#that took me an hour to formulate my response!!

[pin-k-ink]

cynosure // kageyama tobio

tw ⇢ needy!sub!kageyama, dom reader, begging, cunnilingus, squirting, praise kink (m! receiving), kageyama cums untouched, ruined orgasm, kinda body worship

wc ⇢ 2.3k

"I mean, what can I say?" Kageyama's deep baritone carried across the lively gathering with undisguised swagger. "It helps that my wife is so eager to please in the bedroom. She knows I'm in charge and that's just how it is."

You froze mid-conversation, drink halfway to your lips as his boastful declaration ricocheted through your consciousness like a thunderclap. Slowly, you turned to find your husband holding court among his former Karasuno teammates - chest puffed out and that signature smug grin plastered across his handsome features.

Despite the dull roar of the party surrounding him, Kageyama's navy gaze seemed to find yours through the crowd unerringly. Something deliciously wicked flashed behind those hooded depths as he appraised you from across the room with searing intensity.

As if sensing your rapidly mounting indignation, his smile turned molten - full lips curving into an artful sneer you knew so intimately. The one that said he was already formulating a full wind-up for the pitch guaranteed to send your temper blazing.

"Oi, oi Kageyama!" Tanaka's raucous laughter cut through the din next, jarring your focus. "You're full of it as always! There's no damn way [Y/N] just lets you call all the shots in the bedroom like that."

Nishinoya immediately chimed in with a loud cackle. "Sorry man, but I gotta agree with Ryuu on this one! Remember back in high school how [Y/N] used to keep your Kingly ass in line?"

You pursed your lips to suppress a smirk of your own as Kageyama visibly bristled at the friendly ribbing. Yamaguchi tried half-heartedly to defuse the mounting teasing, only to end up doubling over in wheezes as their loudmouth senpais kept the taunts rolling.

Throughout it all, Kageyama stared straight at you – a heated challenge simmering in that ravenous gaze you recognized all too intimately. You held his stare steadily, delicately grazing the rim of your glass with your tongue in a blatant show of defiance.

A visible shudder ripped through your husband at the deliberate taunt. You relished in the way his jaw clenched, throat bobbing convulsively even from this distance as you signalled your refusal to play along so docilely. Not in public, and certainly not back in the privacy of your own bedroom...where you both knew the delicious truth all too well.

So when the rager finally began winding down in the wee hours and pleasantries were exchanged, you made sure to slip out well ahead of Kageyama – already anticipating the blazing promise awaiting you both at home with heated inevitability.

Sure enough, you'd barely crossed the threshold before your husband's powerful bulk slammed the door shut behind you with a muted bang. Spinning on your heel, you took in the combustible sight of him looming there with those blown pupils smoldering with naked yearning.

"Feeling a little overconfident tonight, my King?" you murmured, keeping your tone light even as electricity fizzed down your spine.

Prowling forward with boneless grace, Kageyama crowded you back against the hallway wall without so much as a word. The rough plaster grated against your shoulders as he caged you in on both sides, but you refused to be cowed so easily.

"Don't..." he growled in that gravelly rasp you adored. "Unless you plan on actually putting me in my place, that is."

For a moment, he held you immobilized beneath the scorching weight of his ravenous study. You remained utterly defiant, licking your lips with delicate leisure just to watch his blown pupils dilate further in response. Then, unhurriedly, you skated your hands up the carved ridges of his abdomen until fingertips dug deliciously into chiseled pectorals.

"Well aren't you feeling rebellious tonight?" you husked out, sharp nails scraping over the stiff peaks of his nipples in wicked suggestion. "I'll admit, this new sense of misguided ego does suit you well, Tobio..."

Kageyama shuddered against you bodily, spine flexing as you angled your face closer until your lips brushed the strained tendon of his neck with every consonant.

"Though it will make taking you apart all the more...rewarding, I suspect," you finished, sealing your mouth over his thundering pulse in a slick glide.

A feral groan punched from your husband's chest as his arms sagged against the wall, fully surrendering himself over to your velvet possession already. You indulged in nipping and laving reverent patterns over every shuddering inch of silken flesh offered freely, relishing the crisp musk of Kageyama's arousal rapidly soaking the air between your twined forms.

Only once his lidded eyes finally fluttered shut in rapturous surrender did you pull back enough to rasp out the final blistering promise against his slack lips:

"Now...let's see how long that bravado holds up once I really put you through your paces, hm, my King?"

"Please...please [Y/N], I can't take it anymore..."

Kageyama's gravelly whine pitched higher as his big hands fisted in the bedding beside your thighs. You simply arched one sculpted brow, letting your gaze trail over his trembling form in a lazy sweep.

He knelt before you stripped bare, chest heaving with exertion and dark locks matted against his forehead from exquisite effort. A delicate sheen of sweat gleamed over the taut cords of his sculpted abdomen and those mouth-watering v-lines disappearing beneath...

You allowed yourself a slow, indulgent perusal of his thick cock straining against the scant fabric still clinging to his hips. No matter how many times you drank in the sight, it never failed to make your mouth water in fresh appreciation.

"Does my sweet little King need something?" you finally rumbled out, tone dripping with sugared condescension.

Kageyama whimpered again, those blown sapphire irises shining with desperate need as he searched your hooded expression pleadingly. In the dim bedroom light, you could make out the delicate glistening of tears streaking over his beautifully ruined features.

"Y-You..." he rasped out, lashes fluttering rapidly. "Please, I need you to touch me...kiss me...anything, [Y/N], I'm begging—"

His desperation broke off into a hitched cry as you simply tilted your head, keeping your folded arms and legs firmly crossed in a show of detached indifference. Despite the rapidly swelling ache pulsing between your own thighs, something primal and merciless reared within at holding this ultimate power over him.

"You're begging?" you echoed softly, letting the molten lull of your voice caress over each damning syllable. "The same King who was mouthing off so arrogantly about having control just hours ago?"

Kageyama's throat worked convulsively as you trailed one toe up the taut line of his inner thigh in a languorous glide. Despite his full-body shudder, you refused to halt the deliciously slow ministrations once you reached the apex of those rippling muscles bracketing his aching length.

"Perhaps this will remind my husband who truly holds the reins in our...intimate affairs, hm?" you crooned, skimming the very tip of your foot along the underside of his weeping cock in one branding caress.

Kageyama's ragged groan fractured into a high, needy whine as he dropped his head and rolled his hips into the honeyed torment helplessly. Wetness from the precum pearling at his flushed tip trailed down your arched instep in silken streaks, making you inhale sharply at the thrilling heat.

"Please..." he panted out in a wrecked rumble that seared straight through your already fraying restraint. "I'm yours, always yours...your good boy, I swear it..."

With maddening lethargy, you allowed your legs to finally unspool from their rigid posture and bracket his shuddering body with purposeful suggestion. Kageyama immediately angled forward to nuzzle his face into your pussy through your thin cotton panties, chasing the scent of your intoxicating musk with a starved whimper.

His beautiful mouth went slack against your damp heat as you threaded elegant fingers through his dark hair with deceptive gentleness – nails raking over his scalp hard enough to leave tingling crescents in their wake.

"That's right..." you whispered in a voice gone hoarse and brimming with possessive ardor. "My perfect, sweet boy knows his place now...at my feet with his King's mouth pressed to his Queen's altar."

Kageyama shattered with a broken wail against your slick folds, eager tongue lapping at your swollen clit, working in frantic reverence as his broad shoulders shook with the force of his rapturous worship. You rolled your hips forward with measured leisure, grinding against his sinfully plush lips in a languid glide, letting the wet rasp of fabric intensify the sensation.

Your husband groaned against your pussy with every breathless swipe of his tongue, lashes fluttering and cheeks glistening with a fresh wave of salty tears. His thick, aching cock bobbed between his thighs as he hastily tugs his boxers down - twitching in a steady beat with each stroke and suckle of his perfect lips.

You tightened your grip on his dark locks, tugging his head back until his throat flexed with a muted moan. He blinked up at you in a daze, those oceanic orbs nearly swallowed by the endless depths of his blackened pupils.

You looked down to see him staring up at you through thick, clumped lashes and the wet glimmer of tears staining his flushed cheeks. That sinful mouth - still gleaming with the slick remnants of your desire - hung open in a pant, revealing the crimson tip of his tongue resting there on offer.

Lower, you could see his cock weeping and twitching in earnest. The tip was dark, flushed, and throbbing - so painfully engorged that the veins crisscrossing the length stood out in stark relief. An obscene amount of precum glistened in a thin string, connecting the slit to a small puddle forming on the hardwood floor below.

"Oh my sweet King," you cooed, trailing the pad of your thumb over the swollen seam of his lower lip. "What a mess you're making already...you want me that badly?"

Kageyama's only response was another wrecked whimper as he surged forward, sucking the tip of your thumb into his mouth with a low, pleading whine. You allowed the intimate contact for several long moments, feeling his tongue swipe around the digit in a filthy pantomime of what you both so desperately craved.

Then, with aching deliberateness, you tugged the soft cotton fabric to the side and spread the puffy folds of your aching pussy. Your husband's eyes widened further, blown pupils zeroing in on your slick, exposed cunt as a low keen rumbled from deep within his chest.

"Be a good boy and clean up your mess, Tobio..."

Without hesitation, Kageyama dove forward, pressing his mouth flush to your aching heat with a groan of relief. You shuddered as his sinful lips immediately sought out your clit, drawing the swollen nub between his teeth to graze with delicate pressure.

"Fuck..." you gasped out, head tipping back at the electric current ripping down your spine. Your hips stuttered forward, thighs flexing on either side of his head. His thick hands came up to grasp at the supple flesh there, fingers digging into the pliant give as he lapped and sucked and licked in a dazed frenzy.

Your husband's enthusiasm was no match for the molten desire burning through your own veins, and you soon found yourself tipping over the edge in a shuddering rush. Your orgasm crashed over you in a relentless wave, and you felt the hot, wet rush of slick gushing from your cunt as he drank it all down in fervent gulps.

He didn't stop his hungry assault until you shoved him back by his tangled hair, chest heaving and pussy trembling from overstimulation. A thick rivulet of cum and saliva oozed from the corner of his mouth, and you watched as Kageyama made no move to wipe it away – simply let it slide down the column of his throat in a filthy display.

"Please..." he slurred out, sounding drunk on pleasure and desperation. "Need you...please, I need you, I can't take it..."

He kept up the litany, a steady stream of half-coherent pleas and broken cries as he rocked his hips forward, searching for friction. His neglected cock bobbed and dripped between his thighs, still painfully swollen and aching for release.

"My poor boy," you crooned, reaching down to cup his jaw with aching tenderness. Kageyama's gaze remained glassy and unfocused, though he instinctively turned his cheek into the warm palm cradling his face. "Let's take care of this, hm?"

At once, your husband nodded eagerly – lips parted and eyes rolling back in bliss as you slid down to your knees to match him. With aching reverence, you cupped his face between both hands and leaned forward, capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

He groaned against your mouth, the heady scent and taste of your slick mixing between you both in a deliciously filthy exchange. His thick, calloused hands came up to frame your own jaw, holding you in place as he pressed forward – deepening the kiss with a ragged, animalistic growl.

You were so absorbed in your own spiraling ecstasy that you nearly missed the subtle cues at first. The way Kageyama's shoulders went rigid. How his desperate whimpers fractured into sharper, hitching gasps laced with fresh rapture blooming.

It wasn't until you felt the first spurt of his thick, wet seed splattering against your stomach and thigh did you pull back from the kiss, eyes widening in awe. You looked down to see his swollen cock pulsing, jerking and twitching as he shot rope after rope of cum across your naked flesh.

A punched-out groan tore from his chest as he succumbed, hips jerking in helpless rhythm as the last drops of his release trickled out in a weak stream. Then, as suddenly as the powerful rush had consumed him, Kageyama sagged – his muscular bulk slumping forward until his sweat-slicked forehead thudded against your shoulder.

A stunned laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you reached up to smooth one hand through his tangled locks with affection. He groaned into your collarbone, nuzzling deeper into your neck as his strong arms encircled your waist to hold you tight.

"M’ sorry. Wanted to hold out longer," he mumbled, the words vibrating against your heated skin. "Couldn't help it when you started kissing me, though."

[stevebabey]

Eddie has a test.

It took some time to formulate, a few too many times with guys careless with his heart, who leave behind more heartache than happiness littered in their memory. It’s fucking hard to tell.

More than once, there’s been a dude who promises between kisses i’m not going anywhere and takes more than his fill during a night which Eddie desperately hopes is passion and not some misguided lust. Only to wake a familiar empty side of the bed, them gone — skipping town, back in the arms of their parent-approved girlfriend, or back to spitting his name out with the word freak.

It’s what the test is for.

It’s specific, purposeful, all intending to weed out the straight boys who liked to dip their toes in the pool of queerness and leave Eddie to any consequences of the heart. Eddie doesn’t want to turn cruel, to be too jaded after feeling used too many times. It’s what the test is for. Protect the heart, see what interest is genuine.

Right now, he’s putting the test on Jared. New in town and in Eddie’s life, he’d captured the metalhead’s gaze from the glint of his pierced ear and light eyes that lingered. Kissed a little mean, and with too much teeth, but Eddie chalked it up to excitement. Jared seemed good. Nodded and smiled when Eddie found himself wrapped up in yet another DnD spiel. Said he found it endearing.

The test is simple.

A bid, a nudge, for attention. Never anything big or too exciting— that always got him specifically warped smirks designed to lead him along. Just something minuscule, like will you come take a look at my notes? or can i play you that riff once more? to see if it gave.

The pattern runs deep in Eddie’s dating history; same ol’ jerks who couldn’t bother to come and look at his new DnD sketches are always the ones who are only leasing a new sexuality for a month. It’s like setting a minefield and seeing who stumbles on a landmine, the bids getting ignored is as early as a warning sign he’ll ever get.

He tries the test on Jared.

It’s a Thursday night and Jared’s round at the trailer, lounging on Eddie’s sheets and still a little flushed from the night’s earlier activities. Usually it’s a good sign when the guys stick around after sex, not flying out the door once they’ve got what they want. By now, Eddie has drifted away from his bed, skittish thoughts already off and away with new campaign ideas.

He’s scrawling in a character design, some new boss, half troll, half hellhound, that requires a lot of finicky details worked out. The page is covered in scribbles, nothing in any semblance of lines and a crude first sketch is in the middle. It’s not quite the vision he had in mind but it took him an hour, so he’s hardly going to erase it. Besides, it looks pretty fucking metal to him.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, a bit soft. No pet-names used— most of the time boys didn’t like them and wrinkled their nose. Those that didn’t mind, never returned them. “Can I show you the sketch I’ve been working on?”

He pauses, then launches into an explanation without waiting for a response, “It’s for the new campaign I’ve been planning, one of the bosses, and honestly, those little shrimps have no idea what’s coming for them.”

Jared, still slouched on the bed, peeks up a bit at the noise. He hadn’t really been doing much, just leafing through some of the junk beside Eddie’s bed. If Eddie let himself hold any hope, he would say it’s because he wants to know more about Eddie.

“Huh?” Jared asks, genuine enough that Eddie thinks maybe he didn’t hear him.

“A DnD boss?” Eddie says, eyebrows raising. He barrels on, thinking about how Dustin had helped propose the new boss, with a grin spreading across Eddie’s face. “Dustin, the little twerp, challenged me to pick a random combination of creatures and mash em’ together- see what crazy abilities come from it.”

“Who’s Dustin?” Jared asks, failing to sound like he cares. His eyes have wandered elsewhere, head falling back on the pillow and Eddie’s initial question about the sketch is long, long gone.

Oof. And that’s like 3 failed bids at one time because Eddie talks about Dustin all the time. Jared clearly isn’t interested in Eddie Munson, just what he can offer. Eddie’s heart grows a little colder.

“Look, I think I’m gonna get going, yeah?” Jared says, maybe sensing Eddie’s mood change as he begins to sit up and tug his shirt back over his bare skin. His sticks his feet in his shoes, laces them up. Eddie nods, tucks his notebook behind him and walks him out, plastering on a smile the whole time.

After ambling down the stairs to the trailer, Jared turns back, after searching the surrounding area for leering eyes, and he reaches out and gives Eddie’s hand a squeeze. Just a split second, before it flies back to his side.

Eddie would like to believe that he’s at least worthy of a goodbye kiss. Even if some wicked part of his brain says he’s not, that boys like Eddie Munson don’t get sweet goodbye kisses. Don’t get good relationships, just mindless flings.

The thought makes hurt flares in his gut, Eddie so desperately trying to protect his hope, and so before Jared can say anything, some pitiful goodbye, Eddie leans out the doorway and says, “Don’t call me.” then slams the trailer door.

It follows him around for the next week, his own personal storm-cloud to keep his head grey even when it’s sunny out. He mopes to Robin about it during her shift, probably the only other person he can talk to about it.

“So, you tested him? What does that even mean? Is there a gay test you know about that you haven’t told me about? That would be so uncool, man.”

She’s talking as she types, half paying attention to the computer. Steve is out in between the shelves, putting out a new batch of films— Eddie knows because he’d instinctively sought him out when he came in. Harrington was a pretty boy, sue him for wanting to enjoy the view.

Didn’t help he was also decidedly declared not-a-douchebag by Eddie during the whole upside down spiel and had the duality of biting off that bat’s head and somehow being the world’s biggest sweetheart for his friends. Friends that now included Eddie.

 What can you say? Going through that much together, including killing a death wizard and getting dragged out of an alternate dimension certainly forms some strong bonds. Plus, Steve was hot.

(Eddie denies the crush on the basis that would. never. happen.)

At the reminder of Vecna, Eddie winces and supposes he should be lucky he gets any sort of attention after that whole scandal. But it doesn’t stop him from draping himself across the front counter, laying pathetically with a pout on his lips. He shakes his head fervently at her question.

“Not a gay test, Robin.” He stresses. “It’s the Eddie-Munson-is-this-boy-gonna-stick-around-test.”

He rolls up onto his elbows and props his head into his waiting palms. “Gotta make sure I’m not being treated like some common whore.”

It’s meant to be a joke, a usual joking lilt to his voice, but the end of the sentences comes out a bit too bitter to land that way.

Robin’s sympathetic expression makes Eddie’s chest twinge in a way he doesn’t like. He waves her off. Slumps back down a bit before deciding he’s done enough wallowing in the public eye.

Robin doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his usual notebook, pages weathered and filled. Eddie usually hangs around the store on days without plans, flits between Robin and Steve, and scribbles in his notebook. She bites her lip, gaze moving between the book and the resigned expression on Eddie’s face as he turns to the latest page— the strange hellhound troll mashed up boss.

“Okay, I’ll bite—what’s the test involve?” She asks, pausing in her typing for a moment. Her hands don’t stop moving, still stressing the fabric of her pants twitchily. Eddie perks his head up, clutching his pencil a bit tighter and rolls right into it.

“It’s not even really a test, technically, but doesn’t matter- that’s just what I call it - it’s like a bid?”

Robin raises her brows and they disappear under her fringe. “A bid?”

“Yeah! A bid!” He waves his arms around as he speaks, gesticulating a bit wildly. “It’s like— like asking them to come look at something stupid and small, just to see if they’ll give your interests time of the day, yanno?”

He punches a finger down into his sketchbook. “A guy who can’t even be bothered to look at a sketch I worked on for an hour? Douchebag.”

Eddie’s tone turns a bit sing-song as he continues, like it’ll somehow distract from the bleakness of them. “Ergo, not sticking around.”

Robin’s hands finally stop their messing, becoming completely still against her legs. She finally swivels her body to face Eddie, a furrow between her brows. Her lips are quirked up, just a bit, like she knows something Eddie doesn’t. He feels his apprehension grow as he slumps his chin back into his hands.

“You mean, like how Steve is with you?”

Eddie stands a bit straighter at that, some flushed combination of disbelief mixing with delight flooded his body.

“What?” It comes out a bit more squeaky than intended. Eddie clears his throat, waves his hands, anything to stop that smirk from spreading across Robin’s face — he can feel his cheeks glow a bit warmer at the mere idea. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Robin smiles a bit and nods over to where Steve is. “Try it, test him.”

Eddie follows her nod, casting his eyes across the store to find Steve. He finds him situated in the romance section, a pile of cardboard box stacked beside him, the top box open and ready to be unpacked.

But Steve’s clearly been distracted by the first film in the box — he’s sunk deep into his mom-stance with one hip popped, one hand on his hip, the other holding the film as he reads the back cover of it very intently.

Eddie watches for just a moment, watches Steve squint and pull the case just a bit closer, wrinkle his nose adorably, snort a little laugh at whatever he’s reading — and dammit, this is just a fast track to insanity if Eddie watches him any longer.

“Steve,” he calls, too hesitant and too quiet. Steve’s head doesn’t move, he just flips the cover back over, marveling at the front. Eddie tries again. “Harrington!”

Steve’s head pops up, eyes skirting about to see who’s calling him. He doesn’t move when he sees it’s Eddie calling, just raises his brows. “Yeah?”

Eddie swallows, tries not to think of Robin paying close attention to both him and Steve. He grips his notebook a bit tighter even though he’s not entirely convinced Robin’s right. Steve Harrington doesn’t like DnD — not even for Dustin who has self-proclaimed himself Steve’s ‘adorable little brother that he never had’. Steve is hardly going to care if it’s Eddie asking.

“Do you wanna take a look at this sketch I’m working on?” He asks, as casual as he can.

Steve’s features give away just a hint of surprise, a blink as he comprehends what’s been said. Eddie holds his breath, ready to turn to Robin and say ‘I told you so!’ and to pretend that he’s not secretly hoping Steve will say yes.

“Sure,” Steve says, slotting the film back into the cardboard box and beginning to meander between the shelves towards the front desk. Eddie doesn’t even get time to be surprised because Steve’s suddenly there, in front of him, all expectant.

Eddie opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, and snaps it back closed. Instead, he thrusts the notebook to the side along the countertop, opened to the page of the sketch and doesn’t say anything. In the background, Robin snorts lightly. Eddie shoots her a glare.

If Eddie could look at Steve, he’d see the lightly amused expression on his face, but Eddie only focuses on the book. Really focuses. God, if he looks at Steve he’ll probably get some stupid mooned expression on his face that would totally give away his tiny stupid not-a-crush.

In his peripheral, he can see Steve sidle a little closer and lean over to peer at the page. And while he looks over it intently, Eddie let’s his eyes drift up, taking in the side of his face.

Curses his stupid handsome face. Then curses it some more when Steve lights up in recognition, turning to Eddie, excited to have a sliver of an idea what Eddie’s showing him. Normally, it’s all mumbo-jumbo to Steve. Not that he hasn’t tried to keep up but those kids are ahead of the curve and Steve wasn’t about to embarrass himself asking them to slow down their explanations.

“Woah, is this that one that Dustin was talking about?” Eddie thinks there might be a bit of genuine excitement leaking into Steve’s words.

“The weird like, mashed up, uh, what’s the word? Hyp- hypb—“

“Hybrid,” Eddie supplies, voice cool. His heart is not feeling so cool. Jesus Christ, Steve wasn’t supposed to pass Eddie’s test— he wasn’t even supposed to be tested. In order for that happen, they’d have to even be fooling around and Eddie blames his building blush on that mere suggestion.

“Yeah!” Steve raps his knuckles against the countertop and takes a second look at the drawing, closer this time. He looks back up at Eddie, so he knows he’s completely sincere when he says, “This is really cool, man.”

“Okay.” Eddie breathes, sounding a bit stupid. He remembers himself, remembers Robin watching him essentially bluescreen at the praise from Steve and wrenches his awed smile into a familiar smug type of grin. 

“Of course it is, Steve-o,” He quickly amends, reaching back and tugging the notebook back. It’s closes with a quick snap, like Eddie’s afraid Steve will take another look. “She’s not finished yet, of course.”

Eddie had to bite his tongue to keep it from either taking an insanely egotistical route to pretend Steve’s praise hadn’t had a profound effect on him, or even worse, start trying to suddenly be humble — oh this ol’ thing? it’s nothing really, just threw it together quickly— Eddie nearly melts against the counter in relief when the bell on the front door saves him.

A customer enters the store, instantly taking Steve’s attention and he bounds off to help them, an easy smile on his face.

Eddie waits until Steve and the customer wandered off into the aisles to release his breath. He doesn’t look at Robin, just turns and presses his forehead down against the countertop. Then raises it just a bit, and thunks it back down, a couple of times for good measure.

“Okay, okay—“ Robin’s gone a bit wide eyed and she waves her hands at Eddie’s pathetic form, his head still bonking against the counter. “Stop doing that. Jesus, Eddie, are the dramatics always necessary?”

His motions stop at Robin’s words and Eddie’s whips his head up. He narrows his eyes at her, and as if to prove his point, exaggeratedly jabs a finger at her.

“Hey! Never deny my right to be a drama queen. It is my god given right as an American citizen—”

“He passed.” Robin says, cutting off what was about to be a very long rant about god knows what. Eddie just didn’t want her to say what she was about to. “Your test. He passed, didn’t he?“

That. He didn’t want her to say that.

“He’s being a good friend! A very good nice friend!” Eddie counters, only sounding a little bit whiny which takes half the conviction out of his words. He slams his hands down against the wood. “That test is for— it’s not for him! It’s for—”

An annoyed noise comes out of Eddie’s throat and he aims for one more thunk of his head against the counter before tugging it back up and meeting Robin’s smug expression. She’s too smug. Her whole face is smug smug smug and Eddie scowls. He points a deliberate finger at her again.

“Different context, alright? That—” He waves an arm behind him, in the direction of Steve carelessly. “—doesn’t count. Nope. Not- that’s not how the test works.”

Robin sighs, as if she realises how fruitless it is to keep chucking this argument between the two of them. Her hands finally resume their typing and Eddie lets his head drop again, this time resting it against the wood a tad more gentle. He slumps, blowing a pointless raspberry as he tries to evacuate every thought that’s entertaining Steve as more. Or Steve wanting more of Eddie.

“Look,” Robin says suddenly, halting her typing once more. Eddie rolls his head so he can see her but doesn’t bother to lift it. She’s sideways in his vision, but still barreling on in that Robin way. “One last thing and then I swear, I’ll leave it.”

Eddie raises his brows. Says nothing.

“Have you considered,” She pauses, and appears to be trying to pick her words carefully. “whether anyone else is putting their bids on you?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, knowing exactly what she’s hinting at. Subtlety has never been Robin’s strong suit. It’s even more obvious when her eyes dart across the store — Eddie seriously doubts she’s talking about the random customer that had just entered.

“Just think about it?” She pleads, and Eddie feels his annoyance at how easily he can feel his heart roll over. “See if you notice any bids from... anyone! Anyone at all.”

Eddie picks his head up, chances a glance towards Steve and admits, there’s no harm in trying. Even though, Steve had surprised him today Eddie can find a dozen reasons to chalk that up to. A dozen reasons that don’t include mutual feelings.

Eddie mulls it over, because because what are the chances really? Steve putting bids out to him? To specifically Eddie? The chances are slim to none.

So the answer he gives is, “Sure.”

He’ll get to tell Robin later she can stuff it and wipe her smug expression off with the most righteous i told you so on the planet. There was no way she was right about this, right?

Part two. Part three.

[milaisreading]

Meet the boyfriend

Pairing: Leonardo Luna x Itoshi sister!Yn

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Yn is here like 24 or 25 years old. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Leonardo Luna!!" The blonde flinched from his spot on the couch. (Y/n) wasn't one to yell at him, or anyone as far as he could remember, but when she did it was the scariest experience in his life.

"Yes?" He smiled nervously as (Y/n) walked into the living room, looking pissed at the Spaniard.

"What time is it?" She asked as Luna looked at his phone.

"Like, 10 in the morning."

"And you didn't bother waking me up? You said you would. We are supposed to meet Sae and Rin in an hour."

"In my defense I tried to wake you up, but you sleep like a rock. I tried waking you up for 20 minutes and then gave up." Luna said, raising his arms defensively as (Y/n) stared at him for a moment and growing flustered by his words. She did believe him that one, her parents and brothers did tell her the same thing in the past.

"I am sorry for yelling at you like that. I am just stressed." (Y/n) sighed in defeat as Luna pulled her down to the couch, hugging her right after.

"What's wrong, mi vida? You are never like this?" Came his worried response right after. (Y/n) kept quiet for a moment, unsure how to formulate her thoughts the best. This meeting was very important to her, after all, her brothers are very protective of her, even if they were younger.

"It's just that this whole you meeting my brothers thing is stressing me out. You guys aren't on the best terms, and I fear how Rin might react. Sae might take it better  but I don't think he will try to calm Rin down-"

Before she could continue her ramble, Luna moved closer and kissed her. This surprised her, but she quickly recovered and kissed him back. The two parted after a minute and Luna gave her a warm smile, pulling her into a hug.

"It will be alright. I love you,and you love me. Whatever the two say won't bother me much."

"It won't?" (Y/n) hummed as Luna chuckled a little.

"I play football for a living. I hear insults on the field and critics all the time. Don't worry. But, I doubt they will say much, at least not in front of you." The older Itoshi moved away from the Spaniard, confused by his statement. But, just before she could answer the question, Luna decided to answer it for her.

"They love you, a lot. So I doubt they will say anything that might upset you, in front of you. I think the lunch will go well." Luna said simply, but it didn't help her at all.

"But they will still insult you when I am not there-"

"As I said, I heard worse on the field."

"How are you so relaxed?" She mumbled, pinching Luna's cheek as the blonde laughed.

By the time the two arrived at the restaurant, they were late by a good 20 minutes. Although Luna reassured her that everything will go well, her nerves were still all over the place. Sensing her uneasiness, Luna gave her hand a gentle squeeze, causing the girl to smile at him before looking for her brothers.

'It will go well.' She took a deep breath as she finally found the 2 sitting in a corner.

"Leo, I found them."

"Let's go then." He said casually as he finally spotted the younger two, pulling (Y/n) towards them. 

"Sae, Rin, sorry for being late." (Y/n) finally spoke up as they approached their table.

"It's ok, big sis. We just came here as well-" Sae stopped talking as his eyes landed on Luna's form, then they fell onto their hands. Rin, who needed a good minute to connect the dots cleared his throat and spoke up.

"So, this is the guy you are seeing?" He asked coldly, causing (Y/n) to flinch and Luna to chuckle a little.

"S-surprise." She stuttered out as Luna kissed her cheek.

"Leo." (Y/n) looked at him in shock as her brothers yelled at him.

"Hands off!"

"Don't kiss her so casually."

'Most awkward lunch...' (Y/n) thought as she looked at their glaring figures.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 8 . Nothing More, Nothing Less

tags: feelings in progress, author trying to write cliche romance scenes and cringing, author can't do scene changes T-T

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Navigation Masterlist prev . next

"Don't"

Cale suddenly spoke to _____. It has been a few hours after their conversation with the Golden Dragon Eruhaben.

"Don't even think about it. If you heal that dragon it will cost you your lifespan."

"...I understand young ma– I mean Cale-sunbae"

Cale Henituse doesn’t trust that one bit, but he needs to go out. He needs to go get his prize for working hard in the Jungle.

So he leaves the adults that are staying in Eruhaben’s lair reminders about _____. Only then was he able to leave with peace of mind.

“Little _____ being alive is precious! You know that right?”

It hasn’t even been 5 seconds since Cale left and Raon is already chatting up the healer. In the corner of the room, the ancient dragon pretends to not listen in on their conversation.

“Of course Raon Miru-nim. Living and being alive is the best thing.”

“Yes, you’re right smart _____!”

The baby dragon was silent for a second. He stared at the healer before flying over to their lap and lying there as if it were his personal pillow.

“Why did you think of doing that then?”

Raon’s voice was completely serious. The playfulness from earlier is gone.

It took _____ a few seconds to figure out what the black dragon was talking about.

“It was just a passing thought… That and isn’t it only right? As someone born with this kind of power, it would be right for me to use it for good.”

Eruhaben, who didn’t know the full extent of this healer's powers and had only heard that they were a healer from Pendrik, became confused at the direction this conversation was taking. What does living have to do with using their powers?

“But _____ you’ll die! I don’t want you to, we don’t want you to. If you die then I’ll destroy everything except the human and our other friends!”

The dragon’s gaze turned vicious for a second but returned to normal before _____ could see. He's a smart dragon, so after hearing the things the healer went through, he knows he has to be careful to not scare this human. It’s only right to have this much consideration for his friends.

“Don’t do that Raon-nim, you might get hurt. I promise not to die.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt. I’m great and mighty!”

“Yes, that is true, but I still worry.”

It was then _____’s turn to be silent. It looks as though they are thinking about how to formulate the right words.

“As I said Raon-nim doing things like this is part of my responsibility for being blessed with this kind of power. However, more than that… I think it would only be right to do this much for Eruhaben-nim. After all, he's going to give us a lot of things for free.”

Raon who has been intently listening prompted _____’s hands to pet him. The healer complied and started petting the dragon as they continued to speak.

“But again, it was just a passing thought. I’m not even sure if what we’re thinking is possible. I just want to pay Eruhaben-nim for the things his giving us.”

For a moment the baby dragon stopped nuzzling his head on _____’s stomach to get his point across.

“It’s fine we’ll manage to pay back Goldie Gramps even without your healing powers! I’m sure the human will find something!”

“I’m sure he will.”

Raon was almost sure he could see the faint smile that lingered on the healer’s lips. It was so small but Raon was sure it was there. He makes a silent promise that next time he’ll make _____  fully smile.

Like that, the members left in Eruhaben’s lair spent a peaceful time waiting for Cale.

Meanwhile, the same thing can’t be said for Cale.

The man is currently brewing a headache. Out of all people he just had to run into the wanted holy maiden and saint of the Mogoru Empire. Out of all things the holy maiden just had to be the swordmaster they fought in Hais. Out of all things that same person just had to be poisoned by dead mana.

Surprisingly, not really if you ask On, on their way back Cale’s main concern is not letting _____ know about the situation. He can’t risk the healer insisting on healing that fake holy maiden. Especially not when he's pretty sure Mary can handle it. 

If _____ knew then it would just turn into an annoying predicament for him. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Sure, if that’s what you say.”

That’s why he pushes On’s voice away from his head. He doesn’t even know why he thought of her. Contrary to the silver kitten's assumptions he didn’t care that much for the healer. He just felt a sense of responsibility since he took them under his wing.

Again, nothing more, nothing less.

Luckily an opportunity to question what happened in the Jungle did not arise.

As soon as Cale got back he was too busy conspiring with the crown prince as well as trying to find the earth's ancient power.

By the time they had any free time the Jungle was almost forgotten as their attention had been focused on the underground villa that came with the ancient power.

Everyone else used the free time they had acquired to train and get stronger. Everyone except Cale and _____ that is.

Since the two are weak in the physical aspect and have powers that cannot be fortified, the two opt to watch from the sidelines and provide moral support. 

At first, they just idly sit somewhere as they watch everyone else, only getting up to eat. Then after a few days, they were having full-blown tea parties. Well, it’s more like Cale will ask _____ if they want sweets, to which the healer would say no, Cale would then proceed to ask Beacrox to make some for him, and then when the sweets arrive he would insist that there’s too much so _____ must help him finish it or else the chef will have both of their heads.

Beacrox finds it quite amusing how _____ falls for it every time. 

Everything is fine and dandy. Well, almost everything. There’s just one thing that bothers Cale a little.

He was jealous of _____.

It’s comedic really. Because he was jealous of how _____ could move away whenever something important was being reported. Whenever someone goes to their designated tea table _____ would be seen standing up and moving away to give them some space.

In a way, it pisses off Cale because he knows the trauma associated with the habit.

But on the other hand…

He was so so jealous.

If only he could do the same thing then he’d be closer to his slacker life.

Cale wishes he could also just magically disappear whenever an annoying report is coming.

But alas he can’t.

So he takes in all the troublesome information he wishes he didn’t know.

Just don’t mention out loud how there seems to be a timer for how long you can report to him.

Three to five minutes is fine. During that time frame, Cale will still be attentive. Any more than that then everyone will see how his eyes seem to dart back and forth towards the healer.

As if longing for their company. Okay maybe not longing because Cale says it isn’t that, and whatever he says goes.

But anyway, everyone knows not to keep the healer away from the young master for too long.

If confronted about it, which wouldn’t happen unless one of the children is inquisitive, Cale would deflect that it was just because _____ is a good conversationalist. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

Sure at first it took a while to get a flow going because of the healer’s habit of needing permission to speak first. But it's gotten better after a few days of spending time with Cale.

They still won’t initiate conversations but they aren’t as stiff, and will openly share their ideas on a topic even when unprompted.

Cale thinks that’s good.

He won’t say that he's proud because he is not. Definitely not. It's just good that it's easier to talk to them now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, the conclusion is that Cale now has a conversation buddy and a normal one at that.

It's a nice change after only speaking to vicious people for such a long time.

“Well hypothetically if the main character is really the culprit then he would turn into everything he swore to not be. Which is not bad from a narrative standpoint but I don’t think that author in particular will write such things.”

“That is true… Based on the other books from this author that we’ve read, it’s unlikely they’ll make the main character turn back on their morals.”

‘Ah, it’s great to have normal conversations after only talking to vicious people.’

Cale could feel the tension leaving his body these days. It was all thanks to _____’s presence. For once the young master can talk to someone completely harmless, unlike the other people in their group.

On this particular day, the two are talking about a mystery novel they are currently reading. Two copies of the said novel are on the table along with their usual spread of sweets and tea. 

Beacrox and Ron must’ve decided to make liquorice the theme today. Their spread consisted of liquorice root tea[1], liquorice skyr cake[2], and some chocolate and liquorice tarts topped with raspberries. Cale doesn’t know why everything is liquorice today, but he's not going to complain because it’s better than lemon.

_____ takes a bite out of the tart, the chocolate smudging on the side of their lips in the process. 

“There’s this other novel I found that’s similar to what we read the other day. It's about some guy who's the sole reader of a book and that book came to life– oh you have some chocolate near your lips.”

Cale noticed the smudge and stopped talking to inform the healer. _____ tried to get the chocolate the young master was talking about but was unsuccessful.

After a few attempts of trying and missing Cale got tired.

“Come over here.”

If Cale’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he called _____ over then no one commented on it.

_____ leaned over the table they were compliant albeit a little confused as they didn’t know what the redhead was thinking. 

As soon as they did Cale also leaned over and wiped the small smudge of chocolate on their face.

Afterwards, the two continued eating and talking as usual. The spread of sweets slowly dwindled and the teapot gradually dried out. All while they switch from one topic to another.

In the corner of the villa, everyone ignored Hans as he repeatedly slapped the poor wall while watching the two.

[1] liquorice root tea from the liquorice plant is a sweet tea, poor Cale has been drinking nothing but lemon tea so I gave him a break.

[2] a skyr cake is a non-bake, served cold cake that's a bit similar to a cheesecake

[nicohischierz]

a street interview: mason mctavish

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

mason was walking through the mall with trevor and jamie when he got stopped by a girl holding a microphone.

"hi i have a podcast and this weeks theme is sports so I was wondering if you guys would be interested in answering a question on one of america's major sports," you spoke.

"what do you mean?" trevor asked, looking between his friends.

"well, i'll ask you a question from either the nhl, nba or mlb and if you guys answer it you can win a prize if you're interested," you explained.

the three boys looked at each other and nodded.

you turned to your friend and started rolling the camera. “okay choose a category, nhl, nba or mlb,”

trevor answered first “nhl.”

“the nhl is comprised of 32 teams with 7 of them being canadian. can you name the 7 canadian teams in the nhl?” you asked.

“toronto maple leafs!” mason exclaimed first.

the three then huddled into a group to think of the rest. “what about cole’s team?”

“montreal canadiens!”

“hey isn’t hughes in canada?” jamie asked

“omg the vancouver canucks!” trevor picked up on quickly.

“you guys have a minute to name the other four,” you prompted.

trevor looked at you appalled “hey, you never said it was timed!” he argued. you shrugged at him “now you know,”

“edmonton oilers and calgary flames,” mason added.

jamie and trevor tried their hardest to think of the last two teams but failing short they looked to mason.

“ottawa senators and umm i think the winnipeg jets,” he added.

you smiled at mason and nodded. “congratulations you guys are correct! and you’ve got a little prize. the three of you are the owners of the coffee hours podcast new merchandise and these tickets to the long beach indy car grand prix!” you handed the three their prize.

mason put his beanie on and smiled at the camera as trevor inspected everything.

you signalled to your friend to switch the camera off before turning to the three boys again. “you guys don’t have to keep the merch if you don’t want to but please use the tickets. my cousin gave them to me and i don’t know if i want to go,” you explained.

“i think my sister listens to your podcast,” trevor spoke. you smiled, your eyes twinkling at the realisation that people actually liked your content.

mason thought it was adorable.

"can i get your instagram," mason blurted.

jamie and trevor snickered at the boy as you gave him a warm smile. "sure," you held out your hand for his phone and put in your username.

it took mason three days to gain the confidence to message you. the boy stared at your profile for a whole hour before trevor forced him to say something.

"look she's half swiss and you were born in Switzerland, make conversation about that," trevor suggested.

mason shrugged. there wasn’t much to go on with that conversation starter and he knew deep down trevor also knew that.

zoe.fraser shared a video

zoe.fraser: you’re a hockey player?

“she messaged me!” mason exclaimed showing trevor and jamie his phone.

at that time, trevor’s girlfriend walked in as the boys discussed how mason should respond.

“i think you should send a shrugging emoji” - trevor

“maybe say you weren’t sure if she was a fan and didn’t think it was necessary to mention” - jamie

“girls like it when you’re a bit cocky” - trevor.

trevor’s girlfriend promptly hit her boyfriend over the head and asked mason for his phone.

“holy shit, that’s the host of the coffee hours podcast. i love her content, i always listen to her in my car,” she explained.

“mils, can you help mason?” jamie asked.

millie smiled and formulated a response.

masonmctavish: guilty 😅

zoe.fraser: well then i think you guys cheated

“you were in one of her video?!” millie exclaimed. trevor nodded and asked his girlfriend to continue her work.

masonmctavish: how about i make it up to you?

zoe.fraser: are you asking me out on a date?

masonmctavish: only if you say yes

zoe.fraser: friday 9:30, after your game

masonmctavish: you’ve got yourself a date

mason hugged millie before she moved over to trevor. millie patted the boys shoulder before settling in next to her boyfriend.

“i cant believe you met her. i would actually die and that’s saying a lot cause i’ve met fernando alonso and sebastian vettel,” millie mumbled.

trevor squeezed his girlfriends cheeks “i’ll give you the sweater she gave us. she said it was her first official merch,”

millie kissed her boyfriend before turning to mason. “you better not screw this date up,” she threatened lightly.

mason nodded, gulping hard.

that threat did not help his nerves. at all

[sonics-atelier]

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Based this post by @staryukis

Cw : MNDI , sexting , female reader x gojo , Masturbation , Fingering , gojo being a flirt .

Authors notes : Hello people of the jjk fandom, this is my first time writing for gojo so please be kind and let me know if you liked it, stay happy everyone <33

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, the only sound the rhythmic tapping of fingers on screens. Each text Satoru sent was more risqué than the last, the words weaving a spell that held them both captive. You lay in bed, biting your lip, your body reacting to his messages in ways that were impossible to ignore. You could almost hear his smirk in every response, feel the tension building between you with each suggestive word.

Your phone buzzed again, and you couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together aching for friction as you read his latest text. "I can't stop thinking about the way you looked in that dress tonight. It took everything in me not to pull you into a dark corner and have my way with you."

A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers hovering over the keys as you formulated your response. "And what exactly would you have done to me in that dark corner?" you typed, your breath hitching at the thought of that enticing body of his. You hit send, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Satoru's reply was almost immediate. "I'd start by pressing you up against the wall, my hands exploring every inch of your body. My lips would follow, tracing a path down your neck, to your collarbone, lower and then some ..."

You swallowed hard, your imagination running wild with his vivid descriptions. The ache between your legs grew more insistent, your body craving the touch his words promised.

You glanced at the time, realizing you'd been exchanging these heated texts for over an hour. You could picture him on the other end, probably just as worked up as you were.

His next message confirmed it. "I can barely think straight right now. I've been palming my hard on for the last 20 minutes, just imagining what I'd do to you, or even better, let you do to me."

Your breath hitched again, your own arousal almost unbearable, fueled even more at the visage of him, head thrown back, neck exposed while his hands work thumbing the viens, elicting the most melodious moans.

You could practically hear his voice in your head, each moan and gasp driving you wild. The heat pooled between your legs, and you couldn't resist the urge any longer. With trembling fingers, you typed out a response. "I wish I was there right now, feeling every inch of you. Tell me exactly what you'd do to me."

As you sent the message, your free hand slipped under the waistband of your panties, seeking out your own arousal. The slickness there was undeniable, and you shivered at the touch. Your mind was filled with images of Satoru, his body reacting to your touch, his fingers on you, and his hard length ready for you.

His reply came almost instantly. "I'd start by kissing you slowly, letting my hands roam over your body, teasing you until you're begging for more. Then I'd slide my fingers inside you, feeling how wet you are for me, curling them just right to make you moan my name again and again."

You whimpered, your fingers mimicking his words, sliding inside yourself, curling to hit that sweet spot. The sensation was almost too much, but you craved more. "I'm so wet thinking about you," you texted back, your breath coming in short gasps. "I need you so badly."

His response was even more explicit, detailing exactly how he would take you, the rhythm of his thrusts, the way he would watch your face as you came apart for him. Each word sent a jolt of pleasure through you, pushing you closer to the edge.

You could feel your orgasm building, your body tightening with every stroke of your fingers. The thought of Satoru watching you, hearing your moans, and knowing he was the cause, drove you wild. Your hips bucked against your hand, and you couldn't hold back the sounds escaping your lips.

"I'm so close," you typed, your hands shaking.

"Come for me," his message urged, and that was all it took. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your fingers slowed, drawing out the sensation, until you finally lay there, breathless and satisfied.

You stared at your phone, a mix of exhilaration and vulnerability washing over you. "I wish you were here," you sent, your heart pounding.

He replied with a winking emoji "One day soon, I'll make sure you feel everything I'm promising you." With one last glance at your phone, you set it aside, your body thrumming with desire imagining what it would be like to have Satoru with you, his touch real and his promises fulfilled. The thought was enough to keep you warm through the night . Perhaps a cold shower was in order, or two, or three . . .

The next morning, you woke up to the harsh light of day and the reality of your situation. You had plans to meet Satoru for coffee, and the memory of your late-night conversation made your heart race. How were you supposed to act normal around him when you knew how close you'd come to crossing a line neither of you could uncross?

You dressed carefully, opting for a casual yet flattering outfit, something that wouldn't give away just how much you were thinking about last night's texts. When you arrived at the café, Satoru was already there, looking as effortlessly charming as ever damn those striking blue eyes. His grin was boyish, but there was a glint in his eye that made your stomach do gymnastics.

"There's my pretty girl" he said, standing to give you a hug. His touch was salvation, his fingers brushing over your exposed back, almost chaste, but the memory of his words lingered, making your skin tingle.

"Hey," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, You sat down across from him, and for a moment, there was a charged silence, both of you remembering the tension from the night before.

He broke the silence first, his smile turning playful. "Did you dream about me?"

You cocked your head. "I did."

"I did too" he admitted, his eyes darkening slightly. "Couldn't stop thinking about our conversation."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Yeah, me neither."

There was another pause, and then he leaned in slightly, his voice low. "So, about that dark corner..."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking slightly. "Satoru, we're in public."

He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Just checking."

You both ordered your drinks, and as you sipped your coffee, the conversation flowed easily. You talked about mundane things—your work, his latest mission, the book you'd been reading, the movie he wanted to see. But every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the air would thicken with unspoken desire.

"So, I've been thinking about taking up a new hobby," you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground.

"Oh? What kind of hobby?" His eyes sparkled with genuine interest, but there was an underlying heat that made your heart race.

"Maybe painting," you replied. "I've always wanted to try it."

He leaned back, stretching his long very muscular legs under the table. "I can see that. You have an eye for beauty." His gaze traveled over you, making your skin prickle with awareness.

You blushed, taking a sip of your drink to hide your reaction. "Thanks. What about you? Any new interests?"

He shrugged, his shoulders moving with an effortless grace. "I've been thinking about learning to cook. Might be nice to surprise someone with a home-cooked meal."

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of Satoru cooking for you. "That sounds amazing. I'd love to try your cooking sometime."

His smile widened, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper."Careful what you wish for. I might hold you to that."

The rest of the coffee date went surprisingly smoothly. You talked about everything and nothing, the easy banter between you soothing the lingering heat from the night before. Yet, beneath the surface, the spark remained, a promise of what could be if either of you were brave enough to take that next step.

As you parted ways, Satoru hugged you again, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You could feel the strength in his arms, the warmth of his body against yours, and it left you pining after more.

"See you tonight?" he asked, warm breath againsnt the shell of your ear, his voice full of unspoken possibilities.

"Definitely," you replied, your heart racing with anticipation, already counting down the hours until your next encounter.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but smile, already thinking about what the night might bring. The game you played was dangerous, but exhilarating. And you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you made the first move, crossing the line between friends and something much more intense.

- @sonics-atelier ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form, I will decapitate you)

[slut4thebroken]

Antidote

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | You go to Jason for help after being exposed to Ivy’s sex pollen

Warnings | HARD KINKS smut, sexual content, 18+, coercion, rape, dubious consent, drugged sex, forced breeding

Words | 1.8k

Notes | idk man I just need therapy at this point

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

He opened the door to find your hunched over frame, panting and sweaty. As you stumbled forward into him, he could see your pupils blown wide and the blush on your cheeks. 

“Princess, what-“

“Please help.” You moaned, clutching at his shirt to keep your hands from wandering. “Ivy, she- she did something to me.” 

“Okay- it’s okay.” He stepped away from you to close the door, making you whine. “C’mon, you can stay in my room. You just need to sleep it off.” Leading you down the hall, he watched you try to formulate a coherent response rather than a needy whine.  

“Hurts.” Was all you managed to say. 

“I know, baby. It’ll be over in a couple hours.” 

“Jay, please I can’t wait that long. Please help me. Call- call Dick or something. See if he knows of an antidote.” Jason clenched his jaw at the mention of his older brother. Once you were both in his room, he closed the door and watched you fan yourself, resisting taking off your clothes. 

It would be so easy. So easy for him to take you, make you his, fuck you stupid until all you could say was his name. And why shouldn’t he? You’re the one who came to him like this- vulnerable, pliant, needy. Although this was part of his original plan, he still had doubts that you would come to him. But you did. And it was working out better than he could have hoped.

Luring you to that abandoned warehouse was easy. He left obvious clues for you to find, pretending to be Ivy. Setting the trap was even easier. The second you opened the door, the most potent pollen she has would drop down on you. From there, he just had to trust that you would come to him and no one else. And you did. 

“I know an antidote.” Your eyes widened as your head snapped to him. 

“You do? What is it?” Your voice was getting progressively whinier and it went straight to his cock. He slowly stalked forward, making you stagger back the closer he got, until you finally hit a wall. 

“It’s unconventional. But it works.” He shrugged as he stopped only inches from your burning body. 

“What- what is it?” He placed a hand on your waist and snaked it around your back, then down to your ass. “Jay?” You whimpered, hips bucking subconsciously. He pulled you into his body and tightened his grip on your ass. When you felt the bulge in his sweatpants you took in a sharp breath. Despite the fact that you were panting and practically drooling, he noticed that you were still pretending to object to his advances. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m helping you, princess. Gonna make you feel better.” His other hand met the inside of your thigh and slowly snaked up. “You just need my cock in your little cunt. That’ll make you feel better, baby, I promise.” He cupped your sex and your hips bucked forward as you let out a whimper. 

He quickly removed both hands and pulled the zipper of your catsuit down enough to slip it off your torso. Once it was around your thighs, he turned you around and shoved you into the wall. He dragged an experimental finger through your sex and hummed in satisfaction when he felt your arousal. 

“I can fucking smell your cunt from up here.” He growled, making you let out an embarrassed whine. He wasted no more time taking himself out of his pants and pulling your underwear to the side. When the blunt head of his cock brushed your folds, you jerked forward, but he grabbed your hip and held you still. 

“Jason, wait.” Your protest died off into a moan when the tip met your clit. It didn’t stay there long though. Becoming too impatient, he pushed his length into your weeping hole. Despite your moans, your hips moved away from the sensation, so he followed you. He pushed forward until your body was completely flush with the wall, then kept pushing in until his hips met your ass. Scrambling for purchase on the wall, you released a broken moan at the stretch and he leaned his head down to rest his forehead on your shoulder. 

“So fucking tight.” He groaned, digging his nails into your hips. “Is my cock too big for you, baby? Can you not take it?” He cooed mockingly, but all you could do in response was let out a choked sob. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.” He chuckled, but it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

He suddenly pulled out and slammed back in, starting a brutal pace. But despite the roughness, you were already nearing your orgasm. When you finally fell over the edge, he let out a strangled moan. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” He moaned, his pace never even slowing. Even after your orgasm, you were still pushing your ass into him and moaning, but now your sounds were pained rather than needy. He’s never experienced Ivy’s pollen before, but he’s heard the stories. Orgasms only help for a moment. Then you’re back to needing to come, only this time you’re quickly becoming overstimulated. “Feel any better yet, princess?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“No.” You whined, reaching a hand down to your throbbing clit. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m not even close to done with you yet. We have all fuckin night for me to fuck your holes and fill you up with my come.” You let out a vulgar moan at his words and he chuckled darkly. “Yeah I bet you want my come, don’t you? You want me to stuff you full and fuck it back into you over and over again?” Your nod looked strained, as if part of you was still trying to regain control of your body. That amused him. 

Abruptly pulling out, he maneuvered you to the bed and shoved you backwards, making you land with a grunt. He quickly ripped off your shoes and clothes, then climbed over you and lifted your legs over his shoulders. 

“I’m gonna breed you, baby. I’m gonna make you mine.” He said through a moan as he entered you again and resumed the punishing pace. 

You let out a low whine and if he didn’t know you better, he’d believe it was a whine of arousal, but it wasn’t. Despite your half lidded, lust blown eyes, the blush painting your cheeks, and your moans, this whine was hesitant. It was as close as you’d be able to get to begging him not to come inside you. 

Your body and mind were at war and you relied on him for his help- his restraint. That was your first mistake. If you didn’t want him to take advantage of you, you shouldn’t have come to him pliant and horny. It was your own fault really. And if you accused him of anything different, he’d make sure to say so. 

“Jay,” A poorly toned warning. He’d make sure to mention how you moaned his name. How you clenched down on his cock as he talked about breeding you. He’d tell you how you practically forced yourself on him, barely letting him get a word in before sinking down on his cock. “Please…” He’d tell you how you begged him to breed you. After all, you literally said “please” and who was he to deny you. 

He snaked a hand down to your clit, but found yours already there. 

“Look at that… You want to come again so bad, don’t you?” He cooed and you let out a whimper as you nodded. “Go ahead, princess. Make a mess all over my cock.” He smirked, intensifying his thrusts. His hand reached up and squeezed your neck, cutting off your scream as you came again. This one was more intense than the last one and even though it gave you relief for a moment, the burning came back tenfold. 

He pounded your abused hole as you laid there, limp and breathless. Tears were brimming in your eyes, from what, he wasn’t sure. He’d guess frustration from a lack of relief or overstimulation. As the tears started to fall, he felt his orgasm rapidly approaching. Each thrust of his cock punched little breaths and whimpers out of you, all of it making him impossibly harder. 

“Ready to take my come?” He said breathlessly. You whined again, in a last ditch effort of protesting his promises. “I’m gonna knock you up, princess. Then you’ll be stuck with me.” He purred, an unnerving smirk settling on his lips. 

He thrusted only a few more times before burying his cock to the hilt inside you and letting out a low moan. His brows furrowed as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling your greedy pussy take everything he had to give. Distantly, he heard you whining and whimpering, still not accepting what was happening. He let his head hang down as he panted, feeling you squirm under him. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was met with the sight of you crying and babbling out pleas as your hips attempted to keep up his previous rhythm. It was obvious that your mind didn’t even have a chance at winning the war against your body. Letting out a low chuckle, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed them all the way against your chest, then started fucking you again. You cried out at the new angle and he felt your walls flutter around his sensitive length. 

“It probably didn’t take this time. So I’ll have to come in you again.” He smirked- not even pretending to be coy anymore. You let out a choked sob, probably too overwhelmed physically and emotionally. 

Despite his eagerness to just come in you as many times as possible, he also wanted to savor this. He wanted the night to last as long as possible. He wanted you to cry and beg for him to stop, to not come in you anymore even though he probably already knocked you up. He wanted to keep fucking you long after the pollen has worn off, so that instead of being sensitive and needy, you’d just be sensitive. Maybe he’d offer your cunt mercy by fucking your ass instead. And because of how overstimulated you’d be, you’d probably say yes. He wanted to feel your pussy flutter around his cock as you came, twice wasn’t enough. 

But most of all, he wanted to break you. Body, mind, and spirit. He wanted you so fucked out, so cockdrunk, that you’d let him do anything. He wanted you to beg him to keep you locked up, to make you his mindless fuck doll. He wanted you to beg him to breed you- to fuck a baby into you so you’d have to stay with him. 

And if you didn’t break by the end of the night? He has more pollen, he can do this as long as it takes. 

[mesetacadre]

How do you avoid becoming a doomer with politics? I want to be more politically active but the current political climate makes me feel depressed.

talked more about this here but essentially, nothing is static. Conditions change all the time, the quantity of organized people can fall and rise (with parallel but not necessarily 1:1 development of quality). What today seems like an impassable wall, tomorrow (not literally tomorrow) will more and more began to be seen as a necessary step for an improvement to happen. The fact that there exists a scientific method of analysis of history and capitalism also acts as an accelerant; how much time passed between the first bourgeois state and the first formulation of scientific communism, 50 years? That is unprecedented in the history of modes of production, and it only took another 50-60 years after that before the first relatively permanent instance of the next mode of production.

The way I see this, inaction and pessimism feed into each other, pessimism favors inaction, and inaction reinforces pessimism, by limiting your perception because it limits personal experience. And that cycle can only be broken by first stopping that inaction, since it is possible (not always) to force yourself to act against your general feelings. And then, only by working against that inaction and finding an organization/party or general line of action that works for you, can you begin to sustain an action-optimism cycle (of course, it isn't this simple and I would not call my outlook to be optimistic, but this is the best way I can think of explaining this). This cycle is, in my experience, very fragile, and somewhat often I continue to act through periods of relative pessimism by inertia and by the continuance of the responsibilities that bind me to my party most strongly. I can keep talking about the way society and the economy evolve, but at a personal and more inmediate scale, this is the only way to avoid "doomerism", at some point you're going to have to start acting if you want to avoid it, and rethoric can help, of course, but you'll only start to internalize it once you experience becoming an active part of these mechanisms. For me, it sometimes feels like a hobby, other times like a chore, and most times like the best thing I could ever do with my life. But it's crucial that you're not only driven by blind hope. The amount of effort and time you can contribute as an individual will vary wildly, depending on your own personal circumstances, and in my experience the most common type of organized person you'll encounter is the one that can only really dedicate a few days a week or a couple of hours every few days.

There is some nuance to "you have to end your inaction" too, of course. I'm not saying to join the very first group you encounter and dedicate every minute of free time to it, but you also can't be waiting for the perfect opportunity or org to come along. I contacted my ML party on a Tuesday during a winter academic break, while I was only just beginning to stabilize out of a suicidal episode but still depressed, and while considering myself mostly an ancom (I was very lost in that regard, my beliefs were not truly emergent from any proper anarchist core, but I digress). You don't need to have read x books or need to have encyclopedic knowledge of your local movement to begin to organize yourself, and you also don't need to believe 100% in the emancipation of workers. The best time to begin is the next time you have some free time to research and begin to contact some orgs/parties, that's as best as I think I can put it. I can't assure you that it'll be straightforward, but I can assure you that you can't get out of doomerism just by thinking about it.

If it's too daunting, think about those executive dysfunction "tricks". Joining A Party can sound very big an unapproachable, but you can break it down into looking, for example, for "Communist Party of [your country]". Look at their socials, see what they do and say, maybe you find an offshoot org that looks better, or run into a completely unrelated group. Then you contact them, ask when they're doing something in your area or if they can invite you to some kind of meeting, etc. Be willing to contact them if you find a couple of drawbacks too, sometimes rumors turn into the thing everybody says about x or y org, without really reflecting reality. Have criteria, of course, if some org is talking about immigrants like they're invaders, for example, it is probably not worth your time. Everything depends on what your local scene looks like. Getting experience at a mediocre org is still better than staying at home and looking on at the state of the world like it's hopeless. this isn't a very well-structured post, I've been writing this across a few days when I can, I hope it's helpful

[lorre-verie]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ. ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the unfortunate pair: ao’nung x fem! sully! reader

chapter summary: ao’nung is doing his best to hide his discomfort by someone else getting closer to you, and you’re hiding a couple of secrets yourself 🤭

warnings: cussing, jealousy, the teeniest TINIEST microscopic pinch of possessiveness ever (u can see it if u squint rlly hard)

word count: 3.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | masterlist

“I dare you to say one more thing about my swimming, you pompous ass,” you glared at Ao’nung as he moved through the water with obnoxious ease.

His self-satisfied smirk made you want to vomit. “Challenge accepted,” he cocked his head back to look down at you. 

It had been 5 days since you fainted, enough time for you to recover and enough time for you and your family to get acquainted with how things worked around Awa’atlu.

Your family was definitely concerned, your father was on the brink of calling Norm here to check up on you, but you insisted it was a one time thing. After all, it was probably just because you spent so many sickening days on your ikran.

Today Tsireya, Rotxo, and the tall blue frog had taken you and your siblings swimming to get you guys accustomed to the water, but he just wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Your tiny weak tail can barely support your movement, your body is rigid, your hair is all messy,” he went on and on about things that weren’t even related to your swimming, and you were this close to choking him out in front of his sister.

You were all floating in the middle of a reef, Tsireya and Rotxo were helping your siblings swim faster while the blue frog was berating your every move because he didn’t have anything better to do. 

As he kept going on about the most minuscule things in your appearance and habits, the corners of your lips turned up as you’d found a way to make him shut up, at least for a little while.

The only good thing about his unabating whining was that it went long enough for you to formulate a good response by the time he finished. 

“Your fingers flail around like you’re trying to conjure up a magic spell while you swim,” and as he paused, you’d found your moment to strike. 

“Wow, Ao’nung!” you batted your eyelashes, pretending to be appreciative.

“It sure sounds like you’ve been staring at me for a while now. Tell me again why you were paying such obsessively close attention to my every move?” your sweet smile concealed the way your eyes narrowed wickedly, watching him choke on his sentence. 

“That’s, that’s not..” he tried to explain himself, but you swam away to your siblings triumphantly, finally having gotten him off your back for at least an hour or two. 

“Having fun with your true love, sister?” Lo’ak chirped as you passed him in the water, his smile way too wide to be genuine.

You made a small gagging motion before Tsireya popped out in the water in front of him, and you heard her say softly, “Lo’ak? Did you get that?”

His brain malfunctioned, as he could only stammer out a “Yeah, yeah, I uhm, I got it.”

Your mouth curved into a cheeky smile that mirrored his. “I dunno, are you having fun with yours?” you dipped your head under the water to swim away, and as you did so you saw his submerged hand flip you off, causing your smile to grow wider.

Your twin brother was swimming laps on his own along the surface like a pro, and while he took a break you decided to surprise him. He stopped his motions, taking deep breaths with his back to you. 

You snuck up to him carefully, trying to make it seem like you were simply one with the waves underneath the ocean.

“BOO!” you slammed your hands onto his back, and the most laughable, unexpectedly shrill shout came from his mouth. 

“Y/N!” he scolded, his voice cracking. “That was,” you laughed in between your words, “That was awesome– Oh my gosh–”

He scowled at you, clearing his throat as he noticed the rest of his siblings and the metkayinans staring at him, also holding in their laughs. 

“Bro, you scream like a girl!” Lo’ak yelled. “Yeah, and you like a girl!” Neteyam rolled his eyes, amused by the flush creeping up Lo’ak’s cheeks, him whipping around to see if Tsireya had caught onto that.

Neteyam sighed, looking at you who was still laughing lightly. “To what do I owe this surprise visit from my favourite sister?” he emphasised the word “favourite” as if he was being sarcastic (he totally wasn’t). 

“Nothing much. Just wanted to know what you thought of our new home so far.” The words came off bitter on your tongue. You wanted to spit them out and wish them farewell, to never see them again. 

He exhaled sharply, “Huh. Well, it’s alright. But I suspect you’re adjusting well, hm?” he gave you a smirk, looking at Ao’nung who was talking to Rotxo behind you.

You turned to look in his direction, observing the pompous ass frog (Ao’nung). Your eyebrows scrunched together, eyes peering at his more relaxed posture.

You could only see the side of his face from here, but it was enough to see the clear difference when he talked to you versus when he talked to literally almost anyone else.

His shoulders were square, posture straight, and he exuded a natural sort of confidence, and not the assface kind. He gestured with his hands while speaking, your own fingers twitching when it dawned on you much larger his hands were. 

He maintained eye contact, listening attentively to what Rotxo had to say and nodding or smiling in response. He seemed genuinely interested in what his friend was saying, and your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to be able to talk to him in the same manner.

You gulped subconsciously before turning around, meeting eyes with a smirking Neteyam. “...He looks like a disfigured frog,” were the words you vomited out. 

“Yeah, well you kinda have crushes on the strangest looking people.” he said with a teasing tone, an angry splash of water hitting him in the face right after.

“I do not have a crush on that idiot. He infuriates me!” you continued to vent to Neteyam about the frog’s condescending and foul behaviour the past few days, your frustration spilling out in a torrent of words. your brother only responding in satirical ‘mhm’s, ‘yeah’s, and ‘ok’s.

You were too invested in your ranting to feel the abnormal movement in the water, a small tap on your shoulder making your body freeze. You turned around and there he was, looking at you quizzically with a hint of a smirk on his face. Your brother (that skxawng) let out a low whistle before quickly disappearing into the water, leaving you all by your lonesome. 

“I suppose you enjoy talking about me then, little forest imp?” he smugly crossed his arms, enjoying watching you try to regain your composure. “Just shut up,” you huffed before swimming away as fast and as far as your arms and legs could take you.

You had to admit that as annoying as he was, Ao’nung always being there to make fun of you served as good fun for the day. But then again, on days that would have been perfectly fine on their own, he was a little piece of shit. 

Today was the day you would learn how to bond with and ride the ilu, something you and Kiri were both equally as excited about.

You stood next to her in the warm light of the day, the beautiful water engulfing your body waist-deep. 

Your siblings were all standing (Tuk clutching onto Neteyam like her life depended on it) in a circle around Ao’nung who was clicking his tongue, summoning a few ilu to assist us for the day.

“If you want to live here,” he made it a point to glance at you before saying his next statement, “you have to ride.”

Kiri groaned next to you, and you turned your head confusedly, “What’s up?” She gave you an unsmiling look, something close to pity in her eyes. “It’s nothing, just don't worry about it,” she waved you off, averting her attention to one of the ilu that had caught her eye.

Tsireya tread through the water to stand next to her older brother, using her finger to count the amount of omaticayans and the metkayinans to assign us into pairs.

“Alright, I will decide the pairs if that is okay with all of you?” she looked towards everyone, each person giving her a little nod of agreement.

“Okay!” she smiled. “Neteyam can be with Ao’nung,” you saw Neteyam roll his eyes, Ao’nung turning to look at his sister with accusatory eyes. Tsireya pretended not to notice, simply 

“Rotxo can be with Lo’ak,” who both seemed a little downcast at this (clearly they were expecting to be paired with someone else). 

“I will help Kiri and Tuk…” Tsireya’s eyes fell on you. “And Y/N can be with Veyä.” 

You tilted your head, the name unfamiliar to your ears. Who’s Veyä? I don’t see anyone else here, you thought to yourself as you looked at your twin, but his eyes didn’t meet yours, instead pointed behind you. 

You felt a sudden rush of a strange type of warmth as someone's hand landed softly on your bare shoulder, your body tensing in response.

“I apologise, where are my manners?” a female voice sounded from beside you, removing her hand from your shoulder. As you set your gaze upon her, you felt a sudden flutter in your chest. The woman before you was undeniably beautiful, and you found yourself momentarily lost in her captivating features. 

She was about Neteyam’s height, maybe a little shorter, and the smile on her face was cheshire-like. Short locks of dark curly hair fell in front of the right side of her face, the left side of her hair woven into tiny braids leading back into a tight ponytail.

“My name is Veyä Te Tiva Iyrr'ite,” she introduced herself, bowing her head slightly, yet her eyes never left yours. “I will help you with your ilu training,” she smiled. Your cheeks grew warm as you summoned the courage to introduce yourself to her. 

“My name is Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite,” as the words left your mouth, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle curve of her lips and the gentle sparkle in her eyes.

However, what you didn’t notice was that a few feet away, a certain disfigured frog tensed up as he watched your interaction with Veyä, his jaw clenching in place when she kissed the back of your hand. 

“You know, brother, if you want to be paired with her, you could just say so,” Tsireya giggled from behind him, never seeing this side of her brother before. “No, it’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth. 

Veyä clicked her tongue, summoning who you assumed to be the ilu she rode most often.

“Come, Y/N. There is so much I want to show you,” she extended a hand. You took it reluctantly, hoisting yourself up onto the ilu and sitting as comfortably as you could behind her. 

She reached behind her back, taking your hands and guiding them around her slender waist. “You’re going to want to hang on tight for this,” she said, you being unable to respond because of the closeness. She took your silence as an ‘i’m ready.’ and you both took off into the sea, another ilu trailing closely behind. 

“That was painful to watch, dude.” Lo’ak chimed in behind Ao’nung, slapping his back.

He turned around, eyes shooting daggers into Lo’ak’s soul. He merely shrugged and trudged away in the water, unfazed by the frog’s hostility. 

“That’s it, just lean into it,” she offered gentle encouragement and reassurance, her hands pressing firmly on your back to fix your posture as you sat on the ilu. You relaxed under her expert guidance, feeling more confident with each passing moment. 

“You got it. Now try going for a spin,” she clapped, an exuberant smile on her face.

You inhaled, here goes nothing. You urged the creature to go, and you took off into the water. Fighting the pressure of the water pushing against your body you leaned forward as Veyä instructed, and you felt the pressure flow around your head, making it much easier for you to see. 

You took the time to admire the beauty of the underwater terrain before resurfacing, shaking the water out your hair. The urge to cough appeared in your chest, followed by a sharp pain as Veyä swam to you on her ilu.

You ducked your head behind the head of your ilu; out of her line of sight, coughing uncontrollably. You could taste the unmistakable metallic tang of blood when you closed your mouth, making your heart stop momentarily out of fear.

There was a small dissipating amount of your blood on the surface of the water, the redness contrasting greatly with the deep blue colour of the sea, the sight making your heart race.

“Y/N? Is something the matter?” Veyä asked you. You forced a thin lipped smile, shaking your head.

“No, I was just clearing my throat,” you swallowed, feeling the warm liquid disappear down your throat. Fear gnawed at your heart, but you dismissed it and started a casual conversation with Veyä, asking about what she liked to do in her free time.

The next day, during the point when it was always the hottest, Kiri led you to a little island where your brothers and the three amigos waited.

“Oh wow, how nice of you to finally join us, Y/N!” Lo’ak marvelled in mock surprise, squatting on the rough rocky floor. “We’ve been waiting for like an hour.”

Neteyam flicked his forehead, muttering something along the lines of “you seemed to really enjoy that hour, alone with your girlfriend” before Lo’ak hushed him quickly.

You gave an apologetic look to Tsireya and Rotxo. “Sorry, I was spending time with a friend and I lost track of time,” you said softly, Tsireya and Rotxo assuring you it was no big deal. 

Ao’nung snorted next to them, whether he was annoyed or amused you couldn’t decipher. “Yeah right, a ‘friend’” he put his hands up in quotation marks, making you wonder where he learned that from (there were certainly no quotation marks in na’vi).

Anyhow, you gave him your best stfu glare before sitting down in the only vacant spot, which conveniently was right next to Ao’nung. 

You felt the warmth of the rock on your legs as Tsireya started to explain how to best breathe, making you feel a little ridiculous as if you hadn’t even been born yet.

Nonetheless, you did as she said.

Inhale through the nose, inflate the stomach, hold, and let go.

“pfft,” the frog watched you, his eyes judging your every move. You took a deep breath in, a fiery flame lighting up in your abdomen as you remembered what Veyä had said to you previously that day.

You blow a breath out before tilting your head in his direction condescendingly. “Ao’nung,” you sigh, giving him a look of sympathy. 

“I know that everything I do is captivating, but I’m not sure that I’m ready for a stalker just yet,” you smile sinisterly, watching his nonexistent eyebrows rise, your response unexpected.

The rest of the group ignored you both, either sighing, smiling brightly (Tsireya) or rolling their eyes, not wanting to get involved in your antics. “There they go again,” Neteyam huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Captivating? That’s a really strange way to pronounce vomit-inducing,” he lifted his chin up, leaning back to allow his arms to support his upper body.

“Mmm okay, so what? I can’t breathe right or something?” you gave him an eye roll, straightening your back. “Your words, not mine, forest imp.” 

“Then teach me, you intolerable shit piñata,” you said, the last words leaving your mouth in english.

Kiri and Lo’ak covered their mouths to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter, your older brother shaking his head but unable to stop the small smirk that crept up onto his face.

Tsireya and Rotxo shrugged, not really caring what you meant. But Ao’nung? Boy, was he dumbfounded.

“What?” 

“I said, you’re an intolerable shit piñata.”

“...What is s- ..shi…shit?” he sputtered, struggling to make the word sound how you said it. “You should be more concerned about what a piñata is,” you smiled grimly, taking in a deep breath, imagining an Ao’nung shaped pinata filled with….you know.

“Tell me what it means, Y/N,” he urged you, the smallest hint of desperation in his voice. Your lips parted at hearing him call you your name for once. It was always forest imp or some other crude amalgamate of sloppily stuck together words.

“Well if you’re so desperate,” you turned your body towards him, a fake smile plastered on your face. “Teach me how to do this properly, and then I’ll tell you what it means.”

He paused as if to consider, before giving you a slight nod.

You readied yourself, taking in a deep breath and closing your eyes. The air flowed through your airway, resting in your lungs. “No,” you felt a warm hand press on your stomach, and your breath hitched.

His touch was gentle, yet firm, and the warmth of his palm seeped into your skin, spreading a comforting yet alien sensation throughout your body.

“Try again,” he said softly, the sound of his voice like this running a shiver down your spine. You tried not to make it obvious you were flustered, pursing your lips together. 

You inhaled again, your shoulders rising with the inflation of your chest. His hands lifted up from your stomach, one of his fingers grazing your top before they landed on your shoulders.

“Don’t move your shoulders,” his voice was tender, a big difference from his usual sharp tone. “Try again, inflate the stomach and not the chest,” he instructed. 

His hands felt like cushy pads on your shoulders, and you struggled to not melt into the strangely comfortable contact. You did as he instructed, feeling your stomach get bigger as you inhaled.

“Good, now hold it for as long as you can,” he said, his hands still on your shoulders for unexplainable reasons.

Neteyam and Lo’ak glowered at your position, the metkayinan boy staring deeply at your face as you kept your eyes shut. “Who does that guy think he is?” Lo’ak hissed silently. 

“He’s getting so touchy with her all of a sudden. In front of us, too,” Neteyam agreed, though he had an inkling that Ao’nung knew they were imagining his sudden, violent death.

Kiri sat there unbothered, choosing not to pay any mind to you both and instead imagining the hundred other things she could be doing. 

“Lo’ak, focus,” Tsireya clapped her hands in front of Lo’ak to get his attention. “Right, sorry,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, continuing with the breathing exercise. 

You felt your lungs burning, finally exhaling to relieve the pain, your eyes adjusting to the light when you finally opened them. “That was….” Ao’nung paused, taking his hands off your shoulders. 

They still felt warm. 

“It was alright,” he said nonchalantly. “You need more practice though,” he stood up, walking to the shore of the tiny island, clicking to summon his ilu with you looking at him in confusion.

“Well? Are you going to come along or are you just going to stand there and look dumb?” 

You quickly got up, hurrying to try and summon an ilu by making similar clicking noises, Ao’nung laughing at your attempt. An ilu got your point, in the end.

He took you to a spot closer to Awa’atlu, a shell in his hands as he floated in front of you in the water.

“I’m going to let this shell sink, and you’re going to take it from the bottom of the sea floor and bring it back up to me,” he explained. 

You nodded, not thinking much of the activity. He smirked, dropping the shell into the sea with a plop!

“Okay, go fetch.” 

Your eyes narrowed, realising that this wasn’t really an activity suited for two na’vi, but rather a na’vi and their 'companion'.

“You never wanted to help me did you?” you groaned, about to swim away from the assface. The sudden tug of your hand in his stopped you.

He gave you an eye roll. “This is a normal practice, calm down. Adults use it to train younger children. But in your case, you haven’t even been born yet,” he joked, amused by your scowl as you settled down, returning to your former position and shaking his hand off yours. 

After submerging his head briefly in the water, he suggested, “On second thought, perhaps we should find a shallower area. This might be too deep for you.” 

“I can do it,” you said confidently. You wanted to prove to him you were not to be underestimated. 

“Are you sure? It's pretty far.” he says, the tiniest pinch of concern leaving his lips, but you were too focused on taking a deep breath in to notice. Without answering him, you dive into the water, the coolness enveloping you.

You search with your eyes for the shell, using your arms to propel you deeper into the water. And there it is, resting on the bottom of the sea floor, the purple shell glistening in all its glory, practically whispering into your ear for you to save it. 

As you descended, you felt the pressure building in your ears, equalising it with a quick pinch of your nose. You made a grab for the purple shell, but as you got closer, you realised that it was just out of reach. You kicked your legs harshly against the water and reached out again, but your lungs started to burn, your vision blurring. 

Despite your body's signals screaming at you to resurface, you fought to stay down, desperate to retrieve the shell. You tried again, grasping at empty water, your movements becoming sluggish and your arms feeling heavier by the second. 

You felt your consciousness starting to fade, but you pushed on stubbornly, determined to succeed. Eventually, though, your body succumbed to the lack of air, and you passed out in the water, sinking to the bottom, the shell just out of reach.

“Where is she?” Ao’nung muttered to himself, deciding to submerge his head in the water again.

His eyes widened in a panic when he couldn’t see you swimming up to him and without a second thought, he dove down to find you. His eyes landed upon your unconscious body, and he quickly scooped you up in his arms, bringing you up to the surface.

BONUS (wonder what Veyä told reader that spurred her to continue her daily dose of insulting ao'nung instead of ignoring him?):

“Veyä, good morning. Was there a specific reason you called me over here?” you gave her a small smile, sitting on the sand next to her. 

“Not really, just wanted to clear up something.” she chuckled a little, head turning to look at you. “Tsireya called me over yesterday to help you with the ilu because she said and I quote, ‘my brother needs to stop being a coward’”

Huh? Huh??????

“Wait so– The sudden intimacy and the kissing the back of my hand thing, that was to make Ao’nung feel jealous?” you asked her, shell shocked. 

“Not really, I do that to almost every pretty girl I see,” she winked at you, taking pleasure in seeing your ears flush purple. 

“He’s a lucky man, that one.” Veyä stood up, offering you her hand.

“What? We’re not together. We won’t ever be together. Ever. Yuck. I don’t know why everyone keeps thinking that,” you took her hand, pulling yourself up.

“Well then, you might be surprised by what Eywa has planned out for the two of you.”

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | masterlist

P.S I’M EYWA 

i wanted to get this out asap so i don’t lose my relevance 💔 and because i wanted to. thank u guys so much for all the love you showed part 1, i hope that this part is just as satisfactory 💗💗💗💗💗 i really did want to make Veyä a more rounded out character rather than just a temporary plot device, but i decided it wouldn’t mesh well with what i had planned for the rest of the story. I hope she made u giggle in your heart at the very least!

Taglist: @eywas-heir @elegantkidfansoul @yeosxxx @whoreforpomegranates @fanboyluvr @thecrazyswamp @shkudss @stvrligghtt @ratchetprime211 @dearstell @littlecrisisworld @itssomeonereading @goodiesinthecloset21 @ilovejakesullysdick @larkkyoris @opalescentblog @lovedbychoi @plzfeedmebread @holysaladapricothero

note: usernames in red are the ones I couldn't tag, so sorry 😭

[lambilegs]

Lee who takes care of you after she comes home really late from work one night after unexpectedly being asked to stay longer and you’re just absolutely beside yourself because you have anxietyTM and were convinced something terrible had happened when she wasn’t home when she said she would be and wasn’t answering her phone

lee comforting you after she unexpectedly returns late one night (angst + hurt/comfort)

awe :(( this is so sweet and angsty I'm in love (tysm for the request!! I loveee angst and hurt/comfort, so this was so tender to write :''))

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ✩₊˚🧸.⋆☾⋆⁺₊💤✧

when lee enters the elevator in the bureau, bidding a farewell to agent carter, she immediately sags against the wall, her legs nearly aching. she hasn't had such a packed, tight-scheduled day like this in a while. she got in, and immediately, was flooded with photographic evidence and documents that she had to spend hours pouring over and making notes of. she took a short, twenty minute lunch break, which consisted of making coffee, calling you and eating a quick granola bar. after visiting the library and spending hours on even more research, carter then asked her to stay back to visit one of the victims' homes with him. of course, she wanted, and needed, to say yes, curiosity burning in her to discover more about the recently deceased man and provide answers for his family.

but, she's now weary to the bone. the urge to yawn keeps swimming up her throat, mouth wet with the drool from it and eyelids heavy. she forces herself to remain upright, walking cautiously through the parking lot, eyes scanning around. upon entering her car, she leans her forehead on the wheel, sucking in a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of the exhaustion so she can focus on the drive home. after squeezing her eyes open and shut, she finally starts on her way home to you.

upon entering her cottage, an unsettling feeling washes over her. she checks her watch -- it's late, sure, but you're usually up at this time, doing some work of your own or on the couch, watching television. but, her home was eerily silent. she quietly locks the door, slipping her shoes off and neatly placing them on the rack, before venturing further.

she calls out for you, her chest beginning to tickle with nerves when you don't answer. she silently makes her way to her bedroom, door creaking as she pushes it open. "babe?"

her breath hitches when she sees the state of you. you're curled into her blankets, eyes teary, mouth tight with anger. when she steps in, you practically glare at her, and the sharpness of your stare is enough to have her freezing in place. "what is it?" she asks, voice hushed, the teeth of worry beginning to sink into her gut and sending her muscles contracting.

you sniffle, mouth quivering, and she feels herself frown. god, you look so distressed, and at once, both betrayed and immensely sad. the complications of such an expression has her unnerved, and she tenses up, waiting for your answer.

"do you remember what time you said you'd be home, lee?"

immediately, it clicks, the memory of her call with you making its trail through her brain. in the footsteps, she remembers her words, promising to be home by 7:30PM. when she had just checked her watch, it was 10:28PM.

her eyes shift to the ground, shame coursing through her at the broken promise, fingers thrumming on her thigh as she tries to formulate a response -- anything, really, it just had to be the right response. you deserve that much. "I... I'm sorry. carter asked me to stay back, and I couldn't say no."

"well, did he also ask you to not call me?" you ask sarcastically, your words containing a bite that she isn't accustomed to receiving from you.

"no, he didn't," she answers truthfully, though part of her suspects your question was rhetorical. "that was my fault. it slipped my mind, that I had promised to be home early, that I should've called you." her voice lowers, thick with shame at her own irresponsibility. "I'm sorry."

your face softens, eyes drinking up the way she avoids your gaze, the way her voice sounds so small, losing the natural straightforwardness it usually possesses, and the movements of her hands clumsy, folding in on themselves. "I was just so worried, lee. you said that this guy you've been investigating has a violent history, and has made threats to the FBI. and I..." you breathe in shakily, fresh tears beginning to well in your eyes. "I was terrified something had happened. I tried to reassure myself, but I couldn't do it. everything in my head was panicked and was moving a mile a minute. all the possibilities of what could've happened to you felt even worse than just saying them out loud. and, and you didn't pick up."

she nods quietly to your words, wanting you to have the space to express what her actions caused. she knew you dealt with anxiety, and was well-aware of how her being an agent could impact that. yet, still, she managed to screw up. what is wrong with her? guilt latches onto her gut and tightens its grip, and she feels her fingers, slippery and clumsy, continuing to fiddle. "I understand. I'm really sorry, baby. I promise, it won't happen again." when she looks up at you, your lips part at the sight of her eyes sheen with tears, eyebrows scrunched together in determination. "it won't happen again. I'm sorry it did, though. I know the circumstances, and it was messed up for me to forget to call you again. and I'm just -- I'm sorry." she feels a tear slip down her cheek, and her hand flinches to wipe it away before deciding against it, not wanting to draw attention to it in case you missed the sight of it in the dim lighting. "I've just been so caught up in work, and this case, and just got lost in it today. and I was so tired, and carter asking me to help him was just so rushed that I didn't get to even think, and..." she falters, realizing she's rambling, trying desperately to explain herself and make this up to you. but, she knows no amount of excuses will ease your hurt. only her promise to do better will. "I'm sorry."

she swallows down the urge to cry, wanting to remain focused on you. but, you're quiet for so long, and the silence of the room causes anxiety to unfurl in her, the sudden feeling making her shift.

finally, in her peripheral vision, she sees you move, and tentatively looks up to find you sitting up in the bed, arms stretched out.

relief flushes through her, as welcome a feeling as a gust of wind on a humid summer day. she immediately walks towards you, sitting down on the edge of the bed and burying her face in your neck, arms clinging to you, desperate to feel your touch, your forgiveness. "baby, I..." her words catch on a broken breath, the urge to cry choking at her.

"I know," you whisper, hands combing through her hair. "I was just so scared. I tried to call, but you didn't pick up."

"I'm sorry," she says, voice muffled against your skin. "I was out with carter, but I should've told you." her arms tighten around you, and through that motion, you feel the guilt whirling inside her, the love threatening to spill from her lips.

"yeah, you should've," you say, pausing as a small sob bubbles up in your throat, tears beginning to leak as you remember the anxiety that had plagued you just minutes ago.

she hears it, immediately pulling away to watch you, mouth clamping shut, worry creasing her temple, as you start crying again. for a moment, she just watches you, devastation gnawing at her from seeing how pained you are. she should've done better, she knows that now, but the guilt is ceaseless. she never wants to cause you such worry, such hurt.

her arms wrap around your waist, long fingers drawing gentle circles into your back, as you weep into her chest, soaking through her dress shirt. she silently lets some of her own tears fall, paying no mind to them as she strokes your hair and quietly listens to your broken words and croaking hiccups, murmuring apologies into your hair, which still smells fresh from your shower.

"I-I'm sorry, too, for snapping," you gasp out through your sobs. "I was just scared and anxious, and it made me antsy and upset with you, but I know it was an accident. I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry."

something inside her softens at your apology, the earnestness of your words enough to comfort her. you taking a harsh tone with her always feels unfamiliar and unsettling, and to hear you take it back helps her more than she'd like to admit.

after you calm down, the hiccups slowly beginning to subside, she combs your hair back from your sweaty forehead and damp cheeks. her eyes, wide and earnest, explore yours and you nearly shrink under the intensity of the gaze. the feeling is moulded into a sweet longing when she presses her lips to your cheeks, softly kissing away your hot tears. "what can I do?" she whispers against your skin, her touch so light and delicate.

you shrug, voice still raspy from your cries. "just, stay with me. and, I don't know, can we hang out?"

her eyebrows draw together, face firm as she gives you a hard nod. "of course. I want to." she pauses, eyes glancing to your lap as she swallows. "you know that, right? I want to be here with you."

you nod, not trusting your voice. everyday, she eagerly greets you upon her arrival at home, and even on days when she's weary and drained, her head immediately lays in your lap, face nuzzling into your thigh. you know she wants time with you. despite her quietness, her actions show that. the way she almost always keeps her promises as to when she'll return, her consistent calls when at work, your long talks before bed. you know it.

she holds you for the rest of the night, turning on one of your comfort shows when you admit still feeling uneasy in spite of her return home. she makes each of you a cup of tea, bringing it to bed, and carefully placing it in your hands. she rubs your back, whispering gently, "I'm here, I'm home," (the words ease her as much as they do you, the comfort and safety of having someone to return home making her overcome with emotion and gratitude) pressing kisses to your brow. but, she doesn't rush you, she never does. she just stays near you, ready to wait however long needed, so long as it meant you could breathe easily.

when you both fall asleep that night, you immediately sink into a slumber, the exhaustion of the anxious night wearing you down. she watches you for a while, brushing her knuckles against your cheek, a protective urge surging through her to stay up in case you woke up, for she knows how difficult it can be for you to rest easy on such nights. but, as her eyes get heavy, she curls closer to you, her knees lifting in her usual fetal position of sleeping. your hand lays next to yours, and she cups them, quietly kissing your fingertips. when your eyes briefly flutter open, heavy-lidded and bleary, she smiles, her stomach feeling like it will burst at the sight. "wake me if you need anything, okay?"

you lazily grin, nodding into the pillow. "okay."

she pauses, eyes searching yours. "I love you, okay?"

"I love you too, lee."

with the quiet confession whispered and lost into the night, you both sleep, minds, at least momentarily, at ease from the assurance.

[justcallmefox89]

Gale and the Gith: Chapter Six - The Importance of Vegetables

X'aa'nath stands up for Astarion and opens up to Gale.

“Astarion, how is the rat diet going?”

Gale bites back a smirk at Wyll’s question.

Astarion pins the warlock with a long-suffering glare.  “It may soon come to an end if you don’t -”

A small, perfectly round thundercloud forms directly over Wyll, promptly dousing him with frigid rainwater.  Astarion sneers at Wyll, delicately skirting around the rapidly forming puddle on the ground as he saunters towards his tent.  Out of the corner of his eye Gale spots X’aa’nath sporting a self-satisfied smile.

“Was that truly necessary?” Wyll asks, stepping out from under the cloud and wiping the water from his face.

X’aa’nath flicks his wrist, conjuring a small gust of air that gently blows the raincloud back over Wyll.  “Leave the elf alone,” he says quietly, marching past the warlock without sparing him a glance.

Odd, the insistence he has on continuing to refer to Astarion as an elf, even though we all now know he is much more than that.

Gale shakes off that errant thought and offers Wyll a small smile.  “At least he didn’t threaten to kill you this time?”

“Thank Helm for small mercies,” the warlock replies, shaking his head.  Water droplets fly in every direction, spattering Gale and an unsuspecting Karlach.

“Oi!” the tiefling exclaims, surprised by the cold touch of the water that quickly turns to steam on her skin.

Wyll flashes her an apologetic smile before returning his attention to Gale.  “I didn’t realize he and Astarion had become… close.”

Gale frowns, uncomfortable with Wyll’s insinuating tone. 

“I don’t think it’s like that,” Karlach says before the wizard can formulate a response. 

The two men glance at each other, then back to her, waiting for her to elaborate.

“It’s just… Astarion’s the first one Soldier found after the nautiloid crashed.  I think he feels a little protective of him.”  She shrugs.  “Wyll being ‘the Blade of the Frontiers’ probably doesn’t help either.”

Wyll winces as he digs a dry shirt out of his pack.  “I didn’t make the best first impression on him, did I?”

“Storming into camp that first night and attempting to kill Karlach probably wasn’t the best way to win his friendship, no,” Gale acknowledges with a slight smile.  It had taken the whole camp, minus Astarion, several long, tension filled minutes to convince X’aa’nath not incinerate Wyll after he threatened Karlach.  It took the collective group another two hours to convince the stubborn gith to allow the tadpoled warlock to join their party.  Even now, several days and just as many battles later, X’aa’nath only acknowledges the man with hostiles glares and frighteningly aggressive gith noises.

“Ah.  Well, my father always did say that anything good is worth waiting for. Hopefully this proves true of our sorcerer’s friendship,” Wyll says with a good-natured smile.

Karlach chuckles and slaps Wyll on the back.  “Wouldn’t count on it.  He fucking hates you.  You should probably just be happy he hasn’t tried to kill you in your sleep.”

Gale tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle his laughter at Karlach’s remark and Wyll’s crestfallen expression.  “I’ll just go uh, check on him shall I?  Then I’ll start on our dinner.”

************************************************************

Snk.

I glare at the carrot in front of me as I chop it up, fuming and imagining the smug warlock’s stupid face as I do.

How dare he?  The elf may not be particularly brave, or even that intelligent, but that does not give that devil-bound pact chaser the right to mock him.

I toss another carrot on the cutting board.  Snk, snk, snk.  My dagger is moving fast, nearly as fast as my thoughts.

I tire of him.  Tonight after everyone else is asleep –

“Hello.”

“Tsk’va!”  Startled, I narrowly avoid slicing off the tip of my finger.

“Oh!  Oh good heavens!  Are you alright?” 

Gale’s voice sends my already tumultuous thoughts into further turmoil and my heartbeat treacherously quickens. 

“Hm.  I am fine.  Begone, wizard,” I snap, trying to shoo him away.

“Are you truly alright?  I didn’t mean to… what on earth are you doing?” Gale asking, taking in the large bowls filled with chopped vegetables sitting on the ground in front of me.

“I wished to stab the warlock, but you would have interfered.  So I stabbed the vegetables instead,” I reply, proud of my restraint.

“But why?”

“Did I not just explain this to you, istik?  I chopped the vegetables because you would have been displeased if I chopped the warlock into little bits.”

Gale settles down on the ground next to me with a small grunt.  “May I ask a few questions for clarification purposes?”

I scowl and roll my eyes, positioning another carrot on my cutting board.  “If you must.”

“Well, first, why are you so antagonistic towards Wyll?”

I pause my chopping and squint at him, certain I’ve misheard him.  “Is your memory poor because you are elderly or are you merely simple, istik?  Just because the rest of you are content to pretend that he wasn’t hunting Karlach mere days ago doesn’t mean that I am.”

Gale clenches his jaw in annoyance.  “My memory is flawless, and for your information thirty-six is nowhere near elderly in this plane.  Wyll was misled by Mizora and Karlach has forgiven him, don’t you think you should as well?”

I stare at him.  “So you are not elderly, but idiotic then?  Why do you all insist on placing such trust in someone who sold his soul for power?  Who obeys a devil’s commands without question?”

“He stood against Mizora to keep Karlach safe, and he’s paid the price for it,” the wizard says quietly.  “Surely that’s proof enough that he is a good man.”

“Did he do it out of the goodness of his heart or because Karlach had allies ready to skewer him if he so much as laid a hand on her?” I challenge.

“I choose to believe he did so because he knew it was the right thing to do.”

Stupid, stupid man.  Trusting in others is what gets you killed.

My chest tightens uncomfortably at the thought of Gale dying.  I frown, unsettled by the foreign feeling. 

“Is there something else that bothers you about Wyll?” Gale prods, taking advantage of my silence.

“He lied about his eye,” I mutter.

“I’m going to need you to expand on that statement.”

“He false eye is a sending stone.  I questioned him, and he denied it.  I am not stupid, Gale.  I know a sending stone when I see one.  And now that we know about Mizora, I assume it’s a leash of sorts so that she can keep close watch over him.” 

“In all fairness, Wyll doesn’t owe you any explanations about such personal things as his false eye,” Gale says reasonably.  “But I think that will be a subject that you and I shall have to agree to disagree on.  Is there anything else?”

I busy myself wiping down my dagger with a clean rag, refusing to meet his eyes.  I am aware that my third grievance is quite illogical, and as such, I am hesitant to give voice to it.  “I do not like the way he speaks to Astarion,” I finally mumble.

Gale sits quietly, allowing me to gather my thoughts.

“Astarion is not a creature, not… not some monster for him to hunt.  Astarion is one of us.”  I grip the fabric of my robe in my hands, clenching and unclenching my fists.  “I do not like it when Wyll speaks to him as if he is other.  As if he is less than because he is a vampire’s spawn. He is one of us. He belongs.”

My hands begin to cramp, my claws punching small holes in the thin fabric of my clothing.  I feel like I’ve been dunked under water; my blood roars in my ears and my breathing is rapid and shallow.  Large, warm hands settle over my own, and agile fingers gently disentangle my cramped fingers from my clothing.  Soft skin glides against my callouses, making me shiver as Gale silently hold my hands in his. 

He waits to speak until my breathing has calmed.  “It reminds you of where you were younger, doesn’t it?”

I glance up at him, startled.  “What did kin tell you?” I ask suspiciously.

“Enough,” Gale admits with a rueful smile.  “I don’t believe Wyll’s teasing is malicious, but I’ll speak to him about it.”

“Hm.”  I bow my head in thanks, unable to articulate the words while he still holds my hands in his.

“One last question, if you’ll indulge me?”

I nod.

“Why the vegetables?”

I stare at him, uncomprehending. 

“X’aa’nath, there are no less than four training dummies in this camp.  If you wanted to stab something other than Wyll you could have taken your frustration out on one of them.  Why the vegetables?”

“You’re making the evening meal,” I reply simply.

Gale nods.  “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“You always use vegetables when you make the evening meal,” I say slowly.

“You did this for me?”  Gale’s full lips tip up into a grin and a sudden urge to close the distance between us nearly overtakes me.

“What? No!”  I shake my head, my face rapidly heating up.  “It was a logical conclusion.  I was thinking about you and remembered you had mentioned you wished to prepare this evening’s meal.  You always use vegetables, ergo; I vented my frustration upon the unsuspecting produce and saved you the trouble of having to chop them.  You are welcome.”

“You were thinking of me?” Gale asks, his voice low and husky. 

Yes.  No.  Constantly.    

Realizing my inadvertent admission I quickly spring to my feet.  “I must go," I blurt out awkwardly.

**********************************************************

Gale watches X’aa’nath nearly sprint away to the safety of his tent, diving inside and out of Gale’s line of sight. 

I was thinking about you…

The gith’s words echo in his mind, sending a small thrill up his spine.

“I think of you too,” Gale murmurs softly. 

[bellaaldamas]

I just wanted to say, thank you and the other fans from this part of the GoW fandom.

In a place full of trolls and gamerbros who turn characters that they deem annoying into irredeemable, useless bitches (Freya, Angrboða) and characters they do like are reduced to either prize for someone (Thrúd, Sif and somehow, Freya again) or into their masculinity idol (Kratos, whom they only accept as the testosterone caricature godkiller and his development seen as creators turning him soft. This claim is at it's peak with Ragnarok, but it was there back in 2018 such as wanting Kratos to beat or even kill Atreus for "acting like a brat". What a horrible mindset!) - It's nice to have a side with people who are welcoming, creative and genuinely fun to interact with.

Your analyses - both fandom and in-game inputs - are a delight to read. They're beautifuly written, intelligent and well formulared, I always feel smarter after reading them.

Apologies if you prefer to discuss this in DMs, I wanted others to read this too.

I wish you a wonderful rest of your day/night 💛

Thank you so much for this message, this kind of feedback truly makes existing in this - and, admittedly, other fandoms - worth it. Your summary of my ramblings genuinely took me by surprise as I haven't been "conventionally" active in the fandom intentionally due to negative past experiences with other fandoms. Those occasional inputs I do come up with are mainly hastily written bursts in broken English.

I don't make a secret out of the fact that in my experience all fandoms, definitely not just Gow(R), are toxic to varying degrees due to trolls employing the very same tactic everywhere they go. For one, it's creating the illusion of dominance of their opinion in terms of quantity (as they have no arguments to back up their stance other than canon twisting nonsense they clearly realize that "quality" is not their strong suit). To attain that, they resort to a number of other tactics typically used by abusers both online and in real life.

As such, whenever trolls see intelligent and thoughtful people refuting their "points" they know they cannot come up with a single canon compliant rebuttal. Therefore they dog-pile in droves as to wear down the opponent who inevitably has to stop responding to them at some point. Because a logical person who dedicates time and thought to formulate an argument, fact checks and brings up evidence and quotes from the source material simply cannot withstand a wave of unhinged trolling coming at them left, right and center. They certainly cannot respond to each ridiculous one line statement of the trolls (such as the types of statements you bring up, in the vein of "Freya is a b1tch, she should've DyEd instead of He**d*all!!11!!") by typing out a thorough and researched response each time. As it would require not just spending hours on it but repeating themselves numerous times over.

The above behavior from trolls is what caused me personally a burnout from the fandom culture overall and led to my taking a distance. When I engage with people in online communities I tend to avoid blanket statements and try to always back up my points with examples from canon. Trolls don't need any of that and always dismiss those points or, at best, make it look like they acknowledge them (by quoting back). But instead of replying with canon facts they resort to Strawman Arguments or Ad Hominem.

In Gow(R) and other gaming fandoms there's also the matter of the trolls looking for "backup" in the form of big bloggers/reviewers who express, in some respects, a view of the plot and characters similar to them. Which trolls use as another "proof" their opinion is supposedly held by the majority. But the uncomfortable - for them and those reviewers - truth is that YouTube community (a cesspool of trolling as of now) represents hardly even 1 percentage of the general audience (one that pays actual money for the games). Which at most passively watches some of those videos, mainly when they have a click baiting title.

A prime example is that "viral" video with millions of views about Atreus supposedly "having a crush on Thrud". Looking at the comment section it becomes obvious that the people leaving humorous and lighthearted remarks don't take the video or the title statement seriously. Whereas the actual trolls who consider Atreus a "selfish little runt" (c) but somehow good enough to be a prize/reward for Thrud (whom they either sexualize or treat as their girlboss self insert); and who deny that Atreus and Angrboda is the only canon budding romance arc in the series are the same four or five people/nicknames. Who can be observed under other Atreus/Angrboda videos with their nonsense.

Furthermore, trolls actively participated in making the "Atreus and Thrud" piece viral in the comment section for at least one Atreus/Angrboda tribute video by mentioning the AT video and the amount of views it has. And openly insisting it somehow "proves that the fans want" Atreus and Thrud as a romantic arc for Atreus - the very same character they consider unworthy of being a secondary protagonist let alone becoming the main lead of the series or having his own spin off. But, as noted, they believe him to be acceptable enough to become a trophy man for their preferred girlboss.

That in turn brings us to another issue of male characters absolutely also being susceptible to objectification and being reduced to love interests and plot devices for female characters whom fandom minority treats as a part of their personal power fantasy. Atreus hating trolls originally didn't even deny they hated Angrboda "by association" with Atreus - thus even they initially admitted she was intended as his potential romantic partner by the narrative - because women to them are just men's extensions/accessories. But when they realized this argument makes it very easy to dismiss them for the bitter misogynists that they are they changed the tactic (also classic troll pattern) and started to distort canon in order to invent "arguments" to justify not just their Atreus hating but also their Angrboda hating stance.

To "warm up" they originally started calling Angrboda a "woke points character" which I cannot stress enough is utterly laughable when coming from Atreus/Thrud shippers. Because if there is a woke points or fan-service character in GowR it would be Thrud and Heimdall, respectively. They're the only ones who could be either removed entirely (Thrud) or replaced/have their screentime reduced to one or two scenes and the story would've been exactly the same. Thrud's Valkyrie aspirations have no influence on the plot whatsoever and are a complete filler. I'm saying this not because I dislike either of them but because it's an objective fact that smashes troll arguments flat.

Then there is the matter of the trolls being unable to stand the fact that interactions with Angrboda is Atreus's healthiest and most positive relationship in the story. It especially challenged them that Angrboda always valued Atreus's personal choices and didn't once question him (even when she disagreed with his train of action), his moral character or his right to take his own independent decisions (on the contrary, Thrud questioned his every move and deemed him untrustworthy the moment he made one, genuine mistake with Garm - and the trolls deemed it admirable because "finally someone put that little runt in place"; they don't actually ship Atreus and Thrud, they ship their own aggression and disdain towards Atreus projected onto Thrud).

Angrboda let Atreus exercise his agency (another troll nightmare as they cannot stand the very idea of Atreus having any) even when his actions went directly against her mother's words about the giant marbles or against the prophesy itself. That is, despite Angrboda considering the prophesy which killed both of her parents her lifeline. And believing that delivering said prophesy and the giant souls to Loki was her one and only mission in the existence full of loneliness (years of not speaking to another person, per Angrboda's own admission). As well as full of hard labor she had to engage in daily at a strikingly young age (purely out of love and sense of responsibility for every living thing in Ironwood) because there was no one around to help her (Atreus understandably expressed astonishment and admiration at that which Angrboda appreciated but - which is no less important - pointed out they're the same age; implying that she knows and acknowledges Atreus/Loki has gone through a lot himself and fared well). Even Angrboda's grandmother broke due to challenges that only made Angrboda more caring and compassionate.

Which is another point worth addressing about fandom culture because it tends to put down gentle and vulnerable girls and women as "unfeminist". Modern "feminism" has little to do with woman empowerment or rights and is a repackaged patriarchy that praises women/female characters as strong and independent only when they take the aggressor and conqueror mantle from a man.

Kratos fell a victim of a similar thinking on part of both the gamebro AND the "progressive" segment of the fandom. I realize Tumblr is not ready yet for that conversation, but masculinity is not inherently toxic and neither is femininity. What both gamebros and woke types cannot handle is that Kratos's development and Angrboda's character represent the type of masculinity and femininity, respectively, that isn't imposed on them by the sexist society but that is based completely on their free will and life experience. Moreover, Thrud is the one who was heavily influenced by the toxic environment she grew up in. Therefore considering her a "feminist icon" is both factually wrong and unwise (even if we discount her "treacherous ex wife" comment in regards to Freya because that was ALSO a part of Odin's toxic influence that she can now, hopefully, work through and move on from).

But the most delightful part is that none of those troll views and arguments have proven to matter at all. GowR developers went on to do literally every single thing trolls dreaded. Freya was not made into a "big bad b!tch who deserved to be killed by Kratos for being a less than perfect mother" (even though not only was Kratos the furthest thing from the father of the year in Gow18 but as you note, the very same people wouldn't object to physical violence against Atreus at his hands). Kratos continued to work towards healthier existence and carving a better path. Angrboda remained an emotionally mature, loving, caring and independent person with a potential of her relationship with Atreus going further in the following installments. Atreus is clearly set up to have his own spin off or remain a secondary protagonist or even become the main protagonist next game. That in and of itself is a prime example of how irrelevant trolls and their entitled demands are in the grand scheme of things.

That being said, as I always point out, we should keep in mind we cannot control media we consume, only our experience with it. A healthy emotional distance from it is the only way to avoid stress if/when the writers come up with decisions we might not like or find offensive. Mental well being should be our priority and media created by others should never define us.

Thank you again for this positive and inspiring message. Have a great and fulfilling time yourself <3

[genocidehim]

Ven conmigo (Nacho Varga x reader)

I don't know what this is, I wrote it yesterday at 3am and was feeling the need for something sad with that man.

notes: one-shot, angst. words: 710

Normally, you wouldn't receive his calls in the middle of the night during the week. Nacho knew you would be very tired during these hours and preferred to wait until the next morning or the weekend, but he decided to break his peace treaty against your sleep schedule and called you at two in the morning.

He babbled things on the phone and asked you to see him. In response to your tired reply, you invited him to your house and waited for it to not be anything problematic.

Now he was in your arms on the couch in your living room, so quiet that you could only hear his heavy breathing and the beating of your heart. He seemed much more tired than you and that was enough for you not to ask.

Both of you had a complicated relationship, nothing was formal and you knew perfectly well that he was involved in things that put him in constant danger, you knew that when you saw him injured more than once, but you didn't ask and he appreciated that. In some way, you were a breath of fresh air from all the crap he endured day in and day out, and he was good company for you after the monotony of the week. Although curiosity was eating away at you, you didn't want to ask. You just stayed silent, observing him while running your fingers over his smooth, bronzed skin, feeling his body heat on top of you. It was a beautiful sight from your perspective, how a man so big and robust could feel so small in your arms, and how his broad hands held your back with affection and a little bit of pressure.

Nacho's face was nestled in your neck, and you could feel his warm breath tickling you. If it were any other situation, you would be so hot that you could set your house on fire, but you didn't want to break the comfort that both of you had because of your lust.

"I'm sorry for waking you up so late..." his soft voice drowned in the hollow of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"Don't worry, it's Saturday tomorrow...well, today." You chuckled, and you could feel him smiling in response. Nacho tried to get up from his comfortable position, and although he remained in your arms, he looked at you with a certain melancholy that you could only find in his eyes. He looked sadder than usual today.

Before you could even formulate another word, his lips met yours, and you felt a certain need in them. Surprised, you held onto his biceps, and he took your face in his hands, feeling the warmth in the palm of his hands, which made you close your eyes. His lips moved eagerly, as if trying to take your entire mouth to savor it. He even felt too needy just before taking a step back to observe you for a few seconds while continuing to distribute short, small kisses before finishing.

"I need you to come with me..." "Go where?" you asked with confusion, unable to process everything that was happening clearly.

"Anywhere, irnos a donde sea…" and you could feel how his words felt sadder than usual, making your heart ache to see him so vulnerable. "If the time comes, I want to leave here with you and my father."

You didn't quite understand what he was asking for or why he suddenly seemed so anxious for an answer. You sensed it was only tiredness and desperation, as Nacho didn't usually talk like this or even hint that he needed you in this way, so you didn't want to make too much of it.

"If that time comes… I'll accompany you" you vaguely promised without much sincerity. Although the idea that he could see you at the same level of importance as his father made you happy, he was asking for something too impossible.

"Please..." he pleaded with that sad look that he only gave to you, and his long lashes fell until his eyes closed completely. Then he lay back on his shoulder and sighed tiredly.

A man so tough was lingering in your arms, and you didn't know what to do.

[blindmagdalena]

Well now i just wanna spend an hour or three teasing/riding homie to assure him that yes, he is my favorite, he’s everybody’s favorite

 18+ homelander x f!reader, comeplay, cunnilingus, lite sublander. When Homelander is feeling insecure, he has a gift for making it the problem of absolutely everyone in his radius, but none more so than you. What started as a harmless, playful conversation about which member of the Seven was your favorite quickly turned into pursed lips and irritated, sharp little huffs from him. Perhaps you took it a little too far. Now it's your responsibility to repair the damage done to his ego, and frankly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

"That's it," you encourage softly, straddling his naked waist, pumping his cock slow and easy in your fist. "You're doing so good for me. Look at you," you praise, smoothing his hair down with your free hand.

The last hour has been nothing but slow, exquisite torture, with gentle touches and fervent praise.

Homelander has both hands above his head, gripping the headboard firmly enough that the wood groans precariously under the pressure of his strength. He exhales roughly, hips giving a small jerk beneath you. "Now, say it for me. Who's my favorite?" You ask him, cupping the side of his face. "Me," he exhales roughly, licking his lips. He looks feverish like this, barely containing his need, barely keeping his strength in check. It's enough to make you feel like a god above him. "I am."

"Mmhm, of course you are. You're everyone's favorite. America's hero," you assure him, moving your palm over the head of his cock to spread the precome drooling from it down his length with a twist of your wrist. He keens so sweetly for you, your words and your voice soothing what had been burned.

You tighten your grip, and that's all it takes to wring a needy "Oh, fuck," from him, his brows furrowed tight, teeth bared. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was in pain. "Ssshhh, it's okay, my darling. It's okay. I'm going to make you feel so good. Can you tell me where you want to come, darling?" You ask, leaning over him, which presses the wet head of his cock against your stomach. "Inside? Or how about all over my chest? So long as you lick it up after."

Homelander looks stricken, lips opening and closing as he struggles to formulate any kind of thought. "C-chest," he manages to grit out, bucking up against you. "I hoped you would," you tell him, voice low. You sit back up, angling his cock towards yourself. "C'mon, darling. Mark me. Show me that I'm your favorite, too." You stroke him faster, moving your other hand from his face to your chest, letting him watch as you massage your breast, moaning gently. You can feel the way it makes his cock throb in your grasp, feel how insane it drives him in the thrum of his body beneath yours. He jerks his hips up hard enough that you almost lose your balance, and when they don't sink back down, you quickly realize he's halfway floating off the bed. You tighten your legs around him. There's a snap in the headboard when Homelander comes, a crack running cleanly through the line of it. He moans your name loud and broken, arching his back as he paints your chest in thick white ribbons, gasping his way through his release. It splatters all the way up to your chin. He drops back down onto the bed with a ragged breath, closing his eyes as he rides out the aftershocks, cock still twitching weakly in your grasp. "Good, that was so good, sweetheart," you coo, making sure your grip is loose, milking him slowly of his orgasm. "You came so much for me."

Homelander opens his bleary eyes at that. His pupils are blown black, his features soft with relief, but you see clearly the pang of hunger when he looks at you, especially at your chest. "Can I?" He asks softly, voice reedy, but thick with desire. You nod, and he eagerly accepts the permission, letting go of the headboard and lifting himself into a sitting position, both of his hands going to your ribs, pulling you in close. Eagerly, Homelander licks a line up between your breasts, tasting salt and sex and himself on your skin. It makes him moan low and throaty against you. You put your hands in his hair and sigh, tipping your head back. The sheer heat of his mouth erupts goosebumps on your skin, but it's the hungry way he sucks at you that really makes your core throb. Homelander cleans your skin diligently, laving his tongue over your breast before sucking it into his mouth, tonguing your nipple. He's in heaven like this, rumbling pleased little noises against your skin. You arch your back into the warmth of his mouth, encouraging him with the way you cradle his head to your chest. He nuzzles against your breast, sucking contentedly. He takes his time before moving to the opposite breast, and doing the same, holding you firmly while he licks and sucks you clean.

"Mm, feels so good," you say, dragging your nails down his scalp. "Look at you, cleaning me all up."

"Almost," he murmurs, voice sex-rough and low. Moving his hand down your body, he cups between your thighs, and presses his middle finger in deep with a soaked noise, drawing it back up to hold up between you.

It glistens with your slick just before he pops it into his mouth, holding your gaze, intent. His own eyes are glazed over, foggy with hunger. He draws his finger out with a pop, and repeats a familiar question: "Can I?" Heart racing with excitement and arousal in equal measure, you nod. "Anything for my favorite hero."

Homelander smiles, licking his lips preemptively as he lays back. He uses his strength to effortlessly slide you up his chest, further and further, until you're straddling his face. He doesn't waste any time before tasting you, massaging your thighs as he drags his tongue through the slick mess of your pussy. "Oh, fuck, baby," you give a shuddering sigh, grinding down against his tongue. You put your hands on the cracked headboard, breaths growing shallow as you start to rock your hips back and forth, using his mouth to your hearts content. He moans beneath you, smoothing his hands up to your hips and then back down your thighs. He cups your ass and squeezes, encouraging you even more, reminding you that you needn't be delicate. You can't hurt him, you can't smother him. He's wholly yours, to do with as you please, and he wants it.

You drop one hand down into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it, losing yourself completely in the shameless, sloppy wet way he devours you. You exhale roughly, pressing your forehead to the headboard, the cool wood a relief against the sweat prickling on your skin.

The pleasure swells and swells until finally you feel it blossom into release, the euphoria of it rolling through your entire body. You pull his hair hard, thighs clenching on either side of his head as you moan through your release. Homelander doesn't skip a beat, doesn't pause for a moment. He's voracious, spurred on by your orgasm instead of satisfied by it. Your breath catches when he just nuzzles in more eagerly, shaking his head side to side, his tongue flat and firm against your clit.

"Th-that's good," you say, giving his hair a tug, but he pays you no mind. He sucks at your clit, slides his tongue from your entrance back to the throbbing nub.

He's insatiable, eating you out loud and messy. You're always aware that the control you have over him is an illusion, only ever as real as he allows it to be, but nothing makes that clearer than the strength of his grip as he holds you in place, devouring his fill.

He's going to make sure you never forget who your favorite hero is ever again.

Your second orgasm steals the breath from your lungs, has you doubled over against the headboard, held up only by Homelander's hands on your hips.

Sitting up, Homelander walks his hands up your body, easing you back down until your bodies are flush, your head on his chest. You're still catching your breath, the aftermath of your back to back orgasms still rolling through your body. "Naughty boy," you finally manage to say, heaving a satisfied sigh.

Homelander wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking every bit the cat that got the cream. "Shouldn't taste so fuckin good, then," he says, drawing the covers up over your bodies. Of course he would make it your fault. You hum incredulously, but find you don't have the brain space for much more than that, nuzzling into the crook of his neck with a lazy, blissed out little smile.

"You were wonderful," you murmur, brushing your lips just below his ear. You feel a lingering tension in his body melt away, knowing that he had been waiting for you to praise him. "Made me feel so good."

He kisses the top of your head, resting his cheek there afterwards, arms wrapped snugly around you. "Tell me you love me," he prompts quietly, stroking your arm. "I love you," you assure him, sliding your arms around him in return. "So very, very much." Homelander smiles, exhaling a soft, warm breath across the crown of your head. He'll have to goad you into teasing him more often. He likes it when you make it up to him.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

What if Spider reported to Norm that Fike and Quaritch were in contact and a meeting took place?

Part 1 and part 2

I don’t think Spider would rat on Fike just because he doesn’t want his kids to end up like him. If he told Norm he’d tell him that his dad approached him at school and tried to have a conversation with him. Norm would move him immediately. I can see this going two ways.

The first way: Quaritch has already started the process of regaining custody and decides that that’s still the best course of action. Spider telling on him is definitely a bump in the road but Quaritch’s lawyer spins it saying (honestly actually) that Quaritch had no idea his son was there and went over with the intent of having dinner with his friend and nothing more. Fike would claim that he had no idea Spider was Quaritch’s son due to Spider’s last name not matching his father’s. The counter argument would of course be that Socorro was Paz’s maiden name and Fike knew her before she was married so how did you not put two and two together. Fike would just shrug and claim that he just hadn’t. Maybe they’d even pay off the judge

But the other option more in line with cabin: Fike can tell that Spider wants to get away. The kid has asked to borrow a phone and because he couldn’t say why Fike didn’t let him figuring he wanted to call his social worker. So Fike hides the phones away but first he calls Quaritch to formulate a plan. Quaritch is upset to hear it but he can’t let this opportunity go. He wanted the cabin to be more along- the structure is built and he’s gotten the garden started but he still needs to get a lot of furniture built, get the basement stocked with everything they might need and then get anything else he can’t carry airlifted in by one of his teammates - but the timing is to good to pass up on. So Fike tells Spider that he wants to take him shopping. Spider doesn’t think a thing of it. It’s not uncommon for a new foster family to want to buy him a new toy or a few new pieces of clothing. Fike drives for twenty minutes which does seem strange but Fike said he’s taking him to the good mall in the richer county. But when they get to the mall it looks abandoned. Theres only one car in the whole parking lot. They park right next to it. Spider starts panicking when he sees his father in the driver seat. “What’s going on,” he asks as Fike and Quaritch get out of their cars. He doesn’t get a response.

Fike opens the door to the passenger seat looking at least a little sad over the situation, “come on kid.” But Spider doesn’t. Instead he scrambles to get out the driver side door.

His father grabs him around the middle, “easy tiger. It’s alright….”

“Help!” Spider screams despite seeing what a ghost town the area is. “Somebody help me!”

(I know in my last post i gave an age range of 10-12 for Spider in this au so now I’m just going to pick the middle) Quaritch has no trouble prying his 11 year old out of the car. Spider might be tall for his age but he’s still really little and scrawny. For Quaritch the kid is like nothing. He wrestles his son into the backseat of his car as he kicks and screams. Quaritch gives him a little something to keep him calm but not knock him out, thanks Fike for everything then speeds off. Fike goes to the mall closer to home and makes a show of looking for his “missing” child. Manks volunteered to be a mall cop for a day and is in the office where he “accidentally” destroys the security footage for the day. After hours Fike calls the police claiming that his foster son has run away. He planted “evidence” in Spider’s room that would corroborate that story. A kidnapping is barely considered.

Meanwhile Spider is on the road trip from hell. He’s all loopy, the scenery going by in a blur. His dad is talking to him but the words are gibberish. Maybe he’s talking too? Or drooling? He can’t really tell until the drugs start to wear off. “Where are we going,” he asks when he can finally speak without slurring his words. His limbs still feel heavy and he’s super tired.

“Home,” Quaritch says simply. “Now you listen up. I’m your father and i love you very much. All i want is what’s best for y’a. I believe you’ll see that being with me is better than being kicked around the foster system. You’re just used to that right now. I’ll show y’a how good life will be with your family….”

“I’ll scream. I’ll run away as soon as i can…”

His dad laughs, “oh I’m sure you’ll try. But i will tan your hide if you step out of line, understood.” Spider hisses at him. Quaritch shakes his head, “you’ll learn.”

Spider is sat in the middle of the backseat with some kind of bright red child lock on the buckle of his seatbelt. He can’t reach the windows to bang on the glass in the hopes that someone will see him. No doubt the doors are child locked too. “Let me out!” Spider shouts, “let me out, let me out, let me out!” His dad just turns up the music. Spider screams himself horse trying to break the man but it doesn’t work. When his throat starts to ack painfully he finally quiets.

Quaritch turns down the music then holds out a bottle of water to him, “thirsty?” Spider glares as he swipes the bottle from his hand. His dad chuckles as he watches him drink. After about twenty minutes of silence Quaritch asks, “can we talk?”Spider’s throat feels swollen so he’s pretty sure he can’t talk so he simply glares. “Come on kid, you can’t tell me this isn’t for the best. I’ve been checkin’ in on you for years so I know you haven’t always had good foster placements. They never cared for y’a. But I love y’a! You’re my boy and I’d do anything for y’a. I know you’ve been told I’m dangerous and that this all probably doesn’t change that. But hear me out. I went to prison for taking revenge on your mama’s killer. I beat him within an inch of his life. But I didn’t kill him! He woke up from his coma and now he’s a middle manager at his daddy’s company. He’s doin’ just fine but I lost everything! I lost my wife, my freedom and most important I lost you. And then I did everything the courts told me to do to get y’a back. But the courts were corrupt! They let your mama’s killer get off with community service. They kept you away from me! In what world do you keep a loving father away from his child! That’s why I couldn’t trust it again. But I had to get y’a back. All I want is what’s best for y’a. I’ll break every law in the book for that.”

The account gives Spider a lot to think about. He can see his father’s point of view. He’s happy his mom was avenged but it’s also terrifying thinking of his father nearly killing a man with his bare hands. The fact that his mom’s killer didn’t get life in prison boils his blood and definitely makes him believe the courts are corrupt. Maybe they were wrong to take him away from his dad. Maybe his dad is just trying to save him from a life in the system.

They pass state lines. He’s not really sure how far away Missouri is from D.C but he’s sure it’s far. “We’re coming up on a rest stop. Y’a need to use the bathroom?” Spider just nods too stunned by the distance they’ve traveled to respond.

They pull off at a gas station. Quaritch refuels the car leaving Spider locked inside. Once he’s done he slides into the backseat next to Spider. “What’cha thinking tiger. Y’a want to stay with papa?”

Spider bites his lip to stop it from trembling and shakes his head no, “you’re scary.”

Quaritch sadly pats his shoulder, “I don’t have to be. Now we’re going to go inside. If you’re good I won’t have to be scary. But if you’re bad and try to tell any of the nice people inside what’s going on, well then, I might have to show y’a what I did to your mama’s killer.” Spider turned white as a ghost. “So y’a gonna be good?” He weakly nods. His dad smiles and undoes the child lock on his seatbelt. When Spider steps out of the car Quaritch smiles and holds out his hand for him to take. Spider looks around at all the people, the mom with her kids refueling their van. The many different adults getting gas on their way home from work. Could his dad hurt all of them? Spider couldn’t let him hurt any of them. So he takes his dad’s hand.

First they use the restroom Spider in a stall, Quaritch the urinal so he can block any escape attempt. As soon as their hands are washed and dried Quaritch grabs Spider’s hand again. Spider hangs his head as he’s led around the connivence store. He’s gotten lucky with his last few foster placement who had respected it when he’d said he was growing his hair out. Now it was just long enough to hide his face and he was so thankful for it. He didn’t want anyone to see him and possibly give his father a reason to hurt them. “Do you want any snacks?” Spider stays quiet. His dad picks out a few bags of chips and some beef jerky. “How about some candy?” Quaritch gently tucks some of Spider’s hair behind his ear, taking away his hiding place. He picks out some sour skittles just to keep him happy. “And how about a hotdog? Or do y’a want a corn dog instead?”

“Corn dog,” Spider mumbled

“What was that?”

“A corn dog please.”

His father smiles, stroking his hair. “You got it kiddo.”

They get to the register where Quaritch pays for everything plus the gas in cash. The young cashier gives Spider a sympathetic smile. “Aw what’s the matter sweetie,” she asks.

Spider looks at her like a deer in the headlights. He can’t think of a lie and so instead he shyly hides behind his dad. Quaritch gives him a sad smile dropping his hand only to pull him into a side hug and rub his shoulder. “He’s having a bad day,” Quaritch says, “he lost his soccer game this morning and he’s still really upset.”

“Aw, it’s okay! You’ll get’em next time.” Spider refuses to look at her but she doesn’t give up. “What’s your name?”

Spider startles looking up to his dad for an answer. “Go on. Tell this nice young lady your name.”

That instantly makes him know exactly what answer his dad is wanting. “Miles,” he says reluctantly.

“Well Miles,” she reaches into a freezer off to the side of the counter pulling out an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate, “here’s a treat. Everything will get better soon.”

“What do you say son.”

“Thank you,” it’s taking everything in him not to cry.

But once they’re back on the highway Spider finally breaks down. He never allows himself to cry but now he just can’t help it. He’s sobbing, hyperventilating, tears and snot pouring down his face. He doesn’t realize when Quaritch pulls over. Suddenly he’s wrapped up in his dad’s arm, being rocked and shushed as circles are rubbed into his back. “You’re okay. Ssshhh, you’re okay. You did such a good job. Good boy. You’re my good boy.” Spider cries until there’s nothing left in him. He lays his limp head down, feeling absolutely dead inside. He’s a monster. A total psycho. How the hell am I going to get away from him. 

I’ll end it there but I totally have more ideas if you’re interested. Thanks again for reaching out! I always love hearing from people 💞

[tinyascanbe]

Introducing my g/t story

Beetle Shells

its based on actual entomology work ive done as a scientist, very self indulgent! TW: Cursing, light nudity, light blood, bugs (non aggro bugs)

Chapter 1: Introduction

I took quick and long strides down the sterile white hallway. At the end of the hallway were double doors tinted a dark black with yellow and red warning plates on the side. Reaching the end of the hallway and approaching a set of lockers, I instinctively reach for one marked with pink duct tape. Sighing, I shed my coat and donned a fresh laboratory coat along with medical boot covers. I tied my hair back into a messy bun of curls and finished up by secured the boot covers and buttoning up the coat. Beep beep beep beep! I stepped through the first door after punching in a personalized unique code. It was completely dark except for the UV light and stepped onto a sticky white pad. I heard the familiar hissing and allowed the cold air shower to blow onto my face and body before the stream dissipated. Lights automatically turned on and she then entered the quarantine lab. The quarantine lab was divided into four sections with one of the chemist labs right at the entrance.

“Heya Kyle. Any lucky today?” I approached the other scientist, peering around his shoulders at the beetle he was dissecting.

“Eh yknow, still having a hard time replicating the pheromones of this particular species. Still no preference or response to any of my solutions. The boss is pressuring me to get one ready in preparation for a public meeting with the state. Theres some big money involved with this research and the public havent been responsive. These invasive lil guys sure are causing me to lose sleep.” His face is creased with stress as he talks about it and he drops his tools in frustration.

“Yeah…they sure are cute lil guys. Imagine when you finally formulate it though! Theyll want to be all over you. Then your army of beetle lovers can eat the public opinion!” I laugh and pick up an analytical jar filled with peat and watch as the horned beetle emerges to munch on some sugarcane.

“Also hey how many do we have in inventory?” I inquire.

“Uhhh probably around 400 individuals over 5 generations. Sixth generation is scheduled to emerge in a few days now.” He answers, still not looking up at me. I admire his brown sleek hair, shining under the fluorescent lighting. I usually made excuses to talk to him throughout the day.

“Wow I wonder how much room we have left in here, we’re packed full. Well I have to work for about 3 hours with the longhorns so Ill come check in later to see if I can assist you.” Striding off, I walk through a hallway and enter a large metal door with a large latch.

I come into an enclosed refrigerated room and curse my luck on being stuck here. Its all plated metal with a chrome shelving unit on wheels and a long black table that stood about waist height. Plopping down on the black top swivel stool, i reach up for my clipboard, a binder, and mechanical pencil. Flipping open the binder, I scan the list of insects to be tested and pull out a form from another tabbed section. I flip open my airpod case and connect to my phones spotify playlist and walk out of the refrigerated hell to go grab my lil buddies that I get to hang out with for awhile. The insect species are separated by room so I dance over to the longhorn beetle room down the hall. The walls are lined with cups full of insect food and individual insects in each container. Buckets of different types of plants for feeding and a few carts along with another black table in the center of the room, fairly messy with forceps and papers were scattered about. The containers were marked with a gender sticker and had assigned genealogy tracking numbers. Sometimes Id mark a little heart on their containers if I was particularly fond of one of the individuals.

Dancing over and grabbing the cart, I stack male beetles and referencing my clipboard every so often. I scooted them all carefully back into my refrigerated testing room while grooving a bit to the music. I grabbed my favorite stick from the shelving unit and popped the top of the container to LB-08924 and was greeted by shaking and hissing.

“Oh nope. How bout you calm down there young man. Ill give you a few more minutes.” And grab another container for a second try.

On the table is a glass Y tube. Theres one small air hose connected to one side with the vaporized pheromone that the lab created and one small air hose connected to the other side with regular air. I get the next individual onto the stick and gently transfer them to the entrance to the tube and start a timer. The little antennas move a bit and stays in place. Waiting for the male to make a decision, I scribble in quick notes and information out on my form. Finally after 3 long minutes the male decides to walk down the tube towards our lab solution. I detach the air hose and gently pinch the lil guy to pull him out with a gloved hand. With a rather ungraceful plop, the male is dropped back into the container and the lid snapped shut.

Three hours go by and Ive listened to a whole Phish album and a podcast. I push a fallen curl behind my ear and straighten my posture, flipping through my reports to make sure I didnt miss any information.

Id been looking forward to taking a break and talking to Kyle again and the thought made me smile a bit to myself. I replace all my test subjects back to their respectful places, pop out my earbuds, and walk down the long hallway back to the main chemist lab.

“Kyle! Still hard at work I see. Im finished up with my beetles, need me to try and take a crack at yours?” I call out, seeing him in the same exact position as before. But this time, he actually turns to meet my green eyes with his darker gaze.

“Actually…yeah. The boss just fuckin yelled at me again to hurry this up. He doesnt understand that I cant rush this and once it is formulated, we have a long QC process ahead of us… Test this for me will you?”

“Yeah, anything for you. Give me a couple minutes to warm up first. Sample size?”

“Lets do 50 individuals. Using a spoon is your best bet to dig em out of the peat. Thanks, Clementine.” He holds out a vial to me and i take it, flashing him a smile and receiving one back.

I take the vial and slip it into my lab pocket readying a new cart of the new much larger rhinoceros male beetles. I struggle to balance their glass containers on the cart and right as I attempt to move the cart into the doorway of the testing room, the cart wobbles and causes the glass jars with the beetles to fall. Lunging to save the falling beetles, I trip in the process, breaking the vial and causing the glass to puncture through my jacket and shirt into my side. I land on other glass and thankfully none of the beetles.

“FUCK. ME.” I hiss and to my dismay I hear footsteps running over to me.

“Dude this didnt happen, lets not file an OSHA report and shit you know how much paperwork that is. Its my fault I shouldnt have tried to bring in that many bugs. I’ll take care of it all seriously Im fine. Im so sorry for breaking your vial I know that took you a long time..” I couldnt stop talking. Nevermind as fast as I was. I felt so embarrassed by the whole thing and wished I was alone. Kyle was staring at me with saucer eyes as if I ended the world by smashing his creation and I felt so badly about not being more careful.

“Uh Clementine… are you…. are you ok..? What the fuck…?”

I look down and see blood… but the blood stains look huge…but so does the lab coat itself…fuck I dont feel good. Woah all the beetles are surrounding me. The ones on the walls all surfaced from their peat. What the fuck….

Everything was in slow motion. I couldnt think straight and I felt like I was floating on hard drugs.

I realize Im craning my head up at Kyle with panic in my eyes.

“What was in the vial?” I slowly struggle to ask?

“Nothing that would cause this?? Its impossible. Maybe a dream??” He looks down at her with matching panic, hands shaking and staring down in fear as he appeared larger and larger to my now slumped body.

Ten or so beetles had finally began to crawl on me as I reached the height of the waist high table. Fear gripped me in the uncertainty but I realized I could barely stand from the overwhelming dizziness and weakness that overtook me. I was no taller than the waist high table and I collapsed to the ground causing two beetles to jump off.

“Help, please” desperation soaked my voice as their barbed legs gripped into my skin and my height still diminishing.

Kyles eyes darted and he finally began snatching the beetles off me and placing them in the labs emergency bug net. His huge hands approaching me caused my heart to race faster with fear. Holding the net of angry buzzing beetles, he turned and ran to secure them, leaving me. I had no idea how tall I was at this point, just that I was probably under 1’ by the look of things. I began to drag myself towards the bottom of the cart to try and hide underneath. There was no where else to hide and I couldnt trust a scientist, no matter how cute. The loud sound of footsteps coming back pumped fear through me and I realized I wouldnt be able to hide in time.

“Oh fuck youre so much smaller now…are you still shrinking?! Wait hey stop its ok theres no more beetles. All the insects are all locked up.” Kyle pushed the cart to expose the top half of me that had dragged myself under and squatted down in front of me.

“Uh sorry it took me a minute to process everything before helping you. I have no fucking idea whats happening but I feel responsible for giving you that vial. Im going to….pick you up now. Theres a lot of glass on the floor. Youre like 4 inches right now and I think you stopped shrinking.”

I watch, laid out on my side, bleeding in various places as he reaches both hands out in front of him, tilting his head as he considered how to exactly pick me up. I swallow as the hands approach. He uses his pointer finger to roll me onto the palm of his other hand. I puke in my mouth as he slowly raises me up to his gaze. His eyes are massive now, huge glossy orbs of color right in front of me. Exposing me. I had never felt so naked before and I shyly move my hands to cover myself despite my naked body already touching his warm palm. Averting my eyes, I hold back tears and feel absolutely out of control of reality.

“Ive got you, dont worry. I’ve got you.” He whispered quietly.

“We’ve gotta go though. We need to address your wounds first and foremost. Youre coming back with me.” Taking control of the situation, Kyles voice filled with more confidence.

“We gotta put you down first though so I can clean this up to prevent any suspicion. Im gonna lay you on the table now. Ill grab your shirt so you dont get cold. Youre shaking…i think.”

I couldnt speak. I didnt know what to say. I nodded weakly at the massive being and the nausea hit again as he lowered his hands and moved to the table. Using two fingers, he gently pushed me off his palm and I rolled onto the cold metal. In that moment I felt like a rag-doll specimen. He quickly plucked my bra from my shirt and brought the shirt up and wrapped me in it. My shivered chattering began to quiet and I soon found myself asleep to the sounds of him cleaning up broken glass.