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duskamethyst · 4 years

Text

broken reverie.

a/n: he’s not wearing glasses in this one.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, college AU

warnings: taboo rs, slapping, spanking, choking, face fucking, brat taming (kind of), slight degradation, creampie, age gap (nanami reaching 40)

pairing: professor!nanami x f!reader

summary: professor nanami calls you to his office to ‘talk’ about your terrible performance in his class.

maybe you went too far.

or else you wouldn’t have ended up in his office.

but is this the outcome you coveted? yes.

the door creaks behind you before it closes again as you sit and wait in front of the big wooden desk. you were kind of excited when he told you to come and see him at his office earlier but now you’re having a whirlwind of emotions making your stomach churn and you don’t dare to look around to face him– even though he’s going to be sitting in front of you in a moment.

his shoes clack against the floor as he strides and sits on his chair. the air in the room feels dense when the male doesn’t say anything; as if you’re not in his presence to begin with.

he looks exasperated. a long, deep breath is emitted through his nostrils as he loosens up his tie from the collar. you only gawk at him in awe as he does so, but quickly snap out when he finally shifts his gaze at you.

“so, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he finally breaks the silence. the deep, husky tone of his voice fills your ear and you hope he doesn’t notice your thighs press against each other almost immediately.

“tell you.. what?” you mentally slap yourself. you’re clearly aware of what he’s insinuating but you’re suddenly lost for words. there’s a huge difference between seeing him in class and being alone together with him. it’s even more nerve wrecking than you imagined and oh god, is his ac broken? because it suddenly feels hot.

nanami raises a brow, evidently unamused. “i had the courtesy to make time for you when i should be having brunch now so i don’t appreciate you playing coy.”

you gulp audibly, “i’m sorry, sir.”

“if it’s not clear to you yet, i’m talking about your grades.” he opens the drawer under his desk and pulls out a pile of paper before slamming it in front of you. you blink in surprise and flip through the pages, though you know you don’t need to see it when you already know what lies on them. there are a lot of red circles on the papers, namely yours, with huge unpleasant numbers on the corner ranging from 12% to 25%.

then he takes out another file which you realize as your student record throughout your semester and the subjects you currently take.

“i find it odd that you scored well for your other courses.” he skims through the pages. “you certainly didn’t cheat, i can tell.”

“no, of course not.”

“then, what’s the problem here?” his tired eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer or come up with whatever excuse.

“well, i–”

“you’re doing it on purpose.” he snaps.

it’s as if time comes to a stop. your cheeks heat up with humiliation and you can’t bring yourself to continue to look at him in the eyes. although you’re aware that your silence means compliance, you’re still jumbling up words in your head to deny his assumption.

“are you going to tell me i’m wrong?”

“yes– i-i mean–” you stammer.

“then enlighten me.” he glances at the branded watch donned on his left wrist. “we have time.”

you shake your head, “i have another class soon.”

“skip it.” he quickly retorts. “i’m sure you have no problems with that. your grades are doing well for that one, but certainly not mine.”

sweat starts to form on your palms as you look down on your thighs, purposely avoiding his eyes that hold nothing but so much intensity. you’re weighing between two options; to keep on bluffing or come clean. you don’t think that nanami would let you get off the hook if you keep on lying and you’d definitely be bombarded with more questions, yet the outcome of the latter would be so embarrassing and you don’t know if you can live it down for the rest of the semester.

you’ve fantasized about being alone with him but.. not particularly this way.

gathering courage and taking a deep breath, you decide it’s best to just tell him the truth.

“you’re right,” you feel your ears burning, hands clammy. “i purposely failed your class.”

lifting up your head, you see the male grinning lopsidedly in his seat. maybe he’s pleased that you’re not wasting his time anymore, you’re not sure, he’s not easy to read.

“wasn’t that easy?” he folds his arms in front of his chest. “i have my own speculation but i wanna hear why you did it.”

“um,” you look down to your hands again, also half wondering what kind of bold assumption he has in mind. “i was dared by my friend.”

“wrong,” he scoffs. “and look at me while you’re talking.”

you sigh defeatedly and nervously fix your gaze. if you’ve learned one thing now, it’s that your professor doesn’t have tolerance for bullshit and he knows one when he hears one.

“i-i did it for.. attention.”

“my attention?” he emphasizes, maintaining his stoic persona to mask his amusement of finding out that his speculation turns out to be indeed true.

you purse your lips in a thin line, nodding your head quietly. nanami remains to stare at you as he ponders in silence. you can hear your heart beating rapidly in your ears and you want to break eye contact so badly but you’re certain it wouldn’t be wise.

“all that, just for a crumb of my attention?” he spits with a hint of venom in his voice. “are you happy with what you did?”

well, you’ve imagined him punishing you on his desk, fuck you raw or spank you with his belt until your ass turns red– not some serious interrogation.

“no, sir.”

nanami props his elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin to keep his head up. the air around him becomes even more threatening but it somehow manages you to feel even more aroused, making your toes curl in your shoes. you definitely need to get out soon.

“you know, if i have even one student failing my class, i could get into trouble and be questioned for my performance.” he starts. “to have you doing that for your own selfish incentive is unacceptable, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble with meek.

“besides that, you might have to retake this course again for your next semester and it’ll waste your time– or..?”

you stay silent to let him continue.

“or you were intending to be in my class again so you can see me?”

“y-yes.” you bashfully admit after one silent moment, knowing that lying will take you nowhere. “i’m sorry, sir.”

nanami chuckles, finding your naivety to be rather entertaining. never has he ever met a student like you, outwardly expressing their interest in him by failing their paper. he’s not too sure what you’re trying to get out of him but maybe he can put one and one together. it’s pretty common that younger women have an attraction to older men like him and your classmates are.. well, not exactly the best looking either.

“are you?” he smirks cynically. “do you have any idea how many students i have to monitor? how tiring my job can be?”

“yes. it was inconsiderate of me. i’m sor–”

“show me.” nanami cuts you off and leans back on his chair. maybe he can push you a little bit, he thinks. you owe him this anyway.

you blink, perplexed. “what?”

“you kept saying sorry.” he undoes two of the buttons on his blue dress shirt and spreads his legs apart. “talk is cheap. show me.”

you do a double take as he taps his thigh and waits for you to come over. you have the faintest idea of what he’s implying but your body freezes and your brain short-circuits as if paralyzed.

“you chose to lie again? you’re not really sorry, are you?”

“no, no! that’s not it. i just..”

an ongoing battle takes place in your mind– sure that this is a part of your deepest, darkest fantasy yet you’re just baffled over how quick nanami catches on to it. now that your debaucherous dream has become a vivid reality, you don’t know which is the right step to take.

“but if not now, when?” a soft voice in your head whispers. if desire could embody a voice, you think this is it. gentle, yet seductive as if it attempts to give you a push to pluck and have a taste of the forbidden fruit.

“how much longer do you have to touch yourself to the thoughts of your professor before you go to bed?”

“although this could be a one time thing, at least you’d know how it feels like.”

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way towards him. nanami’s eyes trail up at you, down to the floor then back up at you; gesturing you to get on your knees.

you settle between his thick thighs and look up at him timidly through your lashes before you bring your hands to undo his belt.

“no hands.” he quickly demands.

you lick your lips as you figure the structure of the belt and how you’re going to take it off without the aid of your hands. the taste of cold metal and leather instantly invades your palate as you feebly use your teeth to tug the front loop of his belt. your head shifts awkwardly side to side until you finally get to catch the buckle between your teeth, pulling it hard before the belt soon unfastens.

nanami only observes you indifferently from above, yet the large tent in front of you doesn’t conceal the excitement he currently possesses.

you take a deep breath before you continue on succeeding your quest. you twist your neck as you find and tug on the fabric loop that holds the button.

“i know you’re a smart girl.” he praises as he rests his hand on top of your head while you struggle to lift up the zipper with your tongue and grasp it between your teeth. the simple praise inflates your confidence and you become more eager to complete your task so you can claim your awaiting prize.

with valiantness, you finally lock eyes with him as you pull down his zipper completely to reveal the huge bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs and the tip slightly poking out from the top.

“hm? you still have to take it out, no?” he smirks as he notices you gape at the outline of his cock.

you quickly pull yourself together and lean back up to the stretchy band on his waist. he hisses when he feels your tongue purposely graze against the flushed tip before you pull down the briefs by force to reveal the one thing you’ve been desiring for so long.

you press your thighs together as a dull ache forms in your core from the sight of his thick cock standing proudly in front of you. it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined– it’s better and you’ve finally found it worth going through all that trouble of failing his class (and using your mouth to take off his pants).

“this is what you want, isn’t it?” he sneers, titling up your chin with his fingers, brushing your lips with his thumb and pulling the bottom lip apart so he can see a row of teeth.

“y-yes, sir.” you gulp and breathe as you wait for his next command.

nanami’s lips tug into a conceited smirk, “suck.”

leaning down your head to the base, you flatten your tongue underneath the shaft and slowly drag upwards in favor of reveling the veins on his hard cock. nanami lets out a sigh of content when he feels your tongue licking his tip and his hand tugs on your locks by reflex. you look at him as you wrap your lips around the tip, slobbering the tip with your saliva and his precum.

“fuck.” he curses under his breath and his head falls back when the warmth of your mouth finally engulfs his throbbing cock as you take most of the length inside your mouth.

you hollow your cheeks together, head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take more of his cock that you nearly choke whenever the tip hits the back of your throat, but the hand on top of your head grabs a fistful of your hair and he pushes your head down to sink all his length inside your mouth deeper. when you want to pull away, he only holds you in place and remains his cock down your throat.

“through your nose.” he mutters. tears start to well in your eyes while your saliva just trickles down to his balls as he screws his eyes shut and relishes in the pleasure that washes throughout his body. “i needed this so bad, you know?”

your whines only give him more stimulation and his hips jerk in response, “just wouldn’t think that a student– fuck– out of all people would choke on my dick.” he lets out a sardonic chuckle as if something just crossed his mind. “it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so good, isn’t it?”

nanami keeps you in the position as he ruts his hips slowly into your throat. his eyes are closed in concentration and his lips part slightly in fast and short pants. you work on your gag reflex as you let him fuck your mouth, enduring the sharp sting on your scalp when he tugs your hair harder– at least you know you’re making him feel good.

“if i cum in your mouth, you’d gladly swallow, won’t you?”

you can feel his cock twitching when you let out a choke of assent from your throat but you splutter as soon as nanami abruptly pulls away his cock because of a sudden knock on the door that startles the both of you.

“get under the desk.” he urges and you quickly crawl to hide while he coughs and inches closer to his desk. “come in.”

you hear the door open followed by echoes of footsteps before it comes to a halt in front of his desk.

“didn’t i tell you to contact me before seeing me?” his voice is laced with irritation yet collected as he speaks. you can imagine the agitated look on his face, thinking it would be only natural for anyone to assume that he’s already having a bad day. and to them, interrupting the peak of his orgasm is most definitely not it.

without a second thought, you take back his dick inside your mouth. a spur of triumph swells in your chest when you feel his body jolts in surprise. you think it’s only fair since he has choked you with his cock and what perfect timing to carry out your petty vengeance when the man is busy advising his student.

however, nanami shifts on his seat to give you more access to take more length of his cock. he tries to stay composed as he feels your tongue gliding up and down his shaft but once the wet muscle prods against the slit, he emits an oddly sharp exhale. you can hear him almost stammering as he speaks and the way his tone changes to conceal the squelching sounds you elicit from underneath the table as you please his cock with zeal.

“so, i want you to fix the mistake and hmm..,” his hands ball into fists on the table as he takes a deep breath. “show me in class tomorrow.”

“sure. uh, are you okay, sir?” you hear the voice say. “you don’t look well.”

his eye twitches when your tongue wraps around his balls, taking one inside your mouth to suck harshly.

“yeah, fine.” he clears his throat. “thanks for asking.”

nanami only watches as his student turns to walk towards the door until the door closes behind him. once he’s sure that the student has left the door, he finally leans back on his chair in relief.

“fuck.” he groans, glancing down at you as you look up at him innocently with doe eyes and your swollen lips wrapped prettily around his balls. yet, he looks dissatisfied more than anything.

nanami grabs your arm and drags you out from under his desk until you’re on your feet, “i never took you as a fucking brat.” he lifts up your skirt and bites back a groan once he sees the damp patch on your panties. “did you touch yourself?”

you hum a ‘mhm’, feigning guiltlessness as he grazes his fingers on your inner thighs.

“you’re just asking for me to touch you here, hm?” shivers run up your spine when his thumb ghosts over your wet slit and up to your clit.

“y-yes.” your breath hitches.

“begging for me to push your head on the table and ram my cock inside you?” he muses, pressing on your clit as he watches you squirm. “is that what you want?”

“please–” you roll your hips slightly to soothe the ache on his thumb but a hand comes down harshly on your ass, gesturing for you to stop in a fierce manner.

nanami chuckles mockingly, “well, that’s what exactly you’re not going to get.”

a whine elicits from your lips when he draws back his hands to his thighs and you glance at his dick; still throbbing and leaking precum from the florid tip. well, at least he hasn’t put it back inside his pants, so you still have a chance.

“come on. you haven’t shown me how much you’re sorry.”

with your inhibitions already flew out of the window, you stand in between his thighs, hoist the skirt to your waist and tug your panties to the side before squatting down to smear your slick on his dick. sparks of arousal swim through you as you grind your clit on the tip before you sink down, gasping as his thick cock stretches your cunt and down until you’re filled to the brim.

you glance at the male expectantly, waiting for him to move but he raises a questioning brow at you, “if you want something, work for it.”

not exactly what you sought for, but it should suffice. you begin to gyrate your hips slowly, adjusting to his size before you can pick up the pace. you fight the urge to hold onto him for leverage, in fear he wouldn’t appreciate the crumple on his expensive dress shirt later.

as you become more delirious, you start to hump his cock vigorously, whining like a bitch in heat as you feel every vein and ridges on his cock brushing deliciously against your walls. nanami lifts the hem of your shirt and brings it up to your mouth and you quickly catch it between your teeth.

“the door isn’t locked, you know.” he muses, staring at your bouncing tits with half lidded eyes; mesmerized and thick with lust. “what’s going to happen if someone comes in and sees you bouncing on her professor’s cock like a little whore?”

a low, guttural sound rips from his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him in response.

“you’d like that, don’t you?” he smirks, tugging your bra down slightly and brushes his thumb against the erected nipple, making you mewl through the fabric in your mouth.

“you know you’re not supposed to do this but,” he brings up his thumb to caress your cheek. “you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you?”

you sniffle in response, hands clutching on his solid thighs as you melt into his soft gaze before it’s gone in an instant.

“but i don’t like brats.” he sneers, drawing his hand away to slap your breast. “i don’t like people making my job harder. are you a brat?”

you shake your head, he slaps again.

“you act like one. stop lying.”

nanami tugs down the shirt from your mouth, a part of the fabric already drenched with your drool. his large hand circles around your throat while the other grips your hip firmly to roll your hip even faster on his dick.

“oh– feels good–!” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back as you let him control your body and assert his dominance over you.

“fuck it does.” he presses your throat tighter on the sides, restricting air from entering your lungs but your walls squeeze harder in retaliation.

“bratty little bitch. clamping down on me like that.” he grits out and slaps across your face. what seems to be a rather harsh form of treatment, the pleasure filled sting and the lack of oxygen only fuel your arousal that you don’t even notice the way you hump on his cock has become more rapturous.

“getting off to this?” nanami slaps your other cheek before he lets go of his grip around your neck and you’re finally able to breathe air again. yet, he doesn’t spare you time to gather yourself before he promptly lifts up your hips and starts to pound inside your cunt relentlessly.

the position causes you to tip to the front and you immediately hold on to him; face burying on the crook of his neck while his cologne fills your senses and sends you into a state of frenzy.

“you like me using your tight cunt like that?” nanami grabs your ass for leverage, the angle allows him to fuck you so deep that you’re able to feel his cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“y-yes–!” you cry, the pressure in your stomach building up as you inch closer to an orgasm.

“like it when i use you to take out my frustrations?” he spanks the meaty flesh; walls clenching tighter on his fat cock and more slick dripping down his balls. “you just want to be my little cocksleeve, don’t you?”

“yesyesyes– please–!” your body starts to tremble above him. “w-wanna cum–”

“then fucking cum.” nanami rams into your cunny faster, abusing the spongy walls until the pressure snaps and tips you over the edge. you moan breathlessly into his neck, while your pussy gushes and creams around his cock.

“that’s a good girl,” he fucks you through your high, grunting and panting as he pushes through the pulsing walls in order to chase his high. “and good girls get rewarded, right?”

you hum in agreement, still dazed and swimming in ecstasy as you gawk at him with heavy lidded eyes; the sweat glistening his forehead and sharp eyes focusing on where your bodies join.

“then you’re gonna get some huge load in this pretty pussy.” his pace begins to stutter, nails digging deeper into your skin before his cock twitches and his hips freeze as he paints your insides white with cum.

both exhausted bodies rest against each other, chests heaving as you and nanami take time to regain composure and come down from your highs. he lifts you up slightly to take out his spent cock and he tugs back your panties in place, not minding the cum that dribbles from your quivering hole.

your legs tremble once you get off of him that you have to force yourself to find your footing as you fix your skirt while the older male pulls back his pants in place.

“do your best for your next papers, no more of that bullshit.” he fastens his buttons and straightens his tie before raising his hands to brush against his sleek, light brown hair that’s mixed with a few strands of grey. “but if you have any problems, just come and see me in my office.”

nanami falls quiet for a brief second to contemplate and you straighten your back when you once again meet his icy gaze, “after hours.”

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Gator Lerner

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- The first time you and Gator met is technically not all that important in the grand scheme of things but it does give a bit more backstory on how the two of you became acquainted so I’ll tell it anyway.

- You’d been working as a nurse for quite some time so when the war began and the country was in dire need of medical professionals, you threw on your white uniform and got to work.

- Initially; i.e. at the start of the war, your job was to perform physicals, administer vaccines, and pass, or fail, potential draftees. …I think you know where this is going….

- On a good day, you’d be going through a hundred different pitiable men a shift so the brunette doesn’t exactly stand out to you; you did only have about five minutes alone with him after all, though, in the moment, you acknowledge that he’s sweet and that he’s politely interested in you rather than obnoxiously flirtatious like some of the other men you’ve come across.

- Alas, you’ve got a long day ahead of you and don’t have time to wistfully stare at him so you regretfully pass him and he soon drifts from your mind like he never existed in the first place.

- Except Gators got plenty of time to think about the pretty nurse who more or less sent him to his death; especially while he’s sitting around at base camp or holed up in some area of the jungle.

- Some days, he wishes that he’d taken a chance and said something to you, imagining you failing him for some bullshit reason so that he could take you out to dinner sometime. But most days, most days he’d just sit around and wish that he’d asked for some way to contact you: a last name, a phone number, an address he could potentially write to; anything at all.

- Unfortunately for him, he had nothing and was less than optimistic about his chances of ever seeing you again. Yet, it would seem as though fate was on your side ...in a cruel and somewhat twisted way.

- Fast forward a year or so and you’re working in a MASH unit/hospital, treating and assisting wounded soldiers that are coming in by the boatload.

- It’s a day like any other: you’re hopping from room to room, feet hurting, back aching, sweat collecting, and exhaustion kicking in; along with a healthy dose of depression upon seeing the states of men who were once wide-eyed patriots.

- You open up your folder and check your next patient: Lerner, Gator. The mans name sounds familiar, though it certainly isn’t one a person would easily forget even if they’d only heard it once. You can only pray that you won’t recognize him once you enter the room.

- And you don’t; at least not at first, though he recognizes you and after a brief explanation on his part, you can vaguely recall the moment he’s speaking of. You apologize and express your sorrow for having to have met him again in this way but he brushes off your words and tells you that he’d rather it be this way than a meeting in the morgue; an opinion you can easily agree with.

- Gator quickly becomes one of your favorite patients. Not only is he one of your less critical cases; one that’s recovering steadily and looking better by the day, but he’s also sweet and makes a point of trying to cheer you up whenever he sees you.

- And you become his favorite nurse: he looks forward to seeing you everyday and perks up whenever you’re around. A bad day is immediately made better by your presence and the pain lessons any time he sees your concern over him. He even tells his mom about you in his letters; something we’ll get back to in a moment.

- The first real hint at his feelings towards you comes while you’re getting him ready for bed. You’re adjusting the blanket around him when you spare a glance back at face, finding that his eyes are already on you. You ask if somethings the matter and without skipping a beat, he replies with “you are so pretty.”, causing you to immediately flush.

- You bite back a smile, tell him that you think he should get some sleep and bid him a goodnight; trying your best to ignore the way your heart is racing.

- The two of you share your first date; of sorts, a few months into his stay at the hospital. He’s out of bed steadily for the first time, showing off his mobility as you watch with pride and amusement when he asks if you’d celebrate with him over lunch in the courtyard. You agree and help him there once it’s time for your break, enjoying his company in the fresh air.

- It’s about a month later that his family is able to visit him and you get to meet his mother, an interaction which causes him great embarrassment. She greets you happily as you enter the room and tells you how she’s heard all about you before insisting that they should go and give the two of you some privacy.

- Once she’s gone, he begins to apologize before you assure him that you think it’s sweet, pressing a kiss to his cheek to prove it. When you pull away, he asks if he can “get another one of those” and you do him one better by pressing your lips to his. He whispers that “that’s better” and the two of you share a somewhat flustered laugh before you start to get to work.

- The Vietcong shot him in the stomach but Cupid shot him through the heart and now you’re stuck with him.

- Gator has an incessant need for affection and validation. He likes being a boyfriend: he likes touching and sharing little moments with you, and he’s perfectly willing to look like a lovestruck dork; so long as he’s your lovestruck dork.

- Hang on him like a spider monkey. Turn yourself into a backpack. Jiu-Jitsu submission hold this man like you’re trying to win first place at the tournament. It’s what he wants.

- Constantly having his arm(s) around you. Doesn’t matter wat you’re doing, he’ll find a way to hold you in one way or another.

- Temple kisses.

- Soft kisses.

- Playing with his hair. He loves whenever you just absentmindedly run your fingers through it or try to fix it in some way.

- He’s usually either the big spoon or the little spoon whenever the two of you cuddle; it all just depends on when he falls asleep and what side he wants to lay on.

- He calls you pet names more than your actual name; without even thinking about it, so lets hope that you like being called them. His most used ones are honey, baby, and pumpkin.

- And if you don’t call him swamp thing I swear to god I will find out where you live and -

- Gator; apparently, lives in Tallahassee Florida so the two of you get to either visit your local lakes or drive an hour or so out of the way to visit some of the most beautiful beaches in America.

- Speaking of where he lives: don’t be surprised when he’s completely un-phased by the terrifying wildlife that resides there. You might be in tears because there’s a spider the size of your palm crawling on your screen door but he’ll just say “oh, that's an ‘x’” and grab a cup to scoop it into.

- Hey babe? Why did you bring a gun to our boat/canoe ride? Babe. Babe? Why do you have your rifle? Honey. Angel. Darling. Why are we going out with a gun?

- But in all seriousness, yes, there’s alligators where he lives and yes, you are legally obligated to make a joke about him and “his people” whenever you see one.

- Gator is an absolute sweetheart. You will never meet another man who looks out for and cares for you as much as he does.

- Is it necessary for him to adjust your jacket/hat or be the one to rub calamine lotion on your skin when you get a bug bite? No. Is he going to insist on doing it or just do it without saying anything? Yes.

- I feel like he’s a fifty-fifty split between remembering everything that’s special to you/your relationship and; temporarily, forgetting things that he realistically should not be capable of forgetting; though arguably it sometimes just has to do with him not paying attention to the date.

- Like, he always gets the benefit of the doubt because he’s usually so good at keeping track of things but dear god Gator, how did you forget the reason we had our first kiss; it was the day you saw your family for the first time since you were deployed! You can remember the day and the sequence of events but you don’t remember the context?

- He is a really considerate person most of the time, though. Like you might not even realize half of the little things that he does for you until he nonchalantly mentions it when you finally take notice.

“Did we leave the window open all night?” “Oh, no, I open it before you wake up so the breeze comes in and you can hear the birds.” …Sir <3?!

- The longer you’re together, the more likely he is to adopt your quirks. Have a particular “catchphrase”? Facial expression? Daily ritual? He has a tendency of doing it himself now; oftentimes without even meaning to since he’ll probably tease you about it before it becomes a habit of his as well.

- He loves catching you doing things that you think are embarrassing for other people to see: like watching you sing, dance, make a face or babytalk to a pet. You’ll whine or groan once you see that he’s there but he’ll just smile.

- He picks up on and remembers random things that most people would immediately just forget. Your favorite color or movie, the town you grew up in, your first car, etc; just little tidbits of information like that.

- Small gifts. He remembers little things that you say and surprises you with them: like if you mentioned wanting to try some kind of food or that you wished you had a certain kind of item.

- I also feel like he’d make little objects for you: things like wood carvings or little wire men.

- Going out on necessity runs together. He’s less of a “I’ll happily wander around a store” kind of guy and more of a “we need screws to build that shelf that you want so let’s go” sort of guy; not that he doesn’t get distracted by random shit once you’re there.

- He seems like the type of boyfriend who would like helping you spruce up your house: like assembling shelves, painting the walls, swapping out your lightbulbs, things like that. Although, admittedly, he usually end up taking full control and doing it pretty much all by himself; especially when it comes to building, while you stand cluelessly by his side.

- Him teaching you Vietnamese.

- Him playing the guitar for you.

- Wearing each others jewelry. Having something of yours on him at all times brings him a certain sense of comfort; especially when he isn’t able to see you for very long.

- He probably gets your name tattooed on him at some point, or a pin-up of a nurse that is very clearly you to anyone who knows you.

- Sitting out on the porch together at night.

- Smoking weed together; if that's your sort of thing.

- Diner dates.

- Bonfires.

- Family holidays. I feel like he’d be a mommas boy and would want to bring you home to meet her/spend the day together when it’s a special occasion.

- His kid sister honestly idolizes you. She thinks you’re so glamorous and pretty; even though she’s probably just as beautiful considering she’s related to him.

- Talking to each other about the war. He feels like no one else ever understands or wants to hear about it but; if you want to believe you met in the way that I wrote, you do and can actually empathize.

- He can always seem to calm you down whenever you’re feeling nervous or paranoid; and you can always return the favor whenever he needs you to. You’re each others rocks and even though he may tease you and say things like “you watch too many movies”, he does ultimately take your fears seriously and shows you that you’ll be okay.

- Gator tends not to act jealous even when he is. He tries his best to just assure himself that he trusts you and that he has no reason to worry; which is true even if his brain tries to convince him otherwise. At worst, he’ll say a slightly offhanded comment or somewhat awkwardly say that he doesn’t think you should be hanging around ‘x’; both of which are transparent and lead to you reassuring him.

- After seeing what some people are capable of doing (cough cough Barnes cough cough) and because he has a little sister, he does tend to be quite protective over you. He isn’t constantly obsessing over your safety but he does insist on walking with you when it’s dark or keeping an eye on you when you’re in less than familiar territory.

- The two of you really don’t fight all that much. You’ll occasionally have an argument here or there but they tend to be pretty tame and don’t last very long.

- One of you will be argued out of your stance; realizing that you’re wrong, and you’ll apologize and move on. There’s rarely any hard feelings left over by the end of the day and there’s never any love lost.

- He doesn’t tell you that he loves you constantly but he does show it. He’s not opposed to saying it; he’ll do it if you want him to, he just doesn’t feel like it’s always necessary.

- I hope you were planning on finding yourself a husband because he’s certainly not going away anytime soon and his mother is going to endearingly pester the two of you until it happens.

#gator lerner imagine #gator lerner imagines #gator lerner headcanons #gator lerner headcanon #platoon imagine #platoon imagines #platoon headcanons #platoon headcanon #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanon #80s movie headcanons

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pineapple-lover-boy · 3 years

Text

Can- can I just talk about the Victuuri relationship? Pretty please?

I just…. I’ve never seen a healthy relationship that starts from idolization and a need to get out that has ended in a satisfying way.

Let me elaborate:

We all know that Yuri idolized Victor. It’s why he was so nervous in the beginning and why it took time for them to build on their relationship, he saw Victor as a god.

Victor? He was depressed. He loved the ice so much but he longer found excitement in competitions. He didn’t have any worthy opponents that had a chance of beating him (sorry Chris).

I believe Victor “fell in love” at the banquet. He was attracted to Yuri but, even though he lost, he also saw potential in him. That night was probably the most exciting night for him in a long time. I think he felt genuine affection for Yuri but also saw a way to get out of his predicament.

Then, of course, Yuri didn’t show up the following season (a year had passed before the present timeline). He was most likely annoyed that someone who had gave him excitement didn’t show up. Did he think Yuri had a chance of beating him at first? Probably not. Did he see potential or at least someone he could have fun with during the season? Hell yes!

And then when he saw the video of Yuri skating Stay Close To Me, something that awarded him a gold medal. That’s all he needed. He saw how Yuri not only skated it perfectly but I bet he thought Yuri skated it better. Let’s not forget that emotion is a huge part of skating. If you don’t skate with the passion your supposed to hold for whatever theme you have, your performance can almost seem futile. Victor obviously won because he perfected it but if it was based on how he presented it alone, he would’ve lost. He saw someone worthy of skating an gold medal piece while also having the heart to do it. That’s talent.

Anyways, because of this, their relationship doesn’t hold well in the beginning. He’s passive aggressive towards Yuri because he doesn’t see his own talent and Yuri is just going along for the ride because holy shit it’s Victor fucking Nikiforov.

As they get to know each other and Yuri opens up more (plus Victor getting info on Yuri from the others) Victor starts to see Yuri as an actual person and not someone he can use to project himself onto and then later skate against. And Yuri starts to see him as an actual person too.

I saw on another post talking about how we didn’t see them during the summer and how the end credits of every episode suggest they got to know each other better as both in the credits and in the show they (Yuri) are able to touch each other more. I 100% believe this.

I also believe they might’ve had an argument or two on this topic. It’s not easy to switch from inadvertently seeing someone as anything but a person to an actual person with emotions and feelings. I believe Victor would’ve tried to back away from this subject but Yuri wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t big arguments like in episode 7. It was probably little quarrels that annoyed them both but after having a long conversation they finally started to become more comfortable with each other.

Yuri started letting go of the notion that Victor was a god like creature and Victor saw him as something other than a pawn. Yuri stopped getting as embarrassed with Victor touching him and Victor stopped trying to seduce him as much just so he could see the man from the banquet.

This most definitely leads the way towards a healthier relationship but episode 7 was inevitable. Yuri’s anxiety was at an all time high when he comes out on top. The fact that he needs to stay on top and not mess up is getting to him. As a person with anxiety, it’s pure hell. The thoughts of failing won’t get out of his head and even as he turns off all the monitors he can still hear everything.

Victor takes him away from prying eyes and has no idea what to do. Despite an obvious change that would’ve had to include some emotions from both occurring over the summer, he still has no idea how to help someone in distress.

Then he makes his first mistake. Yuri is visibly shaken by someone’s scores (can’t remember who) and Victor, who is at his wits end, yells at him to stop listening and puts his hands over Yuri’s ears. This tells Yuri how nervous Victor is too and despite knowing that Victor wouldn’t leave him now it shows to him that Victor doesn’t have faith in him (even if he does).

Victor tried to shatter Yuri’s heart. He must’ve expected Yuri to maybe sign heavily but tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to win (probably something that’s happened with him and Yakov). Instead he see’s the consequences of his carelessness. Yuri rightfully lashes out at him and even through all that Victor stills says “should I kiss you?”. Idk what Yuri was thinking but if I were him I would be extremely offended that Victor would try and use me like some doll he can play with and can assume that physical affection and love can fix everything, which was probably what Yuri was thinking.

There’s something off about Yuri and Victor when they emerge but Yuri is surprisingly better now. Cathartic crying can do wonders, kids. There’s also my favorite part of the entire show (couldn’t find a gif):

*head jab* “Hey, fuck you.”

*more head jabs* “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I know you don’t like this you unempathetic dicknip.”

*head pat* “You’re forgiven.”

We all know what happens next: Yuri ends his love story with Victor’s signature move and Victor kisses him out of joy and the need to one up him (with love, of course).

I’m gonna get a little sloppy here with the timeline because I have the memory of a female protagonist that needs to go back to work to get something only to accidentally bump into the jerk CEO of which she will develop a toxic relationship for fan service, so forgive me.

Gonna skip ahead to the scene where Yuri tells Victor that he’s leaving skating, and basically Victor too. (At this moment I realized I’ve been spelling Viktor with a c and not a k which is really fucking with my brain but it’s too late to go back). Victor starts crying and realizes just how Yuri felt when he was rejecting him.

I believe Yuri found some light in the situation because of that fact, which Victor was not having. They’ve been closer than ever now. They’ve kissed, they’ve also announced they they’re getting married, so what the hell?!

Yuri, as we know, feels he’s keeping Victor from the ice. Victor, while he misses the ice and wouldn’t mind being competitive again, has found meaning and if he’s going to be Yuri’s coach to stay where he is than so be it.

He wanted to coach Yuri because he wanted a worthy competitor and while he still wants that, what matters most now is his relationship with Yuri. If he stops being Yuri’s coach and Yuri goes off the ice he knows it will be the end. Yuri loves the ice too and I’d bet he’d try to distance himself from Victor as to not feel regret from leaving without actually knowing that he’s doing it.

They’ve grown so much at this point. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. After all they’ve been through Yuri doesn’t realize that consequences of parting from one another. While being too dependent on your spouse isn’t good, it’s what they both need right now. They are what caused the other person to be happy again and while I hate those types of storylines this one executed it perfectly.

I find Victor’s silent plea to Yurio absolutely heartbreaking. He knows it’s bad to put pressure on people but now he’s doing that to a 15 year old boy. He’s putting his relationship and his life into this child’s hands because he knows there’s nothing else he can do.

I do think Yurio had a crush on Yuri but even if he didn’t: Yuri has taught him so much. He, although being an ass most of the time, has really come to love Yuri as family. It’s clear that Yurio was always lonely (Otabek being his first friend and all) but once he came to Japan and lived, truly lived there, he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Yurio wins, Yuri gets silver and all’s well that ends well.

I guess my point of this was to show how well the relationship in YOI was. I could’ve included some more detail on some points but I usually write stuff in one take (it’s very hard to revise without my mind shutting on itself).

I just love how an implicitly toxic relationship can come out so healthy. They don’t do any of that miscommunication bullshit and when they do it’s because the characters don’t know what to do or how to handle something. Like humans do!

They could’ve easily made this the hot famous guy thinks the kawai girl boy is just so adorable and the kawai girl boy is absolutely infatuated with the hot guy. Hijinks ensue which includes the kawai girl boy thinking the hot guy is in love with someone else. She He gets pushed into thinking that she’s he’s more independent in the end and happily ever after for the couple that will divorce in less than five years! Yay!

Seriously, I thought that was what was going to happen but YOI subverted my expectations so much. They are people that grew from their bad mindsets. And you know what? Yuri still has anxiety! Victor is still bad with handling emotions! And that’s ok! We don’t change that quickly. It takes time and hopefully another season.

I’m definitely using this show as a template for healthy relationships. It’s so hard for me to properly write them when I’ve never been in one and I’m not given the chance to see it happen in different environments (when searching it up all I get is “they trust each other. They blame each other. They’re compassionate.” Like ok but can you show me how?)

Yuri!!! On ice…. I love you so much. You have done so much for my mental health and my writing. Thank you.

#yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #katsuki yuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikirofov #please tell me if you want me to elaborate on some sections #long post #yurio plisetsky #yuri plisetsky #healthy relationships

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

Anything, For You

This is a continuation of Anything. Please be sure to read that part first if you want some context!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal and Anal), Threesome (Double Penetration), Weed / Alcohol Use, Rough Oral Sex (blow job, face fucking), Public Foreplay, Public Humiliation, Spanking, Choking, Obsessive Reader, Toxic / Power Imbalanced Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Suggested Dubcon / Reluctant / Compliant Reader

Words: 12,128

Pairing: Drummer!Bakugou Katsuki x Superfan!Fem!Reader x Guitarist!Kirishima Eijirou

Quirkless, Punk rock band AU

Not specifically written for, but using it for the @bnhabookclub ‘s members bingo event!

Crossed off: Threesome

Bingo Masterlist

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Art in banner by me

Tag list: @lady-bakuhoe , @gallickingun , @unbreakableeiji , @boom-bakugou , @honeytama , @wakaoujisenhime , @ikinabi , @thotpatrolcaptain , @1-800-callmekatsuki , @tomurasprincess , @bratwritings

You nervously tightened your grip on the small clutch in your hands, digging your nails into the faux leather and ignoring the sting of the metal pointed studs against your skin. For a few minutes now, you had just been standing outside of the club Garden, listening to the loud music and watching the flashing neon lights every time the door opened. With each group of people leaving, stumbling out drunk and high off adrenaline from dancing, the same amount were let in from an insanely long line, which even curved around the building to where you couldn’t see. There were so many people waiting to go in, and yet, you knew that you could just bypass this line and go on in.

Why were you so nervous?

It wasn’t the thought that you would be glared or yelled at by the people waiting if you skipped the line. Sure, it might make you a bit embarrassed if they picked at you, but that wasn’t the problem. No, it was who was waiting inside the club and who gave you that exact privilege to just come on in that terrified you.

Bakugou 10:50 pm: come to the club Garden downtown around 1 am. just show your ID at the door and theyll let you in past the line.

Me 10:51 pm: Just me?

Bakugou 10:51 pm: just you, babe. your shitty friends arent invited.

After releasing a trembling breath, you opened your clutch to take a quick look at your phone, giving a small groan at the time that showed 1:02 am. It was time to go in, but you were so damn nervous. How could you not be? Showing up to a strange and very crowded club, to hang out and drink with your favorite people - or, well, person - on this planet? With what happened earlier that night, you knew that any type of debauchery could go down, and the stinging welts on your asscheek were testament to that. But there was going to be way more involved. More people, alcohol, and most likely some type of drugs, for sure. You knew that you’d need to be vigilant, but being in Bakugou’s presence again, you weren’t sure you’d have the willpower to say no to anything that was handed your way.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your hand, startling you enough to make you jump and almost lose your balance on your chunky, boot style platform heels. Looking at the screen, the fire in your cheeks grew hotter, reading the text that Bakugou had just sent you.

Bakugou 1:03 am: where are you at, babygirl? scared?

Me 1:03 am: No, I’m about to come in. There’s… a lot of people.

Bakugou 1:04 am: fuck them and come inside. there’s someone waiting to bring you up.

Releasing a trembling breath, you put your phone back in your clutch and pulled out your ID instead, gathering your courage to walk up to the front door. One of the two bouncers immediately looked down at you with a threatening posture, though his demeanor changed at the sight of your timid presence.

“Skipping the line?”

“I… have VIP permissions. From Bakugou Katsuki… I’m [f/n] [l/n]. He said I should be on a list.”

Taking your ID, the bouncer first checked it over with a flashlight to confirm its authenticity, before picking up a clipboard that was resting on a stool beside him. It only took him a moment before finding your name, smiling and giving a nod. “Yep, there you are. Follow me.” Putting the clipboard down and handing you the ID back, he made his way through the front door, at first holding it open for some people leaving before allowing you through.

Any objections you may have heard from the people in line were immediately drowned out by the music, the heavy beat shaking the ground. It was quite dark in the large industrial style building, with only blacklights and flashing neon skylights illuminating the dancefloor. Though, up one floor, you could see a loft area with mostly regular lighting, though it was dimmed, and you wondered if that’s where you would be going.

Following the bouncer as he made his way past, you used his impressive height and size to push through the crowds, since he was easily able to part the sea of bouncing drunken bodies. He led you to the stairs, as you had expected, and started to make his way up, only giving you a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still following. Or to make sure that no one else was coming up, either. You weren’t sure.

As you made your way up, you felt a bit embarrassed that the stairway was mostly exposed, using your free hand to hold your short dress up against your backside to hopefully keep anyone from seeing anything private. You weren’t wearing any hose this time, since the only ones you had brought with you into town for the concert were the fishnets that Bakugou had destroyed earlier. Your only cute pair of underwear had also been destroyed, so right after the concert, you had to hunt some down. All you could find at the only store still open was a pair of cute little lace boy short style panties, which were quite sexy and were decently invisible under your dress. You knew that they would be, since you got them from a damn porn shop. There was nothing else open at midnight, so there was no choice. It still ended up perfect, though. If something else did end up happening, you assumed he would like them. Or you hoped so.

The closer you got to the loft, you realized that it was actually surrounded by glass. The only thing that was solid was the door, which was opened after a loud series of knocks from the bouncer. After a click, another man opened it up, glancing first at your guide before down to you. “She’s invited?”

“Yes. [f/n] [l/n]. Bakugou’s guest.” Stepping aside, the bouncer and what appeared to be a security guard allowed you inside, the door shutting immediately once you passed the threshold. The sudden volume difference of the room startled you a bit, as did the change in lighting, but you were quick to take in your surroundings.

There were multiple couches and chairs scattered about in strategic locations, along with tables that were already piled up with drinks. The room was much smaller than it seemed, with only one other door along the back solid wall, which you assumed was a bathroom. Then, your eyes landed on the men you adored, and your entire body instantly flushed with heat as you noticed all their eyes on you.

“Your clutch, ma’am?”

The security guard pulled you out of your stupor, holding his hand out in front of you. Nervously, you placed it in his hand, watching as he placed it in a bag behind him and zipped it up. Immediately after, he ran some type of long beeping device across the front and back of your body about an inch away, which you assumed was a metal detector. When it didn’t go off, he allowed you to walk further in with a wave of his hand, and you timidly stepped forward while pulling down your dress, clearing your throat a bit in awkwardness.

“Hey there, babygirl.” Bakugou spoke with a sly smirk on his face, holding a glass of dark colored liquor near his lips. “Finally made it. Took you fucking long enough.”

“Sorry…” Making your way towards the couch he was on, you took a moment to look at the other members, trying to control the nervous swirling of your stomach. “Nice to see you all again…”

“You were in our first meet up group, right?” Midoriya smiled at you, placing his hand on the thigh of a curvaceous woman that was placed firmly on his lap. His voice was still quite strained and cracked, worn from the performance. “Kacchan told me he invited someone, but he didn’t tell me who!”

“Because it’s none of your damn business, Deku,” With a snap of his finger as he held his hand out towards you, Bakugou commanded you over to him silently. Not even taking a second to think about it, you approached, taking his hand. He led you with only a gentle pull to stand between his legs, placing both of his hands on your outer thighs. “You look good, babygirl.”

“T-thank you-” You were cut off by the sound of a door closing, along with an annoyed whine.

“Aww, what the fuck?! Even Bakugou was able to get a girl this time, and he never does! I must have really sucked today.” Huffing, Kaminari shuffled his way towards an empty armchair, flopping down to sit with his legs stretched out in front of him, toes pointed towards the ceiling. “Bullshit.”

“You suck all the time, dunceface.”

“I do not! All the girls wanted me at our last gig.”

“Yeah, because both Deku and Kirishima were out of commission after that, so they had no other option. Don’t be such a little bitch, if you want girls, go fucking dance.” Although Bakugou’s snappy demands were directed at his companion, his glazed over crimson eyes never left your body. They scanned over every inch of you quite diligently, as if he were missing you greatly just from these few hours apart. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you let one rest tenderly on his bicep while running the other softly through his bangs, pulling the fair blonde hair loose of the light grip of sweat that stuck it to his skin. You weren’t sure if it was the lighting in the room or maybe his intoxication, but you could have sworn that you could see the tips of his ears flush with your touch.

“But I don’t want to go dance alone!” Kaminari whined, sinking further into the chair. His voice broke your concentration on the man in front of you, looking at the pouting bass player over your shoulder. It was odd, you thought, that there weren’t as many girls in here as you expected. Actually, there was only you and the girl with Midoriya, whose attention was fully on him, hands on his freckled cheeks and playfully squishing them together. Her bobbed brunette hair gave away who she was, as you had seen her in many of his social media postings, but you couldn’t quite remember her name. All you knew was that they were dating and had been friends for a very long time, but that didn’t really matter right now.

Kirishima sighed, resting his arms up over the back of the couch, his hand pulling your attention as it came to rest decently close to Bakugou’s head, though the drummer didn’t protest or seem to even notice. “C’mon, man, don’t be such a downer! I think you need to take another hit and get down there. Take Todoroki with you.”

Kaminari scoffed, looking over at the silent member of their band, who was more focused on his phone and his fancy martini looking drink than anything they were talking about. “What, so he can go stand in the middle of the dancefloor like a weirdo? He doesn’t have any dancing rhythm! He barely moves when we’re performing!”

“Yeah, but girls like him more than you, he’d help you catch their attention.”

“Now you’re all just being assholes!” Huffing, Kaminari sat up and leaned forward, snatching up a small glass pipe and the lighter beside it. “It’s not my fault that no one likes the bass players! I’m not as cool as you!”

“Hey, I’ve offered to play bass sometimes.” Kirishima grinned, reaching over to scratch the side of his nose. “But Bakugou won’t let us switch--”

“Fuck no.” Bakugou interrupted, now glowering at his friends, both of his strong hands resting on your hips firmly. “That’s too much power I’m not willing to give you, dunceface.”

“Rude.” Grumbling under his breath, Kaminari glared down at the pipe as he brought it to his lips, lighting it up and taking a hit. The smell of weed hit your nose immediately as he exhaled, the cloud of smoke leaving his lips slowly as he leaned back in the chair. “Midoriya would.”

“Because he’s a dipshit.”

“You’re so aggressive today! I think you’re the one that needs a hit, bro.”

“Fuck that shit. I’m not looking to fall asleep any time soon.”

“You’re up way past your bedtime, anyway. Grandpa.” Passing the pipe and lighter over to Kirishima as he beckoned for it, Kaminari gave a sly smirk, knowing he could press Bakugou’s buttons while you were in his way. You could feel Bakugou’s grip tighten in irritation and see his brows furrow, but to your surprise, he was quick to calm, giving an annoyed click of his tongue as he used only slight pressure to pull you to the side, gesturing to the couch for you to sit. You did so, now effectively squished between the two men, one taking a hit while the other gulped down what was left of his drink.

If you were honest, you felt quite… awkward. You didn’t really know what to do with yourself and you weren’t sure if talking would be welcomed. You were new to this tight knit group, and even though you admired and adored every single one of them, you almost felt like you didn’t belong there. Were you really worthy of being in their presence like this or being so close to Bakugou as he rested an arm around your shoulders, pulling you up against his side? It felt like a dream, and you were horrified that at any moment, you would wake up to find yourself lonely in your hotel bed.

“Want a hit, sweetheart?”

Your thoughts were disrupted by Kirishima’s pleasant ringing voice, his smile soft and comforting as he held the pipe and lighter towards you. At first, you hid your face a bit behind Bakugou’s forearm, fiddling with your nails. “I’ve never done it before… I probably shouldn’t.”

“Aw c’mon, you should! You’re safe here with us! That’s pretty cool, too, isn’t it? To have you first hit ever with your favorite band.” Kirishima’s eyes left yours for a moment as he glanced up, most likely at Bakugou, though there wasn’t anything malicious that you could see. He was genuinely being very nice about it, and so far, no one had protested. Still, you looked up at Bakugou for approval, a sly smirk crossing his lips when you did so.

“What, babygirl? Looking for permission?”

Feeling heat rush to your cheeks at his domineering tone, you nodded. “Yes. Is it okay?”

“What do you say?” His rough fingers took hold of your chin, tilting your head up as he leaned in, whisky tainted lips brushing against yours. Your heart began to race, chest heaving with steady, heavy breaths as you parted your lips expectantly. But, you were left with nothing until you answered, and you did so without a second thought or worry about what anyone else in the room might think.

“Please, Katsuki.”

A low hum resonated in his chest in satisfaction of your response, pressing his hot lips against yours to reward you for being so obedient. Or, at least, that’s how you understood it. In the few hours that you had been away from him, there hadn’t been a single moment of lucidness where you felt like you had escaped whatever hold he had placed on you. In fact, your wanting to be at his side only grew worse, to hear him praise you and reward you when you were a good girl for him.

His praise. His touch. His attention. All of it was so intoxicating, and you wanted more.

When he set your lips free after just a short moment, it took only a light bump to your chin to have you turn your head to look back at Kirishima, who was waiting patiently. He was still smiling, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eye, as if he had been waiting to see just how obedient you still were. It was gone with a blink, his pleasant and cheerful demeanor taking over as he held the pipe up between his fingers.

“Yeah? Gonna do it, sweetheart?”

“Sure,” You answered meekly, turning a bit more to face him. “Uhm… How do I do it?”

Kirishima was very thorough in his explanation of how to use the pipe, and by the time he was done, you felt confident that you could do it. Though, your confidence didn’t amount to much, as you still ended up with quite the coughing fit after your first hit. Behind the coughing and burning in your throat, you could hear Kaminari gasp out in surprise, though you couldn’t quite focus on him yet through the smoke.

“Holy shit, Kirishima, you should have just prepped it for her, that’s gonna fuck her up!”

Chuckling, Kirishima handed you a cup of water, which you gulped down eagerly. “She’s fine, that wasn’t that bad! A little too aggressive on sucking it in, but you’ll get it down. You okay?” He gave your thigh a few comforting pats, his lingering on your bare skin not quite registering in your mind as you tried to calm the burning in your throat. Thankfully, it was fading decently quick, but it still wasn’t anything like what you had expected.

“I’m okay,” You choke out after a moment, placing both the glass of water and the pipe down on the coffee table in front of you. “You guys make it look so easy!”

“That’s because they’re fucking potheads.” Bakugou pulled you back up against him. “Especially Dunceface over there. Can’t go five minutes without being high.”

“Don’t be telling lies about me, Kacchan.” Kaminari waddled a finger at his friend, and you could tell that he was feeling pretty relaxed compared to a while ago. “It’s more like three minutes.”

“Shut up. Where the fuck’s our bartender? We haven’t gotten new drinks-”

“-Let’s go down, then!” Kaminari hopped up to his feet, clapping his hands together to try and get his friends riled up. “Let’s get some drinks and dance like we’re normal people, no one’s gonna recognize us down there, it’s too dark! This VIP shit gets boring sometimes. Right, Todoroki?” With a bounce in his step, he walked over behind the couch his quiet friend was sitting on, giving him a firm smack on the shoulders. “You’re just over here on your phone! Let’s go dance!”

Todoroki took his friend shaking him from side to side like a champ, not looking away from his phone or spilling his drink. “I’ll sit at the bar, but I’m not going to dance.”

“You will after a couple of shots. Midoriya? Ochaco?”

“Let’s go, Deku!” Hopping up off his lap, the brunette took both of Midoriya’s hands, trying to pull him up with meager strength. “Let’s all go!”

With a heavy sigh in defeat, Midoriya stood, as did Todoroki. Though, there was no movement from either of the two men beside you, so you glanced between them curiously. Kirishima seemed interested, while Bakugou looked like he wanted to throw them all off the balcony just to get some peace. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of being here, the electric energy from Kaminari, or the hit you had taken, but you really wanted to go. You were feeling restless and, if you were honest, kind of bummed out that you were still the only one who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. You came here to have a good time with these guys. With Bakugou. But how could you talk him into it?

“You losers coming or not?” Kaminari barked before you could say a word, glowering at the three of you still plastered on the couch as he stood by the door, waiting for their security guard to unlock it and step out. “Kacchan, you were complaining about drinks, come down and get some with us!”

“Fuck, fine! If it will shut you up!”

Everything changed pace in a blink of an eye from that moment. Before you knew it, you had taken two shots of… something, and sucked down a drink faster than you thought you would, all while watching the bouncing bodies on the dance floor with Bakugou at your side. Though, he wasn’t just standing next to you. His arm was hooked around your waist like a vice, his powerful and off-putting presence preventing any man with wandering eyes from even considering trying to come up to you. At first, you felt a bit embarrassed that he was so close and so protective, but you also couldn’t help but feel… flattered. And that flattery brought up a new bubbling in your belly.

You were so happy. Again, you didn’t know if it was because of the high or the alcohol, but you were absolutely beyond tickled. It was such a strong sensation, in fact, that you couldn’t help but start to bounce on your feet and sway to the music. Your hips bumped into Bakugou’s as he stood beside you, one arm around your shoulders while the other propped him up on the bar counter. With the bump, he tightened his arm around your neck, pulling you in closer to him and pressing his lips against your ear so you could hear him over the blaring music.

“What are you doing?”

“Dancing!” You responded near his ear as he turned his head to hear you. “I like this song!”

“You call that dancing?” With his insult, he moved his arm around your back and gave you a small push forward towards the dance floor, smirking at the confusion on your face when you looked back at him. Taking your drink from your hands, he finished off the last bit of it before leaving it on the counter behind him, giving your ass a tap to guide you forward. Within moments, you were both swallowed by the giant group of sweating, bouncing bodies, all who had little to no care on who they were touching or where they were moving.

And yet, with Bakugou's arms around your waist from behind, you felt like you were completely enveloped in your own bubble. Just you, him, and the music. What truly snapped your restraint was his deep growl in your ear, tugging your hips tightly back so that your ass was firmly pressed against him.

“Show me how you can really dance, babygirl.”

No one would truly call the way you rubbed your bodies against each other to the rhythm of the music “dancing”, but all your body could comprehend in your intoxicated state. The flashing neon lights, from pitch black to strobing, was almost making you dizzy, and the only thing that seemed to alleviate the disorientation was putting all your focus on Bakugou.

The way you two moved was seamless and in tune, his hands freely roaming your body with no fears of being noticed within the densely packed group. Even if someone did notice, you wouldn’t care. All you cared about was his lips against the skin of your neck, his fingers digging into your plush curves and the hard presence of his cock beneath his pants. Just feeling it against your ass made you remember how good he felt fucking you, the way he filled up every inch of your aching cunt and made you scream for him.

How he made you his.

How you would do anything for him.

How he owned you.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.”

The voice in your ear was a sweet growl; more of a purr to calm and coax you. It was so comforting that you almost forgot where you were for a moment, until you did as you were told. Instead of a group of dancing bodies in front of you, you were met with a clear view of that brilliant, wide grin sported only by Kirishima. He was in front of you, dancing with you and Bakugou together, his hands also firmly on your body to keep you pinned between the two men.

Your entire body immediately flushed hot, pressing further back against Bakugou to try and get some space between you and the redhead. “K-Kiri-!”

“Don’t you even think about it.” Bakugou growled in your ear, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. “Let him touch you.”

You didn’t have much time to even consider complying before Bakugou moved you both forward, not allowing you any space or chance to dip out from between them. You were trapped. How long had Kirishima even been there? Whose hands had been touching you this entire time, squeezing your breasts and your hips so eagerly? Had it been both of them? Whose hand was that right now, sliding up your thigh and bringing your dress with it.

What was happening? They couldn’t actually be thinking about touching you here on the dancefloor, could they? In the privacy of the VIP room, maybe, but out here in the middle of all these people? Someone would notice!

You tried to squeak out a plea to stop, but Bakugou’s hand around your throat stopped any little sound from slipping out. Instead, your hips were pulled forward and snug against Kirishima’s, one of his legs between yours so that you were practically sitting on his thigh. But that wasn’t where your hips were directed. Instead, with the beat of the music, Kirishima rutted his hips against you, and you could easily feel the hard presence of his cock against your scantily clothed sex. He was wearing loose black joggers, so there was basically nothing between you, and with both men surrounding you completely and still moving with the music, there was no hope of someone noticing.

Needing to ground yourself, you clutched on to both of Kirishima’s biceps, his hands set firmly on your hips. The digging of your nails into his skin only seemed to spur him on further, becoming rougher with his thrusts, and the more he stroked across your clit, the more you began to lose yourself. It felt so good, even though you knew that it shouldn’t. It was Bakugou all over again, fucking your throat raw as your essence dripped down your thighs, just as it was now. Kirishima was using you for his own gratification, and Bakugou was allowing it. This wasn’t okay.

You clenched your eyes shut tightly as Bakugou’s hands moved to caress your breasts, squeezing them roughly and eagerly pinching your nipples. You heard him groan in your ear, his attention to your nipples increasing as he noticed the little studs in place. “Oh fuck, babygirl, I didn’t know you had piercings here, too. I’m an idiot for not stripping you in the changing room, but I’m not going to make that mistake tonight.”

His teeth sinking into the skin of your neck and another harsh twist made your body jolt, a moan involuntarily slipping through your lips. Before it could get far, it was devoured by Kirishima, who kissed you passionately to silence you.

What should I do? It feels good, but… I didn’t want Kirishima like this!

A rough nibble to your lip forced your mouth open, unable to stop or resist Kirishima's tongue from invading. He tasted like weed and the sour sting of an energy drink still on his lips, but that isn’t what made you want to pull away. Was he… a better kisser than Bakugou? No one could be better than the blonde behind you… at anything! And yet, here Kirishima was, making you completely breathless and absolutely on fire. It wasn’t so brash or dominating, either.

You loved it. A lot.

A moan leaked through the kiss as Bakugou moved his lips to your ear, running his tongue along the shell of it before nibbling harshly at the delicate skin below. “You like his cock rubbing up against you, baby? You like being pinned between us like the little desperate whore you are?”

Kirishima finally released your lips, giving you a chance to take in deep trembling breaths. “Yes, Katsuki! But I— “

“What?”

“I really have to pee!”

Both men paused with your proclamation, watching your face in confusion as you stood there trembling in their grip. You hadn’t been lying, and it was clear as day in your flushed face. You needed to go to the restroom. If you didn’t, you knew there would be an accident all over yourself and the two men that held you.

“You’re serious?” Kirishima spoke loudly enough so you could hear him, and you nodded with urgency. After glancing at Bakugou, he took a step back, awkwardly trying to make his boner mostly invisible behind his joggers. “Okay. I’d rather you not piss all over.”

Bakugou turned your head towards him, his glare immediately making your legs feel weak. “He’ll take you upstairs. I’m going to get more drinks and meet you up there. You better not be using this as an excuse, or I’ll have to punish you.”

“I-it’s not, Katsuki, I promise- mmph!” You were silenced as he kissed your lips roughly, his frustration at having to stop apparent. Then, with a rough tap to your ass, you were urged forward and into Kirishima’s arms. You didn’t get a chance to glance back at Bakugou as you were led through the crowd, Kirishima using his height and size to easily push through and bump people out of the way without too much inconvenience to you. Much to your surprise, he was quite attentive of you, pulling you out of the way of wild swinging arms and keeping a firm grip on you in case you were tripped by stray feet.

By the time you finally reached the stairs, you were completely worn out and feeling like your bladder was about to erupt. Still, you made it up the stairs and into the singular bathroom before you could piss yourself, and as you sat on the toilet, you could truly feel how intoxicated you were. You weren’t sure if your mind was spinning from the alcohol, the weed, or the incredible rush that you had felt on the dancefloor. You could feel, however, that you were incredibly sweaty, your hair sticking to your forehead, cheeks and the back of your neck like it was glued to your skin. Though, the wetness at your cunt and spread across your inner thighs was even worse.

You couldn’t believe that you had gotten so wet and turned on from what they had done to you. Even your pathetic excuse for underwear was completely soaked through, your essence thick and visible on the black fabric. The way they had cornered you like that wasn’t something that should have excited you so much, yet here you were, trembling and dripping wet. And now, you were caught up here in this room with Kirishima. Who knows how long it might take Bakugou to get the drinks, since the bar was incredibly busy and it had taken nearly fifteen minutes to get yours earlier.

With a defeated sigh, you wiped and decided to clean yourself up the best you could, even patting your underwear with toilet paper. In the end, the attempt wasn’t very successful, and you almost wanted to rip them back off the instant you pulled them back up to your hips.

After washing your hands and spending a few minutes fixing your hair and wiping your face and neck of sweat, you left the restroom, finding Kirishima standing near the coffee table with the weed pipe in his hands. He gave you a comforting smile as you approached, taking a hit and blowing the smoke away from you. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Yes… Uhm… Why did-”

“Want another hit?” Kirishima interrupted you, as if he knew exactly what you were about to ask and wanted to avoid it while he could. “You’re more relaxed now, you’ll get it this time. It’ll calm your nerves, too. You’re trembling like a leaf, babe.”

“I’m… not sure.”

“You don’t want Bakugou to see you all nervous and uptight, do you?”

The tone of his voice instantly made your stomach twist, able to hear the slightest twinge of a threat mixed in with the worried question. Of course you didn’t want Bakugou to see you like this. You had just been so peppy and energetic down on the dancefloor, he would surely be annoyed if you grew so timid all the sudden. So, without a word, you took the pipe and lighter, doing everything you could to ignore the twist at the corner of his lips.

Letting out a trembling breath, you brought the pipe to your lips, able to inhale, hold, and exhale without any urges to cough outside of a slight clearing of your throat. Chuckling, Kirishima took the pipe and lighter from you, setting them down again. “See! Look at you! A natural.”

“It’s stronger this time.”

“Yeah, I cleaned it out and prepped it again while you were in the restroom.” As he spoke, you made your way over to the front of the room, looking out of the glass and down at the bar, scanning for the blonde you had left behind. It didn’t take you long to see him, sitting on a stool as he awaited the delivery of the drinks. Though, you instantly felt heat rush to your fluttering stomach, surprised to see that he was already staring up at you. You couldn’t see his expression, but you could almost feel the icy daggers of his glare on your skin. In fact, your entire body was tingling, your mind growing dull while your body felt like every inch of you was being lightly pricked with needles. It was as if you could feel everything. Your hair tickling the back of your neck. Your dress tight against your chest. Your hot and wet underwear clung tightly against your folds and your clit.

“Find him?” Kirishima nearly startled you enough to make you jump as he came to stand beside you, looking around curiously at all the activity below. “He sticks out like a sore thumb, doesn’t he? Ah, there! He’s already looking up here, too. He’s so into you, babe.”

“He is…?”

“Oh yeah. And I can see why.” One of his large hands came to rest against your lower back, stepping in a bit closer to you. “You’re so cute and timid. Obedient.” His hand began to travel down along the curve of your ass, the slight sting of your welts from earlier making you tense and nibble at your lower lip. “Sexy. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.”

“Katsuki might… get upset if you do anything when he’s not here.” You clutched at the bottom of your dress, trying to keep it down in the front while Kirishima slowly pulled it up from the back.

“Oh you’re right, he might. Then you’d better not do anything to let him notice, hm? He’s watching us, after all.” His hand began to stroke along your ass, groping and squeezing with a firm grip. “Damn, you have a nice ass.”

A small squeak escaped your lips as two if his fingers slipped between your cheeks, rubbing your sex on the outside of your underwear. “Kiri… I’m… I don’t want to without Katsuki here.”

“You sure about that? ‘Cause your wet pussy is telling me otherwise.” With aggressive movements that made you involuntarily take a step closer to the glass, Kirishima moved his hand into your underwear. Without skipping a beat, his middle and ring fingers slid into your wet cunt with ease, forcing a sweet gasp from your lips. “Oh fuck, you’re tight. It’s no wonder Bakugou’s already obsessed after only fucking you once.”

He began to move his fingers in and out of you, slowly dragging along your inner walls, being sure to keep them curved at just the right angle. Each time he dug them into you, he pressed right into your most sensitive areas, making your entire body tingle and soft moans escape your lips. Though, just as you were about to lean forward and stick your ass out for him, he gave a small hiss in warning.

“Don’t move, sweetheart. You want him to notice?” He quickened his pace, as if he were trying to get you to give yourself away. Resting his body against the glass using one arm to prop himself up, he appeared completely casual. Since he was turned slightly towards you, he could use this angle for better leverage, digging his fingers into you faster and deeper. “But it’s not just him. Everyone down there can see us.”

From down below, you were sure that there wasn’t anything suspicious about the two of you, and keeping that facade was completely up to you. Even so, how sensitive your body felt, and the pleasure was already beginning to make your legs weak, so you had to press your hand against the glass to support yourself. Your panting breaths fogged up the clear surface now that you were so close to it, even able to feel your hard nipples rub against the cold. It was so much stimulation so fast that you weren’t sure how long you were going to be able to hold out.

Whining as you bit down on your bottom lip, you clenched your eyes shut tightly, digging your nails against the glass. “Kiri… please… He’ll notice!”

“I wonder what he’ll do, then.” He began to alternate between fingering you and rubbing your clit, nearly crippling what little hold you had left on yourself. “He’d punish you, for sure, but I wonder how? Maybe he’ll spank that pretty ass until you’re crying. Or edge you over and over. Or not give you anything at all.”

“I… please--” A moan cut you off as you began to feel yourself growing closer and closer to your release, placing both of your hands against the glass, now. “Please, I can’t hold it!”

“Going to cum already? Let’s change it up a bit, then.”

For a split second, you thought that he was going to completely stop as he removed his fingers from your aching and trembling cunt. Instead, you were met with a jolt of shock through your core as both of his fingers moved to your asshole, beginning to press into you without any warning. You couldn’t stop your hips from arching back towards his hand, your upper body and forehead firmly against the glass. “K-Kiri-!”

“Ooh, looks like someone like their ass filled up, hm? What a shame Bakugou didn’t play with you here, that little squeak you just made was adorable.” His fingers slid into you up to his knuckles, bending and flexing them apart to make you moan and wiggle. “That’s it, sweetheart. You like your ass fucked?”

“Y-yes,” you forced your eyes open, looking back down at Bakugou through the dark and flashing neon lights. He was still watching you, but there was something else. With the cover of the dark and his hips turned towards the counter, you could see him palming himself between his legs. Could he tell what was happening? Was he really getting off on it? “Kiri… I think he can tell- ah! Fuck!” Your voice cracked as he began to move his fingers within you, moving at an even quicker and more aggressive pace than he had been before.

“He can? Well fuck, sweetheart, that means so can all the other people down there.” Kirishima moved in closer, pressing his lips against your flushed cheek, his smirk wide and eyes gleaming with enjoyment. “Can you feel their eyes on you? Watching you get off on me fingering your ass like the good little slut you are. You like being watched, don’t you?”

“I… I don’t want them all to see me! But Katsuki is… he’s watching��”

“That’s right. He’s watching while I get to play with you. He’s so jealous he can’t help but watch, just waiting for his chance. You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes… Yes, I like him watching me.” Your body began to rock with his movements, the pleasure building back up rapidly. “Just to know that Katsuki wants me so bad… It makes me so hot!” You couldn’t stop your voice as your hips arched further back, trembling legs spreading a bit. “Please! Please let me cum, Kiri! I want to cum while he watches me!”

“Yeah, babe, cum all over my fingers. That’s it.” The encouraging grumble of his voice in your ear and the increased speed of his fingers within you immediately made you lose it, gasping and moaning against the glass as you struggled to stay up on your feet. The waves of pleasure that crashed over you were so intense, much more than you had ever felt just from a little assplay, but you didn’t care to try to rationalize why.

“What a good girl.” Kirishima pressed his lips against your cheek in a playful kiss, removing his fingers and giving your backend a few light smacks. “How about we sit down for a while, hm? You need to relax a bit before Bakugou gets back up here.”

Pushing yourself up off the glass, you didn’t think about looking for Bakugou again before you followed him over towards the couches on weak legs. You could still feel the remnants of your orgasm pulsing through your body, the slickness that you had wiped away in the bathroom once again coating your thighs and further soaking your underwear. His large, rough fingers had felt so good inside you, and although he had allowed you to cum, you were feeling severely unsatisfied and just all around… needy? Was that the right word to use? You wanted them to touch you, to hold and to praise you. But for now, it seemed as if Kirishima was perfectly content to wait a while, leaving you standing by the couches as he flopped to sit, resting back against the armrest with his legs up casually on the cushions.

Nearly immediately, your dizzy gaze landed on the very obvious form of his cock beneath his joggers, reminding you immediately of what he had done to you on the dancefloor. Now that you could see it, your stomach fluttered with curiosity and interest, making you crave to have his cock in your hands. Walking over casually, you ignored his curious look as you took a moment to take off your shoes, before settling onto the couch between his legs. For the first time, you saw his cheeks flush, obviously having not expected you to suddenly be so handsy as you palmed along the hard length of his cock.

“What’s up, sweetheart? Can’t wait?”

“You’re… bigger than Katsuki?”

Your question was met with a chuckle, Kirishima’s grin breaking his face as he allowed you to touch him. “Don’t let him hear you admit that. Not by much, but yeah, sure. Take a look.”

With his permission, you pulled his pants down just enough to allow his cock to spring free, a shocked squeak nearly escaping your throat at the sight of him. It was true, he wasn’t any longer than Bakugou, but his girth was much more impressive. His flushed tip was pierced just as Bakugou’s had been, but he sported a bar through the underside of the blushing head that you recognized as a prince albert. For a moment, you wondered if all the band members had their dicks pierced, but that thought was quickly pushed to the back of your mind as his cock gave an impatient twitch.

Without much consideration of the consequences, you took it into your hands, beginning to lightly pump and spread his precum around the tip and down his shaft. Kirishima gave a relieved sigh at your touch, resting one arm behind his head so he could relax and watch you. “Ah fuck… that’s it, nice and slow. Why don’t you spit on it a little, huh?”

Leaning forward, you passionately rolled your tongue around his tip, before pulling back a bit and allowing your saliva to flow freely, using your hand to spread it down his length. The groan he gave made a smile creep across your lips as you sat back up from him, using both of your hands to stroke his cock with a firmer grip. “How’s that?”

“Incredible. Fuck, babe… Let me see those pretty tits, huh?”

Since your dress had low cut sleeves to begin with, it was easy for you to slip your arms out of them, before pulling the fabric down to expose your breasts to him. Not wearing a bra, they slipped easily from the tight dress, revealing your hard nipples and cute jeweled piercings. Leaning forward a bit closer to him, you continued to stroke his cock with the soft plushness of your chest around him, watching his face closely for any sign of approval. His usually smug or cheerful expression was hazed over with lust, crimson eyes watching your every move. He looked so cute and innocent, just like the man you had always seen on social media, and you loved that you had reduced him back to being his softer self just with a touch and a flash of your tits.

Scooting your hips back a bit and propping yourself up on your knees, you leaned in and took him fully into your mouth, starting with just a sweet tease to his tip before taking him all the way down to the base. Kirishima immediately groaned and tensed beneath you, his large hand coming down to rest on the back of your head, gathering up your hair to keep it out of the way for you. “Oh fuck, damn it! Look at you, taking my cock so well. Such a good girl-”

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening startled you both and you nearly gagged from the sudden pressure Kirishima put on the back of your head. Unable to move and unable to see, all you could do was listen to the booming voice from behind you while you tried to find some room to breathe with the cock down your throat.

“You horny fuckers couldn’t even wait until I got back?” Bakugou’s voice was followed by the sound of the door slamming shut, along with the click of the lock. “I spend all that fucking time down there getting drinks for us and you decide to fool around without me?!”

“Hey man, I didn’t start this! She wanted to suck my dick herself. Oh shit, sorry, sweetheart!” Kirishima released your head as you whined and wiggled to try and get yourself free, allowing you to come up. Coughing, you glowered up at Kirishima as you placed a hand over your throat, spitting the excess saliva that had gathered in your mouth onto his cock in retaliation.

“Oh did she?” Bakugou came up behind you, putting the drinks down on the table before taking a hold of your hair and pulling you back so you were looking up at him. “And what about that little show you put on against the windows? Whose idea was that?”

Your face flushed, stomach bubbling nervously as your fears that he could tell were confirmed. And yet, you only grew hotter, biting down onto your bottom lip as you peered up at him though your lashes. For a moment, you considered lying and saying that you had started it all, just to see what he would do, but the ever honest Kirishima spoke up first.

“I couldn’t help it, man. She has a nice ass. But I didn’t tell her to act all obvious, she just couldn’t control herself.”

“That’s because she’s nothing but a slut.” Still using his grip on your hair, Bakugou forced you back down so that your lips were pressed against the wet tip of Kirishima’s cock, not giving you any other choice but to open your mouth and take him in. Again, your head was forced all the way down to his pelvis, your nose pressing against his skin. As you whined, your eyes began to tear up from the pressure and uncomfortable presence deep in your throat, digging your nails into Kirishima’s hips to try and stop him from shifting beneath you.

Struggling to breathe through your nose, you could feel your dress being pushed up around your hips, Bakugou’s free hand gripping your ass and spreading you open with no regard for the stinging welts he had left earlier that night. “Fuck, what the hell are these? Did you expect to get fucked tonight, baby?” His rough fingers stroked along your lace panties, before pulling them down away from your hips and to your thighs. “Look how fucking wet you are, too. Did that moron make you cum?”

When he released your head, you pulled up slowly, gazing up at Kirishima to watch his flushed face and listen to his groans. Once your lips left him, you didn’t bother to spit or clean up the thick saliva and precum that dribbled from your tongue, using it to instead stroke him firmly with both hands. “Yes, Katsuki,” You choked out through your sore throat, arching your hips further up as Bakugou gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open to watch your twitching cunt. “He made me cum while you watched. While the whole club could see.”

“Did you like that I was watching?” Bakugou ran his thumb in slow circles against your clit. “Did that get you off, you nasty fuck?”

“Mm, yes-” Your pace quickened, almost hypnotized by the way Kirishima reacted to your touch as Bakugou teased you. “I loved it.”

“And how did he make you cum, huh?” The sound of a zipper and shifting clothing was lost behind his voice and the pounding in your ears. As your lips pressed against the tip of Kirishima’s cock to prepare to take him again, a moan interrupted you, your hips arching back up into Bakugou’s touch as two of his fingers slipped into your wet pussy. “Did he finger your slutty cunt?”

“Yes,” Spurred on by the pleasure, you ran your tongue up and down along Kirishima’s throbbing shaft, your free hand pushing his joggers further down out of the way so you could cup and massage his balls. Kirishima gave a grunt, reaching down to dig his fingers into your hair again.

“C’mon, sweetheart, tell him the truth.”

“The truth? Tch, I bet I know what he did.” Removing his fingers from within you, they both slid up to your asshole, sinking in with ease and making your entire body shudder with a moan. “Your ass, huh? I should have fucking known. Fine, then.” Shifting his hips closer, you could feel the presence of his cock between your cheeks when he removed his hand, gripping your hips instead. “Let me fill up this slutty little hole for you.”

Before you could truly ground yourself, the tip of his thick cock slipped into your asshole with just as much ease as his fingers, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Biting down onto your bottom lip as he sunk in inch by inch, you buried your face into Kirishima’s pelvis, your entire body trembling. Just as before, his size was more than you had ever taken before in either hole, and he left you feeling full and breathless.

“K-Katsuki--!”

“That’s right, babygirl. Moan my fucking name.” With a rough snap of his hips to start his quick pace, you cried out against Kirishima’s skin, your hand leaving his cock to instead dig your nails into his toned stomach. “How’s my fat cock feel, huh? Stretching your tight asshole-- ah fuck, baby!” As you constricted around him in response to the pleasure and his filthy mouth, he only fucked you faster and harder, his balls slapping against your clit and sending jolts of hot white pleasure through your body.

For a while, you were completely engrossed in the feeling of his cock inside you, until a smack of Kirishima’s cock to your cheek reminded you that he was still here, too. Although it was nearly impossible for you to hold back your voice, you sat up and took his cock into your mouth again, using the pleasure to push yourself harder to please him more aggressively.

“Ah shit! Damn!” Kirishima once again gripped onto your head, but with both hands this time. “Wait, wait! Hold still-” Using his grip on your head, he shifted his legs a bit, using new leverage to begin thrusting his hips up to fuck your mouth at his own pace. Completely at their mercy, you supported yourself with your arms against the couch, your eyes once again tearing up from the rough throat fucking and pleasure abusing your mind. The moans and filthy, lewd wet noises that came from your mouth were uncontrollable, as was the saliva and tears that coated Kirishima’s cock.

It was painful.

It was hot.

It was an absolute dream.

And yet, you wanted more. You wanted these men to completely destroy you, to leave you as nothing but a twitching mess leaking their cum.

“Want to swallow my cum, sweetheart?”

With Kirishima’s question, you found the chance to try and get your way, giving a miniscule shake of your head as you reached up to try and push his hands off you. Bakugou scoffed, not letting up on his pace.

“The fuck? Just cum, don’t ask her-”

“Shut up, man, she’s trying to say something,” Allowing you up off his cock, you took a moment to cough, which was difficult behind your urge to moan and gasp in air.

“I want both of your cocks inside me!” You finally choked out when you had a chance, gazing up at Kirishima with your flushed, teary and begging expression. “Please fill me up with both of your cocks! I need them!” A squeak escaped your lips as Bakugou grabbed you by the arms, pulling you up against his chest as his hand wrapped around your neck.

“Beg harder,” He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your breast as he fucked you harder. For a moment, your mind went blank with the pleasure, unsure of what you had even wanted outside of Bakugou’s dick buried so deep inside of you. The pleasure in your core was near cracking, and as you looked down at Kirishima to see him pumping his own cock at the sight of you being ruined, it only spiked higher.

“I want you to both fuck me! Please! Please, Katsuki, I’m begging you! I-- aah, fuck! Fuck!” Leaning your head back, it wasn’t another second before you came hard, your body tensing in his grip and rocking back against his hips as they also came to a stop from how hard you squeezed around him. Giving a low growl in satisfaction, Bakugou held your body tightly back against him, digging his cock as deep into you as he could get with a light bucking of his hips.

“Oh fuck, babygirl, that’s it. Such a naughty bitch, cumming from being fucked in the ass like that. And you still want more, huh?” Bakugou spoke low in your ear, and although you were beyond high on the release, you found it within yourself to nod.

Smirking against your cheek, Bakugou removed his cock from you. “Fine then.” While you were still trying to regain control of your dizzy mind, he gave you a rough nudge, forcing your weak and trembling body to fall forward onto Kirishima. The redhead caught you by the arms to help you steady yourself, giving an annoyed huff as he guided you up to straddle his hips.

“Watch it, man! She could have crushed my dick, then I’d be outta luck!”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m sick of waiting, if you don’t get a move on, I’m kicking your fucking ass out of here.”

“Boys, boys.” You pushed yourself up on your arms so you were balanced on all fours, smiling down at Kirishima through your lustful haze. “There’s no need to argue.” Reaching down between your bodies, you took hold of Kirishima’s cock, holding it steady as you ran your dripping wet sex along it, teasing your sensitive clit. “I’m here for you both to use me. As much as you want.” Looking back over your shoulder, you caught Bakugou’s glare, though it quickly flicked back down to your hips as you began to lower yourself down onto Kirishima’s cock, letting him slip into your pussy slowly. “You like watching, Katsuki?”

Bakugou scoffed, his face flushing. “You’d better fucking watch it, whore. Don’t forget who owns your stupid ass.”

“But I love it when you watch me,” You let out an airy moan as Kirishima filled you up all the way to the base, not leaving a single inch of you untouched. “Just to know that I turn you on so much without even having to touch you. Even if it’s another man… Even if it’s Kiri’s fat cock inside me. It makes me so happy, Katsuki.” Steading yourself with your hands against Kirishima’s stomach, you began to roll your hips, sighing and cursing softly from the pleasure. “Fuck, so big! Both of your cocks are so big and perfect!”

As Kirishima gripped onto your hips tightly, he was immediately taken over by the euphoria he felt being buried so deep within your wet pussy, using his strength to guide your body to start bouncing on his cock instead. “That’s it, sweetheart. Fuck, your pussy is so tight!” It wasn’t another few seconds before he couldn’t resist thrusting his hips up into you, holding you steady as he ravaged your wet and clenching cunt at his own pace. He was hard and rough, slamming into you like a man starved, desperate for the pleasure and release he craved. “You’re such a perfect little slut.”

Now forced to lean forward, weak arms propping you up on either side of his body, you allowed him to fuck you as he wished, each slam of his tip against your cervix blurring your vision with white sparks of pleasure. The way his thick cock filled you up and his piercing rubbed against your inner walls was building up your pleasure so rapidly that your body became completely weak, arms collapsing under you until you were laying on his chest. Somehow, you found the mental focus to look over your shoulder, your body flushing hotter at the sight of Bakugou eagerly pumping his own cock, his glare locked on the way that Kirishima was using you.

“Ka- Katsuki,” You choked out through your moans, doing everything you could to keep hold of your mind for just a moment longer. “Please watch me while I cum! Please! A-ah! Kiri, w-wait, I--!” As the redhead grew rougher with you, there wasn’t anything you could do to hold back the pleasure any longer, and your orgasm ripped through your body like a spark of lightning, making your entire body tense and tremble. “Fuck! Fucking hell, that fat cock is so fucking good!”

“Damn right it is, sweetheart.” Kirishima landed a hard smack to your currently unmarked asscheek. “You like being fucked by big cocks?”

“Yes… I’ve never had cocks like this though…” You turned your face more into the skin of his chest, ignoring the sweat and drool. “Both of you… So perfect…”

“We aren’t even done with you yet, sweetheart.” Taking hold of your ass in both hands, Kirishima spread you open, addressing the blond that still sat behind you, who was oddly quiet and patient. “C’mon, man. Let’s give her what she really wants.”

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at the fact that Kirishima was holding your cheeks apart, your pussy still stuffed with his cock and your asshole twitching in anticipation. Looking over your shoulder again, you caught Bakugou’s gaze, the pleading expression in your eyes instantly bringing a wicked and excited smirk to his lips. That initial embarrassment spiked, holding your breath as Bakugou came in closer, taking over the task of holding your ass open.

The tip of his cock, hot and blushing with the need for his own release, teased your tight, unoccupied hole, the feeling of his frenum piercing rolling across your skin bringing a whimper from your throat. You wanted it so much that it was nearly painful to have to wait like this. You felt powerless in the situation, only able to wait for them to decide to begin, and the anticipation was making your stomach flutter and roll. The butterflies escaped your lips with the sound of a small plea, barely audible even by you, but Bakugou was quick to take notice.

“What’s that, babygirl?”

“P-please…” You pushed the word out with your strangled breath, still watching him from over your shoulder. “Please don’t make me keep waiting!” You bit down onto your bottom lip as his thumb rolled over the waiting hole, teasingly dipping it in to the first knuckle. “Mm... Katsuki--” A sharp gasp escaped your lips as he landed a rough spank to your already bruised and abused cheek from earlier that night in the dressing room, the spike of pain making your body tense. Kirishima groaned and wiggled beneath you, his hips bucking lightly impatiently as your core squeezed tightly around him in reaction to the pain.

“Aah fuck! Shit, sweetheart, don’t squeeze so tight like that, it’s hard enough not to fuck your brains out right now.”

“What’s the matter? She’s too tight for ya?” Bakugou landed another hard, full palmed smack to your ass, forcing a sharp moan from your lips and your tensing body bringing Kirishima into another series of squirming. “I’m surprised you’re still in this, you’re usually a two-pump chump!” Then, the instant your body calmed, he shoved his entire length into you in one fell swoop, his hips meeting with the red plushness of your ass. “Fuck… How can she be such a perfect little slut?”

The sudden feeling of being so full knocked all the air out of your lungs, your back arching to try to accommodate them both, digging your nails into the fabric of the couch. Your mind was so overwhelmed with the pressure that you could barely hear Kirishima snapping back at Bakugou for the insult he had given him, only hearing the sound of his voice without comprehending words. They were both buried so deep inside you that you worried you might split apart if they started moving, and with that realization, another came to the front of your dizzy mind.

You’ve never had two dicks inside you at the same time.

Never.

With how excited and desperate you had been for it, the men must have assumed that you had and weren’t going to go easy on you. You wanted to speak, to say anything to tell them the truth, but you found it nearly impossible to pull enough air into your lungs to speak. They were about to absolutely ruin you, and you wondered in that moment if you’d be able to take it, or if you’d beg for mercy with the first thrust.

It was Kirishima who moved first, thrusting his hips upwards slow and shallow, forcing a cry from your throat and your eyes to clench shut, hiding in his chest. “Shh, sweetheart, we got you.” Since Bakugou was holding onto your hips, Kirishima’s hands were free to caress you, one on your side and the other on the back of your head. With his tender touch, however, came longer strokes of his cock inside you, the overwhelming presence pushing tears from behind your closed eyelids. “Just breathe.”

Bakugou, however, was not as merciful. He picked up on Kirishima’s rhythm, pulling himself all the way out to the tip before plunging back into your tense and constricting asshole. Bakugou hissed, digging his fingers into your plush hips, his blunt nails stinging your skin. “Fucking hell, babygirl, you’re just sucking me right in. Damn-!” A groan escaped him as he picked up his pace, your body starting to rock between them as the skin of his pelvis slapped against your red and abused cheeks.

“A-ah, Katsuki-!” You nearly screamed out in shock, though your face was still buried into Kirishima’s chest. “Not so fast! Please!”

“Oh no, babe. You begged for this. We’re giving you exactly what you asked for.”

As if picking up on a cue, Kirishima also increased his pace, until they were both thrusting into you as deep as they could possibly get, hard and fast. Though, with their increased pace came a new feeling washing over you, pushing past the dull, uncomfortable pain. They were filling up every inch of you, caressing you and staying as perfectly in sync as they could, doing everything they could to pleasure you. And that was all you could feel.

The pleasure.

It pulsed through every inch of you like shockwaves, sending it rocketing up your body and down your limbs. There was no other word that you could think of to describe it besides “perfect”, and you knew that there would never be another set of men in your entire life that could make you feel this way. That could use you like this, making you feel so vulnerable yet adored at the same time. No matter the reason, these two men who you loved dearly, wanted you.

And damn, you were happy.

“Fuck, yes-!” You finally choked out, finding a smidgen of strength to allow you to prop yourself up on your elbows. Still, your head hung slack, your tear-filled eyes rolled up and mouth open with unending moans. “Your cocks feel so good inside me!”

“There she is,” Deep groan reverberating in his chest from your encouragement, Bakugou increased his place, giving you another firm slap on the ass. “That’s right, you slut. Now tell me who you belong to.”

“You! You, Katsuki-!”

“-And?”

“-Kiri! I belong to both of you! I’m your little slut, please do whatever you want with me! Just please don’t stop, I want to feel your cum inside me!”

If you were honest, you weren’t sure how long they ravaged you like this. You came again, before your body was just too overly stimulated, and all you could do was lay there against Kirishima’s chest, moaning and trembling constantly. There wasn’t a rational or clear thought in your head, only able to focus on their dicks inside you, and their increasingly loud moans and grunts.

They were getting close.

“Fucking shit-” Bakugou was barely able to get the curse out before his hips began to shutter, his thrusts becoming erratic and shallow until he released inside of you, the hot feeling of his cum pulling you back into full consciousness. You peeked at him over your shoulder the best you could through your wild hair, finding his flushed, sweaty, and satisfied image endearing. You felt so empty with his exit, but you didn’t have much time to focus on that, as Kirishima immediately scooped you up and flipped you both over so you were beneath him.

Smirk on his lips, he bent your legs back up to your chest, his pace and depth only increasing and sending you into another round of incoherent moans.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty face when I fill you up with my cum.”

Clutching onto his arms tightly, your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes stayed locked on the way his hips moved, almost hypnotized by the sight of his cock slamming in and out of your abused cunt. The veiny girth that was absolutely coated in your slick found no resistance, and with this new visual paired with the feeling of rapid dragging along your clenching walls, you could feel another orgasm peaking fast. “K-Kiri-!”

“Going to cum on my fat cock again, huh? Go on- Ah, oh fuck-!” A hiss escaped through his teeth as you came, your entire body quivering, cunt clenching around him and head leaning back. Your moans hitched and shook uncontrollably, unsure of exactly how loud you were as your mind fogged over with the endless waves of pleasure paired with the new heat that flooded your core with Kirishima’s release. The redhead that pinned you down was rough with his release, his hips rutting against yours with sharp snaps and deep grinding, which only prolonged your release until you were nothing but a limp, trembling mess.

“Look at you. You’re so damn pretty.” Kirishima’s voice barely registered in your mind, as did the clicking sound of a phone taking pictures. “Bakugou, come hold her legs back.”

Your teary gaze landed on Bakugou as he came to stand near your head, taking your calves into his hands and pulling them back so you were further contorted. With the movement, Kirishima removed his cock from within you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, though the heat of his cum leaking out of you was very noticeable. With a whine as your knees were pressed on either side of your head, you weakly gripped onto Bakugou’s hands, looking up at him with exhausted, innocent curiosity. Fluffy blonde hair stuck to his face that was coated with sweat, Bakugou smirked down at you, glancing over every inch of your body.

“Fuck babygirl, you should see yourself. You’re a mess.”

You swallowed hard against your dry and aching throat, smiling softly as your hand traveled up and down his forearm tenderly. “All… all for you.” The sound of the phone's camera going off finally got your attention and you looked at Kirishima instead, your stomach fluttering nervously at the sight of him snapping pictures of your body. “P-pictures…?”

“I’ve never seen a pussy this pretty, sweetheart. And it’s just dripping with my jizz… Your ass is, too, with your cheeks all fucking red from Bakugou spanking you. You’re a damn masterpiece, baby. I should have recorded this whole thing.” Obviously filming now, Kirishima ran his thumb from your asshole up along your cunt and to your clit, dragging the mess of cum with him. After a few teasing rolls of your clit, he brought his thumb up to your mouth, not even having to say a word before you opened wide to suck the digit clean. “Damn that’s hot.”

“Save that recording shit for later. There will be plenty to shoot back at the hotel. Right, babygirl?” Bakugou released your legs, allowing you to close them and rest them comfortably to the side. Once your mouth was free of Kirishima’s fingers, you licked your lips, eyes locked on your celebrity crush as he gazed down at you expectantly.

Any rational thought that should have peaked in your mind was smothered by a screaming need to stay with him, to do whatever he wanted just so that you could be in his presence for as long as possible. Before you knew it, you were up on trembling knees, turning to face him and timidly clutching on tightly to the front of his shirt. “Yes, Katsuki. Anything you want.”

“That’s right,” Bakugou pulled you in closer, latching his arms around your torso and kissing you with a gentle passion that sent your heart racing. “You’ll do anything for me.”

“And for me.” Kirishima came up to press himself against your back, his hands tightly on your hips as he kissed your cheek playfully. You couldn’t resist a soft giggle from escaping your lips, both of your arms wrapping around Bakugou’s torso tightly.

“Mm, yes! Anything for both of you-”

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hey, are you three done in there yet!? Hurry up! We have girls and more drinks, and I have to piss!”

“The couches better still be clean!”

Kirishima chuckled, releasing you with a final pat to your backside before hopping up and fixing his clothes back into proper place. “Shit, sorry, just a sec!”

Bakugou, however, didn’t bother responding to them, kissing you again tenderly while pulling your dress back down to cover your hips. “I hope you’re ready, babygirl.”

“For what?”

“The afterparty is just getting started. I hope that partying with your favorite band will be everything you ever dreamed of.”

“As long as I get to be close to you, Katsuki, I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

“That’s my good girl.”

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naomifj97 · 2 years

Text

It's nice to have a friend

"Amity Blight had forgotten what having a friend was until Luz Noceda arrived at the Isles."

Onsehot, Amity-centric, canon-compliant (except when its’s not) Lumity songfic, featuring “Friends” trope and the tag #GiveAmityABackpack because, really, this girl needs one.

Inspired by It’s nice to have a friend by Taylor Swift.

So, I actually wrote this during the hiatus between s2A and s2B and never got to post it here, but since "King's tide" absolutely DESTROYED me, I figured we all could use a light-hearted fic. For obvious reasons, this is canon compilant until "Knock, knock, knockin' on Hooty's door"; after that is a bit of AU.

Enjoy! (Also, please, excuse typos and grammar mistakes, English is not my first language).

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

“Wanna hang out?”

Yeah, sounds like fun

The bell’s scream is high-pitched, loud and annoying. It echoes through the corridors and almost every single student in Hexside welcomes it with joy and delight, picking up their things between laughs and wails.

Amity, however, lets out a quiet, veiled sigh against her uniform’s collar.

It’s time to go home, but she doesn’t really want to. She knows her mother is going to pester her about the tiny slump on her school performance, that her father won’t make the slightest attempt at raising his eyes from his work desk while her mother berates her, that she will have to listen and nod grimly, not having the option to defend herself.

Amity is not in a hurry to live that. So, she delays the task of gathering her things on purpose, slowly organizing and piling up her books until they form a perfect pile over her table. She knows it’s an almost compulsive habit, but she can’t help it.

Class is almost empty by the time she leaves the room with her pile of books in her arms. Amity walks down crowded hallways, cramped with noise and students of different classes waiting for their friends to make plans for the afternoon or, simply, to go home in company.

No one is waiting for her. Ed and Em have skipped class, Cat, Skara and Amelia have planned to meet to go to the market together, and Amity would prefer to rip her ears off before having to listen to Boscha talking about grudgby and her self-centered-bully bullshit for the whole way home. To be honest, Amity prefers going alone and in silence. So, when she runs into the back of the aforementioned, just after turning around the corner, the youngest Blight violently stops in her tracks and purposedly avoids her. She even walks backwards comically and very slowly so Boscha doesn’t notice her.

In her crab-like walking, Amity passes by the lockers and stops before her own because she’s kinda just remembered she has to take home vol. 7 of “Abominations’ behavior”. She bounces and struggles to hold onto the pile of books in her arms while getting her arm on her locker’s and taking the damn chunky book before the huge mouth of her cubby rips out her arm, but that turns out to be a very bad idea. And Amity realizes when the until then perfectly, well-ordered pile of books between her arm and her chest fumbles and crumbles, slipping over her uniform and falling to the floor one by one with a huge fuss.

To add humiliation to infortune, her locket decides to spit out a winter glove that, for some reason Amity can’t really recall, was being kept inside. It stays right there, crowning the disaster of books spilled over the floor, like the cherry on top of a destroyed cake, as if making fun of her.

She’s a bit tempted to kick them, but losing her composure is unproper of a Blight. And lately, Amity is being losing it too much. So she just huffs, grunts and groans before kneeling, angrily thinking that she needs a backpack urgently. She’s busy ruminating her disgraces to herself when, out of the blue, someone kneels before her and hands her the unpaired glove.

—Hi, Amity! Looked like you could use…a hand.

Maybe it’s the way she makes a small pause before saying the word “hand”. Or maybe the fact that she’s said it while shaking the glove in front of her nose. Or maybe it’s that stupid face she’s making as she speaks (eyes half-shut, raised eyebrow and lips tense of holding back a laughter), as she has said the wittiest joke in the world.

The point is Amity chuckles.

Luz Noceda has those perks.

—Hi, Luz. Thanks —Amity replies, taking the glove and unceremoniously throwing it into the depths of her locker once again.

Luz takes that laugh as a small personal triumph. It has not gone unnoticed to her that Amity is a bit down, that she’s being down the whole day. And Luz Noceda is not the kind of girl who lets her friends be down. She’s gonna cheer Amity up even if it’s the last thing she does (that day). She’s thinking on a way to do it when the solution passes right in front of her nose. Or, well, her hands, as she’s helping her friend picking up her books.

—Oh, abominations’ behavior! I should get to that, actually… —she runs a hand over the back of her neck, ashamed, with a small chuckle dorkily adorable—. The other day one of mine threw themselves over the stairs and stained them with goo, even if I had ordered them to roll over the hall and not the stairs. Principal Bump was not happy.

Amity reminds the incident well enough. She’s still deciding if the funniest thing had been the expression of absolute happiness of the abomination as they rolled over the stairs, Bump’s frown or Luz’s face of desperation and utter panic as she ran after the mass screaming something similar to “No! Don’t roll like a croqueta!” (whatever that was).

—I remember. I think he was debating between crying or resign directly.

Luz looks at her with a huge smile, a dorky one that makes Amity feel her stomach tinkle. Suddenly, the human’s eyes illuminate as she had just come up with the best plan in the whole universe.

—Amity! You’re the best in abominations’ class. You wanna come to the Owl House a while and study together? Only you can help me to understand…this —she adds, pouting, still holding the textbook.

Amity has only been to the Owl House once, after almost turning Willow’s brain into abomination goo. She knows she should say no, knows she has too much to do, too much schoolwork to catch on.

But she doesn’t want to go home, and Eda’s house has something welcoming in between all that havoc of messiness, and Luz is kind, and funny, and Amity would have never guessed it, but she enjoys the human’s company.

So, she accepts.

And Luz smiles, more than just happy, grabs half of the pile of Amity’s books and starts walking beside her (“Jeez, girl! Has anyone ever told you you need a backpack?”). They fill the silence with theories about the forthcoming sixth Azura book: Luz is certain Hecate will end up changing sides after a long redemption path; Amity is not so sure about that.

Luz takes the disagreement almost as a personal affront and spends more than half the way to Eda’s exposing her case. Amity finds enthralling the passion she speaks and moves with, how she defends her theories and the certainty that always seems to emanate from her every single cell, from every word, from every gesture.

Not taking her eyes off the human, the youngest Blight smiles.

And, as they walk, Amity thinks it’s nice to have a friend.

Video games, you pass me a note

Sleeping in tents

It’s nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

Amity has never given dating too much thought. It just wasn’t something that lingered in her plans for a future.

But then Luz arrived to Bonesborough, and Amity tried to get her dissected by principal Bump, and then that human who absurdly tried to pass as an abomination like that was going to fool anyone anyway, turned out to be funny, chaotic and unpredictable in the most charming way.

And so everything became extremely confusing.

Amity doesn’t get along with chaos. She likes things neatly in order and well-placed, situations she can handle, and things going according to plan.

She already has a plan. Had one.

And Luz was not in it.

But, suddenly, as days pass, Amity finds herself getting closer to the human; suddenly, her plans start mattering less and less every time; suddenly, wearing a “top-student” star on her lapel is not what makes her get up on the morning.

And, suddenly, Grom it’s just a few days away and the note burns inside her pocket as if it was on fire.

She doesn’t dare. She can’t give it to her.

Because it’s nice to have a friend, it’s too nice, and Amity does not want to, nor can, risk to lose her.

So, she keeps the note on her pocket and tries to ignore its presence against her hip with all she has.

An hour later, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because now Amity is Grom Queen and her worst fear is going to be widely cut open for all the school to see.

For Luz to see.

It’s being nice to have a friend.

It’s nice to have a friend

(Ooh)

The next night arrives. And her fears no longer matter, because Luz has jumped straight to occupy her place, because Luz is in danger, and Amity does not even think twice before going after Grom and step in, between the monster and the human that has slowly won her heart.

Her worst fear comes to light, as the most terrible pollution daunting the night’s air.

Amity can’t move. She’s sure she’s been turned to stone. The sound of torn paper rumbles in her ears louder than it should be, because, after all, it’s just a damn sheet of paper. But to her is thunder, one she’s sure she won’t ever forget. Her chest hurts, breathing hurts. Her eyes feel itchy when she kneels and picks up one of the fragments, the smaller one, in which she can backlight read Luz’s name.

Oh, Luz. Luz, who kneels and picks the opposite end of the paper, who reads quickly and suddenly understands everything…or almost everything. Luz, who reaches towards her, Luz, who says it’s okay. Luz, who tells her that, if she wants to, will go with her to the dance.

Amity’s heart jumps on her chest.

—Really?

Titan, Luz Noceda’s smile is almost a wonder of the Isles.

—That’s what friends do.

Amity smiles back, ignoring the tiny pinch of pain in her chest at the word “friends”, because that’s what they are.

Friends. They are friends.

The witch then banishes the feeling of rejection in favor of a warmer one that initiates in her chest and spreads through her whole body, cooed in the calm Luz’s eyes ignite.

Be brave, Amity Blight.

It’s a night to be.

—Well, if that’s settled… May I have this dance?

With a mischievous smile, Luz takes her hand and Amity suddenly feels she could kick the mighty Titan’s ass.

They defeat Grom together, hands tied and a perfectly improvised dance, and they dance a few more times, and Luz drags her to get a picture together because “We haven’t beaten a legendary monster for you not to take a photo with me tonight, Amity!”.

And Amity laughs, and enjoys the night more than anything, and stares at Luz like she’s all that matters in all realms.

Because they are friends, but how she would love to be more.

It’s nice to have a friend

Oh…

Luz Noceda is out of her mind.

Amity has suspected it for a while now, after seeing her facing Boscha, the very same Emperor and her terrifying mother. But when the human, that sweet, stubborn, beautiful, frustrating, amazing human shows up at her house, clothes ragged, smelling like smoke and with her library staff card in her hands, Amity is surer than ever that Luz Noceda is bloody nuts.

Nuts, nuts, damn it, absolutely nuts (and what’s that about taming a paper dragon?).

And Amity is head over heels for her.

So much she does not even think about what she’s doing, what she’s about to do. Wind ruffles Luz’s hair, brings Amity the scent of her hair and a slight hint of scorch, and then the witch ceases having direct line with her brain. The feeling of brunt plastic on her fingers reminds her Luz is there for her. And what she’s done for her.

The kiss on the cheek is quick. Just a tiny caress between her lips and Luz’s skin, which is as soft as Amity had imagined.

The kiss is quick and, at the moment, not confusing at all.

Confusing comes later, when Luz stares wide-eyed at her after letting out a surprised breathing in, reddened cheeks and parted lips. Her pupils dilate (that’s okay on humans, right?), her eyes glisten…and then her gaze lingers on Amity’s lips, on those very same lips in the witch still can feel the warmth and the tingle of the young human’s skin.

But she does not react.

Oh, no.

OH, NO.

Amity is not quite sure of what she says then, because all the blood in her body suddenly congregates on her face. Her tongue gets tangled on the “Why did I do that?” during minutes, while she hastily enters her house and collapses on the hall, and nothing, not even Ed’s chuckles or Em’s words of encouragement, manage to get her move away, face against arms and back towards the door.

She knows there is no turning back because friends don’t kiss on the cheek, do they?

No, they don’t.

A few days later, Hooty kidnaps Amity and locks her on some kind of basement no one on the Owl House had noticed before. Then, the youngest Blight stars in the most picturesque love confession the Boiling Isles has ever seen, because, opposite to what her panic attack had suggested her that night on her house’s porch, Luz does reciprocate her feelings.

Until that moment, Amity didn’t know one could burst of happiness. Now, she’s not so sure about that. Luz and her hold hands and Amity is sure she’s gonna explode, certain she can’t get her face to be redder, convinced that she’s happier than she’s ever been in her whole life. She knows her palms are sweating and her heart is beating hard against her ribs. It’s new, and terrifying, and wonderful.

They spent hours together, sitting on the floor of the Owl House, taking notes on the revelations they get from the echo mouse. Well, Luz takes notes. Amity just stares at her with tender eyes and a smile on her lips, memorizing how Luz sticks out her tongue while she focuses on writing every word, how the brown locks fall over her forehead, how her eyes gleam with that curiosity of hers.

Amity Blight is very, very much in love with her best friend.

No.

Not friend.

Girlfriend.

They are girlfriends now.

Light pink sky up on the roof

Sun sinks down, no curfew

Twenty questions, we tell the truth

You’ve been stressed out lately? Yeah, me too

Something gave you the nerve

To touch my hand

It’s nice to have a friend

They’ve been together for three months when all hell breaks loose.

Belos tries to kill everyone, they face him and the emperor loses on the Day of Unity.

Afterwards, calm arrives. Or almost.

They have made the greatest party ever seen on the Owl House. They have celebrated all they have achieved and more, and now everyone is dragged. Eda is soundly snoring on the couch while Rain snoozes at her side; King has curled up in an adorable ball in Luz’s room and Hooty is pestering Lilith to catch on while Hunter pretends to be bored when he’s, actually, exhausted. Willow and Gus leave with Ed and Em a few hours away from dawn.

Amity stays, because she’s not just going to return home after everything that has happened.

Eda doesn’t seem to mind taking her in; she’s done it already for weeks, and the Owl Lady has barely batted an eye while the purple-haired witch gradually slipped into the house’s daily routines. Even King seems to enjoy having her there. So, Amity is staying. Besides, she wants to relish every single moment with Luz before she has to return to the Human Realm.

It’s just for a while, and the portal works, so they are gonna see each other often, and they have their thingies to text, and Luz will probably spend more hours there than in her mother’s house, but, despite all that, Amity can feel the panic gulping on her stomach and rushing up her throat, making breathing hard.

The night is calm, the air is gentle there, at the Owl House’s roof; Amity hides in the silence and the darkness that surrounds them, in the small bubble Luz has created with her glyphs, dozens of tingling spheres dancing around them isolating them from the rest of the world. The witch nuzzles against her girlfriend’s side, warm and welcoming, buries the nose on the skin of her neck and breathes in deeply. Luz smells like a mix of sugar, paper, ink and something that is inherently hers, and Amity feels at home. Her heart soothes lightly, her angst apparently retreating; Amity is thankful, because she does not want to spend what’s left of the night anticipating something she knows will make her sad.

But Luz notices, because Luz always notices. She tugs at the blanket surrounding them both, as butterflies on their cocoons, and hugs her tightly. Suddenly, her lips are on the young witch’s hair, her hands on the purple-haired girl waist and there’s a telling blush on her cheeks. She tells her not to worry, that she will be back in no time, that it will only be for a while and that Amity is “gonna have to try harder to get rid of her”, making the witch chuckling sarcastically because how in the name of hell is she going to want to get rid of Luz? And, almost as if she can read her mind, Luz gives her a breathtaking wink and nuzzles the tip of her nose with the witch’s one, before getting lost in Amity’s eyes.

Words arrive without anticipation.

—I love you, Amity Blight.

Amity blushes to the hairline. She is paralyzed; blinks once, twice, opens her mouth, not knowing what to say, or do, or how to react, because, Titan, Luz Noceda has just told her she loves her.

Luz blushes, too, but her nervousness is never silent. So, the human lets out a small chuckle, half jokes about having broken her girlfriend, but, before she can enter on the spiral of fussy rambling, Amity raises a hand (a frozen one, by the way, because of them both she’s the cold-sensitive one) to her cheek and replies with unexpected calmness and domain of herself:

—I love you too, Luz.

And Luz beams, shining brighter than her glyphs, the stars and the dawn that peeks timidly over the horizon. She smiles and hugs her tighter, and Amity feels loved, worshipped, happy. And brave.

Her frozen fingers reach the human girl’s mouth; in her eyes there is a question that Luz answers with a tiny nod and a kiss to her tips.

When their lips meet, Amity thinks she will wait all the time she has to.

And Luz promises the wait will be short-lived.

Call my bluff, call you “babe”

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Feels like home

Stay in bed the whole weekend

It’s nice to have a friend

Luz snores.

Amity would have never supposed it, neither would have thought about it before knowing, but after months, years, hours and some moments of insomnia, she knows Luz Noceda snores. It’s a hoarse, constant, tiny noise, made with the base of the throat and accompanied by a soft “mmmm” when breathing out. Something kinda like a purr, and, to her surprise, Amity finds it weirdly adorable.

The witch remembers cheerfully the first night they spent together, after Luz permanently moved in the Isles when she turned eighteen: Amity spent more than half the night awake, fearing falling sleep in case her human would be nowhere to be found when she woke up and everything turned out to be a dream. Eventually, she did fall asleep, of course, out of pure exhaustion, but was woken up by Luz’s snores by dawn.

Maybe that’s why Amity is quite fond of her human’s snores. They convinced her that was real, that they had a life together ahead of them, that she was there and was never leaving again.

A new little noise coming from Luz, mouth half-open in deep slumber, takes Amity back to the present, to those first hours of the day and the few rays of sun that sneak lazily through the colored window. They are still occupying Eda and Raine’s attic, but they are already thinking about moving to a small house just for the two of them. Amity does not want a mansion, not even for all the snails in the universe.

It’s still early, very early. It has barely begun to break dawn, but old habits die hard, so Amity is awake. It doesn’t matter. She can stay like this, watching how Luz sleeps soundly at her side, feeling the heat emanating from her girlfriend’s body as if she had casted some kind of fire spell, feeling how she purrs every time she breathes.

The sun is starting to caress Luz’s dark skin, her shoulders and cheeks, those brown locks that fall carelessly over her forehead. Amity brushes them off with a lovingly touch that’s barely more than a brush, and Luz, as if she can feel her from the oneiric world, mumbles in satisfaction, melting the witch on a puddle right there on the mattress. Unable to help herself, Amity cuddles against the human and places a small kiss on her clavicle, exposed due to the oversized pajama t-shirt. Without waking up, Luz encloses her in her arms and takes her in, making a new little noise that tears a small chuckle out of Amity’s lips, places her chin on top of the witch’s head and keeps sleeping without the slightest worry.

And Amity is happy. Incredibly happy.

On that very same moment, on a dusty attic, sharing a very tiny bed with her girlfriend and during the most peaceful moment in her life, Amity Blight makes a choice.

She’s gonna marry her girlfriend someday.

It’s nice to have a friend

A/N: Not my best work, I'm aware of that, but I hope you liked it. I just love this series, and I love this two. THEY ARE GIRLFRIENDS, WORLD.

#lumity #luz x amity #amity blight #luz noceda #toh #toh fanfic #toh fanfiction #toh fic #toh spoilers #the owl house #GiveAmityABackpackPls

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pudgecuddles · 3 years

Text

tw discourse, heavy negativity, community meta

I’ve been seeing some pretty blatant kink shaming going on here for a while now and have just about had it.

It’s disguised as well-meaning, social advocacy and the occasional off-handed comment or tag. It’s phrased in a way that would make you the bad guy if you spoke out against it. Or even brought up the outright HYPOCRISY.

We are all here because we jack off to erotica of a boy band being gay and getting fat. No one is inherently better than anyone else here.

Some of us like farting, some of us like piss.

No one is above anyone morality wise.

And yet, I have been seeing asks and posts and reblogs and tags saying some stuff that rubs me the wrong fucking way.

This sentiment:

“Writing these characters as being in an abusive relationship is unhealthy, toxic and problematic.”

And

“Writing these characters like this is so dehumanizing and gross.”

Has the same fucking energy as:

“You do know that purposely gaining weight is unhealthy and abusive right?”

And

“How dare you write BTS weight gain stories! These are real people you’re hurting by doing this!”

Honey…

It’s a kink.

It’s a fetish.

Hell, it’s the only fucking thing I can get off to.

What happened to people advocating against kink-shaming? Where did this shitty divide in the community come from?

And don’t you fucking say “some accounts”, because cut the bullshit we all know who you’re talking about when you say that. She knows it too.

You’re not being subtle, you’re not being clever. You’re very publicly disowning a fucking foundation of this community.

And since y’all are so fucking afraid to say her name, I’ll say it for you.

@taeslovehandles

There. Not so fucking hard. Or maybe, it was just easy for me because I treat her like a fucking human with feelings beyond her porn or kinks. Someone who’s been told to her face that they don’t want to be associated with her, or even look at her milder content. That fucking COMMUNICATING with her was distasteful.

People she liked. People she looked up to. People that then TURN AROUND and make vague as fuck call out posts about “certain accounts” and “dark content”.

She sees this you know. She sees every fucking word because guess what? You’re so damn obvious.

The accounts that left or deactivated because “some accounts” were introducing “uncomfortable content”. That the “atmosphere has changed” and that it’s “just not the same”.

Everyone knows you’re talking about her. People are just too polite or two-faced to say it out loud.

Fun fucking fact?! @taeslovehandles doesn’t post her stories on Tumblr. She posts them on Ao3.

So stop acting like she’s polluting pure waters because 1) her content’s in a different lake and 2) these waters ain’t pure in the first place.

So, since it’s not her that’s the problem, what is?

Could it be… the mob mentality that emerges whenever given the chance?

Maybe the misplaced performative activism you use to cover up your very public cyber-bullying?

Or is it the fact that people are treating this community, built off of the backs of porn writers, as a standard for moral superiority?

Whatever the fuck it is, stop.

Fucking stop.

You are literally only hurting people. We come here to not be judged, scorned, whispered about, or hell, put on public trial for what turns us on. This is supposed to be a place where we can conscientiously create and share things that get us off with like minded people who won’t dox us for “ruining the boy’s image”.

If you really don’t like dark content, and can’t bring yourself to follow an account that even posted it once, block them! It’s great! If you don’t like dark content but you enjoy the other stuff the person posts, block the tags you don’t like! Easy to skip past!

But whatever you do, don’t act like a bunch of middle schoolers who don’t like that that one girl showed up to lunch eating something you’re allergic to when she doesn’t sit at your table and doesn’t shove her PB&J in your face.

Don’t transfer schools because just knowing that there is peanut butter in the cafeteria ruins it forever for you.

Don’t whisper about how “inconsiderate some peanut eaters” are when you all eat shellfish yourself.

Especially don’t do so when sitting behind her in history, or when walking past her in the hallway. Even if she washes her hands every single time.

And when she says “Hi!” between classes, or gives you a gift for your birthday, don’t tell her to go away because you don’t want her peanut hands touching you.

Even though she washes her hands. Even though she wipes down her table. Even though she uses a separate trash can.

She’s not a peanut.

She’s a person with feelings.

She has every right to attend this school too.

She has every right to not be shamed into sitting alone, or eating something she doesn’t like, or can’t afford every day.

So, remember the fucking human before you jerk off your justice boner, why doncha?

#pudgepersonal #negative #she’s my fucking friend you assholes #I’m so sick of the almost panic attacks #that I get after seeing thinks I’m into being shamed #I’m not one for abuse or pain of any kind #but goddamn I love dehumanization and feminization and dumbification #shut up with your vague call-outs #it’s been a fucking year of this shit #grow up #discourse #tw discourse #bts feederism

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abundanceofnots · 4 years

Note

Ficlet idea: Now that Mickey’s using kevs gym he’s been giving guys tips from his prison workouts. Ian is NOT happy about the level of attention he gets when he stops by one day

(You can read this fic here, or on AO3.)

So, the KevFit membership was still a thing. Cool.

And, okay, listen. It wasn’t that Ian minded Mickey going to the gym. Of course, he didn’t. It was just the way this whole thing came to be that Ian wouldn’t call ideal.

Mickey liked to say Ian body-shamed him into working out, and frankly, Ian could see why he would.

They gave each other shit all the time. Laughed about hairy toes, prodded at each other’s saggy parts. And when they were both in the right headspace, it was just that—provoking banter. But Mickey, being the sensitive creature that he was, sometimes took it too close to heart.

And yeah, maybe Ian nagged him a few too many times about staying healthy after the lockdown started when Mickey’s only method of balancing out his liquid beer diet was riding Ian’s dick. But by then, it felt like they’d been occupying the same 1x1 bedroom for years, so it wasn’t exactly Ian’s fault.

If Mickey decided to go about it this way, great. Seriously. It only meant that Ian didn’t need to worry about getting his knuckles bruised anytime soon. And while he secretly mourned the loss of Mickey’s soft belly, he wasn’t going to complain. Not when Mickey looked the way he did now.

The thought was on Ian’s mind again that morning while he brushed his teeth over the bathroom sink, using the time on his hands to watch his husband in the mirror as he showered.

The curtain was only partially closed, just enough so that Mickey wasn’t splashing water around the tub while still leaving space for Ian to see him.

And boy, did he see him.

His broad shoulders. His arms stretching as he ran his hands through his wet hair. The dimples on his back. The marks Ian left on his ass when they fucked earlier.

When Mickey turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, Ian found himself drawn to the little water droplets sliding over the Ian Galager tattoo and down his pecs, his abs, the V shape of his hips, and into his pubes.

Ian only realized he entirely forgot to move the toothbrush in his mouth when one corner of Mickey’s mouth curled into a teasing smirk.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, sounding smug as hell as he reached for his towel.

“Definitely not your ugly mug.”

Coming out all muffled, Ian’s words lost some of their intended edges. He angled himself back to the sink and spat.

“You have the tits of a 12-year-old girl,” he added quickly like there was a five-second rule for when you could still save your diss. He looked up just in time to see Mickey scrunch his face in mild outrage.

“Fuck off, these are C cups at least.”

“Like you're such an expert on those.”

Ian let out a low yelp as Mickey unexpectedly smacked his back, right around where his Monica tattoo was.

“Well, they're not your mom's tits, that's for sure,” Mickey noted through a sneer.

He then went back to drying himself, and Ian allowed himself to openly gawk at his slightly misty reflection again.

Several mechanical strokes of his toothbrush later, the thought came back, clouding his mind with an ugly feeling.

The intuitive thing would be to push it back and pretend like everything was okay, but they were married now and told each other shit, right? He had to say something.

“Going to the gym again today?” Ian asked eventually, trying to come off as noncommittal as he could with his mouth full and his eyes trained on the drain.

Obviously, he didn’t mind getting horny over his buff husband. No, the actual reason Ian was so bothered about all this was that other people now had free reigns to get horny over him as well.

You see, since Mickey started paying Kev’s gym his regular visits, he’d managed to attract a flock of followers. Fucking fans.

That, at least, was what Ian called them. Mickey, of course, didn’t see it like that. For him, they were paying customers.

“It’s easy money, man. And the crowd’s gettin’ bigger and bigger every week.” Mickey looked pleased as he wrapped the towel around his hips. “Anyway, it’s not like I have to do much. Most of the time, I just do my thing, and the bunch of ‘em stare at my ass.”

Ian bent forward and spat.

“So basically, they pay to jerk off your ego,” he pointed out, slumping his shoulders to show how totally unimpressed he was by that notion.

“’Xactly. And maybe something else, too.”

Mickey’s cackle followed him out into the hallway as he left Ian alone in the bathroom.

---

It was clearly a joke. A nasty joke that was supposed to leave a sting, but there was absolutely no need for Ian to worry. And he kept telling himself that all day—right until the moment he entered the badly-lit backroom of the Alibi and found himself in the company of a pack of Northsiders in designer label gym clothes.

Before he could spot Mickey anywhere among them, some blond guy in what seemed like an uncomfortably too tight a tank top came to his side.

„Looks like we have a newcomer in our midst.” The guy clicked his tongue, giving Ian an blatant once-over. “You here for the Mickeffect?”

„The what?“

„The Mickeffect. That’s what we call this class. Unofficially, of course, because the class is sorta kinda unofficial, too.” At that, he sniggered, which Ian immediately found annoying. “3pm, every Tuesday and Thursday. You from the Facebook group?”

Ian resisted the urge to scoff. “Uh, no.”

“Just lucky coincidence, then? Well, since you’re already here, I think you’re gonna enjoy yourself. The dude who leads this class is ex-con, so he knows all the right ways to abuse the body if you know what I mean.”

Clenching his fists inside the pockets of his sweatpants, Ian smiled politely and nodded. He wasn’t going to give this blond douchebag the satisfaction and punch him in the face. Not yet, at least.

“Hot as hell, too. And man, that ass. Simply de-licious. The whole thing actually only went off after I posted a video of him doing squats. Got 50k views in a day, a whole article on PinkNews a week later. The title was The Ex-con Hunk Who Makes Chicagoans Sweat Like Crazy – And Then Tells Them Off. Funny.”

The guy shrugged in this wannabe innocent you know how it is way. Ian was relieved to realize he really, really didn’t.

“We get new people all the time, but the return rate is terrible,” Blond Douchebag continued, amazingly. “Most of the boys come for Mickey but then leave with someone else. Maybe you’ll get lucky here, too.”

“I’m married,“ Ian retorted, hoping it would be enough to make him stop talking.

But Blond Douchebag didn’t even blink. “Yeah, so are some of the guys here. And he is, too, but I don’t think he’s the typa guy who would be deterred by that.“

Careful there, pal, Ian thought. Or you might find your pretty face landing very unprettily on a beer keg.

“Oh, hey!“

The familiar voice came out of nowhere, prematurely ending Ian’s plans to show this complete dickwad the practical meaning of the word concussion.

His head snapped to his right where Mickey was now standing, his eyes carefully roaming over Ian. There was a softness in them for a moment before his whole face morphed into a smirk.

„Came to learn something from the expert?” he teased.

Ian clenched his jaw. “Something like that.”

As Mickey moved past them, Blond Douchebag gave Ian a sly wink.

---

Ian wasn’t sure what kind of problems the snooty Northsiders could possibly be dealing with in their private lives, but this whole thing seemed to have almost therapeutical effects on them.

Mickey called them Ansel Elgort (not a compliment) or White Kanye West (also not a compliment) while he listened to their crap, and they giggled like teenage girls. He yelled at them for being pussies, and they were only a touch away from popping a boner. It made zero fucking sense.

And Mickey, well. The dickhead was so clearly giving them an upgraded version to his usual performance. Biting his bottom lip all the time. Flexing his muscles a little too hard. Grabbing everyone’s attention by letting out these exaggerated grunts.

Ian officially reached his bullshit limit when Mickey finished off a set of pull-ups and promptly took his shirt off to wipe his face. The way everything around him seemed to come to a stop for a hot minute had Ian’s eyes rolling.

It was totally ridiculous. Were these guys really so desperate?

Getting a better grip on the skipping rope he was using, Ian caught Mickey watching him, his brows arched, the dare behind them so plain and obvious.

And yeah, okay, asshole. Two could play this game.

“You know what,” Ian started out loud so everyone could hear him. He let the rope fall to his feet and instead tugged his own shirt off. “We did things a little differently in the army.”

His grin widened when he heard one of the guys audibly gulp.

---

“Fifty!”

“One hundred!”

“Fuck off, you can’t do one hundred push-ups in one go.”

“With one hand behind my back.”

Maybe kneeling on the feet of two wheezing guys doing sit-ups wasn’t the best time to have a whispered shouting match with your husband, but honestly, Ian couldn’t give two shits. Mickey was seriously pissing him off—and like hell was he going to let him win. Even if it was just this one petty argument.

“You need stamina when you’re the top. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to do all the fucking work while the bottom just lies there.”

“Oh, oh, please! Tell us more about your workouts in the army. Was this before or after you tried to run away from there by stealing a damn helicopter?”

They were suddenly aware that their periphery vision got surprisingly still. Almost in tandem, they looked down at the alarmed expressions of their trainees.

“Did I fuckin’ tell you to stop, Asthma Boy?” Mickey grumbled at his guy. “Gimme three more sets of twenty!”

---

Blond Douchebag must have taken a genuine liking to him because he later offered to cover Ian as he pounded into the punching bag. And while he technically did hold onto the punching bag, his eyes were always on Mickey.

“Wonder who Ian is,” he mused as he observed Mickey’s topless form. “Think it’s the husband? Probably doesn’t even realize what a hot piece of ass he’s got at home.”

Too easy. It would be entirely too easy to pretend Ian’s hand slipped and he hit him by mistake, and he wasn’t going to stoop that low. He wasn’t.

Taking in a deep breath, Ian started punching harder.

He wasn’t.

“Everything okay here?”

Mickey had his shirt tucked under the elastic band of his pants, and from the corner of his eyes, Ian couldn’t help but notice the light sheen of sweat that covered his face and upper body. He wasn’t the only one.

“Oh, more than okay,” Blond Douchebag practically purred.

Punch. Punch. Punch.

“Whoa, Ian, hey.” Mickey sounded worried. “Take it easy, man.”

And fucking finally, that seemed to have done the job. Because Blond Douchebag wasn’t looking at Mickey anymore, he was looking back at Ian, and his bravado was long gone. Now, there was childlike fear in his stance, and Ian almost pitied him.

“Oh shit. You’re Ian,” he managed before the next punch landed right into his face, knocking him down on the floor.

Panting, Ian stood over him as he clutched his bleeding nose.

“Yes, I’m Ian,” he snarled at him. “And his ass is all mine.”

Someone gripped his arm then.

“Okay, the show’s over, Muhammad Ali. Better get out of here,” Mickey muttered as he pushed Ian across the gym, past all the Northside wimps who seemed too tired to do anything other than being in shock. “Come on. Ian, come the fuck on!”

From the Alibi, they ran. Sprinted along the streets and over honking cars, zig-zagged through commuters, and flipped off those who wolf-whistled at their half-naked bodies. They ran until they ended up in a dirty alley with no one else in sight, their sides on fire, and broke into a fit of laughter.

Ian only realized Mickey brought his shirt when he used it to slap his chest.

“Jealous fucker.”

“Shut the fuck up. Wasn’t jealous.”

But Mickey was still wearing that suggestive whatcha gonna do now smirk, and his lips were shiny from being licked over just a second ago, and so the next thing Ian knew, he was pushing him against a wall and kissing him thoroughly.

His hands went to Mickey’s ass, lifting him up just slightly as his fingers dug in, and Ian pulled back to let out a moan.

“Mm, I fuckin’ love your ass.”

Mickey groaned. “Jesus Christ, please don’t tell me all of this was because of my ass.”

Leaning down again, Ian murmured into his mouth: “Isn’t it always?”

#sorry anon this took FOREVER #hope it makes you laugh at least #they're being dumb and competitive and in love #just how we like 'em #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fic #gallavich #writing prompt #my fics

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

I Scream a Truth, You Hear a Lie - part 1/ 5

This is a gift for the most amazing @ban-aard <3

pairing: Geraskier

summary: When some bigoted man insists that Geralt can’t feel love, Jaskier blurts out that they are married - which they very much aren’t. So naturally, Geralt and Jaskier have to pretend to be husbands to convince people that Geralt is lovable, though no one doubts that more than Geralt himself.

word count:~3k

content warning: some self-deprication

read on AO3

Alright, so it hadn’t been Jaskier’s most brilliant idea. One might even go so far as to say it was one of his worst ones, but in his defence, he had been tired, a teeny tiny bit drunk and majorly pissed off.

All throughout the evening Jaskier had to listen to stupid comments about witchers. No matter how many tales of Geralt’s heroic deeds he sang, Erik, the man who had given Geralt the contract he was currently risking his life on, kept insulting witchers, the fucking hypocrite.

Throughout it all Jaskier was forced to clench his teeth and continue singing. The most he could do was through death glares at the man and hope he choked on his ale. It wouldn’t do to disrupt his performance, not when they still needed the money to rent a room once Geralt came back, even though it made Jaskier’s blood boil to know people still spread lies about his friend. He came far too close to just stopping his performance and call the contractor out on his lies in front of the entire tavern.

As luck would have it, he didn’t need to.

Just as Jaskier’s last song came to a close the doors opened and Geralt came in, heading straight to the bearded man whose eyes grew wide as he took in Geralt’s black eyes and blood-splattered skin.

He must have been too scared to protest or swindle Geralt into giving him less coin.

Jaskier watched on in smug satisfaction, though he couldn’t pretend not to feel a pang when Geralt didn’t even spare him a single glance before leaving the tavern. As the doors fell close behind him Jaskier hurried to follow him, but he stopped dead in his tracks when the hated voice chimed up once again, louder now that Geralt had left the room.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Jaskier whirled around and fixed him with a raging snarl. “Maybe next time, he should just stay out of this town and not help you when your people are dying then?”

The man scoffed. “You know that’s not what I mean. I don’t mind his kind, but I don’t want them here for Marijan’s Day. No one does.”

“He just risked his life for you. If anything, you should be throwing a feast in his honour. The least you can do is not be arseholes and let him stay for your festival.”

“Listen, bard, this is a celebration of love. What does someone like him even want there? Everyone knows those mutants don’t –

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed and he prayed Geralt was already far enough away to not hear any of what the man was saying.

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

“Excuse me.” Jaskier’s voice became deadly cold. “Geralt is living proof that that’s a load of bullshit.”

Erik took a swig of his pint and fixed Jaskier with an almost pitying look. “Sorry to tell you, lad, but just because it’s painfully obvious that you adore the mutant like a loyal puppy doesn’t mean he feels anything for you.”

Jaskier could barely stop himself from flinching back. Those words hit too close. They were too true. How many nights has he lied awake wishing it were different? Maybe it would have been easier if it were true and witchers really didn’t feel. Then at least it wouldn’t have been Jaskier’s fault that Geralt couldn’t love him.

The thought hurt and it set his blood on fire and it made him lose all control over what his mouth was saying.

“Are you telling me my husband doesn’t love me? Is that what you’re saying?”

A wheezing sound left the man as he choked on his drink, but the small amount of satisfaction Jaskier got from it was short lived. “Your what?”

“My husband,” Jaskier said, firmer this time, consequences be damned. It’s not like sticking with what he had said would make this mess any worse. “And I will take him with me to your oh so wonderful festival and you can all see just how loving and brilliant and lovable he is!”

As soon as the words had left him, he regretted them. This could only end in disaster.

Convincing Geralt to accompany him to a celebration was hard enough, but with what Jaskier had just said? Geralt would rip his head right off when he found out. But like hell would Jaskier let these people continue slandering Geralt. He would do what he could to make them take back their poisonous words and if it tore his heart out in the process, so be it.

Geralt kept his head down as best he could as he entered the tavern. He had heard the whispers as he had approached and he felt his chest tighten as they all came to a suspicious halt once he entered the room. He didn’t need to smell the fear to know he wasn’t wanted here. Bitter guilt rose up in him. Only moments before, Jaskier had put on a performance and captivated the audience and now all eyes were on Geralt, no one caring about Jaskier the way they should.

He hurried to get his money and leave. It took all of his will power not to look at Jaskier. The thought of him waiting for Geralt’s return had gotten him through the fight and coming back to him was the best part of any contract.

And yet, despite all the times Jaskier had seen him dirty, with torn clothes and the toxins pumping through his blood, he couldn’t look him in the eyes now. Not in front of all these people. It was different when it was just the two of them in a room far away from prying eyes, but with everyone looking at Geralt … Jaskier wouldn’t want to be associated with the sight of him like this. It would expose any lies he told about Geralt’s valiant character.

So he left without chancing a glance at him, though he felt Jaskier’s eyes burning into his back.

Leaving the crowded tavern and the disgusted stares behind was freeing, though there was an insistent part of him that told him to go back. He didn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself from lingering just outside the door. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to hear Jaskier strike up a new song, would hear the excitement in his voice as the rush of a performance overtook him.

What he heard instead made his heart sink like a stone.

“Thank the gods we’re rid of him now. Gives me the creeps.”

Of course. What else could he have expected? Geralt was used to hearing such things, but it didn’t make them sting any less. For years he had been able to just lock those comments away and pretend they didn’t bother them, but ever since travelling with Jaskier this seemed impossible. Because one could only hear so many times that the man they travelled with was a monster before starting to believe it themselves. One day, Jaskier would begin to doubt. He would realise that if so many people agreed on what Geralt was, maybe he was in the wrong saying that Geralt was anything better.

With a bitter taste in his mouth and a painfully tight chest he listened to Jaskier defend him. It eased something inside him, dislodged a strangling heaviness in his lungs that made it hard to breathe.

Until –

“It’s true though isn’t it? Witchers don’t feel and no one would love them anyway so what would be the point?”

Geralt staggered backwards. He couldn’t think, he just left -fled – those words ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stay to listen what Jaskier would say, if there even was something he could say.

For while the first part couldn’t be more untrue – the pangs shooting through Geralt’s heart all the proof needed that witchers could feel – no one, not even Jaskier who stood up for witchers where he could, could argue with the second part. Not when merely a minute ago Geralt had stood before him, his black eyes and unnaturally pale skin an unmistakable reminder of what he was. Not even Jaskier who was so full of love to give every one – everyone but him - would ever be able to love him.

For a sick second Geralt was almost grateful for hearing those words that had been said with such condescension and conviction. He had needed to hear them, needed the reminder. Too close had he gotten to letting himself forget. Too close to letting himself hope that Jaskier could –

He shook the thought off before thinking it fully and entered the inn, storming off into their room and shutting the door much louder than he would have if Jaskier had been there.

The loud bang of the door snapping shut did nothing to disrupt the thoughts still swirling in his mind. Even now with distance and walls between him and the venomous words he couldn’t shake them off.

What would be the point?

He scoffed into the silence of his lonely room. Yes, what was the point of all of it? Of letting Jaskier travel with him, of relishing every laugh shared and every moment spend together as if he could keep Jaskier in his life, when he knew that he didn’t even have him – would never have him. Not in the selfish and impossible way that he wanted.

His mind still hadn’t quieted down when the door opened again and Jaskier peeked into the room. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at how carefully quiet Jaskier was.

“The potion’s still making everything too loud?” he asked softly.

Geralt grunted in denial.

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh and went over to him, sitting down on the bed. Geralt’s chest grew tight when he saw how much space Jaskier had left between them, how he avoided Geralt’s eyes and how his hands never stayed still. Geralt wanted to reach out and lay a hand on Jaskier’s to calm his fidgeting. Instead he balled his hand into a fist at his side.

All he had hoped for was some peace and quiet. Some rest, with Jaskier talking about his day while Geralt let his voice lull him off into sleep.

Now though it seemed he would get none of it. Jaskier was obviously nervous and uncomfortable with Geralt around. The words of hate and bigotry had finally seeped into Jaskier’s mind now that he hadn’t been able to find any plausible reply to the claim that witchers were unlovable.

“So,” Jaskier said after a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. “there’s a festival in a couple of days.”

Geralt grunted. Of course he knew about that. As if the bustling preparations hadn’t been enough to tip him off, Jaskier’s unceasing rambling about the festival and its renown that had people travel from neighbouring countries just to see the festivities made sure that Geralt knew about it. The knowledge that the festival was threatened by the presence of the monsters Geralt had been told to get rid of had only made him more determined to finish the contrast as fast as possible. There was nothing as motivating as the excited way Jaskier was grinning when he spoke of something he was looking forward to and Geralt hadn’t been able to risk the festival falling through.

“And – as I’m sure you can imagine – I would very much like to go.”

“Then go,” Geralt said, though his heart clenched painfully. “I won’t bother you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I- what? Of course you won’t bother me. You never do. I was just… you see the thing is…” Jaskier’s voice trailed off uncertainly and his eyes flickered over to Geralt for a brief moment. It was enough to see the hints of anxiety in them.

He had never been afraid of him. Not until now apparently.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s all quite clear,” Geralt said and turned his face into the impassive mask that he had hoped he wouldn’t need around Jaskier anymore. “You want to have a good time at the festival and me being there would make that impossible.” When Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, Geralt added, “I heard what that man said. I’m not wanted there. Or in this town at all. So I’ll leave.” I won’t ruin this for you, he didn’t say.

Jaskier’s brows pinched together and he turned to face Geralt completely, suddenly sickly pale. “Geralt….how much exactly did you hear?”

Geralt shrugged, though his throat had gotten tight. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me say out loud that you can’t love me.

When he didn’t receive a satisfactory reply, Jaskier huffed. “Because I think you missed a crucial part of that conversation. Yes, I want to go to the festival – one might even say I need to – but I can’t go alone.”

Geralt huffed. “Because it’s a ‘celebration of love’? I didn’t think finding a partner would be a problem for you.” The words came out more bitter than he had intended and he risked a look at Jaskier, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Very funny. If you need to know, there were in fact at least three lovely people in that tavern who I’m sure would love my company for the feast.”

“Go ask them then.” Geralt forced the words out from between his teeth. There went all hope of having a restful sleep that night. How could he sleep when he knew that other people needed to do no more than look at Jaskier to gain his heart?

“I’m afraid I need you specifically to come with me.”

No matter how much his heart ached or how much Geralt fought against it, he couldn’t keep the smirk from tugging at his lips. “Have you somehow managed to piss off someone already? Jaskier, we’ve been here for two days.” The smirk grew wider when offended noises left Jaskier’s lips. “And I told you I’m done playing your bodyguard. That was a one-time thing.”

Jaskier perked up. “Well, then it’s a good thing it’s not me we’d be protecting.”

Something sharp and ugly reared its head inside Geralt. “No,” he said, voice hard. “I am not going to protect one of your dalliances. Who you decide to bed is your business, as is what happens to them.”

Don’t ask this of me. Don’t make me watch you flirt and kiss and be happy with someone else, even if only for this one day.

And yet, even as Geralt said it, he knew he would do it if Jaskier asked again, if he shifted closer and his eyes took on that pleading look that Geralt wasn’t strong enough to withstand. If Jaskier looked like he really needed this of him, he would give it to him like the fool that he was, even as it would tear into his heart like the claws of a beast.

Jaskier let out a frustrated sigh and shut his eyes tightly.

“I need you to be my husband.” The words were rushed and quiet, as if speaking them like this would make Geralt miss them.

Geralt’s thoughts came to a screeching halt and his mouth went dry. He couldn’t have heard correctly. All of those stupid wishes and hopeless dreams must have made him mishear.

“Jaskier?” He couldn’t say more than that. Anything but that one name might show the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He feared the name alone could have been too much already.

“Not really, of course,” Jaskier added hastily and rubbed his fingers together. “I… please don’t be mad at me, Geralt.”

Geralt’s brows knitted together and his heart sank. “What did you do?”

“I – I might have said that we were married.”

“Us married?” Geralt let out a sharp laugh that held no mirth. “Us married. I thought you were a master of words, how can you come up with such an obvious lie?”

The words stung as he spoke them and the dagger they plunged into his chest twisted when Jaskier winced. How else could Jaskier react, having thrown his stupid lie back in his face, probably only just now realising how horrible being married to Geralt truly would be.

“You said you wouldn’t be mad.” Jaskier’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Geralt raked a hand through his hair, frustration eating at him. “I never said that. But I’m not. I just don’t understand why you would do such a thing.”

Jaskier’s eyes blazed. “Because they were being arseholes!” His voice got louder with each word. “No matter what I did, no matter how often I told them about how good you are, they just kept saying things and I – I’m sorry, but I panicked and the words just slipped out.”

Just slipped out. As if the sole idea of them being anything more than friends wasn’t enough to drive Geralt mad. But saying it out loud, letting the words just slip out, as if it wasn’t something earthshattering…

“That won’t change anything,” Geralt said as evenly as he could. “Just because you said that doesn’t mean you’ll have to take me to the festival. I’m sure you’ll come up with some excuse as to why your husband isn’t with you and you can still have your fun.”

“That’s not what –“ Jaskier bit his lip and a hint of red tinted his cheeks. “It’s not about me having fun. It’s about proving to them that you are not what they say you are.”

Geralt was almost tempted to ask him what exactly that was, to hear Jaskier say the words that dug into Geralt’s chest out loud, but Jaskier looked so crestfallen, as if the thought of what people said physically pained him.

And why wouldn’t it? The wonderful idiot had made it his life’s work to improve Geralt’s reputation, and out of all the things that could be said about Jaskier, he was stubborn beyond compare – likely the main reason why he was still suffering Geralt’s company after all these years. Of course Jaskier wouldn’t like hearing people slander the thing he had dedicated his life to. Though those insults and scoffs were aimed at Geralt, they too hit Jaskier, told him he wasn’t good enough at what he was doing.

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier, you don’t need to do something that would make you uncomfortable just to proof something to them. They – it’s not worth it.”

“It is.” Jaskier’s eyes were determined. “Geralt please. Just for the festival. Please pretend you’re in love with me.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. There were reasons why this was a horrible idea. There were consequences that would surely come off this.

But the thought of being allowed to show even just a fraction of what he felt for Jaskier, even if just for one day, overshadowed all rational thought. It would hurt, it would break him, but just for that one day it would be worth it if it meant knowing what it would be like to feel that look that Jaskier gifted everyone else on him.

Afraid of the emotion that he wouldn’t be able to hide if he opened his mouth, Geralt only nodded.

Jaskier beamed at him and Geralt’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. He was not going to make it thought this with his heart in one piece.

But he could do it even if it was torture. It was just one day.

#geraskier #fake dating #fake marriage #witcher #witcher fanfiction #fic #my writing #I scream a truth you hear a lie #gift for a friend #geraltxjaskier #mutual pining #geralt #jaskier

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anayaahwrites · 3 years

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KOT Ficlet #5 (Momoya Natsu/ Yoshinaga Atsumu)

When the lights start flashing like a photo booth (And the stars exploding, we'll be fireproof.)

Warning: Themes of underage drinking and implied sexual content.

Natsu roughly based on this art by @sasukeslove

A small AU on MomoYoshi's first meeting:

...

Natsu is six when he learns about Angels.

He’s perched on mama’s lap, carrying a new storybook with tiny hands and slowly pronouncing all the words. Her proud smile encourages him to read the larger words too, the ones he’d avoid out of embarrassment—something about a pro-fe-cky and a pro-mice that He exists up there somewhere, over the pillowy clouds watching down on them.

Mama tucks him in that night and tells Natsu to close his eyes and pray because Angels only come to good boys.

He’s ten when it all sounds like bullshit to him.

Over the years, Mom’s rosy smile had withered into a fatigued sigh, a cry for help to the God that never answers no matter how much they pray. Dad was more a guest than a resident. He came around once in a while to eat lunch—with a taut smile plastered eerily over his smooth features—and swiftly vanish to not return in that week .

They’ve stopped waiting for him and Natsu stops asking questions.

He’s thirteen when he meets Sei, a child around his age, except so much more charming and calm and composed for someone that carried half the same set of genes Natsu had. He learns of his father’s betrayal and is honestly shocked at his own lack of surprise. Still, he questions his God and why why why would He let mom’s heart shatter like that?

Sei is quick to laugh and tell him that God doesn’t exist and mom is just a victim to their monster of a father.

So he goes home that day to his outraged mother, hair coloured like glittery Christmas tinsel and sapphire lenses replacing his usual shade of honey brown. She snaps at the sight, yelling at him till her throat closes up, till nothing but a harsh sob escapes her and he lets her. They both had to cope somehow.

By the fall of his fourteenth year, he gets pierced four times and stops talking to his mother almost completely.

To hell with dad. To hell with God.

Natsu is fifteen, and he doesn’t care about anything anymore.

He’s fifteen and quickly realising from his daily job as a guitarist in the club that girls aren't attractive no matter how much they flock around him. He still humours them sometimes, a touch here, a kiss there since the pay is good enough for him to add some extra service on his part.

Mom plies herself with work as often as possible, to douse her misery in the decayed scent of piled papers and clunking keyboards. She leaves Natsu to deal with everything else on his own like the obedient son he is, letting him go like dad left her.

Natsu is alright, though. He’s done this far longer than she knows.

He stops reaching out to her, stops talking to someone up in the skies, settling instead to live a tranquil life in the shadows, under the dependable shade of music. He hates people. He hates the world.

Natsu is basking in the warmth of another uneventful day in the club, when in walks a boy out of fucking nowhere and his entire world tips on its axis.

The boy takes shaky, wary steps as if he were balancing on a trapeze. Dark black bangs like thick black rain spill over the side of his face, half covering wide brown eyes. Splotches of pink and porcelain white stick out where his sweater ends and skin begins. He’s small and delicate and beautiful, Natsu’s heart skips a beat. Or two. Or maybe three.

And why should he lie? Natsu has seen beautiful, quite a few varieties of it too. But this…this was different. This was unreal.

The boy looks around nervously before he catches something and there’s a spark in those hazel eyes, sharp and electric, a smile tugging at his lips.

Natsu follows his gaze. On the stage lies his own guitar—a pre-performance habit for people to know he was next. He took great pride because this itself garnered more clusters than anyone in the entire house.

Natsu smiles. So he was a fan.

He downs the customary shot of vodka, waving at the people before hopping on stage and wrapping the sling around his neck. He scours the audience for a familiar face and it doesn’t take a lot, to spot a splatter of ink black in the crowd, batting eager eyelids at him. The smaller boy realises the attention on him and glances behind to confirm his suspicion.

By the time he swings around, eyes blown wide in a stare, Natsu plays the first chord.

In an instant, his expression shifts to a mix of awe and interest, a silent worship and a loud cheer compiled in one small, thin body. He claps more than anyone else in the room, beaming like a floodlight by the time Natsu finishes.

It was nothing strange. He played among cheers every day but none felt as satisfying with this voice hooting and clearly standing out from his regular gang of squealing girls. He throws his head back laughing back stage when no one is there to see.

By the time Natsu gets out on the floor again, a little more thrilled for the night and dressed in something less flashy, he’s gone. He screws his lips in displeasure and asks his friend to make him something stronger than the usual.

This happens more nights than not, and it was frustrating him.

The moment Angel boy—as he’s dubbed him, steps in through the door, Natsu traces his every move and quickly registers a pattern. He only comes around on days the club was the busiest—specifically during Natsu’s performance, talks to no one and leaves before he has the chance to even ask a name.

Not that Natsu was interested in him or anything. He was just curious, is all—why this boy looked like a starved pet every time he saw him on stage and if he really smelled like soft winter blankets and warm fireplaces, all angelic and pure.

Okay, so maybe he was a little interested.

Months pass like that.

The mid-November chill comes with its blistering snowstorms and the club is jam packed—winters were some of their busiest months—and Natsu’s up to perform. Instead of preparing, he watches the door resolutely from the bar, tapping impatiently at the table.

As routine, it barely opens a crack, and he sees a sliver of ebony snaking it’s way through the crowd. The boy stands on his tippy-toes which don’t give him much of a view, so he does these tiny jumps—that are so adorable, for a second Natsu forgets his own name—and scowls when he notices no guitar on stage.

He checks the time, the stage and then scans the crowd. The anticipation throbs through Natsu as he follows his eyes cross the room in slow motion, dragging dragging until they eventually land on him. Everything stills—the thundering music, the singing and all he can hear is the low thump of veins against his skin.

It’s over in a flash.

“That your Angel boy?” The bartender gestures at the figure turning tail and running, drying the pad on his prized work station. He skillfully pours two coloured liquids into an oddly shaped glass and passes it over the counter to him.

Natsu hums, swirling the absinthe stained drink in hand, eyeing the smaller boy gasp as a couple slams against the door, clearly piss drunk with her suspended over his thighs and gyrating her hips into the man.

“Hey, chief.”

“Hm?”

“You think I can get off early tonight?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Like now.” Natsu answers, never letting his gaze falter from the head full of black hair slowly receding through the crowd, horrified.

The man guffaws, lifting a glass of water—since he can’t drink on duty—and clinking it with Natsu’s.

“Must be fuckin’ Christmas if you’re taking interest in anyone, so I’ll let this one pass. Don’t scare him off now. He already looks like a trembling lamb.”

Natsu knocks back the contents, swallowing the liquid till it numbs his entire mouth and smirks.

“I’ll try.”

So he follows the boy. Hands are immediately all over him from faces he recognises in passing—a girl he once kissed, someone that made him cake, but he pushes them off.

His boy of interest forces the hood of his shirt up all the way, and glances behind him once before increasing his pace. Maybe the lights are really getting to him and maybe Natsu is a little tipsy when he reaches out to grab his hand.

The boy flips around to lock eyes frantically, as if a ghost had seized him.

“Hey.” Natsu musters his sweetest smile.

“Hi..” The boy replies.

And oh, his voice. It’s sugary sweet and so so soft like—like actual rolls of smooth and silky cotton had woven them. He blushes fiercely under Natsu’s relentless gaze and stares where their hands were connected in a tight grip as if it burned holes through him.

Natsu frowns. “Don’t run.”

The boy’s gaze shoots up, and he’s pulling away.

“I-I’m sorry I really h-have to go—”

“It’s my birthday.” Goddamn, he must be really wasted to admit that. Now that he thinks about it, what did he just drink?

Twentieth November, the day he was born and incidentally also the day he found his father’s tongue down another woman’s throat, holding a child over his shoulder.

“Oh,” The boy stops, pursing his lips and letting the hood go all the way down before flashing easily one of the most ethereal smiles Natsu has ever seen.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he replies awkwardly. “It’s not going really well.”

“No?”

Natsu nods. “It’s nothing different.”

“You want it to be special?”

The buzz in his nerves practically screamed a yes to that—he wanted something to remember, to bury the horrible memories he associated with this day, for the days he wished he was never born in the first place. He wanted to fit it all in this one boy in one night, this angel he didn’t even know, to free him from himself.

Natsu tightens his grip. “Dance with me?”

Oh boy, the alcohol was talking.

Angel boy looks at Natsu with wide doe eyes, peers back at their hands and gulps. Natsu frowns and releases his hold. He was drunk, probably a little more than he’d admit to, but he didn’t want to pressurize anyone—not when this boy already looked so out of his element, a beige hoodie and skinny jeans in a club full of scantily clad folk.

But he reverses the roles, grabbing Natsu by the fingers so delicately, he releases a soft hum of satisfaction. He rubs fingers between his own, feeling the brush of calloused fingertips on them. It reminds him of mom’s soft chest rising and falling when she slept beside him because he was her ‘perfect little angel’ and made him feel safe.

He misses it. Misses being safe. Misses being loved.

“Okay,” the boy mumbles, peering from under his natural hood of hair with a light smile. “Okay. Let’s dance.”

Natsu doesn’t really know what he’s doing anymore. The lights blink and they’re suddenly in stop motion. It tricks his brain into thinking of them as pictures trapped some place in his brain forever. So he stares and stares and captures the blush spreading like wildfire across the boy’s face, a smile widening in tandem with the soft beats.

They’re two faces among a thousand on a random winter night. The music isn’t his type nor is his attire anything to be proud of. But this boy. Holy heavens, if he isn’t the prettiest thing ever then the stars should be ashamed because damn, he’d beat them even on a bad day.

His hair sways—a steady swing of left right left right and a pleasant smile sits snug on his features like that’s where they belonged, that’s where they had always belonged and Natsu closes his eyes when their hands meet again.

This is perfect.

It’s when the music stills that they transition to a slower lull of movement, and the blaze of liquor in his blood emboldens him into yanking the boy a little closer. He lets him fall with a small plop on his chest and laughs when he rubs his nose, scowling.

“Why do you never wait back?” He asks, exhaling at the warmth the boy’s presence brings. Natsu puts his hand around his waist and he swears, it was like he wasn’t human, like someone had sculpted him out of clay, moulded to near perfection. And maybe he’s treading into dangerous waters, but his mouth had a mind of its own and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

“I always look for you after I’m done but you’re never here.”

Pair of hazelnut eyes sheepishly peer at him.

“I’m sorry. I’m just.… not good at socializing.”

“So you say,” Natsu laughs, “But you’re doing better than me.”

“No way!”

“Yes way.”

“You have to be kidding me you’re so cool—and and so beautiful I really cannot—since the beginning I haven’t been able to take my eyes off—”

He squeaks when he's dragged closer by the small of his back. Their eyes meet. Natsu sees flashes of every happy moment of his life mirrored in them; His first recital, mom’s naturally loud laugh, the first time he played the guitar. They reach into Natsu’s soul and drag out his joy like the reel of a kite.

“I thought you were an angel,” he chuckles so close, he feels the boy shiver against his cheek. “I still do. Everyone here calls you Angel boy. Score a drink from them with that name sometime. I’m sure they’ll oblige you.”

“Angel? I—” He breathes a giggle, twisting silver strands with his fingers. “If there’s any angel here, it’s you.”

But this is fake, he wants to say. It’s fake, artificial, made of desperation because he never wants to look into the mirror and see his father’s face staring back at him. He won’t be him. He won’t.

“Atsumu,” he says. “My name is Atsumu.”

“Atsumu.” Natsu repeats in his head till it rolls naturally over his tongue. Like Atsu meaning heat and summer and everything bright and cheery.

Natsu purposefully lingers near his ear, to breathe his name in the air, smiling, content.

“ ‘Tsumu. It’s cute,” he hums. “You’re cute.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Definitely.” He chuckles.

Atsumu whispers, low and uneasy. “C-can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm.” At this point, his voice gave him a greater high than the drink he had downed fifteen minutes ago. Or was it an hour? He couldn’t really tell and decided very quickly he didn’t care, anyway.

“Why don’t you.. come to school?”

Natsu’s eyes open a crack to glimpse at the boy who trembles softly under him, as if he were admitting to a crime.

“I—” he continues in alarm, “I swear I’m not a stalker I just—Oh my god please don’t misunderstand me—”

“Calm down.” Natsu shushes, smiling apologetically at the few people around him that had been torn out of their aggressive make-out session as if they weren’t the ones that needed a room. God, if he sees another dick hanging out, he’ll have to bust out the chainsaw in the basement and go wild.

“So,” he leads them to a quieter corner with very few people and lesser eyes their way. “School,” he waves a hand dismissively, “It’s boring. Lots of people. Annoying questions. You know the drill.”

“Right,” he gulps. “Right so, I’m uhh—in your class I don’t think you noticed and I’m from an instrument club and someone asked us a question. Something about erotic sounds—wait that sounds bad—not erotic erotic but.…Ah, I’m bad at explaining.”

Natsu doesn’t keep back the dreamy giggle that leaves him, swaying lightly to the music. He’s exactly as he imagined—hell, even his name was spot on—all warm and giggly and fluttery.

“I’m still listening,” Natsu smiles. “Go on.”

Atsumu scrunches his nose and continues. “So one of my club seniors—he comes of a little rough but he’s really nice—went to one of my other seniors house who I think he really likes, and her mother told him it’s—I’m sorry am I too confusing?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Okay, so basically, her mother says it’s the pause in between his words and actions. The space that is just…there. And so I was writing about it—because I write everything—and Oka-kun saw my book.”

Natsu scowls. “Oka is annoying like that.”

The boy giggles this time. “Funny. He said you’d say that.”

“It’d be nice if he attempted to change it, then.”

“And so he told me you play music, where you work and that maybe you could do something good for once—I didn’t say that he did—So…” He moves his hand vaguely around them. “Here I am.”

Natsu hums against his head, bringing him to a slower pace as the song changes.

“I’ll have to thank him for that.”

“You’re not..angry?” He says through furrowed brows. “Oka-kun said you would be if you found out.”

He’s certain if Oka showed up here uninvited, Natsu would promptly kick him out. Because Oka is annoying. Atsumu however….

“So? Did you get your answer?” He asks instead.

The smaller boy makes a face, pulling all his features in to make his button nose stand out more than it already does and pout.

Natsu laughs. He’s been doing a lot of that today. Laughing.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don’t get me wrong! Your performances are splendid and I really can’t get enough of them but the answer…I still haven’t reached a conclusion.”

Natsu plays with the fingers in his hand, shuffling to let them sink into the gap between his. Atsumu stares and responds by shyly tucking his fingers in.

“Want me to help you?” He whispers, tapping the side of Atsumu’s waist with his other hand.

“Can you?” He whispers back.

Can he? Yes. Should he? Probably not.

But what use is logic anyway, when a boy the embodiment of a sunny summer day amid a bitter winter stood enclosed in his arms?

Yeah. To hell with logic.

Natsu sways his hips, raking his free hand through Atsumu’s hair. He releases a pleased sigh when the tiny fingers between his tighten as if it were the only thing anchoring him to reality, which was good. Natsu felt the same, like his sanity was slowly slipping through open fingers.

“Spaces…exist everywhere. In words, in voices, in time…” He draws their joined hands to his mouth, dragging wet lips over porcelain skin. Atsumu shudders, breathing in sharp, shallow exhales.

“These hands..there’s a space in between them too if you look carefully. We’re so close,” fingers tighten around his shirt. “But still never close enough.

He runs a palm down the boy’s face that angles and angles till plush, red lips are within kissing distance. They part and blow warm clouds of air that taste mint and chocolate in his mouth. Natsu smiles. “Space is where there is distance. Space is where there is intimacy. Space is where there is friction. And this exciting gap that keeps us wanting to be closer till not even an atom could squeeze in—” he leans in closer, “—is erotic.”

He backs away while he has the physical capacity to do so, before the alcohol overrides every decision in his head and they end up a tangled mess of limbs in some random hotel room, but Atsumu having none of it.

He pulls Natsu to himself, clutching the pleats of his shirt and tugging him down to his lips. Teeth knock loudly against each other and Natsu hisses lightly, parting to lick the tingle in the tip of his incisor away.

“S-sorry!” Atsumu covers his embarrassment behind shaky hands. Natsu wraps thin fingers under his chin, reeling him in slow and steady and closes the distance. It’s soft, like a snowflake on a tree, virgin snow settling on frozen water and ironically, melts him. It boils and freezes, ignites his soul into a firework of bursting flames. He’s touching, feeling, pulling until every inhale feels like fire in his lungs.

“Closer,” Atsumu murmurs, throwing nimble hands over his shoulder and locking their lips together like puzzle pieces on a gameboard. “Make the space go away.”

It’s chaotic, and it’s magical. Like every star in the galaxy twinkled around them tonight, like every blossoming flower settled wherever Atsumu touched him. He’s drunk on vodka, drunk on happiness, drunk on love.

Closer. Natsu pushes a knee in between his thighs. His mouth hangs open in a silent moan, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head.

Closer. The hands in his air pull him in for another searing kiss, pressing for entry, to delve deeper, deeper into themselves. Atsumu nibbles lightly on his lip and Natsu lets him bruise him for tonight. To wreck him, destroy him.

Closer.

They settle for a slower casual rhythm when they part to breathe. He keeps them moving on the floor, smiling against a pair of swollen lips.

“School suddenly sounds much more interesting.” He says.

Atsumu squints incredulously. “We can’t do this at school.”

“No?”

“No!”

Natsu shrugs, pecking the tip of the boy’s nose. “Shame.”

“Then you’ll come?” Atsumu bumps his forehead against Natsu’s. “I’ll really see you tomorrow?”

“If you can walk home straight after tonight, then sure.”

Atsumu gasps and slaps him across the back, blushing as they leave the club, hand in hand, away into the wintery night.

Natsu turns sixteen—a little drunk, a lot happy—but he’s sixteen and he can pinpoint this as the day he falls in love even years later.

And every other birthday is insignificant but so much better, spent at home, in the arms of the boy that saved him in just one night, all those years ago.

Mom only ever asks where he’s going and who he’s moving in with while he packs his bags to leave. She frowns when he answers with the widest smile on his face, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“An Angel.”

Ignore the sloppy writing haha. I'm writing this while travelling back home after a god awful six hour exam.

It felt too plotless to post on my ao3 kdkcd—

If you look at the colouring of Natsu I based it on (go give @sasukeslove all the real love), I imagine the art as the morning after when Oka's annoying Natsu and Atsumu walks in through the door (≧▽≦)

#kono oto tomare!#kotedit #kot #ao3 #dailykot #fanfic #kono oto #ficlet #momoyoshi #momoya natsu #atsumu yoshinaga #Spotify

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giantroboticplatypusbutt218 · 3 years

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I finished watching Loonatics Unleashed and I have Some Thoughts. I guess this is like a part 2 to the other post I made about the show so yeah.

I swear I don’t intend for everything I write to be an essay but whatever. It’s all under the cut. No massive story spoilers, but I will talk about episodes and will warn accordingly. (But who actually cares about being spoiled on the plot of Loonatics Unleashed?)

Alright so I finally figured out why Ace has laser vision. ...It’s kinda dumb but it’s because rabbits eat carrots(in cartoons). It’s... a reason at least. Still kinda sucks that it’s his only power when everyone else got 2 and some change. Kickass swords don’t count, even if they are magic. Seriously; Transformation. Duplication. Imitation. Tons of other “ation”s. They could’ve leaned into his trickster side but no. He eats carrots... so he got laser vision. Also he only ate carrots like three times in the show so wtf...

Okay so the pacing... improved somewhat in season 2. Don’t get me wrong there were still problems in some episodes but at least they learned how to build the stakes until the climax. They still sometimes went from zero to eighty after the opening credits, but at least it wasn’t zero to a hundred. Much less whiplash was had is what I’m saying.

I don’t think I really mentioned the villains before but they’re uh... generally not very good. They’ve got cool gimmicks but most of the time they’re just two stereotypes and a cliche in a trench coat. Season 2 brought back classic anthro characters to be villains a few times, and while they still weren’t well written and just referenced old bits half the time... at least they weren’t dehumanized humans.

I also don’t think I mentioned the animation so... it’s fine. It’s got cut corners but all cartoons do. Sometimes fight scenes look cool, sometimes they’re stiff. Sometimes the slapstick is well timed, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the facial expressions match the voice acting, sometimes they don’t. Speaking of voice acting, it’s good. There’s not really anything stand out to perform in the first place but everyone does a good job with what they have.

Okay random note before getting deeper into things... the intro themes were... not good. I swear the first song ended on a note that it wasn’t supposed to. The second song fixed that but added people announcing the characters which... is just worse to me. Not much else to say because I skipped them after the first few times.

(Very mild spoilers for the general plots of episodes past this point.)

Ace and Lexi improved a little in the second season, but I still find them kinda bland. Ace still just feels like zero calorie Bugs Bunny. His wit is confined to being the leader, snarky comebacks, and some decent sleuthing skills... and that’s really it. He doesn’t really play around with the villains the way Bugs would. Ace was also supposed to have an arc learning to use his magic sword which... didn’t really happen. Lexi’s defining trait outside of her powers is still that she’s “the girl” which... sucks... Uh... she upgraded to Gamer Girl in the second season which while neat, amounted to nothing outside that one episode. At the very least she was never kidnapped for more than 5 seconds?(That “honor” goes to Zadavia) They also never really brought up their backstories in a meaningful way again, which sucks.

I still like the rest of the team. Slam got an episode about wrestling that built on his backstory and was fun to watch. Duck discovered that his egg powers work differently in water which was neat and matched him being a waterfowl.(Lexi’s powers work differently in water too but it’s never brought up again). Rev is still Rev and I still love him. He got an episode about his family and struggle to impress them(specifically his parents) despite his career choice which was also neat, but I will be coming back to this episode later. Tech is also still Tech and I also still love him. But uh, every character and also me wanted to see him get out of the lab more, and then he got like a nibble of an episode to get out of the lab, and then the show was over. Oof.

Speaking of Tech, it might be for the best he hardly ever left the lab because his powers are... possibly way too effective against all the robots and machines the team fights. Now, him being “overpowered” could’ve been used as a fun writing challenge. Robot goons aren’t a good option for villains anymore. Fighting against him in a city filled with metal is harder. Villains can’t rely on simply killing him thanks to his regeneration. Fight scenes including Tech would have to be handled in a fun and interesting way. But... no. In a team with two tech guys, the one with super speed and flight comes with while the one who can control metal and literally can’t die stays behind. Oh well. Doubt they could’ve added him into more fights without accidentally dumbing him down anyway.

Oh crap I forgot to talk about Zadavia! Uh... she exists. She’s the team’s boss who sends them out on missions. Uh... I can’t talk too much about her without spoiling what little overarching plot this show has, but just know that she’s neat, but affected by the usual sexism going on in the show’s writing.

(Character and episode spoilers past this point.)

You know, for being The Loonatics the main cast wasn’t very loony. You know who were though? Basically all the villains. Yeah I don’t wanna go there but oops here I go anyway. It’s pretty messed up that all the main characters’ zany traits were dialed down, while the defining feature of practically every villain (besides their stereotypes)is that they’re insane. I mean, if you’re looking for good mental illness rep in The Looney Tunes you’re gonna be disappointed, but at least in the shorts almost every character was a little unhinged and a bit of an asshole, making none of them stand out for those traits specifically.

Also messed up is that a lot of the villains are disfigured and made fun of for it by the main cast. Hot take of the century, but I think making fun of people for having a big head or only one eye is... bad. Oh and if they’re a woman then they’re also judged on how hot they are. Actually all women in the show are subjected to sexist writing. I remember like one episode where women were treated with a sliver of respect for a split second and that was in the obligatory “the cast comes across an island of amazon women” episode. However since most of the time was spent painting them as villains until the “actually sexism is bad” ending, there was hardly a moment of reprieve from the bullshit if a woman was on screen.

I’m not the best person to speak on this but uh... it’s fucked up that since literally every notable human is a villain, all the people of color are bad guys, right? Like, obviously it’s not as bad as some of the shit the old shorts pulled, but that’s like saying getting punched is not as bad as getting stabbed. It’s true... but I’m sure most people would prefer neither.

And here’s where I bring up that Rev episode I mentioned earlier. Rev’s parents are racist against coyotes (cartoons sure love to make carnivores allegories for black people don’t they?) and obviously with Tech E. Coyote being his close friend, that causes trouble. ...Right? Uh, no. They say some racist crap to Tech, and that’s it. There is not even an attempt to correct their behavior from anyone. It’s just treated as some unfortunate quirk. In fact the episode’s conflict actually revolves around Rev’s brother, Rip. Honestly, I doubt that they could’ve handled a decent “racism is bad” episode anyway. But they could’ve also... just not brought up racism if they couldn’t handle it? I’m sure having no racism topic at all would be better than having Tech just take the parents’ racist bull crap lying down and then help Rev impress them with an invention he doesn’t get credit for. Also at one point Rev says if Tech wasn’t a coyote and a guy he’d kiss him, which has two uncomfortable implications, but this section is already too long.

(Spoilers end here.)

Overall... yeah the show’s not very good. Of course it wasn’t. It was always going to be a little garbage. And no not because of the darker style or strange setting or any of that superficial crap. Team dynamic shows are popular and with Teen Titans doing so well WB probably thought they might as well shove out a 2 season Looney Tunes version to grab a little more cash, probably minimizing the budget to squeeze out as much profit as possible. If anyone working on the show was passionate about it, I doubt they had the budget or time to act on most their ideas.

Still, there were things to like. There are some funny jokes throughout the show, a few of which even managed to come out of Ace’s mouth. Danger Duck was literally just Daffy and he’s always great. Ironically, Rev and Tech were the most fun to listen to, and also to watch interacting in general. Slam didn’t do much but was a sweetheart who deserves success. There managed to be some decently twisty twist villains, if only because Disney ruined my brain with their ceaseless and lazy attempts at them, and I wasn’t looking out for them in this show. And, while almost nothing was properly developed, at least the concepts and characters are fun to think about?

I can’t say I’d recommend this show to everybody, but uh... if you’re a Furry with low standards and too much free time like me, maybe you’ll like it? Just go in with low expectations so when nice things happen you’re decently surprised.

#This took me like 5 hours to write what is wrong with me?#Why can't I dedicate this much time to one thing when it comes to finishing my fanfics?#Loonatics Unleashed #Random Thoughts #Now if you excuse me I'm going to obsess over Rev and Tech for who knows how long.

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ambiguoslyambitious · 3 years

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Chapter One: A Second Chance to Live A Life Worth Living

Author: ambiguoslyambitious (me!)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,402

Summary: Getting a job at Joja Corporation was supposed to be Bela Rivers' big break in the business world. Anyone who wanted to be successful in Stardew Valley dreamed at working in one of their corporate offices. However, life inside a cubicle is not what it's all cracked up to be, and the company that she is working for is harboring some deep secrets. A mysterious envelope gifted to Bela by her recently deceased grandfather might hold the key to a second chance to live a life worth living.

“M-Ms. Rivers? Hello?” a desperately cheery voice called out, a twinge of annoyance hiding just below the surface.

Bela pulled her eyes away from the harsh white light of the computer monitor in front of her to meet the even harsher glare of her supervisor, Mary Boerhen. Mary was a miserable woman cloaked in grey, both in personality and attire.

“Apologies, Ms. Boerhen,” Bela forced a smile to hide her hatred for pleasantries. “What can I do for you?”

Bela had just spent the past three hours aimlessly staring at her monitor, dreading spending yet another day updating spreadsheets. Every once in a while she glanced up at the menacing green light signaling that she was unfortunately still on the clock. The words, Join us. Thrive, seemed to be mocking her every day she was forced to sit in her corporate-issued personal hell. Bela had once held excitement for her job inputting data for Joja Corporation, the nation’s leading industry in just about everything. Everyone knew that if you wanted to make a solid living in Zuzu City, you just had to get a job with Joja.

However, that excitement soon faded once she had been squeezed into a tiny cubicle, condemned to spend her entire nine-to-five repeatedly going over numbers, day in and day out. She had thought that her recent degree in business administration, paired with her relation to the governor of Stardew Valley, would’ve given her the upper hand amongst her peers for a more “hands on” job opportunity within the company.

Unfortunately, she was still stuck crunching numbers like the rest of them, an insignificant cog in the corporate machine.

“Well, Ms. Rivers,” the woman sneered, “you could actually do the job you were hired to do.” Ms. Boerhen pursed her lips and turned away sharply, presumably to bark at anyone else who appeared to be slacking off.

Bela let out a small sigh, her fingers gravitating towards her desk drawer where a letter from her grandfather was resting. Once again, Bela felt her thoughts wander as she sadly remembered her last visit to him.

It had been ten years since Bela had last been to Pelican Town, a quaint little farming community located in the heart of Stardew Valley. As a child, Bela remembered spending each summer frolicking in the fields of Riverland Farm, a massive expanse of farmland spread out on a vast variety of small islands. However, her last visit wasn't so happy.

Bela remembered being thirteen years old watching from the train window, the city fading into the countryside. Harsh lights were replaced with the glow of fireflies and cement gave way to worn-down dirt paths. Her parents were tense the entire train ride, her father especially. She remembered the way his jaw was clenched and the tight grip he maintained with her mother's hand. Unbeknownst to Bela, this was going to be the last time that she was going to see her grandfather alive.

Walking into the farmhouse, Bela remembered how frail her grandfather looked in his cot. He lifted his head and offered her a weak smile.

"My dear, Bela," his voice was barely above a whisper. Bela desperately tried to prevent any tears from escaping, but seeing the ghost of a man she remembered as being vibrant broke her young heart. Before she could break down, her father's voice boomed angrily.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?!" Her father's voice shook slightly, though Bela could not tell if it was from rage or sadness.

"What difference," the old man responded coolly, "would that have made?"

Bela's mother placed a hand on her father's shoulder, a desperate attempt to calm him down.

"I do not wish to argue, Jacob," Bela's grandfather said, meeting his son's furious gaze. "I know that I've made mistakes. I just wanted to tell you goodbye and give you the chance to say the same." Suddenly, he bent over in a violent fit of coughing, forcing Bela's father's gaze to cool into concern.

“...and for you, my special granddaughter, I want you to have this,” he managed to choke out, handing Bela an envelope enclosed by a vibrant purple seal, bearing the Rivers family crest, a pair of swans facing each other with the phrase, a flumine perduraverit, written between them.

Before she had a chance to open it, Bela’s grandfather blurted out, “No, no, don’t open it yet...Have patience, my dear.”

Her grandfather smiled weakly before continuing on, “Now, listen close...There will come a day where you feel crushed by the burden of modern life, and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my child, then you will be ready for this gift. Now, let grandpa rest...”

A few weeks went by before her grandfather finally passed. Bela's father quietly had him buried on the property without a funeral and refused to go back. Or at least, until now.

While Bela sat at her desk bored, her parents were currently boarding a train to Pelican Town in order to find the proper documents to sell Riverland Farms. They planned to use the money to fund their retirement and help Bela get her own apartment.

I wonder what’s in the letter that Grandpa left me, Bela mused, swirling a pencil between her fingers. She let out an exasperated sigh and decided that it was finally time to begin her work. Not even five minutes into crunching numbers the phone on her desk began to ring.

“Good afternoon from Joja Corporations, this is Bela. How can I be of assistance?” Bela answered perkily, rolling her eyes at the spiel she was taught to spit.

“Bela Rivers,” a serious voice responded, “you are wanted in Mr. Jameson’s office.”

Bela immediately straightened up in her seat and her heart rate quickened as she realized that she was being summoned to her superior’s office.

Damn it, she cursed to herself. Ms. Boerhen ratted me out to the big boss.

Bela took a quick breath before replying calmly, “Of course, I’ll be right there.”

She quickly placed the phone back on the receiver and stood up, mentally preparing herself for a scolding for her less than desirable performance. As she walked down the hallway to Mr. Jameson's office, she silently began to berate herself for wasting such a golden opportunity. Her heels clicked loudly like the hands of a clock, counting down the seconds until she was out of a job.

As she stood outside of Mr. Jameson’s door, Bela closed her eyes briefly and knocked raptly.

“Ms. Rivers, you may come in.”

Bela pushed the door gently, surprised to see the amount of people in the office. At the giant desk made entirely of glass, sat Mr. Jameson, a stocky man dressed in a sharp, yet dull grey suit that matched his seemingly lifeless expression. Next to him, sat a meek looking woman in a similarly bland pantsuit who avoided looking in Bela’s direction. Across from them sat two men wearing long black coats over simple business casual wear. When she entered the room, the older of the two gentlemen stood up, clutching a gold badge in his right hand.

“Hello Ms. Rivers, my name is Detective Hanlon,” the man then gestured to his more youthful companion, “and my partner Detective Gaumond.”

“Detectives?” Bela questioned, wondering why the hell the police were getting involved with her lack of productivity. You can’t be arrested for being lazy, right?

“Yes, unfortunately Ms. Rivers, there seems to have been an accident on the tracks near The Mountain.”

Bela’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t believe what the detective was saying. “W-what? What happened?”

The younger detective briefly made eye contact with Bela, a genuine sadness in his eyes before he ducked his head.

“I’m afraid that your parents, Mr. Jacob and Mrs. Kiera Rivers, were both killed in the rockslide on their way to Pelican Town.”

The young detective stood up and gave her a pitying look, “I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Ms. Rivers. This has been an unfortunate accident. These types of natural disasters are completely unpredictable.”

It was as if Bela had been sucker punched right in the chest. She stood there in complete disbelief until a faint whisper of a memory tickled the back of her mind.

“Wait,” Bela said coldly, moving her eyes over to the two behind the desk who refused to meet her gaze, “hasn’t Joja been mining in The Mountain?”

Mr. Jameson quickly looked over at the woman to his side, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple. The woman sheepishly looked up, desperately trying to avoid Bela’s cool glare.

“Yes, they have,” she admitted, glancing over at the two detectives, “However, it is too early to say whether Joja’s mining directly contributed to the rockslide, seeing as that is a natural disa-”

“Bullshit!” Bela interrupted, her voice steadily raising in anger. “You KNOW that you killed my parents!”

“Settle down, Bela,” Mr. Jameson snapped, “This was just an unfortunate accident. You can take the week off to settle your affairs.”

“Take a week off?” Bela’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that all my parents’ lives were worth? That’s all I get? Not even an apology?”

“Ms. Rivers,” the woman quipped, “Joja Corporation is not liable for natural disasters. And as a Joja employee, you should remember that your contract states that you are not allowed to speak negatively about the company in any way.”

“I-Is that a threat?” Bela retorted, in shock at the audacity of this woman. “Are you threatening to sue me for telling the truth? That YOU killed my parents?!”

She shook her head angrily, not able to process the barrage of emotions hitting through her at that moment.

“You know what?” Bela spat, “I quit.” Bela turned on her heel, storming back to her cubicle.

Once there, she began grabbing all her personal items and shoved them into a cardboard box. When she finally got to the desk drawer that held her grandfather’s letter, she hesitated for a second before tearing the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper, the top one decorated with her late grandfather’s handwriting, saying:

Dear Bela,

If you are reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to my grandfather, long ago. He had lost sight of what mattered most in life; real connections with other people and nature. So, he decided to drop everything and move to the place where he felt like he truly belonged.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place, my pride and joy: Riverland Farm. It’s located on the southern coast of Stardew Valley, between Ridgeside Village and Pelican Town. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it is yours. I know that you will honor the family name, my child.

Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say hi to the old guy for me, will ya?

Bela’s eyes welled up with tears as she glanced at the second paper, the deed of Riverland Farm. She rushed to gather the rest of her belongings and walked out of the corporate office for the last time.

Before Bela knew it, she was gazing out the window of the bus she was on, heading to her new home. The trees blurred together in a sea of green as Bela allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts.

Maybe, Bela sighed, this fresh start is just what I need.

The bus slowed down to a stop at a small crossroads. Once Bela exited the bus, she was approached by a cheerful redhead.

“Hello! You must be Bela,” she smiled warmly. “I’m Robin, the local carpenter. I don't know if you remember me, since it's been a few years since you've last visited, but I'm Sebastian and Maru's mom.”

Bela smiled back hesitantly, before memories of an awkward, spiky-haired emo wannabe flittered into her head. “Hi, Robin, it’s nice to see you again, though I was expecting Mr. Meyer.”

“Oh, Mayor Lewis sent me here to fetch you and show you the way to your new home. He’s tidying things up for your arrival.” Robin turned, and began walking down the dirt path, gesturing for Bela to follow. “The farm’s right over here, if you’ll follow me.”

Bela listened intently as Robin began to relay different stories of some of her most difficult jobs. After a few moments they approached the dilapidated Riverland Farm. Bela was astounded at how unkempt the land was, littered with overgrown patches of grass and rotting crops.

“Yeah,” Robin shyly rubbed the back of head, “this farm has definitely seen better days. However, there is still good soil underneath.”

Suddenly, the farmhouse door opened, and a kind older man stepped out with a head full of grey hair and a matching moustache.

“Ah, our newest farmer!” he chuckled lightly, “Welcome back, Bela! In case you've forgotten, I’m Lewis, the mayor of Pelican Town.”

His eyes twinkled mischievously, “You know, everyone’s been asking about you. It’s not every day that someone new moves in. And it's even rarer when someone comes back. It’s quite a big deal!”

Robin nodded in agreement. “With the increased taxes, more people have been leaving Pelican Town than staying.”

Mayor Lewis shot Robin a warning glance before continuing his welcome speech, “So, you’re moving into your grandfather’s old cottage.” He sighed deeply; eyes lost in thought as he remembered his old friend.

Bela offered him a gentle smile, “He mentioned that the two of you were old friends.”

Lewis returned the smile, “Yes, we were. Well, you've inherited a good house...very ‘rustic’.”

Robin chuckled, “Well, that’s one way to put it.”

“Oh, don’t be rude,” Lewis shook his head, “Don’t listen to her, Bela. Robin just wants you to hire her for upgrades.” Robin rolled her eyes playfully in response.

“Well,” Lewis directed his attention back to Bela. “You must be tired from your long journey. You should get some rest. Tomorrow, you ought to explore the Town Square and reintroduce yourself to some folks. The townspeople would appreciate that.”

With that, both Robin and Lewis took their leave of Riverland Farm.

Now, Bela thought, gazing at the acres of overgrown land. What the FUCK am I going to with all of this?

#stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fic #sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv fic #ambiguoslyambitious thoughts #stardew lewis #stardew valley lewis #stardew robin #stardew valley robin #sdv lewis #sdv robin #mayor lewis #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3 story #ambiguoslyambitious fics

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appples · 4 years

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Oh, Cats (7/10)

pairing: Aizawa x Reader (OC)

genre/warning: 18+

words: 3,135

summary: An average girl with a cat quirk starting over in a new city, as typical as usual. Until it’s not. You drop into someone’s life unannounced and not necessarily wanted.

You swore up and down every day leading up to the performance that you objected to the whole thing and that you did not want to be the lead in a cat idol group at the school festival. Who had even come up with this idea in the first place? It has to be Mic and Midnight. Only those two would encourage you to play up your cat features in such a provocative way. None of that mattered the moment your eyes met Shouta's in the crowd. You regretted nothing. He was looking at you as if you were glittering amongst the lights, like a prism emitting a rainbow. At that moment, it felt as if nothing else existed outside of you for him while you danced.

Honestly, Shouta never seemed like the sort of person to enjoy idol groups. It was incredibly surprising to see him there, not working but participating. Although calling it participating would be a bit of a stretch, he mostly stood quietly with his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. His eyes traced the hem of your layers of ruffles as they left soft reminders of your movements while you glided across the stage, seeming more cat-like than ever. You almost missed the beginning of the next dance before you broke away from blushing at Aizawa, instead now diligently performing the moves you had been practicing for weeks. It was your standard idol type show with lots of jumping and cute dancing, including the addition of cat-like details and emphasis. One thing, unlike other idol shows, was Midnight was in charge of costumes, and that didn't leave much to the imagination with how tight and short the dresses were. Aware that if you threw your hip too high when making a turn that a select few members of the audience would see under all those ruffles, and that's just what you did as you turned away from Shouta. Adding a cheeky, playful smile with a flash of your fangs. By the end, the whole audience was cheering along, and you left the stage with a roar of applause. Midnight came up to you as you walked backstage,

"That was amazing! You had the crowd going, especially someone in particular" she threw her arm around you and jested. You couldn't bring yourself to meet her eyes, instead opting to look down in a feeble attempt to hide your embarrassment.

"I…I had a lot of fun" you raised your head, but you knew better than trying to fool Midnight. She could see what you were and were not saying.

"I saw you make good use of the costumes" She smirked, thinking about how she saw you dancing for Aizawa. "It's okay if you don't want to admit it, but I'm always here for girl talk," Midnight winked at you and departed for the change room. Despite her leaving, you could still feel someone nearby, turning around to find Shouta making his way towards you. You gave him a shaky smile as you both made eye contact again; it was difficult to tell who was blushing more.

"You guys put on a great performance. The crowd loved it"

"T-thanks! I've never done something like this before, so I was nervous," your ears twitched as you laughed anxiously, hoping he didn't overhear Midnight.

"You didn't seem nervous at all." There was a long silence punctuated with the sound of your tail moving as you scrambled to find something to say. "Are you going out with everyone tonight?" Aizawa saved you.

"I hadn't answered yet, are you?"

"Same for me," this was a lie. He had adamantly declined to attend until he saw you on stage. "Would you like to go together?" Your heart was racing.

"Okay! Sure!" You beamed at him, resulting in one of his rare, genuine smiles. "Just give me a few minutes to change, and we can head out," Aizawa nodded. You ran off, nearly skipping towards the change room.

"Shouta, You should have said there was no time to change so she would wear that outfit all night. Because I'm betting, it may have been one of the reasons you changed your mind on the invite" Midnight winked at Aizawa as he moved away from her sudden presence, glaring at her. The pair had known each other since attending UA themselves, and by this point, in their friendship, she knew just how far to push him and how to handle his grumpy demeanor.

"You changed quickly," Aizawa huffed.

"Oh, don't be like that. It's painfully obvious. You're not fooling anyone."

"Stop, you don't know what you're talking about."

"Jesus Christ Shouta, it's getting to the point where I'm starting to think you believe your bullshit. You are allowed to be happy; you know that...right? No one can be the hero all the time-" he cut her off.

"You're wrong," he stared at Midnight. The sadness in his eyes never left after the work-study incident as a UA student. Silence filled the space between them, neither wanting to bring up the reality of their memories.

You saw Aizawa and Midnight talking as you exited the change room, although neither looked to be in a good mood. Tepidly you approached, not wanting to get in their way,

"Hello?" You tried to play it casual but ended up sounding confused and high pitched. Both teachers took notice immediately. Whatever was happening between them quickly melted away. Midnight was the first one to jump in,

"Okay! So, do either of you have the address?"

"Is it the usual place?"

"Mhm, usual arrangement for rooms if they're needed too."

"Alright, I should have the address already. Is there anyone else that needs a ride up?" Your heart sank a little but was also relieved you wouldn't be alone with him for such a long period. Midnight noticed your disappointment.

"Oh, don't worry, everyone is accounted for already," Midnight sneered, almost getting away with her lie until Mic walked up behind the trio.

"What's this I hear, you trying to leave me behind? I'm the life of the party!" Aizawa shot daggers at Midnight, but she just kept smiling.

"Oops, my mistake. I will see you guys there! Try to get there before that storm rolls in" She pointed overhead, taking off before anyone had the chance to question her.

The three of you made your way over to Aizawa's car, Mic diving for shotgun before you even had a chance to consider it. Happily climbing into the back seats. Car rides were always enjoyable for you because it was another way to take all your surroundings in a different setting. Aizawa speedily took off once everyone was settled. First, making his way off campus and then through backroads, you didn't know existed in the city. Mic couldn't make up his mind today on what he wanted to listen to, subjecting everyone in the car to only hearing about the first thirty seconds of each song. Both him and Aizawa were chatting on and off, although it was mostly Mic talking at Aizawa. You were happy to stay out of the conversation and watch the scenery change from a rainy suburban to a rural area with trees lining both sides of the street, gently swaying in the wind.

"Can you please just settle on a song and let it play? You're starting to give me a headache" Aizawa never took his eyes off the road.

"What are you talking about? I'm just trying to find the right tunes for that perfect main character vibe" Mic readjusted his shades before realizing how dark out it had gotten. Fishing out his regular glasses, he swapped them.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" It was sounding like Aizawa was already done with Mic before the night really started. You smiled as you continued to listen to the two butt heads.

A loud bang from the rear of the car silenced the pair. Rapidly the vehicle dropped to the right, sending it into a fishtail spin. Startled, Aizawa momentarily hit the brakes triggering the car to lock up. Rain still falling heavily, the automobile slid across the compromised surface. Everyone in the car ran through a scenario if they could use their quirk to get them out of this situation but unfortunately, none of them had anything that would help. All three screamed and held onto something. The car when headfirst into the ditch, landing with the loud crash and sound of compacting steel.

"Is everyone okay?" Aizawa took charge of the situation. You opened your eyes, not even realizing you had closed them when the car crashed.

"All's good here." Mic shakily quipped.

"I-I'm okay too." You looked up into the rearview mirror and caught Aizawa looking back at you, "But you're not Shouta!" The seatbelt held you, prisoner, as you tried to lean forward. Mic looked over to his friend.

"Dude, are you okay? Because it's not looking the way."

"It's fine. It's superficial." Aizawa pushed his hair back out of his face and took a look at the bleeding cut on his forehead. He pulled out wipes from the center console and cleaned up the blood that had ran down his face. Looking into the mirror again, he saw your concern and spoke directly to you, "I promise, I really am okay." You still had your suspicions.

"Uhm, I can help you with that. It's a little weird, though."

"I don't understand. What do you mean by weird?"

"My quirk gives me some very mild healing abilities, but I hate telling people about it. To use it, I have to lick the affected area." No matter how many times you explained it, it still made you uncomfortable.

"Probably a good idea to deal with this before anyone else sees it," remarked Aizawa. The three of you got out of the car and inspected the damage; the vehicle was staying exactly where it was for the evening. You gave Shouta a tug on his jacket arm,

"I need you to come down lower. I can't reach you" Aizawa dropped down to one knee before you, his face at about breast level. Trying your best not to think about how it felt to run your fingers through his hair again as you moved it out of the way and tilted his head up before leaning down to drag your tongue over his cut. Instantaneously you saw it begin to disappear and let his hair fall back in place. Mic had pulled out his phone and gone to work to locate where the trio was exactly,

"Hey, we're actually not too far from the place. It's saying it's a ten-minute walk tops, but does anyone have an umbrella?" It was pouring rain, and everyone was already soaked through. Your ears angled backward in disapproval.

"Yeah, there should be a couple at least in the trunk" In fact, there were two. Aizawa handed you one and took the second for himself and Mic. It made you laugh a little watching two grown men trying to share one umbrella while you had room to share. You neglected to say anything for the duration of the walk.

Before walking through the door, you can hear Midnight, who had obviously been there a while. As the three of you entered the establishment, the entire table of school faculty erupted in cheers. A few exchanging bets made if and who would show up out of the three of you. Presumably, the owner of the business came over right away and began speaking with Aizawa. As they continued discussing the accommodations, another employee quietly ran upstairs with stacks of bedding, towels, and yukatas. Taking off your soaking shoes felt like a relief until you noticed your socks were equally as wet and very likely to make a mess. Soon the host motioned for the three of you to follow him upstairs, where he led you to the rooms.

"Unfortunately, we only have one double room left, but there is another room with only one of your coworkers occupying it."

"That's fine," Aizawa curtly replied, "We can decide who sleeps where," he said as he extended his hand for the room keys. The hoss graciously hands them over, indicating which key is for the empty room and the already occupied room before retreating back downstairs to continue helping with the table of rowdy teachers.

"I'm still absolutely soaked," you remarked as you shook the remaining water off your tail and ears.

"Here, take the vacant room and get changed." Aizawa handed you the key before turning back to Mic, who had a very quizzical expression across his face. Without hesitation, you took the key and headed to the room. Everything was quickly stripped down to your underwear, and those promptly came off as well. All of which you managed to spread out methodically in hopes of drying them before tomorrow. You took the folded yukata into your hands and observed the material's intricate pattern before proceeding to follow the steps of putting on the garment. Once dressed, you opened the door to find both Aizawa and Mic still standing outside. Attempting to apologize for taking so long, Mic waved you off. You smiled before joining the others.

"Finally! Come over here. I have a seat for you!" Midnight stood up and leaned over the table as she shouted at you once you were in her sight. Laughing to yourself and wondering how this night would go, you made your way over and sat next to Midnight. Opening her mouth and leaning, you braced yourself for a barrage of questions that never quite came,

"You looked soaked when you got here. I bet you're not wearing anything under that" Midnight lacked volume control on a good day, and that was only amplified after a few drinks. Naturally, the whole table heard. There was no chance for you to hide the redness in your face and bristling of your tail. More footsteps were coming down the stairs,

"Leave her alone Midnight, she's too sober for your teasing," Aizawa said in his usual flat tone. But Midnight was right. You weren't wearing anything. Making eye contact with Aizawa was almost too much. You had to look away in a panic when you realized he likely saw all your clothes laid out in the room.

"Oh common, don't be such a grump here too." Midnight jested, but Aizawa seemed to take no notice, proceeded to sit in the empty seat next to you. A round of drinks for the table was ordered while you were changing, and you were now presented with a glass. Mic seemed to arrive without your notice, signaling a loud resonating "kampai" from the entire table before taking a long, generous drink.

It was becoming more of a rare occurrence for you to drink, which had its benefits, but at times like this, it presented several drawbacks. There was no chance you had at keeping pace with your peers. By the time you were on your third drink, you had lost count as to which drink everyone else was on. Feeling the warmth inside from the alcohol and couldn't stop yourself from smiling all night. Laughs were being had all around, and you swore you caught Aizawa smiling and even laughing a little without a trace of sarcasm. You hadn't realized until then that he had tied half his hair back, likely when he changed earlier. His smile radiated when his face wasn't obstructed. Some pieces had fallen out of place, and all you wanted to do was push them back, tucking them behind his ear.

Mic leaned onto the table, audibly sighing and drawing out his phone in an exaggerated way. Everyone gave him their immediate attention.

"I took some great pictures tonight." The first photo to appeaser was one he had taken during the idol portion of the festival. Shouta leered at him.

"Oh my God, look at Sho's face!" Midnight cackled and made her way over to inspect the photo closer. You were a little drunk and slightly confused; obviously wanting to see what the fuss was about, you leaned in. Mic was able to get a photo of Aizawa watching you while you danced, both you and Aizawa completely unaware until now. Seeing the documentation of Aizawa’s reaction to you sent you into a flurry of embarrassment. Trying to hide your face, you went to sit back down, but thanks to the alcohol, your balance was gone. To regain your equilibrium, you reached out, inevitably placing your hand on Aizawa's inner thigh without realizing it. Slowly you returned to your seat, still unaware of where your hand was but noticing that someone else was holding it in place. For a while, neither of you made eye contact, simply enjoying the warmth of holding each other’s hand. Finally, you looked at him. He carried the same stoic expression as always, but you swore there was a hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips. Soon you gave his hand a light squeeze before withdrawing yours, and standing up, the drinks had finally made their way through, and a bathroom break was needed. To get to the washroom, you had to pass over Shouta but were entirely unsure how given the awkward seating set up. Instead, he stood up as well and moved out of the seating area, giving you room to exit comfortably. You smiled and silently nodded in appreciation. Despite having shared intimate moments together and working together for a few months now, small interactions like this still made you shy and awkward.

Returning to the table, you were happy to take in the scene of your coworkers smiling and laughing, forgetting about the harsh realities of their jobs and the world you all inhabit. Aizawa stood up and let you gracefully sit back down before returning to his seat. It was comfortable spending time with your faculty. Several of them were incredibly outgoing and happily carried the conversations for the night, allowing you to interject and be a passive member of the table. The more drinks that arrived, the louder Mic, Midnight, and a few others got. For you, sleepiness began to wash over. As it took its hold, your ears drooped, and you felt yourself wavering, slowly falling to the side. Your head fell on Aizawa's shoulder, tail gently curving around him. Totally unsure about what he should do, he gently positioned you that allowed you to partially curly up in his lap like a cat. Giving you a gentle pet behind the ears before returning to the table conversation.

Soon people began retiring to their rooms, Aizawa taking the opportunity to carry you to your room.

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