head still throbbing from the pain, but she just looked at him curiously.

"I'll get you another mystery frozen item from the freezer," she laughed, getting up and rummaging through her kitchen. even with her face in the door of the fridge, she spoke, "I still haven't asked you my question from before, by the way. I just wanted to know how you got into the mafia."

out of one tight situation and into another.

he considered it; he considered it long and hard, way before she'd ever even asked the question. most of the time, if anyone asks, he'd just say it was none of their business. but he couldn't get away with that kind of response with her.

so, he told the truth.

"my... my brother joined the army during the great war. I just... I hated being compared to him by my family, so I wanted to get as far away as possible from his path, and ended up at the mafia. nothing much to it."

at least, part of the truth.

she pulled her face out of the fridge, looking at his expression for a moment. she tossed him another frozen bag and quickly sat back at his side.

"that sucks. was dying your hair also part of your rebellious phase?"

his nostrils flared at her teasing and he rolled his eyes, barely holding back a grin. "shut up."

laughing, she moved her body closer to his and put a hand on his delicately. "seriously, though, sorry to hear that your family didn't treat you right. I mean... I don't have that with my parents, but I know that it's tough being compared with someone else. but I don't know how that would apply to you. you're literally who I wanted to grow up to be."

he put down the ice pack because clearly it was affecting his hearing.

"like... I dunno. you're a badass who doesn't take shit from anybody. I mean, sure, you get your ass handed to you in bar fights and you don't have an ability, but so what? dad respects you, and so do I. not really sure how your brother compares to that."

this time, there wasn't anything to hide the stupid expression on his face. he just looked at her blankly like he'd never received a compliment in his life, which made her laugh even more.

"man, you really do have self-esteem issues, dontcha? if I had known you couldn't handle compliments, I would've said this ages ago. anyways," she got up, again, and stretched out her back, "don't worry about it, let's pretend that conversation ended there. so, are we dying your hair at your place or mine? because I don't have any dye and the store closes soon if we're gonna go buy some."

his mind could barely keep up with the way she was jumping from topic to topic. in the end, he just pushed his confession and her response to the back of his mind, and got up as well with a shrug. "my place, then. but you don't need to-"

"nonsense! I've been wanting to try to dye someone else's hair forever. plus, you're my partner in crime, I can't let anyone see that you're a big fat liar of a redhead."

her laugh felt so comforting to him. he felt like he was floating out of her apartment, out onto the street and all the way back to his own. his mind was just a blur (maybe it was from a concussion from the blow?) and in no time, he found himself sitting down with his head in between her thighs, gloved fingers massaging his scalp.

"okay, so the instructions say to rinse off and you're good!" she beamed, looking at her work proudly. "no need to thank me, by the way. despite my professional work, this one's on the house."

he chuckled, getting up and being careful not to get anything to touch the stained hair. "fine, then I won't thank you. I could've done this myself too, but you insisted, so if anything I should be charging you money."

shaking her head aggressively, she placed a finger on his lips while attempting to look solemn. "in that case, let us never speak of this again."

a few more minutes, and he was in the shower, the excess red streaming down from the water and making a puddle at his feet. she kept talking to him, loudly, from the other side of the door.

"how's it going so far?"

"it's almost all out, just be patient, damn," he laughed back, the final bits of red coming out of his hair until all the water that went through his hair came out clear. he turned off the faucet, and the stream stopped. he had barely dried his hair and wrapped a towel around his hips before he saw the door open.

"[_____], what the fuck-"

"sh, I want to see how it came out," she strolled right up to him and grabbed his face with one hand, tilting it in different directions to see all angles of his wet hair. as if he wasn't nearly naked right now. as if this was perfectly normal. "it looks good, but it's still wet so the colour doesn't show fully yet, right?"

he grabbed her hand and pulled it off of his face, looking at her seriously. "[_____], don't play dumb, you-"

"... saw an opportunity to see you shirtless, and I took it," she shot him a grin. then she suddenly seemed to get a little sad as she shook her head. "sorry, that isn't funny. um... I'll wait outside."

he watched her walk out just as quickly as she walked in. he slipped on his clothes quickly, then walked out to go find her standing at the entrance, putting on her shoes. ready to leave.

"hey, what are you..."

she cut him off, not even maintaining eye contact as she slipped her heel downwards and tied up the shoelaces. "look, tachi, I'm sorry. I just get excited sometimes and forget you don't feel the same way."

"what the fuck do you mean, don't feel the same way?"

now, her gaze met his. she looked confused. "I told you, weeks ago, that I was serious about the flirting. I even tried to kiss you, and kept dodging, so I got the message. it's fine, I get it. boss' daughter, or maybe I'm just not your type or whatever, but it's okay. I don't mind, I'm getting over it."

"holy fuck, [_____], you were drunk when you said that and I thought you were..."

he couldn't finish his thought. it was hard not to notice the hope in her eyes as she seemed to realize that he hadn't actually said no yet.

so, he said yes.

she kicked off her shoes hastily as his hands went to her waist and he pushed her back against the wall, lips eagerly devouring hers. her head slammed backwards, but her hips were pushed forwards to meet his own. her hands on his chest; one of his on her waist while the other secured itself at the base of her neck, pulling her in closer.

it was hot sweaty and fast, and they ended up back in the shower. he didn't expect her hands to roam the way they did, but she'd managed to have his entire chest coated in her touch before they even made it inside.

she murmured his name into his lips, and he responded by biting her lower lip harder. her fingertips were now on his back, his tight frame feeling warm and so right as it grinded on hers. her thigh went up to his side, and tachihara realized just how much she wanted him. fuck. he couldn't believe he waited so long for this for no reason.

he dropped down to his knees. as soon as she saw him look up, her thighs clenched together and he could feel them shaking in anticipation. he threw one leg over his shoulder and his breath barely hit her pussy before he was eating her out like a man starved.

and she was so damn loud. every flick of his tongue on her clit, every time he sucked on her lips, every thrust of his fingers inside of her, she seemed to get more vocal. at first, it was just curses, mumbling fuck like it was the only word left in her vocabulary. then his name. he'd never heard her say it like that before; she'd called him tachi sometimes, but never michizou. just the sound had him dragging his free hand from her ass down to his erection, palming himself as she kept moaning out for him. it was worse when she'd roll out the praises. fuck you feel so good... michizou, hngg... fuck keep doing it like that, you're so perfect... and she'd gasp as he sucked on her needy pussy and tell him how perfect he felt inside of her all over again.

he couldn't even handle getting her to climax before he lost control. his face was still buried between her legs, but he couldn't concentrate on the way her hips would grind on his face anymore. he needed relief and he needed it fast. she glanced down to find him pounding himself, and her hand at the back of his head gripped down on his hair and yanked him upwards. back on his feet, she brought his lips back to her own before briefly pulling away, spitting in her hand and taking his cock in it.

his forehead was pressed up against hers, but he was having trouble maintaining the kiss through broken moans and grunts. he'd try to bite his lower lip to muffle a whimper, but every time he did, she would just pump him harder until it was impossible to muffle the sounds he was making. every scream from his lips drove her pace to the next gear until he was coming undone under the soft drizzle of hot water droplets, washing down his cum from her stomach.

she took it slower, gentler as he felt so fucking raw from falling apart so fast under her touch. she let go of him and placed his cock between her thighs and pressed them together, letting him rock his hips and fuck them as she kisses him again. her lips get rougher, as she goes from peppering his jawline with love to nibbling on his earlobe to piercing his skin and leaving marks on his neck that won't go away anytime soon. he arcs his neck backwards, tilting his chin upwards to give her better access as she gets greedier and greedier, taste of his flesh intoxicating her.

"michizou..." she sighed into his skin, then brought his face back up to her level, one hand in his hair and the other positioned on his abdomen as her thighs are glistening from the hot water vapor of the shower, her arousal trickling down and the pre-cum already leaking out his tip. "fuck, michizou, your body... you're so gorgeous, I just want to wreck you until you forget your own fucking name." her words weren't particularly sultry or pretty, but the way she was murmuring it into another kiss got him hard all over again.

"baby, can we... bedroom..." the ask barely left her lips before his hands went onto her hips, lifting her up a little bit as they stumbled out of the shower, barely wiped themselves dry with the towels and connected their mouths again as he pulled her to his room. she backed him inside then pushed his shoulders, his back bouncing on the mattress as he realized this was the first time he was seeing her, fully bare in front of him, in his bedroom. just the sight of her perky tits and curves got saliva pooling under his tongue and eyes scanning her hungrily.

she turned her head around, looking in his room for a few moments before opening drawers and boxes like she was in a hurry to locate something. he shot her a look.

"[_____], what are you..."

she pulled out two belts from a drawer with a grin on her lips.

fuck.

she murmured something about not needing to do this if he didn't want to as she climbed on top of him and kissed him gently, but he just rutted his hips upwards in a desperate motion to show her just how much he wanted her.

in one motion, his wrists were tied together with the first belt and pinned above his head. in another, he was biting down on worn leather and a makeshift gag was soaking up all the drool he couldn't control. that was the point: he couldn't control anything. and it felt so fucking amazing.

she kept stealing glances at him as she checked to make sure he was still on board, and when he gave her a slow nod, she flipped him onto his stomach and secured his hips under her own, legs spread out over his ass.

with only her hips, she pushed him downwards so that his dick pushed up against the sheets and the mattress. she knew it wasn't enough to do anything but edge him until he went mad, and no matter how much the bed was shaking and the frame was creaking, it wouldn't be as good as what he felt fucking her thighs. but the view was so damn pretty: his face drowning messily in the sheets, mouth gagged and wrists tied together. she grabbed a handful of his wet hair and yanked him back as she grinded slowly on his ass, dripping lustfully onto him.

it was fun edging him, but the muffled whimpers signaled he was desperate. giving into his desires, she plunged her hand between his parted legs and gripped onto his cock which was humping the mattress. she just held him with a hard grip, and he did all the work for himself, thrusting his hips as well as he could while pinned down by her weight and restrained. tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes. he wanted to tell her how badly he needed her, but the damn gag was turning his pleas into muffled whimpers and moans.

she finally let him out from under her body and flipped him onto his back, but not before stealing in a smack on his ass, which was now coated in her pussy's tears.

"want me to fuck you, baby?" she murmured with a smirk, leaning down to let her lips brush up against the shell of his ear. "is that what you wanna say?"

he nodded hastily, no more shame as now the only thing he could feel was the need for her tight pussy around him. she loosened the gag, then slid it off of his mouth in order to kiss him again. "I wanna hear you. I wanna hear your pretty voice telling me how good I'm fucking your cock, yeah? can you do that for me, michi?"

he couldn't even respond as she lowered herself onto him and dragged a long moan from deep within his lungs, which were on fire. he could barely breathe, he could barely think. all he could do was what she told him and jut his hips upwards to hit her as deep as possible. all the control she had and she couldn't help but curl her toes and dig her fingernails into his shoulders as he screamed out her name and groaned with every thrust. his eyes squeezed shut as he let the feeling wash over him, but they didn't stay that way for long as they locked onto her tits, which were bouncing up and down with her on him, not to mention her face was hot and her hair was still wet from the shower.

it was too much, too fast, despite the slow build up she forced him to endure, suddenly he found himself choking as he tried to tell her that he was close. she was first; walls collapsed around him and she exhaled a thready verse of his name. she finally let him pull out at the last minute, and he came all over himself, stomach coated in the warm sticky liquid. her chest rose and fell with every heavy breath as she watched him, then unfastened the restraints around his wrists.

he wiped his stomach clean with one of the sheets and tossed it somewhere in the corner, a problem for tomorrow, then slipped under the rest of them.

she shot him a hesitant look. "do you want... can I stay?"

he grabbed her wrist and pulled her body onto his, then pressed a lazy kiss on her forehead. "always."

"sap," she teased, snuggling into his warmth and wrapping her arms around his waist. "my dad is gonna go fucking feral when he hears about this."

a gentle chuckle. "isn't that what you've been tryin' to do ever since day 1?"

"shut up, sap," she grumbled into his chest, eyes fluttering shut as she remembers his hair then fluffs it. she craned her neck upwards to get a better look, and smiled softly. "the dye turned out well."

"next time, I'll let the colour grow out," he whispered, dreamy amber eyes looking at her through low eyelids, "since you said it would look cute."

"sap!" she cried out again dramatically, then kissed him slowly again before looking at his face again. "I really did mean it, by the way. when I said that you're perfect to me."

he blushed; somehow, that was what brought the most colour to his face all night. still, he was without a response. he just slid his fingers up her back and pulled her closer. he buried his nose in the top of her head before he thought of a response. "sap."

"shut up."

they giggled and fell asleep in a world where everything was right.

[weaveandwood]

Midwinter in Waterdeep: Part Two

Gale/Tav | Angst & Pining | Read on AO3 | Read Part One | Read Part Three

Summary:

After the defeat of the Netherbrain, Gale Dekarios was a wizard of intentionally lesser renown, a respected professor at Blackstaff Academy, and engaged to the love of his life. His life was enchanted until he came home to an empty tower, and he has been seeing ghosts ever since.

He saw her ghost everywhere.  She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. 

AN: There will be a Part 3 to conclude this and it will be out later this weekend. Thank you all so much for your support on what was supposed to be a one-shot that has taken over my brain completely.

He saw her ghost everywhere. 

She haunted him the first day when he got home from teaching. The house was too quiet, and as he set his bag down in the entryway, he saw the ring. He saw the note. I’m sorry. I can’t do this. He knew her leaving was inevitable the more their conversations became stilted, the more they floated in each other's orbits, the more foreign her touch became. But the tower still smelled like her, still felt like her presence was just around the corner. Still felt like they could have had a chance to fix things. He heard her in his head all night long as he wept in his study. 

It’s not real. She’s not here.  

She haunted him on his walk back from visiting his mother two weeks later, the first time he left his house. He had tried to lay low after she left him, but her name followed him like a poltergeist from the mouths of those he passed on the street, whispering to their friends about who he was, who she was. Wondering how it ended.

It's not real. She’s not here. 

She haunted him when he was in the market four months after she left. He didn’t want to be there. Everything reminded him of her - the cart they would visit once a tenday to buy her favorite sweet rolls, the jewelry store he visited in secret to get her silver ring that was still on the entry table gathering dust. He saw a flash of her hair color and froze. When time regained its ability to move forward he strained his neck, pushing through the crowd searching for her, unable to breathe. Could it be her? Where had she been all these weeks? Was she okay? Had she moved on with someone else who was less tied down by routine? Was she even still alive? 

It wasn’t her, of course. He didn’t go to the market again after that. He still hasn’t.

It’s not real. She’s not here. 

Seasons passed. Festivals, new apprentices, weekly dinners with colleagues - life fell into a rhythm that helped him move forward. He saw her ghost less and less. It had been almost 6 months since the last haunting. He had finally tucked the silver ring into a drawer two tendays ago, an attempt to bury the what ifs and if onlys and begin to exorcize her from his memory at last. Midwinter in Waterdeep was upon him, and he was eager to engage in festivities that evening with colleagues, now friends. A few cups of wine and he felt like the old Gale, showing off a little by using his well-honed magic to create fireworks to fill the room with light and color.

As the illusion sparked and fizzled out to the delight and applause of the other partygoers, a familiar wisp settled itself in the peripheries of his mind. She always loved his illusions, from their first night together with the aurora and the sparkling stars to the smaller ones he created for her everyday in the beginning. If he had kept trying to make her happy, would she have left? If he had noticed her pulling away as he settled into the routine of his life, could he have brought her closer instead of making her feel like her only option was to run?

He set his cup down, the wine steering him toward paths his brain wasn’t ready to go back down yet, preferring to stay focused on the revelry at hand. The snow flurries caught his eye through the large picture window in the front room. He had always loved the snow and moved to the window to watch it in contemplative silence.

He froze, his eyes widened, breath caught in his throat.

Her ghost. Haunting him even here, even now, after all this time. Her hair, her eyes, everything just as he remembered from the morning she left him, standing across the street looking into the window he was currently occupying. Looking at him. He saw the ghost’s eyes widen, saw her quickly turn to walk away, to escape discovery. He wanted to hesitate. He wanted to accept it was just another vision brought on by too many cups of wine, another falsehood of his imagination...but one tiny spark of hope pulled at his mind. 

The ghost had never reacted to him like that before. 

He didn’t remember moving. He didn’t remember running out of the door, the rest of the partygoers gasping as the usually reserved Gale Dekarios knocked over a chair and pushed people out of his way. He didn’t remember the bite of the cold air. He didn’t remember yelling “Stop!” as the ghost moved quickly away, trying to toy with him, as always. He didn’t remember running down the street to catch up to the ghost, preparing himself for it to disappear as usual. He didn’t remember the desperation on his face or in his voice as he reached for her.

He remembered grabbing on to the ghost’s hand, feeling it solid in his. His heart pounded.

“Wait. Please,” he said, panting. The ghost turned around, but it wasn’t a ghost at all. 

She was real.  She was here.  

“Gale,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

“You’re real. You’re here,” he whispered back, wrapping her in his arms, committing to memory how she felt as he held her tightly for the first time in over a year. It was only then he realized that her absence had permeated every facet of his being and he felt like he could finally breathe again. His lips crashed against hers, time standing still for the two of them as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

She took a step back, breaking their contact, looking down at the ground.

He knew. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Tomorrow,” she nodded, a tear falling down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

He placed his hands on both sides of her face, brushing away her sadness before kissing her deeply one more time.

Real. Here. 

“Then let me have tonight.”

[dewsgremlin]

The ghouls before being ghouls 💫

Part: Rain

cw: drowning

The ghouls were once human, before they sold their souls and gave up humanity. Most of them, anyway, because not everyone had to sell their soul. For some, it was a way of making amends.

Rain, for example, grew up in the Victorian era. His family was very wealthy thanks to their involvement in the construction of the railway. Accordingly, Rain was sent to a prestigious private school, where he was one of the best students. With five older sisters and two older brothers, Rain was the youngest child.

Rain has always been very sickly. Whether that was due to the poisonous substances such as mercury, arsenic or radium which were contained in many things at that time or because he suffered from extreme nightmares since early childhood.

His parents took him to the best doctors, but nothing seemed to help. Neither the medicine nor the most bizarre treatments like leech, phosphor or vomiting helped. Rain remained sickly and hardly slept a night without nightmares.

In any case, it was the nightmares that ultimately caused Rain to end up in the mental asylum.

For a delicate soul like Rain, this was the worst thing that could have been done to him. Locked up in a huge building with grey and cold stone walls, surrounded by an iron fence whose spikes rose sharply and threateningly into the sky and threatened to cut anyone who dared to climb over. Whenever Rain had the chance, he wandered along the iron fence in the garden. How small his world had suddenly become. Before, he had been able to go wherever he wanted - now he had to ask permission if he wanted to use the toilet.

His treatments took place in the mornings. He was usually led into a small, stuffy room with barred windows that barely let in any light, so thick was the layer of dirt on the glass. But it wasn't just the window that was dirty - the metal instruments that the doctor used on Rain also looked as if they had definitely not been cleaned since they had last been used.

Numerous diagnoses were made, from physical causes to mental causes. Finally, it was said that Rain had hysteria - a mental illness that is actually mostly attributed to women. This is due to Rain's gentle disposition, his family explained when the doctor announced it. Rain himself said nothing about it, he just wanted to get out. The sometimes painful treatments only seemed to worsen his condition. His dark circles under his eyes became darker, his nightmares worse and Rain became more and more desperate.

Ironically, Rain drowned when he tried to escape the cruel treatment in the asylum and stumbled into the small duck pond, completely dazed by the pills he had been given.

The icy water was like a sharp slice of reality penetrating Rain's foggy brain. His lungs burned as the water forced its way in. His whole body screamed for oxygen, his vision turned black. So that was the end of him. Drowned in a pond, pumped full of medication laced with mercury. So many unfulfilled dreams that went down with Rain. His heartbeat got weaker and his attempts to stay above water became more and more difficult.

Rain's pale body was floating lifelessly when suddenly a strong, burning hot hand grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him out of the water with a jerk. The heart in Rain's chest had stopped beating, but something seemed to be keeping him alive. Something, or rather someone...

"It's too early for you, my boy. I have another plan for you."

[itbmojojoejo]

Riverside Encounter / Finan x Fem!Reader

Summary: An evening at the river to cool off leads to an unexpected meeting with your favourite patron.

Wordcount: 1.04k

Authors Note: Don't ask me what this is, well it's a smutty one shot - there was a heat wave and I just wanted this man nude with water droplets on his body. It's barely edited, and honestly, I am both shocked and pleased I managed to get some words written.

I dedicate this covid brain fog fever dream to my beloved @persephones-journey, on this here, fine Finan Friday 💜

You stared up at crinkled clouds thinly veiling the sky, the lumbering river gently rippling against your floating body. Its coolness brought a well-needed reprieve from the sticky summer heat, even in the early evening the day's warmth lingered too close for comfort. 

Having walked further up the waterbank than most others normally do, you sighed hearing another person enter the water close by. A few moments later you turned your head to the side ever so slightly, catching the sight of the Irishman you happened to know well surfacing from under the slow currant. 

As he came to a full stand the disturbed water cascaded down his body and you didn’t know where to look. The droplets carving pathways down his toned shoulders and chest, or his ringed  hands wiping the water from his eyes, perhaps you should have diverted your eyes back to the sky but he’d already focused on you before you had the chance. 

“You follow me out here?” Finan playfully accused, his brows pulling together with a smile. 

You scoffed, “You found me.” 

“So I did,” He nodded, taking in your form, “I’ve not seen you for a few days…”

“Were you worried I’d been stolen away?” You teased, finally looking back to the sky. 

“I might’ve been.”

With a sigh you sank your body into the water, the cold rocky riverbed pressing into the soles of your feet.

You’d taken some time away from the inn, you only wanted some quiet rest before returning back to the men who kept your purse full but it was always different speaking with them outside of those walls. Especially Finan, your favourite patron. 

He had a way about him, his words always left a pinch of heat in your cheeks, the smiles and laughter came naturally, his precise touch welcomed. You couldn’t be certain which one of you enjoyed your time together more. 

Finan’s umber eyes danced over your chest before finding your eyes, “When do you plan to return?”

“Why? Don’t you like the other girls?” You asked, squeezing water from your hair. 

He chuckled, “The others are fine,” His lips moved to finish his sentence then clamped shut. 

A smile began to play on your lips as you braved a step closer, pressing him for more, “But?”

“Well,” He cleared his throat, “They’re not  you.”

“Mm, I had heard you tend to spend less time with them.”

He smiled down at his hands swirling in the water, another step taken closer, “The same can be said about you.” 

He was right, and you couldn’t deny it. Other men felt like a chore, but never him. 

“It’s a dangerous thing to have favourites.” You spoke quietly, taking the final step leaving mere inches between the pair of you.

“You got that right.” Finan breathed, dark eyes focusing on your lips. 

His hand travelling up your arm to push away the damp hair coiled against your neck heated your skin in a way the sun never could, and as he  settled there, his thumb brushed along your jaw, tilting your chin up. 

Your lips met slowly, gliding over each other with familiarity, and your hands found his hips, pulling him further into you. The tickling sensation of his fingers lightly grazing up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts to join his other hand on your neck left you humming a smile against his lips. 

As tongues met, deepening the connection your arms raised to wrap around his shoulders, his fell to wind around your waist, a hunger growing. 

Allowing him to lift you and drift deeper out into the river, the pair of you got lost in each other, water flowing against your entwined bodies, hands lazily roaming, lips leaving searing impressions on lips, jaws, cheeks, necks and shoulders all the while trying to stay afloat. 

“Let me have you?” Finan rasped, hooded eyes searching yours. 

You stammered, struggling for an answer, brain fogged with desire and craving more of his touch.

“If it’s a question of payment-”

“-No, Finan,” You kissed him quickly to prevent him saying anything more, giving him a soft look, “Not in the water.”

Within moments he had you on the riverbank, settling into the grass with you straddling him. 

Finan’s hand knotted into your damp hair, the other slipping to the apex of your spread thighs and your lips captured his once more, a soft moan slipping from you to him as he delicately circled your clit, slowly working you up. 

Growing impatient you knocked his hand away, taking hold of his cock and lining him up with your slick entrance. He hissed through gritted teeth, tightening his hold on your hair  as you sank down on his length, your walls stretching around him deliciously. 

You began to grind your hips against his with shaky breaths, hands grabbing at his drying scarred shoulders and he buried his face in your chest, lavishing your breasts with hot wet kisses. 

His hands caressed down your spin, settling in the divots at the small of your back, aiding your movements as his tongue flicked across a peaked nipple, a sweet little whimper tumbling from your lips when he rolled it in his teeth. 

Tugging on his hair, your mouths crashed together, ecstasy coursing through your veins, clouding your mind and warming your core as rough fingers dug into your skin, he moaned against you as you began to bounce on his cock, relishing in how good he felt.

His arms wound around you, gripping you in a vice-like hold, his teeth nipping at your chest and shoulders where they could and his thighs trembled under you as he cursed into the summer evening, filling you with his spend. 

You didn’t stop, desperately chasing your own release, spurred on by the pained whines escaping Finan with your walls clenching around him, your own strained gasps filling the air when euphoria quickly spread through you. 

Catching your breath he peppered kisses along your jaw, dark amber eyes looking satisfied, “How much do I owe you?”

You laughed, “Seriously?”

“That is usually how this goes?” He stared, confused. 

“When I am working, yes, but this isn’t…” 

“This is because you wanted to,” Finan’s eyes softened, his hands smoothing along your thighs. 

End Note: I uh could do a part 2 with a little Finan POV of this encounter, maybe, if you'd like...

[casual-praxis]

Okay, so I know I said I wasn't going to do much with this AU since I was focused on a different one at the time (and I still am), but I've been thinking about the post-canon for this AU a bunch and I couldn't get it out of my head.

The designs are fairly simple (most changes occur post-canon), but there's still a few details in there that I'd like to talk about! Peep below the cut for more yappin' if you'd like.

(I just figured out how to add line breaks yeehaw)

I started with Green since I had the clearest picture of her in mind. I like to think they all got a mishmash of traits from the original Link here, so Green has the og Link's ponytail, but its length was divided between her and Red. All in all, she resembles Link the closest but isn't an exact match. I also made the executive decision that she simps for Zelda. She's just really worried about her future girlfriend, okay?

Blue didn't quite turn out how I'd hoped, but if I ever do something more with this stage of the AU, I can always make adjustments. Her hair is supposed to be the fluffiest, matching the og Link's texture. She's a little insecure about it making her look "too girly" or cute since that's not at all the image she wants to have, but she learns over time that being cute and badass can still go hand in hand.

Red is the one I was looking forward to drawing most, but she's still fairly simple as well. She wears her hair in a side ponytail to "not step on Green's toes", but also because she thinks it's cute (she and Blue don't see eye to eye on this early on, as you can imagine). She has a bomb-shaped hairbow that she made herself (tying into her post-canon shenanigans), but I haven't yet figured out when she acquires it.

Vio was supposed to be holding her bow here but I couldn't quite figure out how to draw it at that specific angle, so it's in hammerspace for now. Outside that, Vio's design has the most variety. She's meant to learn emotions over time within this au, and this progression is marked by the flowers in her hair. She starts out with none, but as they journey, Red starts to teach her the basics, and with it weaves Zelda's favorite flower into her braid. Once she joins up with Shadow, she's gifted a violet (because Shadow thinks it's punny, and for subtext reasons) that she starts using to pin her bangs out of her face. The flowers begin to wilt as time goes on, first the wildflowers, then the violet, until none remain and the final act is approaching. Shadow gives her one last violet before dying, though Vio doesn't actually start wearing it until the Four Sword is put back and they remain behind. Lots of lore for this one.

Finally is Shadow, who I'm actually surprised turned out so well. I went back and forth on whether I wanted her to wear the hat or not, but I ended up deciding against it since none of the others wear their hats either. Her hair pretty much acts like Shadow's hat in canon, it moves independently of her and the tips of it are smokey and wisp around. Along with Red, I have decided she is short. It just felt right. She does have claws and fangs, but she keeps them a little more on the down low until a suitably dramatic moment occurs to reveal them.

And that's all that comes to mind for now. I've had this idea floating around in my brain since I got back into the fandom, but never had the motivation to poke it too much and see what it do.

The post-canon is what I've mainly been focused on, so maybe I'll try and doodle a few things for it sometime. I took inspiration from one of the bonus comics in the manga where they all stay split after the sword goes back, so that's the canon ending for this au.

It goes fairly far into the future, with all of them settling into their own lives somewhat independent of each other (they all see each other multiple times a week with the exception of Vio, who travels a lot with Shadow ((who may or may not have been brought back through dubious dark magic rituals))).

The brainrot is real, but hopefully entertaining for anyone who made it this far.

[biggestsimp12]

Let me show you how much i've missed you.

----------------------------------

(this has been sitting in my drafts for a week now =w=)

! HUGE SPOILERS (sumeru quest)!

(angst with fluff at the end)

(Wanted to do this in 2 parts but scratch that)

---------------————————

You were finally free. You finally escaped that cursed place once and forever.

You ran as screams of terror and agony could be heard behind you, slowly fading away.

Flashbacks from previous minutes floaded your mind, ringing in your brain over and over again.

--

You were captured and selled by some mora-thirst people to a psychopatic inazumian scientist. They kept experimenting your powers, trying to create changes wich caused you extreme pain, yet little to no change. The scientist took advantage of your immortality to insert all sorts of chemicals in your blood. While he was preparing another dose for one of his endless experiments on you, he accidentally dropped one of his glass tube, causing a big explosion to occur. Creating a sheild around you, you covered your eyes, loud noises echoing through the room. Smoke started to fill your senses, taking your hands off your eyes, watching in horror the sight in front of you. The whole lab was on fire, quickly devouring every inch of the building. Your eyes landed on the trapped figure in front of you. The scientist was being crushed almost to death by thick metal bar. Seeing you staring at him, he ordered you to help. Receiving no answer, he repeated once more, his command turning to pleading to desperately begging you to help him as fire quickly made its way to him. You looked at him almost in a pity full way, heading to the exit, the key word being almost. You started running out hearing your torturers cries for you not to.

--

You stopped at the only place you knew by heart. Or at least, used to. The chinju forest.

You sat down by a tree trying to catch your breath. You looked down at your freshly cut feet, all covered in blood. You must have cut yourself on the tons of broken glass left in the lab due to the explosion.

You slowly made your way to the small river, sitting down at its edge. You gently washed your feet wincing in pain when touching a deeper cut.

Your only goul now was to reunite with him once more.

-----------———————

Present day (before Nahida ereased everyones memories)

————————-----------

You don't know how much it passed. One century? Maybe 2, 3, 4? You had no idea. Your worst fear was statring to become true. What if you'll never see him again? What if he was dead? Even if not, did he still love you as much as you did? What if he wasn't the same? (even if he wasn't, you'll still accept him either way) Your thoughts were interrupted by bumping into something. Wait no. Someone.

Hey, watch where you're going! A high pitched fairy said, staring at you as you were some kind of criminal.

I'm deeply sorry little floating gi-

Oh no! *I think they look like some fatui! Yikes, not again!* Wait.. Did you just call me floating little girl!? The blonde girl/boy beside her started laughing at her little floating companions change of attitude. The blonde one looked at you, analyzing you as well.

Paimon, i don't fatuis have such type of masks. Besides they don't look like they did it on purpose.

What are fatuis?

They both stared at you in shock as if you just said that you got a bomb and its about to explode.

How could you not know what fatuis are?! Have you been living under a rock!?

Uhm could you stop yelling? I'm right beside you.

Sorry for her. She can over react some times. I'm Aether /Lumine and this is Paimon. Now, do you seriously do not know who the fatui are?

Y/N, nice to meet you. And no i haven't. Could you explain it to me? If you don't mind of course.

Of course we don't!

Ooh~ Paimon wants to tell them! Can i, please, please, please, please, pleaseeee?

------------—————

After exchanging both pasts and explaining about the fatuis

————————------

Yeah! And theres a scary doctor whos experimenting people and! and!

You frowned as you heard the word "experiment", bad memories floading your head. Paimon took notice of this as she started apologizing.

Oh, i'm sorry! Paimon didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!

You looked up at the small fairy beside you, giving her a weak smile.

Don't worry that was hundred of years ago. I'm glad there's someone who understands how i feel. I'm deeply sorry Lumine/Aether. I did see a girl/boy similar to you but that was a long time ago. Did you at least get to see her/him again?

One or two times. Yet she/he was so different than when we used to travel together. What about you? Have you gotten to see this person?

Your smile faded as you sighed.

I wish i did, he was such a sweetheart. It broke my heart seeing him cry like that while we got separated. Before they knocked me out i screamed a promise.

You smiled again looking down at your feet.

What promise did you make?

Paimon looked at you, captured by your story. You laughed at her cuteness, remembering your promise perfectly.

"I promise i'll search for you darling. No matter how bad the weather or bad the health, i'll always be searching. Our love shall never die, for i be forever searching, nobody can tear our love apart and i shall never lie."

Waaah (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ Paimon thinks this is so sweet! What if you don't see him again??

The little floating girl said, hugging you tightly.

Don't worry Paimon. I haven't given up yet. He must somewhere in this world. If not i'll start traveling the worlds for him.

You said trying to get your hopes up. In reality you had no idea where he could be. You did in fact travel multiple worlds only to be stuck at the start line back in teyvat. You sighed, changing the subject to enlighten the mood.

After deciding to join them in their journey, you both made your way to the Sumeru City.

--------————

Timeskip after saving Nahida

————--------

Woah... Who would've thought there's place like this hidden right slap bang in the middle of the city!

The sages wanted to realize their god creation plan without being discovered. The safest and most convenient way would be to build within the Akademiya itself.

They are already hiding a god, so why not 2?

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. What was this all fatui thing and fake god that they were talking about? If so, how come you never heard about them? Your thoughts were interrupted when Paimon spoke again.

Paimon knows that he was a prototype puppet for the Raiden Shogun before he became a Fatui Harbinger...

You stare at Paimon in shock. Did they know him all along? How come they never told you about this? Yeah the traveler said he/she had some vision about the Balladeer but they never told who he actually was. All these questions swelling up in your head made you furious yet sad at the same time.

You 2 sure seem to know about him quite well. Yet there is a certain person who has more knowledge about him and his past. In fact they were very close for that matter.

The traveler and Paimon looked confused at Nahida. The little elf like archon took your hand before speaking.

Y/N. I know you were searching him for a long time. Could you tell us what you know about him?

Wait.. Y/N!? The person you were searching is him?! But how!? When you were talking about him, he sounded so nice and sweet! He's literally nothing close that! He is an arrogant little-

Paimon, please do not jump to conclusions. We do not what occured in his life to change his behavior like that. So Y/N. How did you exactly meet?

Well.. I was walking through chinju forest when i heard something. I started investigating, trying to find the source of it when i tripped and fell into the water. A figure approached me asking me if i was alright. It was a boy in a white strange yet beautiful outfit. I stared at him for a while. His whole feauters didn't look much human. He looked like those gorgeous puppets you see in the kid theaters. He landed me his hand and hesitantly took it. Later on i learned his name and how he got there-

Oh so scaramouche right?

Paimon it is impolite to interrupt someone.

Nahida looked at Paimon, scolding her.

No its alright. His name isn't Scaramouche. Or at least it wasn't when i met him. He told me to call him Kunikuzushi.

After that i invited him to live with me, since he didn't have anywhere else to go. We then fell in love but it didn't last long due to those horrible people that took me. From that day on i never saw him at least once. What happend to him after is still unkown to me.

You finished with a sigh looking down at the little archon in front of you.

She nodded, putting her hand on her chin in a thinking way.

It seems that the occurrence of this events damaged both of your physical and mental health, on your side as much as his. We need to be as careful as possible when approaching him. We don't know what type of manifestation we will get out of him. Now, without further ado, our time is pretty much limited just like a candle on fire. Let's go.

------———

Mini time skip

———------

Looking at its operational status, we must prepare for the worst. The god they wanted to create... is likely close to completion, or already completed.

Paimon floated behind you pushing you forward gently.

If someone should go first it should be Y/N right? No offense Y/N but it's your lover.

You sighed looking at the little scared girl behind you.

As much i would love to talk to him, i don't think he would listen.

Y/N is right. We can't just burst all that Information like that. It could disadvantage us in battle strategy but also cooperation with him. I'm curious of what our fate may be. To me, everything we perceive in this world, everything we learn, and everything that happens to us is considered knowledge. However, only fate is about that which has yet to occur, so it has always drawn my curiosity. So to me, "fate" is the ultimate knowledge.

And now, at long last, I'm not just an observer anymore.

I will personally experience my own fate, with you by my side. Hehe, isn't this such a wonderfully exciting thing?

The dendro archon smiled at you three, closing her eyes. Okay, let's continue on. I can sense "his" aura from here... You watched in disbelief at the sight that standed before your eyes as you made your way further. It was in fact the boy you've been desperate to find again yet.. He looked so different.. So, lifeless.

Nahida used her magic as the blue haired boy had awoken.

The robot copied the puppets moves, making a strong wind.

The boy smiled scanning the sight before him.

Who would have thought... The world would be so eager for my "birth"

I remember you

The boy said looking at Nahida

Buer, the God of Wisdom... And standing beside you the Traveler

He said as his eyes finally reach you

And...

His eyes widened, facade dropping a little then going back on.

My.. My, what do we have here? Honestly i didn't think you'll have the guts to show yourself before me after cruelly abandoning me like that. I see you've changed. But dear so did i.

He said, venom within his words.

You watched him, tears welling in your eyes. Voice trapped in your throat, you could only watch him spitting his point of view of the past that you once shared. He did in fact change. You could see the actual Kunikuzushi behind. He was not evil, just hurt. And you knew it.

The Balladeer has already become a god...?

You listened to the conversation Paimon and Nahida had behind you.

"The Balladeer" A long bygone title..

When my spirit ascended to divinity

I felt as if I had existed for the same number of epochs as heaven and earth

Looking back

The existence of what once called itself "Kunikuzushi" appears infinitely small... and ugly

You couldn't believe what was happening right now. This was all your fault. If you knew how to fight that day, none of this events would have existed now. Seeing your uneasy state Nahida took your hand and spoke.

None if these are your fault Y/N. Life has its ups and downs that seem to affect not just human lifes, but immortal creatures both in good and bad ways as well. Everyone creates and has his own destiny. And now, you choose if you want to make a change or not.

Nahida said, looking up the "god" in front of you.

What a cute yet pathetic little speech. You should know that wisdom cannot solve every problem. Like now, where your only option is to face me in combat.

Come.. Let us reenact a scene of the Archon War. Come and inaugurate my birth as a god.

The traveler raised his/her sword as the battle begin

---———

You helped Aether/Lumine get up, watching the giant robot collapse.

Humans... filthy humans...!

The "god" spitted out, not wanting to accept defeat. The small archon flew closer to him, using her magic to take his gnosis. Noticing this the boy started panicking, looking at Nahida desperately.

No! Please! Anything but the gnosis..!

The boy begged, breaking the bots face plate.

That's mine! Don't even try..!

He said trying to hold a grasp of the gnosis, Wires slowly breaking behind him.

I'll..! I'll never go back!

He gave you a small glance, a desperate look on his face. Your heart only could ache at the sight of him being so hurt.

Y/N plea-

Before the boy could finished Nahida reached his gnosis, wires finally breaking, proceeding to make him fall, a lifeless look on his growing bigger by each second. You quickly rushed into catching him, fear rushing through your blood as you used your powers to create a sheild bubble around you 2. You watched his features as you slowly floated your way to the ground. You hugged him, visible tears running down your face. Nahida landed beside you giving you a sympathy look after returning to the traveler.

We haven't yet found the answer to the most important mystery.

Irminsul is still waiting to be saved.

------———

Time skip after Nahida ereased everyones memories

———------

You were not sure why you were crying a moment before just now. The traveler and Paimon exchanged looks before Paimon asked.

Do you remember what happend at the academia?

You gave Paimon a confused look before thinking at the previous events these days. Confused you told Paimon what you knew.

Uh.. We saved Nahida and sumeru. Why?

Paimon gave you a shocked expression.

Do you seriously not remember him??

Am i missing something?

You asked clearly confused.

You were searching for him remember?? You guys promised to search for each other! We just fought with him! You have to remember!

I think we should leave them alone Paimon.. Its not going to work if you press them like that. Let's go...

Aether/Lumine whispered to the little fairy.

Y/N we have to go. See you around!

Bye..?

---———

You walked around the Sumeru City, making some groceries. It's been a week since you and the traveler saved the irminsul. Something was missing yet you couldn't quite catch what. Paimons words from previous weeks ringed through your head, trying to find the answer to your curiosity.

Hey Y/N, over here!

You turned around to see Paimon and the traveler. Beside them there was another person facing another derection.

This is ridiculous.

Paimon pushed the big hat boy further giving him a thumbs up. You couldn't really see his face due him looking down.

Hi. My name is Y/N! Nice to meet you-

Upon seeing his face, memories click in your mind, now remembering it all. He was the person Paimon talked about. He was the person you were desperately searching all these centuries.

Kunikuzushi.

The boy looked shocked yet relieved. You took him into your arms, embracing him as if he would disappear. Paimon and the traveler smiled, leaving you two be.

I've missed you so much. W-where have you been all this time? How come could i never get to stumble upon you?

You said voice shaking from happiness.

It's not important. There are many things i regret in my past that i don't want to make you worry about. Right now, let me show you how much i've missed you.

---———

The end >¬>

Have a nice day/night

[shinycollarboneapologist]

gorgeous

ficlet to the taylor!verse, based on THIS request. or the day matty and reader met :D 

content: no p in v sex but still kind of smutty, HEAVY PETTING, tw: one direction mention, reader was in a disney channel tv show

“aren’t you from one direction?” it comes out before your inebriated brain can stop the neural impulse from floating to your lips. he stares at you, blankly, blinking only after he realizes you’re probably not joking.

the club is loud, he almost feels as if he’s misheard you. and it had been over an hour before he was able to actually catch your eye. he had been trying since he got here, wanting to be pulled under your ephemeral gaze. each time he thought you were going to finally give him the time of day, you would only pull your eyes away and fall back into a steady conversation with whomever was in front of you. matty normally never had to fight for attention, usually people would flock to him and tell him how good his music was, how intelligent he was. yet, here he was having to fight tooth and nail for you to even look at him.

now that he’s got your attention, undivided and slightly unnerving, he doesn’t want to let it go.

“fuck you’re mean,” he exhales, shaking his head.

and you laugh, head rolling back as you bring your voice down an octave, darkening the timbre of your words as you mock him.

“i do not sound like that.” the foreboding crinkle in his forehead and frown on his lips is lessened by the sparkle in his eyes.

“yeah, you do, actually,” you’re unrelenting in your teasing, hand coming up to touch his forearm, “but it’s okay.”

he scoffs, yet he’s unable to ignore the radiating feeling of sparks going up his arm as your hand touches his skin. he glances down at your manicured fingers, throat feeling tight as his mind drifts to a filthy place far away from the club and even farther away from where he wants to be with you. he downs the rest of his drink, imagining its you on his lips, and returns his gaze to your bright eyes.

“you know, i’ve actually been trying to talk to you all night,” he confesses.

“have you?” you ponder, tilting an eyebrow up.

he nods, cheeks flushing as he smiles bashfully like a child caught stealing a bite of dessert before dinner, “yeah. i have, actually.”

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his stare from across the room. his eyes had been locked on you since you entered, drawn to your magnetic demeanor in the darkened haze of the club. taylor had mentioned that she invited someone she wanted you to meet and by the looks of her watching the two of you interact from the corner of the room, her wish was coming true.

“could tell actually, you’ve been staring at me all night,” conversing with him is playful, light, easy. you offer him your hand and your name. he gladly takes it, enjoying the way your soft skin feels against his.

“i know, s’kinda embarrassing but your poster is on my wall back home.” he’s gleaming down at you, twinkle in his eye, “i’m matty.”

“matty,” you repeat, returning his smile with one of your own. your hand lingers in his for a little longer than expected, and there’s a slight desire for you to tangle your fingers with his. you shake off the feeling though, letting your hands fall apart naturally. he eyes you, quirking his head to the side.

“can i get you a drink?”

you oblige happily.

one drink turns into two. which then leads to three and before you know it you’re giggling on a bar stool with matty standing in front of you. he’s radiant in the lights, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, smile full and bright. his lips, pink and plush, are curled around his teeth. you’re well aware that you’re entranced by him, eyes loitering on his face for a little longer than acceptable. you can’t help it though, and also can’t help the way you lean forward and take his hand. 

“you’re gorgeous,” your words tumble from your lips before you can think of the repurcussions. 

he stops in his tracks, standing up a little straighter. you think you’ve fucked it royally, immediately your eyes widen and your jaw pops open and shut as you try to think of a way to remedy it all.

“me? darling, what about you? should see yourself.” there’s a hint of blush creeping up the skin of his neck. it matches the pigment of your nails and you’re reminding yourself to always pick that color to remember it by. 

you wave him off, but his hand encapsulates your wrist before you can finish the movement.

“i mean it, truly.” his lips, soft as silk, press to your heated skin. they’re warm, wet from way he kept licking over them before, and you’re warding off thoughts of the way they would feel elsewhere. you shift, thighs clenching. you hope he doesn’t notice. 

matty leans closer to you. his movements are slow, like water running over oil, and he’s perching himself up with one hand on the bar and the other on the barstool. his breath, tainted with the taste of the whiskey he was sipping, fans over your face as he exhales. 

thankful for the darkened aura of the club, you reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, eyes searching his for any semblance of dismissal. there is none. and so you rally forward, leaning up to press your lips to his own. his lips are softer than you imagined, tasting of the remnants of his drink and the coolness of the ice cubes that once floated around. he lets you take the lead, hands settling onto your waist as you go to pull him impossibly closer. your body melts into him, arms slowly drifting to loop around his neck. 

in the hustle and bustle of the club, you feel still. everything seems to cease around you. he pulls back slowly, running his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“you wanna get out of here?” 

it’s a statement more than it is a question. the words are suggestive, hanging in the air like cobwebs. you watch as his eyes widen, similar to your actions prior. was he over thinking? did he over step? his tongue pokes out from between his lips again, licking over the skin. you want to do that. 

“what? you’re not going to wine and dine me first?” you counter, but you’re already slipping off of the bar stool and linking an arm in his. 

he laughs, shaking his head, “i bought you a few drinks, didn’t i?” 

matty lets you lead him out the back door. his hand is attached to your waist, guiding you as you make a bee-line for the car parked waiting for you both. he opens the door for you before your driver could even make his way around the car. 

you slip in, matty follows, and you situate yourself on the leather seats. he’s squeezing in next to you, a hand placed gently on your exposed thigh. your skin heats up as if its aflame, each stroke of his thumb makes you have to compress the thoughts that are infiltrating your brain. you want him, badly. and you have a funny feeling that he knows it. 

you’re both stumbling up to the door of the apartment, his hand seeking purchase on your waist once more. once the door is unlocked, you offer him a soft smile, “i apologize for the clutter. s’just been awhile since i’ve been home.” 

the door is pushed open and you lead him inside, letting him enter as you shut the door behind the both of you. there’s a gasp. and you’re thinking that maybe you read it all wrong. maybe he didn’t want to come inside. maybe-

“dude, no fucking way. you’ve got the original film poster for pulp fiction? signed too? that’s so sick.” 

you let out a listless laugh, hand resting on your chest, “it was a gift. from an ex.” your face scrunches up at the last revelation, shaking your head as his eyes somberly look at you, “s’fine though. his last movie bombed in the box office, so i guess we all get our karma somehow, right?” 

he nods but immediately turns back to the poster, still in awe. 

matty had heard all about the break up, knew exactly which ex you were referencing also. an older guy, one that made everyone turn up their noses and call you some god awful things on the internet. he knew the breakup was rough, too, it had come up in conversations between he and taylor before. he didn’t want to pry, though, so he just faked enthusiasm in the poster for as long as he could. 

“you want anything? a drink? water? a snack?” you call from the kitchen. matty’s not done with his snooping yet, eyes dragging all over the large living room. there’s shoes astray, polaroid pictures littering dark forest green walls, a colorful rug, a sweatshirt haphazardly thrown on the couch, and lots of plants. it feels lived in and normal. for being one of the top actresses in the world, rolling stone said this not him, you’re normal. 

“i’ll take some water, please.” 

he hears your hum of approval and the sound of you shuffling around in the kitchen. when you reappear, he notes that the heels on your feet were swapped for a very endearing pair of slippers. they’re pink, fuzzy and the bunnies have long ears that drag on the floor when you walk. matty can’t help but smile. his cheeks hurt so badly from the action, yet he hardly notices. you’re extending the glass of water out to him, perching yourself on the bar table that separates the kitchen from the living area. 

“thank you,” he nods his head at you and takes a long sip, eyes locked on you as he does. he watches as you squirm under his unrelenting gaze and his stomach flutters. 

you show him around, pointing out all of the pictures on the wall of family and friends. and he notices how those same walls are littered with the countless awards you’ve won, yet you don’t acknowledge them. he’s been in the presence of many a large celebrity before and those are usually the first things they point out. but you’re different. a cool sip of water in the heated tinsel town he’s come to be apart of. 

“what’s this picture?” he nods his head to a polaroid dated only a year or so prior. it’s blurry, darkened but he can make out the shape of your lips in the corner and a familiar head of blonde hair.

you groan, a flush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks. “my twenty-first. went to vegas with taylor and a couple of our friends and woke up in LA. don’t think i can ever look at vodka the same way again. it was not my best moment, i’ll tell you that.”

he laughs, a true belly laugh and bends backwards as you confess.

“how did you end up in LA?” he asks, finally able to gain his composure.

“you’re asking me as if i know! taylor says i paid off a pilot in a bar or something, which sounds a little too on brand if you ask me,” you muse, “but i got to see the sunrise from behind the hollywood sign, so that was nice.”

matty revels in the way you recall the memories. your eyes are gleaming, and in the darkened light of the hallway he can tell that you’re radiant, sheer beauty putting all of the stars he’s seen to shame.

you approach the doorway to your room and there’s a bit of apprehension as you turn over your shoulder to look at the curly-haired man behind you. he nearly falls into you as you stop short, his chest bumping into your shoulder. you pause. and swallow thickly, can feel his heart rapping against his chest. the vibrations reverberate through your body. it isn’t long until his eyes wander down to your lips again. 

“can i kiss you again?” he exhales. 

you nod quickly and before you can even open your mouth to say anything, his lips seek solace on yours. you sigh out, twisting in his grasp to assume more leverage. his hands trace over your body, grasping at your hips to pull you closer. your lips move in tandem with one another, soft sighs and hums of content echoing into each other. one of your arms wraps loosely around his neck while the other reaches down to find the doorknob. he nips at your lip, and you melt in his arms with a baited whine. you feel his lips curl up into a smirk against yours when you finally reach the door knob and twist it.

the both of you nearly fall into your room, but he’s got your waist in his hands to steady you against him. its only a few paces from the doorway to the bed. skillfully, he’s backing you up. his lips move feverishly against your own, parting only as your knees buckle and you fall onto the bed with the weight of his body collapsing ontop of you. 

“hey there,” you hum, moving your lips from his to slowly kiss your way down his exposed neck. his soft sighs ricochet through the heated air and you watch as goosebumps prickle up the skin of his arms. 

“feels nice,” he murmurs, tilting his neck up. you get better leverage then, using this to your advantage as you curl your lips to suck a deep purple mark at the base of his neck. matty moans. and you swear to yourself that its the prettiest sound you’ve heard all night, maybe even your whole life. his hands travel from your waist, up towards your concealed chest. 

“can i take this off?” he’s tugging at the hem of your shirt. you nod quickly. 

matty wastes no time in ridding you of the shirt and makes quick work of the bra that’s keeping you from him. 

“fucking hell,” he all but whines, leaning down to press his lips to your heated skin. his lips do anything but ease the heat erupting underneath your skin, instead they illicit more heat in their wake. “you’re fucking gorgeous.” 

a large palm cups at the mound of one of your breasts while his mouth leaves heated kisses along the other. his tongue jets out, flicking at the tender budded skin of your nipple before he envelopes the sensitive bud into his mouth. a gasp falls from your lips. he’s toying with it between his teeth, sucking it around. your hips buck up and into him. 

he alternates between the two, loving the way you writhe and buck against him. there’s a fire burning deep within you, the totality of it all being blissfully ignored between your legs. 

“need more,” you sigh out. matty peers up at you. he’s moved on to kissing down your stomach and shuffling your pants down your legs. a wry smile tugs at his cheeks. 

“patience is a virtue.”

“do you want me to beg for it?”

the thought of you on your knees and begging for him has his cock jumping in his pants. he blinks a few times, “while the offer may be nice, the sight of you on your knees might make me cum in my pants.” 

a breathy laugh falls from your lips, reaching down to run a hand through his hair. 

“meant it when i said you were gorgeous,” your thumb traces down the center of his face, pulling at his bottom lip. his eyes are wide and doe-like. he captures your digit in his mouth, nipping at the tender pad. its enough to make you shudder. his lips are puffy and swollen, reminiscent of all of the kissing and biting and longing. a pink flush rises from his neck, similar in color to the shade of his lips. it only exacerbates your point. 

“you gonna let me have a taste?” he asks, his breath fanning out over your clothed core. 

"please,” you hum through a baited breath. 

he groans in response, tapping the side of your thigh whilst removing the soaked lace from your skin. matty spreads you open between his fingers, dipping his finger into the sticky honey pouring out from you. he pops the digit into his mouth, eyes rolling back. “taste so good. wanna taste you directly from this pretty little cunt though.” 

you barely have a second to reply in anything but a moan as he loops his arms under the bend of your knees, mouth latching onto your cunt almost immediately. he’s insatiably sucking and licking and nipping. you wail out as his teeth run over your senisitve (and up until this point ignored) clit. he flicks his tongue over the bud soothingly, lips curling around to suck on it. the fact that there’s no rhythm almost gives it a rhythm. you buck your hips up against his mouth, wanting more, craving more. he’s devouring you like a man starved and you’re happy to be his last meal. 

“feels so good,” you sigh out through a combination of a choked sob and a moan. matty smirks against you, bringing a finger up and slipping it in. he crooks it up, finding the spot inside of you almost immediately. you have half a mind to ask him where he found out about it. you had heard stories from friends of friends through the grapevine, but nothing prepared you for anything quite like this. 

“gonna let me fuck you?” he pulls back slowly, quirking an eyebrow up at you. his lips shine in your juices, pupils blown out and hair wild from the fingers you’ve been raking through it. matty’s finger relentlessly works in and out of you and he’s adding a second before you can even reply. 

“yeah. want you to fuck me,” you moan. his thumb connects to your clit and he continues to work into you, his fingers rubbing over the spongy spot over and over. your eyes roll back into your head, letting the shockwaves of pleasure radiate through your body. 

matty’s reaching for his wallet with his unoccupied hand. his incesscant rhythm has slowed down, leaving you without much relief. he leans over your sweaty writhing body upon getting his wallet, to press a kiss to your lips. its messy. and he tastes like you- heady and sweet. you buck into his fingers, slowly beginning to fuck yourself against them. his jaw goes slack and he pulls back to watch the scene below him. he’s distracted by you, entranced in the way you push and pull yourself on his fingers, thoughts clouding by the way this exact scene would play out with you on his cock (which twitches in the constraints of his pants).

you’re moaning out for him, eyes locking on his own as you feel your release begin to creep up on you. its slow and impending, all you need is a little push-

“fuck!” 

his expelative jossels you from your impending high. you blink a few times and stop the movement on his fingers, chest rising and falling. 

“w-what’s wrong?” you exhale heavily, worry crossing your face. 

you’re half expecting you to tell him that he’s got a girlfriend or he’s changed his mind or you’re not exactly what he wanted or he’s got to go. 

“i don’t have a fucking condom. could’ve swore i put one in here.” the look on his face is almost laughable. matty’s gone pale, despite the heat induced flush on his chest, and his eyes are locked on the empty pocket of his wallet. 

you let out a giggle that has his eyes snapping back to yours, “i have one. let me just..” you blush a bit as you dismount his fingers, rolling over to open the night stand next to your head. there, tucked in the corner is a box of condoms. you silently cheer and drag it towards you. you don’t remember it feeling this light when you bought it. maybe you went through more than you- 

“fuck!” the box is empty when you turn it upside down on the bed.

matty is exasperated, looks as if he’s about to cry and you’re sure you don’t look much better. 

you flop back onto the bed dejectedly covering your eyes and letting out a loud groan. “this is-”

“i know.” 

“i can’t believe.”

“i know.” 

the bed dips in next to you and he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, “we can make it work though? quite liked the way you felt on my fingers and that little scene you made fucking yourself on them? nearly came in my pants.” he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your cheeks, “so why don’t we have our fun now. and tomorrow morning, i’ll go out get us a nice new box that we can tear through?” 

“who says i’m letting you sleep over?” 

he cocks his head to the side, “i’d like to see you try and kick me out of your bed when i’m done with you.” he begins his descent down your body once more. 

“that’s a promise.” 

[anzynai]

request: ler!angel dust x reader (platonic, gender neutral or masc) where the reader is new at the hotel and angel accidentally figures out theyre ticklish and decides this is a fun new way to make friends? its been floating in my brain for AGES but im having such writers block SJDLKFJ so im handing it off to you bc i love your hazbin fics!!!

hiii so requests are closed, but i already had an idea tbh.. so ill indulge u a little drabble. but please, do not send any more requests unrelated to twst lol and um this ask was from a couple weeks ago…. eerrr yeah.

——

you stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, fiddling your fingers. what were you doing here, really? you looked at nifty, cleaning every nook and cranny of the hotel with extreme haste. your eyes moved to charlie and vaggie who seemed to be brainstorming over new trust exercises to introduce to the hotel. husk was at his bar, cleaning the glasses in a much slower pace compared to the nimble cleaning demon. alastor and angel dust were nowhere to be seen.

and so, you just.. kinda stood there. you had only been at the hotel for a day, and even before you arrived, every part of your mind was screaming at you that this was a stupid idea and that you needed to turn back now. but since you were new, you didn’t really felt like you belonged. you parted your lips, letting a small sigh out.

“what are ya looking so down in the dumps for, toots?” the angel's voice cut your thoughts as he jabber a finger to your side. you gasped, leaning away from the touch.

“oh.. um, no reason. you don’t have to worry.” you stammered out a response, but the look of doubt that crosses angel’s face tells you that he didn’t believe a word of what you just said. still, it seemed like he didn’t ponder it for long because his eyes widened, as if he had just realized something.

“hey…” he started, walking closer so that he was almost towering over you. “ya ticklish?”

oh no. no WAY.

“no! i’m not!” please don’t try, you thought, even though.. a small part of you wanted him to. but..

“sure about that?” a smirk had finally entered angel’s face as he latched his hands to your sides and it was already to resist smiling from the antipation.

“yes, very sure!” you sputtered, backing up and almost tripping. he caught you, obviously, because he already had his hands on you. however, to keep you from falling, he had to tighten his grip. by squeezing your sides.

you were mortified when a giggle slipped out before you could stop it. the way angel’s face lit up would haunt your nightmares for weeks. and then, he launched his attack.

he began squeezing at your sides, watching you squirm and buck your hips.

“hkk!” you smiled, crookedly, trying your best not to laugh, but it was already so hard.

“no need to resist, baby, i already know you’re ticklish.” when he found a particularly sensitive spot, you could already feel your defenses crumbling. when he lingered on that spot, you were positively sure you were dying.

“noho! stahahap!” you giggled at last, a snort escaping you with how much effort you had tried to not laugh.

“got ya~!” angel teased, slurring his words and he continued to tickle you. you were vaguely aware of how silent the room had gone, the others turning to watch you and you felt your face heating up with embarrassment.

“ahahangehehel!” you giggled, pushing at his hands.

“that’s my name!” angel smiled and across the room, charlie gasped.

“tickling!” she shouted, standing up with stars in her eyes. “that’ll be our next trust exercise!”

angel stopped tickling you at that, and you sighed in relief and caught your breath. you rubbed against the spots he tickled when the tingling sensation still lingered.

“tickling?” angel asked, a brow raised.

“yes! what else is safe and comforting and still allows for bonds to grow like tickling?” charlie exclaims, enthusiastic as she began jotting down ideas on lying pieces of paper. beside her, vaggie looked nervous.

so did angel, actually, you realized when you glanced at him. a small blush was on his face but you only realized because you were looking closely. with an idea in your head, you smiled sweetly.

“i think it’s a great idea! should angel go first?”

[abbonation]

Swimming Through Starlight

(18+ MINORS LEAVE THE PREMISES)

The hunt for a bounty presents you and your Mando with an impromptu vacation opportunity.

Tags/Warnings: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader, Language, Smut, No use of Y/N, PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink if you squint, teensie bit of assplay 🤭,

You had been doing.. whatever this was for nearly a full cycle now. Traveling with Din and his kid, Grogu, fixing shit on the Crest- but somewhere along the way you had accidentally found an actual home with them and now… Well now they were stuck with you, you guessed. 

Niamos was the current destination, a planet covered with glittery beaches warmed by its star and a reputation for being a cozy hideout for felons and the like.

“I’m not going to lay on the beach in just my helmet.” You can tell he must be straight faced under that visor by the tone of his voice.

“What would it take to convince you?” You smirk and rub your hand up his calf under the blanket in his bunk. 

Mando sits up and looks at where your hand is moving, “Kriff- fucking… nothing, don’t use your magic on me,” He scoots down the cot to start preparing for landing. Loading blasters, rations and med-kits into the bag he so lovingly has you carry while he lugs whatever scumbag he’s picking up here. You’re sure to stuff the one and only thing you own that could pass off as swimwear into the bag too- just in case.

-

“Mando look! Ice pops!” You beckon towards him- grab Grogu from his sling on Din’s hip and practically skip towards the stand. 

He scolds out your name, “We’ve barely been on the ground for ten minutes,”

“But- they have Moonberry flavor,” you put on your best pout up to him and watch as he analyzes your face from behind the visor.

The baby gurgles up at the both of you, and Din sets a couple credits down on the counter. The stall attendant pulls your frozen treat out of the case and hands it to you, “One Ice pop for the beautiful lady and.. the baby...” He ends his statement as if it was a question and you giggle, turning back to Din. 

You bite off a tiny piece for Grogu and put the rest in your mouth- holding it with your lips as you feed the broken piece to him. Finally you get your turn to enjoy your treat when the baby realizes he can hold it himself, and you notice Din staring down at you as you walk side by side through the bustling little city. 

“What?” You ask, knowing exactly what.

“Nothing.” He turns back to the road ahead.

—

“So this is the guy, huh?” You stand from the sandy ground, where you’d been sitting with Grogu, letting him run through the puddles the sandbar left behind when the tide went out. 

It had only been a few hours since you parted ways with Din to go catch his bounty, and while he was gone you started brainstorming the perfect way to get him to enjoy this beachy getaway while he could. 

“Yup,” Mando jerked the male human's shoulder, “He thought he’d be able to hire some of his buddies to hide him.” 

“Ah,” you look at the bounty’s face, scrunched in pain from Din’s hold on him, “That never works, see, he’s got this tracker on his helmet-“ 

“Alright, enough,” Mando interrupts you, “It’s time to go.”

You pick Grogu up from where he was playing with a little crustacean and walk towards the Crest with Din

Mando wrangles his bounty into carbonite while you tuck your green toddler into his floating crib and watch him drift off, sending soothing emotions to his brain, before meeting Din back by the door of the Crest. 

“So,” you start, “Do you think we could stay for a while?” 

“Where, here?”

“Well, maybe not here in town, I’d just like to enjoy the beach a while longer,” 

“I don’t know, cyar’ika,” Din returns, shrugging.

“I saw a more secluded part of the beach while we were waiting for you, you’d just have to move the Crest out of town. Maybe you could rest for a while while we have dinner,” 

He looks down at you once again and you try to pick at his brain, finding nothing. 

“Please.” You once again pout up at him.

“Fine, just for a little bit, though.” 

-

A distance down the beach, away from the small city and in the cover of the dunes and vegetation Niamos provided, you stood in the ‘fresher, ditching your normal shirt, chest wrap and cargo pants for the one and only pretty piece of underwear you owned. A strappy purple thing that hugged your breasts together; no matter if you had to wear a pair of your regular undies, this would surely get the job done.

“Hey, Din,” you step down the ramp to join your Mando down on the sand that was cooling in the late afternoon sun. 

Din turns towards you from where he stands and you can visibly see the way his helmet drops to stare at your body. He’d never been the boldest with his public affection, but while in private he was nearly insatiable with his hunger for you.

“Din?” 

He jerks his helmet back up to your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“What?” The vocoder sounds low and gravelly as he chokes out the single word.

You giggle and walk towards him, “Do you want to swim with me?”

“Uhh,” he gulps, “The uhm- my helmet,”

You feign annoyance at him, “Oh fine, you can watch me play then.”

You tap his chest plate on your way past down into the waves, making sure to swing your hips as seductively as possible. 

You walk into the gently lapping waves up to your calves and toe around in the wet sand, then turn back to where Din sits on the beach, just watching you.

“It’s warm, Din. I wish you could feel.” 

You splash around for a bit, now wishing Grogu wasn’t asleep on the Crest so he could play too. 

You decide if he’s gonna stay asleep for a while, and Din isn’t gonna come in the water, you should have some fun of your own. You face the sunset, the water up to your hips; and almost against your own volition your hands reach to the back of your neck and untie the knot holding your top up. You lift the straps over your head and drop them down, freeing your nipples to the crispy air. 

“Hey-“ Din shouts your name from the beach, trying to get your attention.

You don’t turn around, instead running your fingertips over your skin and through your hair, reveling in the tingles you give yourself.

You hear splashing behind you suddenly and turn to face him, Din stops mid journey out to you in the water- still wearing all his armor. 

“Hey what’re you-“ He cuts himself off with a huff of breath audible through the vocoder.

You walk toward each other, Din molds his hands behind your neck and brings your forehead to where his would be behind his visor in a Keldabe kiss. 

“You are so fucking pretty.”

You close your eyes and shiver at the sheer eroticism of the moment. You reach up and move his hands down to your breasts, asking him to touch you without words. 

His eyes stay on your face as he pinches and pulls at your nipples with his leather covered fingers, you moan at his touch, growing wetter with each second you spend so exposed for him. 

You move your fingers up to run through the loose curls at the bottom of his helmet and he arches his shoulders into your touch, huffing a breath, “I want you.” He whispers.

Running your hands down his chest you respond, “Then come get me.” 

You jerk out of his touch and start for the beach, struggling to push your legs through the water.

He turns instantly and shoots his arm out towards you, at the narrow miss you shriek and push harder, now only a few feet from land. You hold your tits and make for the small patch of trees at the top of the sandy hill the Crest is parked on. When the sounds from behind you turn from sloshing to heavy footfalls you turn, Mando is just seconds behind you and you’re sure to be caught any moment.

In an instant his hand is on your shoulder, and you trip, landing softly on the mossy sand below. He grabs your hands and pins you as you wiggle beneath him, you’re no match for his muscles though, he mounts you and places his weight down where he sits on his knees above your thighs.

“No getting away from me now, C’yare.” His modulator puffs next to your ear. You whine out when he grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass. “Do you want this? . . .  Do you want me?” He continues rubbing against you through his flight suit.

“Mando, please,“

“Finish your thought, Mesh’la,”

You groan into his palm when he turns your head and moves his helmet right down beside your face. “Say it.”

“I- I want you, Din. . . so badly-”

He drawls put a beautiful sound from the back of his throat and scoots down your thighs, pulling your wet underwear with him, “Look at this perfect ass sweet girl,” 

He squeezes your cheeks and spreads them apart, running his first two gloves fingers between your lips and over your asshole. 

You squeal at his boldness, deciding you like it.

You can’t see him, but you feel him lay down behind you, “Don’t turn around-“ and then the unlocking of his helmet. 

He spreads your cheeks again and this time he surprises you when he licks his way through your pussy, you moan for him and he groans in return. The tip of his tongue flicks over your clit and his beautiful angular nose rubs over your entrance, you can’t help but grind back on his face as your hands try to find purchase in the cool ground. 

He moves up further now, licking over your rear entrance and moving his palms over your thighs and sides of your torso, it feels so fucking good to have him like this, desperate to hear you feel pleasure. 

“You want my cock, sweet girl?” He finally relents as you get closer to the edge, sitting back up on his knees. 

“Fuck yes, Din, put it inside me please,”

He moans at your words and licks a line up your spine, letting the breeze give you goosebumps as he frees his cock and notches the tip inside your dripping cunt. 

“Oh baby,” he starts, “Fuck- look at this beautiful pussy,” You back up onto him to finish the job. 

“Ngh- fuck Din, I’m so full-”

He can’t help but start at a fast pace, notching his hands above your hips for leverage. 

“You wore this skimpy little thing for me, showed off your gorgeous tits,” he keeps his pace, “Oh fuck- C’yare.”

You move your hands under your tits to once again massage your nipples and rub your clit down onto the moss underneath you- clenching your pussy around Mando’s cock at the sensation.

He’s pistoning into your cunt so fast, hitting your front wall so perfectly- taking you both to the edge so quickly. 

Your brain conjures the image of how much you wish his skin was rubbing on yours like in the darkness of hyperspace, how much you wish you could see his face. 

“Ohhh fuck, sweet girl- what are you doing to me, what is that?” 

Without noticing, you’d begun using the force to touch him where you’d been imaging- running your fingers over his scalp, down his chest and over his thighs. 

“I’m- not gonna last,” he chokes out. You feel a vibration settle on the hood of your clit and immediately grind back and forth over the stimulants to your body. You catapult over the edge when Din whimpers, “Oh, maker- please-”

Euphoric bliss washes over your brain when orgasm takes you, and Din follows right behind, staying inside to push his spend deeper as you flutter around him. He collapses onto your back and moves his hands up to support himself over you, brushing your hair behind your ears. 

You keep your eyes closed, just in case, and you’re glad you did when he kisses the shell of your ear and groans out, “Thank you, Mesh’la.” 

He leaves you to lay while he replaces his helmet and spreads your legs to clean you with your underwear- then tucks them safely into a pocket on his belt.