#and nothing can reach me here everything feels two inches to the left im going to make soup. and then i dont know

[phagodyke]

took me until half 8 to manage to leave the house to get groceries. literally done nothing else all fucking day except try to motivate myself to do this. nothing wrong w me

[sturniolo04]

i know it's not really on topic to everything you're currently writing but would you consider writing any matt tattoo fics because i'm obsessed and you're a really good writer.. thank you so much

A/n:  Aww thank you! I love you more! I put a little spin on it and added some spicy parts in it as well! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!! I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

dividers: @issysh3ll

To say you were obsessed with your boyfriend's tattoo sleeve was an understatement. Anytime he wore and short sleeve or even muscle shirt for that matter you were just obsessed with the sight. You loved how the ink delicately tracing the very definition of his arm and you cant get enough of the sight and Matt knew that.

"we need to go grocery shopping baby we are literally almost out of everything including dish soap"

matt chuckles out as he is doing the dirty dishes from your guys lunch. You sat across from him at the island counter not really paying attention to anything he was saying in that moment because well he decided to wear that pink top you already loved on him but also allowed the tattoos you loved oh so much to be on full display to you in the moment.

"baby"

matt questions tryin to grab you nonexsistent attention.

"hm"

you hum out softly trying to remain composed.

"are you here with me"

matt chuckles out making his over over to you. he knew what you were fixated on.

"ye-yeah im here "

you stutter out as matt made his way over you watching your eyes trail down the ink on his arm.

"you sure it looked like something caught your attention you think"

matt questions you already knowing the answer but wanted to see if you were going to admit to his face.

"no nothing caught my attention"

you stutter out growing nervous that he might have caught your red handed staring. Matt trails his hand to wrap softly around you neck. You out of surprise quickly reach your dainty hands up to grasp onto his fore arm in the process. You secretly were loving this and matt knew that.

"you sure about that baby girl"

matt states leaning his face to your so your guys' lips were inches apart at this point. you let out a soft gasp from the sexual tension that was thicken by the minute around you two

"it doesnt sound convincing to me i think you are lying to me"

matt quips. Matt softly lets his lips brush over yours in the process feeling your shaky breath.

"you-your tattoos"

you gasp out.

"what about them"

matt replies urging you to continue your thought process on this.

"im obessed with them matt"

you breathe out tryin to keep the eye contact with him and not let your eyes roll back.

"hm are you now"

matt states quirking a cocky eyebrow up. Matt knew he only put you in this position to get you to admit it and he knew that it was going to leave you upset at the end knowing he let all the sexual tension build on itself.

"y-yes matt so obessed"

you gasp out. Matt smirks as he removes his hand from around you neck.

"see was that so hard to admit"

matt chuckles out placing a quick peck to your supple raw lips and going back to doing the dishes left in the sink.

"wh-what are you fucking kidding me"

you gasp out pressing you thighs together.

"what"

matt replies trying to act oblivious to the tension he created.

"matt you-youre not"

you traill off not knowing what in the world just happend.

"im not what"

matt replies chuckling a little.

"i hate you so much"

you huff out folding your arms on the countertop placing her head to rest on top of them in the process completely frustrated as matt continues to laugh at h9ow flustered you are.

Taglist🗂️

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @sturniolosymphony @zenithsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #5

A/N: These are my OCs. Ira is a bounty hunter. Leo is a cowboy, and also a mage.

xxx healing salve

"Get down!" Leo puts his arm over Ira, shoving him to the ground and then diving to the dirt himself, just as the first shot rings out.

"Damn!" Ira hisses, reaching for his gun.

Leo would be doing the same, except that his body feels cold and strange, arms leaden, fingers shaking and unsure. His stomach sinks.

"See that big boulder just up the ridge?" Ira says, voice low. "That'll give us better cover. Be ready to move."

Leo doesn't respond. Something is wrong. He's starting to feel it.

"You listening to me, kid?" There's an edge to Ira's voice now, frustration lacing his words. "Dammit, I said--" He turns, and his eyes widen, face going pale as another shot cracks through the air. "Shit."

"I..." It's hard to speak, or think even. "I think...Think 've been..."

"Yeah," Ira says. "You hush now, save your energy. Just stay put, I'm gonna find this bastard and take 'im down. Won't take more'n a second. Hang in there. And stay down."

Leo doesn't want him to leave. Doesn't want to be left here all alone, bleeding all over the long, dried pine needles that cover the forest floor. But the pain is building in intensity, and it steals the breath from his lungs, and with it his voice. There's nothing he can do but watch as the bounty hunter disappears and leaves him.

The initial shock begins to wear off, and Leo knows he can't just lie here. He has to work up the courage to try and sit up. For someone who regularly draws his own blood for ritual spells, he's rather pain averse, and this pain is like nothing he's ever felt—deep and gnawing and relentless. It's everything he has not to cry out when he finally levers himself into a sitting position. He moves slowly, but the hole in his sides protests anyway, loudly. The bullet entered the meat above his left hip. He can't tell if it's still in there or not. He hopes not, but bullets—the kind that aren't enchanted, anyway—are unpredictable.

He'd just as soon not be hit by another one.

Which means it's not in his best interest to try and stand. His satchel is still with the horses, and he knows he's not going to be able to crawl all the way back to them. He'll have to make due with what he has. The small bag he keeps with him has clean strips of linen, and he's sure he saw yarrow growing somewhere nearby. He looks around, scanning the foliage for the familiar yellow-orange flowers.

There. A few yards away, near the treeline. He just has to get there...It's not far. He can do this. He claps a hand to his side, tight as he can stand to, and starts to crawl. A volley of shots breaks out, and he stops moving. After a moment, he realizes he can hear two distinct weapons – the rifle that had shot him, and Ira's pistols. Which means the shooter's attention is elsewhere. His vision goes dark at the edges when he starts moving again, the world tilting beneath him, but he forces himself to keep going. His breath comes in short bursts as inches his way forward.

Nearly there.

Just a little further...

His heart is hammering by the time he gets there, pounding as if he's run a mile, not crawled fifteen feet. He grabs a handful of leaves from the yarrow plants, shoving them in his mouth and chewing before he's even caught his breath. He's going to have to turn onto his back in order to get at the wound. It's gonna hurt, and he knows it.

"To hell with it," he finally murmurs around the mouthful of leaves, and he pushes himself up and to the right, landing on his back with a groan. He just lays there a second, waiting for the agony to pass and his vision to return.

There hasn't been any gunfire in a long time. The fight seems to be over which means someone has won. And someone has lost.

He hopes Ira is okay.

His fingers tremble as he tugs his shirt out of his pants and lifts it away from the bleeding, ragged hole. He's in a lot of pain already, but this next part...But it will help. He has to do it. He reaches up and takes the glob of crushed plant matter out of his mouth. And, before he can talk himself out of it, he presses it into the wound.

He barely has time to scream before he loses consciousness.

xxx

[cynettic]

Kissing Genshin Characters before you Die

Summary - Kissing the Genshin Characters one last time before you enter the battlefield.

Pairings - Reader x Albedo / Barbara / Bennett / Beidou / Chongyun / Diluc / Eula / Kazuha / Kaeya / Ayaka / Ningguang / Childe / Venti / Xiao / Zhongli

Warnings - Angst, death mentions

Tips - I wrote this listening to ‘Lovely’ and ‘Listen before I go,’ so it might make it better if you listen to both those songs while reading this :’) Both are by Billie Eilish btw, both reverb and slowed down songs for the extra angst

A/N - Im so tired, so so tired of human interaction and having no motivation to talk to people. Its like my social battery simply does not recharge, and I'm stuck writing about interactions I wish I could have, even if it's angst. Burying myself in the delusion that being in a different reality would change everything, burying myself in little imaginations and dreams of a love that doesn't exist.

Also yes, if you did notice the song lyrics playing at first are from "If the World was Ending," used to listen to that song so much. Thought it would fit this :)

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

It was absolute chaos, flames crawling up the wooden buildings and spreading smoke through the nation of Teyvat. Everything burned with the scorching heat, children crying, men and woman trying to run from the unescapable flames. Terror etched into citizens faces when encountering the monsters who appeared unaffected by the destruction.

Hilichurls and ruin guards smashing past people, till there was nowhere to run. And it was the mere decision of whether being beaten to death or burnt crisp was a better way to leave this world.

“You’d come over and you’d stay the night.”

But there you were, weapon in hand as you stood up against the blaze. Strong against the unblinking inferno in front of you, unwavering as you stood in front of the monsters that eagerly rushed towards you. Cut and obliterated in seconds, your eyes held nothing but a sickening disgust.

You slowly turned back to your s/o, relief quenching your heart when they were safe in the little location you’d found for them. They were injured, they wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines otherwise. And holding your weapon up again, you claimed the role of protector against the hoard of monsters.

“Would you love me for the hell of it?”

Their voice broke past your focus, a ragged sound that was suffering. It only took you a few strides till you reached them, crouching down to face them fully. Your faces were mere inches away, and you could see the frustration on their face. A deeply rooted feeling that fueled the action as they curled their hand around your head. Pressing your lips against theirs, one last kiss before you assumed the role of predator against the monsters.

“All our fears would be irrelevant.”

Both hands coming to hold their face, you pressed forwards into their kiss. Grasp tight against them, clinging onto them as if they were your lifeline.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

You kissed them as if the world wasn't a aflame, like it was just you both sitting there. Hands grasping for their skin, for their lips, for them. Because without them you couldn't live in this smoldering world, a bright light that cocooned you in its comforting warmth. Nothing like the blazing flames that surrounded the two of you.

You kissed them like they were the only thing that mattered.

“The sky’d be falling and I’d hold you tight.”

But you felt the shake in their hands as they pressed their hand against your back, scared to let you go, scared to lose you. Scared to let this kiss end and have to face the scorching reality.

“And there wouldn't be a reason why.”

You pressed one last kiss to their forehead, basking in their embrace once more between you broke away. The look on your face was confident as you faced them one last time, softened by their teary eyes. Whispering soft words to them, you could only watch as they broke down, a tight feeling in your chest urging you to do the same.

But no, you had to be strong. For them, for yourself, for all of Teyvat. You slowly turned to the flames and monsters, holding up your weapon, screaming one last battle cry as you let your weapon lead your actions. As you let death become your only objective in a flurry to protect your partner.

“We would even have to say goodbye.”

Sobs wretched out of their throat as they watched you crumble, watched you fall the ground and collapse. Till the movement of your chest came to an abrupt stop, and monsters pooled at your sides.

They were forced to watch, unable to move.

“If the world was ending you’d come over right?”

Their cries turned to whimpers, until they couldn't hear the noises that spilled form their lips. Until they didn't care. What they cared about was thrown on their battlefield, beaten and ragged, torn and broken.

Dead.

“You’d come over… right?”

_-_-_-_-_

Albedo

He takes his time, hand on the back of your neck pushing you so hard against him till he’s woozy. Memorizing the feel of your plush lips against his, molding them into memory with every kiss. He’ll break away from your lips, pressing soft pecks up your face, along your nose, to your forehead. Infatuated with the way your hands gently hold his face, careful, delicate. He doesnt want to let you go, and with one final peck right between your eyes, he’ll close his eyes, whispering a goodbye as you leave. He doesnt open them when you die, he doesnt open them when the monsters reach him. No, he dies in your embrace, even if its not real.

Barbara

Desperate, oh so desperate. She doesnt know what to do with you when you press your hands to her face, tearful. You’ll have to be the one to initiate the kiss, muffling her cries with a short lived sweetness between the two of you. She’ll have her hands all over you, unsure of how to hold you, how to press you against her. She wants to stay like this forever, and even if her kisses are sloppy and messy, she’s crying too much to notice. She won’t break away, you’ll have to tug your way out of her grip and press one last kiss to her forehead. Her voice is angelic, even when she cries. You remind yourself that this is what you’re protecting as you enter the battlefield, giving it your all.

Beidou

Oh she knows, knows how this will play out. The kisses shared between the two of you are strong and compassionate, its more intense than any other kiss you’ve both shared before. Because she knows. She knows what’ll become of you and her, that this is the last kiss she’ll share with you, that there's nothing she can do about it. She lets herself indulge in you, her strong hold on you never letting go until you vocally ask her to let you go. You make her promises she knows you can't keep, but simply smiles, telling you to come back to her.

Bennett

Awkward, his hands will grab your shoulders when you approach him, pressing for a kiss immediately. He misses his mark, accidentally pressing his lips to the edge of your lips, noses bumping against each other as he tries to shift his face. You chuckle, holding his face as you adjust the angle, till you can fully reach his lips and press him against you. Like Barbara, he’ll cry, letting himself melt into you. He doesnt resist when you back away, whispering to him. Just sitting there he’ll cry, sob through it all, vision blurry with tears. But its better that way, he can picture you better when everything is fuzzy.

Chongyun

Everything was smoldering hot, too much for Chongyun who has so much yang energy trapped in him. He’s going through one of his rushes when you get to him, eager to tuck you into his arms. His kisses are sporadic, like he’s trying to kiss you but he cant. Like no matter how much his lips meet yours, it isnt enough. He wants more, he wants the promise of your forever embrace ingrained in his head. And when you break away, he’s left empty, the kisses he’d given you the only warmth on his lips. Suddenly everything was cold, so cold, and he only wished for you.

Diluc

Too rough, mashing your lips against his until you couldn't breath. Dizzy with the lack of oxygen, he didn't stop. You were ‘his,' right here right now, no one could take you away from him. You belonged alongside him, crouched in front of him, pressed into his arms where he could keep you safe. He wouldn't let you go, strong arms pulling you to his chest so firmly that you couldn't escape. He wanted to be selfish, he let himself indulge in the promise to himself that you weren't going anywhere. You’ll have to physically break out yourself, pressing back his hands as he tries to make a grab for you, tears brimming.

Eula

You were her everything, and she’ll tell you it through her kisses. She’ll run her hands along the curve of your back, holding you tenderly against her. She doesn't wish for vengeance for all the soft kisses you’ve stolen from her good days long ago, no, she’s willing to forgive you for everything as long as you’ll ‘stay.’ She promises that in all honesty, she loves everything about you, even if she denies it sometimes. And when you leave, she tells you to come back. That its the one and only thing she’ll hold against you if you don't.

Kazuha

Soft, so incredibly sensual with every touch. Kazuha was always filled with words, filled with lovely compositions made for you and only you. But now, he couldn't think of anything, no haiku he’d written in the past that compared to what he felt right now. Metaphors and hidden meanings couldn't compare to the raw pulsing throb he felt in his chest. “I love you,” he whispered, plain and simple. It held so much affection, he was afraid even those words weren't enough to express what he felt, but he settled with it either way. “I love you,” he repeated, brushing your lips against his before he said it again. “I love you.” He said it again, even as you left, entering the battlefield. He didn't stop saying it, not when he saw the monsters take you, not when they approached him with the promise of death. “I love you.”

Kaeya

He doesnt kiss you, because kisses to Kaeya are a sort of affection that brings the sense of normalcy. He likes the way your lips feel against his, but holding you against him is more special. He doesnt depend on kisses to express what he feels, instead pushing your head to his chest, sighing when your own arms come to wrap around him. No kisses, no touches, just you and him. Offering each other your last shreds of hope, because in the end, you only need each other.

Ayaka

“Look at me.” Her hand cups your cheeks just as you do to her. Now you both simply stare into each others eyes, love and adoration filling hers. She loves you, oh she loves you so much. But she understands duty better than anyone, the urge to protect you almost consuming her. When she kisses you, its soft, butterfly kisses. She doesn't rely on the contact to keep her grounded, no holding your face is a gift enough for her. To stare at you, even for one last time, is all she needs. You’ve given her so much, she would follow you to the ends of the world if you asked her to, and that's why it hurts her so much to watch you fall. She closes her eyes, noticing that she’d follow soon after and perhaps see you in the afterlife. No, she would, that's a promise she makes to herself.

Ningguang

Ningguang has delt with loss before, the concept isnt foreign to her. But you… you’re more than the jade chamber, more than any possession she has. You’re precious, like she sold a piece of her heart to you that she could never gain back. You took it from her, and you plan to take it with you to the battlefield. All she can do is press her lips against yours. Kiss you and the world beside you both becomes meaningless, until air becomes a chore instead of a necessity. Because without air she'd kiss you forever.

Childe

Details, in the case that Childe himself cant fight alongside you, he’ll hold you and repeat the details in his head. The way his hand feels on your hair, how soft or rough your lips are against his. How you fit against him, how badass you look out in the battlefield. He won’t stop you from leaving him, because he knows that if this case was reversed, he’d want you to let him go too. So he presses intimate kisses, slow ones that dont consist of a fight for dominance like they usually do. No, he wants to tell you how much he loves you, one last time.

Venti

He doesnt know what to do, pressed against you firmly. He presses soft kisses, but theres no emotion, he doesn't know how to express himself here. He’s lost a lot, lost so much in his existence, but nothing prepared him for this. Only after a kisses will he ask to cry, and when you tell him yes he’ll press his head against your shoulder. He’ll sob, hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as he does so. And then he kisses you while tears stream down his face, mashes your lips against his until his face grows numb. And he’ll continue to feel numb when you leave, when you die, when he dies.

Xiao

He doesn't know what to do, Xiao has never felt so utterly useless when you crouch to him. Form battered and bruised, when you embrace him he feels whole again. You’re his world, he doesn't care about the blazing inferno just beside you, the monsters that threaten all of Teyvat. You are his everything, what he strives to protect and keep safe. Kisses with him are breathless, both of you passionately pulling each other closer. He cant get enough of you, he wants all of you, every single piece. Molded into his embrace until you cant get out. When you break away, he tries to pull you to him, but he finds himself only able to move in the slightest. But Xiao is a protector, he is ‘your’ protector. He follows you as you head to the battlefield, dragging his limp body in a crawl to get closer. He doesn't stop when he sees the monsters overtake you, no, he continues. Just until he reaches your body, grabbing you and holding your corpse into his chest. He numbs out the monsters that attack him, knowing sullenly that he's going to die. But death doesn't seem so bad, not beside you.

Zhongli

As someone who always has control over the situation, Zhongli will be able to adapt quickly. But he doesnt want you to suffer, admiring you for being so strong when everything presses against you. He wishes to relieve the weight if only a little bit with a few kisses. Sensual and intimate, he wants to support you, and if he cant do it on the battlefield he’ll do it right here. Hold you close and promise you that he’ll always be there for you. Only after you die does he allow himself to cry, not wanting to have burdened you with his tears.

[enchantestuff]

baku - pierre gasly

back to some good ol’ smut, I didn't want to be rude so here is the reader and pierre celebrating his podium in Baku the old fashioned way (yes I know I'm late but I'm still not over that podium) also I don't know what to write next to any ideas or requests are greatly appreciated x

NOT MY GIF

warnings: smut, once again semi-public, pierre gasly, language, enjoy <333

1.5k words

Baku was a great race. It was intense for everyone on the field, but it was particularly intense for Pierre Gasly who managed to scrape a podium for himself and his team.

You laughed as he crossed the line granting him P3. You high fived everyone in the garage as you bounced up and down with glee. Pierre had invited you to watch him race for the first time and you felt incredibly privileged to be sharing his first podium of the season with him.

You grinned with glee as he made his way onto the podium. The atmosphere around you was incredible as it seemed all three teams celebrated together, hugs were passed around from the different engineers and small jokes were exchanged.

It was only hours later, after several interviews and many people begging to speak with him, that you finally got to congratulate Pierre yourself. He walked into his driver's room with the same grin from earlier on still planted on his face. Once you caught sight of him you ran into his arms, Pierre laughed as he easily lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Well done Pierre! I’m so proud of you baby” you gushed in his ear as you tightly hugged him.

Pierre chuckled as he placed his trophy down on the table and hugged you back with just as much force. “Thank you, mon amour. I think you might be my lucky charm.” He squeezed your thighs as he spoke and you pulled your face away from his chest in order to look into his eyes. Pierre pulled his lips between his teeth as he watched your eyes dancing around his face.

You studied him in silence, noting the blush creeping up his cheeks and the small beads of sweat running down his forehead. You ran your hands over his shoulders, feeling the smooth material of his fireproof undershirt under your fingers.

Pierre didn't want to break the silence, you always had a peaceful look planted on your face whenever you studied him and he had always adored it, but his body was currently full of adrenaline and there was nothing he wanted more than to take you on the couch. The possibility of anyone entering at any time thrilled him, so he kissed you.

He pressed you up against the wall and kissed you. He rolled his hips into yours as slipped his tongue in your mouth. You could feel your heart beating in your chest as you kissed Pierre, you lost yourself in the moment, something that regularly happened whenever he kissed you. You ran your fingers through his hair, playing no mind to the sweat that coated it, you did however pay attention to the grunt that left his lips as you pulled on his wet locks.

Pierre pulled away and moved to suck the sensitive skin just under your ear. “I want to mark you all over” he whispered in your ear before moving his head to replicate the mark under your other ear. You felt your underwear dampen at his words as your eyes fluttered open to watch him. They suddenly widened as you realised where you were and what the two of you were doing. You gently pushed him off of you and planted your feet firmly on the ground.

“What's wrong?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips, a concerned look suddenly crossing his features. If you werent so flustered you probably would have laughed at the sight of him, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted with his hard on showing through his drivers suit. “Did I do something wrong, ma cherie” he spoke again pulling you away from your thoughts.

“No” you denied as you shook your head, “we can't do this here” you explained, moving your arms around you, gesturing to the room you were currently in, the room that anybody could walk into.

“Sure we can” he teased as he kissed down your neck, “you just have to be really quiet, ma jolie” he smirked as you whimpered, he placed his hand down your underwear, gently stimulating your clit as he continued to whisper in your ear.

“Tell me you dont want this” he added, you let out a quiet whimper as he inserted a finger into you, “hmmm, mon amour? Tell me to stop and i’ll stop”

“F-fuck Pierre” you choked out as you held onto his bicep, digging your nails into his arm, hard enough to draw blood but Pierre didn’t seem to mind as he continued to pleasure you.

“What was that, ma cherie? I didn’t quite hear you” he teased and added another finger. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked as he halted his movement. You quickly shook your head, not willing to sacrifice the pleasure he was providing you with. “Im waiting” he continued and began to move his fingers away but you quickly grabbed his wrist.

“No” you pleaded, your eyes closed in frustration.

Pierre grinned at the desperate look on your face, he slowly brought his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as he whispered in your ear once more. “No to what?” he questioned

“No, don't stop”

That was all Pierre needed to get going again, he quickly continued the movement of his fingers as his thumb stimulated your clit once again. “Are you going to let go for me?” he pondered, and judging by your face, yes, yes you were. “Go ahead” he happily sighed as his forehead fell against yours.

All you could focus on was the pleasure that you felt and the hot breath that fanned over your neck, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin and you involuntarily shivered. “That's it, mon cheri” he uttered as you clenched around his fingers, “such a good girl”

All of a sudden, all you could feel was your sweet release and you gripped Pierres arms to stabilize yourself. When you were finally aware of your surroundings you opened your eyes, only to see Pierre remove his fingers from you and place them into his mouth. The sight made your knees weak.

Pierre gently pecked your lips as he hoisted you up once more and moved you to the couch. He was careful as he knew you were still sensitive, he was sure you wouldn't last long, but honestly, neither would he.

He moved your dress up your waist as you pulled his trousers down. “Still eager?” he grinned, widening his smile as he saw the blush creep up your cheeks. He finally freed his member and almost hissed at the sight of his red tip. He looked down at you with concerned eyes, “you still want to do this?” he asked and your heart fluttered, he was always tending to your needs before his own, something that you loved him deeply for.

“Yes”

Pierre nodded and grabbed hold of your waist before gently easing himself into you. An unholy moan left his lips as he bottomed out inside of you. He gave you a minute to adjust before he started moving. You almost immediately felt the pleasure begin to build in your stomach. “F-fuck, mon amour” Pierre grunted in your ear as he continued his movements, quickly sliding in and out of you and reaching all your sweet spots in the process.

A quick, brisk knock on the door caused you to hold in the moan you were about to let out and Pierre to halt his movements. The sound of the doorknob moving caused your heart to hammer in your chest. “Pierre?” Pierres PR manager called as she opened the door a fraction of an inch.

“NO! No, don't come in!” Pierre almost shouted as he brought his hand to your mouth, muffling any sounds that you might accidentally make.

“Everything ok?” the woman asked as she quickly shut the door in front of her.

“Y-yeah, sorry i'm just...naked”

Your eyes widened at Pierre's words and he nervously shrugged at you. When his PR manager didn't answer he felt the need to justify himself. “I’m just getting dressed, i'll be right out,” he clarified.

“Take your time, the team just wants to take a picture together.” she explained.

Pierre waited until he could hear her footsteps move in the opposite direction to begin his movements again. He kept his hand on your mouth, he knew people were nearby and he didn't want to risk anyone hearing the beautiful noises that you made, they were for his ears and his ears only.

Your eyes rolled back and he hit your sweet spot, muffled moans filling the room as he continued to hit it until you felt sweet release once again. The look on your face and the clenching of your walls quickly encouraged Pierres own release and he struggled to hold himself on top of you, bearing his weight on his forearms as he sighed in pleasure.

“That was-that was great” he mumbled, still in a haze of bliss. You ran your fingernails up and down his neck.

“Pierre” you heard on the other side of the door, “Are you okay in there”

“Shit” he mumbled under his breath as he eased himself out of you, throwing you a sympathetic glance as you winced. “Sorry, I was-erm meditating” he choked out and you muffled your own laugher with your hand, looking at him with a goofy smile on your face as he quickly got changed into his regular clothes.

[voiceless-terror]

I am so completely enamored with Danny as jons ex and I would be forever in your debt if you finished that

i wasn't expecting people to like this idea so much, its definitely one of my weirder ones xD since im not sure when i'll get around to actually finishing it (if ever) you can have a very rough chunk of it instead. you'll have to forgive any mistakes, im not up to editing it.

In a surprising show of athleticism, Jon ducks under Sasha’s chair before the specter of his past manages to see him.

Sasha swears at the action, backing up in her chair and peering down at Jon in bafflement. “What on Earth are you doing, Jon?”

Instead of answering her question, he backs up even further, tucking his feet out of sight. He thinks Sasha’s umbrella must be under here, and judging from the sharp point currently jabbing at his thigh, he probably broke it. “Is he still there?” he hisses, tilting his head to avoid bashing it into the desk.

“Who?”

“That- that man!”

A pause. “Tall, dark and handsome?”

Jon’s turn to pause. “I suppose you might call him that,” he replies stiffly. And it’s true. The man, from Jon’s brief, panicked glimpses, is at least six foot, with thick, dark hair and a bright grin.

And he looks exactly like Jon’s ex, Danny Stoker.

He’d done an almost comical double-take after a cursory glance; at first he’d thought Danny was the new hire, but this man was more angular, like a sharper, leaner version of his ex. So no, it couldn’t be him.

That didn’t stop him from diving under the nearest object, ergo Sasha’s desk. Not the wisest of decisions, considering his throbbing side, but he’s never been known for grace under pressure.

He’s not exactly sure why this fight or flight mode’s been activated- he and Danny had parted on fairly good terms, each recognizing that although they cared about the other, they simply weren’t compatible in the long term. They’d dated for a little over six months when Jon was a freshman, and he’d fallen hard.

Danny had been his first real relationship, and Jon was shocked that someone like him even looked his way. Impossibly handsome, incredibly fit, desired and envied in equal measure, and he dated scrawny, shy, insecure Jonathan Sims; the rumor mill went wild. They’d met at a party, and not even a good one. In a brief moment of liquid courage, Jon managed to insert himself into a group and fit in one snarky joke that sent Danny into stitches, the rest of the partygoers following his lead. For one second, Jon felt like he truly fit in, like he was someone worth knowing.

Danny had a way of making someone feel special. Big, romantic gestures, surprising him after class, taking him on little expeditions beyond campus. Jon didn’t drive, still doesn’t, and Danny wanted to show him the world outside of their privileged little campus.

But, like all of Jon’s relationships, it came to an end. Jon wasn’t ready for such overwhelming affection (didn’t think he deserved it, quite frankly), and Danny needed someone who could handle his fast-paced lifestyle. Jon was not that man. They broke up amicably, even if Jon shed a few tears in private, saw each other on campus a few times. Danny tried to reach out more than once, just as friends, but Jon’s never been able to handle more than one relationship at a time, and by then he’d met Georgie.

But now it seems the past is unavoidable, and standing near the circulation desk. Well, now walking in his direction, if the steady footsteps were any indication. Jon’s heart begins to hammer in his chest as it hits him that he is, in fact, hiding under a desk because a man who sort of looks like his ex is in his general vicinity. Coward.

“‘Lo!” God, even the voice is similar, if not as deep. “Tim Stoker. Reporting for duty.”

Stoker. Tim Stoker. Jon startles, slamming his head against the desk with a yelp.

Somewhere in his spiraling thoughts and throbbing head he remembers- Danny had a brother. An older brother that he adored. This must be the famous Tim- Danny made him out to be a saint, and though Jon never met him, he felt some fondness via Danny’s descriptions. But Tim’s going to have no fondness for him, especially considering Jon’s current position, hiding in pain under his coworkers desk.

“Pleased to meet you!” Sasha chirps, very clearly amused by the situation. “I’m Sasha James. And this-” she tugs at one of Jon’s legs, dragging him a few inches into sight. Jon buries his head in his hands and wishes he were invisible. “-is Jonathan Sims. We’ll be training you.”

“Excellent.” Tim’s voice holds the same good humor Danny’s always did, and sends a pang of nostalgia through his chest. “Er, you alright down there?”

“Yes,” Jon responds robotically, scrambling to his feet and standing behind Sasha’s chair, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes, lest he be drawn in. “I- uh, lost a pen. P-Probably left it in the copy room, I’ll just be going...there.” With that incredible performance, he fled.

And only tripped once on the way out.

________

So Jon’s kind of cute.

Tim doesn’t normally go for tiny disgruntled academics, but Jonathan Sims is an interesting fellow. He’s got a reputation for being the ‘problem child��� of the Research Department, awkward and prickly and always available with a snide word. He wields his books and files like a little suit of armor, and the only person he’s seen him open up to is Sasha. Besides their little conversations, Jon is all work and no play.

Except with Tim.

Sasha says she’s never seen anything like it, with one of her secret little smiles. Jon’s always staring. Usually, the man can’t hold eye contact to save his life, but he’ll spend full minutes looking at Tim when he thinks he can’t see. The first few times, Tim would turn around and smile, but that practically sent the man into convulsions, dropping his papers and jumping out of sight like a spooked cat. It was funny the first few times, but Tim pitied him enough to ignore it now. He hopes Jon enjoys the view.

God forbid he ask the guy a question. Jon will look around the room, as if waiting for someone else to answer, when it’s clearly directed at him. He’ll blush and stammer his way through every explanation, keeping a wide berth of at least two feet between them. Even when Tim wants him to look at his screen, he’ll squint from far away. Tim starting to think he smells bad, or has some sort of communicable disease unbeknownst to him.

“It’s not that,” Sasha assures him, again with that unreadable smile. “Trust me.”

Time to try something else.

He prints out his latest follow up, a rather elaborate statement regarding mistaken identities and absolutely nothing supernatural. He knows Jon prefers to look at things on paper, as screens ‘trigger his migraines’ if Tim understood his mumbles. Maybe if he can engage with him on familiar territory for the both of them, he’ll be able to hold a conversation. Tim specifically requested his help on this one.

“If you could just look it over, make sure everything’s up to snuff, that’d be great,” Tim says to the top of Jon’s head, as the man refuses to lift his own to meet his gaze. “You know how Dr. Walker is. Always-”

“Finding mistakes where there are none? I’m familiar with her methods,” Jon snorts, and Tim feels like he’s getting somewhere. A whole sentence! With classic Jonathan Sims snark! “I-I can give it a look. I’m rather busy, but -”

“Take your time,” Tim says with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I finished a bit early, so I don’t need it for a few days yet. Don’t want to put you out.”

“You’re not.” Jon meets his eyes for about ten seconds before ducking his head back down.

Progress!

[mcu1shots]

could you please make me a tony xplus size reader story and getting proposed to but telling him no because she's insecure about her body and him seeing it? it would mean alot im in a dark spot right now.

Of course! Here you go, I hope you enjoy and feel better soon!

Notes/Warnings: insecurity, self doubt, mentions of being a playboy, implications of body negativity, fluff, angst, Plus Sized!Reader

Word Count: 2,351

Nothing More Perfect (Tony Stark x Reader)

Of all the things you had heard about Tony Stark you had never imagined him to be quite the way that he was. He had always presented himself as the playboy billionaire, hosting large parties and being seen with many women. It was always all over the front page of every gossip magazine who Tony’s woman of the week was, it almost had become a game at one point of which celebrity or model would be the next one to fall to his charms. But everything changed a short time ago after the attack on New York.

Everyone had seen how Tony flew directly into the portal that led to… well, perhaps only the man himself knew the answer to that. Ever since then he had become… different. Parties hosted in his honour were still as rowdy as ever, but the inventor himself was barely there for a few minutes, enough time to enjoy a couple of the drinks being served, before he disappeared for the evening. Gossip columnists no doubt mourned for the stories that they used to have from him, for no longer did he have his classic ‘woman of the week’ but he was barely seen to be forming connections with anyone. That is, until someone sent in a picture of Tony with a woman.

That woman was you. It had been around two years ago now when the press found out about you, and all it had taken was someone’s untimely photo of him kissing you goodnight in the hallway of your apartment complex. Before that you had always been very careful not to tell anyone but your close friends about your relationship but, Tony being Tony, insisted that he had to kiss you one last time before your night together ended. And who were you to try to resist that?

The gossip columnists, no doubt bitter from the stories that they had been starved from for so long, had a field day writing about you and Tony, you found paparazzi at your work and it was hard to escape the articles. You remember Tony clearly telling you “everything they’re saying is just for the story” as he urged you to never pick up a magazine or read a single article, even going as far as to suggest blocking results from anything that would come up on your computer or phone.

And for a while you were successful in ignoring anything that the press said about you. You listened to Tony’s suggestion and turned a blind eye to any article about your boyfriend just in case it mentioned you in any way. You were struggling enough with self image without the words of journalists all fighting to get the most clicks on a story, Tony was helping you through everything and you didn’t want to jeopardize that in any way.

Things went well after that, you ignored anything that you saw about you and Tony’s relationship. And since the press already knew about you, you were free to have a normal relationship. Well, as normal as it could be when you’re dating a famous billionaire and superhero. Anytime you did something in public there was the risk of the press writing about it, but Tony’s nonchalance about the entire affair rubbed off on you and you allowed yourself to turn a blind eye.

Well, most of the time.

Sometimes, when Tony was away and you were left to your own devices for a while, it was hard not to go on social media and glance at the headlines that were advertised all over your feed, some of the articles seemed kinder than others, and some just seemed to be going for that dramatic effect. Those were the hardest ones to see, those were the ones that unraveled all of the work you had put into loving yourself. And you tried not to read them, you really did, but sometimes you weren’t all that successful.

Tonight was one of those nights, Tony had some Avengers meeting and would be away for a few days. He had invited you to come with him but you had declined, you always felt out of place in those meetings, surrounded by heroes more perfect than you could ever be. Captain America was genetically modified for perfection, Black Widow was trained from infancy to reach that level of perfection, and Tony had built himself into a perfect hero with his iron man suit. It was hard not to feel self conscious around all of that.

Though perhaps you should have gone with him, as you sat in the bedroom you and Tony shared at his Malibu estate. The window was open, allowing the warm night breeze to flow through. It was a beautiful evening, you should have been outside enjoying yourself, perhaps sitting on the beach and watching the stars, but instead you were sitting on the bed looking at your laptop, staring at one of the not-so-nice articles that had popped up on your screen. You hadn’t even clicked into it, but the title and thumbnail was enough to fill you with a wave of insecurity.

You had to force yourself to tear your eyes away from it and put the device on the edge of the bed. You swung your legs off of the side and stood, stretching out your arms and allowing a deep sigh to escape from your lungs. You should have taken his advice to block out those articles from appearing, but it was too late for that now. You rubbed a hand along your face, feeling more emotionally tired than anything else, and decided you needed some water and a bit of a walk around the house to clear your mind.

So that’s exactly what you did, after shaking out your legs which had started to fall asleep from how you had positioned yourself on the bed, you headed downstairs to get some lemon water from the kitchen. However you were confused when you heard the soft sound of music coming from the living room. Wondering if you had forgotten to turn something off, you changed your path and headed there instead.

And there was Tony, a piece of paper in his left hand and a small box in the other. He seemed to be reading over a speech of some kind which was unusual to you as you had never known him to actually prepare a speech in advance, usually able to come up with something magnificent on the spot, even with cameras and microphones pointed at him. His eyeline raised and caught on you as you stood at the edge of the room and he quickly shoved the paper into his pocket and got on one knee, opening the box.

“Y/N,” he paused to remember the words he had just been rereading for what felt like the hundredth time, and yet seeing you illuminated by the dim lighting of the moon and the stars that filtered in through the large windows, he forgot it all. “I had a whole speech prepared for this, of how I love you so much and all of that sappy stuff. But, it all boils down to the question of… will you marry me?”

You were stunned into silence as you watched him, the seconds seemed to tick by as he waited for your response, a grin still placed upon his face. But you weren’t in the best mindset right now, the image of that headline and thumbnail plastered in your mind. What were you supposed to say? You knew what he wanted you to say, he wouldn’t have asked the question if he wanted you to decline, but how could you say yes? How could you ever be good enough for the Tony Stark?

Your silence and stillness was broken as you took a step back, shaking your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word ‘no’ but by the way the inventor’s face fell you knew he got the message. “I’m sorry, Tony…”

You turned on your heels and rushed back up the stairs, unable to look at him any longer. Unable to offer him an explanation as you weren’t sure you could even get the words out. Tears rolled down your face as your mind was flooded with thoughts you hadn’t dared to allow for a long time. But your insecurity was like a bucket of water, catching drips of self doubt. That bucket had slowly been filling up over the past two years but the last drop that had been placed by that stupid article was what caused it to overflow, your tears were only proof of that.

Tony had to admit that wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting from you, not in the slightest. He had been expecting tears, of course, but one of joy as you proclaimed that you loved him too and would be delighted to marry him. He shoved the box into his pocket and followed after you, he would accept your denial of his proposal but he couldn’t leave you to be upset on your own, what kind of man would that make him?

He followed you up to the bedroom that you both shared but you had locked yourself in the ensuite bathroom before he could stop you. “Y/N, hey, come on, love, talk to me,” he begged, knocking on the door. But he received no response from you. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to think of if he had done something wrong. Then he saw it, the laptop still placed on the bottom of the bed, screen glowing in the darkness of the room. He paused, looking at the door and considering what he should do. But he figured that you wouldn’t be opening it any time soon and so he stepped away to see what you were looking at. Immediately he knew why you were so upset, seeing the headline and the image plastered across the width of your screen, a pop-up ad for one of those gossip companies that existed only in the depths of the internet. He knew about your struggles with confidence and self worth, and he was able to use his genius mind to put two and two together.

He closed the tab on the screen and then closed the laptop, not wanting you to see that again. He walked over to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “Y/N, my love, I know what the world says about you sometimes, how cruel they can be,” he began, resting his hand against the door, his face inches away from it and his eyes closed. “But as I close my eyes and I think of perfection, all I see is you, every part of you, no exceptions. My entire career I’ve tried to make something perfect but never would I be able to make anything that could compare to the perfection of you. We don’t have to get married, but please, please, come out here so I can hold you. I love you, Y/N, all of you. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

There was a pause, that agonizing silence as Tony tried to figure out if you believed him or if you could even hear him, there was a chance you were tuning him out and he truly was just talking to a door. But then he heard the click of the lock and stepped back as the door opened to reveal his beauty.

“How can you say that, Tony?” You asked, your voice shaking as you wiped tears from your face, your eyes were red from crying and you sniffled.

Tony lay his hand on your cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb and smiling softly at you, it was the kind of smile that seemed to be reserved for you and only you. It wasn’t some cocky grin or a smartass smirk, it was just… Tony. “Because I mean it, my love. Because, whatever I do, I will never find or make anything as perfect as you.”

You shook your head and closed your eyes, finding yourself unable to look at him, unable to face him. A shaking sigh fell past your lips as you exhaled and tried to think of how to articulate your thoughts to him. “The rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree with you, Stark,” you pointed out in a quiet tone.

Tony chuckled and stepped towards you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. “Maybe not, but I do pride myself on being the smartest man in the world. They don’t call me a genius for nothing, you know.”

And there he was, the Tony that you knew so well. The confidence that he had in himself, that he had in you. And a smile slowly came onto your lips and you nodded a bit at his words. “Then… yes.” You told him, opening your eyes to look up at him.

For a moment he looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Yes?” He repeated, asking for clarification on what exactly you were agreeing to.

“I’ll marry you, Tony Stark,” you said, leaning into the warmth of his hand and reaching out with your own to hold his free one, giving it a gentle squeeze.

And his smile grew, one that was bright and warm and reserved only for the two of you at that moment. “See what I mean? Perfect. I love you, Y/N Stark.” He said, tilting up your face and pressing a soft, chaste kiss onto your lips.

“I love you too, Tony Y/L/N.” You countered as you looked up at him, your red eyes now filled with love and happiness instead of doubt and despair.

Tony chuckled at your response. “Touché.”

You simply nodded and pulled him closer. “Now, kiss me properly this time?” You asked sweetly, pulling him close to you.

A grin passed his face and he nodded, leaning towards you. Before your lips met in a kiss he spoke, keeping his tone soft and his warm breath fanned across your face, “As you wish, my perfect fiancée.”

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[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

[drakenology]

Vapors - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings!: use of drugs (weed), smut, a lil comedy, fluff (cause im a cancer and we love romance in this house.) swearing because bakugo, Bakugo aged up (cause we don’t fuck children ‘round here), and sex under the influence of drugs. i also sprinkled some daddy kink up in here so...

author’s note: THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH FOR 100 NOTES ON MY RECENT POSTS!!! I really appreciate all the love, it makes me so happy to see that you guys like my work. Remember I’m taking requests and asks so please don’t be shy! here’s yet another bakugo smut because.. well, i’m obsessed with this man ok?? AND we need more stoner Bakugo idc idc idc. enjoy!

summary: Bakugo is a stoner and you’ve been kind of a goody two shoes for most of your life until the night you smoked with your boyfriend for the first time. 

It was a calm evening at home. You had just finished cleaning the home you shared with Bakugo as he helped by washing the dishes. You sigh, putting away the vacuum as you go and hop in the shower. You loved when he took days off of being a hero to spend some time with you at home. As you take your shower, you hear your boyfriend singing along to his favorite song; you smile as you hear him carelessly belt the notes off key. You loved his stupid ass so much. If you had ever told anyone he was a softie for you he’d probably kill you himself, but you still cherish the moments when he’s at his sweetest. You step out of the shower, drying yourself off as you dress yourself in a t-shirt and fleece pajama pants to keep warm and cozy. You walk out to the living room to a strong stench that completely caught you off guard. Bakugo was sitting on the couch, singing his song in his own little world; rolling a joint for him to smoke. 

“Katsuki! I told you no smoking in the house!” You nag, walking over to him. He smirked up at you, continuing to roll. He was in a really good mood today. He spent the day smoking weed and fucking his hot girlfriend. Even if she was a little uptight, she was fucking gorgeous and she had a good heart. Though he really wished you’d loosen your corset a bit. 

“Relax, shitty woman. I’m taking this outside. Just rollin’ up as all.” He said, concentrating on sealing his joint. He licked the seams of the paper, looking you in the eyes as he did so. He chuckled as he watched your face turn red. 

“You’ve never smoked before, huh?” Kastuki asked you, raising a brow at you as you watched him carefully roll his joint. You sat next to him, folding your arms as you shake your head no. Katsuki smoked, not a lot but whenever he had time to himself and you knew that. You never had a problem with it, you just never smoked yourself. 

“I’d never. I used to think weed was so bad for you. But you smoke it and you seem fine.” You admit, watching him hold a lighter over his joint to seal the edges. 

“Did you wanna try it with me? If not that’s fine, I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to, princess.” He said, cupping your chin in his hand as he gave you a small peck on your nose. You smile and think briefly. Katsuki knows that you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Ever since you two were kids, you were always so afraid to get into trouble for anything. He remembers when you cried all the way through detention for bickering with him in middle school. It was your first and only detention. You were so hysterical, it was as if someone died. You were just always so sweet and innocent. You never cussed or got too angry and that’s what Katsuki loved about you. You were such a calming spirit. Even though he was the complete opposite, it worked as you balanced each other out. 

“Okay. But just this one night.” You giggle, hopping up out of your seat. He stands up and walks to the balcony of your apartment, smacking your ass as you walk through the sliding door. You two were sat next to each other, watching the sun set over the clouds as he lights up the joint for you both to share. 

“Now I just wanna warn you, please don’t feel like you gotta keep up with me. You can stop when you feel like you’ve had enough. Okay?” He said, taking a drag. You nod, watching him closely to see how to properly smoke a joint. It had to be a science right? He takes another slow drag and blew out the smoke, passing it to you so you can have a hit. You take it and hold it like a cigarette, making Katsuki laugh as he watched his goody goody smoke weed for the first time. You take a puff, one that was a little too big for you to start off and immediately you cough up the smoke. Katsuki pats your back as he handed you some water to help your throat. 

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. You lightly hit his chest, trying to take another drag. 

“Just inhale. You’re overthinking it.” He said watching you slowly take a drag. Sure enough after following Bakugo’s instruction, you blow out the smoke. You felt your body instantly relax, your eyes hazy and low as you watch Katsuki smoke some more. God, he was so attractive. You’ve never sat and watched him smoke before, he’d always leave the room out of respect for you not liking the smoke in the house. But with the way your body feels right now, you think you’d been missing out for sure. You take in his form, he was slouched in his chair with his legs spread out as he smoked. You felt yourself blush as you watched him, in awe of his stature. He passed you the joint once more and you happily took another drag. You loved the high you were feeling, the stars in the sky twinkling much more pristine as then usual. You become a little giggly, your first time being high just seemed so hilarious. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bakugo says looking at you with hazy eyes, your laughter roaring through his ears. 

“I-I’m sorry I just- AHAHAHAHA!” You burst, hunching over laughing at practically nothing. Being high was kinda fun. Bakugo laughs with you, putting out the joint when he was done. 

“That’s enough for you, shitty woman.” He said standing up from his chair. You slowly stand up from your seat as you wobble a little, feeling your balance being thrown off by the influence of weed. He helps you inside, opening the door for you letting you walk in first. As a tradition, he smacks you ass as you walk through the door. You looked especially delicious when he was high, his pants feeling a little tight just looking at you. He plops down on the couch and turned on the T.V, flipping through Netflix as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I’m fucking HUNGRY.” You blurt out, looking through the cabinets for something to snack on. Katsuki froze, unsure that he heard what he just heard.

“D-Did you just fucking cuss?” He asked, completely shocked. Never in his years of knowing you has he ever heard you utter a swear word. He tried to get you to at least say “Damn.” and that never worked. 

“Oh shit... I did just cuss. Oh shit I just cussed again! FUCK!” You laugh, not being able to contain your foul language. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, finally loosening your metaphorical corset. Katsuki laughed. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked sarcastically, standing up from his seat on the couch. He walked towards you to see you stuffing you face with every snack from your pantry. You had a seriously bad case of the munchies, crunching away at some potato chips. 

“We gotta go food shopping tomorrow. Ain’t shit in here to eat. UGH why does food taste so fucking good right now!?” You said, cussing with ease at this point. Bakugo inched closer to you shaking his head, snatching the bag of chips away from you as he started to eat them. You frown, grabbing some cookies instead. 

“Gimme one.” Bakugo said, grabbing the cookie out of your mouth with his, taking a bite from it. You blush as you chew your own cookie, watching him look down at you. You never really realized how much taller Bakugo was compared to you. You took your hand and wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, kissing him deeply as you pulled him closer to you. Katsuki kissed you back, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. The kiss under the influence felt amazing. It was like time froze while you kissed, your lips combined feeling like electricity as you melt into him. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, immensely turned on by this man. You tug at the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, earning a chuckle from Katsuki. 

“You’re horny as fuck right now, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can tell you’re probably soaked right now.” You moan as he left open mouth kisses down your neck, reaching under your shirt to grab and squeeze at your bare breasts. You feel absolutely blissful, your panties soaking at this point. Why did everything feel so fucking good right now? 

“Kachan~” You whine, trying to grind against him as he licked and sucked on your neck, pinching your nipples lightly. You feel as if you’re about to cum just from him playing with your boobs and kissing your neck, your pussy pulsating as you grab onto him for dear life. All the pleasure was becoming so blinding you never wanted this feeling to go away. Katsuki lifts you up again to walk back into the living room with you in his arms, sitting on the couch with you on his lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He said, nibbling on your ear. You moan, grinding against his growing bulge, taking off your shirt to reveal your nude breasts to him. 

“You, daddy.” You purr. Katsuki freezes a little, shocked by what you just called him. You were pretty vanilla so hearing you call him daddy turned him feral. 

“Say it again.” He demanded, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, still grinding your pussy against the tent he was pitching in his pants, running your hands through his hair. 

“I want you, daddyy. Please fuck me.” You whine, getting off his lap as he stood. Your obedience was turning him on so much he just had to have you, not caring where in the house he took you at this point. He slid off your pants and panties in one go, kneeling down to get a closer looks at your wetness. 

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.” he hissed, kissing your inner thighs. “I would eat you out for being such a good girl but I need to be inside you. Now.” He said, standing up to take off his pants and his boxers, his thick length springing out as he pulled them down. You almost drool at the sight, spreading your legs and rubbing your pussy as you imagined his length stretching you out. You were never this sultry in the bedroom, always having Katsuki initiate. But tonight, you had a hunger you needed to be fulfilled. 

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Katsuki moaned, pumping his dick a few times before grabbing your face to kiss you with tongue. He pulled away to grab you by your neck, the dominating look in his eyes making your pussy gush. 

“Bend your sexy ass over.” He growled, letting you go as you obliged. He crouched behind you and gave your pussy a few taps with his dick before sliding inside your slick folds. You have never felt this good. Sex with Katsuki had always been amazing but tonight this was different. You moan sinfully as you felt him stretch you out, his thrusts progressing as he fucked you good. 

��D-Daddyy.” You moan, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. He smacks your ass a few times, quickening his pace as he grabbed you hair to pull it. You lean into the couch, one leg on the seat and one planted onto the floor, hardly being able to keep you stable as your legs shake. You feel your release come quicker than expected, you reaching back to rub your clit in harsh circles. 

“You make me feel so good daddy. Fuck, I love you!” You scream, pushing your face into your hands as Katsuki continued the assault on your g-spot. You start clenching around him, the sound of your moans and skin slapping together filled the living room as Katsuki starts to sweat, a caramel scent filling your nose. 

“So fucking sexy, baby. You gonna cum for me?” He asked, his hard thrusts causing you to see stars. Your moans are the only thing Katsuki can hear, unsatified as he pulled you up to him by your hair. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He said, fucking you even harder,  you not knowing that was even possible. You can hardly form a sentence, you responding with frantic yeses and moans and I love yous. He smirked, throwing you back onto the couch as he feels you clench around him once more. If he knew you were gonna be this frisky he would have gotten you high a long time ago.  

“I’m gonna cum, daddy! I- oh!” You shriek, cumming around his dick to Katsuki’s delight. He smacks you ass hard as he helps you ride out your orgasm only to quicken his pace again, chasing his own release. 

“Yeah.. ‘M gonna cum, baby. You ready?” He asked sweetly, kissing your back as he pounds you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasping for air to try and answer him. 

“C-Cum inside me, daddy. Oh god yes!” You moan, biting your lip. He did just that, a strong grunt leaving his mouth as he slowed down his movements, his cum painting your womb white. You sigh, almost missing his dick inside you as he pulled out of you. He picked you up and carried you to your shared room. 

“Can we smoke again later?” You ask innocently. He laughed and walked into the bathroom to start you both a bath. 

“Sure baby.” He said, giving you a sweet kiss. He pulled out the joint you both hadn’t finished as he led you into the bath. He goes to light it before looking to you to see if it was okay to smoke in the bathroom. 

“Fuck it.” You say, laughing as he lights up the joint for you to relax in your bath. 

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Life size mannequin.

Erik’s girl uses him as a mannequin but Erik takes it too far and it back fires.

If you were to ask Y/N how she gets everything done she wouldn’t be able to give you a straight forward answer. Juggling school, a full time job, and a side hussle isn’t for the delicate and inadequate. Staying up until 2 AM with flash cards sprawled out on the living room table and a ratty mannequin head between her legs every night, Y/N fights much needed rest to recharge for the next days events. That’s not the only thing her teeming life has to offer. Y/N’s new boyfriend, Erik would be seen as a distraction to some but she can hold her own without slacking on her studies, missing a days work, or forgetting to do a clients hair. He’s handsome, fun, intriguing, smart, and that dick...it needs its own SSN and certificate. It’s own area code even. If she had to admit it, whenever her mind drifted to their bodies tangled in her sheets, moaning and groaning, she lost focus just a little bit.

Y/N is off on a Friday for once and instead of catching up on rest, Y/N decided to use her entire day making a closure wig for a friend and client. It’s a 24 inch body wave natural black lace frontal. No shedding, very soft, bouncy, with overall great quality. If only her lousy mannequin head would keep still!!! Y/N gave up after the mannequin head slipped from her grip. She usually has a wig stand with a mannequin head attached to the end but all of them are covered with other wigs that didn’t need to be ruined. The old fashioned way brought her back to how frustrating it was to practice. And to make things worse, Erik is strolling back and forth in front of her naked after his shower and completely ignoring her closet stocked with plenty of towels. When he stopped in front of her, his strapping thighs and that lethal weapon dangling she felt her face grow warm and her belly grow butterflies.

“You’re not helping, jerk,” Y/N said as she continued sewing. She was almost finished.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days and the one time I have a chance to spend time with you, this is what you do.”

“This wig is past due, Erik. I was supposed to get this to her two days ago. Thank God she had some shit going on herself otherwise I would be losing a client.”

Erik gave up trying to seduce Y/N and grabbed a pair of briefs from his travel bag.

“Whatever, you owe me some after this,” Erik sat down on the bed, leaning on one elbow, “You really into this.”

“And?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m just saying. Why not be a full time hair stylist?”

“Because I don’t want to do this for a living. Why else would I be in school for something that has nothing to do with hair? It’s just money to make on the side.”

The mannequin slipped again and Erik burst out laughing.

“I wanna see you try it since you find my struggle funny.”

“Oh, you don’t want me to do it I’ll fuck that whole wig up.”

Y/N ignored his smart remark.

“I’ll come over there and mess that shit right up and make you start over.”

“Erik, I’m not in the mood right now leave me alone,” Y/N cut her eyes at him, “Try me if you want I will take the end of this needle and dig it in one of them keloids. Make it pop like bubble wrap, think I’m playing.”

“You forget you’re talking to someone with a pain kink. Why you think my pain receptors fucked up?”

“So, you mean to tell me, if I boil some hot water right now and pour it on your leg...you wouldn’t feel pain?”

Erik frowned his face into a mug at Y/N as he cocked his head back. The widening of his eyes is what made her giggle.

“You don’t know how to love me all you wanna do is hurt a nigga. What is wrong with you?”

“I’m only messing with you—”

“No you’re not. If I say some shit you don’t like I get slapped upside my head. If I want to be in a playing mood you threaten me with that little fist of yours. Just admit it, you enjoy tormenting me.”

“You’re so Goddamn dramatic,” Y/N tilted her mannequin head forward, “Can you do me a huge favor?”

“If it involves getting up off this bed the answer is fuck no,” Erik said while lying on his back now with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed.

“I already know you’re about to say no but...I want you to let me use you as my mannequin.”

“Huh?”

The way his voice rose an octave has Y/N laughing.

“Can you let me put this wig on you so I can finish this?”

Erik’s brows shot up as his eyes landed on her, “Why? So you can sneak and take a picture? I’m not falling for that.”

“Erik c’mon now. I just need your head for a second and that’s it.”

“I can think of other ways you can use my head but instead you wanna put some weave on me.”

Erik sat up and swung his legs around to face Y/N. Erik leans forward on his knees, staring at the wig with a steady blink.

“What size is that shit anyway? You know I have locs so...how the hell is that supposed to fit on my head?”

“I’ll just...fit it over that pineapple on top of your head.”

“Jokes,” Erik reached up and took out the elastic band that held his tapered locs. Shaking his head, his locs fell over his eyes, “I’m not putting that on my head.”

“Not even for me?” Y/N pouts, “Not your favorite girl?”

“I know you, Y/N. You’re gonna put that shit on my head, take a picture, and post it. I’m not falling for the shit. I told you that.”

“Whatever. You got a big ass dome anyway and this wig is average size.”

“Now you’re tryna clown me?” Erik said with a half smirk on his full lips flashing a bit of his gold canines.

“It’s like...mad wide from front to back...no wonder you keep your hair long—”

“I know you ain’t talking shit with that ginormous ass forehead, girl.”

“I thought you said all the fine girls got big foreheads?” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“That’s what’s helping you out. First time I saw you I was thinking damn, this bitch got a big ass forehead. And don’t think I forgot about how you played me when you sent that cropped picture.”

“Boy, fuck you!!” Y/N shouted over Erik’s laughter.

“I was—I was looking at the picture like where the rest of her face go?!”

Y/N glared at Erik as he dissolved into laughter.

“It’s really not that funny. Now are you gonna help me or not?!”

“Aight, I’ll do it this one time.” Erik sat up with one hand resting against his abdomen while the other wiped away tears, “Where do you want me?”

“On the floor between my legs, DUH where the fuck else would you be?”

He began dying laughing again from Y/N’s obvious annoyance. Erik took his place on the floor while Y/N climbed behind him onto the bed with each leg dangling on either side of him. Y/N takes the wig from the mannequin and before she placed it on Erik she tilted his head back more for easier access. Grabbing the half-done wig, Y/N fluffed out the ends before arranging it over Erik’s locs. Even at their short length it was a challenge to fit the wig the way she needed it.

“Can you PLEASE keep still?” Y/N prompted.

“I’m not even moving. This wig just don’t fit.”

Y/N applied force and wiggled it over his locs causing Erik’s head to rock back and forth aggressively. He growled before reaching behind him to grab her hands. The wig looked much shorter on him in the back from how prominent his back and shoulders are. Erik turned to face her with his lips tight and face frowned, the wig making him look ridiculous and silly. Y/N folded her lips into her mouth but the urge to laugh caused her cheeks to puff out.

“If only you knew how tight my fucking head feels right now. I can’t even smile without this shit feeling like my scalp is being pulled. This better come off when we’re done or that’s your ass.”

“Erik, turn around. I only have one section to do and then you’re free. Next time, don’t ask me to help you with shit if you’re gonna act like this.”

Erik sucked his teeth and faced forward so Y/N could continue. He lowered his head so she could work on the back area.

“Can I ask you something, babe?” Y/N said.

“What?” Erik replied.

“Do you mind modeling this for me—”

“See, I knew this shit—”

Erik stood up before Y/N could wrap her arms around him. He walked over to the full body mirror in her room to look at himself and that’s when he couldn’t hold back his own laughter.

“Yo, what the fuck do you have on my head!” Erik played with the strands while turning his head from side to side, “I look like James Brown, AYE!!!!”

Y/N was in stitches when he mimicked James Brown in the mirror. She fell back against her bed hollering from the way he looked.

“Nah, I’m not drunk right now I need to be drunk to enjoy this,” Erik leaned into the mirror, “I look better than half the bitches that come in here to get their hair done. Let me find out.”

“You are so STUPID!!!!” Y/N yelled between giggles.

“I’ll be back,” Erik left the room with the wig swaying from side to side since it wasn’t fully secure.

“Where are you going?!” Y/N shouted from the bed.

Erik didn’t respond to her loud voice. When he returned two minutes later he had a cup in one hand and his bottle of Hennessy in the other. Erik sat both the cup and the bottle on Y/N’s cluttered dresser to make himself a drink.

“This was supposed to be a quick thing now you’re drinking.”

Y/N watched Erik from her relaxed spot on the bed. Erik took two sips of his drink before standing in front of her mirror again.

“What are you doing?!”

Y/N couldn’t even finish her words when Erik started shimmying his shoulders and snapping his fingers to a soundless beat. Hooting with laughter Y/N could feel wetness on her cheeks.

“IM DONE!!!”

“This shit give bad bitches super powers.” Erik said

“Let me find out you wanna wear a weave now.” Y/N jokes.

Erik brought his cup to his lips and drank more Hennessy while moving his hips. This was too good not to get a video. With Erik being his usual silly self, Y/N snatched up her phone from the floor before pulling up her Instagram to record him. On her story, Y/N focused the camera on her boyfriend when he started singing the lyrics to Lady Marmalade.

“Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, da da. Gitchi gitchi, ya ya, here!!”

“Oh my God!!” Y/N cried out with a chuckle before ending the video. She uploaded it to her story before quickly tossing her phone towards the end of the bed.

“Creole Lady Marmalade!!!!!!!!”

“You hardly had anything to drink and you’re acting like this? Lord.”

“Aight, I’m done for now,” Erik made his way back over to Y/N with his cup, “put on a movie or something.”

“Ohhhhhh!!! So you’re asking me to pick this time?! I get to make a decision, Erik?! Wowwwwwwwww!!!”

“Girl, shut up.”

Y/N chose a random movie for background noise while she finished. She was surprised at how content he was and it made her consider asking him to help more in the future. It was fun and it made her laugh. That’s one thing about Erik that she adores. He matches her sense of humor. Y/N heard a vibration and when she glanced over to look at her phone the screen is still black. Between her legs she could see Erik staring at a text message from his Lock Screen

“What the fuck is this nigga talking ‘bout.”

“Erik keep still—”

“Nigga who is Miss Man?!”

Y/N paused to peer over Erik’s shoulder.

“This nigga just called me Miss Man from Scary Movie.”

Erik tapped on the microphone on his keyboard to speak.

“Who the fuck randomly texts somebody that at 11 PM? Fucking weirdo ass nigga. Let me find out you want Miss Man for yourself.”

“Who is Miss Man— OH! The PE teacher that was sniffing the underwear?!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!”

“This nigga...he said all you need is the underwear, skirt, nails, and makeup—wait.”

“And some long ass balls!!” Y/N snickered.

Erik whipped his head around and when Y/N met his fiery eyes she swallowed her laugh and it left an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

“Did you post me online wearing this wig, Y/N?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna ask you again. Did you post me online in this wig?

“Mm—mm. I did no such thing.”

“Then let me see your phone.”

Erik reached out for Y/N’s phone but she snatched it away. Erik moved his head to the side to flip some of the wig hair form his face but it fell forward again disobeying him.

“Did I? Uhhhh—OKAY OKAY!!”

It happened so fast. Erik has Y/N by the waist and up in the air.

“Yes, I did!! I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t listen to shit I tell you to do—”

“It was cute! You looked cute with it on—”

“You know what’s about to happen right?! I told you not to do that shit!”

“Erik, it’s all in fun. I’ll get rid of it—”

“That shit is embarrassing! What if I posted you online at your worse?”

“I don’t have a bad moment I always look good.” Y/N sasses.

“Says the girl that always complains about me taking off guard pics.”

“Erik, you’re not even at your worse. You act like I posted you looking bummy!”

Y/N kept her word and went to Instagram to delete. When she got there, she was met with at least ten DMs replying to her story.

Corythemua_: gurllll who is that? 👀 ooooh he is fione!!! Is he into guys?

Jermaine_87: Wtf is he doing?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 let me text this nigga

Katriceee: how did you convince him to do this?! LOL

Amethyst1993: when he find out about this you are in trouble girl!!!

“did you delete the video yet?! Don’t let me find out it’s still there!”

“It’s gone! Happy?! What happened to being in a playing mood?!!”

“Now all my friends texting me and clowning me! You play too many games. Hurry up and help me take this shit off!”

Erik brushed some strands from his lips with his fingertips and Y/N squealed. Nothing he could say or do would make her listen. He looked absolutely hilarious with the wavy tresses of the wig moving in tandem with his brawny physique.

“Erik, I can’t take you seriously with that wig on.”

“Then take this off!!”

Erik attempts to pull it off but suddenly stops when he realizes he needs help.

“I want this shit off now, Y/N.”

“FINE! Come here.”

Y/N tapped the floor with her foot for Erik to take a seat. When he does, Y/N does the opposite of what he asks and begins to place his hair into two buns. She silently laughed behind him, praying that he wouldn’t hear her falling apart. When she was finished, Erik assumed she was done because he didn’t feel the hair tickling his skin. When he stood up to look in the mirror, Erik groaned loudly at his appearance before flexing his jaw at her threateningly to make her listen. It didn’t work at all for him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

“You look so crazy!!!!!” Y/N hugged her sides and rolled on the bed with laughter, “And that evil look is making it even funnier!!”

“I’m about to beat your ass if you don’t take this shit off!!! It wouldn’t be funny if this shit stuck now would it?!!! I gotta go to work and all that nah take this off—

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Aight, are you finished?!” Erik said impatiently.

“Baby...you don’t understand...oh my God.”

“Y/N, for real, take this dumb ass wig off before I cut it off!”

“Okay okay!! Before I do...you gotta do one last thing for me...pretty please? With caramel sauce and a cherry on top? I’ll do whatever you want if you do this last thing for me.”

“.....”

“PLEASE BABY?!!”

“.....”

“Erik, look, it’ll be funny! I just want you to cat walk for me and then I’m done—”

“Ahhhhh HELL no—”

“Please—”

“For what?! So you can keep laughing?!”

“I’ll suck your dick, lick your balls—”

“Girl, that won’t work on me—”

“You sure about that?”

Y/N poked her tongue out and started doing tricks with it to show off her tongue ring. Erik’s eyes squinted at her but she could tell from his breathing that he wouldn’t be able to fight it much longer. He even said so himself that her head game makes him weak and no woman before her has ever made him weak.

“...from here to the bed and that’s it.”

Y/N smiled victoriously.

Erik placed his hands on his tapered waistline before lowering his head. Y/N could hear him silently laughing to himself before he lifted his head displaying an adorable dimpled smile. He started strutting towards Y/N with stiff hips and two left feet. All this from her flicking her tongue. Y/N stared at him with her mouth hanging open and eyes wide. He had a focused look on his face and the wig with its two buns flopped up and down messily like bunny ears. He struck a pose with his hip jutted out before he started to vogue. At that point, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer. She had to grab onto Erik so she could catch her breath. Soon, Erik’s deep laugh could be heard.

“You get on my nerves,” Erik sat beside Y/N, “now, can you take this off of me?!”

“Turn around,” Y/N took down the buns before carefully sliding the wig off from front to back, “You’re off the hook after that I’m gonna go back to using this mannequin head.”

“Yeah, finish up so I can spank that ass for posting me on social media.”

Y/N did a double take, “I’m still in trouble?!”

“Yeah, you’re not off the hook.”

The remaining time Y/N finished her clients wig, she thought up all possible ways he could punish her this time.

“Can I have a kiss?” Y/N asked with a sweet sounding voice.

“Yes,” Erik poked his thick, moist lips out and Y/N pressed her soft lips against them.

“Mmm...still in trouble, ma,” Erik whispered.

[scarofthewind]

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

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A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy! 

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon:  Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

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Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was. 

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over. 

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions. 

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay. 

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.” 

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it. 

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough. 

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible. 

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it. 

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.” 

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment. 

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke. 

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him. 

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of. 

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close. 

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back. 

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night. 

[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[primalsouls]

white rabbit pt 4

langa hasegawa x gn! reader (pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3)

anon: will white rabbit have a part 4? ( if yes pls pls give them a happy ending hehe ) but its oki if you dont want to, no pressure! i just really enjoyed it and i love ur writing btw :)

⚠️ : im terrible at picking up what's a trigger, so let me know is there's anything uncomfortable!

theme: general

note: ooh my heart 💔 rip white rabbit 🐇🙏🕊 anyway, here's pt 4! :> i hope you like it and enjoy it! and thank you for reading! let me know what you think. :) i really like this chapter the most lol

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

"Leave... Wonderland?"

"Forever?"

Reki and Langa stared at Adam with frowns on their face. Eyes widen at the words. Whispers surrounded them quick, destroying the small silence that gave the words to settle in for everyone. Blue eyes looked back at the [h/c]-haired skater. Their head still hanged low but he could see the sheer rage their fists held.

"He's saying that... [Y/N] [L/N], the White Rabbit, is leaving S." Miya repeated.

"Forever. Meaning.... They're kicked out." Shadow sighed, shaking his head.

Hearing those words, [Y/N] gritted their teeth and unclenched their fists. They looked up at Adam, a pleading expression on their face as they pulled their hoodie back.

"P-please... I don't wanna leave." They said, voice cracked in the beginning. Langa's heart broke at the sight. But before he could do anything, Adam walked up to them. "I'll do anything, please. Let me stay!" They continued but they flinched when their board was taken away from them harshly by Adam.

"A bet is a bet. Besides, it's about time S gets rid of its pests." Adam grinned. He snapped his finger, a couple of men bringing in a can of gasoline and a box of matches. Their eyes widen. Langa and the rest of his friends stood frozen, unable to believe the scene before them. Silence took over the crowd. [Y/N] knew they couldn't do anything to stop Adam from destroying their skateboard. "You should have won and this wouldn't happen. Remember, it's your fault." He said quietly. And with sheer power, he lifted the board and broke it in half with his knee. [Y/N] stared at him with wide eyes and mouth gaped slightly in shock. Tears pooled up and streamed down their cheeks one by one, one after the other.

"N-no... please, don't..." They whispered, a hand reaching out weakly but it didn't move much. [Y/N] was too shock to move any more than an inch.

Adam threw the broken board on the ground. He was handed the gasoline and the box of matches. He poured the liquid over the pieces, his masked eyes never leaving his younger sibling's face. Their look of terror filled him with chills. He loved it. Such as he loved the finish touch to the punishment. With elegance, Adam pulled out a match and stroke it on the igniter side of the box. Fire bursts on the matchstick. Adam flicked it onto the broken board like it was nothing and within seconds, flames burst to life, consuming the skateboard.

Langa watched with horror. [Y/N] didn't deserve that. They didn't deserve to leave. A bet wasn't even established. So, why? Why was this happening? His eyes went up to [Y/N].

"White Rabbit-"

"They're no longer go by that title." Adam interrupted coldly. "By losing this beef, no only are they banned from S, their title is no longer theirs to claim. White Rabbit is dead." Langa's eyes widen as his frown deepened. He couldn't believe it. This was not supposed to happen. Not supposed to lead to this results. No one supposed to be kick out or strip from their title. Adam reached a hand out. Langa saw how tensed [Y/N] got as the hand grew closer to them. The gloved fingers gently held into the S pin. It was on their collar of their hoodie but the next second, it wad ripped off from them. He threw it into the flames.

"I... I'm sorry..." [Y/N] apologized. Langa didn't understand. There was nothing to apologize for. Was it for Adam? For losing the race and everything they built for themselves? [Y/N] kept staring at the board, not noticing Adam turned his back on them. But his last words lef them in breaking in pieces.

"And don't bother coming home. A wild animal like you don't belong there. Never had and never will." As his final saying, Adam picked up his board and walked away but stopped to face Langa with a smirk. "Oh, and once again, my dear SNOW, congratulations." Langa blinked, watching Adam disappeared from everyone's sight.

"Damn..." Shadow muttered.

"Vanished from S... what a turn of events." Miya commented quietly.

Reki frowned at Adam's disappearing figure before he turned to Langa and [Y/N]. Everyone else slowly departed. Reki walked up to the two skaters, the broken board still caught in flames. Tears continued to spill from their eyes, Reki saw. Before the two could say any sort of comfort words to them, [Y/N] turned away from them and ran, ran as fast as they could. Away. They needed to get away and breathe. They couldn't breathe properly. Their chest was killing them. Sobs caught in their throat when they tried to cry. It hurts them. Their heart hurts. Everything was always their fault. They deserved. They believed they deserved it. They weren't a Shindo. They were a pest in the family. That was why Adam-no-Ainosuke told them not to come home. He was kicking them out. He was probably make up a lie to their aunts to make it seem it was their decision. For the better of the Shindo Family, they would say.

Life truly wasn't fair.

"C'mon, let's go!" Langa said, getting ready to chase after them but Reki grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He winced, the grip on his arm reminded him of the injuries he received during the race. "Wha- what? We have to go after them, Reki." He said, pointing towards [Y/N] running off.

"But you'll hurt even more with injuries like this. Besides, it's not our business. What happened with them was between them and Adam." Reki said. Miya nodded as he walked up to them.

"He's right, Langa. We should stay out of it. They're no longer of importance." Miya added in, crossing his arms over his chest. Langa frowned at the two boys.

"It's probably not the best time to even go after them. It's best that we mind our own business for now." Shadow advised, the other two boys giving affirmative responses. Langa tried to come up with reasons to go after them, but Reki shook his head and led Langa awau from the factory, pointing out the cuts once again. That was the last time Langa saw [Y/N].

The past couple of weeks, they were no were in sight. No familiar white hoodie resembling a white rabbit was found around S. No one spoke about them. It was like they never existed in the first place. As if S never heard of a skater called White Rabbit. Langa tried to find ways to get into contact with them but whenever he mentioned them, he was ignored, shut down, avoided. He was worried for them, for their safety. If Adam truly meant his words, then where would [Y/N] be? Langa wanted to make sure they were okay. That was all he wanted to know.

"[Y/N]... where are you?" Langa muttered as he walked through the park. He was planning to meet Reki at their usual hangout. Although, he wanted to clear his mind out of [Y/N] and the events that occurred. It wasn't their fault. It was his. If he never beef against them, Langa would had still see them every night at S, even from a fair distance to admire them. They would still be in his life, somehow.

"Ah, sorry..." A tired voice said. Langa looked down, not realizing he bumped into someone. He did felt something hit him as he walked, but he didn't pay too much attention. Langa opened his mouth to apologize instead but words were caught in his throat. His eyes widen. He couldn't believe it. The board in his hand dropped to the ground beside him, both hands reaching up a bit.

"It's you..." Langa whispered. Confusion replaced the apologic gaze on their face. "White Rabbit." When the title left his lips, it was their turn for their eyes to grew wide. Langa smiled brightly. "It's you, White Rabbit. [Y/N]." Langa was happy. He found his white rabbit once more. But no more words left Langa's lips as a hand slapped his cheek. It took him a second to register the outcome. A shaky hand of his reached to touch the burning cheek. He flinched when his fingers came into contact. "Wh-what?" A handprint appeared as a light red shade on his cheek. His eyes focused on them. They didn't wore their signature hoodie. Only a black one with dark blue jeans and white Vans shoes. Their eyes were still the same crimson color but filled with anger. And sadness? Langa parted his lips, unable to say anything.

"Don't call me that name. Because of you, I'm no longer.... that..." [Y/N] spat out, glaring dangerously at Langa. "You took everything away from me. You ruined my life!" They yelled, all the feelings they tried to bottle in exploded. Langa watched with a shook expression as they ranted off on him. He may be dense to others' emotions but he could pick up the hurt in [Y/N]'s voice. The way they trembled with rage. He didn't like that. Langa didn't like seeing them upset. Especially when hd was the one who caused it.

"I'm sorry."

[Y/N] paused, staring at Langa with wide eyes. Their frown grew deeper as they tried to find any sort of pity or joke in his baby blue eyes. In which they felt like they were looking at the ocean. So blue. Like the sky. [Y/N] shook their head rapidly, gritting their teeth.

"Oh, shut up. I don't need your pity. And I doubt you're sorry! Because of you, not only was I kicked out of S, I was kicked out of my home... Not like it ever felt like home anyway..." They said, mumbling the last words but Langa caught them.

"Wait? Home... Where were you staying at?" Langa asked, voice filled with concern. [Y/N] scrunched their nose, eyes narrowed. "I swear, I'm not pitying you. I'm actually... worried. I've been worried for a long time now. Ever since you left S." Langa said, looking away from them, sudden feeling timid for no particular reason. They raised a brow, watching Langa's movements to fact-check his worries. There was no hint of him lying. But they still kept their guard up. "I even asked around back in S for the past few weeks. Not one single person said anything...It's like you-"

"-never existed." They continued for him softly, eyes casted down to the ground. Their features relaxed but Langa noted the sadness stayed. No anger in sight. They sighed tiredly, running a hand through their hair. "Doesn't matter... Just stop it." [Y/N] crossed their arns over their chest, raising a brow. "Beside, the hell you kept asking about me? Aren't you happy I've been kicked?"

Langa shook his head right away once the question next their lips.

"No. I'm not happy. In fact, I..." Langa took a deep breath, trying to think on his words before they left his mouth. "I'm not enjoying myself." He mumbled, making [Y/N] take a step closer to hear him properly. They tilted their head, lips tugged down a bit as they urged him to repeat himself and keep going. "It makes me sad not to see you at S anymore. I didn't want any of that to happen. I didn't even know what was going on." Langa shrugged, looking at them with a pout. A pout they found adorable. He looked like a kicked puppy who didn't like the fact their owner left their home everyday. [Y/N] mentally cringed at the thought. What were they thinking? This was the same guy who went up against their brother and banned them from S. They hated him. They were supposed to hate him. [Y/N] clicked their tongue, throwing Langa off the sense, wondering if he said anything wrong. A faint red hue decorated their cheeks. They turned their back on him, hugging themselves.

"Whatever. Whether you knew what was going on or not, doesn't matter. My board got destroyed and I can't go back to S. Everything happened..." [Y/N] whispered, arms slowly fell back to their sides as they watched the sun beginning to settle down for the rest of the day. "I've got nothing... I've got no one-"

"You got me." Langa butt in. The words made them do a double take on him. It caught them off guard. And Langa continued to surprise them. A determined glint in his eyes as he stepped closer. "Reki can build you a new board and we can all skate. Together. We can skate outside of S, anyway. It'll be fun!" Langa bounced a bit in his steps, smiling brightly. "We can hang out together. And if you don't have a job, you can work with Reki and me. You even move in wi-"

"Stop..."

"We can go to school togeth-"

"Stop it."

"You got us! So, you don't have to wor-"

"Shut up!"

Langa blinked, taken back by the sudden outburst from [Y/N]. He focused back on them, confused why they told him to quiet down. Their brows knitted down, hands clutched by their side. The sunset shoned behind them. The soft breeze brushed against their figure out. And if Langa squinted, he could had notice their faint blush reddened slightly. They looked cute. He wanted to see them blush again.

"Just... why are you doing this?" They asked, their eyes looking anywhere but Langa. They were shy. They found it unbelievable but it happened. They were shy.

Langa stared at them for a moment, making [Y/N] nervous.

"Because I like you."

Those words froze [Y/N] on the spot. Their eyes widen, lips parted slightly. The words ran through their mind like an echo. Langa's charmed smile implanted with it.

"And I want to be your friend."

Impossible.

"That's..." [Y/N]'s face was burning up. Cheeks redder they matched their eyes. "That's stupid." They blurted out quickly, taking a step back. Langa frowned a bit, not unexpecting that sort of answer to his confession. A confession they weren't sure if they were happy about or sadden by it.

"No one wants to be my friend. No one likes me... That's what they always told me." [Y/N] took another step back, brows knitted down but not in anger but in sorrow. Every step they took back, Langa takes one forward. "I'm unlovable... I don't... deserve it." The young former skater shook their head, as if snapping into reality. Tears welled up on their eyes. "You don't like me. You don't. You don't, you don't, you don't, you don't," They repeated quietly, hugging themselves as the tears rolled down their cheeks. Langa panicked. He didn't wanted to upset them. What they said made him wonder who told them such statements. They trembled and he didn't know what to do.

Except for one thing. And he hoped he don't get slap doing so.

Arms wrapped around their frame, a hand on their head as the other rest on their lower back. The hand stroke their head as the other ran their back in a circular form. Langa closed his eyes, hugging [Y/N] closed to him.

"Shh... shh... It's okay, [Y/N]..." He whispered. "Whoever told you those things, they... they don't know what they're talking about." Langa took a deep breath. "But I'm telling the truth. And you do deserve it." He pulled away a bit, cupping their face with his hands and made them looked at him. "I like you. I like you very much. And even though I want to be more, I do want to be your friend." Langa smiled genuinely, blue eyes staring into red ones. "So, please... let me be your friend."

[Y/N] stared at Langa, stunned in his embrace. The blush darkened as Langa continued. They couldn't believe it. Their heart pounded little by little with every word Langa spoke. The hands on their face felt nice. The comfort hug was something they never experienced. They only got hurt by the hands of those who dared say they loved them. But, for whatever reason, they trusted Langa's words.

"Please... don't hurt me..."

[missfangirll]

If im not too late, I'd request anything for Beiyuan/Wu Xi. There are so few works out there for them :c

So, I wanted to write some XiYuan fluff and somehow ended up writing Dad!Beiyuan bonding with Chengling, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband and a sort-of-fix-it for WoH episode 36?? 😅

The plot follows the show, after episode 36, but their shared past in the novel (Qi Ye) did happen, if that makes sense? 😅 Sorry for the confusion.. The title is a Chinese poem called 蝶恋花 by Liu Yong.

Anyway, here's some XiYuan fluff/dad!Beiyuan/WoH fix-it? 😂😂

- - - - -

Fandom: Qi Ye, Word of Honor Rating: General Relationship: Wu Xi/Jing Beiyuan, Jing Beiyuan & Zhang Chengling Tags: Fluff, Bonding, Beiyuan thirsting after his husband, Fix-it of sorts Words: 2565 Summary: In an inn, Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi, together with Zhang Chengling, await the return of Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing, who have run off to die on a mountain. Beiyuan has to care for Zishu's disciple, while being distracted by his husband.

Read on AO3

- - - - -

Butterflies in Love with Flowers

Jing Beiyuan has plenty of practice waiting.

He has waited for sixty years at the Three-Life Stone, has waited for Helian Yi for six lifetimes. Has waited in the Imperial City for his schemes and machinations to bear fruit, has waited for Wu Xi. He has plenty of practice.

Which doesn’t mean, however, that he is a patient man.

Jing Beiyuan paces the inn room he shares with his husband, deliberately walking closely past Wu Xi who is sitting cross-legged at the low table reading, looking entirely unperturbed. Much to Jing Beiyuan’s dismay, that is to say, so he brushes Wu Xi’s back with the seam of his sleeve every time he walks by.

Wu Xi doesn’t react for a while, but after the sixth turn, without saying a word, he casually grabs Jing Beiyuan’s sleeve and, turning slightly, pulls him down in his lap, effectively trapping him there with both arms tightly around him.

Jing Beiyuan is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot, and he would never let an opportunity pass to cuddle his husband. With a deep sigh, he settles into the other’s embrace, leaning his head on Wu Xi’s broad chest.

“I am worried,” he admits eventually.

Stroking his hair soothingly, Wu Xi just hums in quiet understanding.

"I'm worried about the two idiots on the mountain," he adds, as if that wasn't obvious, and Wu Xi, as expected, doesn't reply. Jing Beiyuan continues, unbothered by his husband's lack of reaction. "I keep telling the little idiot," here he pauses to marvel at the fact that he distinguishes his companions merely by the grade of their idiocy, then sighs inwardly, "that his shifu and shishu are fine, that he should focus on his training in order to have something to show his shifu upon his return, but sometimes I…." He trails off, snuggling closer into the other's neck.

Zhang Chengling isn't coping well with the fact that both his mentors left with the intention to die on that mountain, albeit with different purposes in mind, and Jing Beiyuan has had to forcefully stop him from climbing that mountain himself, twice by now. For now he seems to have begrudgingly accepted his fate, although Jing Beiyuan can see his outbursts of anger for the fear they are.

He inhales deeply, willing his thoughts to calm down. All they have to do now is wait, wait for Zishu and his little maniac to return safely, and return they will, he has no doubts about it. He can’t, for Chengling’s sake.

A knock on the door interrupts the silent moment and with a groan, Jing Beiyuan clambers out of his husband’s lap to open the door, while said husband reaches for his abandoned book. The elderly innkeeper in front of him doesn’t spare a glance at Jing Beiyuan’s slightly ruffled hair, fiddling with the cap in his hands. At the other’s raised eyebrow, he bows so deep his forehead seems to touch his knees, and Jing Beiyuan has to bite back a grin.

“Yes?”, he asks magnanimously. The man shifts uncomfortably. “Your highness,” he begins, but Jing Beiyuan interrupts him with a hand on his shoulder. “I am certainly not worthy of such a noble title, my good man, just call me Lord Seventh, and speak freely. What bothers you?”

The other man bows again, not as low as before, but it still looks uncomfortable. “Your lordship,” he begins, and Jing Beiyuan sighs, hearing a slight huff of laughter from behind. Wu Xi knows of his resentment against his past life and the decorum it entailed. “Your lordship,” the man repeats, sounding increasingly desperate. “Your, umm.. The young master… He… The courtyard…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but Jing Beiyuan has a vague idea of what he is trying to say, so he just nods and breezes past the innkeeper, who hastily shuts the door and scrambles to follow him.

From the inn’s inner courtyard he can already hear a dull thudding noise that grows louder as he approaches. In the yard, next to a small wooden shack, he finds the source of the noise: Zhang Chengling, gracelessly hitting the timber wall with a training sword, his face and back sweaty, his hair in disarray, his mouth a thin line. Jing Beiyuan nods to the innkeeper, who retreats to another building, then slowly approaches the boy, keeping his distance from the sword. Leaning on the wooden wall, he stays silent, observing Zishu’s disciple. The boy has grown a finger’s breadth over the last weeks, his body starting to stretch, his face about to lose the softness of childhood. He has seen a lot these past months, Jing Beiyuan muses, and feels infinite fondness for the little idiot.

Zhang Chengling has seen him, of course, but doesn’t make any move to stop his grim assault on the shack, so Jing Beiyuan says after a while, “You might want to use a real sword when you intend to put a hole in that thing.” His teasing doesn’t gain a reaction, however, the boy still hacking away at the wood. “Chengling,” he says after a while, softly, gently, “they will return.”

“I know,” comes the strained reply, but the beating doesn’t stop. The hits seem to grow less forceful, though, and Jing Beiyuan inches closer. “If Tian Chuang had succeeded,” he adds quietly, “we would know.” He looks directly at Chengling who stubbornly avoids his gaze, but his movements slow further, until he swings the sword like a flag bearer his banner in a parade. Jing Beiyuan carefully closes the distance, intercepting the last swing with his hand, gripping the wooden sword. He notices its shaking, and it’s only a heartbeat before Chengling collapses into his arms, letting go of the sword and wrapping both arms around him in a desperate embrace. Jing Beiyuan lowers the sword, then enfolds the boy in his arms, a hand on the back of his head, and lets him sob quietly into his shoulder.

“I miss them,” the boy snuffles into his robes, his face hidden. “Sometimes I dream about them, dead and cold, buried under all that snow and I…” He hiccups, then starts sobbing again. Jing Beiyuan breathes slowly. A few days after Zishu, and then the Ghost Valley Master, ascended the mountain, there had been news of an immense avalanche that had buried a large group of people, presumably the joined forces of the Window of Heaven and the Scorpion King. But nothing had reached them since, and all of them had grown restless, even Wu Xi, even though he would never admit to it.

A hand on the boy’s back, Jing Beiyuan rubs soothing circles. “Come with me,” he says at last, “Let’s go inside and have some tea, hm?” A nod, then Chengling takes a step back, sheepishly rubbing his red eyes. “‘m sorry,” he mumbles, but Jing Beiyuan just huffs. “Never be sorry for how you feel,” he admonishes gently, putting an arm around the boy’s shoulder, subtly scooping the wooden sword up with the other hand. “Let’s have some tea and sweets, what do you say?” Chengling sniffs again, then says with the hint of a smile, “Didn’t the Great Shaman explicitly forbid us to eat sweets before dinner?” Jing Beiyuan makes a carefree gesture, then, lowering his voice, adds in a conspiratorial tone, “We have to hide it, then,” which finally makes Chengling laugh. A lighter air around them, they stroll back to the room. (Wu Xi gives them a stern look as Jing Beiyuan retrieves a bag of sweets from his sleeve, but says nothing when they share some over tea, which Jing Beiyuan secretly finds endlessly endearing.)

⚘⚘

The next morning finds Jing Beiyuan on a bench in that same courtyard, at the other side this time, half hidden under a canopy hung with ivy. In the middle of the courtyard, illuminated by the rising sun, Wu Xi is practicing his martial arts.

Jing Beiyuan admires everything about his little venom. His honesty, his loyalty, his unrestrained emotions, but watching the other train always leaves him breathless and with a dry mouth. Wu Xi, in his usual black robes, is a sight to behold: Even under layers of cloth his broad shoulders are visible, his long black braids with the silver hairpiece, the moon mirrored in a clear lake at night. Wu Xi in his robes is a force to be reckoned with. Wu Xi without his robes, in just some black pants, is… Well. Enticing enough to make Jing Beiyuan leave the bed before sunrise and watch him train, even after being together for years and having seen his husband naked plenty of times. Still, watching him move through the forms is different. His skin glistens with sweat, making the light catch on his collarbones, his abs. His movements show a raw power, a graceful intensity that always reminds Jing Beiyuan of a large tiger. He moves silently, with deadly precision, as if he wanted to sneak up on a hidden assassin. He doesn’t use a weapon, but Jing Beiyuan knows how strong he is, how fast, and is pretty sure that a sword would only slow him down.

Distractedly petting the sable that is curled contentedly in his lap, Jing Beiyuan marvels at his husband, until Wu Xi ends his performance with a graceful vault, landing on his hands and feet like a large cat. His hair, tied back only with a simple black leather cord, falls over his face with the movement, his eyes like glimmering coals behind the black curtain. It reminds Jing Beiyuan of their early days, of the time Wu Xi wore a veil, and he himself a mask of another kind. Trying to hide the slight shiver, he smiles at his sweaty husband who now approaches him. Before he can say anything, Wu Xi steps between his knees, carefully scooping up the sable, then reaching down to cup the nape of Jing Beiyuan’s neck. With a hint of restrained power, he pulls him up and into a searing kiss. Smiling against his lips, Wu Xi whispers, “Room,” and Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled.

It’s still early enough in the morning that they don’t have to be overly cautious, so when they shed their respective robes - and pets, Wu Xi’s tiny green snake gets set in its cage, while the sable leaps nimbly away from the commotion - Jing Beiyuan can’t suppress a giggle at his husband’s eagerness.

“What brought this on?”, he asks, a little breathless, as the other’s teeth close over his pulse point. Wu Xi stills for a heartbeat, then bites down harder, licking over the spot, which elicits a shiver.

“You,” is the answer, and Jing Beiyuan pulls away a fraction to look at his husband with a raised eyebrow. “I can’t remember doing anything out of the ordinary,” he smirks, “whereas you were--”

“You watched,” Wu Xi breathes into his neck, leaning back in. With another giggle, Jing Beiyuan lets himself be pulled to the bed.

Later, when they lay under scrunched up covers, sated and sweaty and content, Jing Beiyuan nuzzles into Wu Xi’s chest, inhaling his sharp scent.

“Would you do that,” he asks eventually, his voice quiet. “Sacrifice your life, I mean. For me.”

“Yes,” is all Wu Xi answers, firm and without hesitation. “I would. I will. Everything.” His arms tighten around Jing Beiyuan. After a long silence, the latter says softly, “But what if I didn’t want that?” He turns slightly to look up. “What if I didn’t want a life that’s bought with yours?”

Wu Xi doesn’t meet his gaze as he replies, “I still would. I couldn’t bear the thought of being without you, Beiyuan. I’m a coward, but I couldn’t. I thought I’d lost you once, and I..” His voice breaks, and Jing Beiyuan reaches up to cup his face. “You’re not. I would like to say that I would react differently, but…” He shrugs with a wry smile. “I wouldn’t. If I could save your life by giving up mine, I would. I would, and then wait for you again at the Three-Life Stone, until you came to meet me. And maybe this time, you would be the one with white hair.” Snuggling closer, he trails a finger over the other’s chest, then places his hand on his sternum, feeling the unrestrained energy underneath. Wu Xi turns his head, then cups Jing Beiyuan’s cheek, meeting him in a slow, languid kiss.

“I love you,” he breathes against the other’s lips, “I have loved you for all your lifetimes and I will continue to love you in all that follow. Where you go, I’m going, Beiyuan.”

⚘⚘

It takes almost another month until Zishu and his little-, no, his giant idiot return. On a sunny afternoon, as if they had just been out for a stroll, they saunter casually into the inn’s dining room, and Jing Beiyuan almost drops his teacup, staring in disbelief. Before he can say anything, Zishu grins - he grins! - at him and plops down into the bench opposite him, Wen Kexing at his side. Jing Beiyuan notices in utter shock that the latter’s hair has gone completely white.

“Wha--,” he starts, but now the waiter has spotted them, hurrying over. Giving their, admittedly quite ragged, appearance a cautious once-over, he clears his throat, but Jing Beiyuan hurries to assuage him. “Whatever these gentlemen desire to eat,” he declares, probably with more grandeur than necessary, “they will receive.” The waiter hurries to nod his head like a turtle, but Zishu just shakes his head. “Just cold water,” he says, much to Jing Beiyuan’s and the waiter’s astonishment, but the latter immediately scrambles off to bring them their order.

Jing Beiyuan looks scrutinizingly at both of them, then says slowly, “Welcome back.” Zishu nods solemnly, taking Wen Kexing’s hand under the table. “Sorry it took so long,” he says quietly. Jing Beiyuan snorts. “You don’t have to apologise to me,” he gestures into the general direction of the inner courtyard, “but to your silly little disciple.” Zishu at least has the decency to flinch, looking uncomfortable. But it is Wen Kexing who speaks first. “How is he?”, he asks, and Jing Beiyuan notices the cautious fondness in his voice. Shrugging, he admits, “There are good days and bad.” After a pause, he adds, more quietly, “And good nights and bad.” Zishu nods, as if in agreement, and Jing Beiyuan’s curiosity wins over. “What happened?”, he asks animatedly, gesturing to the state of their robes, then Wen Kexing’s hair. “You were gone almost two months, and--”

Zishu interrupts him, sounding incredulous. “Two months?” He casts an uncertain glance at his companion who looks equally stunned. “Oh.” Inhaling slowly, he adds, “Well, I’d prefer to tell the story only once, so where is that useless disciple of mine?” Grinning, Jing Beiyuan gestures again to the inner courtyard. “Training.” Zishu gives him a skeptical look, then gets to his feet. Ignoring the waiter who just arrived with their order, he heads for the inner courtyard. Jing Beiyuan tilts his head a fraction, looking at Wen Kexing, both smiling slightly. Then, from outside, “SHIFU!”, and a dull thud, followed by another muffled “Shishu!”.

Smiling into his teacup, Jing Beiyuan closes his eyes. Some stories seem to have a happy ending after all.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

there's no better place.

CHE ‘TAZA’ ROMERO.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ words: about 1.2k.

❝ a / n: as always, don't forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

© gif: mine.

You don't start to clean the club until the last member has left, picking up empty beers, ashtrays, shot glasses and any kind of trash, before putting the chairs over the tables to sweep and mop the floor. It doesn't take you more than ten minutes, being something strange since normally you spend more than an hour cleaning everything around you. But the crew is not in the mood to celebrate anything, only to stay together to weather the storm. You have heard them talk, even if you have tried to not stick your nose in their business. You care about them though, they're your family at the end of the day.

Taking one last look to make sure everything is on point, you grab your leather jacket to wear it while turning off the lights of the club. With your hand on the knob and facing the darkness inside, you close the door and lock it up. You turn around with the clear intention to head your car until someone calls your attention. You thought all the crew was gone, but you were wrong. Taza is sitting on the stairs, head bowed down, playing with something between his ringed fingers. You can see above his left shoulder what it is. His gun.

He hasn't been the same since Riz left and his brothers are so concerned about their loss that they haven't noticed his world is falling apart since that day. Anyone, but you. Taza has always been a ray of sunshine. Laughing, telling jokes, cheering everybody up. Now he is just darkness, serious gestures, monosyllables as responses. And you have never felt more worried for anybody than you feel for him. Biting briefly your bottom lip as you keep the keys inside a pocket, you guide your steps slowly towards him. One of your hands lands on his shoulder whilst sitting down, before wrapping your arms around his left arm. Leaning to his side, you press your lips on his cheek, watching him close his eyes for an instant as Taza proffers a quiet sigh.

“You've talked to me one hundred times about that hammock you've on your porch to see the stars, but you haven't shown it to me yet”. You whisper resting your chin on his shoulder, curving your lips with a sweet smile when Che tilts his head to face you.

You squeeze fondly his arm under your grip when he comes closer to kiss your forehead, caressing with the tip of his nose where his lips have been a second before. Not saying a word, he stands up keeping his gun to safety to offer you his hand and help you to get up. But he doesn't let it go until the two of you approximate his yellow and flawless bike. Putting on the helmets, you wait for him to sit first and turn on the engine to have your place behind him. You feel his abdomen tense up when your arms surround it, until you rest your chin again on his shoulder, looking at you through the rearview mirror to make sure you're well before starting to drive.

Taza doesn't have any rush on the way to the ranch, enjoying the road for the first time in a few months. But as soon as you glance at the place on the horizon, his body gets tense again. You have indeed noticed that lately, he has been staying in the club, instead of going home, and you're starting to believe that it has something to do with Riz and the memories he built there together. And now, you're regretting your petition.

Once the bike is parked and you can jump off from it, you stand closer until Taza does the same taking your helmet next to his to leave both hangings on the handlebar. You follow him to the inside, being surprised for the fact that it's the first time you put a foot in after knowing him for more than three years and having some kind of special connection since then. Imitating him, you take off your jacket to place it on a chair before walking behind him to the back porch —with an amazing view of the desert and the dark sky full of shiny stars.

Taza gently holds your hand, claiming your attention in holy silence, pulling you closer to lie on the hammock. As he places an arm behind your neck and the other over your abdomen, you lace your fingers with his. And neither could wish to be in a better place. He has always found comfort and support in you, hearing him talk during hours about everything and nothing. He has taught you a lot of things too, as his wisdom is incalculable. But sometimes he prefers to stay in silence, just appreciating how good is your company, your closeness, your touch.

Che is watching you sideways looking fascinated at the sky as if it was something new for you. He obtains peace in your innocent smile, calm in your breathing, and for a moment he wants with all his might to ask you to stay, to be eternal with him. The world is a better place with you by his side. But he can't. Taza can't say a single word until you speak first.

“What?” You whisper giggling, turning your head at him.

“Nothing”. He replies with the same low tone, showing you a fleeting sweet smirk.

“Nothing?” You repeat with feigned incredulity, raising both eyebrows as you lie on your side without loosening the tangling of your fingers. “You know I'm here, right?”

“Yeah, I ain't that old to not see you”.

“Pendejo”. You scoff funnily palming his chest, earning a short laugh from him. “You know what I mean, Che”.

As you pout at him, the smile on his lips appears again. Shyly, in a melting gesture that races your heart and makes it jump within your chest.

“I like how you say my name”. He mumbles before you can ask what again, lying on his side too and holding you closer.

Your noses are almost touching the other, you can practically breathe the air from his lung, and you are already lost on his eyes —as a lot of times before, but never having him looking at you likewise. There you find the encouragement to take a step forward and place your lips on his. None of you moves an inch from your bodies, more than closing your eyes, and assimilating what you just have done. But it feels like Taza has been waiting an eternity to kiss you when he finally tastes you by fitting his lips with yours. Gentle and careful gestures that turn into tender smooches, while your right hand travels his chest up through his shoulder, then his neck, till reaching his shaved jawline.

“I don't feel like myself anymore”. Che confesses, still being too close to your lips almost touching them, and not able to open his eyes. “But when I'm with you, everything is different. I feel alive again”.

“Then I'm gonna stay here forever”. You murmur, placing your arms around his neck to get rid of any kind of distance between the two of you.

You feel the relief taking over his anatomy after pronouncing that promise, knowing it's exactly what he wanted and what he needed, but he didn't dare to ask you for. Tossing a leg over his, Taza sinks his face into your chest, accommodating himself under your loving embrace to focus all his senses on your heartbeat as his demons begin to fade away.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @arveeee @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine @spideysimpossiblegirl @nocturnalherb16

[silversatoru]

hi!! me again, saw that you want some bnha requests and hoo boy do i fuckin got one for ya

im a hardcore member of the fuck bakugo 🖕🏼 squad but i also wanna fuck bakugo ya know?

therefore i would like to request a smut fic where bakugo is so painfully angry at the fact that he has a crush on the reader that he ends up getting caught stealing their panties and chaos ensues 😌

anyway love you bye ❤️

compulsion

touch-starved bakugou katsuki x f!reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, oral sex (male receiving), mild obsession, dom?reader, characters aged up

w/c: 1.9k

katsuki bakugo hates a lot things.

he hates hero training, he hates his annoying classmates, and he hates the fact that it rained today. he hates living in the UA dorms and he fucking hates the overly salted bowl of ramen he was forcing down his throat right now.

bakugo katsuki hates almost everything, but he doesn’t hate you — and he hates that doesn’t.

having a distaste for the world made things easier, because if he always assumed the worse than he’d never be disappointed. he’d gotten pretty far with that logic — that was up until you waltzed into his life and fucked it all up, sending his logic hurling out the window.

when he looked at you he didn’t feel the same hate that he felt for the world around him — in fact when he looked at you he felt a disgusting urge of optimism. he liked the way your hair fell around your shoulders, the way your lips curled when you smiled, and the way your skirt rode up your thighs. he didn’t hate anything about you and that’s what he hated most.

see ya later, katsuki! you’d called to him after hero training today, your round glossy lips pronouncing his name in a way that made his heart flicker and his blood boil over. why did everything about you have to be so fucking perfect? he couldn’t find a single flaw on your annoyingly pristine body no matter how hard he searched for one.

your voice consumed his mind — everything you said to him today replaying on repeat at the center stage of his brain:

come eat lunch with us, katsuki!

hey katsuki, did you finish the math homework? number seven makes like- no fucking sense.

have you seen those chips i like, katsuki? i swear if denki ate them all again i’m gonna kill him

your voice was precious, a terribly sensual melody in his sullen ears. and the way you clung to the ends of your words for just a little too long was repulsively adorable too.

katsuki needed something, anything, to get you off his mind. sitting here and daydreaming about you was making him irate with himself — forcing intrusively irrational thoughts through his thick head. something, anything, he needed to stop thinking about you.

he tossed what was left of his shitty ramen into the trash can and exited the kitchen. the common area was filled with students right now, you included, and it was much too crowded and annoying for his liking. you were sitting with hanta, laughing at some shitty fucking joke he was spouting off.

not that he enjoyed watching that lanky scotch-tape dispenser flirt with you — but it was keeping you busy. your dorm room would be empty right now, wouldn’t it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

katsuki’s not sure how he ended up here, seething with anger and digging fervently through your drawer of panties. surely you wouldn’t mind if he took just one pair, right? you have to understand that he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t absolutely need them. he wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t make him so fucking angry — this is your fault, not his. 

he lifted the lacy material closer to his face for further inspection, unable to prevent his mind from wandering to how it would look wrapped around your body. fuck, they even smelled good — not that he was smelling them intentionally or anything, don't get the wrong idea. he just so happened to get close enough that the soft aroma of cherry blossom fabric softener wafted into his nostrils.

simmering with anger and foggy with unwanted lust, katsuki pocketed the panties for later and turned back towards the door — the same door that you were now standing in front of with immense confusion in your eyes. fuck. 

“uh... hey katsuki, whatcha doin?” you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, cocking your head to the side. 

“i- uh- it’s fucking none of your business,” he snarled at you, face flushing as he tried to figure out how long you’ve been standing there and how much you saw.

“you’re in my room dude, it’s totally my business,” you raised an eyebrow at him, “and that pair of panties you took is one of my favorites, maybe you could pocket one of the uglier pairs?”

“god, fucking dumbass, this is your fault! i wouldn’t be here right now if you weren’t so fucking infuriating,” his face was so angry and flushed you could have sworn there was steam sizzling off his skin.

“me? it’s my fault you’re standing in my room with a pair of my underwear in your pocket and an obvious boner in your pants?”

katsuki grimaced, faltering for just a second as he awkwardly shifted his sweatshirt and pulled it down to cover his swollen erection, “yeah shithead, that’s what i just said. weren’t you fucking listening?”

“this is horribly desperate, katsuki, you could have just asked. i’m more than willing to help you out with this,” you stepped forward and began to shorten the distance between the two of you.

“willing to help me? are you insane? i don’t need your fucking help!” he tried to retaliate, but you were already inches from him, reaching down and dragging a hard palm over the lump in his jeans.

“quit screaming like a lunatic and let me help you, i know this is what you think about,” you pressed harder and gave him an icy stare, the boy using everything in his power not to crumble under your touch.

he’d never been touched like this by anyone, and he was so caught off guard by your sudden movements that he simply stared back at you, frozen in place. no arguments, no insults, no deflective blaming — his brain could barely compute his own name now that your hand was prodding at his bulge.

“that’s what i thought,” you cracked a small smile, “poor katsuki, always pushing everyone away and never getting any action. come sit down”.

katsuki failed to wrap his brain around the current events, wondering how his failed attempt at stealing a pair of panties had led to him sitting on the edge of your bed while you stripped him of his trousers. you were sinking to your knees now, head perfectly level with his cock that was standing flush against his abdomen.

he almost flinched when you reached out and brushed your delicate fingers over the red, swollen head of his dick. his cheeks were flushed with a deep red, and he wanted nothing more than to yell you, to tell you how much of a freak you were. but he didn’t, because as much as he hated to admit it, your touch was the best thing he’d ever felt.

your fingers were wrapped around his shaft now, pumping slow strokes as you warmed him up. he hissed and squirmed under your brand new touch — eyes squeezing shut and hands grabbing fistfuls of your comforter. katsuki had touched himself plenty of times, most of them while thinking of you, but your hand felt so much better than his ever did.

“you’ve never been touched like this, have you?” you pouted up at him, your fingers squeezing a little tighter and pumping a little faster, “poor baby”.

“i- fuck- ah,” he choked out a pitiful cluster of sounds that didn’t actually form any words but still gave you the answer to your question.

you were terribly amused, the typically angry boy was a twitching mess under your touch and you’d barely even started yet. you could only imagine how quickly he’d melt when your lips were around his cock — you were dying to find out.

you leaned forward and began slowly flicking your tongue over the puffy tip, still pumping the shaft with one of your hands. katsuki let out strings of sounds that could only be described as mewls and whimpers, his thighs shaking and his knuckles turning white. poor poor baby, you continued to think, i’m gonna make you feel better than you ever have before.

your head dipped low, the first few inches of his cock sliding across your tongue and into the back of your mouth. the blonde boy whined and bucked his hips, his eyes shooting open at the sudden burst of hot, wet pleasure.

“hng- fuck- fucking sh-shit,” his curses came out as pitiful gasps for air as he stared down at you with wide eyes.

you gradually took more and more of his length into the depths of your throat — his extensive length, by the way. for someone so blessed with such a big, pretty cock, you couldn’t believe he didn’t put it to use more often.

katsuki was cussing you out like it was his job, but each word was accompanied by a gasp or a humiliating whimper. he was so fucking embarrassed, but he felt much too good to care right now. your wet, sticky mouth was enveloping his cock in the most perfect way, jolts of euphoria spiking through his veins and fogging his head.

there was a pressure quickly building in his stomach, a tight wam feeling that signified he was going to come all too soon. but of course you expected this — honestly he’d lasted a few minutes longer than you thought he would.

when his orgasm finally racked through him, his entire body twitched and convulsed, his hips bucking wildly as strings of white liquid sprung from his cock and lined the walls of your tight throat. you milked every drop of cum from him, swallowing it down and then pulling your head back. as much as you wanted to push him and overstimulate him you decided to play nice for his first time.

“so good, katsuki. did you like that?”

his shoulders caved in and his head hung low as he finally came down from his high — the realization of all of the transpiring events finally catching up to him. he mumbled the quietest: yeah, it felt fucking good in response to your question, but refused to meet your eyes.

“we could do this more often, what you think?” you reached up and placed your hand under his chin, coaxing him to look at you.

“fuck- fine, yeah whatever, but don’t fucking tell anyone about this,” he growled, his angry eyes and twisted eyebrows finally meeting yours.

“of course,” you smiled, standing and tossing him his pants to put back on, “i just came here to grab a sweatshirt, so i better go before anyone comes looking for me. i’ll come find you later though, promise”.

and with that you were walking through the door, wiping your sticky lips on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and heading for the elevators. katsuki sat on the edge of your bed for a few minutes longer, mind blown by the curves of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

katsuki didn’t hate you before, and he really doesn’t hate you now, but he’s coming to terms with it this time. letting his walls down for you doesn’t sound all that bad if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this.