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arlertwhore · 3 days

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pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you win the championship and paige shows you how proud she is.

warnings: smut, spitting, strap, thigh worship, clit play, size kink, sort of breeding kink, paige is horrendously down bad 🔥😝

word count: 2.7k

author note: so lazy with this one; i just rly liked the request idea as a former volleyball player :D!

Paige Bueckers, the star basketball player at your school UConn & also your girlfriend, and you merely had any time to see each-other due to the demanding nature of your athletic lives. You missed her dearly. The separation had led to some desperate late nights of falling asleep on facetime, sending one and other awful sappy texts throughout the day, and even FaceTime sex, a whole new low for you both. You hated living this way, but as two athletes who had thankfully and unfortunately fallen in-love, you had no other choice than to reap you had sowed. The basketball season hadn't even ended when the volleyball season began in earnest, each moment passing in a blur of practices and matches. Your schedules were back-to-back, the end of one season blending into the beginning of the next, and you didn't have a chance to see each-other until now, just as the volleyball season was coming to end, with UConn at the NCAA Women's Volleyball Championship, the game you had invited her to. Your nerves were soaring. You had played and beaten all these other teams relentlessly over the past month, but knowing it all rode on this, while your overly-competitive and patriotic husky girlfriend watched from the crowd, made the pressure even more intense. As your girlfriend always said, "You have to feel the noise." The gymnasium roared with the intensity of a thousand heartbeats, the sound of sneakers squeaking on polished wood blending with the rhythmic chanting of "Let's go, Huskies!" The scoreboard flashed 24-23. One more point, and UConn would be the champions. You never recalled Paige or her friends being volleyball fans, but they were at the literal edge of their seats from your peripheral vision as you tried to stay focused on the huddle, mind racing. "Alright, girls, this is it. One point stands between us and victory. We need to be sharp, focused, and give it everything we've got. Remember the training, remember why we're here." said Coach, his voice, though calm, carrying the weight of the moment. You glanced around at your teammates, their faces a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Your own heart pounded like a drum in your chest - the pressure, the responsibility, but also the exhilaration of the challenge. As you all broke the huddle, you didn't miss the resolve in everyone’s eyes. The team took their positions, and you moved to your spot at the front left, just before Paige, on the sidelines. You glanced over at her, eyes a mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but she met your gaze with faith in her eyes as she clapped her hands together enthusiastically, encouraging, "You got this, baby." warmly and lovingly. You sighed deeply, pointing to Paige as you locked eyes with her, conveying your commitment. Despite the times you had to prioritize other things over your relationship, you were determined to make it right and fulfill your promises to her by obtaining the game-winner point. The setter, Jessie, gave you a nod, her expression steely and confident. When the whistle blew, and the opposing team served, the ball sailed over the net, a blur of motion. Sara, the libero, dove expertly, digging the ball out with a perfect pass to Jessie. The ball floated high, a beacon of hope in the air, and Jessie’s hands moved with practiced precision, setting the ball up perfectly. Time seemed to slow down as you took the approach. Three quick steps, a deep breath, and then you were airborne. The gym seemed to hold its breath with you. Your eyes locked onto the ball, and in that split second, all the hours of practice, all the sweat and hard work, crystallized into this one moment. You brought your striking arm back, muscles coiling like a spring, and then snapped forward with all the force you could ever muster.

The sound of the spike echoed through the gym, a sharp crack like a lightning strike. The ball rocketed over the net, angling hard toward the far corner of the court. The opposing blockers, despite their best efforts, were a split second too slow. Time resumed its normal pace as the ball hit the floor with a resounding thud, just inside the line. The referee’s whistle blew, signaling the point and the win. For a heartbeat, there was silence, the realization settling in. And then, the gym exploded into cheers, a wave of sound that crashed over it. Your teammates swarmed you, their joy infectious, and you jumped, shouted, and hugged until you collapsed onto the floor, eyes shut. Reclined on the court, inundated by the applause and the profoundness of the moment, a tender touch on your shoulder prompted your eyes to flutter open, tears welling up. "Hey," she murmured softly, brushing a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your forehead, and you found yourself unable to hold back your deeper sobs. Opening your eyes, Paige knelt beside you, her beautiful face everything you needed to cap off a perfect night. She had this way of picking you up, not just physically, even though she does, but emotionally too, almost as if she always knew when you needed that reassurance. Paige didn't say more. Understanding the depth of your feelings, she simply held you close. As tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the shouts of celebration around you, you felt an overwhelming gratitude for her unwavering presence. Looking into each other's eyes, you couldn't help but smile. Paige always tried to lighten your mood, no matter how serious the situation. She tapped your cheek in a playful slap. "Lighten up, buttercup," she teased, "You just won the fuckin' championship and you out here cryin'?" You chuckled softly, cupping her face gently. "You're a bigger crybaby, Goldilocks." You know that moment, where everything else fades away and it's just the two of you? Yeah. Disregarding your family-friendly contracts, you leaned in and kissed your girlfriend the way you'd been longing to for ages. Despite the potential fallout from managers and anyone else, it felt incredible to feel her lips moving against yours in that way that always left you breathless. Her big, comforting hands enveloping you, rubbing the small of your back. You broke away, saying softly, "Let's go home." ----------- Though Paige was blonde and not the sharpest, it didn't take a genius to know what you meant by "Let's Go Home." You guys barely make it inside before she's turned you around against the apartment door, eagerly trying to yank your shorts off and get a taste of what she saw over the phone the previous weekend. You turn, gently pushing her head away. "No!" you insist. Like a bewildered puppy, she looks at you with confusion, panting. "I-... Is that not why you wanted to come ho-" "I have to shower, Paige, you're gross," you say firmly. She rolls her eyes, tugging at your shorts again, all the while planting soft kisses up your thick volleyball-girl thighs, really trying to entice you. "Pleaseee, baby," she begs, lips softly sucking a hickey on the front skin of your right thigh, leaving a trail of gentle kisses as her mouth inches closer to your pussy, her hands caressing your ass eagerly.

"I don't care. You know I don't," she tries to reason, her voice muffled against your clothed cunt, desperate to taste you. But you stand firm, looking down at her kneeling before you.

You push her forehead back with your fingers, before gripping her chin gently in a smooth motion. "You're such a desperate little slut..." you cooed, voice ruling.

Paige, the usual tough guy is photographable when she sticks out her tongue obediently, entranced, and you grant her request, spitting directly into her mouth and gently closing her jaw to ensure she swallows it before trailing off.

She closes her eyes, wanting to say strong. It truly does take all of her restraint not to tackle you and kiss you senseless because damn, it was so hot when you dominated her like that. She's so weak in the knees after the moment that she stays there until you finish your shower.

Before meeting you, she was used to being in control, but you always stripped her of her resolve. It left her a trembling soaking wet mess as she trudged toward the bedroom, where she found you naked on the bed, your hair wet and your body glistening, even wetter. She loomed in the doorframe, unable to tear her gaze away, captivated by the sight of you.

"Oh fuck, baby," she bellowed, "Shit, I- You're so fucking gorgeous, I-"

"Shut up, Paige," you interrupted, then spread your legs invitingly, your sparkling wet pussy on display for her eyes that lit up like a supernova. "You know, words are cheap. Show me. I want to feel it," you whispered, the sound of your voice like a siren, drawing her closer, your head tilted with a determined gaze.

She sauntered up to the bed. It was as if you blinked, and suddenly Paige was partially naked, still clad in her boxers. Her lips came to yours first, tongues intertwining hungrily, and you eagerly share your saliva, having left her mouth dry with your words.

As she drips what you gave her down onto your cunt, the trickle of saliva tickles you, sending shivers through your body and making your toes curl with anticipation.

"You look so hot when you're fucking me, babe," you tease her, and she lets out an impatient groan, lifting your body and placing your legs over her shoulders.

Her long fingers teasing up and down your slit elicit a velvety low whine from you, a sound that's more a reflex than a conscious choice, knowing it drives her crazy.

"Hold them," she murmurs, her breath warm against the back of your ankle. Lost in bliss for a moment, you don't comply, relishing in the way her fingers touch your clit like its her own body.

The stroke of her fingers always begins with a feather-light touch, barely grazing the surface like she's tracing delicate paths mapping constellations in the night sky.

Then, the tempo builds gradually, each stroke gaining confidence and purpose, lingering momentarily in certain spots where her touch elicits a buck or arch of your back. She stops abruptly, smacking the side of your ass-cheek lightly.

"I said, hold 'em, baby," she insists sternly, and you realize she's motioning to your ankles.

Paige wants you to hold them. She's usually a gentleman and does it herself, but you suppose you've riled her up too much today. Paige steps away from the bed and retrieves a box hidden underneath it.

Expecting something wild like restraints, you watch as it lands on the bed, revealing it's actually a package from a toy website. When she pulls it out of its wrapping, your eyes widen, and you try to shift to get a better look, but she stops you and says firmly, "Up. I didn't say you could drop 'em." Is she crazy? You think to yourself.

"You're out of your mind, Paige! What are you doing with that?" You're more the old-fashioned girl.

More 'hands-on'. And you've also NEVER had anything of this size in you, so you're rightfully scared, but Paige's hand presses you back down by your stomach and she insists, "You'll like it." As she fits it onto herself, she adds, "We both will. I got it for tonight since I knew you'd win, champ." That flatters you enough into relaxing briefly, but when you feel Paige atop you again, fear makes you instinctively want to shut your legs.

She sighs, "Stop playing with me," she chides gently, and you whimper, "I'm scared."

She smiles softly. Paige leans down and kisses you tenderly, then guides your hands to your ankles again as she reassures, "It'll hurt for a second. But after, I'll make you feel so good you won't even think about it." You nod, trusting her.

“Plus... with how wet you are, I should just-" the hum of a buzz fills the air as she presses the girthy length against your cunt, her bottom lip curling inward as she ruts forward. "Yeah, fuck.. I should slip right in there, right, ma?" she's asking for your permission now, but the way her abs clench, her hair tousles, and her face contorts... you don't hesitate or think about yourself.

"Put it in, Paige, please," you urge. With that, she starts, the thick tip barely penetrating your first layer before you're clawing at your own ankles, gasping for breath as Paige watches with focused intensity, her cheeks hollowed. The entrancement in her blue eyes as she watches you take her in is intoxicating, and you moan in response. "Aww, yeah baby... I know it's big, I know," she murmurs.

"I just want to bury my cock in you, okay baby?" she opines delicately. "Okay.. Mkayy, just- oh!" the snap of her hips sends your body rocking backward, head against the headboard, a pillow thankfully cushioning the impact. "You okay? I'm not breakin' ya?" she inquires gently, but even if she is, you refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing so. However, it's evident—the burn of the stretch makes tears prickle your eyes, and she can see them.

Yet, she wants you to lie so she has a reason to continue fucking you senseless. "M' fine," you fib, and Paige throws her head back, thrusting again with a grunt, this time fully entering you with a groan of satisfaction following. She thinks aloud. "So tight, baby... nobody else fucks you like this, I love it." You look down and realize a small vibrating device is pressed against her clit, and you feel a thrill knowing she can feel its sensations, basically meaning she can feel you. "Is my pussy good?" you ask teasingly, and she knows you're only trying to rile her up, to get her to obliterate you, so, she resorts to her only solution and turns you over. She fucks you from behind, gripping your hair, and the backwards angle in which her cock fucks into you has you arching your back and throwing it back, despite the sting everytime you guys meet each other's thrusts at the same time. "Keep throwin' it like that baby, fuck," she moaned. Each time your ass met her hips, the slam echoed loud, and you gripped the sheets, clinging onto your life as she placed her hand on your ass, the other into your back, holding you down as she had her way with you. "You look so sexy when you take me, babe," she coos softly, and you gasp.

"I'm gonna cum, P," on the verge of completely letting go. "I-.. me too, baby. This pussy makes me want to cum so hard," Gazing at her over your shoulder and sending her into overdrive, you utter, "Do it, P." through lidded eyes. "Cum in me, mommy, I want your-" She speeds up, the nearly inhuman quickness sending precum oozing out of you as you whined desperately. "You want my what, baby, my what? Tell me, ma, lemme hear it. Wanna give it to your pretty pussy." "I want your babies, Paige, please." Her thrusts became erratic, each one driving deeper and faster. Your body tensed, teetering on the edge. “Yes, Paige, please,” you begged, feeling the pressure build to an unbearable peak. With a final powerful thrust, you both shattered. Your vision blurred as waves of pleasure surged through you, your muscles contracting uncontrollably. Paige let out a guttural moan, her grip on your ass and back tightening as she came hard, the intensity of it all leaving the both of you trembling and breathless, clinging to each-other in the aftermath. Paige was so right. You did like it. If this was just for one win, a big one, then imagine the next win, the bigger one. MASTERLIST

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thebibliosphere · 20 hours

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Am I reading this right? You have been beating yourself up for not 'working more' and not 'doing enough', but, the mere act of being AT YOUR DESK is extremely painful? Sitting at your work station, just SITTING THERE, caused you PHYSICAL PAIN, but you were still under the impression that you should be able to just 'power through that' to do, what? How much more are you expecting out of yourself? A book a month? Its not like you've STOPPED WORKING. What time table were you holding yourself to???

Here's the thing, my body has always hurt.

Even when I was a child, I was in a lot of pain that was dismissed as either "growing pains" despite the fact that I never got past 5 feet tall at the age of 11 or "attention seeking." So, I learned to stop talking about it. (The trick is now getting me to shut up about it.)

And for most of my teens and twenties, the pain didn't really stop me too much. It was bad, and it sucked, but for the longest time, everyone kept telling me that "everyone" felt that way, so I just sort of learned to power through and hide it under the assumption that "everyone" feels this way.

Well, turns out that was a mistake because my body hit its breaking point, and what might have been a mild genetic disability that could have flown under the radar is now a severe one that greatly impacts my daily life to the point where sitting at my desk causes me pain (because everything causes me pain).

Couple that with some new-age religious trauma about willpower, positive thinking, and whatever the fuck else my parents thought I was capable of as an 'indigo starseed' and the fact that I was trained to mask my ADHD by being a hyper-competent workaholic-- I really don't know what a healthy baseline is.

(I mean, heck, I wrote the first book of Hunger Pangs while literally dying. I assumed it would be edited and published posthumously. Jokes on me because now I've got to edit the rest of the fucking thing.)

I didn't, obviously, and ever since then, I've been trying to learn what a healthy baseline looks like for me post-recovery, and I think I'm doing quite well at it and enforcing my boundaries when people ask too much of me.

But none of that makes up for the shrieking frustration I feel that I can't do the things I want.

I want to be creative and do fun things, but I can't because my body won't let me. I want to write more, but I can't because I'm swimming in brain fog most of the time. Yes it hurts to sit at my desk, but I also need to earn money so the financial burden of everything isn't solely on my partner. (Something which he argues I shouldn't even be worrying about right now, but it's hard not to worry as I watch him work himself to the bone taking care of everything because I can't.)

I promise you, I'm not hustling my ass into an early grave. There is, in fact, zero hustle about how I work. I am very, very slow these days compared to how I used to be. There's no timetable for one thing. I get done what I get done, and that's it.

I'm just perpetually frustrated that my hyperactive brain is trapped in a malfunctioning meat suit. And my blog is where I talk about it and work through my emotions because, well, that's what I've always done long before Tumblr was even a thing. It just so happens now I've got an audience.

#chronic health tag #personal

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felassan · 2 days

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From Game Informer:

Solas plays an important role in the game as a central figure and significant character, but the game is not about Solas, hence the title change

Rather than focusing on a specific individual, the focus and centerpiece of the game is Rook's team, stopping the end of the world with this group of specialists

"I think you could argue [these companions] are the best the franchise has ever seen". We will have the opportunity to interact with them in a way that both shapes their story and also influences the main story, including having the opportunity to impact their fate

"Arguably, this game has kind of, in a way, been called Dreadwolf to some degree since its earlier days"

Excerpt:

"When I ask about Solas' role in the story after I learn his namesake is no longer in the game title, Darrah says Veilguard is still taking the Elven God's narrative in a good direction. He adds, "It allows us to, hopefully, give a good conclusion to all the varied attitudes toward Solas that are going to be coming from people who love Solas, who agree with Solas, who hate Solas, people who want to kick Solas off of a building – I think that we give you the opportunity to bring that to a close, but then tell a greater story about The Veilguard and about the world as a whole." Talking to Epler, I learn more about how Solas isn't exactly the big bad I expected before seeing the opening hours of Veilguard. There's a lot more nuance to everyone's favorite bald elf. "The most interesting villains to myself, and honestly most people, are not just straight up, 'I want to end the world.' To them, they are the heroes of the story, and Solas is no exception," Epler tells me. "Solas always feels that he is a tragic hero but a hero nonetheless, so he's coming into this believing firmly that what he did, that which you stopped him from doing, was the right thing – that you made a mistake. But now he's trapped and can't reach out and actively affect [Thedas], so he needs to work with you. "That allows us to provide a lot of nuance to that relationship," Epler says."

Solas is literally trapped in the Fade after the game's prologue. Rook and co stop his attempt to destroy the Veil. Rook passes out and wakes up in a dream-like landscape to Solas' voice. He explains that he was trying to move Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to a new prison because the old one wasn't containing them properly anymore. The two blighted gods are now free and roaming Thedas. Rook has to stop them, but it seems that they will have to work with Solas ("or at least listen to his guidance and advice") to do so

Excerpt:

""So one of the principles we took to when we were building the story of The Veilguard early on was we wanted the beginning of the game to feel like the final chapter of an earlier story and you're coming in right at the end, you're coming in as if you've been chasing Solas – the [Solas at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition's Trespasser DLC] who said he was going to end the world and tear down the Veil," Epler adds. Epler says players will see early on (and as the narrative develops across Veilguard) that Solas sees much of himself in you, the player-controlled Rook, especially "the parts that maybe he doesn't like to face." As a result, there's an interesting push and pull between Solas and Rook. He says players can define the relationship between these two characters with their choices in dialogue. "You can continue to be suspicious and hostile towards him, or you can start to see him and find that common ground, that connection between the two of you, and really develop a different relationship over the course of the story," Epler says."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #solas #video games #long post #longpost

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moumouton4 · 1 day

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Their Reactions To Having An Erection Next To You || One Piece characters x (fem!)reader

A/n : Literally had this thought after thinking Luffy is so carefree he would not mind about having it pressed against you 🤭

Warnings : no mention of gender for reader in the parts in green, erection, grinding, cream pie, morning wood, semi-exhibitionism, mention of breast play, implied oral male receiver, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 2531

Roronoa Zoro :

He didn’t even think twice before sliding into your shared bed after his intense training session, and pulling you in his embrace. His skin was still warm from the steamy shower he had just taken, his hair still slightly wet. He groaned when he tried to pull you even closer, his muscles being sore with all the training he set himself for, but he couldn't care less if it meant having you pressed against him. You let himself do his thing, focusing your attention back to the map you were reading. Suddenly you felt him pull back, leaving the cool air hit your back. But at the same time, his face that was buried against your neck felt hotter, “Zor-” you began but he interrupted you, “Don’t worry it’s… fine,” his voice was hoarse. Being the tease you were you decided to push your hips back again, but his hands flew to your hips preventing you from grinding against his hard cock. Wanting to prevent any confusion he added, “You're grafting… if you do that I'm telling you, you won't do anything with that map." It only made you smirk wider, “And what if I don't want to ?” you teased. “Well then,” he took the map from your hand before setting it nearby. This time he didn't hesitate to press himself against you, as he came to stand between your legs, letting you feel his throbbing erection on your center. He didn't want you to feel pressured, but now if you're the one proposing, that's an entirely different matter.

Monkey D. Luffy :

Is he even aware of social norms ? You always wondered when his arms stretched inhumanely to your waist before pulling you against him. You sat gently on top of him, just to be surprised when you felt his erection beneath you. He saw your surprised expression but said nothing, as usual a big smile was drawn on his lips. “Luffy ?” you whispered. “Yeah ?” his attention was solely on you, as his face inched closer to yours. “You know that you are…” you let your words hang as you gave a subtle grind on his lap to emphasize your words. His hands instinctively gripped your hips “Stiff and rigid ? I know but it doesn’t matter right ? You’ve felt it lots of times before.” You chuckled at his carefree but genuine answer. You set your head on his shoulder, your own arms hugging his muscular torso. The same would happen at any point of the day or the night. In the morning he didn’t mind his morning wood pressing with insistence against your ass. In the evening while celebrating with god knows who you guys helped free their kingdom from oppression. And even sometimes during dinners. He stayed true to himself, never ever being bothered or flustered by his throbbing cock pressing against you, as if looking for an entry. Even if the fabric of his shorts was pretty thin and whoever’s eyes landed there while he was hard could most likely see its outline, he didn’t care a bit, “What ? It’s not like I can control it,” he would shrug, his signature smile never leaving his lips, just like you would never his lap in those situations.

Sir Crocodile :

It was during one of the sumptuous galas, Crocodile would organize in his casino. Where only the elite of the Alabastian people would be able to come - and spend their money. Obviously those nights he would be idolized like a king, the one he thought he already was for those pathetic people. And each step the King took, parading in the colossal room, his Queen would be at his arm, like the finest accessory of his expensive wardrobe. Everyone had his eyes on you, well, until your husband’s eyes would throw daggers at them for eying his precious partner in crime. Tonight, you were adorned in one of those overpriced dresses, he would let on your bed. Its emerald green color coincided perfectly with the heavy jewels that would soon adorn your body. Crocodile was never able to keep her eyes or hands off you. Even when big bank bosses talked business with him, even when other women tried to win him praise, his gaze never left you for more than 1 minute. Very often, shortly after seeing you in your new outfit, desire would descend into his crotch, pressing insistently into his black velvet suit, a groan rumbling in his throat. It was clear that he wanted you. He grabbed your hand and placed it discreetly where he needed it most, “Feel this, mmh ? How about we go there and you show me how good you feel ?” You would feel the warmth emanating from his throbbing flesh as he spoke. Then he would cut short the discussion with whoever he was talking to and lead you down a small corridor. He wasted no time in pulling you along with him. in a spare room, where he liked to fuck you when he wanted to change your surrounding. Here he could bang the hell out of you and then emerge as if nothing had happened, slicking his hair back, before returning to his business discussions. You would come back with a light blush from the activity and hair that you had combed back in a hurry. When you joined him at the table, a smirk played on his lips, only he knew that his cum was there, nestled deep inside you, where he had buried it not even 10 minutes before. And that thought alone was enough to make him feel his clothes tighten around his cock.

Smoker :

As the first lights of the sun filtered through the curtains, his eyes fluttered open. On his face, relaxed with sleep, a smile took shape as his eyes rested on your smaller form, lying there between his legs, your head resting comfortably on his chest. With a delicate flick of his wrist, he brought his hand up to your face, pushing a few unruly strands from your face, while his other hand stroked your naked back. Needless to say, last night was... eventful. He could almost still feel his body humming with the remnants of your shared orgasms. The mere thought of it brought a light blush on his face. You shifted awake, as if feeling his gaze on you. That's when he became aware of the heat between his legs. Without clothes, his cock was snuggly pressed against your intimacy, feeling your own heat emanating from it. The blush on his face deepened as he felt it already throb with need. Cautiously he tried to gently detangle you from between his legs. “Smoker-” “Shhh,” he shushed you. Though you tightened your legs behind his back preventing him from moving any further away from you. You were now very much aware of the bulge pulsing against your glistening pussy. At this point he knows you know and he is so embarrassed at that. One of his arms comes back up to his face as he hides his face in the pit of his elbow, “You’ll be the end of me woman,” he sighed with pleasure. “But you like it, don’t you ?” You words had him peeking at you above his elbow “For that,” he started pressing himself snuggly against you again, his pre cum adding to the stickiness between you, “I’m guilty as charged.”

Portgas D. Ace :

You were currently in the kingdom of Alabasta. You knew your boyfriend was one to always get boners in the worst situations, here was one of them. You were surrounded by the crew of his younger brother, in the middle of the desert. As you all were sitting there in the shadow of a huge stone, thinking about a way to find some water, you felt him shift behind you, his muscles flexing with each of his movements and before you knew it, you had his big hard erection pressed against your back. Your eyes widened, head turning towards him, your lips mouthing a silent, “Now ?” But he didn’t bother being discreet as he answered out loud, “What ? Don’t act all surprised now, you know how he gets. And those clothes aren’t helping at all,” his fingers running delicately over the fabric of your semi-sheer Alabastian skirt. Of course all heads wiped your way, first thinking your fire boy was going to give a solution to your urging problem, but his mind was currently on another matter. He would clearly be capable of subtly grinding behind you to alleviate some of the tension in his groin. You guys didn’t have water yet, but he had a plan to have you all to himself later that night.

Vinsmoke Sanji :

You are walking through the marketplace, the sun is high in the sky. Everything smells so fresh and looks so good. You were carefully choosing some spice at a stand as opposed to the one from which he returns with fresh fish in his bag. As he walks up to you, he can’t help but look appreciatively at your figure. The open-back shirt you choose showcases your soft skin, tanned by all your time on board of the Thousand Sunny. His eyes then trails down to the curve of your hip, where stretches the thin fabric of your skirt. He can already feel the blood pooling in his nose. But the last straw is when the wind gently ruffles the bottom of it, revealing a bit of the skin of your thighs. Okay now he is definitely feeling the blood pooling somewhere else. And you turning around to him doesn’t help in any ways, as his eyes land on the top of your breasts, getting even wider when he notices that the low cut uncovered the hickey he left there the night before. He almost drops his bags as his hands fly to his nose, where the blood has now started to flow. “Sanji ? You alright my love ?” you ask worried. And he is struggling to pull his gaze away from your enticing curves. But at last his eyes meet yours as he nods slowly “Y-yeah of course Y/n-peaaach !” though his expression gets even more flustered as he adds “J-just… can you walk in front of me for a little time please,” he asks. You immediately understand but can’t help your eyes from wandering down, to the pretty large bulge straining in his tight black pants. “Hey ! Don’t st-stare at it like that !!” he exclaimed, but you definitely saw it twitch, making you chuckle. As you picked up the pace he did the same “Wait !” he grabbed your shoulder pulling you into him, desperately trying to hide his tented pants to the other customers. You chuckled, feeling his hardness pressing against your lower back, “What about I give you a hand before you get back to cooking… or rather a mouth mmh ?” But you didn’t even hear his answer as another wave of blood propelled him to the sky, that was surely his way of accepting your proposal.

Charlotte Katakuri :

Your boyfriend was guarding some doors when you came up to him. To say the least he was one shy boy, but yet very loving. When he saw the frilly dress you were wearing, a blush creeped on his cheeks, successfully hidden by his scarf, “This one really looks good on you,” he muttered with a low voice. His eyes swept across your figure until they landed on your voluptuous curves. He stifled a groan, gosh he loved those tits of yours. And for a second he wished he could whisk you away in a nearby empty room to suck on those beautiful nipples that turned him on so much. His mind was really going to places because the next thing that happened when his gaze set back on yours, was that you were looking up at him like usual but pretty much down towards his- “Hey ! Y/n !” he blushed, he really doesn’t want you to know. if you’re going at it he says he doesn’t mind even though he blushes furiously as you eyes his erecting member. His hands flying in front of his tight fitting jeans to hide the growing bulge. Seeing him getting an erection when you guys were about to go at it was something that already flustered him enough, but here when it wasn't supposed to happen, not even behind closed doors. He felt cursed. He was this close to untie his scarf and wrap it around his hips instead. Gosh he was embarrassed. He froze when he saw you getting closer, at this point his body was burning to touch you. Your hand reached up, he bent down a little to help you, then you pulled his scarf a little, revealing the harsh red hue on his cheek, before planting a kiss on his kips. He kissed back, soft yet demanding. “You think you can keep him like this until the end of your shift ?” you murmured for him only to hear. "If you stay here, I might not even be able to wait until the end of my shift,” his hand grazed your hips as he gently pushed you towards the corridor, “Go ahead and wait for me there. I’ll join you in a bit, mmh ?” He spent the little shift time he had facing the door so that no one would see his erection, using only his Aki to foresee the future, in case something were to happen.

Sabo :

You were a bit late for the meeting with the other revolutionaries. At this point not a single seat was left empty for you because some people came unannounced to be part of it. Sabo, always the caring boyfriend discreetly gestured to you to come close. You did and once you were in front of him he pulled you on his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you securely against his chest. And at this point he was focused on what Dragon was saying, he really thought he would be capable of staying focused even when he had you so close to him. It’s not like he was that needy now, was he ? Well his cock seemed to think otherwise as it started to itch with arousal. Before he knew it, his cock swelled under your ass and his grip on your wait tightened. Obviously you felt it and when you looked back at him with a mischievous smile, trying your best not to chuckle, he wiggled his eyebrows at you. But Dragon saw, “Do you have something to add Sabo ?” your head whipped towards your leader while Sabo’s eyes snapped back up, he choked on his spit, “N- khff no, nothing,” his face was now marked with a deep blush. He wanted one thing : bury his face in your neck to stop seeing all those eyes on him. But despite this his cock remained painfully hard. You stayed here sometimes wiggling your hips only to feel him stiffen further as a quiet hiss passed between his lips. It was pretty obvious that you guys would be the last ones getting out of this room.

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pulisicsgirl · 22 hours

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in my hour of need - mason mount

summary: eight months after the end of their relationship, Y/N and Mason find themselves at the same event—a charity gala—and the night’s events leave them both unsure of where they stand with each other

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 8.4k

warnings/tags: inappropriate joke is made about the reader, angst, self-doubt, exes-to-lovers, hurt/comfort (hee hee hee), ends with fluff of course don’t worry, lots of crying involved along the way

requested: no

based off of this concept from @mountttmase and @saltyheartnightmare

A/N: I’m so excited to finally have a fic ready to post for y’all again!!! I’ve literally been working on this one for the last three months, so it’s definitely a relief to put it out there! This is set during the TFSL gala that Mason attended back at the beginning of March, so some things might be a bit”outdated” by now… I hope yall enjoy!!!

Seeing Mason tonight had been more difficult than you had anticipated.

Eight months had passed since the fairly amicable breakup between the two of you. Things had ended on fairly good terms, but it had been the little things that built up that had led to the end of your relationship. Between Mason’s injury along with the situation at United and new, huge career opportunities that had arisen for you in the last year, the two of you seemed to be in completely different places in your lives. It seemed like you barely saw each other for a few minutes after you woke up in the morning and a few minutes before you fell asleep at night.

In the end, the disconnect was too much, and the two of you agreed to end things before they could get ugly.

You were thankful to have avoided the period of fighting and bickering that you knew would inevitably come with the track that you and Mason were on. Your relationship with him had many fond memories attached to it, and you didn’t want to see those tainted by a messy breakup. But every day that passed, you missed waking up in his bed, being by his side, spending time with him— all of it.

The two of you had tried your best to remain friends, truly. You had texted back and forth a bit, doing your best to keep up with each other’s lives and keep each other updated. You met for coffee about three weeks after the split, but after that your communication had quickly fallen off. You wondered if, like you, Mason had realized that trying to maintain a friendship had grown too painful. If, like you, it was killing him to have you sitting across from him and not be able to hold you, to kiss you, to call you his.

But there was no way for you to know— the two of you hadn’t spoken since.

It hadn’t come as a surprise that he was making an appearance at the charity gala. After all, it was him that had connected you with Together For Short Lives, the organization that Mason had a long-standing relationship with and also the organization benefitting from tonight’s events. Mason’s passion for the charity and its work had sparked something within you, and you had quickly pulled some strings to get your workplace involved with it as well— all of this while you were still together.

So when your boss told you about his contribution to the charity gala and has asked you to be the representative for the business at the auction itself, you knew that seeing Mason would be inevitable.

But it’s been eight months since the split—seven since you last saw him. Surely, you’d be fine by now, you had thought.

Unfortunately, you had thought wrong.

The first glimpse of him in the sleek black suit had sent a sharp pang through your chest, a wave of emotions crashing over you. His hair and beard were neatly trimmed and the softness of it immediately made you think of how it felt when you would run your fingers through it, or the scratch of his beard when you would cradle his jaw in your palm. His shoulders seemed to have grown broader, if that was even possible. His eyes looked brighter, and he seemed far more well-rested than you had seen him in the months leading up to your breakup.

And then the terrifying thought had hit you.

Maybe he was better off without you.

Maybe the breakup had been good for him. Maybe you had been the thing draining him in the last months of your relationship.

You felt the tears spring to your eyes as soon as the thought crossed your mind, blinking them away quickly.

But the thought continued to plague you as the night went on. There were a thousand things that were making you feel unsure of yourself and the thought that your relationship with Mason had actually been detrimental to him was just the cherry on top.

This just wasn’t the kind of event you usually found yourself at, even less a setting that you felt comfortable in. You would much prefer a quite night in or the opportunity to fade into the background. When you had been with Mason, you found yourself at a few events like this one, but you always had him at your side. Often you would allow him to navigate the evening for you, so you didn’t even have to think about anything. Tonight, instead of standing next to you so you cold hold tightly onto his arm when you felt unsteady, he was 100 feet away, engaged in conversation with someone else.

To make matters worse, you had asked a friend of yours to help you find and choose a dress for the evening, and she had insisted you would look and feel great in this elegant, low-cut, dark green dress that had an open back. At the time, she had convinced you that the piece complimented your figure and would make you feel confident and sexy. However, it was completely out of your comfort zone, and you regretted your decision to listen to her as you tugged on parts of the dress to try to cover yourself up more throughout the night.

Between the unfamiliar environment, the dress, and Mason’s presence, everything left you feeling quite unsure of yourself.

When you reached your seating assignment, you were relieved to see that you were familiar with a few of the individuals that were sitting at your table—acquaintances that worked for the same company as you who, no doubt, were also sent as representatives for the charity gala. The relief was short-lived, however, when you realized that, directly in front of you, a mere two tables over, Mason’s seat was directly in your line of sight.

You did your best to sink into the shadows, allowing conversation to flow around you without making any contribution, unless someone directly asked you a question. You also tried your hardest not to look over at Mason— this sight of him happily engaging in conversation, seemingly unaffected by your presence, was too much for your heart to handle.

A wave of relief washed over you when someone got up on the stage, removing any pressure to engage in conversation at the table as everyone turned their attention to the announcer. He spoke a bit about Together for Short Lives and the work that they did, soon announcing that it was time for the items to be auctioned off.

Some of the auction items piqued your interest, seeming like items or experiences that you thought you might enjoy. But any sort of intrigue faded when you heard the amounts of money that some of the gala’s patrons were volunteering for them, quickly realizing you were way out of your depth in this room of people.

Before too long, the announcer introduced a “Manchester United Experience,” involving a tour of the team’s facility, accompanied by the team’s star boy himself. Mason approached the stage, walking up the short flight of stairs as applause rang throughout the room. You didn’t hear much of the discussion of the experience as you got caught up in watching Mason and the playful way he interacted with the announcer and the crowd. His silly boyishness sent a pang through your heart, missing the playful way he used to interact with you.

You could’ve sworn his eyes caught yours as they swept the room, and you flashed him a short, forced smile as a sort of sign of goodwill. You weren’t exactly sure where the two of you stood, but you wanted to show him that you didn’t harbor any negative feelings toward him, despite the loss of contact.

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned his attention back to the announcer who had just asked him a question— one that Mason had to ask him to repeat.

Soon Mason was leaving the stage, having earned an ungodly amount of money for TFSL with his promised tour of Old Trafford.

A sick feeling settled in your gut, knowing it couldn’t be much longer before your company’s contribution was auctioned off. The mere thought of stepping onto that stage sent a rush of fear through your veins.

Before you knew it, you found yourself standing to the side of the stage, awaiting your queue to join the announcer on it. Your palms felt sweaty, your heart racing as you tried your best to compose yourself. Applause rang through the room, and you put all of your focus into not tripping as you walked up the stairs.

The room felt ten times bigger from atop the stage, filled with many more people than you had realized were in attendance. You tried to focus on smiling and nodding at the appropriate moments as the announcer explained what your company was auctioning off.

“And of course, we’re very appreciative of Miss… uhm…”

“Y/L/N,” you spoke quietly as the announcer trailed off.

“Yes, we’re very appreciative of Miss Y/L/N being here with us tonight,” the announcer resumed his charismatic personality after it had faltered briefly. “She’s certainly doing her part to raise money for a good cause. I mean, with this much skin on show, that has to be worth a few extra pounds on your bid, right?”

Your stomach sank to your feet as laughter erupted in the large room. You felt the heat in your cheeks, your smile faltering at his words. You suddenly felt ten times more self-conscious of yourself as you stood on the stage, feeling like a zoo animal being laid bare and displayed for everyone’s entertainment.

“With that, we’re going to start the bidding off at…” The announcers voice faded as the room felt like it was closing in on you. Your eyes flicked through the crowd, jumping from face to face until you found the one you were looking for— Mason.

While everyone else seemed to still be composing themselves from the eruption of laughter at the joke the announcer had made at your expense, Mason’s eyes met yours with the saddest expression you though you had ever seen. You could just barely make out his lips mouthing the words it’s okay, you’re okay, before your misty eyes could no longer make out his face.

You composed yourself just long enough for the announcer to finish off the auction, and you offered him a forced smile before you rushed off of the stage.

All you knew was that you needed to be anywhere but this room. You needed to get out, away from all of the people who had just witnessed your very public humiliation.

You made a beeline toward the back of the large hall that everyone was seated in, spotting the double doors that you knew led out to the hallway. Your heels click on the floor as you push through the doors and find the exit out to the decorative garden off of the side of the building being used for the gala. Thinking a bit of fresh air would do you good, you rushed outside, ignoring the chill that rushed through you as the cold air met your skin. Moving quickly away from the building, you ducked behind some hedges in the hope that no one would see you.

Your breathing was heavy as you tried your best to dampen the emotions welling up inside of you. Your throat felt tight as you fought back the tears of embarrassment, frustration, and regret. Forcing yourself to breath slowly, in through your nose and out through your mouth, you did your best to wipe gently at the corners of your eyes, praying that you wouldn’t ruin the makeup you had done only a few hours before.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice call from around the corner. Your heart sank as you recognized the gentle tone and the footsteps let you know that he was close. This was surely not the circumstances you had hoped to be in when you spoke to him for the first time in months.

You turned your back just in time for Mason to round the corner and find you hiding away in your little nook. There was nothing you hated more than the idea of letting him see you cry in this moment.

“Y/N, love-“

“I’m fine, Mason.” Your voice came out harsher than you had meant for it to. “Really, I’m okay. Just go back to the auction.”

Undeterred by the way you had spoken, Mason took a couple of steps closer to you. “No, you’re not, Y/N. I know you better than that.”

You couldn’t respond, and you knew he hadn’t missed the small sniffle you had let out as you bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

It was only a moment before you felt his fingers gently take hold of your arm, turning you to face him. Your head was bowed low, still unwilling to let him see your misty eyes.

“C’mere, love,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you in for a tight hug. You couldn’t keep yourself from returning the gesture, your arms wrapped under his as you pressed your palms into his broad back to hold him close. You tucked your face into his neck and suddenly, your heart felt more settled than it had in months.

“He had no right to say anything like that— about you or about anyone,” Mason mumbled into your hair, pressing a barely-there kiss to your temple. “It was completely inappropriate, and you have every right to feel upset. I’m so sorry.”

He brought a hand up to cradle the back of your head, holding you closer to him. You didn’t fight it at all, settling into him more and taking comfort in the proximity.

When he could tell that your breathing had steadied, Mason pulled back, still holding you with one arm as he looked down at you with a soft smile.

“There she is.” He brought his free hand up, brushing his thumb gently under your eyes to wipe away a tear that had fallen. The gesture was so gentle and intimate that you felt like your knees were about to give out, thankful that he still had one arm around you to steady you. “Whatever waterproof makeup you’re using is working because you still look perfect,” he joked, warmth flooding through him at the soft giggle you let out before dropping your forehead onto his chest.

“For the record, your dress is beautiful,” Mason said softly. You knew he must have sensed your discomfort with how much skin you had on show, even before the gala announcer had made any comment about it. “And, in the least creepy, predatory way possible, you look amazing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wanting to convey your gratitude to him while trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. The one thing you did like about the mostly open back of the dress is that you could feel Mason’s palm flattened directly against your skin as he held you close, his thumb rubbing back and forth in soothing motions. This, combined with the look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place as he looked down at you, made your skin feel like it was on fire, the heat rising up your neck and into your cheeks.

You brought your hands to his chest, holding the lapels of his jacket in your hand before you spoke quietly. “We should go back inside before anyone realizes we’ve gone.” You felt suddenly overwhelmed by the interaction with him, feeling yourself falling back into old habits without even intending to.

Mason unwound his hands from your waist, seeming a bit discouraged by your comment as he merely nodded, holding his arm out for you to take. You did so, holding onto his elbow to keep yourself steady as he led you back inside.

It was quiet between the two of you, neither sure what to say to the other after the intimate moment in the garden. Once back inside you squeezed his elbow gently, saying, “I’m gonna go freshen up really quickly, but I’ll see you back out there,” with a gentle smile. Mason nodded, letting you step away from him and into the bathroom.

In truth, while you did feel a need to freshen up a bit after the tears you had shed outside, you needed a moment to collect yourself— not because of the auction announcer’s comments, but because of Mason.

You stood at the small sink in the ladies’ room, watching yourself in the mirror as you tried to stop the way your head seemed to be spinning. The last time you had seen Mason was seven months ago, engaged in stiff conversation because neither of you knew how to speak to each other after the breakup. But now, he had come to your rescue without a second thought and held you as if the breakup had never even happened.

And it felt right…

You shook your head, telling yourself not to read too much into it— Mason is a caring person and just because he ran to your side when someone had said something hurtful about you doesn’t mean he wants you back. You were self-aware enough to recognize that you had a tendency to let your thoughts run away with you, and you did your best to shut it down before it got out of hand.

At the same time, Mason’s mind was also running wild. His brain felt as if it was under some sort of fog, intoxicated by the feeling of being able to touch your skin again. He was like an addict who had quit, cold turkey, some months ago, and the first taste of your proximity had nearly done him in. He couldn’t stop thinking of how it felt to be so close to you again— to feel your weight against his body, to smell your shampoo that was still the same, to hear your soft voice, muffled by his own neck, your gentle breaths fanning over his skin.

He was worried that maybe he had been too forward— maybe you hadn’t wanted him to run after you. He didn’t want you to think he felt like he needed to rescue you from every poor situation, but after hearing the announcer’s comments and seeing the way it had so clearly upset you (even though everyone else seemed to have overlooked it), he knew he couldn’t just let you be on your own.

He been wary of overwhelming you, but it felt right to pull you into his arms out in the garden. It felt right to hold you close to him and rub gentle, soothing circles into your back with his thumb, the way he’d always done before.

Mason felt unsure of himself. He worried that your hurry to get back inside was to get away from him. He pondered with the idea of going back into the gala so it didn’t seem like he was hovering. But he battled with himself internally, thinking that you may not have wanted to be left to your own devices.

He hated that the months he had spent apart from you had robbed him of his ability to read you. He just wished he could figure out what was going on in your head.

In the bathroom, if you hadn’t had a full face of makeup on, you would’ve taken this opportunity to splash your face with cold water. However, a few deep breaths while you told yourself to get it together would have to do, and you exited the bathroom, planning to find your way back to your table and leave as soon as the event was over. It would be best, you thought, to not engage too much with Mason to avoid getting your hopes up before they were inevitably crushed.

Those plans were cut short the moment you stepped out of the bathroom and into the building’s foyer. There, Mason was waiting for you, and your stomach did a flip at the soft smile that took over his face when he lifted his head and saw you.

A wave of relief that you hadn’t expected washed over you at the sight of him waiting there.

“It sounds like they’ve wrapped up the auction in there.” Mason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward the large hall that you had fled from just a bit ago. You could hear the sound of loud conversation and laughter, signaling that Mason was, indeed correct, and the guests would be starting to exit the hall soon.

Unsure of what you were meant to say, you were thankful when Mason spoke up again. “Look, I’m here, and you’re welcome to stick with me if you’re still feeling a bit overwhelmed, but if you want me to just leave you be, I understa-”

“No, please,” you rushed to cut him off, the thought of having the face the room full of people before you alone sending a feeling of dread down your spine. “I mean… I just… can I just walk with you?” Your voice was small when you spoke again, feeling pathetic for being incapable of facing an event without him by your side.

A warm feeling spread across Mason’s chest at your words, feeling a sense of pride that his presence made you feel even a little bit safer in the unfamiliar environment. Wordlessly, he offered his arm to you again, a reassuring smile on his lips.

As much as you wanted to portray yourself as an independent person who was able to take care of yourself, you had to admit that the rest of the evening felt much easier with Mason at your side. It was so easy to slip back into the same old routine—everyone wanted to talk to the star footballer, and you were happy to stand quietly at his side while he shook hands and unleashed his irresistible charm on each one.

Mason kept you close to him at all times, and the warmth of him settled your nerves tremendously. The gentle placement of his hand on your lower back sent tingles up your spine every time, and it took everything in you not to wrap your arms around his waist, afraid of overstepping.

It wasn’t much longer before Mason was leaning down, mumbling in your ear to ask if you were ready to leave. He knew this wasn’t your scene at all and had been looking for an opportunity to get you out of there since the two of you had stepped back into the gathering hall.

You had to hold back a shiver as his breath fanned over your neck, nodding in response. You let him know you just had to pop over to your table to grab your things and he nodded, following as you led the way.

Once you had retrieved your clutch and bid as quick of a goodbye as you could muster to those that were still lingering at your table, you and Mason turned to leave, heading back toward the set of doors you had entered through. The hall had grown more crowded, and as you weaved between tables, you allowed Mason to grasp your hand, leading the way through the sea of people so you wouldn’t be separated.

As you entered the foyer, Mason tugged you forward gently so that you returned to his side. The two of you exchanged a short smile.

“Is your hotel close by?” you asked, trying to make a bit of small talk as the two of you walked toward the exit.

When the bridge of Mason’s nose went red, a shy but unsure smile on his face, you slapped a hand over your face, realizing the double meaning of your question.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you felt the heat in your face as you, no doubt, were turning bright red. “I was just trying to make small talk. Clearly, I’m not good at it.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Mason couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Uh, I’m actually making the drive back to Manchester tonight. We’ve got training tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to get home.” Mason reached the door, holding it open for you. “What about you? Are you nearby?”

“Yeah, actually.” The two of you reached the sidewalk in front of the building, coming to a stop as you turned toward each other. “I’m supposed to be a hotel just a bit that way.” You pointed behind him, toward the accommodations that your job was paying for.

There was a beat of silence between the two of you.

“You know… you’re welcome to tag along back to Manchester with me, if you wanted to. I could use the company to keep me awake.” Mason smiled softly at you, remembering how much you hated staying in hotels.

“Don’t you have Lewis or someone with you? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Mason shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet, “just me.” He was subtly rocking back and forth on his feet, and you could tell he was nervous about your answer.

Getting to go home, rather than sleeping in an uncomfortable hotel bed did sound pretty nice after the turn your night had taken.

Mason watched your eyebrows furrow in thought, an anxious feeing settling in his tummy as he awaited your response.

“You’re sure?”

Mason did his best to conceal the excitement he felt at the idea of getting to spend a couple more hours with you. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he whispered. “Come on, you and I both know you won’t get any sleep in that hotel bed.”

You couldn’t deny that he was right.

It wasn’t long before you were ducking into the passenger seat of Mason’s car, making sure the bottom of your dress was all the way in before Mason closed the door behind you.

The drive started out quiet, neither of you sure how to navigate the situation that you found yourself in. But as soon as you asked Mason about the FA Cup quarterfinal win over Liverpool where he had made his return following injury, his face lit up and things felt like they were almost back to normal.

You did your best to keep the topic of conversation on Mason and his life, not wanting to speak about yourself. Any time he seemed to be coming to the end of one topic, you were sure to ask another question before he had the chance to ask one to you.

Because, truth be told, life had been nothing but dull since the two of you had parted ways. Seeing him tonight was the most interesting thing to happen to you since… well, since the last time you’d seen him.

It was no secret that the transition to Manchester had been difficult for the both of you. There was no doubt it had contributed to the ending of your relationship. Leaving behind your friends, your old flat, and all of the things you had known had been no easy task. Thankfully, you had been able to stay in the same line of work, merely transferring to a new location. But you had struggled to adjust to the new, unfamiliar city, even more so when you didn’t have Mason at your side. Weekend visits back to London to visit your old friends were all that had kept you going in the last months.

As you listened to Mason telling stories of all of the fun things he had gotten up to with the boys on the team that he had grown closer with, the self-doubt creeped back in. He seemed to be doing so much better since the two of you called things off, and again your mind told you that maybe he was better off without you.

Mason noticed the change in your demeanor almost immediately. The car grew quiet, and you sat with your head leaned against the window, watching the lights as they passed. It may have been months since he last saw you, but he could recognize the signs of you overthinking from a mile away, unsure of whether it was about the announcer’s comments from earlier in the night or the fact that you were sitting in a car with him.

Wanting to provide a bit of reassurance, Mason reached over, taking your hand in his, bringing it up to his face, and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. He placed your hand back in your lap, moving to put his back on the steering wheel, but your grip tightened slightly to prevent him from doing so. Your head remained pressed against the glass, but the small gesture brought a smile to Mason’s face as he shifted to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Mason didn’t press you for conversation, allowing you the space to process the events of the night however you needed to. Before long, Mason heard the soft sound of your deep, steady breathing, and a quick glance in your direction revealed that you had drifted off to sleep, your hand relaxed in his. The dull ache that had settled in his chest all night grew a bit sharper as he stole a few glances in your direction, admiring the peaceful expression on your face.

As much as he tried to hide it, as much as he tried to put on a brave face and talk about all of the amazing things that had been going on in his like recently, he couldn’t deny…

He missed you.

He missed having you like this, at his side at the end of a long day. He missed the feeling of ease that washed over him just by knowing you were close by and being able to have that same effect on you. He missed catching up with you at the end of the day, instead of trying to accurately recap the seven months that had passed since he’d last seen you.

He just missed you being in his life and had spent the last eight months trying to find out how to get you back in it.

You were jostled awake as you heard the sound of a car door closing. You sat up straight, blinking your eyes a few times as you tried your best to figure out where you were. You recognized the interior of Mason’s car, a flash of confusion running through you before the memories of the night came flooding back in.

The car door at your side opened, Mason appearing at your side as he crouched down, offering you the gentlest of smiles.

“Hey there, love,” he spoke softly, and the kind look in his eyes made your heart flutter. “You fell asleep on the way back, and I realized I don’t know where your new flat is.”

The little flutter of your heart quickly died, the reality of your failed relationship crashing back in after you had been able to put it to the back of your mind for much of the night since Mason had come to your aid.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” you shook your head, reaching for your bag to pull out your phone. “I’ll just order a car, I’m so sor-”

“Don’t be silly, just stay here. I’ve got some extra things you can use, and I’m going into training late tomorrow anyway, so I can drop you at home on my way,” Mason smiled at you, and the way his eyes shone hopefully meant you wouldn’t need much convincing, whispering a soft “okay” in reply.

Mason took your hand, helping you out of the car and leading you inside as you wiped your bleary eyes. He led you to his room, releasing your hand as he wandered through the room, laying out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for you to wear. He wandered to the bathroom for a few moments. When he emerged, you watched with confusion as he collected a few things in his hands and walked toward his door.

“You can sleep in here tonight. I still had some of your skincare products left over from before, so they’re out on the counter,” he smiled at you. “I’ll just be in the guest room, if you need anything.”

His generosity caught you off-guard, and before you could come up with a response, he placed a quick kiss to the top of your head and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

You stood in the middle of the room for a moment, just looking around, taking it all in. You never would have suspected that you’d find yourself here again, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the turn that this night had taken.

Finally snapping yourself out of it, you slipped out of your dress, pulling Mason’s shirt over your head. The scent of his cologne mixed with the laundry detergent he always used brought a wave of emotion crashing over you, and your lower lip wobbled as you walked into the bathroom.

Along with a spare toothbrush that he had set out for you, all of your skincare products were lined up on the counter, and the thought that he had held onto them for you after all this time was what finally caused the tears the spill down your cheeks, the emotions of the night finally catching up with you.

When you crawled into the bed, face washed and feeling fresher after the long night, you allow the tears to flow, pressing your face into Mason’s pillow.

All of it was so overwhelming. Seeing him again after so long. How unsure you had felt of yourself throughout the night. Being humiliated in front of an entire audience. The way Mason had run to your side without a moment’s hesitation. The way it had felt so natural to fall back into conversation with him, to touch him, for him to touch you. Being back in the house that you had once shared with him.

It was all too much.

Not even 30 feet away, Mason was lying on his back in the guest bed, eyes wide open as he stared at the ceiling. There was no way he was falling asleep any time soon, the thought of you in his bed only a few steps away enough to keep him awake.

After an hour had passed, accompanied by only his racing thoughts, Mason toyed with the idea of sneaking down to his room to see if you were awake. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to you, and he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t get to say them soon.

But he thought better of it, guessing that you were probably already asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb you.

However, Mason had guessed wrong. Instead, you were lying on your side, legs tucked up close to your body, staring at the small, framed photo of the two of you on Mason’s side table. It had always been there during your relationship, and the thought that he had kept it in the time since you had split brought such a weight of sadness over you that you felt sick.

Did he miss you the way you missed him? Did he, too, regret not fighting harder for your relationship with every day that passed?

The thought kept you awake until the early hours of the morning.

When Mason awoke the next morning, a heavy exhaustion weighed on him as he had only slept a few hours, tossing and turning the entire time. He crawled out of bed and slipped a shirt over his head, his feet padding softly on the carpeted floor as he moved down the hallway to check on you. He noticed that the door to his room was already open, and when he peeked his head in, you were nowhere to be found.

From the way the blankets were shifted, Mason could tell that you had slept on his side of the bed, and his chest tightened at the thought.

The sound of clinking pots and pans coming from the kitchen caused Mason’s ears to perk up and led him in that direction.

As Mason rounded the corner, he found you, with your back facing him, standing in front of the oven. Your hair, falling across your shoulders, still held some of the curl that you had done for the event the night prior. Mason’s heart clenched at the sight of you in his shirt and a pair of his sweatpants.

A few pans and bowls were scattered across the stovetop and counters, and Mason recognized all of the components of the hearty breakfast you used to make when both of you had the day off. The combination of smells was so specific, and the déjà vu nearly made him dizzy.

You turned around, reaching for a bowl on the counter and jumped slightly when you saw Mason there.

“Sorry,” he breathed, still at a bit of a loss for words. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

You just gave him a small smile and a short “s’okay” as you turned back to the stove. “Sorry if I woke you.” Your voice sounded so small—Mason hated it. He hated the tension that hung in the air between the two of you. He hated the fact that you had nearly become strangers to each other.

In the hours that you had spent, lying awake with your thoughts running wild in Mason’s bed, you had resolved to avoid complicating things further than they already had been. Things were awkward enough between the two of you after Mason had graciously come to the rescue, despite the ending of your relationship, and you were determined to make it home without making it worse.

You owed it to yourself— your feelings for Mason were still there, hidden just beneath the surface. But you refused to put yourself out there and put your heart through that pain again.

You wished you had it in you to be cold with him, completely cutting off any chance of rekindling something between the two of you— any risk of getting your hopes up. But you knew Mason, and you knew that he often wore his heart on his sleeve, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him like that, either.

But despite your resolve and determination, the sorrow-filled gaze in Mason’s eyes had already begun to pierce through the armor that you had put around your heart.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Mason slipped into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the island countertop. His eyes followed you as you finished preparing the last of the breakfast. You dished out two plates— a portion for yourself and another, larger portion for Mason.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know?” Mason spoke softly as you set the plate in front of him.

You shrugged, standing on the opposite side of the island from him as you stared down at your own plate. “It’s the least I could do. It’s your food anyway,” you mumbled, poking at your eggs with a fork, suddenly feeling too sick to eat anything.

“Well, thank you, Y/N,” Mason said, earnestly. “I really appreciate it.”

Mason couldn’t help but feel discouraged by your stony demeanor. He had hoped that after the night prior, the two of you might be on the right path to sorting things out between you, but now he wasn’t so sure.

He kept stealing quick glances at you as he ate, savoring every delicious bite. But he could tell how uneasy you felt as you stood there, tucking your hair behind your ear as you took small bites from your plate.

The tension was thick as the two of you ate in silence, neither one sure how to even begin the conversation. Did you talk about last night, or leave the topic untouched?

The longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the heavier the weight on your heart grew. As much as you had tried not to get your hopes up, and as many times as you told yourself that your relationship with Mason was well and truly over, a small part of you had still hoped that he would say something this morning— anything, really. That small part of you wanted to believe that this chance encounter was the key—a sign that the two of you needed to find your way back to each other.

But despite it all, the spark that you had hoped was still there seemed to have been snuffed out.

You kept your eyes glued to your plate, afraid that Mason would see them shining with tears and start asking questions. You didn’t want him to think you were pathetic— needing him to rescue you the night before and now here, standing in his kitchen, crying because he didn’t want you back.

You took a breath and steeled yourself to pack up your things from his room and get the fastest Uber back home you could manage.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you scraped the last of your food into the trashcan, no longer able to stomach another bite, and placed the empty dish in the sink. You left the kitchen as quickly as you could, trying to hide your face from Mason as the first tears fell.

Mason was taken by surprise at your sudden rush to leave the room, the noise a stark contrast to the silence that had hung thick in the air. He watched your back as you walked out without so much as a glance in his direction.

His stomach sank. He had hoped, after lying awake all night thinking of you, that you had been cooking breakfast for him as a sort of sign—a signal that you wanted to talk things over again and revisit the topic of him and you. But the unpleasant aura that had remained between the two of you while you ate had gotten you no closer to that conversation.

Maybe he had read too far into things. Maybe the breakfast had just been a ‘thank you’ for driving you back to Manchester last night. Maybe he had pushed too far and inviting you to stay at his was too much, too soon.

Mason pushed his plate away from him, dropping his head into his hands and huffing a sigh as he felt his eyes burn with tears that surprised him. He hadn’t realized just how much the last 24 hours had gotten his hopes up for reigniting a relationship with you until you seemed to have walked away from it altogether.

It was almost like he could feel his heart breaking all over again.

But no, Mason resolved. He refused to let you walk away from him again, not until he had fully expressed to you how deeply he missed you, how much he still cared for you.

With renewed determination, Mason stood from his chair and nearly ran to his bedroom.

Standing outside of his own bedroom door, Mason hesitated for a moment, again overthinking his decision to confront the issue head-on.

But that didn’t last for more than a second before he was tapping his knuckles gently on the door three times.

“You can come in,” he heard your small voice.

When he opened the door, slowly, he found you just returning from the bathroom, several of your own items in hand. As you attempted to collect all of your things, Mason didn’t miss the tear you tried to inconspicuously wipe from your cheek or the soft sniffle you tried to hide with a cough. His heart softened— seeing you cry had always been one of the things he hated most.

“I have an Uber on the way. Should be here any minute. I don’t want to ask you to drive me again,” you spoke hurriedly, as if overcompensating for your fragile state by talking too much. “I can, um, just wash these clothes and drop them off sometime. I really-“

You were cut off when you turned to walk around to the other side of the bed and instead, ran straight into Mason’s chest.

He steadied you with a hand on each of your arms. He held an unreadable expression on his face, and you knew there was no hiding the tear streaks on your cheeks now. However, Mason’s eyes shone with as he looked down at you.

It was silent for several seconds until Mason spoke in a whisper, pleading.

“Don’t go.”

And the silence returned. Your thoughts were spinning a mile a minute. Your mouth dropped open, your brain making its most valiant attempt at forming a response, and yet no words came to you.

Mason took your loss for words as an invitation to continue. “I miss mornings like this. I miss falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up next to you. I miss talking to you at the end of the day,” his lower lip wobbled as he paused to collect himself. “I miss you, Y/N.”

His words pierced right to your heart. Whatever walls you had built to keep him out were nowhere near strong enough and you could already feel them beginning to crumble.

“Letting you walk away was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve spent every day since then wishing I could go back and change it all. I would’ve fought harder for you— for us.” Mason pleaded softly. “Seeing you last night made me realize that none of that has gone away, I still feel the way I did before. Please— please tell me you feel it, too.”

The tears poured freely from your eyes now, and there was no holding them back. You rolled your lips into your mouth, attempting to hold in a sob. Mason’s hands left your arms, coming up to cradle your cheeks as you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. His thumbs swiped at your cheeks, trying to dry your tears.

“I can’t, Mason. W-We can’t,” your voice trembled.

“Why can’t we?” Mason was desperate, resting his forehead against yours. The proximity was making your head spin, the feeling of his breath fanning across your face too familiar, too overwhelming.

“Who’s to say it won’t be the same as the last time?” you cried, finally looking back at him. “I can’t go through that pain, not again.”

“We decide that it’ll be different.” Mason was ready to get on his knees and beg if he had to. “Things will be better this time— I’ll be better.”

He knew that what you had was worth fighting for, and if there was any chance—even a shred of hope—that you would give him another shot, he had to take it.

You looked up into his tear-filled eyes as he whispered, “I just know I can’t lose you, Y/N, not again.”

Like a dam breaking loose, a sob wracked your body at his words. Whatever had been left of the walls you had built up came crashing to the ground. Mason was quick to pull you into his chest, resting his cheek on the top of your head as he rubbed soothing circles into your back.

It was like all of the hurt and emotions from the last eight months tore through you at once. Mason, feeling the way your frame was shaking, held you tightly to him, as if he were the only thing holding you together in that moment. He kissed the top of your head, and you could hear him sniffle, knowing that he was crying, too.

As your cries grew softer and you began to calm down, you clutched Mason’s shirt tightly in your fists, afraid that if you released him, he would disappear.

Mason eventually leaned back to look at you and you lifted your head from where it was buried in his chest. There was the softest hint of a smile on his face as he tried to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I-If we do this…” Mason’s tummy flipped at your words, clinging to the sense of hope that they brought. “If we give this another chance, we have to take it slow.”

Mason nodded quickly, his eyes flicking all over your face for any sign of hesitation. “Anything you need, love. Anything at all.”

Your lower lip wobbled as you took him in. “I’ve missed you so much, Masey.”

Mason pressed his lips firmly to your forehead, his heart soaring at the use of his nickname. “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving— never again.”

You leaned forward, pressing your face into his neck and hugged him again, trying to drink if the feeling of being back in his arms. You let him overwhelm your senses— the feeling of his arms around your body, his comforting scent as you breathed him in, the sound of his heartbeat that calmed you so easily.

“I know we’re taking it slow, but I have a couple more hours until training,” Mason spoke softly as you pulled back, looking up at him. A hopeful smile played on his lips. “Will you stick around? Cancel your Uber. I can take you home on my way.”

“Are you sure?” There was still that shred of lingering doubt, the fear of imposing yourself.

“I’m so sure,” he smiled. “I don’t think i’m ready to let go of you just yet.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips before you whispered a soft “okay.”

Never, when you left for the gala the night before, did you think this was where you would find yourself—back at Mason’s house, as he led you to the couch to cuddle while you talked about what your next steps would be. But as you lay in his arms, admiring the soft scattering of freckles across his cheeks, you felt a piece of your heart that had been missing those last few months begin to heal.

And you couldn’t be more thankful that you had your boy back.

As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated!!! 🤍

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dumbification · 2 days

Text

cigarettes after sex

summie : your love for each other is as bright as the flame that lights the cigarette you share.

warnings : boothill , aventurine , sunday x f!reader ( separate ) . smoking . afterplay . fluff . petnames . ( sugar, baby , dove , etc. ) sharing cigarettes . situationship . ( aventurine )

note : thank u guys for 100 followers in such a small amnt of time!! much love to u all.. its recommended to listen to some cas songs while reading!! (sweet for boothill, apocalypse for aven, heavenly for sunday) special taggies~ @nvuy ( ask 2 be added !! )

boothill

your legs shook uncontrollably. with jittery knees, you collapsed on top of his cool metal body. he was shaking too, through his own high. he reached out to cup your face, inviting you to a kiss. you took his offer, and crashed into him.

"you good?" he spoke softly this time. you simply gave him a nod, and went back in for another one. his lips were warm and soft unlike the rest of his body. you broke the kiss to lovingly stare into his eyes as you share breath. boothill always loved the sound you make when you breathe. there's something missing about the way he does.

you looked beautiful in the moonlight. soft rays of luster bounced off of your skin that glistened with sweat, giving you a brilliant glow. he was obsessed with your body, but you found it so cute how your smile just did it for him. it was so gratifying for him to see you with such a tranquil expression.

no matter how enticing you looked in your red lingerie, he'd rather look into your eyes the entire time. he thought your body was perfect, and how your skin was the perfect color. but it was always your eyes that truly put him in a trance.

"well, i need a cigarette." he went to fetch some robes for you to wear while you lit the cylinder of tobacco. "you must be cold, sugar." he was right, you were shivering here and there, but it's nothing you can't handle. you wore the warm robe anyway to put him at ease.

with a click, the lighter emits a little flame. it danced in its place as it fought the breeze of cool air. you brought the lighter near the tip of your cigarette, allowing it to lay in that small flame. he followed you to light his own, while you exhaled a stream of smoke. "you should wear one too, boothill." a cloud of smog left his mouth. "alright, baby. if it makes ya happy."

you'd like to stay like this---basking in each other's silence as you slowly burn your lungs away. you wouldn't mind just doing this with him all the time, even without sex beforehand. one after another, you finish the entire box. there's nothing else in the room but him and the scent of burnt tobacco, sweat and your perfume that meet each other in the night air.

"i love you." you pepper his neck in small pecks. the thought was as sweet as honey, knowing that you loved him. even without these words of affirmation, he knows that you love him. inhale, and exhale. that's how it works. but to love someone as breathtaking as you, he should be a dead man by now.

"i love you too."

aventurine

you giggled. "did you miss me?" he obviously did, those eyes tell you everything, you could drown in them and you wouldn't mind. he could do anything to you, and you wouldn't mind. the cigarette lingered in between your lips---only for you to pull it out, which had a cloud of smoke follow it. "your turn." you handed the cigarette to him, and his expression was.. priceless. "indirect kiss, much?" you know much well that he'd rather actually kiss you.

he took the cigarette between his tounge and teeth, locking eyes with you the entire time. you were sure you were about to drown in his eyes. you were entranced---enchanted, even. a puff of smog left his mouth. he crushed the cigarette in his gloved hand. you found it odd how he still wore his gloves when he's literally almost naked. people have their secrets, i guess.

his thumb gently brushed your bottom lip. you felt the side of your lips tug into a smirk. "someone's excited." he only chuckled. "right.." he'd get you worked up by placing chaste kisses against your jaw. that smug look on your face quickly turned into this flustered state of yours. "look who's excited now." he was probably---no, definitely more excited than you were. so excited he had to wipe the corner of his lips because he was practically drooling. you'll give it to him this time.

you plead. "please. aven." he cant say no to you. you eagerly went straight in to passionately crash your lips against his. your hands were tangled in his hair, and his own were tightly wrapped around the back of your waist. when your lips meet his lips, it was like it could end the world. if he were able to, he would have it end the world---if it meant it would end the lives of all who wronged you. he truly loved you, but it broke his heart to know you're not ready to love him back.

it was all okay in the end. if you were still locked up, unable to say goodbye, he'd wait. whatever this situationship was, it was enough. you could break his heart and he wouldn't mind. you could do anything to him, and he wouldn't mind. your lips were enough.

love is a curse he longs for, and he wanted you to be the one to haunt him. thank the aeons he was cursed with luck, because he truly was lucky to love you.

sunday

"wanna smoke?" he opened his mouth to say something, but failed to do so. instead, hesitatingly muttering something on the lines of "..of course, my dove." you will say, you are sure that this man does not smoke at all. even so, you were eager to let him try a bit. if only you could light this damned cigarette. in the room dimly lit by the moonlight, your lighter barely did anything to brighten up the place.

a flame flickered in a click, leaving a faint glow on the tip of your cigarette. you played with the cigar in your mouth while mumbling random bits about your day. sunday watched you closely, admiring the way your lips moved with each syllable, and how your eyes scrunched up with you smiled. you shut up when you realized that he hadn't lit his own cigarette. "sunday?" you blinked in confusion as smog slowly seeped through your mouth.

he had been broken out of his trance. 'i.. i'm sorry. i don't-" you shoved your cigar in his face. "it's okay. just try mine." at first he tasted nothing but the sweet yet bitter flavor of your saliva, which may have been tainted with the taste of his own.. other bodily fluids. then it hit him. the harsh smell of burnt tobacco filled his senses. he began to choke and splutter on the cigarette, and his own words. "c-can't brea-" you snatched the cigar from his hand and had your lips meet his.

you didn't know why you kissed him while he was about to die out of air, maybe sharing your own supply of breath with him would help. you pulled away to see his expression, which was quite cute. a fire lit up in his stomach, similar to the fire that the lighter emits. you giggled as you wiped the corner of your lips with your thumb. his wings fluttered in embarrassment and excitement.

"try again? pretty please?" if it made you happy, he'd do so---even though with hesitation. he put it in his mouth once again, with a little less struggle to breathe. he slowly got the hang of it, letting it linger as the poison slowly filled his lungs. he pulls it out to exhale a cloud of smoke.

he cleared his throat. "can you.. kiss me again?" you know that he already knows what the sensation of kissing you feels like, but with your lips so sweet---its a new and heavenly experience each time. you took a long breath from the cigar, quickly pulling it out to have your lips meet his.

your tongue swirled around the walls of his mouth, desperate to explore deeper into him. he followed you, letting you take the initiative as he tied his tongue around yours. there was something so ethereal about the way you felt, it made him long for you even more. he never wanted to let go of this dream, this is where he wanted to be. taking it slow with you, forever and ever.

this time, he was the one to pull away. he brushed his thumb over the corner of his lips. "please, tell me you're real." you giggled at how infatuated he was with you. you pecked his cheek and brushed your palm on the side of his face. "i'm real. and yours."

@ dumbification . do not plagiarize or modify my work.

#⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ dumbification #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x you #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #aventurine x you #sunday #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #sunday x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 3 days

Text

The Cauliflower (The Surprise, Part 17)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregancy times, implied sex, not quite smut but bordering on it for a hot second, literally so fluffy I almost can't stand it, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're enjoying the start of your third trimester at the beach with Emily on your babymoon. Basically, you're both smitten as hell and it's really, really cute.

Week 27: The Cauliflower

Emily didn’t think she’d ever felt so relaxed in her life. It was cool for June in coastal North Carolina, or so you’d told her, a nice breeze blowing in from the ocean. You were halfway through your vacation in Nags Head, and Emily hadn’t had a single call from work, not one. She had not checked any emails. She hadn’t even watched the news.

This morning, she’d woken up slowly, savoring the sound of the waves, the dappled light as it came through the sheer curtains, your body curled next to hers. For a while, she just watched you, the small movements of your eyelids, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell over your face. And when she was ready, when she couldn’t quite stand it any more–how beautiful you were, how perfect–she’d woken you with soft kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest, until you were sleepily guiding her down your body.

She smiled, kissing your thighs. “Good morning, my love."

“This isn’t a bad way to wake up,” you said, stretching.

She smirked at you, ghosting her fingers over your already-soaked center. “Want it to get better?”

“God, yes,” you gasped, arching your back.

Now, as you both lounged on beach chairs, shaded by an umbrella, watching the families from adjacent houses play in the sand and the water, Emily felt a contentment she’d never quite felt before. You were laid out next to her, baby bump on full display, snoozing quietly, sunglasses slipping down your nose. She smiled softly at you, gently pushing them up.

Sometimes it was hard to believe she’d gotten so lucky. 11:00am. It was only 11:00am and she’d already gotten to wake up next to the love of her life in a beautiful place, already had stellar sex that, let’s be honest, was available to her virtually all the time, already gotten to hold your hand in the waves, and press her hands to your belly to feel the baby move. Her baby. Her child, that so, so soon she’d get to hold and kiss and love. It was like she was living in a dream, the best dream, and never had to wake up from it.

Emily shifted in her beach chair so she could watch you sleep again, knowing it was ridiculous that she loved it so much. She could watch you sleep all day. But she noticed the sun slicing its way across your body and frowned. She couldn’t have you getting burned out here, not when you were sleeping so peacefully.

She stood and stretched, bracing herself against the umbrella to shift it, so that your body was entirely in the shade. She bent down to brush your hair out of your face, leaving a salty kiss on your forehead. You stirred and blinked up at her.

“Sorry, honey,” Emily grimaced, taking her seat again. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s okay.” You stretched and yawned. “I can’t be sleeping the day away.”

You rubbed your belly, smiling as you felt the baby kick and flutter against you. You grabbed Emily’s hand and placed it on the bump, so she could feel the movement. Any chance you got to share your pregnancy with Emily, you took.

“I think she likes the beach,” you observed.

“Just like his mama.” You turned to look at Emily and, for neither the first time nor the last, the love, the absolute devotion in her eyes took your breath away. She was smitten with you. With you. It never got less surprising, less exciting.

“What?” you said, reddening under the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re so pretty.” She was breathless as she leaned forward to kiss you, her sandy fingers running through your hair.

“I’m pretty?!” You giggled between kisses. “You look like a fucking swimsuit model.”

Her hands were all over you, and you felt heat spread over your body–and not in the good way.

“Em,” you groaned, pushing her away gently. “It’s too hot for this. Maybe we should… go for a swim?”

Emily wrinkled her nose, and you laughed. It was a little known fact that Emily was terrified of sharks. If you weren’t there, if you didn’t love the water so much, she wouldn’t have gone more than ankle-deep. She’d even ordered you “shark-repellent” anklets and bracelets that she insisted you both wear in the water. You had your doubts about their efficacy, but if they made Emily feel safer, you were all for it.

You flitted your hands in the air. “Come on, baby, help me up. I’ll fight off any sharks that come near you.”

“Ha ha,” she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm, as she stood and took your hands, pulling you to your feet. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an arm.”

“Emily,” you teased, swinging her hand in yours as you both made your way toward the surf. “I swam in this water every day, every summer of my young life, and I’ve never even seen a shark. We’ll be fine.”

You were practiced in the waves, knowing just when to turn your back, just when to surge forward, leading Emily, laughing and grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. This was your happy place, in every sense of the word. When you finally got out past where the waves broke, you took Emily’s worried face between your hands and kissed her.

“That’s for being my brave girl,” you said, relishing how light your body was in the ocean, wrapping your arms around Emily. Most of the time, she was the one in control. She was stronger, surer than you. But not here, not in the water. You kind of loved it.

You kissed her again, feeling her body loosen and relax into yours.

“That’s for being so pretty.”

And again.

“That’s just because I love you so much.”

By now, Emily was giggling and blushing. You couldn’t think of anything else to say, but you were by no means done kissing her.

You pressed your forehead to hers and just breathed her in. She pulled you close to her, kissing the side of your head, letting you wrap your legs around her torso.

A scream pierced the air, and you both whipped around to find its source, relaxing once you saw that it was simply a child, shrieking and splashing in the waves. His father stood nearby, dangling a baby’s toes in the water, lifting her up to his shoulders when the waves crested.

You watched them for a few minutes, enamored by this glimpse into your future.

“I just can’t wait to meet him,” Emily whispered, circling your baby bump from behind and planting a kiss on your collarbone. “What do you think he’ll be like?”

You pressed your hands over hers, leaning into her touch. “I think she’ll like the water.”

“Almost definitely,” Emily agreed.

“I think…” you mused, “you’ll be her hero. I think she’ll love hummus like you. I think… she’ll be strong and brave and smart like you, too. I hope she’s the kind of person who protects people and makes them feel safe, like you do.”

Emily kissed your neck, hugging you tightly.

“I think,” she started, turning you around to face her. “He’ll be a little bit silly, like you. I hope to god he has your cute nose, it’s just too adorable not to pass on. I think he’ll love to read like you, too, and we’ll get to snuggle in bed and read him stories. I think… he’ll have a wild imagination. Maybe he’ll be a writer, like you.”

Emily seemed to grow sad for a moment, pensive. You tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. "What is it?"

“I know our baby’s going to be perfect,” she sighed. “But… sometimes I wish he could have been made of both of us.”

You ran your thumb across her cheek. “Me too.” You both sat in it for a moment, this desire for something that wasn’t possible, something to grieve–not for long, not forever. But it deserved a moment. It deserved space.

“But, honey,” you finally ventured, the waves lapping gently around you. “The DNA, that’s just a part of it. Not even the most important part. Think about the people who made you who you are. It’s not your parents, right?”

Emily shook her head.

“It’s the people who love you and pour into you and spend time with you. And you will be that for her. You are just as much her mom as me, Em. She will be just as much you as she is me.”

Emily kissed you again, then pulled you into her once more, spinning you lightly with the flow of the ocean. “You know,” she said. “I think we’re gonna make one kick-ass kid.”

“I think so, too,” you said, resting your head against her shoulder.

“I also think we should get out of the water.”

“What!?” Your head shot up. “Why!?”

“My fingers are all pruney,” she pouted, waggling them at you.

“Ugh, fine.” You started the long process of dragging your heavy body back to the beach and out of the water, Emily’s hand always at the small of your back to hold you steady. “You have to fix me a snack when we get back to the chairs, though.”

“Anything you want, love.” And by the way she looked at you, all love and devotion and sappy feelings, you knew she meant it.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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deusvervewrites · 2 days

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I’ve been working my way through your stories and your lore posts. I’m also finally catching up to the end of the MHA manga. My thoughts on the endings of various character arcs is something you might vibe with. Sometimes, mercy to the guilty becomes cruelty to the innocent. It’s great writing when the villains are people you can sympathize with, but it’s weird that the heroes are this focused on saving the villains that are causing so much death and destruction. Your thoughts?

The entire point of My Hero Academia is saving people.

From the first page of the first chapter until now that has never changed.

I've seen people criticizing Midoriya for not going out onto the battlefield to personally and deliberately murder Shgiaraki and I wonder if they're the same people who think Aang should have killed Ozai.

The idea of mercy to the guilty leads to cruelty to the innocent is what caused the entire plot. Had the people at the Dawn of Quirks not immediately started murdering children for being born "wrong", All For One wouldn't have had to cope by doubling down on their propaganda to justify his own existence to himself. But those people were "guilty" of being born wrong, and if they showed mercy to them, then what? What if those people turned on them? No, no. Better to not take that chance.

If Kotaro had forgiven his mother, Shigaraki would never have happened.

If the Togas had accepted their daughter, Himiko would never have become a murderer.

Spinner never left the house because he was seen as "guilty" of the sin of being a mutant. People were massacred for that sin.

Civilians nearly murdered Ippan Josei, a civilian herself, because they believed that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to themselves.

The greatest flaw of the Hero System is that it dehumanized everyone under it. The Heroes were flawless paragons who could never live up to their own hype and swiftly abandoned for failing. The Villains were deemed to be inherently bad and punished for it.

Endeavor was allowed to abuse his wife and all four children and faced no repercussions. Because he's a Hero and Heroes are good. Touya wasn't born correctly enough and was punished over a one-sided feud a generation before him.

Nobody was seen as human. That's literally the point of the final battle. Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, they all had to recognize the humanity of the people they were fighting and remind them of it.

The thesis of My Hero Academia, of every single arc of My Hero Academia, is that Heroes are not "good" and Villains are not "evil." That failing to recognize that fact leads to dark places, like a government that doesn't bat an eye at murdering its own citizens to maintain power. Laws that strip you of your own bodily autonomy.

During his battle against All For One at Kamino, All Might states the the reason Heroes never lose is because they have people to save. The chapter titled Bakugou Katsuki: Rising, his origin chapter, is about 300 chapters into the manga and the first time he saves someone.

All For One and the HPSC are both cruel relics of the past doing their best to manipulate their way to power, viewing everyone in their way as disposable pawns. They're the same. You could even make an argument that the laws against Quirk use means the HPSC is literally giving and taking away Quirks via licenses. And they both completely crumble in large part because of their refusal to see people when it is so much easier to see the enemy.

My Hero Academia is a story about extending your hand to those in need.

#asks #meta

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summerlinenss · 3 days

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I've been thinking about some of the BS Taika and I've just realised that maybe a good chance of it comes from people previously having a positive parasocial relationship with him.

I only became familiar with his work after Thor but his career before that was more indie and he was online more (which he definitely isn't anymore) which probably led to him feeling more accessible and certain people believing they actually knew him when they didn't. Then he didn't act the way they wanted him to based on their own expectations and its easier to lash out at him instead of reflecting on their own behaviour.

This happens frequently with celebs and its exhausting. He's not perfect, no one is. But I think it's interesting that random Internet users insist that he's "changed, sold out " when people who have known him for decades (Jemaine Clement, Bird Runningwater, Sterlin Harjo etc) have repeatedly said he's pretty much the same as he's always been, just with more disposable income lol.

oh 100%. i’ve seen firsthand how people in this fandom have gone from literally worshipping the man and actively defending him from the senseless hate he gets to switching up and making horrid accusations against him and claiming they “always knew” he was a terrible person. negative parasocial relationships are just as dangerous as positive ones, if not more.

it happens all the time with celebrities, but imo the risk is a lot greater with the type of famous people who come across as “relatable” and “approachable.” and taika always has very much so been that. he’s never attempted to filter anything about himself. and there was a time where he benefited from that and people praised him for it and called him a breath of fresh air. but of course now that the internet has decided to hate him, by being himself, he’s “arrogant” and “immature” and “rude.”

i’ve said it before, but it’s very telling of taika’s character that he still has so many people in his life from 10-20 years ago. and not only that he continues to work with them, but just enjoys being around them. considering he could hang out with any a-lister he wants, keeping those kinds of connections is really important and i think it says a lot about what matters to him.

#asks #anon #taika waititi #parasocial behavior #gotta love when people prioritize needing to look like a good person over basic fact-checking

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violetthekiller · 2 days

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R&J review/scattered thoughts

both of us loved it! i sort of assumed i would due to me liking Jamie’s style and Romeo and Juliet as a play. my friend was slightly more sceptical going in but left having really enjoyed it

first thing i noticed and really liked was how they highlighted the days of the week on the screens. it really showed the audience just how fast the play moves and the fact that it’s literally over 4 days, something that often gets lost and forgotten in many adaptations but is such a key part of the dynamic and questions on whether it’s a story of lust or love

Tom’s version of Romeo was amazing. he played up to the patheticness of Romeo, how he’s a bit of a try hard and his desperation really well. saying all the right things, his slightly pushy body language with Juliet etc.

Fran as Juliet was beautiful. she brought an incredible vulnerableness to the character which is frequently left behind. it was a great contrast between her almost stillness and Romeo’s contradictory often chaotic character

Freema as the Nurse was my favourite surprise of a character. it’s an amazing version of the Nurse which is a large amount of the light relief in the first act but by the end of the second the facade had cracked and the close up of her crying talking to Juliet was (to me) the most emotional part of the play

I truly love how they played into the comedic elements of the play. despite it being Shakespeare’s most famous tragedy it has so many hilariously comedic moments (and in the words of my bestie ‘unhinged’) which are so frequently forgotten and not played into with modern adaptations, particularly darker versions like this one

the end of the play was an intriguing take. it’s normally depicted as hugely chaotic and dramatic with the double suicide however this version was extremely calm, particularly with Juliet whose often shown waking up screaming and killing herself very brashly and violently. however, the stillness worked. to me, from the scenes leading up to it and the final scene itself, it implied that this depiction of Juliet had already accepted her death. she wanted to die, so it wasn’t a tragic and brash choice for her to kill herself. one thing i think could’ve been interesting would’ve been to call back to the scene of them after the wedding night when they were lying on the floor. i thought it could’ve been cool to have them die in that position as a call back/foreshadowing from that scene (and it was a beautiful shot so would’ve loved to see it again lol)

now the couple of things that i felt weren’t quite amazing. firstly the pacing of the second act compared to the first felt very slow especially at the beginning. its bound to happen due to the latter half of the play having much longer dialog scenes with much less action however combining that with Jamie’s style of having large amounts of stillness and minimal movement made some of it feel rather long. secondly, both my friend and i have studied this play in detail however we both felt that if people didn’t know the play well or hadn’t ever seen a version of it, it may had been hard to follow at points. add the lack of plot summary in the program exacerbates this slightly. both very minor things but something we both noticed

we both loved it and i’m so happy i was able to get tickets to see it myself. anyone else whose going during the run you’re in for a treat :)

#i’ll probably have some more coherent thoughts tomorrow #but here’s the initial ones

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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 1 day

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How would they react if their crush shoved them out of the way to hug their friend instead of them (ALSOOO I LOVE UR WRITING AND I LITERALLY GET SO HAPPY WHEN YOU UPDATE UR BLOG EVEN WHEN ITS NOT ABT WRITING HCS ETC AT ALL)

Aww thanks, glad you like them! I kinda imagined the reader walking past instead of shoving them but here's them being ignored when they hold their arms out for a hug!

Takemichi- He has the saddest expression on his face, he looks like somebody just died (it was his happiness). This has literally ruined his whole day.

Mikey- Pouts, that wasn't very nice of you to just ignore him like that and no one ignores him. Immediately walks over to you to confront you about it, he wants to know why you just did that.

Draken- Frowns but shrugs and "moves on". Basically he doesn't let it show that it effects him but mentally he thinks about it all day.

Baji- Curses under his breath, he's going to go fight a bunch of guys to calm down now

Chifuyu- He looks like he's about to cry for a moment, he got his hopes up that he was going to get a hug only for you to walk straight past him. Vaguely wonders what he did wrong and decides to study more later (read manga).

Mitsuya- He's pretty chill about it, a bit shocked at first but mostly understands that you probably just didn't want a hug in that moment and that's ok.

Hakkai- Sighs in relief, he only did that because Yuzuha told him to (she knowd he likes you and is trying to get him to make a move already).

Pah- Frowns but assumes you just didn't see him, maybe he'll try again some other time.

Peh- He looks so sad for a moment but quickly shrugs it off. It probably doesn't mean anything right?

Smiley- His eyes snap open in surprise and his smile fades for a minute before he puts it back on. He spends the rest of the day muttering unhappily and seems to threaten more guys then usual.

Angry- Blinks as he takes in what just happened, he's disappointed but tries not to let it bother him so much. You walking past doesn't mean you hate him or anything.

Mucho- Calls your name and asks you about it, figures the direct approach is the best way to clear things up.

Sanzu- Says nothing but stares after you for a bit too long. Spends the rest of the day silently being annoyed, not with you though, he's annoyed with himself for hoping that would work.

Kisaki- He really didn't like that, spends a lot of time going over the scenario in his head over and over. He's trying to figure out where he went wrong and how to avoid it in the future.

Hanma- Oh you want to play games with him? He can play games with you too! Hugs you and introduces himself as your boyfriend to your friends, all while having a very smug grin on his face.

Kazutora- "oh..." he just kinda stares blankly the rest of the day, being more quiet then usual. He's upset but tries to hide it (doesn't do a great job).

Taiju- Says your name, calling out to you. He doesn't exactly yell but he says it loudly enough that it can be mistaken as yelling. Of course he's marching over to you to ask what that was about.

Koko- Pouts for a second before sticking his tongue out and acting like that didn't just bother him. He thinks about other ways he can win you over with later.

Inui- Shrugs and walks off, no one can actually tell if that bothered him or not. He's good at hiding his disappointment.

Izana- Frowns and tries to convince himself that he didn't want a hug anyway. Watches you very closely though, if you offer anyone else a hug then he's going to get a bit jealous. This also makes him want a hug even more, he plans to get one eventually.

Kakucho- He's a bit confused, he really thought that was going to work but it didn't. Worries that he did something to upset you.

Shion- Just stays standing there, he thinks you're coming back after you're done talking to your friend.

Ran- Sighs before walking after you, he stops quickly to whisper to you that you owe him now before he walks away, giving you a half hearted wave and smile before he disappears round the corner.

Rindou- He's just frowning a lot, frowns the rest of the day. But quickly says nothings wrong when Ran tries to question him.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev

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tohakumaru · 3 days

Text

climb the stairs, the nomad is with you.

it is futile. you know this is the end. and it's quite alright, you've always been alright.

the steps are sturdy and forgiving though the hill is steep. it is not so much a struggle, but it drags. this is fine, a funny thing about time is that it passes regardless. whether you want to or not, you arrive at a lonely tree, so tall it almost eclipses the sky.

the tree has no leaves, only dry branches covered in flowers with bright red petals, from which buds of cotton-white silks burst out like stars spilling their guts over the emptiness of space.

...

this shame you live with.

that night she sleeps with her hair caked in mud

a top-shelf doll sits crossed-hand, stuffed with fluff and bone-dry eyes

passing divine judgement, you could swear its lips curl into a knife

...

with soft crackling sounds, the trees rises from sleep. it crouches towards you: branches reach out to envelope you in a wiry embrace, and lift you up. it cradles you like a mother does a child. when your head comes to rest on a barren patch on the trunk, the tree shudders: from a thin crack in the balk a flower grows and blooms. five petals like the rest, but an empty core. you look on with no resistance as a thin stalk climbs your neck, hangs over your face, and creeps into your right eye. it pulls from the socket a silver thread and attaches one end to the centre of the flower, which swirls and spins, pulling the thread from you as it does.

it dawns on you that you are being unravelled, quite literally.

for a very, very long time, you lay there and wait for sleep to come. it seems fitting, the motion of the flower-spool and the unbelievable lightness of coming undone work like a lullaby. ebbs and flows and tells you to go. it is fine, it is quite alright, even if there's nothing waiting, not even judgement. you can leave.

… and yet… you are still awake. how long must this take?

as though in answer, the flower suddenly stops spining, the tree tenses up - there is a snag in the thread. the line tangled in clumps forming a face, vaguely resembles that which was once buried in a shallow grave in your mind. this one won't go.

is this supposed to happen?

you frantically look for the nomad, but it is too far down. the panic sets in, but you don't have limbs to squirm nor mouth to scream. you are terrified. please, i will think of something, there must be a way. i am so sorry. i… i don't know what to do. i am still here. forgive me, i am scared, too. what do we do, darling? talk to me, please. what can i do?

like a bad joke, a crescent tore the night sky apart. you take a moment to make out the wicked smile of the moon - ear to ear as it begins with a theatrical cough:

"here you are!

all out of sorts, i see.

well, i did say it was your loss.

too bad, i don't want it anymore. a shame really,

could have been a nice dream.

do what you wish, bird.

i'm just a moon."

me.

and with that, the moon is gone. for good now, you can tell. then, all is still and quiet as the branches set you down, your eyes fixed on the red petals that slowly wither and fall to the ground. the tree has gone back to sleep.

the nomad stares at you. an unreadable expression spreads across its face as it slowly leans over and pushes its palm straight into your chest. you feel no pain as it opens your ribcage, and sets your lungs aside. soft fingers roaming in search. eventually, they find a tiny pair of wings clinging to your auricle and gently pluck it from your heart. in the light, the nomad…holds…

…

how ironic. we'd spoken about us at the end of the world, and i'm so sorry, darling, but i guess this is the world at the end of us.

cold, and getting harder to breathe.

as my wings flutter in the nomad's palm, i see the sky so wide. it's so cold here. i miss you, miss the aching warmth of your hunger, free falling in your heart.

once upon a time. there was a hole in your chest where i laid dying. lack of faith, the prophet diagnosed with a gesture of grandeur - no cures for it, keep praying. the fool.

there was a tunnel in your mind where your dreams bled and your scouring love leaked into the cold, cold world. help, it hurts like hell, i heard you say. could have done something about it, i didn't. i let you bleed to death, i hung you out to dry.

on top of the root-hill at the bottom of the dreaming tree, a nomad sits with a sand-eaten corpse. in its small, child-like hand, a moth takes one last breath. nothing changes in the world, but something has ended. yet, as all good nomads know, a walk doesn't end until it is home-time. nomads are neither moons nor trees, and despite their wanderings, they care very much about warm beds, good night kisses, and happy endings. the greatest nomad of all time once implied by gestures something along the line of, fuck tragedies, i've had enough, and all the other nomads thought that was a quite good point.

darling?

i love you.

this nomad then carefully tucks the moth into its breastpocket, stands up, gathers all it can of the corpse into a blanket, which is then neatly tied and slung over its back. steadily, it descends the root-hill, passes the groves of living-statues, and continues a brisk pace on its journey. just a bit more now, you'll be home before tomorrow arrives, it hums silently./

#illustration #drawing #impossible nomad #writing #fiction #storytelling #art #kansas #the sleeping tree #dreams of wood #ocs #original works #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr

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smolcinnamonchipmunk · 2 days

Text

Mid-Fight Snack

(Elloooo. Been another while since I've been able to get around to posting actual stuff. I'd love to post or make more, but I have two animations I'm trying to work on and an entire cosplay that's taken up all my freebie because I don't know anything about sewing, lol. Obviously hasn't stopped me from thinking about Honkai a lot. Anyways, here's the Boothill vore writing finally! Hope it's not too bad, I'm a bit sleep deprived.)

Word count: 6233

TW/CW: Soft, safe m/nb G/t vore aaaaaand, I think that's literally it.

____________________________

“Behind ya, small-fry!” was about the only warning I had before being shouldered aside by a wall of metal, blinking in surprise as I spun around to see who just ran past me. I saw the retreating form of a very gray-toned humanoid with a red sash over their shoulder and white and black hair flaring out behind them as they ran, looking vaguely familiar. I squinted when I noticed the hat on their head. Was that the cowboy Dan Heng told us about that we met briefly in the Dreamscape?

I’d feel bad for not remembering his name if we hadn’t just barely met.

“Get back here!” was the only warning I had as I looked back at where the cowboy came from and saw a bunch of IPC personnel and robots charge around the corner towards him. And, in turn, me.

Having spent more time on the run than not in my time after joining the Express I ended up yelping and bolting down the hall after the cowboy. My footsteps were drowned out by the stampede of footsteps behind me and the sound of crashing and screaming ahead as the cowboy flung a few tables behind him as he passed, disturbing several guests and staff as he rushed past.

It wasn't until I rounded the corner after he turned down a hall that I realized that I probably should have just jumped out of the way because me running after the cowboy away from the IPC definitely made me look like an accomplice.

“Fucking damn it,” I hissed under my breath at the thought, jumping over the legs of another knocked over table. I realized too late that there was a couple still standing way too close on the other side but managed to avoid slamming into them. My shoe landed on a grape strewn on the carpet and I yelped as I almost slipped.

Narrowly avoiding faceplanting on the ground, I ended up straightening and locking eyes with the cowboy as he turned to look over his shoulder, seeing it widen slightly at seeing me. To be fair, I was only maybe twenty feet behind him compared to the IPC crowd that were chasing behind me still struggling with strewn furniture and passerbys.

My eyes widened as I saw something glint other than his exterior in his right hand, holding my hands slightly in front of me in a mock surrender to show that I was unarmed, quickly shouting, “I'm not IPC!”

“What the fudge are ya doing tailin’ me then?” the cowboy barked back at me, finger looking a bit too close to the trigger for my liking.

“I panicked when I saw the IPC guys running around the corner and it wasn't until I already started following that I realized I probably looked like-.”

“Criminal and accomplice west-bound towards main lobby elevators!” a robotic voice shouted behind us, one of the large, round robots that was way too quick for its size.

“Yeah, that,” I sighed, rolling my eyes and lowering my arms. It was weird holding my arms still while running.

All of IPC in the hotel probably knew about this chase. I only hoped that the Aventurine guy that almost cornered me in my room wouldn't show up. If fighting him in the dreamscape reflected anything about reality, I didn't want to be part of accidentally tearing the hotel apart fighting him to get away.

The cowboy stared intently at me for a second before growling low in his throat and holstering his gun with a flourishing twirl of his hand. I fully expected him to turn back forward and ignore me now that he determined I wasn't a threat, but instead he suddenly dropped pace to match me. He definitely was faster than me normally, but he’d been throwing so much stuff behind him and swerving through people that it slowed him a little whereas I was given almost clear passage in his wake.

“If you ain't IPC, why the fudge was your first thought at seeing these muddle-fudgers chasin’ after me to tag along,” he asked, voice sounding like he didn't fully believe I wasn't IPC.

“Well,” I replied, very glad that I had enough stamina to run and answer at the same time. I yelped when the cowboy suddenly twisted beside me, throwing down a tall potted plant as we ran around another corner, narrowly missing crashing into an elderly lady. “I haven't been around much, but everytime the Express has stopped somewhere there's been at least a couple times where we end up running from someone or something.

“Usually I'm with a group, so when you started running, my instinct was to follow like with them,” I finished sheepishly, looking to the side at him and almost startling. I'd been too focused on running to realize how fucking tall he was, needing to crane my neck a bit to look up at him.

“Well, fork me sideways and call me a son of a nice lady!” The cowboy exclaimed and laughed, showing off shark-like teeth. The eye not obscured by his hair glanced down and met my gaze for a moment, giving me a solid glimpse of dark gray iris with a red pupil and… was that a white crosshair in his eye? “You're one of them Astral folks with the Xianzhou fella!”

“And you must be the cowboy guy that broke onto the Express that Dan Heng told us about,” I blinked a bit at the realization, and a little at his odd speech patterns. One of the first things after waking up from the dreamscape being a check in with the other Astral Express crew with one of the weirdest things being Dan Heng messaging about how a cowboy got onto the Express. He had glossed over the fact that said cowboy showed up armed, but Pom Pom had been more than willing to share that fact in the chat. Looking back at the herd of IPC behind us, I asked, “Did you greet people at gunpoint again?”

“Where I come from, that’s just one of the many ways to say hello,” he chuckled. His face fell with mine as more IPC turned the corner at the end of the hall ahead while shouting, his expression turning into a scowl. Guests and staff alike glanced between the two walls of IPC personnel converging with us in the middle, most wisely making the decision to try and press against the walls or retreat back into their rooms to stay out of the way.

“Shit,” I started looking for other ways to turn, suddenly very much disliking the lengthy straight hallways. My eyes noticed a set of double doors to the right just as the cowboy shouted, “On the right!”.

I prepped myself to manifest my baseball bat to slam through the doors but the cowboy reached them first, sprinting ahead and spinning around to slam the back of his boot spur-first against the weak point of the handle. I’m not even sure if the doors had been locked, but I was glad we were both on the same page of better safe than sorry.

“After you, darlin’,” the cowboy paused just long enough to let me through first and I heard the rattling click of loading ammo as I passed, presumably taking out his gun again, the sound of his heels trailing behind on the carpet behind me.

“’Ppreciated, cowboy!”

I slowed slightly as the hallway ended up being incredibly short, leading to an expansive open area with tiled floor that we definitely only had a few seconds to take stock of before the IPC after us would start trickling in. Several types of gambling tables and a bar were in here, with a few scattered sitting areas with tables and luxurious plush chairs, and at least one pool table with the only thing breaking up the entire space being supporting pillars and various lamps or potted plants decorating the place.

At least a dozen eyes looked towards us as we ran in and I booked it towards what looked like the clearest path through the lounge, shouting, “Don’t mind us, just passing through!”

A crash behind me made me jolt and look behind myself, seeing the cowboy flip over a table as we ran by, scattering gambling chips, cards, and glasses of alcohol all over the ground as the people around the table scattered. Patrons started getting up and moving as far from us as possible, some making their way to the exits. Which, from the other sounds behind us, the exit where we came in was starting to be blocked by incoming IPC.

“Do you have to keep knocking shit over,” I asked, trying to temper some giddiness as I glanced back, the cowboy looking behind him with a smirk towards the exit. I saw a few of the smaller IPC run in from the short hall. “I like destruction too, but that wasn’t even in the way.”

The cowboy looked undeterred by my comment, seeming to be having fun with this chase. “Helps slow ‘em down.”

I scoffed in amusement as I turned my attention back forward, eyes widening at the sight of more IPC starting to pour in at the other end of the lounge. Glancing around for another exit that the two obvious ones I commented, “I don’t think slowing them down’ll help any when we’re blocked in!”

My shoes slid on the tile beneath me as I skid to a halt, the cowboy stopping only a second after me and overshooting me by a couple feet. His gun was already in hand, head turning as he also seemed to take stock of the room to see if there was a way to wriggle out of the situation. Unfortunately, it looked like the two exits the IPC came in from were the only ones to the lounge, leaving us cornered as the space filled with IPC personnel and robots.

“Hands in the air,” one of the larger bots demanded, probably carrying a high rank among the group. A bunch of them lifted rifles and guns to aim at us, the rest held large staffs with a glowing orange end for electrocuting. The other larger bots in the group lifted the yellow shields they had on their left arms while the one that spoke to us added, “And drop your weapons! You’re both going into IPC custody.

“You.” - the robot pointed to the cowboy, who raised his hands up without dropping his gun - “For a list of crimes that would have us here all day if I listed them all. And you-.”

I raised my arms slowly with the cowboy and narrowed my eyes at the robot as it gestured to me. I felt tense, internally coiled up like a snake ready to strike. I had a feeling that Criminal Cowboy wouldn’t be going without a fight, and neither was I. Question was just when to start and he seemed experienced enough with this that I was going to let him make the first move to avoid fucking it up for him.

“-for aiding and abetting a wanted criminal,” the robot concluded. Lowering its arm from pointing at us it gestured to one of the grunts, who produced a pair of glowing handcuffs and presumably had more. “Now, drop your weapon! I won’t be asking nicely a third time.”

“Heh,” the cowboy let out an amused exhale. “This ain’t my first showdown. But I’ll play your little game.”

I watched the cowboy intently as he loosened the grip on his gun until it started sliding out of his grip, dropping towards the tiled ground. My breath hitched in my throat in anticipation, seeing a few of the IPC around us relax slightly.

With a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it fluidity, the cowboy raised his left hand as his fingers contorted, shooting at the chest of the leader bot and striking true through its carapace. In almost the same moment his right leg shifted, the toe of his boot catching the dropped pistol and flicking his ankle up to throw it back into the air where he caught it in a twirl with his right hand.

“Get somewhere safe,” the cowboy said as the leader bot sparked and began to fall. He fired off another shot before the first even hit the ground, taking out two grunts that had been standing in an unfortunate overlap. Looking down at me, he had a wild grin on his face while the red in his eyes glowed. “I’ll handle these muddle-fudgers and find ya when the dust settles. Now, bring it on, baby!”

Without waiting for a response, he spun on his heel and popped off a couple more shots as the crowd of IPC jostled out of their shock. A couple peeled off and retreated from the room in a flight response but most immediately trained their attention on the cowboy as he charged towards the nearest cluster, giving another grunt an introduction to the back of his heel with a spur to the face.

“Oh, hell no,” I said to myself, focusing on the energy inside myself and felt my hands tingle as a black baseball bat manifested within my grasp, arcs of energy crackling off of it and my hands before dissipating. With almost everyone focusing on the cowboy bobbing around and firing shots, it was almost too easy for me to rush up behind about four people and wack them over the head before I also started getting some attention from the closest IPC personnel.

I had to roll out of the way of a grunt swinging a staff at my face, twisting to the side and tumbling before popping back up to my feet, darting around a pillar to hit someone else while shouting, “Staffs are a bit better when you’re not THAT close!”

With a bunch of IPC also now firing their guns, I didn’t notice the pause in the particular metal twangs from the cowboy’s pistol until I heard, “Son of a-, I told you to get somewhere safe!”

Looking over to where he dodged a few IPC bullets I saw him quick reload while glancing me up and down like he was reassessing me. I felt a surge of satisfaction and spite, running towards a few more IPC members and charging my bat up before swinging it in a sideways arc to hit three of them with a crackling smack that bowled over all three to the ground. Dodging a couple rounds myself, I kicked over one of the gambling tables and crouched behind it as I retorted, “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy! I can handle a knock around or two!”

“Fork, color me surprised, small-fry,” the cowboy chuckled, doing an impressive twirl to shoot one of the grunts with a rifle. Two grunts with staffs rushed forward to try and do some sort of pincer move on him but he jumped into the air and backflipped onto a pool table. He tilted his head in my direction and tipped his hat with his left hand. “I feel like a right ash-vole underestimatin’ ya.”

I opened my mouth to reply even as he turned his attention to some more ground grunts running at him with staffs, noticing movement behind him. A couple riflemen were peeking up from behind the counter of the bar, both shifting like they were talking amongst themselves. One rifleman jerked their head towards the standing cowboy and the other looked like they hesitated before slowly raising the barrel to aim at the cowboy’s torso while the other rifleman watched with their own rifle slightly over the counter.

“Hold still, you,” an angry robotic voice sounded on my right, one of the standing large bots about twenty feet away. Its entire body shook as compartments in its shoulders opened and it released a couple rounds in my direction.

Yelping at the sight, I hopped over the table I was crouched behind and weaved towards the cowboy as I warned, “Rifle behind you! I got the staff guys!”

Explosives went off where I had just been, no doubt destroying the unfortunate table. The cowboy looked towards me at my outburst then scowled and spun around, firing off a shot at the rifleman aiming at him. The first hit the counter but a quick second shot knocked the rifleman out of the game, the other ducking back beneath the bar counter.

Running up to the grunts trying to charge the pool table I conducted energy into my bat again, swinging another arc to get a cluster of them before singling out the last couple. Huffing, I straightened just in time to see the cowboy shoot off again towards the bar, the bullet ricocheting off the shelves behind the counter just right to hit the hiding rifleman that you could see in the behind the bar mirror.

“Nice shot,” I said, extremely impressed at his marksmanship. I tried shooting a rifle after a fight on Belebog once and was immediately berated by Dan Heng when the shot went wild due to inexperience.

“Plenty more where that came from,” the cowboy smirked, tumbling off the pool table and firing off another shot from his left hand, hearing the creaking and fall of another large bot. “We'll have the rest of these muddle-fudgers cleaned up in no ti-.”

"In here!"

Both of us turned our attention towards the loud shout, noticing the sound of more footsteps from both exits to the lounge. I didn't realize that some of the remaining IPC personnel had run off, probably one of them or the ones that retreated at the start of the fight calling for back up. And it looked like it unfortunately arrived.

The grunts still in the lounge looked at each other before switching from a more disheartened and intimidated demeanor to a rejuvenated stance at hearing the fresh onslaught of IPC coming to help.

"I think we might want to reassess that statement there, cowboy," I tossed my head to the side with a groan. I rotated my shoulders to try and loosen them a bit before rushing forward toward the grunts still in the lounge. I noticed one of them raise their rifle towards me and prepared to dodge, but a few shots from behind me went off and both the rifleman and a couple other grunts were thrown back to the ground.

Charging between a couple of the other personnel, I grunted as a staff clocked me in the back after taking out one, two, three IPC with my baseball bat, a jolt running up my spine from the active orange staff-end striking against me. It made my tumble out of the way a bit janky, rolling to a crouch right as a bullet struck the tile a bit too close to me and I looked up to see more IPC pouring in from the lounge exits.

“Put your hands in the air!” multiple IPC shouted, barely coherent over the chatter of their fellows who barked out commands and orders.

"Fucking- this place is supposed to be relaxing!" I rolled and sprinted between tables and pillars as a barrage of bullets came towards both the cowboy and I. Running behind a pillar I did a hard pivot to run back out on the same side to catch the IPC off guard, able to weave through and hit a few. "I don't think I've relaxed the entire fucking time I've been at this stupid hotel!

“In the month or so I’ve been cognizant,” a wall of yellow almost slammed into me, yelping as I barely managed to jump up in time to tumble over one of the large bot shields instead of being slammed by it and chucked across the room as it swung at me. I tried to distance myself from it for now, wacking a rifleman on the head as I ran by. “-we’ve gotten two days without fighting or dealing with stupid diplomacy! MAYBE!”

Tumbling beneath another swinging staff, I bounced back to my feet and spun around to conduct an arc of crackling energy behind me to throw back the nearest IPC, three dropping to the ground and one flinching as a residual spark lashed out at them. I almost slammed into a wall of metal as I spun around to keep running, about to raise my bat to swing at them before realizing it was the cowboy I'd stumbled into, firing off an entire round of bullets at the crowd with audible success.

"Quit yappin'!" the cowboy growled, flicking his pistol to the side to empty the chamber of empty shells that clattered on the tile. His tone was gruff but he was looking way too pleased about the fight prolonging. "Or you'll find yerself diggin' your own grave!"

"I'll bitch in the middle of a fight if I want," I retorted, gaze flicking from looking up at the cowboy towards more movement. A grunt rushed forward to try and take advantage of the cowboy quick reloading, and I saw him shift to probably give another kick to the IPCs skull but I darted around him and swung upwards to clock them in the jaw. “It’s cathartic! Heads up!”

The IPC fell back to the ground and I used the cowboy as a bit of a pillar to move around, backpedaling to avoid another staff swing from a grunt that was promptly shot.

“Nice shot,” I complimented the cowboy before running out from his reach again. I started getting into a good flow of rushing off, smacking a few IPC and then either finding my next target or kiting someone around for the cowboy to take out. Anyone who tried to bumrush me or run away had to deal with a bullet, and anyone who tried to get too close to the cowboy earned a fast pass for a bat to the face.

Something felt off the longer the fight went on, but I ignored it in favor of surviving. I was definitely kind of tired and I’d be sore after this, but it wasn’t anything I hadn’t dealt with.

One of the larger bots lumbered towards the cowboy with its shield raised, blocking the bullets that were fired off in its direction. Narrowing my focus onto it, I hit a couple grunts on the way as I dashed towards it, jumping on a nearby pool table to jump high enough to jump over the robots shield. I focused on my bat and channeled as much energy as I could into it, swinging it down on top of its head as I landed on its back.

The entire thing spasmed beneath me as its carapace dented from the impact and energy crackled through it, overloading its system. My eyes widened a little as I realized what the off feeling that was growing was, thinking that I was incredibly lucky to have lasted this long but also thinking that now was the WORST time for this to happen any minute.

“Uh, hey, cowboy!” I shouted down, hopping off the robot as it fell forward. A grunt tried to intercept me but I beat them off with a “Fuck off, dude, I’m busy!” as I trotted up to another group near the cowboy and started wacking them. “Uh, cowboy?”

“Kind of busy shootin’ sons of nice ladies, small-fry!” the cowboy replied, firing off a couple more shots before looking towards me. “Whaddya need?”

“So, I kind of have this… condition,” I hesitantly answered, grabbing a pool ball and smacking it with my baseball bat into the mask of an IPC grunt.

“Wha- are you forkin’ kiddin’ me?!” he snapped with an anger that caught me entirely off guard and would have led to me getting bodied if he didn’t shoot at the IPC nearest to me. “You wanna talk about some kind of forking terms and conditions while we’re in the middle of a muddle-fudging battle with IPC shirt-for-brains?!”

“What? No- No, what the fuck are you talking about? I’m talking about, like, medical conditions.”

“Aw shucks, ma bad.” The cowboy went from angry to apologetic fairly fast, though his voice was still tense as he continued firing. “Could yer condition wait until after we handle these forkers?”

“I don’t think so,” I replied, wacking another grunt. I felt mildly useless trying to stay relatively close to the cowboy because IPC was thinning around him, but I also didn’t want to charge out and get stepped on. I could feel my chest strain more as the Stellaron struggled to maintain my current size.“Unless you happen to have some Antimatter on you, which I highly doubt-.”

“Antimatter?” the cowboy asked in surprise.

“-then I’m just gonna need you to catch me before I hit the ground any minute now,” I finished, distracted trying to gauge the cowboy’s reaction. I didn’t notice the sound of footsteps that were closer than any of the other footsteps in the room, yelping when a sudden massive surge of electricity jolted through my side. With a fair amount of difficulty, I swung out at the grunt who hit me with a staff with an explosive charge of energy through the conduit of my bat.

It knocked them away successfully and allowed me a couple seconds for my body to handle the electrical charge going through it, but I both felt and saw that the Stellaron had reached its limit of maintaining my form, a couple of stray arcs of energy dissipating from my fingertips and bat glitching before disappearing from my grasp.

“Wuh oh.”

Like a star collapsing on itself, I yelped as one last burst of energy flared out from my body like a flashbang, finding myself only a couple inches tall a few feet in the air as my form collapsed and shrunk into my centerpoint.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, bracing myself to impact the tile floor below. It was a survivable fall due to my durability, but it definitely wouldn’t be a pleasant one, knowing from personal experience with a lot of soreness and bruising. However I found myself stopping short of the ground, hitting an arguably harder surface as I was scooped from the air in a metal hand. I was a bit dazed from the impact, not very helped by the cowboy being naturally loud.

“Well, holy forkeroni,” the cowboy said, grey and red eye zeroed in on me in his palm as I sat up. His attention was briefly pulled away and I was jostled as he spun and fired off a couple rounds while dodging a few IPC bullets. “That all ya got, you shirt-for-brains?! Yer ‘bout knee-high to a grasshopper, small-fry!”

“I- sure? I guess? Is there anywhere around where you could either put me down or maybe just get out of here,” I asked, trying to shake off the vertigo and look around to find a safe spot or clear route for him but he was moving too much for me to see well.

“Not with all these forkers ‘round, and I need both my darn hands to fudging deal with ‘em. Tch, hang on.”

“Al-right!” The last half of the word was a yelp as his hand lifted suddenly, making my stomach drop and causing a wave of dizziness as the force messed with the blood flow to my head. Blinking it away, my vision was once more shifted as I was tossed a brief moment into something. The sudden sequence of motion and change in scenery had me instinctively manifesting my baseball bat again, stopping the area around me from closing.

Gravity shifted around me again as I barely managed to hold onto my bat with one hand, my left shoulder straining as all my weight came down on it, falling from whatever small, dark area I'd nearly been tossed into. It wasn't until I noticed the two rows of massive, sharp teeth on either side of my bat and heard the surprised noise from the cowboy that I realized he'd just tried to toss me in his mouth.

“Aeon ‘arn it, ‘all-’ry! Ah-n ‘ryna ‘elp ya,” the cowboy mumbled loudly around the baseball bat currently locking his jaws open. His left hand was cupped beneath me, poised to catch me if I fell, and I saw fingers twitch like he was debating how to go about this.

Well, if I'd been given any sort of heads up, I wouldn't have ended up panicking as much as I had. There'd been an odd abundance of me being put in mouths, but this was probably the most chaotic and fast-paced to date.

“Nngh, hold on,” I said, trying to pull myself up enough to grab the bat with my right hand. Extremely difficult with him still running. A noise escaped my throat as his hand surged upwards, uncertain to what he was doing as I felt the tips of his index, middle, and thumb fingers press against my back.

My world blurred as the cowboy suddenly halted on his heel and spun to avoid what I could only guess was a swing from a staff from the streak of grey and orange that streaked by. In the simultaneous moment that a gunshot went off so close that it could only be from the cowboy I found my grip forced from the baseball bat as the fingertips against my back pinched the back of my hoodie and yanked me from the two walls of teeth that were now below as I was lifted from the cowboy’s face.

With the most still thing in comparison to everything else being the cowboy, it was incredibly easy for me to focus on his jaws as they snapped shut around my tiny baseball bat, the manifestation shattering between the shark teeth and dissipating into cosmic sparks.

I caught a brief glimpse of the cowboy smiling before he opened wide again and I found myself popped inside before I could really process anything past the daze of being jostled around so much. In fact, it was almost a relief when the pseudo-bone clicked close behind me, allowing me a reprieve from the chaos of being dangled around and shot at.

It was warm and humid with the tongue beneath me surprisingly soft considering the mechanical nature of its host. It wasn't offensively pungent but the space smelt of oil, grease, and other more chemical scents that brought to mind repairing robots in Belebog.

Something clung to me like saliva, likely some kind of lubricant.

I was expecting some amount of tasting or slickening up considering that was necessary - to a point - so that whoever was eating me wouldn’t end up choking on me. But, I guess it wasn’t needed for the cyborg because I instantly found the space around me tilting.

“A-Ack, give me a mom-ent,” I yelped out as the tongue flexed beneath me in preparation for the imminent swallow, squashing me flat against the roof of his mouth. I was barely given a split second as the tongue pushed me back and I felt the throat entrance seize around my ankles in a gulp.

I'm not even sure if his throat actually made the sound of the swallow around me or if it was just a habitual noise from his voice box, carrying a slightly robotic undertone like when he spoke.

As I was pulled into the embrace of his gullet, it felt bizarrely close to being eaten by, for lack of a better term, an organic person. Whatever material that lined his throat was just as claustrophobic as a normal esophagus and almost as pliable as actual flesh. From what little I could gather from the small amount of exposed skin I had, it felt like some sort of rubber.

The cowboy didn't reply to me and I was barely out of his mouth when he exhaled around me with a gruff growl, my surroundings rumbling as he shouted, “‘lright, you muddle-fudgers! Let's forkin’ finish this!”

He was, understandably, far more concerned with fighting the remaining IPC. However, I feel like my ears would have burst if I had been a normal human.

“Which one of you shirt-bags wants to be first in line for a bullet?!”

I felt his body shift and twist chaotically as I slipped past what constituted his collarbone, everything muffling a bit from layers of metal and whatever a mechanical creature would count as internal organs. It was definitely surreal.

It got warmer the deeper I was pulled down like the insides of someone organic, but less slimy or stuffy. Instead of slipping past a beating heart and the breathing of lungs, the somewhat muffled chaos outside overplayed with the sound of whirring fans and mechanical parts shifting against each other as the cowboy moved erratically.

It wasn't long before I was ejected from the relative sturdiness of his esophagus. I didn't realize how much the cowboy was running and dodging until I slipped into a small chamber and immediately started being bounced around the space like a ping pong ball.

Fortunately, it seemed like the walls were made of the same flexible material at his throat. Unfortunately, the space wasn't completely empty. I felt other… bits bounce around with me, unable to make heads or tails of any of it while essentially inside the living bouncy house.

I'm not sure how long I spent tumbling around as the cowboy shouted mother-sanctioned insults at the IPC and fired shot after shot while I can only assume backflipping the entire time based on how much I was being shaken. Eventually, everything stopped and I was flopped onto the floor of the chamber. I felt like I was going to get bruises in places where I didn't even think bruises were possible.

“Ah, hell. You aight in there, small-fry?” I was pulled from my dazed stupor by one side of the chamber being pushed in slightly and the cowboys voice above. For someone who, in the minutes I'd known him, seemed reckless and unabashedly brazen he actually sounded a bit sheepish. “Reck’n I prolly shook you up more than the tail end of a rattler.”

“You’re fine,” I replied, slowly pushing myself off the floor of the chamber. Something gritty clung to my hands with the help of lubricant and whatever other small puddle of liquid that shared the space with me. I flicked my hands in instinctive disgust to try and get rid of the feeling.

“You're takin’ this pretty well.”

“This ain't the first time I've been eaten,” I sighed as I mustered the energy to summon a spark to take stock of my surroundings now that I wasn't tumbling around everywhere. “Definitely the most chaotic though.”

“What the fridge? I woulda thought that your biggest concern woulda been finding yerself under some ash-voles boot,” I felt the space begin to shift and sway as I looked around, probably from him starting to walk or something. The walls were dark gray and seemed to be made of the same rubbery material as his throat, and around me was a thin coating of some kind of thick, grainy, gray substance that had the glint of metal scattered around.

That explained the shallow cuts I could see on my hands now.

“I can't say that being stepped on hasn't been a concern,” I replied, frowning in confusion at the gritty stuff around me. Spurred on by curiosity I ran my finger through the substance and gave it a cautious sniff. I'd noticed the somewhat pungent scent permeating the space but wasn't able to recognize what it was until I got a closer smell. Dulled by the potent sting of what smelled like malt juice diluted by lubricant, the grains smelt of something that reminded me of explosives, I scrunched my face in confused surprise. “Is this fucking GUNPOWDER?!”

“Mmmhm,” the cowboy let out a pleased hum like remembering a particularly delicious snack. “Nine millimeter, baby. Had a couple earlier. Might sorry ‘bout the clutter, but didn't exactly have time to clean house before fighting the muddle-fudgin’ IPC.”

“I… I don't know what I was expecting a cyborg to eat, but it wasn't bullets,” I sighed, cleaning my hand off on my jacket. “Eh, whatever. Can you let me out and help me get to the Astral Express please?”

“Ehhh,” the space tilted and squished a little, only able to assume that he crouched down. Guessing the guys habits, I wouldn't be surprised if he was seeing if any of the IPC had anything worthwhile on them. “I can take you to your train, but ya might need a mechanic.”

“Wait, what? Why?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“‘Cause I can't just make myself vomit on command,” the cowboy replied, able to feel him stand up. “So unless your folks have a mechanic or something to make me spit ya out, we might be stuck up a shirt creek without a paddle until I come across another mechanic.”

I blinked in the dark space, part of me appalled at the news. However, this was weirdly enough also not my first time stuck inside someone who couldn't just cough me up considering Sampo.

“Please, for the love of the Aeons, just get to the train and find Dan Heng.”

#cinnwrites #g/t #safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #nova #honkai star fail #boothill

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