#screaming at clouds type post

[zeravmeta]

nichest of niche complaints of a hyper specific topic but im tired of pokemon youtubers treating the gen 3 regi braille puzzle as some inconceivable mystical thing that no child could have ever solved. like not only did the original box include a fucking braille guide but goddamn dude you really think braille is such an insane thing for children to grasp? im sorry a language made for disability access for blind/visually impaired people is so ludicrous to you that you think a child couldn't understand

[glitterynebulas]

soriku kh4 reunion angst thoughts

[merpdaberp]

I disagree with people defending the Chameleon's Backstory

So when Kung Fu Panda 4 came out there was a lot of mixed reception from fans. Some hated it, some liked it or loved it, and others found it fine.

Personally, I think it's fine, I don't hate it, but I don't like it either. It could've been worse and could've been better.

One thing that always bugs me about fans defending the chameleon's backstory is that keep mentioning the shorts and one animator saying not all dojos were as excepting. Which I have several issues.

1. We don't know if the shorts are canon or not. The shorts are character backstories. Especially in the secrets of the Furious Five and secrets of the scrolls. Fans would mention how some of the dojos didn't accept or respect certain species. They bring up Crane not being accepted because he is skinny and looks weak. That sure is fair enough. But the thing is in the same short we have Mantis kicking ass! Now we don't know much about how Mantis learned Kung Fu. This is another thing I'm skeptical of in the shorts especially Secrets of the Furious Five, as it was Po telling the stories as lessons to kids. So we don't know how accurate they are.

Then we have the secrets of the scrolls. People also brought up but it doesn't make sense as an argument. Like Shifu is a master and he's also small. We even see other Red Panda masters. People say when he gets mad at seeing the five as an example. But people missed the point. He was not mad because they were different species; he's mad because they weren't the people he asked for.

My rule is if it ain't in the actual movie then it ain't canon or brought up at all. Unless DreamWorks actually says they are canon but they haven't. Btw I like the shorts but I wouldn't take them too seriously.

2. People keep bringing up one animator on Twitter who says that not all dojos are as accepting as the Jade Palace. That would've been fine but like, the issue is that it's one animator.

We haven't heard from the others and not even the writers. Also, they said that Secrets of the Scrolls is canon. But my criticism is that she only worked on the fourth movie and not the previous ones. Unless it's her personal opinion or headcanon. But like I said if it ain't in the movie, it does not count. I wouldn't mind it if we saw a flashback to see it happen, but we never did.

Edit: I should also mention that there might be biases, as it is an actual animator, so of course they would defend their work but there also a Kung Fu Panda fan. I do not hate Abbey, btw, I just think we shouldn't take their word for it. The context was someone asking who would defeat Death from The Last Wish and the Chameleon. Abbey tried to explain it and gave a backstory that was never in the film. As a KFP fan, she used the shorts to explain it.

Now, as I said, there's nothing wrong with that; I just have an issue with certain fans using it to explain the chameleons' backstory. Especially since it's only one person saying it.

3. Even if the dojos rejected Chameleon because of her size. It still doesn't make sense because we already have canonically small masters. Like, we literally have a Master Rat that leads an army. We knew this because we saw the army's battle helmet at the Jade Palace in the third movie.

Heck, even in 4 Po mentions a Master Chipmunk. So how unlucky does the Chameleon to find the right dojo? There are probably dojos out there who specifically train small animals. Heck we even saw them in Secrets of the Scrolls of red panda masters (I know I just repeated myself)

So that's why I disagree with some fans. I feel like they're trying to make it sense in their heads, which is fine, but they acted as if this stuff was in the movie? Like in the film, Chameleons just said she was rejected because how small and lowly. Nothing else to flesh it out.

Edit 2: It's a big thing fandoms using fan theories and headcanons to fill in missing information, but using it to try to explain to another fan why their criticism is wrong. But that's not a good way to do it? Especially is you have much evidence to back it up and it seems more like they're just making it up, or just coping. I just hate when fans do that.

So that was my rant and stuff. I gotta go to bed. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

[ellewritesx]

cabin pressure

Summary: He's your boss. You're his assistant. But 30,000 feet in the air, it's not exactly tour logistics he's asking you to handle.

Warnings: fingering, handjob, public sex, slight praise kink, a little bit of dom!Harry

A/N: thanks for the love on my first fic! this is the first smutty fic i've written, so you know the drill; don't take it too seriously. let me know if i've forgotten any warnings or if you'd like a part two because i've got some ideas ;) enjoy x

Word Count: 3,329

...

The cabin rumbles with a soft, steady vibration beneath your feet, the kind that settles in your bones after a while, a quiet reminder that you're thirty-thousand feet in the air with nothing but a view of the top of the clouds outside the window.

You've gotten so used to plane rides that they feel like buses now.

Life on the road tended to blur together after a while. Cities changed, skies shifted, but the routine stayed mostly the same: wake, work, soundcheck, show, sleep. Rinse and repeat. But somewhere in that loop, magic lived. The sound of a crowd screaming in the moments before Harry took the stage. The quiet backstage hum of instruments being tuned. The weird little moments, like brushing your teeth next to Harry in the bathroom of a green room or eating post-show ramen in sweatpants with the crew at 2 a.m. It wasn't glamorous, not always. But it was real. And weirdly beautiful.

But right now, there's no excited chatter echoing off the polished surfaces, no quiet strumming of an instrument, no 5-minute calls. Just the soft roaring of the engine and the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep behind a curtain. It's late and you're flying somewhere above the Atlantic, everyone tucked away for the red-eye haul to Lisbon.

Except you.

And Harry.

You're curled up beside him in the plush leather seat, a warm blanket draped over the both of you, your laptop balanced on your thighs, the screen casting a faint glow across your face. The soft click of the trackpad is the only sound between you as you scroll through the updated tour logistics: merch drop schedules, radio interviews, VIP timetables, revised set list cues...

You're focused. Professional. And painfully aware of how close Harry's knee is to yours.

''Alright,'' you speak up softly, not looking at him. ''I just need your input on the new Paris VIP plan. They want to add a backstage Q&A before soundcheck, only thirty minutes, but it overlaps with your press block. I told them I'd check with you first.''

Harry's quiet for a beat. You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, even though you're pretending not to.

''What do you think I should do?'' he asks eventually, voice low, almost sleepy.

Your stomach tightens. He does that often. Asks for your thoughts, your judgement, like he actually values your opinion. You try to ignore the way it makes your stomach churn and remind yourself that this is in your job description.

''I think we should move the press slot,'' you say, typing a note quickly. ''You'll have more time to reset before soundcheck that way. And you like talking to the fans. You always leave in a better mood.''

He huffs a quiet laugh. ''You pay attention to my mood, do you?''

Shit.

You blink at your screen, then glance over at him. He's leaning against the armrest, hoodie sleeves pushed up, tattoos half-hidden in the soft light. One rogue curl has graciously fallen above his brow and his lips are tilted in the barest smirk.

''Comes with the territory,'' you say quickly, like it's no big deal. ''I need to know when to avoid you.''

That makes him laugh, low and raspy, making you bite the inside of your cheek as you look back at your screen. It's fine. You're fine.

You've been his personal assistant for over a year now. You've memorized his schedule, his allergies, his coffee order and the name of the plushie he brings on tour, despite vehemently denying it. You know when he's tense, when he needs quiet, when he needs to be left alone. You're loyal, always. Unshakable.

And hopelessly, stupidly, quietly in love with him.

But he doesn't know that. Can't know that. You're too good at your job for that kind of mistake.

And you love your job. There was something electric about being on tour: the long nights, the endless movement, the rush of showtime. You loved the chaos of it all, how no two days were the same. You loved the adrenaline that kicked in when a last-minute change had to be made, and you were the one everyone looked to for the fix. It gave you purpose, grounding. And honestly, you thrived in it.

Even in the exhausting moments, the jet lag, the back-to-back shows, the late-night emails... you never once regretted taking this job. Being around music, around the team, around him, made everything worth it.

You'd slipped into the rhythm of the tour crew like you'd been part of it for years. There was something comforting about the way everyone moved together, the shared glances, the inside jokes, the group breakfasts in hotel lobbies.

You were the youngest on the team, but nobody made you feel small. They trusted you, and more importantly, they liked you. Jeff always brought you coffee when you looked like hell. Pauli made you laugh when you were wound too tight. It felt like family. Loud, messy, and wildly dysfunctional, but it was yours.

And Harry's an incredible boss, to nobody's surprise. He was thoughtful. Kind. A little quiet in meetings, but always listening. Always noticing. He never barked orders, he asked, genuinely. And when he thanked you for something, it wasn't in that empty, offhanded way people often do. He meant it. You could feel it in the way he said your name. It made you want to work harder, not out of obligation, but because he deserved that kind of loyalty.

''I should finish this before we land,'' you murmur, starting to scroll again. ''Still need to go through wardrobe notes for Madrid.''

You don't notice the way he watches you, how his gaze trails from focused eyes down to your parted lips, how he swallows when your fingers twitch on the keyboard.

''You never let me help,'' he points out softly, drawing your attention back to him.

You blink. ''Help with…?''

''Any of this,'' he gestures toward your screen. ''You do everything. Handle everything. I don't know how you're not burnt out yet.''

''I'm your assistant. It's kind of my job, Harry,'' you say with a soft chuckle and a slight tilt of your head, confused.

''You're the best assistant I've ever had,'' he hums, eyes dark.

Something about the way he says it makes your heart stutter.

You weren't sure when it happened exactly, when your feelings shifted, digging deeper into your skin than just a work relationship. Maybe it was the night in Atlanta when he stayed behind after everyone left the venue just to help you find your clipboard, calming you with hushed reassurances as you spiraled.

Or maybe it was how he never let anyone talk over you in meetings, always circling back to your points, asking what you thought. It was slow, creeping, this ache in your chest every time he smiled at you like he knew you, really knew you. You told yourself it would pass.

But that night in Austin you'd known. You'll never forget the way your breath had caught in your throat.

The setlist had already been printed, laminated, sent to every team lead. Your favorite song, a deep cut he rarely performed, wasn't on it. It never was. But during the encore, he looked over his shoulder at you backstage, smirked, and softly said into the mic, ''Think I'll do one more.'' And just like that, he launched into it.

When he sang the bridge, his eyes finding yours for a split second in the wings, it had felt like a secret. Like he was saying, I see you. I know, and you'd known you'd never be the same after that.

''Don't say things like that,'' you say quietly, forcing a smile. ''I might start thinking you actually like me,'' you joke, a futile attempt to lighten the tension that's suddenly growing between you.

There's a pause. Too long. You risk a glance at him, only to find him already looking at you.

''I do,'' he says.

Just that. Without a teasing lilt to his tone, or the shit-eating grin he usually wears that tells you he's just messing with you.

Your breath catches. Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. ''Harry…''

''I know.'' He looks away quickly, tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. ''I shouldn't have said that. You're… important. To me. To the crew. I can't mess that up.''

The silence that follows is loud. You can hear your heart pounding. Feel the ache in your chest, years of unspoken want stretching tight between you.

You glance up at him. And for the first time in months, you let yourself see it. The flushed pink at the tips of his ears. The subtle quickening of his breathing. The way his hand flexes on his thigh like he's stopping himself from reaching for you.

His gaze drops to your lips.

''You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you,'' he says suddenly, voice barely a whisper, like he doesn't even realize he's saying it out loud.

Your mouth goes dry.

''So why haven't you?'', you whisper. He blinks like he hadn't expected the question.

Then, quietly, he says, ''Because I can't lose you. I reckon the team would fall apart without you. You're too good at your job for me to screw it up... just so I could finally have you.''

You can't breathe. Not when he's looking at you like that. And still, even now, you almost chicken out. Almost.

But then your voice breaks through the thick silence, soft and unsteady.

''What if I said I wanted you to?''

His jaw tenses.

You feel it before you see it, the moment he snaps. Quietly, calmly, but undeniably.

His hand slides over your laptop, closes it, and sets it aside.

''Then come here,'' he says, voice low and dark. ''And let me show you how long I've been waiting.''

And suddenly, you're not just sitting beside your boss anymore. You're alone (well, you're shielded from the rest of the cabin by only a curtain, but close enough) with the man who's been undressing you with his eyes for months. Who knows what you look like on two hours of sleep. Who knows your parents' birthdays, your calendar, the way your lips part when you're concentrating too hard.

And now, you swear he knows the exact second your thighs press together under the blanket.

You hesitate.

Not because you don't want him. God, you want him. But the rest of the crew is right there, just past the curtain. His manager's asleep two rows in front of you. Someone else stirs faintly behind you.

''Harry,'' you whisper, panic tugging at your voice. ''There are people.''

''I know,'' he murmurs, shifting closer. His thigh presses against yours, thick and warm beneath the blanket. ''We'll be quiet. Won't we, sweetheart?''

Sweetheart.

It wrecks you.

His fingers slip beneath the edge of the plush blanket. Nothing scandalous, just resting on your leg, but the promise in the gesture sends heat rocketing through you. You feel like you've been lit from the inside out.

''You can stop me anytime,'' he whispers, lips ghosting your ear. ''But if you let me keep going…'' A pause. A low, shaky breath. ''I'm not gonna be sweet about it.''

You breathe in too fast. Your lungs are full of him: his cologne, his warmth, the tension radiating off him like a second skin.

And you nod.

One small nod.

That’s all it takes.

His hand slides higher.

Slips under the waistband of your shorts. Over your bare thigh. Slow, reverent strokes, like he's committing your skin to memory. You try to stay still. Normal. But your breath is already shaking, and his hand is so sure. Confident. Dangerous.

''You've been wearing these shorts on purpose, haven't you?'' he whispers, breath tickling your neck. ''Walking in front of me. Bending over at every venue. Teasing me. Torturing me.''

You shake your head, a weak protest, but he just chuckles, dark and low.

''Liar,'' he murmurs.

And then his fingers brush the edge of your panties.

You jump. Just a little. But his hand steadies you, palm flat on your thigh, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin.

''Easy,'' he breathes. ''Let me touch you. Please, Y/N. Let me feel how wet you are for me.''

The sound your throat makes is borderline embarrassing, a choked gasp you barely catch in time. You grip the blanket tighter. Focus on breathing, on staying quiet.

''Shh, darling,'' he breathes, voice cracked and needy. ''You're gonna get us caught.''

He doesn't rush.

He slides two fingers over your clothed center, slow and deliberate. Feels the damp heat there and groans, quiet and low, like he's physically in pain.

''Fuck, baby,'' he whispers under his breath. ''You're soaked.''

You bury your face in your hand, heat crawling up your neck at the filthy words coming from your boss' mouth. ''Harry—''

''You've been like this the whole flight?'' he hisses, fingers pressing harder, rubbing circles through the fabric. ''Sitting beside me like a perfect little assistant, meanwhile your cunt's fucking throbbing under that laptop of yours?''

You nod, throat too tight to answer. His fingers trace over the damp fabric, slow and teasing, his touch maddeningly gentle; not enough to satisfy, just enough to torture. He keeps his eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch the moment your self-control snaps.

You squeeze your thighs together involuntarily. His hand is caught there now, stuck between them, exactly where he wants to be.

''Don't do that,'' he warns, voice tight. ''Don't hide from me.''

He presses down harder, fingers deliberately rubbing you through the soaked fabric. To anyone watching, it might not even look all that suspicious. But under the blanket, he's drawing filthy, lazy circles over your clit, just soft enough to make you squirm.

''You like bein' good for me, yeah?'' he murmurs against your temple, breath hot. ''Such a good assistant. Always do what you're told.''

You nod desperately, your hips rolling into his touch before you can stop them. He slides your underwear to the side with a practiced flick of his fingers, making you jolt again, whimpering in your throat. His fingers are on your bare pussy now, hot, thick, and teasing as he parts you slowly, lazily.

''You're gonna make me come in my fucking pants,'' he grits, barely moving his wrist as he slides a finger between your folds. ''You have no idea what you do to me.''

You're shaking.

You've fantasized about this on hotel beds, in green rooms, on long drives while he slept beside you in the tour bus. But nothing could've prepared you for the way he touches you. The way he whispers filth in your ear like it's poetry. Like every word comes straight from his heart.

''Open your legs for me, love,'' he says. ''Let me in.''

You do.

Without hesitation.

You shift, knees falling apart just enough under the blanket, and he rewards you by sliding one thick finger inside.

You gasp, one hand flying to cover your mouth and the other gripping his thigh under the blanket, nails digging in, as he pumps his finger slowly, gently, curling it right against your spot, like he's known your body for years without ever having touched you.

''There she is,'' he murmurs. ''That's my good girl.''

Your eyes roll back.

You grip the seat, try to breathe through your nose and bite your lip so hard you taste blood, your entire body trembling from the effort of staying silent. But he's not being merciful. He's savoring it. Twisting his wrist, adding a second finger, fucking you slow and deep under the cover of that soft blanket while the rest of the crew sleeps just feet away. He scissors you open, making you gasp out softly behind your hand, pressing his thumb to your clit with just enough pressure.

''You're so tight,'' he groans softly. ''Gonna take my cock so fucking well.''

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite your hand to stay silent. When you flutter them open slightly, you notice it.

His other hand is moving.

You blink through the dim light.

He's gripping himself under the blanket.

''Harry—''

''Shh,'' he whispers. ''I'm not gonna fuck you yet. Just need your hand. Need to feel you, baby, please.''

You stare at him, dazed. He's got your cunt stretched on two fingers and now he's hard too, thick and flushed and leaking against his fist, the stupid blanket draped over you blocking most of your view.

This shouldn't be happening.

You're his assistant. His team is right there.

And yet your hand is already moving before you can think twice, already wrapping around the base of his cock, warm and slick and heavy in your palm.

''Fucking hell,'' he breathes, his eyes squeezing shut as his head falls back. ''Y/N…'' he pants softly, his chest rising and falling hypnotically.

You stroke him slowly, in rhythm with the way he's fucking your cunt with his fingers. It's a miracle no one's noticed, everyone either asleep or wearing noise-cancelling headphones, the lighting dim, the blanket mercifully thick.

''You feel so good,'' he whispers, leaning closer. ''So warm and wet and perfect. Fuck, I've thought about this every night, getting myself off in the bathroom of every fucking venue while the whole team's waiting for me. I see you watching me every show, looking at me with those doe eyes, practically begging to be fucked, aren't you, baby?''

You whimper, pace quickening. His hips stutter into your hand, his fingers curling hard inside you.

You let out a soft, pained moan into your palm, thighs shaking as he pumps into you faster now, fingers slick and relentless. Your orgasm slams into you, sudden and all-consuming, and your body goes tight, locked up against the seat as he works you through it. Tears sting your eyes as the pleasure tears through you in silent, pulsing waves, Harry whispering praises against your ear as you shake through it.

He groans softly, barely audible, lips brushing your ear as you come undone in his hand.

''That's it. That's my girl. So quiet. So fucking good.''

You stroke him faster now, emboldened. He thrusts into your hand, sharp and desperate.

''I'm gonna come,'' he warns, voice breaking. ''Fuck. Gonna come all over your hand, sweetheart.''

You grip him tighter.

His breath catches, and then he's spilling in your hand, hips jerking, quiet curses hissing through clenched teeth. You feel it coat your skin, warm and messy beneath the blanket.

Neither of you moves for a long moment.

Just panting.

Reeling.

Your hand is still under the blanket, sticky and warm. His hand is still between your thighs, thumb brushing soft circles against your skin as you try to recover.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again, and when he finally pulls his fingers from you slowly, your body shudders at the loss of connection. He brings them to his lips, sucks them clean without shame, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

''Taste even better than I imagined.''

You stare at him, wide-eyed, wrecked. Boneless. He just smirks, brushing your hair back like nothing happened.

''Next time,'' he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, your collarbone, your neck, your jaw. ''I'm fucking you.''

You shiver.

A curtain rustles behind you, someone getting up to grab a water, and you both quickly pull back, sitting up straight.

Like nothing happened.

Like you're just two co-workers sitting beside one another, watching the clouds.

But under the blanket, your hearts are still racing, your cunt still pulsing, the remnants of his release still coating your hand.

And the line between boss and assistant?

Officially obliterated.

''Now,'' he clears his throat, settling back in his seat with a soft smile like he didn't just ruin you, ''about that Dublin setlist.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

[emacrow]

First, It was Barb was doing night checks on wayne manor cameras surveillance pt 2

Previous post pt 1

She was in a bit of awe when she saw the newest very rare exotic flower Alfred got bloom under the light of the full moon, revealing beautiful crystallized like petals blossom, only for her widening eyes to take noticed of a tiny little pixie like child to pop his little head out of the center of the flower.

His hair was unnatural white fluff like a dandelion in her opinion, eyes glowing an otherworldly green, freckles that sparkle like the stars themselves, ears a bit long and pointy, wearing a odd clothing with a needles strapped to his back, that she could barely catch in camera, the static buzzing sound from her cameras was making it a bit difficult to hear what sound the tiny little fairy boy made as he floated above zooming around the garden a bit like he was excited.

It made barb's inner child squeals, screaming, flipping her tiny princess table at the possibly of Nederland being possible.

Curious little bug, floating around like the fairies in Disney like except of the Glow pixie dust like she seen on the movies, he left a trail of blueish green light that faded away rather quickly with the way he was flying into the slightly opened kitchen's window...

Wait a goddamm minutes..

Barb immediately switch cameras to the kitchen, looking around, only to see it went through the hallway already, switching cameras again, checking the living room, the hallways, only to catch a glimpse of trail glow zooming around.

Crap crap. OK, no need to panic Barb. What do curious pixie like fairies out in the human world.. bring the season right?!, play with children like that Bell fairy did? Finds and take lost things and secretly repair lost things?..! Fairies are weak without pixie dust, they don't live long without it, each fairies has a different part of the seasons, and if you don't believe in them then they immediately die and that cause imbalance in the world without their influence unless you truly believe in fairies to bring back one fairy.(she went through a whole fairy obsession phase as a kid, she still mourns the lost of the create your fairy open world game)

The fairy must've Found a new type of pixie dust to fly without wings if she could recall that one sequel with the new pixie dusts colors thing..?

It was like a game of Where Waldo except where the little mythical fairy boy that couldn't possibly- no no barb don't think about the taboo words, if you think about it and this poor mythical being dies due to your words then the guilt will haunt you Forever.

3 hours in the catch the glimpse of the fairy boy, flying back at to his little flower holding a tiny cube of sugar, a shiny tiny object that she can't get a clear of, and a plump blueberry the size of his little head as he lands in the petals that were closing around him. Crystallized back close as if to guard this little fairy being with its own life.

Right when the full moon glimpse was gone out of the sight of the garden from the sky when the smog cloud from the city covering once more.. Barb is writing that down in her notes..

Part 3 link Here <-

[cranberrydietcoke]

euphoria - r.c

ex bf ! rafe cameron x kook princess ! reader

content: 18+, drinking & drug use, drunk/high sex, degrading names (slut, whore, bitch), on camera type shit, kinda public party sex, my y/ns are always cream team soz, kinda dubcon ig, he makes her say ily, creampie. def giving s1 fratboy rafe. non-descriptive except for tanned skin n u curl ur hair!

a/n: first rafe fic eeeep! many more to come tho i deadass have feelings for him it’s a problem. & thx u for the luv on my last two fics !! preesh u bad bitches

wc: 3k

your fingers intertwined with sutton’s as she pulled you along, splitting the tight crowd of snapbacks and miniskirts. smoke hung over the purple atmosphere as some future song boomed from the speakers. you greeted each spinning face you slid by with a slurred sorry baby! or scuse’ me!

“bitch nooo, come the fuck onnnnn,” she pleaded, jerking you away from the random man you were offering your vape to.

“later okay! come smoke w’me!” you yelled back at him, trying to communicate with charades as sutton pulled you deeper into the heart of the party. he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t see him later, considering rafe was about twenty feet away slicing lines on the kitchen counter. the baby pink polo hugged his bicep as he bent over, rolled dollar bill tight between his fingers.

fuck. i miss that platinum card.

a few months ago, you and rafe  were the it couple of kildare, without question. luxury vacations, designer swimwear, a mercedes for christmas, days in the yacht. it was like kim and fucking kanye. even more so now. a breakup had never lasted more than a few hours, usually ending with you both getting high and rafe fucking an ‘im sorry’ out of you. but this time, you were actually done with his shit, done having a screaming match every day, done apologizing all the time just so he wouldn’t blow up. sure, it was sad at first. but when it was posted on figure8insider, you had finally reached the last stage of grief: acceptance.

“like why do they even fucking care?” you barked, scrunching a warm, fresh curl in your hand. “how do they even know? shit’s like tmz.” spinning in your satin vanity chair, you turned to face your friend before sashaying to your closet.

“they act like we’re soooo a-list. i’m with your ass every day, you are NOT that interesting,” sutton chuckled, adjusting the strap of her top and checking herself out in the mirror. with topper’s parents away in the virgin islands, his annual end-of-summer banger was everybody’s move for the night, and you were certain rafe was gonna be there.  

“right?” you blew clouds of strawberry pound cake as you rummaged through hangers, “like, i’m not an influencer.”

it came out like a lie, and in a way, it was. you were the sweetheart of the island’s restless and entitled youth, their very own people’s princess. your strapless black dress could only be worn after sundown, barely covering the lower curve of your ass, delicate pink ribbons holding together the cutout of your cleavage. a stack of expensive gold bangles chimed together as you stuffed all your shit into your purse, slammed another shooter, and dialed reagan for a ride.

“you know rafe’s gonna be there, right?” she asked, turning the music down and casting a glance at you from the driver’s seat. you suck your teeth behind your glittery lips.

“duh, bitch! why do you think she got that on?” sutton screamed from the back, making all three of you die in laughter as you hid your face. just like, one more time wouldn’t hurt.

even under the kaleidoscope of neon lights, you could tell the whole room’s attention turned toward you as you danced your way in. sneaking a seltzer from the cooler, you settled at the beer pong table where a group of wannabe finance bros crushed solo cups of natty light, shooting each other starstruck glances and sharing whispers as you glided through, greeting everyone with an indifferent wave and an insincere heyyyyyyy.

“yo, rafe, your girl’s over there,” kelce leaned in, motioning over to the enveloping swarm of people growing around you.

“bro, top,” rafe fell back, slapping topper in the chest, “why the fuck did you even invite her?” he spat out, eyes pulsing.

“dude…why wouldn’t i invite her…” topper stated plainly, as if rafe had asked if the sky was fucking blue. if you weren’t there, that shit was a flop.

“that bitch,” he started, shaky hands sliding in to search his pockets, “that bitch is fucking crazy, okay?” he pulled out a dime bag and his wallet, eyeing his friends who knew better than to speak. he tapped some out on the granite countertop, lining it up nice and clean with his american express, hinging at the waist to align a rolled 20 with the powder, making it disappear in one snort.

before it could register, sutton was dragging you through the sea of people and closer and closer to rafe, forcing you to abandon the crowd of drooling fans. gripping your shoulders, she planted you right in front of him. you looked up, caught between a flash of fear and drunken amusement, an absent smile playing on your face.

“be good okay?” she chided, lightly slapping your back with beaming pride, “text me if you need anything!”

he wiped the excess powder off his nostril with a laugh of disbelief as he stood over you, studying your face. all you can manage is a squeaky and breathless hi as your tipsy blush deepens.

“hey, kid. miss me or somethin’?” he mocked, bringing the tips of his fingers to brush against your arm. 

“oh my god rafe, be serious,” you scoff, batting away his large, lingering hands.

“aw, what? don’t wanna share a blunt with me like we used to?” he drew out, words dripping in honeyed hatred. almost made you forget all the shit he’d put you through. the familiar teal of his eyes roamed over every square inch of your freckled and exposed skin.

“fuck no,” you laughed, watching as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, “no tellin’ where your mouth has been.”

“right, “ his eyes narrowed as he crouched down, inches from your face, “like you’re some fuckin’ angel.”

breath hot on your lips, encapsulating you with the smell of stout liquor and le labo santal. “won’t smoke with me, but you’ll smoke with ole boy?” he spoke, low and calm through heaving breaths as he motioned with a sharp hand towards the brunette you’d ran into.

fuck. he heard you.

 “i see how it is…bein’ an attention whore since you left, huh?” he backed up, wiping the wetness off his lower lip with the same hand.

“don’t piss me off,” you rolled your eyes, “come on.”  taking his wrist into your hand and leading him towards the balcony door. he had an uncanny talent for manipulating the situation, planting the illusion you had the upper hand, although you never did. you were unknowingly right where he wanted you. digging into your purse, you pull out an m&m mini’s tube, popping it open and flipping it vertically. a blunt slid out and into your fingers, perfectly rolled.

the coastal air was thick with humidity, only lit by the light poles on the beach. rafe’s chest hovered over your back as you stepped out into the salty breeze, brushing strands of hair out of your eyes and positioning the blunt between your lips. just as you fished for your lighter, he moved faster, sparking a flame under his calloused thumb and bringing it closer. he watched you as the fire cast a glow on your half-lidded gaze, crackling lightly as you inhaled. as mean and vile and ungrateful as he was, he truthfully couldn’t imagine himself with another girl. you were bitchy, high maintenance, never satisfied, spoiled, whiny, just so unknowingly powerful. but god, you were fucking perfect. who else on this island would be able to handle you?

“you know,” you hissed, drawing the smoke sharply between your teeth before releasing it in a hazy stream that slipped through the perfect, glossy ‘o’ formed by the soft contour of your lips. “it wasn’t as devastating as i thought it was gonna be.” you sputter, nudging it towards his towering frame which stood outlined by the glow of the orange lanterns. he hit it, tiny little consecutive pecks that made the tip flash on and off.

“really?” he choked between inhales. “cause you look pretty devastated to me.” he smirked, stepping closer, blowing the potent smoke into your parted lips as you instinctively breathe it in. “you miss me?”

“maybe just a little,” you tease, watching the satisfied smirk grow on his face. his free hand traced the curve of your collarbone, fingers lightly brushing the tousled strands of your hair off your shoulder. he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the tanned skin.

“i miss your carrdddd, that nice big boattt, the presents.” you sing with a smug smile, hands snaking around his neck, his fingers finding the cushion of your hips, moving and swaying together.

“oh, shut the fuck up,” he looked down at you, dilated pupils scanning your face, “nobody’s fucking you like me, bet that,” a dry laugh left his throat.

“ugh,” you crash into his chest, pressing your cheek into the dry cleaned ralph lauren. whining  ihateyouihateyouihateyou’s.

steady and smooth, he discarded the blunt, wrapping his hands around your back, groping and pawing at your half-revealed ass. without thinking, you lift onto your tippy toes, breath coming in shallow gasps, lips lingering over his open mouth. without warning, his tongue fought its way in, swirling with yours in a hot, desperate hail mary. your lips met in sloppy smacks, stumbling over each other until he eventually had your hips pressed against the side railing.

pulling away, he spoke, low and from his chest. “you hate me? yeah? or do you just miss my dick in you,” his face lingered over yours, “n’ it’s got you all fuckin’ bothered.” you felt the puff of breath with each word. “say it,” he coaxed, hiking up the front of your dress to thumb at the hem of your panties, “say you want me to take that pussy.” his long fingers ran over your clothed clit, making your hips roll against the opulent stone that hung over the thornton estate. he chuckled, shaking his head as his gaze fixed between your legs. “it’s fuckin’ mine anyways.”  

your lips chased after his as he stepped back, tsking at you, still holding you steady by the waist. “nah, baby. gotta say it,”

you closed the distance, pressing your soft, heavy tits into the muscle of his abdomen and the pads of your fingertips into his bicep. face so close to yours, a smirk practically tangible in the air.

“pleaseeeee rafe, i need it,” you panted out, desperate and erratic. “just one more time.” your eyes traced him up and down, sinking into cross-faded euphoria. a single, needy tear fell from the corner of your glittery and bloodshot eye, streaking down your flushed cheek. brushing his lips against you, he flicked his tongue, tracing the path of the teardrop. you moan at the warmth against your cool skin, reaching down to guide his hand between your legs.

“fuck, such a slut.” he breathes out, cupping your dripping cunt and meeting your lips in a deep, perverse kiss. the kind that you just can't help but pull back a little bit. “missed you, missed this pussy.” he spoke in a low guttural rasp, almost inaudible. his wide build shielded you from the large glass doors that led into the party, hooking his fingers in the fabric of your panties and yanking them down, dipping his middle finger into the wetness pooling at your entrance.

“god, need this shit,” he groaned, swiping his finger gently up and down, circling your bundle of nerves. “turn around.”

he gave the command yet didn’t wait for a response, his firm grip on your waist flipping you the other way, leaving no room for a fight. bent over the balcony balustrade, your head hung in the air, looking down at the pool that sat twenty feet below. one of rafe’s hands pinned you over the railing by the back of the neck while the other played and prodded at your hole, getting you ready for him. discreetly, he worked his cock loose, rubbing the tip through your slick folds.

“rafeeee,” you muffle out, face smushed against the stone and immobile from the strength of his grasp. “not here, please, ca-can we just go inside?”

“nahh, i don’t think so, baby. this is what you wanted, right?” his hand slid down, wrapping a fist into the bunched fabric of your dress, pressing into you. your walls fluttered against him, a feeling so familiar yet so distant. lasers from the party strobed through the window, flashing by you. knees buckling, you couldn’t help but wiggle your ass back against him.

“god – fuck!” you squeal out, feeling him balls deep in you, guiding you down his length and filling you to the hilt. reaching into the pocket of his khakis, which still hung low on his hips, he fishes his phone out. with a quick flick, snapchat is open and the flash is washing over you. even with your head hung over the railing, you could still see the spotlight focused on your tight, twitching hole. he slides in and out, using your dress to manipulate the rhythm of your body. capturing everyyyy moment.

“this s’my shit, huh?” he panted out, your ass recoiling against each harsh thrust. “you’re my bitch, y’know that? been my bitch.” voice low and slow, almost cocky, like he wanted everyone to know -  like they didn’t already. the sound of damp, saturated clapping mixed with the crash of waves onto the shore.

“p-please, they’re gonna see,” you whimper, body jerking as he slams into you over and over. imagine the uproar if everyone saw you, little miss untouchable, taking your ex-boyfriend’s cock on the terrace outside topper’s party. grabbing a handful of hair, he yanks your head back, glare of the light fixed on your face. 

“they’re gonna see anyway, baby, don’t be shy. jus’ cum f’me,” your face screwed with his words, brows furrowing as you looked up at the camera with hopeless, empty eyes. just so fucked out. the curve of his dick poked and kissed that sweet spot deep inside you, bringing you closer and closer.

“you love me, huh?” he grunted, still forcing a deep arch in your back. “tell the camera you love me, princess.” you could feel yourself coming loose, guilt and lust boiling over in your tummy. you explode in a squealing moan, gripping on his cock and covering it with cream.

 “i love you rafe, fuck! - love you so so much!” crying through hiccups and flickering eyes, still trained on the flash. such a smart girl getting fucked dumb on camera. such a powerful person yet completely powerless in his hands.

“gonna let me nut in you?” his filming hand went flimsy as he quickened his pace, groaning and letting out short little bursts of air. “y’gonna take it all, be good for me like you used to?” he rasped, met with limp nods and a braindead mhmmm. that’s all it took for him to pound every inch into you, sending you deeper into your daze. fuckin’ dickmatized.

the video on his screen shook violently with each stroke, hot spurts of cum filling you up. “fuuuuckk,” he groaned, hips stuttering to a stop and loosening the grip on your hair, leaving you to catch your breath hung over the railing. he pointed the camera down, pulling himself out and spreading one cheek open with his hand to expose the stickiness dripping out of you. the flash finally goes off, and he saves it to his memories. bringing his fingers up to your leaky hole, he fucks his seed in deeper, eliciting a choked sob from your lips. pulling you upright and flipping you to face him, he squats down to pull your panties up from around your ankles, shimmying your hips into them and pulling your dress down. it was just like y'all used to.

the party was still in full swing as you both slipped back in, parting ways as you went to check in with sutton and reagan, completely disregarding the knotted mess of hair on your head and the streaked makeup down your face. was that fucking real? your legs were tight as you stagger and shuffle through groups of drunk teenagers all bouncing with the music, trying to regain your composure. as soon as reagan spots you from the couch, her jaw is on the floor, ushering you closer with her hand.

“y/n, no fucking way! you slut!” she shrieks with wide eyes and a light slap to your arm. “does sutton know?”

“girl, she set the shit up!” you try to explain, motioning with your hands. “i was like, if you insistttttt.” you lie, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, hitting her with a debby ryan radio rebel type smirk.

“you’re lying,” she goes on, picking her jaw up and taking a swig of her drink. “speak of the devil!” she exclaims, motioning behind you with her drink. a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you jump. sutton’s hand gripped yours, turning you around.

“did you fuck him?” she smiled, obviously drunk as shit and wayyy too loud.

“yeahh, what do you mean…” you roll your eyes, snapping your head to the side with a wide smile. it was evident how excited sutton was, prideful about it. lifting her solo cup in the air and grabbing to lift yours with the other, she let out a deafening woo!

“personally…” she went on, clutching her imaginary pearls, “i think that’s worth drinking to,” she proposed, side-eyeing and nudging you not so subtly. “come on bitch! shots for ken and barbie!”

to be honest, that was the last thing you remember.

the next morning, you woke up nuzzled in plaid grey sheets, your phone buzzing incessantly with notifications. the sound of the groundskeepers filtered through the windows. tannyhill.

fumbling with your phone, the words flashed across the screen.

figure8insider – ‘kildare’s power couple reunited? rafe cameron and y/n y/ln spotted together at party!’

oh.my.god.

[rqdio]

STAGE HAZARD . . .

SYPNOSIS: fresh off a big east game win, paige and the uconn team go to madison square garden to watch Y/N—basketball star by day, rockstar by night—rock the stage for a post-game concert. as Y/N drops to the floor and strums her guitar with raw, sensual flair, every note and smirk sends paige spiraling into a delicious obsession. surrounded by playful teases from the team, paige finds herself totally undone—caught between fierce admiration and a need to shout it from the rooftops.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: inspired by billie eilish playing guitar, i just feel like paige is the type to get horny when she sees her gf playing the electric guitar

WORD COUNT: 977

PAIGE’S POV | THIRD PERSON

Ever since Y/N came on stage, I was transfixed by her ability to control such a big crowd. For ever, I’ve been wanting to see her perform live, and not just in the comforts of the team’s dorm room, but on stage where she belonged.

After playing a heavy game against Louisville the night before in New York for Big East, she planned a while ago to have a show at Madison Square Garden if we won. The whole team was there, standing in an exclusive VIP section along with a few other celebrities.

My talented girl could do anything. Basketball? The best shooter I know, and could lock up anyone on defense. Volleyball? Always putting in drive, risking her body to make sure the ball stayed in the air. And singing? God… She was a walking siren, transfixing anyone who dared to listen with the power of her voice.

As she moved around the stage, she engaged with the crowd. Locking eyes with fans, who turned around to the person beside them screaming about how she looked at them. Microphone in hand, she jumped around the stage moving to the beat of her music.

There was always something that drew me into her, but seeing her underneath the spotlight, in her element… Man, I couldn’t dare to look away. She was performing ‘Lunch,’ a song that I’ve been dying to hear live because of how sensual it is. Everytime I hear it, it takes me back to that moment when we were in bed, limbs tangled, heavily panting from the activities of the night.

I COULD EAT THAT GIRL FOR LUNCH

…SHE DANCES ON MY TONGUE

Since that night she told me she wrote this song about me before we even had relations made me fall for her even more. Knowing she was into me as much as I was to her was something that made me feel as if I could touch the clouds.

She wrapped the electric guitar around her shoulders. The body of the guitar sleek, the blood-red color shining as if made from a star. The edges were smooth, round enough to sit comfortably on her torso.

I KNOW IT’S JUST A HUNCH

… BUT SHE MIGHT BE THE ONE (one x3)

She sang in her mic, one hand on the neck of the guitar while the other one held her microphone. She quickly went to the microphone stand, clicking it into place before the guitar bridge.

As the bridge started, Y/N’s fingers danced across the strings with effortless confidence. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as she blew out breaths from running around the stage. She looked back down to her hands playing the guitar, biting her lip and scrunching her eyes.

She was a sight for sore eyes under the flashing lights—sweat beading on her forehead, giving her an ethereal glow. A smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth, as if she knew what she was doing to the crowd. I could barely breathe.

“Yo… Paige is gone,” Azzi mumbled beside me, just loud enough for Aubrey to hear her. Aubrey turned over to me, looking at my flushed face and adoring eyes.

Y/N moved to the side of the stage where we faced her, my throat went dry. Her fingers worked the guitar like a second nature, her veins popping in her forearm glistening with sweat. An intense look on her face, focusing on the heavy strings of the guitar.

Then, facing our way, she dropped on knee down on the stage. Her body rolled with the rhythm, kneeling down on the stage. Her back arched slightly as she leaned back, hair sticking to her face from the damp sweat.

“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself, palms becoming clammy.

Ice and KK laughed beside me, I paid them no mind. “Girl, you good?” Ice asked, hand on stomach to prevent herself from laughing in my face. I moved my hands up to the rail in front of me, knuckles whitening to my grip.

“She's not good,” KK laughed, hand on Ice’s shoulder as she hunched over laughing. She leaned forward a little to see my face, “That girl is pussy-whipped.”

I paid them no mind. My breath hitched when Y/N laid all the way back on the stage, her back arched as the guitar rested on her stomach. Such a sensual pose the whole crowd screamed how I felt—but over the screaming I swear I heard my heart pound a million miles per second.

“She's finna bust a nut looking at her like that,” a slightly tipsy Aubrey said, drink in hand.

“She looks like she's about to jump on the stage,” said Sarah with a sly grin. “Some one give her a cold towel.”

I couldn't take my eyes off her, not for a second. The short guitar riff part feeling like years as I watched her play, dragging out each note with sensual precision. None of the screaming crowd registered for me—my eyes locked in a tunnel vision. Just Y/N on the floor, playing that goddamn guitar like it was meant for sin.

My body was reacting before she even started playing the guitar. But now? Shit. Heart racing, thighs clenching, breath catching every time she looked our way in anticipation that she would see what she did to me.

God, I’m so gone for her. I thought. And I’m sure Y/N knew how gone I am for her too. Because when she opened her eyes after leaning back up, towards the end, she looked towards us. More particularly, me.

She smirked—slow and smug—and winked. Her teasing manner wrecked me inside, turning me inside out and wanting to have my way with her right then and there.

“Yep,” said Jana. “She's a goner.”

MAK'S CORNER 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋🎧ྀི — i fear i got too caught up in billie electric guitar edits and paige edits...

[shadesoflsk]

THE OLD WAY

pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader

summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.

warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.

word count: 4k

author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)

MY MASTERLIST

City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.

That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.

With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.

Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day. 

But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.

Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance. 

So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day. 

“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came. 

You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever. 

He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception. 

He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him. 

However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.

And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was. 

For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.

Oh.

Oh…

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch. 

He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.

However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you? 

On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind. 

He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.

He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was. 

Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.

“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.

“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?” 

“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”

He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it. 

“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty. 

The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely.”

Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.

“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”

Leon didn’t think he would get this far. 

“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.

“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!” 

Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s. 

“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.

“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.

-

Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.

Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water. 

“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants. 

“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks. 

And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.

When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have. 

“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body. 

“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love. 

For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body. 

A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.

For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.

He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.

Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.

Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.

“Up,” And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”

And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.

“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.

“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for. 

“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you. 

Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.

And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already. 

As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.

Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul. 

He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper. 

“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you. 

A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.

Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.

At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release. 

“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling. 

At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment. 

For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control. 

You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection. 

“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy. 

“You can…” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”

He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.

In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air. 

“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you. 

“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.

He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly. 

“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know. 

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra. 

And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy. 

“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”

And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.

“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.

“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”

Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.

“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you. 

“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.” 

Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb. 

It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body. 

He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to. 

“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest.  “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.” 

He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you. 

His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.

“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”

Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.

And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.

“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.

The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste. 

You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs. 

After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach. 

Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.

“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle. 

“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.

With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles. 

“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright. 

“More than okay.” 

He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.

“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.

💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

[jinx-xxed]

Too Late (Almost)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Edited through this older piece since I still enjoy it :) also cuz I haven’t posted in forever hey guys

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; When presented with the choice of winning the battle or saving the one he loves, which path will Kylo Ren take?

Content; Angst, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander reader, original characters, Kylo POV and reader POV, Rey vs. Kylo, redoing that TFA fight basically, but now in the TROS timeline yay!, Force bonded to Kylo, Force visions, blood and injury, reader almost dies whoops, battle, Kylo saves you, murder, Kylo chooses you, whole bunch of conflicting emotions, longing, possible down bad behavior

Wc; 2.4k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Rey grunts against the force of his swing, her heels digging into and slipping against the snow covered ground beneath them. Red sparks against blue, creating a sort of purple mix of light that reflects off her face and his mask. It’s so reminiscent of their first conflict, of the fight in those snowy woods outside of Starkiller Base, where he had lost. Kylo won’t lose this time. He’s stronger, he’s better, he won’t be bested by his outlandish and fleeting desires to have someone who understood because he thought he had no one, to have someone to teach to prove to himself that this wasn’t for nothing.

It’s just them in this clearing, sparse, dying trees surrounding them, snow flying up around their legs and soaking into their clothing. Their hair is plastered to the edges of their cheeks, determination and fury burning in both of their eyes. Determination not to lose, determination to get out of this in one piece. Rey slashes at him, a downward swing that he blocks and jerks his lightsaber upwards, taking hers with it. She steps away to just narrowly avoid the middle swing he aims at her abdomen, going into the defensive again. She slips against the ground, her lightsaber unable to come up and protect her when he prepares another attack, leading her to resort to the strength of the Force. He feels an invisible power blocking his lightsaber, creating a weird effect with the plasma where it’s stuck in the air mid-swing, quivering beneath the Force. With her next breath, Rey rears up and tries an underhand slash, one which he dodges by darting backwards.

The dance is familiar, one Kylo’s practiced time and time again with different partners. It doesn’t scare him, doesn’t illicit the type of fear it does in Rey. She’s scared of losing, of what could happen to her if she does. She knows she’s at a natural disadvantage with him beating her out in almost every aspect, and yet it’s her courage that keeps her going. It’s something intangible that keeps her from bowing to his power—her defiance and spirit. He recognizes the spark in her eyes, because he’s seen it so many times in someone else’s. In someone who is so unbreakable it infuriated him, in someone who is his equal in every way, in someone who has been with him through just about everything.

Lightsabers burn gashes into trees, the wood smoking and burning orange, snow melts from the heat, only to be replaced by a flurry disturbed by the two of them. In the distance, there’s more fighting, more smoke, more blaster fire, more ship engines screaming. But here, it’s like they’re in their own isolated world away from it all. Rey misses a swing, her form falters, and he takes his chance. He uses the Force like the surge of a wave, overwhelming his opponent before she can react, slamming it against her body and sending her off balance. She yells, her back connecting violently with a tree, bringing her to her hands and knees in the white coldness of the snow. He advances with the easy, ruthless power of a predator as she struggles to get back to her feet. The opportunity is open before him, feeling like the sight of a clear sky after days of endless clouds, he only needs to-

Help.

The voice echoes through his mind, it makes his entire body freeze, like he’s unable to move even if he wanted to. It comes from far off in the trees, in a blood soaked clearing, where there’s only pain and anger and a desperate reach outwards. He heard her, her single word ringing louder than any other thought that may occupy his attention. His head turns ever so slightly, just a small tilt to the left, towards that direction. Rey is beginning to get up, she’s readying her saber, she’s prepared to fight again—but she’s studying him as well, curiosity sparking from the sudden change of his demeanor. She recognizes the way something has called him, something she couldn’t hear but could feel like a ripple across a still lake.

She’s alone, his Commander is alone, fighting to keep herself upright in a battle that’s quickly tipping in a direction that is not in her favor. He sees it in flashes across their bond, the imagery so vivid it’s like he’s there, living it through herself. There’s so many of them, all coming from between the trees with weapons brandished and with a determination to make this her resting ground. It was all planned out; get one of them alone, funnel them away from their soldiers and comrades so they can be overwhelmed and overrun, brought down by those they’d spent so long crushing beneath their heel. They knew he’d be too focused on Rey, blinded by his rage, so that left only one remaining. Her Fleet is nowhere to be found, instead fighting their own battles, working together in the skies with the methods they’d been taught. Her breath is forced from her lungs as she’s brought to the ground. He feels it, the way his chest is threatening to cave in on itself, the burning, phantom pain within his right arm and left side.

The scene disappears suddenly and is instead replaced by something else, something formed and created by the otherworldly powers of the Force. He recognizes the hazy look of a vision, a glimpse into one of many possible futures. He watches, powerless, as she’s pinned, grappling hopelessly against a woman with a blaster aimed right at her head. Kylo’s torn from the vision just as the blaster goes off, the sound of it echoing in his skull.

A sudden despair washes over him, a type he’s never felt before and isn’t sure what to do with. It has no weight behind it, being simply the tip of the iceberg of what’s to come depending on what decision he may make. But it’s enough to make him want to fall to his knees. He’s thrown back into his body, his feet feeling unsteady beneath him, the crackling of his lightsaber filling his ears instead of the screech of a blaster. His eyes lift to Rey, his mind reaches for the forest. Two choices, two paths, two outcomes. That’s what it always is, isn’t it? One or the other, he can’t have both.

His fists clench, the ridges of his lightsaber hilt bite into his palm, Rey’s expression hardens, her legs separating into a battle stance. There’s a voice in his head that hisses at him angrily, demanding he not make this choice, demanding that he do what he’s supposed to, what he’s meant to. Weak, useless, too much of your father in you. He listens to it for a moment, listens to its whispers that have plagued him for years.

But then that despair from before pierces him like a stake, yelling at him, grabbing onto him, begging him to listen just this once. There’s a dam that breaks, a cage that opens and frees the bird trapped inside, flying in a way it always dreamed of. He takes a stumbling step back, a final moment of hesitation, like giving himself a chance to reconsider. It’s futile; he made up his mind a long time ago.

And then Kylo runs. He runs in the opposite direction, he runs from Rey, he runs from his victory, he runs from every lesson beat into him, and he instead runs towards something else entirely. Towards his hope, his respite, his safety, his partner, his everything. He feels deep down in the most core parts of himself that he just crossed a line he’ll never be able to uncross—and he finds that he doesn’t want to. Snow tries to suck him down, decaying plants grab at the edges of his robes, that hissing voice inside his head screams, but he ignores it all. Nothing can stop him now. His breath burns in his lungs, icy and angry and desperate. He feels her so acutely, feels her pain and every emotion and thought within her head, and it’s this that makes him realize he doesn’t know what to do were that to suddenly disappear, snuffed out like a flame, leaving him feeling like he’s missing the second half of himself. He’s been too late for a lot of things; too late to make up for what he’s done, too late to make things different, too late to make the right choice.

Please don’t let him be too late for this.

» ☆ «

“I thought you were the good guys.”

The blaster readjusts in the hands holding it, the barrel shifting upwards like it wants to give you a better view of where your demise is going to come from. The woman behind it keeps one eye shut, the other glaring at you as she snarls at your words. “We are the good guys.”

The face of this girl you used to know is now foreign to you, aged by the terrors of war and the fight for survival just like yours is. You can’t even remember her name. Your hand shakes desperately against her wrist, as if it’ll do anything to keep back the inevitable. Blood drips down into your left eye, your breathing rasps past your lips. Your other hand lays limp in the snow, a blaster shot cutting clean through your forearm and rendering it useless. Your lightsaber is somewhere nearby, knocked from your grasp at the same moment an elbow had connected with your jaw.

“You say that, but you all stoop to the same levels you criticize us for.” You spit at her, bloody teeth bared. “What do you think this is? A game to see who can come out on top with more innocence? Don’t kid yourselves.”

The girl’s eyes flare with anger so acute you can see the sparks. She brings her heavy-booted foot down on the blaster wound in your arm, putting as much pressure as possible. You choke out a scream as pain eats you alive, nausea blooming in your stomach. Blood spurts beneath the sole of her shoe, trickling down your charred skin and onto the snow below. “Quit talking like you fucking know anything. You’re vile. You get off on killing us. You deserve whatever fate waits for you in hell.” She jerks your hand off her wrist, gripping it and twisting sharply. Bones crack, more agony. Your mouth merely hangs open, sound unable to come out as your vision flashes white.

You feel as though your body is not yours, your pain cutting the ropes that kept the second part of you inside, allowing it to linger nearby as if this is all happening to someone else. Maybe it’s because you’re empty of your abilities, your muscles and blood no longer able to harbor the power of the Force. You’d used it all up a while ago when you were fighting a different group of rebels. Now you’re left so depleted you can’t even call your lightsaber to you, nor can you seem to keep your soul inside your own body. You look again at the blaster in her hands, you look into the black pit of the barrel. Is that what it’ll feel like? Black nothingness? You think so.

There’s nobody nearby to hear you, to come help—save—you. The Fleet is off fighting their battles in the skies, Kylo is occupied with Rey, you can’t call for backup. This was the rebels plan, after all. They wanted you to separate so you weren’t as strong, so that you could be taken down easier. You’ll admit that they were smart in taking the risk, it clearly worked in their favor. You should’ve been smarter, you should’ve noticed the signs and known not to follow the bait. You should’ve kept your head clear rather than letting the idea of this victory cloud your thoughts. You should’ve known to check your surroundings through the Force so you didn’t get overwhelmed by the rebels. You were stupid in the heat of the moment and you’re going to pay for it. You deserve it. You left BB-12 back in your ship so he didn’t get injured—even if he is a droid. You hope he’ll be okay.

You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the action using too much strength that you don’t have. The cold of the snow is setting in, making your body numb. Your pain seems so far away when it’s like that. There’s a shift, the blaster clicking, and you know what’s going to happen. That’s fine. You couldn’t escape it forever.

You expect it to happen, for that shot of hot plasma to pierce through your heart and for all of this to come to an end. Your limbs relax in preparation—but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s an explosion of noises all at once. Your ears feel like they’re submerged in water but you can still hear the screams in fear and anger and confusion, the stomping of feet as people try to run, and the screech of an unstable lightsaber as it swings through the air and through human flesh. The weight of that girl on your chest is lifted so rapidly that breath finds its way back into your lungs in a heaving gasp that has your entire body burning in agony.

It takes less than a minute before silence settles over the clearing. The smell of fresh death hits your nose. You can barely manage to open your eyes again, merely squinting up at Kylo standing over you. His black uniform makes him cut such an intimidating shape against the white backdrop of the snow and watery sky, the silver lining on his helmet reflecting it. His breathing is coming out as ragged static through his modifier, chest heaving. His lightsaber clicks off and he attaches it to his belt, calling yours to him as he does and putting it right next to his own.

It feels like a dream that he’s actually here, that he picks you up and cradles you so carefully so he doesn’t irritate your wounds. When he lifts you, you see the carnage he left. Every rebel lays dead on the ground, their bodies getting buried under the snow that’s begun to fall. Kylo’s warmth under your cheek almost doesn’t feel real… you should be dead. You deserve to be dead. When you sent out that final plea through the Force, you never expected him to answer.

“I’m sorry.” You croak. “I messed it up. You lost them because of me. You should’ve left me-“

“Don’t.” Kylo snaps. Your body jostles with his movements as he walks. “Don’t say that.“

Even with your fading strength, you can still feel him through the bond you share. He was terrified, he was terrified of the possibility of losing you. He was terrified of how willing you were to give up; he could sense those final moments. He’s so angry at himself for nearly letting it happen, for letting the rebels get the upper hand like this.

“We will find them again,” he promises you. He pauses, the silence filled with the crunch of snow beneath his boots. “The same could not be said if I lost you.”

[ik33ponmakingc00ki3s]

My Guilty Pleasure༄🍂࿔:･

Singer! Kazuha x Fem! Reader

You are so in love with his voice that you listened to other bands that are similar to his

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Slowburn

Warning: NSFW

(A/n): Ik I'm not the only one who thinks about this, saw a tiktok post about GI chars having similar voices to artists a year or 2 ago, and now I can't unhear it </3 I'm gonna sob

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⁺ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹୨୧︶︶⊹

"You know, there's this other band that has the same voice as you and vice versa." You blurted out towards your crush, a bold movement coming from you.

Kazuha raised a brow towards you, familiar with the topic he went through with multiple people as the both of you walked out of school, 

"Let me guess, is it CAS?" 

"I-" Your head snapped towards him as he laughed

"Yeah I get that a lot, But I really don't hear it. We may sound alike but we're different in a unique way" He cut you off, the two of you walking together side by side as the clouds were starting to form heavily.

"Yeah but-- There's no denying it right? you guys sound like twins, no offence to to you and Greg tho" You pestered him a bit more, looking at him pleadingly as he chuckled while adjusting his bag's straps. "Want me to drop you off your spot? It's gonna rain soon, and don't worry I don't mind" He offered.

"Oh sure! Thanks tho" You smiled at his kind gesture, screaming inside as you get to have a ride with someone who's good-looking, well known and admired. "We can listen to your playlist on the way if you want to" He chuckled as you brightened, both of you heading towards his car as he took the keys out his pocket to unlock it.

----------------------  

The two of you were listening to CAS albums with your phone connected to the speaker, the weather was gloomy, rain pouring in, along with the fog covering the streets and parking lot while you were debating and ranking on each song as Kazuha wondered on how can you hear his voice in there but he can't?

"Ok what about this one, Sunsetz and John Wayne are definitely S tier, close enough to your voice." You bantered, scrolling through your phone to find more songs. "I still can't hear it (Y/n), try harder" he laughed with a smile on his face, panicking by the minute because instead of dropping you home, the two of you ended up buying food and ate inside his car that was parked outside the mall. 

Pulling out his phone to text his circle of "blood brothers".

-------------Tiddy_Lookers123-----------

6 online

•Xiaolong_bao: Bedo said he can make the album cover and give it around next week

•Eye of rabortion: Aight bet

•Gyatzuha: Guys, do I fr sound like Greg Gonzales? be honest.

•Heist_zoo: Greg Gonzales? CAS' main vocalist?

•Gyatzuha: Yes

•Backshotbatos: Tbh, yeah you do, your voice is just a taaaaad bit higher/lower tho

•Gyatzuha: Is that good or bad?

•Eye of rabortion: Why do u ask? is (Y/n) with you?

•Backshotbatos: OH! Didn't know ur the type to be so concerned Scara

•Eye of rabortion: She ranted to me about that like, 2 weeks ago non-stop fuck are you awn

•Gyatzuha: Yes she's with me in my car rn- what'd she say to you?

•Xiaolong_bao: "I'm having trouble differentiating Kazuha's voice with Greg, like He's the one singing it to me, is that weird?"

•Eye of rabortion: Yeah that, Can't she just spam listen to our album instead? You and Venti are legit our vocalists, we need the views and money

•Heist_zoo: She just wanna hear Kazuha and Kazuha only LMFAOOO

•Twinkerbell: She wants you so bad bro, we know you feel the same towards her

•Gyatzuha: Do I? I don't want to rush anything, and I'm sure she's neutral with me

•Eye of rabortion: You lit made 3 songs about her, raw and unpublished. While she's out there listening to people who sounds like you #GetTfUp #JustFckAlr

'Heist_zoo, Backshotbatos, & Twinkerbell reacted 😂'

•Gyatzuha: Wow

•Backshotbatos: Look she's trying to build a connection by "fantasizing" you, her doing that means you left an emotional impression on her to make her think that way about you trust #StayWithMeNow #GetDelusional

'Eye of rabortion reacted 💀' , 'Heist_zoo reacted 👀'

•Gyatzuha: ...I don't know if I should be flustered or shocked

•Xiaolong_bao: Both ngl  

•Twinkerbell: Dude, are you guys gonna do the deed? Y'all are listening to CAS in your car 

•Heist_zoo: Fuck I'm betting that they're gonna do it

•Gyatzuha: NO WE'RE NOT

•Backshotbatos: BETTTTT Kazuha c'mon please YALL WANT EACH OTHER SO BAD PLEASE #TakeThatCookie

•Twinkerbell: Real, we're here for support if things didn't go that way tho 

•Gyatzuha: GUYS--NO WE'RE NOT GONNA DO THAT OMFG

•Eye of rabortion: Right, I put condoms in your compartment box, You're welcome

'Gyatzuha reacted 😦, Twinkerbell reacted 🙊' 

•Gyatzuha: WHAT

•Backshotbatos: #SafetyFirst 

•Xiaolong_bao: Good luck  

•Heist_zoo: I'm so proud of him I'm gonna cry

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Kazuha looked up from his phone in a panic as you were mindlessly scrolling through your phone and faced him.

"Okay what about Opera House?, wanna listen to it?" You beamed at him as he nodded. Praying, hoping that you won't think of opening his compartment box infront of you if you needed some necessities.

"Oh by the way do you have any tissues? Windows are fogging up..." You said as you were cleaning up the food wrappers and soda cups while looking for tissues.

His heart jumped and in a flash he turned on the AC, the small light indicating that it was triggered as you feel the cool air hit your skin. Kazuha helping you clean and organize in the process.

"Oh! Thanks!" you said as he cleared his throat, Opera House playing in his speakers as you continued to admire how Greg's vocals matched up to his voice.

Kazuha was feeling nervous as he thought about what his friends texted, the info he had when you couldn't stop talking about him and the main vocalist almost having the "same" voice over and over.

The atmosphere used to be exciting yet neutral but now his heart won't stop beating, not sure if it's because Scara had the gal to put a pack of condoms in his car, or it's because you're here with him in his car that might lead up to what Aether said--

"You know, this song's one of my favorites.." you sighed, looking at the window watching droplets sliding down and connecting to each other, his head turning to your direction. Looking like you're remembering something nostalgic but kept up the happy go lucky façade.

"No matter how deeply in love and devoted you are to that one person, even if you'd go through extreme lengths knowing there's gonna be times where you get so hurt by them too--you just keep going because it makes life worthwhile--" You were giving a brief summary of the song and the more you continued, the more your tone was off, he can feel it in his bones every time you feel down or sad about something.

"....What's wrong? Did something happen?" He hesitantly blurted out, panic thrown out the window as concern flooded in. He didn't want to be up on your business unless you asked help from him. But with that tone? He had the urge to help you just because you were sad.

There was a pause for a few seconds, and before he could open his mouth, you spoke.

"Kazuha...is it bad, that I also like to hangout with you because of your voice?" You cautioned, voice soft and guilty as he sat there, not knowing what to say.

"Well...I-"

"Ok, I'm sorry I didn't mean it that way, what I meant is that--your voice is just so soothing that I can't stop listening to it...that's why I enjoy hanging out with you most of the time and listen to your band's album along with CAS--To hear more of you..it just brings me some type of comfort" You sighed, feeling bad for him because you didn't want to use him like that.

"You're a really great and kind person Kazu...I just wanted to let that out..." 

He was processing what you said, Do you really like him? the comfort he gives you with his voice? or just the idea of him you fantasized about? he was trying to understand if what you're implying was a good thing or not. So he's going to ask you personally just to make sure.

"(Y/n)...Do you like me? or just the image of me you built in your head?"

He wasn't mad, just curious as his eyes watched you shift in your seat, looking at him with a surprised look, "What? Of course I like you, but fantasizing you? Uhhh kinda? in a way?" You confessed, there's nothing wrong with doing a bit of fantasizing or projecting your feelings on someone who sounds like him.

"Ok, so what if one day, I suddenly don't have a voice, would you still hangout with me?" He asked, eyes eager as he stared at you. Acknowledging your confession but wanting to talk about your view of him first.

"Of course I will! you're still Kazuha with or without a voice"

"But you said that my voice brings you comfort that's why you listen to our band and CAS right?"

"...Yeah, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't stop hanging out with you, your company alone is more than enough, your voice is like a bonus to your whole character" you said as you look at him with warm cheeks.

What you said flattered him, you were the first person to ever get like this with him and appreciate him like no tomorrow, even without his voice, you'd still stay by his side. Thinking about this made his face red as he calmed himself down, "That's...very appreciative of you" He couldn't find the right words at the moment as the digital clock was striking close to 5 pm.

You half-heartedly sighed and chuckled, breaking the small silence "Well if it makes you feel better, I am attracted to your whole being. Ever since I heard one of your songs, your voice just got to me first.. that's why I'm so hell-bent on listening to it along with CAS...You could say I sound obsessed with you the more I listen, but knowing you personally as the days go by, I developed feelings the more I spend time with you.." You explained to him. No traces of doubt or lies present in your voice. He was going crazy at how much he doubted and hoped if you had feelings for him weeks ago, and now that the line's been straightened, it's been proven in front of him coming from you, It's real. 

Looking at you shyly as he pressed his lips in a thin line, understanding your part as he looked at the front, the sky was getting dark, rain still pouring, as there were less people walking by, going to their desired locations. 

"So...does that mean we're official?" He questioned again, he wants to make sure that your feelings for him are real as the both of you were looking at each other with hope and love.

"..Well, if you feel the same towards me like how I do to you, then yes" You assured him, heart fluttering because you're enjoying the time of your life with him in his car, in the most sweet and casual way.

So he laughed softly.

The good-looking boy with a voice of an angel laughed at you in relief, The music and his laugh almost synced in together that you could hear heaven.

"Thank God (Y/n)-- I love you too I'm flattered, really. To know that we share the same feelings with each other, I'm honestly scared of being used that's why I pestered you a lot... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you" The white haired boy confessed, looking at you with sorry eyes as you looked at him softly.

The feelings you have for him are strong. He understands you no matter how weird you get with what or who you think and fascinate about. He admired you like you were the strangest, most interesting thing he'd ever seen in his life.

"Oh Kazu... Please don't be sorry, it's understandable to be cautious. I'm sorry I made you feel that way..." leaning towards him to give him comfort and holding his hand in the process made him swallow the lump in his throat, heart lurching out his chest.

With the rollercoaster ride of emotions he felt an hour ago, he's now eager--too eager to get with you. Both of you confessing to each other, pouring out all your feelings and secrets, being transparent in each other's presence. 

His breath in a hitch, eyes lingered on your frame, a dark shade of red with a hint of orange that's full of...affection--full of want and need. 

"Kazuha? You okay?" You whispered, your eyes full of concern, your perfume hitting him hard as he felt blood rush to his cheeks and body at how close you are, warm and inviting as thoughts were racing, clearing his throat.

"Y-yeah, yes I am...thanks" he breathed out, eyes looking anywhere else but you.

"Did I say too much?"

His head snapped back to yours, you weren't smug, just concerned. But he felt hot despite the AC running for a good while, "No...not at all, you're just..''

Fuck was he entranced towards you, His body was not well rested, one elbow rested on top of the armrest as the other was loosely draped at the steering wheel.

You smiled at him, closely leaning to his face as your heart started beating fast and he did the same, eyeing your lips before looking back at your eyes. Tension creeping up fast as he closed the gap, mushing your lips against his gently. 

And Oh--Ohh the soft and electric feeling you have traveled all over your bodies, his hand left the steering wheel to touch you, to caress your back, lightly massaging and squeezing the sides as it traveled up and down. Your right hand lightly squeezing his cheek as your body weight shifted towards him, both of your arms now wrapping around his neck.

You felt him deepen the kiss as he slowly pushed the weight you held against him to give a balance. Mouths opening wide as the kiss went wild and rough, gasping and letting out moans coming from your mouth made him feral. If only the central armrest isn't in the way, he slowly pulled out, face red and breathing increased along with yours.

"Get in the back love"

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

You moaned and continued the heated process as you laid yourself in the backseat, only left with your bottoms and bra intact as he discarded his shirt. Heavily making out and muffling out moans, as you grabbed Kazuha like he's gonna disappear at any moment, clawing and grinding against him.

"Kazuha please.." you begged him, begged him to rail you, face written with no ounce of shame as his hands traveled down your pants, unbuttoning it and removing it with the underwear included.

Now you're mostly naked in front of him, looking at you like some goddess that came to visit him, and only him that he felt special. He held your hips, groping each side moderately then going in between your inner thighs as he leaned his head on your chest, trailing kisses till he reached down your stomach.

He likes to take his time with you and wants you to have your first experience with him to be unforgettable. Moving his hand and circling his fingers against your clit, close to your hole as you whimpered, hips bucking. Holy you're wet down there.

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

His ring and middle finger both went inside as you moaned, God you sound so angelic, he went up to kiss your ear and neck as his hot breath made you melt. His fingers were giving different motions--circular, scissors, and pump.

Your body jolted against him, his pace picked up as your bodies were linking to each other, hot and grinding. The windows foggy, car bouncing lightly, soft light coming from the touch screen audio, as music continued to play from your list.

You were close to reaching out your orgasm as Kazuha slowly sat up straight, gently pulling out his fingers as milky-white slick coated his fingers, dripping down the seat as he stared at it. The scent was pulling him closer, pulling him to taste you as he felt his mouth water, so then and there-- he raised his hand closer to his face, opening his mouth as his tongue licked a strip. 

Your taste drove him wild as the licks turned to him shoving his fingers down his throat, sucking all your slick as he moaned. You looked at him embarrassingly and in shocked as he finished having a taste of you. "Kazuha..." You breathed out, your stomach tightening as you feel yourself drip more of your essence. 

He looked at you with love and lust before slowly getting up from his spot, reaching out to the passenger side as he opened his compartment box to indeed see a pack of condoms bought by Scara. Taking it and sitting back down, your face was red, thinking that he was prepared for situations like these.

"My...friends, bought this for me because they know we want each other this bad..." He confessed to you, both of your faces were red. You wanted to let out a small laugh because of how supportive they are towards him.

"I... It's okay Kazu, better to be safe you know?" You giggled, you thought that he was ready for such mature activities--but his friends had to do him a favor instead.

"Do you want to continue my love?" He asked you, God his voice made you squirm as you nodded. He leaned on top of you, placing his lips against yours lovingly and hungry, your hands pulled his hair back leaving marks as he groaned, his other hand shifting down to his pants, pulling them down impatiently as he rubbed his shaft up and down.

You breathed out as you felt him rip off the condom package, placing the thin rubber on his tip and carefully pull it down, he then looked at you for confirmation as you nodded. Placing your hands on his shoulders as he lifted you by the hips, aligning his dick on your entrance as he slowly out it in.

You both moaned, your legs wrapped around him, locking him I'm place as he started thrusting, hitting. Every. Spot.

Cum starting to leak out and drop down the seat, soaking it in the process as the car moved sideways, violently. He was thrusting harder and faster as you were screaming his name, he let out a laugh as he kissed you to drown out your moans. Thank God his windows were tinted and there's not much people around.

"Kazuha... I'm.." you said between kisses and pants, feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated, he feels too good.

"Shhhh...I know Angel.." he mumbled, kissing your lips then forehead, giving you a headpat as he held you closer like you were made of glass, but pounded on you hard and fast.

"Ah...hhaahh~" you tried to keep your moans as quiet as possible, reaching your climax as Kazuha cummed with how hard you were squeezing him. You arched your back once more knowing it's going to ache later, reaching your orgasm as you squirted while he was ramming inside of you, the climax was so good that he went quiet mid-moaning, oh how good you felt milking him out like that.

You both panted as he placed a kiss on your neck before he removed himself from you, discarding the condom into the trash where you threw the food platter you guys ate at awhile ago. 

"...So...how was it?" He asked you, grabbing your hands to sit you up gently, and covering you with his jacket while you leaned on him.

"It was--really great...makes me want to go for another round" you joked as he laughed.

"We can do that when we're somewhere more secluded love.." he breathed out, cradling you as he looked at the time, not seeing his phone was booming with notifications.

-------------Tiddy_Lookers123-----------

5 online

•Eye of rabortion: sent an attachment 

•Backshotbatos: HOLY SHIT DID THEY REALLY DO IT

•Heist_zoo: THEY DID, THEY FUCKING DID

•Heist_zoo: @Kkaedehara GET YOUR ASS IN HEREEEEE

•Twinkerbell: YALL LEAVE THEM ALONEEEEE😭😭😭🙏 KAZUHA'S GON BE MAD ABT THIS

•Xiaolong_bao: I can't with y'all rn☠️ no fucking way you recorded it

•Eye of rabortion: it's not like I recorded them "doing it", it's just his car moving sideways, that's when you know🙏

•Backshotbatos: ON A PUBLIC SERVER TOO, MY BOY HAS NO SHAME😭😭🥀

•Heist_zoo: HE'S SO BRAVE FOR IT IM GONNA APPLAUD WHEN I SEE HIM

•Twinkerbell: OOOUUH TELL HIM TO CHANGE HIS PLATE NUMBER😭😭

•Xiaolong_bao: Y'all better not be leaking that video anywhere else🫩

•Eye of rabortion: Obvi we won't 🥀

•Backshotbatos: Y'ALL WE GOTTA GREET HIM WELL ON MONDAY FOR THE LOSS OF HIS V CARD

•Twinkerbell: NAH GET OUT😭

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

(A/n): Ok so...I hope you enjoyed this fic but ogmyhgod, I just really HATE IT when Tumblr has these errors everytime I edit my drafts on my phone. Like when I went to check my drafts after 2 hours not knowing that it was posted so I rushed the end, fuck it's so embarrassing when shit like this happens. And yes I both edit on the PC and phone, I just use my notes app to double save. NEVERRRRR am I gonna type drafts in phone again ToT

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Proof that dynamite has a heart, part two.

You needed to find him, to explain to him in anyway possible that he had gotten the wrong idea. You could pummel him so he was forced to listen….no he was too strong. You could write him a letter….hed just burn it up before reading it. You could call his mum….that was stupid, if he wasn’t going to listen to you theres no way he’d ever listen to her. You were lost, nothing could make sense to you in this moment, nothing came to mind to help you make him realise…until you heard footsteps behind you. It was the reporter, shakily holding his camera from his hands. He was recording all of that?! Youd just saved his life and he was broadcasting your most vulnerable moments to the entire world? You slammed your fist down, surrounding you in a cloud of smoke as you ran off, you were broken and angry, at the world, at him, at katsuki for not listening, at yourself for letting the reporter even get close enough to you to brush your face. Everything felt like it was burning up around you, you couldnt breathe, you couldn’t stop shaking, your whole world had been ripped away from you in an instant, and now everyone was going to think Katsuki was a monster for shouting at you.

You didnt know where to go, so you ended up back at his apartment. He wasn’t home, you could see this from the lack of light illuminating the windows, and the lack of explosions erupting from inside. You went in and fell straight onto his bed, screaming and crying into his pillow, desperately trying to decide if it was right for you to even be here anymore. Every tiny noise made you jump, terrified that he was going to come home and instantly blast you out of there. You write three notes for him, the first a long explanation as to what had happened, knowing it would probably be incinerated before it was read, the second a slightly shorter message apologising and asking to talk, that would also be blown up instantly. The last read,

‘Im sorry. I’ll leave you alone. I will always love you.’

With the ring placed ontop of it. You wanted to write more, wanted to pour your heart out, but you knew he was far too angry to read, to understand, youd ruined his life on live television without meaning to. You packed up all the little trinkets that you had scattered around his apartment, all the photos of you two together, all the silly little love notes he swore he hated but still kept in their places anyway, your fuzzy slippers and hair bands strew across the bathroom too, that he swore cluttered up the place. You eradicated anything that would remind him of you, you only left one photo on his desk, a photo of the both of you on your first day at his Agency. Youd forced him to take the photo, to prove to the world that he wasnt that scary, and that indeed dynamite had a heart. You kissed the faded photo of him and placed it back down on his desk, turning around and lugging your bags over your shoulders and leaving your key posted back through the door as you locked it. You knew he wasn’t the type to pine over you, he didn’t need constant reminders of you flooding his safe space, so you left no trace of your life together behind.

Youd assumed hed gone back to the agency to beat kirishima up to let his anger out, kirishima was always good like that, he let Katsuki use him as his emotional punching bag. He told everyone it was a way of making sure his quirk was as strong as it needed to be to be a pro hero, but you knew he was doing it to help Katsuki, to save him from burning up from the inside out. You wanted to ring him and explain what had happened, to beg for his forgiveness for hurting his best friend, as if youd done anything wrong, but you knew you couldnt. Not yet. You didn’t need Katsuki thinking you were sleeping with him too, he needed his best friend, you couldnt let anything get in the way of that. So you rang izuku, if anyone knew Katsuki it was him.

“Izuku, I need you. Im sorry it’s late, and I’m sorry we haven’t talked much in the past few days, I just…” You couldnt hold your tears back any longer, they were flooding your throat and your cheeks. “I can’t lose him, please.”

“I’ll be with you in a few minutes, meet me at the coffee shop by his apartment, it’s okay you won’t lose him.” Izuku was stern but soft spoken, he knew he needed to be there for you.

You stood tapping your foot against the floor as you leant against the building, your cigarette barely touched as it burnt out in your fingers. Izuku walked up to you and hugged you, embracing his arms tightly around you as you tried to stifle back your tears. He offered you a tissue to dry your tears, as you both continued to walk through the town.

“I can only imagine how badly he’s hurting Kirishima right now. I know he’s tough, but kacchans explosions are a next level type of brutality.” Izuku spoke sweetly, his green hair dancing in the wind as he tried his best to comfort you.

“Yeah, Im assuming he’s there too, I feel bad for forcing kirishima to put up with that shit..” Izuku interrupted you,

“You haven’t forced anyone to do anything, don’t worry. Be kind to yourself, you’ve done nothing wrong. I know it may seem like you’re the worst person in the world right now, but I promise you you’re not. Okay?” His sweet smile warmed your heart, you knew he was the best person to help you calm down, his demeanour was soft and kind, even if he didn’t have such immense power hed still be the most powerful hero around with that smile.

“Im gonna kill that report I swear…” You said looking at your feet, trying to get the picture of his face out of your head. Izuku stopped in his tracks, a finger to his chin as he mumbled to himself.

“The recording equipment is his quirk correct? Maybe he recorded the whole ordeal between you two? Maybe you could ask to get a record of it to show Katsuki, prove to him how it all happened?”

“You think either of them would listen to me right now?” You looked at him with half lidded swollen eyes, your desperation faltering at this proposal, there was not enough force in the world to get Katsuki to listen to you right now.

“Theres only one way to find out. You head to the reporter and I’ll head to kacchan, I’ll meet you at the agency in half an hour. I promise you I’ll get kacchan to listen to you, even if it means using reasonable force.” His smile quivered at his lip, his eyes tearing up as his determination shone through. You hugged him tightly and nodded, a small thank you managed to slip through your tight throat as he nodded and shot off towards his impending fight with Katsuki.

You managed to track down the reporter, pleading to him to let the footage free so you could show Katsuki that you didn’t want the kiss, didnt want the world to think youd cheated on him and worse yet, didnt want the world to think of him as a monster.

“And why would I do that? Our ratings are through the roof, everyone saw how he hurt you, they’re all furious at him for hurting his side kick, better yet his girlfriend. They don’t need convincing hes a monster, this was just the last final push to show them what they already feared. It means great things for you too, you rejected me and then became the wounded hero, left broken and bruised as the promise of marriage got ripped away from you. They love you! You’ll be the number two in no time…”His voice trailed off as he saw you drop to your knees, clutching your chest crying at his feet.

“Please…I can’t lose him. Hes everything to me. It’ll eat him up inside, it’ll shatter his heart. Please, he doesn’t deserve anymore pain, he’s been through enough.” You heard the click of the reporters quirk activate as you pleaded to him, looking up and being met with a camera lens an inch away from your face.

“What a sweet hero, begging to try save Dynamite, even thought he hurt her. This ladies and gentleman is what coercion in a relationship looks like, watch as she begs, tries to sacrifice herself to protect the man who hurt her. If you or anyone you love is being hurt by a partner then please dont refrain from calling the appropriate authorities.” The shock and anger became too much for you to handle. You grabbed the reporter by the throat and lifted him above your head as you let the flames engulf your other hand. You spoke directly to the lens in your face.

“This reporter is trying to destroy dynamites reputation by withholding important information. For the safety of the pro hero’s name, and the sanity of myself, I will now force him to active his quirk and show you the recording he has of him forcing himself onto me. I by no means condone the type of behaviour I am about to demonstrate, it is purely to clear dynamites name and show the world how cruel and misconstrued reporters can be. Im sorry.” And with that you reached your burning flames to the reporters chest, engulfing it entirely in warm sparks. Your flames weren’t particularly powerful in this instance, but you let them burn slightly hotter than youd wanted to, as his quirk activated and he replied the events that had caused the world to think dynamite had attacked you.

The world saw him advance you, you reject him, your declaration of love for dynamite, then Katsuki seeing everything from a distance. It was clear it had been misconstrued through the reporter, and what they all had thought was dynamite attacking you, was his frustration and anger at his own miscalculation of the events. You didn’t want everyone to see Katsuki being vulnerable, you knew he’d be beyond pissed at them seeing him nearly cry ontop of you, but you needed the world to see the truth. You went to dim your flames as the last of the recording played, but then it flicked to the reporter paying the villain money for his role in the carefully constructed play. He had planned this whole ordeal out, every moment, every tiny detail.

“You…you planned this? You planned our downfall for what….more ratings? The chance to potentially get your dick wet when I was beyond vulnerable? You’re a disgusting villain….” The flames burnt brighter as you clutched his neck harder in your fist. You wanted to kill him, wanted to make an example out of him, to show what really happens when you fuck around with hero’s lives. You were suddenly stopped as izuku and Katsuki shouted at you from behind you, carefully keeping their distance. You flicked your head to meet their gaze, lowering the reporter slightly as you saw how concerned izuku looked. You didn’t want them to see you as dangerous, but they looked at you with extreme caution and fear.

“Y/n, can you please put the reporter down? I spoke to kacchan and we saw the live stream, he believes you! Just, put your flames out, everything’ll be okay.”

Izukus voice shook, youd heard this tone before, he was talking to you like a villain. You felt disgusted in yourself, you lowered the reporter and extinguished your flames, falling to your knees and crying into your hands. Youd never seen that look of concern and anxiety in Katsukis eyes before, he truly thought of you as a threat in that moment.

Suddenly, as the reporter scrambled away from you, your whole body became engulfed in blue flames. You were too hurt, too broken, your quirk had become too much to handle, it had evolved into something unmanageable. You cried and screamed as your heart shattered inside your chest, not only had you lost your best friend, your future husband, but now there was no coming back from him looking at you like a villain. Your worst nightmares had been realised and played out right infront of you.

Your guttural screams shattered katsukis chest, as his feet moved before his mind, izuku tried to stop him but he was too fast. He burst through your flames as they scorched his skin, he dropped to his knees and held you against him. Your flames burnt the skin surrounding his forearms, his face, his chest, but he didn’t care. He winced through the pain and held you tighter, tears burning up before they could reach his cheeks. He sobbed into your head as you clung to him, desperately trying to put your flames out, but seeing they couldnt so easily be turned off, you started back away from him, screaming for him to leave you alone.

“Get back kats! I can’t turn them off! I can’t burn you like this, please, just run!” He grabbed your collar and pulled you into a passionate kiss. Your fire dancing around you both, now creating a circle forming around you both.

“Not a fucking chance, if you burn up then so do I, you fucking idiot. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you.” As he embraced you and continued to cover you in kisses, your flames finally diminished, along with the help from izukus wind pressure. You lay in katsukis arms, burnt and breathing deeply, trying to get any oxygen you could, he looked down at you with burns singeing his own skin, as he whispered to you before you lost consciousness,

“How could I ever let the heart of Katsuki Bakugo ever burn up. You’re stuck with me now idiot, I’ll marry you and show the world that no one fucks with us, not now, not ever.”

You could see his smile fading away as your eyes fluttered closed, he really did believe you and izuku, he really did love you. If you died now, youd did happy knowing he loved you just as much as you loved him.

[gtgbabie0]

Cowboy!Remus Lupin x Reader

Synopsis: {You’re the preachers daughter but God be damned he just can’t keep away even if it’s to see you for just a small moment}

Cowboy Remus, you have saved lives. Enjoy lovelies 💕

The sunset casts over the horizon, painting the clouds in the prettiest colours, a pinky-orangey mixture swirling throughout the sky. It makes for a beautiful sight as Remus makes his way through the plains on his brown Spanish Mustang, a loyal horse that’s been with him through thick and thin.

He knows where he’ll end up, back at your father’s small ranch house despite the tiny part of his mind that screams at him to turn around. Your father would shoot him, he reckons, he might be a man of faith but you’re his little girl.

With a soft groan, he runs his hand through his horse's mane as he trots across the trodden grass. He continues on the path to your ranch, excitement bubbling up inside him as your house comes into his line of sight.

Remus knows that you’ll be alone, this isn’t the first time he’s been here, sneaking around like some damn outlaw. He knows your father is off in town doing his daily sermons that last for hours. He can’t help but smirk at the idea of getting a moment alone with you… his sweetheart. Even if it’s fleeting.

He’s tying his horse to the hitching post just by the white fencing of your house when you come rushing over to him with a joyous expression. That sweet smile of yours is enough to make anyone fall to their knees. Remus nods to you, taking off his hat as he holds it to his chest.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me.” You say, giggling softly. You lean over the fencing as he walks over to you, hooking his hat on the white wood.

He shakes his head, and his calloused palm grazes your cheek as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “How could I forget ‘bout you?” He asks with a grin, admiring the soft cotton dress you’re wearing and the way the fabric ripples through the wind.

It was true, there wasn’t a world where Remus could ever forget about you, your soft skin and pretty eyes are practically engraved into his mind and heart. That’s why he’s here, standing in front of you despite his better judgment and the fact he knows that your father, deep down, would never approve of him dating you.

The smell of the outdoors and firewood lingers on his sun-kissed skin. You’re hit with it as he leans down slightly to press a soft kiss against your cheek.

“Have you eaten yet?… and I mean a good meal.” Your question makes his heart swell with love and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ve eaten sweetheart.” He promises, pressing his thumb against your chin, he tilts your head upwards to look at him as he steps closer to you with his other hand resting against your hip.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist before slipping your hands into his back pockets. A habit you’ve picked up on from him. He smirks down at you.

“Are you coming in?” God, the way his mind spins with that question and how badly he wants to say ‘yes’ and stay with you.

“Can’t stay for long, baby. James and Sirius are expecting me down at the Saloon.” He tells you, soothing his thumb along your jaw as you pout up at him with a look of disappointment in your eyes.

“Oh, come on now.” He chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips. “Don’t give me that face, pretty thing. you know why I can’t stay.”

Remus presses another kiss to your lips as your expression softens. “He’s gonna find out one day.” You’ve got a point, one day Remus will have to bite the bullet and fish out a neat suit to meet your strict father.

“Hmm… not if I steal ya away first.” He teases, enjoying the way you roll your eyes slightly with a huff. He tugs you closer to him by your hips. “Promise, one day I’ll let ya introduce me to him.” He says, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he takes in the scent of your flowery perfume.

You decide to trust him, after all, he’s never once lied to you before. Remus just isn’t the type, he’s a man that values trust and he’d never take yours for granted.

“Why’d you come all the way out here then?” Your question makes him lift his head up from your shoulder, his eyebrow-raising with a playful look.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face.” He states simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “I don’t need an excuse to come and see ya do I?”

You shake your head, looking up at him. “No… I’m glad you came, I’ve missed you.” There it goes again, your words make his chest bloom with a warmth that leaves a sickly sweet taste in his mouth.

“Missed you too baby.” He whispers, his fingers fiddling with the dainty golden cross that sits against your collarbones. He knows your father will be back soon, he should get going but at the same time, he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Remus takes your hands in his own, glancing over to his horse before looking back down to you. “You wanna go riding with me tomorrow?” He asks, hope gleaming in his honeyed eyes.

The excitement in your expression is truly a sight he’ll never get bored of. “Of course, I’ll wait for you after breakfast.” You tell him and he hums in agreement, picking his hat up and fixing it on his head.

“Better get some sleep then, I’ll be here early.” He smiles, caressing your warm cheek with his thumb. He tilts his hat up slightly so he can lean down and press a loving kiss to your lips that tapers off into small pecks.

“I will love you, cowpoke.” You whisper against his lips, shying away from him ever so slightly as he trails his lips along your jaw to your cheek, he grins against your soft skin.

“Love you too.” He whispers, fixing his hat once more.

He kisses your forehead before walking over to his horse, unhitching him from the post before saddling up. With a wave he clicks his tongue and his horse is off, carrying him away from the ranch, leaving only a promise of returning tomorrow.

-Art by @/sophithil on twt

[eclipixels]

Let me get uhhhh sae x reader where she’s forcing bro to do the Me Jalo by fuerza Regina trend that’s been going on 🙏🏻

Me Jalo

Sae Itoshi x Reader

Content: Filming tiktok dances with Sae, lol

[1,128 words]

      The festival was loud, music pumping through the warm, gold-tinted air, fireworks launching like confetti cannons above a pink-orange horizon. Lanterns swung overhead, cotton candy spun in clouds, and every third person had their phone out, capturing the summer magic.

      You, of course, had other plans.

      “Come onnnn, Sae. Just one video. That’s it.”

      You were already pulling on his hand, your phone in the other, TikTok open to the viral “Me Jaló” audio. The camera was framed, ready, waiting just like you.

      Sae Itoshi stood there like a statue. Unmoved. Unbothered. Utterly beautiful and so stubborn.

      “No.” He flicked his eyes away from the camera and toward the firework show. “This is stupid.”

      “But everyone’s doing it.”

      “I’m not everyone.”

      “Please?” You gave him a grin that was half challenge, half pleading, all irresistible. And Sae hated how it worked. You bounced on your heels, already doing the little pre-dance move, the one where you tug his arm like the lyrics say, “Me jaló,” as if his body should follow.

      He didn’t move.

      Yet.

      “Sae,” you sing-songed, inching closer, lowering your voice. You prepared your puppy-dog eyes, batting your lashes up at him.

      A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You're manipulative.”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      To your total delight, he finally gave in with a sigh so dramatic it could’ve earned him an acting award. The music kicked in. You did the tug. He let his arm go limp. You did your cute bounce. He followed. Barely. It was stiff, awkward, and ridiculous.

      The sunset backlit his expression, blank, slightly annoyed, but faintly blushing. Somewhere in the background, a firework burst into a heart.

      You giggled mid-video, nearly botching the move.

      He caught your waist with that pro-player instinct of his. Still in sync, still low-key perfect even when pretending to be bad.

      “See?” you whispered as the music ended and you stopped recording. “You can have fun.”

      Sae raised an eyebrow. “I did not have fun.”

      You showed him the playback.

      He watched in silence. Then, “...Post it. But don’t tag me.”

      “Too late. #BoyfriendTrend.”

      He glared. You kissed his cheek. Another firework exploded, louder this time, and for just a second, the world lit up in color.

      After your phone was safely tucked away, you turned to Sae, grinning like you’d just won the lottery. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

      He let you lace your fingers through his without protest. His hand was warm, strong, and familiar like a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere, even if you were dragging him through sparkly chaos and silly dance trends.

      The sky had turned a deep, dusky violet now, stars barely peeking through the veil of fading fireworks. The crowds had thickened, the festival in full swing. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed victoriously over winning a giant stuffed Pikachu.

      “Let’s get food,” you said, already scanning the stalls.

      “Only if it’s not on a stick.”

      “That’s 90% of festival food, Sae.”

      He sighed but let himself be tugged toward the neon-lit row of food stands. You ended up with a paper tray of takoyaki and a fluffy swirl of pastel cotton candy.

      You offered him a piece. He took a bite from your fingers. You leaned against him as you walked, cotton candy in one hand, your other wrapped around his arm. The world fizzled around you with music, kids laughing, but none of it was too loud. Not next to Sae.

      He wasn’t the type to say much, but he did things. Like subtly steering you out of the way of a running child. Or holding your drink without asking when you bent down to fix your sandal. Or offering his hoodie when a breeze blew through, even if he rolled his eyes like you were the most high-maintenance creature alive.

      “Wanna try the ring toss?” you asked, pointing at a stall with cheap prizes and crooked booths.

      “What do I need to win? I have you.”

      You blinked. He looked away immediately. “Forget I said that.”

      You didn’t. You never would. Instead of teasing him, you reached up on tiptoe, kissed the edge of his jaw, and whispered, “You’re kind of perfect.”

      “I’ve noticed you eyeing that fluffy unicorn prize at the ring toss.” He whispered against your lips. “You want me to win it for you, don’t you?”

      You nodded. Sae followed your gaze. “That’s... offensively pink.”

      “Exactly. It's perfect.”

      He stared at the rings. Then at the tiny bottle necks arranged in their cruel little grid. His eyes narrowed. Sae sighed, but he was already fishing out a few bills. The bored carnie handed him a stack of plastic rings. “Thia game is rigged, you know.”

      You stepped back, excitement bubbling. “You got this, babe.”

      He didn’t respond. He was already calculating angles like he was about to hit a free kick from midfield.

      First ring: bounce. Miss.

      Second ring: miss again, just barely. He frowned..

      He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched.

      By the fourth ring, his competitive spirit had fully kicked in. This was no longer about the unicorn. This was about defeating the game. He adjusted his stance, turned his wrist slightly, took a breath—

      Clink.

      The ring spun around a bottle neck and landed. A perfect shot.

      You gasped. “You did it!”

      Sae barely blinked. “Of course I did.”

      The carnie gave a slow clap and muttered something about luck, but handed over the fluffy prize anyway.

      You reached for it eagerly, hugging the soft unicorn to your chest like a child. “She’s beautiful. Her name is Sae 2.”

      His eye twitched. “You’re not serious.”

      “She’s also emotionally repressed and pretends not to care, but deep down she just wants love and snacks.”

      “I’m leaving.”

      You caught his arm before he could walk off. “No, you’re not. You’re taking a picture with Sae 2.”

      “I’m absolutely not—”

      Click.

      Too late. You showed him the photo: him standing with a blank face, the unicorn squished between you, and your cheek squished against his arm.

      “New lock screen,” you said proudly.

      He groaned under his breath but didn’t protest when you leaned against him, unicorn in tow, your smile brighter than the next round of fireworks.

      Eventually, the night began to wind down. You two ended up seated on a grassy hill just outside the crowds, where the last of the fireworks painted the sky in bursts of light and noise. Sae sat with one leg bent, the other stretched out, arm behind you like a quiet invitation.

      You leaned into him, cheek against his shoulder.

      No more music. No more dancing. Just the soft thump of your heartbeat syncing with his.

      “Thanks for coming with me,” you murmured.

      “I wouldn’t have gone with anyone else.”

[starryschemer]

Shattered Odds - (Chapter Twelve)

Pairings: Salesman x reader

Summary: Gi-hun finds himself in a high-stakes game with not only his life but the life of someone he cares deeply about. You. Can Gi-hun outsmart the salesman? Or will the odds catch up with him?

Warnings: Dubious consent (Dubcon), emotional manipulation/abuse, strong language, power dynamics, references to past trauma, verbal threats, possessive behavior, graphic violence, blood and gore, dark themes, angst

Taglist: @aesthetic-winchesters @therandomofpink @cowuies @alzeralz

A/N: Please note that the future chapters will be delayed slightly, I am going on a holiday with my family for 2 weeks. Will still be able to post during that time, they just won't be as often.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Chapter Twelve - The trigger and the aftermath

Word Count - 3,593

The sound of the gunshot was still ringing in your ears, you were frantically trying to stem the warm flow of blood that pumped between your fingers. Pain throbbed, you were hot too, but it was nothing next to that betrayal. The way he looked at you just before he pulled the trigger kept returning in your mind. Calm, collected, disappointed. But you also saw a tad of hurt in them. 

Did he care about you? 

No, he couldn’t. He was probably just trying to manipulate you more than they have already. However, you weren’t sure what hurt more, the laceration in your flesh or the one in your chest.

You slowly stood up, wobbling slightly, as you stepped towards the hallway, your vision was already swimming. Your knees began to buckle, not once, but twice, causing you to crash your shoulder into the wall, supporting you upright.

You couldn’t fall. Not yet.

Pushing off from the wall you stumbled on. Each step felt like you were carrying concrete blocks around your feet. The room was spinning violently, the lights above you were dancing, bleeding into the shadows.

Blood dripped out behind you now, a steady stream raining all over the carpet. 

You didn’t dare look back. You knew how bad it was, just by the warmth seeping through your clothes, by the way your hands were beginning to go numb, by the way your body was swaying with each intake of breath.

And still, you managed to move.

In front of the bathroom door, one hand slick with blood as you stumbled for the knob. You were almost out of strength. The agony was deafening, screaming through you whenever you took a breath. 

The last strength went into twisting the knob, shoving the door open, and dragging yourself inside. You immediately shut the door behind you, stumbling in motion, as you locked it with trembling hands. 

You collapse, your back scraping slowly down the door with a thud. You smack into the tiles hard, your side crashing against the freezing ceramic. It startled your body but did not help wake you.

Everything around you was starting to fade.

Your heart was pounding, masking all the other sounds. You could partly hear your own gasping breaths.

“Get up,” muttering under your breath, tears pricking your eyelids. “We can’t fucking die, dammit.”

Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself forward, inch by inch. Blood was starting to streak across the tiles. Your whole body was in pain, but you refused to stop until you made it to the cabinet under the sink.

You fumbled with the door. On the second attempt, it swung open.

There you found some alcohol, some gauze, and some medical tape. You wrapped your shaky hands around all of them before a black pulse clouded your vision.

The pain was intolerable, but the cold of the room was far worse. It was the type of cold that begins at your fingertips, slowly working its way up to the rest of your body. The sort of cold that made your bones ache. 

You attempted to straighten against the sink, catching your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t even know who you were anymore.

Your skin was pale, sickly even. The clothes were now stained in a deep crimson with blood, which was still spreading more and more. Your eyes widened, they looked haunted, shocked. You looked like a dying animal.

And maybe you were. Maybe you were dying. 

You leaned forward and tried washing your hands before pressing the gauze into the wound. It burned. It hurt. Your whole body shook, tears streaming down your face, but you couldn’t stop now. You knew how it went. You weren’t going to die, not now at least.

Grunting, you reached for the bottle of alcohol and uncapped it with your teeth. 

“You can do it,” you told yourself.

And you did.

Pouring some of it on your wound. The pain was the worst thing you have ever felt. It was unholy. You screamed, hearing it bounce off the tile walls. You started convulsing, eyes briefly rolling back in your head.

You tried to fasten the gauze in place with the tape, however, your fingers were too slick with blood. The tape slipped, landing on the ground and rolling out next to you. 

Your arms gave out, then your body. Ending up falling to the tiles, your cheek on the ground. You blinked your eyes once. Twice. Three times. 

Everything slowed in the bathroom.

The lights flickered, your sight tunneled, black bleeding in from the sides like it was spilled ink.

The blood wasn’t stopping, it was spreading from under you in a pool that was only going to become deeper. It was weirdly cozy against the cold of the floor, and you felt, for a moment, almost numb. Almost at peace.

So this was it. 

You weren’t a player. Not a fighter. Just one more thing for the Salesman to shove out of the way once it stopped being convenient. Stopped being entertaining. 

You stopped crying. You didn’t even try to call out for him. You just allowed the silence to consume you, because even then, even after everything. You refused to let him win.

The Salesman’s steps echoed, measured, and sharp. He had just gone out for a few minutes. A brief moment. 

He had gone to take a call. To cool himself down, if only for a moment.

But when he entered the room again, he noticed you weren’t in front of the chair anymore. Only saw a pool of blood where you were sitting down against the wall.

His brows came together, confusion slightly pulling at the edge of his mouth. He couldn’t hear any footsteps, no sound. Just the slight noise of cars going about outside. 

“Y/N?” He yelled, his tone smug, filled with amusement. “Where’d you go, huh? You’re not actually sulking after I shot you, are you?”

No answer came.

He scanned the room before his eyes turned toward the bathroom door.

Closed. The only door that was closed.

His steps slowed down. He noticed the blood on the handle before trying to twist the door open. 

Locked.

That made him chuckle, a crooked grin forming. 

“Seriously?”

The Salesman started tapping the door with his knuckles in a rhythm like he was trying to coax a child out of a hiding place. “Come on. Don’t be so dramatic. I understand that you’re upset, but this…locking yourself in the bathroom….this is not going to change anything. This is not going to fix anything.”

Still nothing. Pure silence.

It didn’t seem like your usual silence. It wasn’t the silence he was used to, the kind drenched in sass or fury, the kind that howled without saying a word. This one felt different, wrong. Too heavy. Too still.

He banged on the door hard.

“Y/N,” he said again, more anger showing this time. The edge of the amused look had been blunted. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR NOW.”

Still, no response.

Cold and biting, something crawled up his spine then as he sniffed the air. 

There it was.

Blood.

He looked down at his feet, feeling something wet brushing them, noticing blood spilling out from under the door, glistening against the lights. 

He became rigid, stood frozen. 

“...Y/N?”

This time, his voice cracked slightly, and a single tear formed in his eyes.

A beat passed. Then he moved fast.

He rammed his shoulder against the door once, twice, three times. The sound of it echoed down the halls like a gunshot. His teeth started to clench, his breath becoming sharp and ragged.

“Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR!”

Still no answer. Nothing.

Panic made its way to his chest, violent and big, like a flower with thorns. He didn’t think about what happened to you. He couldn’t. He backed up slightly, grabbed the gun from the belt with a practiced flick, and without a moment’s pause.

BANG.

The lock exploded. He immediately kicked the door open, splitting some wood at the hinges, gun still raised, heart pounding. The lights were still flickering in the bathroom.

And then he noticed you.

Slumped over, half-curling on the floor. Blood was all over the ground below you. A roll of gauze had fallen at the side of your open hand, tape unwound and sticky with blood on the tiles. An alcohol bottle spilled, mixed with the blood in a horrific swirl.

You weren’t moving. It didn’t look like you were even breathing. 

“Shit.”

The word came out in a whisper, horrified. Fragile. 

He quickly knelt beside you, throwing the gun on the ground causing the tiles to rattle. He placed his hands on you gently. They were shaking when he turned you over to face him. You looked pale, your skin was ice-cold.

“No, no, no…”

He placed two fingers on your neck. There. A pulse. Very weak. But you were still alive.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “What the hell did I-”

His voice was breaking now, all that composed smugness was peeling off. This was not meant to happen. He always planned things. He was always, and I mean always in control.

But this-

This was chaos to him.

He slapped his hand hard over your wound, trying to stop the bleeding from worsening. 

“Don’t die, Y/N. Don’t fucking die on me now.”

The Salesman was becoming desperate in his tone, which only made the air feel much heavier for him. 

He fidgeted for his phone, your blood greasing the screen as he dialed. It only rang once before someone answered.

“Get to the Pink Motel. Now.”

A shocked, muffled voice replied. The Salesman didn’t care.

“She is bleeding out, gunshot. If she dies, you die. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

A stammered excuse. A pause.

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR DATE NIGHT WITH YOUR WIFE, YOUR ANNIVERSARY, ALRIGHT? You can apologize or make it up to her later. That is, if I let you live.”

Another distant murmur. 

“Ten minutes. You have only ten fucking minutes. If you come late, you better pray to whatever gods you believe in that she is still breathing when you step through that door, or you will be wishing, begging you were the one bleeding out on this very floor.”

The voice on the other end spoke again.

The Salesman interrupted with a snarl. “Bullet went clean through, low right. She is very cold. Not talking. Her pulse is barely there.”

He continued.

“I HAVE DONE WHAT I FUCKING CAN. SHE NEEDS YOU NOW. NOT IN TWENTY. NOT IN TWELVE. TEN. OR LESS!”

A faint protest.

“No, you listen to me. You owe me. If you don’t come, if she dies, your body will be sliced up all across the city. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

A quiet acceptance, maybe. Silence. 

He didn’t wait to hear it. 

He threw the phone away, causing it to smash against the tiles. His hands were shaking. He leaned over you once more, bringing you to his torso. You slumped against his chest, your breath coming in and out weakly, but he could feel it. 

He rested his head on the side of your neck, sobbing slightly.

“You stupid, stubborn thing,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You weren’t supposed to be hurt like this. I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean to hurt you this badly.”

His bare chest was now smeared with your blood. His hands. His boxers. 

And for the first time in a very long time. 

He was terrified. 

He didn’t even remember standing up.

Didn’t see the way your arms were wrapped around the back of his neck, how you buried your face into his bare chest, how his arms linked beneath your knees and shoulders, holding your body against him like you might break, that you were made of glass.

Your head moved into the nook of his neck. It was so light. Too light.

“Fuck, stay with me, Y/N,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He knew you probably couldn’t even hear him anyway. More blood was soaking all over his form but he didn’t care.

He never should have left you alone. He never should of pulled the damn trigger. He never should have let it go this far. The regret was eating at his insides.

The Salesman carefully placed you on the bed as if you were made of porcelain, terrified even his breath would shatter you more.

And almost immediately the sheets beneath you went dark with your blood.

“Fucking hell…”

He softly held the side of his hand against your cheek. Cold. It was still too cold. He brushed away some of your hair matted with blood from your face with their fingers that trembled.

Your lips were still parted. Breathing shallow. Barely breathing at all.

“Please…don’t do this,” his voice said in a cracked tone.

You didn’t answer.

He stood up so fast, causing him to almost trip as he stepped back from the bed. His hands clawed at his mouth, trailing down their jaw as if he could somehow hold himself together. 

He turned his back to you. Beginning to pace. One step. Two. Where the hell was the doctor, though?

“I SAID TEN MINUTES,” He boomed, looking at his watch. “IT’S BEEN FIVE. FIVE.”

He moved to the window. Then the wall. Then the edge of the bed, again. His heart was now in his throat, guilt twisting around his spine like a vise, pacing like a madman. His power, his control had fallen apart completely.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress, his elbow on his knee, hand still covering his mouth. However, his gaze never left yours.

“I-I didn’t mean to hit you there,” he whispered, as if that mattered. “You just-you never listen Y/N.”

The silence that followed was deafening to him. 

He buried his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes closed. And then the worst thought hit him like a truck.

What if you died thinking he meant to kill you?

His whole body collapsed on itself at the thought of it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He stood again. Agitated. Restless. Filled with worry.

The Salesman began to grip the back of a nearby chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Immediately flinging the chair at the wall, causing it to snap in two. His own reflection looked into the mirror staring back at him, wide eyed, covered in blood.

What has he done?

Then-

A knock at the door. Urgent. Quick. Loud.

The Salesman nearly stumbled over himself as he bolted towards the front door. Yanking it open.

The doctor was wide eyed at first, standing there with a briefcase in hand, trembling in fear upon the Salesman’s gaze.

“If she dies, you will be next. Get to work.”

The doctor rushed inside, tripping over his own feet as he fast walked to you. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the state you were in. Your body is still on the bed, half-curled, the sheet soaked with your blood. The bleeding did slow down but it hasn’t stopped. Not even close.

“Oh my god,” the doctor said, placing down his case, quickly putting gloves on his hands as he was eyeing the sight. “She could’ve lost consciousness way before this….How long has she been bleeding?”

The Salesman didn’t answer at first. He was hovering behind the doctor, stiff, his fists were balled so tight his nails bit into his palms.

“She was in the bathroom,” the Salesman said, his voice low. “I didn’t know that she tried to clean it herself.”

The doctor hissed. “So much alcohol in an open wound? It is a miracle that she didn’t go into shock from it.”

He didn’t mean it in a cruel way, but the words hit the Salesman like a ton of bricks. 

In an agonizing silence, he watched as the doctor began to cut away your shirt, exposing the wound in your side, the bullet luckily had blown through muscle just beneath your ribs. Your skin was already darkening, blood dripping slowly.

“No fragments. That is good at least.”

The Doctor worked quickly, hands, intent. 

First pressure. Then antiseptic. Then sutures.

Your body thrashed once the needle punctured your skin, even in your unconscious state, a soft cry came out of your lips.

The Salesman stepped forward.

“Is she-?”

“Stable. For now. But she’s not out of danger yet. She lost a lot of blood.”

The doctor quickly rummaged through his bag to find an IV, attaching it to a portable pole that he also brung with him, slowly slipping a needle into the contour of your arm. His gloved hands were slick with red already. 

The Salesman loomed over you, unable to turn away.

“She is strong. Stubborn. Her body didn’t fail her sooner because she is fighting very hard to stay awake.”

The Salesman didn’t move. Didn’t want to speak. He simply gazed at your white face. 

You struggled to survive, even after he pulled the trigger on you.

You fought for your life…in spite of him.

He should have protected you.

Not this.

Why did he do this?

“When she wakes up she’s going to be in pain. A lot of it,” the doctor stated slowly, finishing a bandage on your side.

The Salesman’s voice was low. “Good.”

“Sir?”

“She should be hurt. She should hate me for this. She should be furious.”

He kept his eyes on your face. He noticed a tear going down your eye, involuntary. 

“I don’t think you meant to-”

“I PULLED THE TRIGGER. IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I MEANT!”

He slowly returned to sit at the end of the bed, fingers grazing your leg, as if he needed to make sure you were still alive. 

The doctor packed up what was left of his supplies, and gave the Salesman one last look.

“Call me right away if her fever goes up, or if she doesn’t wake up in the morning.”

The Salesman didn’t respond.

He just sat there, all silent as he heard the door shut the doctor. Just watching. Breathing shallowly. 

His hand reached towards you, slow, and he carefully pushed aside a stand of hair from your damp forehead. You didn’t move.

“You weren’t meant to get hurt,” he said softly, voice trembling. “Not like this.”

The other arm hovered over the bandages, over the bullet wound he put there, before curling into a shaking fist.

“I should have never done this to you. I could’ve gone another route without harming you.”

He bent down and pressed his lips, softly brushing on your forehead. Then again, slower.

The kiss was a plea. A confession. 

And then the tears began to fall.

The Salesman tried to stop them, tried to breathe through it, tried to blink them away, but they came nevertheless. At first they were quiet, then they hit harder. His chest choked with sobs his throat couldn’t swallow.

“I pulled the trigger,” he said, nearly choking on his own words. “I pulled it. Doesn’t matter why I did it. It doesn’t matter what I thought I was doing. I hurt you.”

His fingers caught yours, cold in his clutch. He closed his fingers around it, gently rubbing your hand.

“You should hate me. I know you will hate me. And I’ll deserve it. I just-”

His voice broke.

“I just need you to wake up Y/N.”

He laid down on the bed next to you, carefully, wrapping his arms around your body in a way that was almost fearful. He couldn’t stay away.

You didn’t stir when he started stroking your hair. Shaking fingers, lips against your lips. Whispering your name like a prayer he didn’t believe in.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

He curled into you, silent sobs filling the room, placing his face in the crook of your neck. His tears were seeping onto your skin. He refused to let you go.

Not even as exhaustion pulled him under, not even when the tears stopped and all that was left was shallow breathing. He just held you together. Rocked you gently. Tried to keep you grounded by the world with the sole thing remaining to him, his guilt, his grief, the one person he truly loved. 

And that was when it hit him.

He froze as he looked at you again, your pale face, your battered body. Before he could stop himself, his arms tightened around you. 

He loved you.

God, he truly loved you.

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you.”

He felt it again, the panic, the fear.

He had never loved anyone until now. Not like this. Love has always been something for other people. People who the Salesman thought were weak. Trash. 

And now there he was, shaking, crying, holding you close.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he choked out. “I have no idea how to love someone without hurting them.”

But still, he didn’t let you go.

Still, he stayed.

Because if you died, if you left him, he wasn’t sure that anything would be left of him to carry himself forward.

The silence thickened. 

And in that stillness, with your body curling weakly against his, the Salesman did the only thing he could think of.

He held you even tighter, and waited for morning. Waited for you to hopefully wake up.

A/N: If you would like to be tagged in the next chapters feel free to leave a comment, you can also suggest things you would love to see in the series.

Credit for divider: omi-resources

[shirefantasies]

hello there!! i've been reading your works for a while and they're adorable, i love them so much ;A;

it's actually my birthday today! if it's not too much trouble, could you write the Fellowship (plus Arwen and Eowyn if you'd like <3) and how each of them would spend reader's birthday with them?

if not, then that's okay! hope you have a great day and once again i love your writing :D

Happy belated birthday anon! This is a cute idea 😄

REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED! This is a very old request I’m just getting around to posting.

Warnings: a bit suggestive at times

How LoTR Characters Spend Your Birthday With You

Aragorn

He is not exactly the biggest party person, so unless you are your celebration will be smaller, more intimate. You’ll be woken with the gentlest kiss and a whispered blessing. Whatever you command, Aragorn teases, he is yours…. Beyond that, he is his typical attentive self, cooking your favorite meal for you and laying it out beautifully as he can. Candles, flowers, you name it and he has found it. All day the words pass his lips that the world is all the richer for your entry into it, that he considers you a blessing every day of his life. So much so, in fact, he’ll even tolerate you smashing some cake on him if you feel a bit giddy that night! Shaking his head, he just smiles and laughs it off. It is your birthday, after all, and he is plenty used to the old antics of his friends!

Legolas

You expect a surprise, ironically, knowing Legolas’s air of teasing mystery, and sure enough he whisks you away nearly as soon as he can. Any questioning fails utterly, but at least you get to see Legolas’s dark eyes glitter with mischief as he tells you you’ll see. In the end you’re taken to a little paradise all your own, a treetop canopy with a scenic view. “And of course you have your cake,” he teases, remembering how important it was to you. You’re still in awe of the view, jaw slack at the horizon of endless green blending into the blue sky with its sparse puffs of cloud. It’s amazing, utterly so and you tell him, but the woodland prince insists that the most amazing part of this all is you. Your birth, your entry into the world those years ago, means more to him than he can ever truly convey.

Boromir

Such ambition! Boromir asks you to describe your dream day and vows to give it to you. Taking a boat ride? He’ll find a way. Having a joust? He would be honored to be your partner. A party with your friends? Simply give him the notice and he will invite them all to a grand event! He understands that cake is traditional so he commissions the best of his father’s bakers for yours. All the while of the merriment Boromir’s arm is slung about your waist, his eyes and grin loving as they fix firmly upon you. You may have to restrain him, for he’ll want to hoist your arm up and call out your praises in front of everybody! He definitely tries to be understanding if these ideas make you anxious, however, toning down the party in his mind to a candlelit dinner for two. Hm, yes, perhaps some romance would be a good way to spend your birthday after all….

Gimli

Pretends he forgot. His jaw drops, lips widening into an o shape as he asks oh, was that today? Today of all days? …Followed immediately by mischievous he-he-hes of laughter as he reaches into some pocket or another and pulls out a box. “I jest, of course? You think I would forget the most important of days, the birth of my fairest One? Not in the slightest! Go on, open it up!” Inside is none other than a piece of your favorite type of jewelry, clearly handmade and beautifully custom crafted. Gimli made it himself of course, not a single other dwarf laying a hand on it. “Just like you,” he jokes as you embrace and pull his lips into yours. As far as any other celebration of course he wants to scream it from the hills and drink and dance the night away with you, but if you want no fanfare Gimli will simply walk with you anywhere you go, still telling everyone it’s your birthday, before taking you home for a more private celebration. Hopefully still some drinks and dancing, even if it’s just you two. And something else? Well, he would give you everything you want on your special day, just ask and he is yours…

Frodo

You’ll awake to a pair of the most loving blue eyes you’ve ever seen upon you. Soon as he knows you’ve risen, Frodo reaches over to caress your face, a smile creeping onto his lips before he kisses your forehead. “Good morning, my love. How would you like to spend your day?” Anything you request within reason will be yours. The weather cooperates, luckily, so if you wish to take a walk on the edges of the Shire or take to the market opportunity is availed to you. Frodo will organize a party if you wish it, inviting only your closest friends and family and hoping he’ll be your only dance partner for the evening! Encourages you to be the one to cut your cake, nodding eagerly towards it with a big smile. He spent ages on your gift, a hand-illustrated and bound volume of your favorite story he made with his uncle Bilbo.

Sam

Spends a whole day making your cake himself. It has to be perfect, your favorite flavor and lots of edible flowers to make it pretty! Sam is very sweet with you, absolutely doting on you all day and insisting you don’t lift a finger. Even going so far as to romantically carry you over thresholds if he can. The most loving eyes fall onto you as he asks what you want to do, flushing if you make any more scandalous suggestions and agreeing eagerly, readying himself to pull off the bed and onto your next adventure. It’s the end of the night, naturally, when he insists on cutting you a big slice of your cake and showering you with gifts ranging from flowers to a new one of your favorite comfort items to a special piece of craftsmanship from his elven friends! Party or no, Sam will share a lantern-lit dance with you that night and will be telling you how much he loves you and is grateful you were born all day!

Merry

The type to suggest celebrating on your birthday, if you catch his drift. Loves your eager reaction or if you smack him and tease back, both is good. Morning or evening, he won’t be picky! But in all seriousness, this calls for a celebration and by the stars you are getting one! Merry will have the whole of the Green Dragon singing your praises and wishing you well that night, not to mention being ready with a cake and a hearty meal! All day he’s walking around with the proudest smile and a hand around your waist. His gift to you is the perfect mix of pretty and practical, a gorgeously embroidered coat with bejeweled buttons that had to have cost a lot, but he assures you it’s worth it with a kiss to your forehead and another happy birthday.

Pippin

Writes it down so he doesn’t forget what day it is, then sets himself to work planning you a party! If you don’t like large events then instead of a massive Shire celebration he’ll throw something in your yard or the Tooks will rent out the Green Dragon for a night with all your friends. During the day, though? Pippin refuses to share you, no sir. All his attention is on you from the moment he surprises you with a big breakfast to when he sets aside the dishes. Even getting ready for the day he’ll pamper you, running you a bath and jumping in with you too of course! A picnic lunch in a field of waving wildflowers, lots of shared kisses beneath the sun, and a bouquet hand-picked just for you await! Tells anyone who runs across you that it’s his beloved’s birthday, you know. Your favorite gift this year is a scarf, one quite similar to Pippin’s but in your favorite color instead, the one you wear most. He had his mother make it for you just like the cake! Warning: Pippin will want to hand-feed you some cake and may see about smashing just a teensy bit up by your nose. If you really hate that he won’t, but if you retaliate? Well, your cake fight may turn into another bath for you two and then who knows from there…

Faramir

His brother was always the better one at this, an internal voice tells Faramir, but that makes it all the more exciting, especially because Boromir is happy to help him execute his plan! You are completely unsuspecting of the brothers’s scheme as you pry open the doors to the chamber Faramir asked you to meet him in, lops parting widely in shock at the crowd awaiting you. They all wish you a happy birthday as one, just as your family did for you in your youth. Tears fill your eyes at the sight of the gathering, but you are quickly swept into Faramir’s loving arms. He doesn’t let go of your hand for the entire night, either.

Eomer

Good luck getting out of bed that morning! Eomer will be upon you from the moment you arise, showering you with affection and ministrations of your every need and desire. He insists he can even do the cooking, which he does not usually undertake, but when you finally do arise for a meal you find quite a hearty selection awaiting you. From there Eomer takes you out for a ride, insisting you share a horse so he can hold you close and keep you blindfolded- no need to ruin the surprise so early, hm? You feel the incline before you see it, obviously, but after your mount slows Eomer lifts you up and sets you down to restore your sight. The fabric drops to reveal a flowered hill and a gorgeous view of the blue sky, both of which pale in comparison to the sight of Eomer knelt before you, telling you your birthday is a day of new beginnings. Asking then if you’ll grant him the new beginning of a married life with him?

Eowyn

Bless her soul, she makes you a cake. You can imagine how that goes. Looking at it with trepidation, you eagerly pull her to your day’s activities, saving that for the end of the night anyway. Rather, your focus is on the freedom you have to celebrate, taking a ride just to feel the wind in your hair and laugh with abandon at Eowyn’s side. Nearing your ride’s end she lays down a blanket and carries you down upon it, unpacking a meal for you to share as you watch the sunset. You will celebrate with friends and family, certainly, but this day is for you two. Laughter ensues further as you both choke on the cake, agreeing it’s no good but you assure her you love that she made it nonetheless, tackling her down upon the spread fabric with teasing, affectionate kisses. Giggling, she practically peels you off to give you your gift: a sword emblazoned with the Riddermark’s most gorgeous flowers.

Haldir

Haldir was never one to celebrate birthdays. It just never occurred to him to do anything beyond well wishes. So imagine his surprise when you began pondering what kind of cake you’ll make, if your elven neighbors would come for a party. Party? Of course, you say? Raucous celebrations were more characteristic of those in Mirkwood, but for you, Haldir realized with a smile the next time you were in his arms, he would lace up his dancing shoes. Insisting on handling the cake, he enlists Lothlórien’s finest baker, the one who crafts for Galadriel herself, to make you a gorgeous dessert that sits at your celebration’s center. He lets you teach him a dance or two and performs one you both know, letting loose and even just laughing in simple joy. Your gift is his favorite part of the evening, a mantle crafted of the strongest material that will keep you safe and looking beautiful as you always do in his eyes.

Galadriel

Oh, you are going to be pampered. The most beautiful sunlight kissing your skin as Galadriel whispers good morning, caressing your cheek and pulling you into her lips. Spending the morning exactly how she knows you like before treating you to a day of luxury. Healing massages for you both, a ride upon Lothlórien’s boats until you moor at the base of a great waterfall, the power of your love’s ring parting the waterfall as she beckons you into a wonderfully dry and decorated hollow. Therein you share a meal and each other’s company, whispered words of how much you mean to each other and all your desires shared before you are gifted a necklace bearing the great works and designs of Lórien- but most importantly engravings of Galadriel’s love for you hidden beneath the metal swirling around its white stone.

Elrond

Having a complicated family history himself, Elrond takes the task upon his own shoulders to show others compassion, comfort, and most of all senses of belonging and being loved. Of course this extends to your birthday! He wishes you well from the first and tells you what a blessing you are, how you surprise him with your strength and warm him with your smile every day. And do not doubt that you’ll be treated to the most luxurious of baths and Elrond washing and styling your hair for you. Following that is an afternoon lavished with gifts, jewelry and art and all you could ask for. That night, Elrond brings you up to the highest point in all of Rivendell to stargaze and so he can hold you and sway with you beneath the lights that looked down upon and symbolized his ancestors.

Arwen

Unless you specifically request the opposite, she’ll steal you away completely. Gone are you from the many eyes which could fall upon you, gone far off hand in hand with your beloved. Riding away to a secluded hollow where you and Arwen can be free, be yourselves. Lay in each other’s arms, weave flowers in each other’s hair, and flush joyfully and bashfully when she reaches up to feed you by hand, her own face a playful grin. Each kiss she gives you is deep, languid, intent, her hands falling to you as if to hold you there forever, but you mind not being bewitched so by her. Whispers of how grateful she is for your birth shared between your lips until they are joined again. Arwen’s gift to you is a ring, one that bears words of her own writing within its band. My love for all time.

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⋆𐙚Write it on the receipt | E.W

⋆.˚ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⋆.˚ ☕️

Ellie Williams: 810 words;fluff, coffee shop au, no y/n, no smut (sorry🥲) , short, probably bad

A/N : This is my first post ever so I’m little shit at this but let me know if you like this and if I should make a part 2 🫣 And yes this is heavily inspired by the guy she was into wasn’t a guy at all 🤭

The leading months of college consisted of piles of paper, weekly essays, and numerous amount of all-nighters. On top of that, the student center market was the place that sold liquid shit. In the coming week, a coffee shop opened in an enclosed area of the campus ensuring a slow flow of people.

Ellie fucking hated coffee, hating coffee was almost her personality. She only took the job because it pays decent and the regular day was slow enough after the opening craze died down.

Jesse, Ellie's co-worker was helping customers or flirting? While Ellie was in the walk-in fridge blowing off some steam after a bitchy customer that ordered 13 dollars worth of modifications then went bat shit screaming her head off when it took more than 30 seconds.

“Els” Jesse peered through the door of the fridge “get back out here” enlarging the doorway to make way for her.

“I know it’s not fucking busy, just give me a second” Ellie uses her hands to shoo him away and rested her head back in her hands.

Jesses sighs in frustration and grabs her arm “Dude what the fuck” she stammered. “Pull your weight, Ellie, I’m cleaning the machine and then going on my break” While still grasping her, she fights the walk back to the counter. “Work” he demands while throwing the arm towards the front.

“Guessing you love your job?” You lean against the counter “Uhh, yeah aha” Christ she was so awkward. The glare in your eyes was entangling, the way you pushed yourself taller on the counter, the way…

“Hello” you waved your hand across her face, “can I just have a medium iced coffee with soy milk” You laughed your order out a bit. “Oh fuck.. yeah” she grabs a cup and starts pestering Jesse wiping the machine while you pay. You cloud her mind, your face and presence. The receipt stared her down, Ellie plucked a red marker from her pocket to write a number, her number. A drip on Ellie's foot snaps her out and causes her to look down “shit” she whispered, the towel in her apron being ripped out to clean the spilled milk.

During the opening week one of the weekend employees spilled milk and only wiped with a rag and the whole cafe stank up. The owner pressed into the matter and gave every single employee a step-by-step on how to clean a spill.

“Jesse can you remake this drink, I’m sorry” Ellie walks backward waiting for Jesse's regular sigh and protest. Jesse gestures to her to get the five hundred needed products to clean the spill.

Jesse called your name making uncomfortable eye contact as you and some nerd studying were the only ones present. “Thanks” you touch hands with him. Being the cheapest ass ever you grab your receipt to scan it for potential points worth hopefully more than 25 points.

xxx-xxx-xx Are you French because you make my oui oui rise ;)

What? You had to stop in your tracks. You didn’t even know his name. Should you talk to him? You didn’t even have a type and he took no interest in you while giving you your coffee. The girl working seemed more interested than him. If you were stupid you might think the girl wrote it.

⋆.˚ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⋆.˚ ☕️

8:46: Hii!! Did you write on my receipt 😋😋

9:36: sorry I just got off work

9:37: yeah I did😗

9:37: did it work are you in love??

9:40: maybe 😭😭

9:40: I feel like I’ve seen you are you a communications major??

9:49: not even close, I’m an astrophysics major

9:50: oh shit way off

9:51: I’m guessing you intended on going on a date??

9:52: your so smart

9:52: I was worried you didn’t swing that way

9:56: huh?

9:57: I’m sorry what does that mean 😣😣

9:59: like I didn’t know you were gay 😭

10:03: I’m actually confused

10:03: I’m not 😧

10:04: do you have a fetish for bi girls or something

10:07: okay this is fucking with my brain

10:08: I’m a girl, your a girl and a date.. that sounds pretty gay

10:17: YOUR A GIRL??

10:17: you looked pretty manly to me

10:20: I get told I’m pretty masculine but I don’t look like a man 😣😣

10:24: wait are you the black haired boy girl orrr??

10:35: no I’m girl that took your order

10:37: I thought that was obvious

10:41: oh

10:43: I’m sorry I don’t like girls

10:46: damn this is awkward

Read 10:48

It was never that serious, you and Ellie never saw each other before the texts but now you couldn’t go a day without passing by. You weren’t hurt that your one chance to live out a fantasy was compromised, but Ellie made you reflect on your sexual orientation. You didn’t like girl? You swore on every bone in your body. You think??