#this is inspired by me helping shave my partner

[cephalad-art]

Day Three: Domesticity

For the third day of @zukkaweek here’s my story idea.

Imagine Sokka asking Zuko to help him do his undercut.  He used to have Katara or Gram Gram help him get the back, but now he’s doing it alone and he feels like there are some spots in the back he’s been missing.  

Thing is, Zuko is kind of an intense guy.  He doesn’t like to be anything other than perfect and competent.  I can absolutely see him acting the same way in completely mundane activities at home.  

So Zuko sits Sokka down and gets started. This could work as a modern AU with clippers or in the canon universe with a knife, razor, rock, etc.  If you’ve ever shaved someone’s head, you know that it isn’t as straightforward as it seems.  Hair grows in different directions and the scalp crinkles.  So Zuko would be mega focused just trying to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt Sokka or mess up his hair.

Now Sokka would be accustomed to getting his hair done, so he wouldn’t be too stressed. I think he would be super touched watching Zuko shave him though.  He’d just be staring in the mirror at his adorable boyfriend crinkling his forehead trying so very hard to do it right.  I can just imagine Sokka’s heart melting a little bit more as Zuko puts Sokka’s head against his own chest to get a better angle at a certain spot, or oh so carefully pulls his ear away to get the hairs around it. 

Idk, the thought of Sokka looking up at a focused Zuko holding his head in the candlelight just soothes so much of my sads.

[erenthology]

Eren chronicles

It’s my pumpkins birthday in 5 days, here’s something quick i wrote.

Not proofread so excuse mistakes for now

Content: smut, a bit fluff(?) and yeah. Eren is annoying but that’s why i love him. I was scrolling down TikTok and saw this video, which suddenly inspired this fic

“Babe, I really don’t get what I’m supposed to do”

Your boyfriend isn’t the brightest when it comes to social media, he prefers spending his time with you

“It’s just a trend, Eren. It’s for my tiktok” you swift your hand as a sign for him to hurry

The trend is to put your partner in positions they put you in during sex. Eren doesn’t know this though. You told him it was a trend to see how flexible he was

He sulks as he walks to you, “can i get tummy rub’s after?”

“Down”

“Like this?” He asks with his back pressed against the floor

“Like this?” He asks with his back pressed against the floor

“Like this?” He asks with his back pressed against the floor

“Mhm, now press your knees to your chest”, you notice him hesitate yet he follows through anyway. “Babe, am i doing a good job?”

“Of course baby, now spread your legs but like, keep them pressed up against your chest”. Eren loves to put you in a mating position while fucking you, claiming seeing your face helps him cum better. Which is bull. Anything gets him off, he just likes to see you struggle

You silently let out a laugh at how adorable he looks, he’s smiling so hard thinking he’s proving to you that he’s flexible

“Now sit on the couch and spread your legs”

He now seems to be invested now since he quickly follows. “Bounce up and down, you should feel a stretch”

He raises an eyebrow, “up and down?”.

You stepped in front of him with your phone to show him a pose you found on google. “Yes, apparently it’s a good burn, especially when using weights”

“You could be my weight. Hop on this dick for me?”

sick fuck

You expected a smug smile on his face but the man seemed serious as he was eyeing you up and down. “Omg? Is sex all you ever think about?”

“Yeah?” he replies as if you asked a dumb question. “It was a rhetorical question, Eren. Now get on with it i need to post this video”

He’s wearing his grey joggers, low waisted of course. Your boyfriend also seems to be allergic to wearing shirts, claiming it feels “suffocating”(???)

After getting the perfect clip of him looking all focused, basically riding the couch, you present the third pose. His go to when he’s horny.

“Great, now turn around for me baby. Put your knees on the couch”. He likes to take you from the back with your panties on. sick. He even bought a bunch of miniskirts for you to wear, easy access for your perverted boyfriend to peek through

“Like this?“ he asks. You’re glad the camera is hiding the ugly smirk on your face

“Yeah, just like that. Now just bend, like, arch your back a bit for me” you add.

He didn’t oblige.

“Eren?”

Your boyfriend slowly turns his face towards you as you lower your phone. He stands up, facing your way. As he stands in front of you, he places a strand of hair behind your ear

“You think I wouldn’t catch on?” he whispers in your ear while taking the phone from your hand, placing it on the counter. “Did dummy try to trick Eren?”

Your face grows hot at the quick change in the atmosphere. Breath hitching, you try to collect your words “what” you nervously laugh, “it’s only a tren-“

“Did you enjoy making fun of me?” he interrupts while dragging you to the couch. You need to talk to him about the manhandling. You know better than to answer

“Ass up”

You bite your lip as you take in a shaky breath, “no, I haven’t shaved”. Even though he’s told you countless of times he doesn’t care. He might even like it better

He does not respond well to this. “Fucking so? Ass. Up.” as the stares right into your eyes

You’re only wearing his t-shirt with some panties on. Carefully, you bend over on the couch as Eren really takes his time to look. The silence making you a bit nervous at first

“Pretty”, is all he says. His hands are roaming around your body with your now pushed up shirt. Fingers grazing over your nipples. Moving down to your panties, pushing them aside as he takes a deep inhale of your cunt. You squirm to get away but he pulls you back

“Don’t try to hide from me. I want to see you” to which you only whimper in respons

The pad of his thumb moves up, circulating around the small of your back, gradually pressing himself up against your sex, very slowly. He’s bucking his hips into you

His hips meet yours and you can feel his shaft press agains you. You’re having clothed, patient sex. And god does it feel lewd

Upon your breathless whimpers, he asks, “do you like this?”. You do, you really do. “Mhm” you moan quietly. Eren laughs in response, which has you questioning what’s so funny

He turns you around so you’re now facing each other, and plops his body weight down on yours. You’re skin to skin with only a pair of joggers and your panties in the way. His head rests on your neck and there it is, another laugh

“You thought u could trick me, [name]?” It’s surprising to your how your boyfriend so quickly can shift the mood. It’s one of your favorite things about him, how unexpected he is. Your hands tangle his hair as you run your fingers through it, “it was a bit funny”

He’s hugging you tightly, placing featherlight kisses on your neck. “Ren, it tickles” you frown, trying to push his head away. He responds by kissing your nose, and pecking your lips a solid 3 times. Making his way down to your boobs, rubbing his face in between them. The hands that were behind your back, slowly move down to your hips.

Rutting them against him

“Look at what you did to me. Do you feel how hard i am?”

Before you can speak, he closes the distance between your lips, engulfing your tongue in his. “Need more Ren” you breathe out.

he thinks you’re so cute. The looks he’s giving you makes you instantly blush. The way he’s caressing your face, smiling down at you. It only deepens the frown on your face.

“I want you do get on your knee’s” now he’s the one to instruct. You consider not following but decided to save yourself the trouble. Once you’ve obliged, he eyes your body hungrily. “Now stuff yourself with your fingers for me”

not what you had in mind. “Wha—“

“You heard me, i want you to bounce on your finger for me” he repeated, using a tone more stern. Warning you not to question him. You’re looking at him like he just stole your food, confusion plastered all over your face. “Kay” you nod

He helps spread your legs before sitting back, pulling his sweats down.

Of course he was free balling.

While maintaining eye contact, you bring your hands down to your folds. Ghosting over your swollen clit with your fingers. The look on your face has Eren slowly stroking his cock. “Play with yourself”

You oblige by entering your dripping cunt with your finger. The intrusion has you biting down on your bottom lip. All while Eren spreads his precum on his shaft. Hips jerk forwards as you both fuck yourselves on your hands

Your skin heats up at the imagine of both of you getting off to each other. Adding a second finger to your cunt that creates wet sounds that only brings Eren closer

“Fuck you’re so sloppy” he breathes out. He feels his muscles tensing, fastening his pace

Your pacing is desperate and definitely not enough. “Need you Eren, please” your blurting pleads out as you keep rolling your hips on your fingers.

The image pushes Eren over the edge as he reaches his peak. Fucking his hand through his orgasm as thick ropes of cum land on his stomach. He cum’s very hard. Seeing him whine only brings you closer to finish

Once regaining his breath, he walks up to you and take your fingers out of your cunt. You could die of happiness, nothing and no one has ever made you cum better than Eren has. The need of release almost brings tears to your eyes

He notices your enthusiasm and reincorporates it with a reassuring smile. Slowly bringing your fingers into his mouth to suck them off. Then leaving a wet kiss against your lips. One that has you melting at the feeling on his tongue circling around yours

You take a deep breath in await for what’s to come

Eren scoops up his cum with two of his fingers and pushes it into your cunt. “Yeah, get you real nice and full”

he’s whispering a lot disgusting things while focusing on his task. Not that you care. His fingers feel so different than yours, you feel so stuffed already

“Baby?” he meets your face. “Hmm?” Is all you can gather yourself to respond with

“Good luck getting off by yourself” he cheekily smiles, taking his fingers out of you

what did he just say?

He pushes his sweatpants up and quickly puts a hoodie on. “I’m going to Armin’s, let me know if you need anything” is all he says with a smug expression

“Eren, seriously don’t you dare—“

“Oh and btw, that yoga thing? I’d love to see you in a few poses when i get home. I’ll have a lot of fun with ya” is the last thing he adds before winking and leaving the house

You’re left dumbfounded, you never got off. He’ll definitely pay for this one

*ring*

“[name?]”

Bingo

“Jean, would you be down for a TikTok video? It’s just a trend where i test out your flexibility”

[xddaengx]

Play Along : The series ⎜ pt 2

✧ Pairings: Seventeen x Reader ⎜ Woozi x Reader ⎜ Mingyu x Reader

✧ Genre: Poly AU! ⎜ Idol AU ⎜ Established Relationship ⎜ Romance ⎜

✧ Warnings: Protected Sex⎜ Female Oral ⎜ Insecure Partners ⎜ Poly AU ⎜ Soft Dom!Woozi⎜ Soft Sex ⎜Slight Overstimulation ⎜

✧ Word Count: 3.3 k

✧ Summary: Your boyfriend proposes the idea, that he shares you with his 12 best friends.

✧ Author’s Note: This is inspired by my kinktober post "Play Along" I decided to turn it into a series with all 13 members, each member will get one chapter. Let me know who should I post next?

(UNEDITED)

“Well if he’s producing, I don’t want to interrupt him.” You say quietly into the phone, bowing slightly at the waist to the people you past on the way to the studio.

“You won’t be interrupting him, he knows you’re coming, he said he’s excited. And besides he works so hard, I’m sure a beautiful interruption like yourself won’t bother him too much.” Mingyu replies his voice crackling over the phone, loud music playing in the background as his members shout their hellos through the phone.

“As long as you warned him, last time Hoshi tried to interrupt his work and sneak up on him, Hoshi almost had his eyebrows shaved off.” You whisper into the phone, the frosted glass door coming into view, “universe factory” printed in large black letters.

“Don’t worry he won’t shave your eyebrows while you sleep, he’s only tried to do it with me, so far.” Hoshi speaks into the phone, chuckling at the memory. You roll your eyes stopping in front of the door.

“Alright, I’m here. I’ll hang up now.” You say softly, Mingyu agreeing.

“Remember to relax, I think you’re the only person Woozi actually likes, so just take it easy. He said to just put in the code when you get there cause he might have his headphones on and he can’t hear with them on.” Mingyu says before giving the phone a large smooch sound, promising to see you tomorrow when he gets home. You hang up the phone, tucking it back into the handbag at your side, reaching out to put the code into the key panel beside the studio door.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” A voice says softly, the door being pulled open before you can even press the first button, Woozi giving you a shy smile.

“Oh, Mingyu said you might’ve been working so I was going to let myself in.” You mumble, toeing off your shoes and following Woozi inside the studio, the size of it taking you by surprise.

“Wow, this place is looking good, you really have a knack for decorating.” You smile, looking at the various art works on the walls, and the large neon sign hung up on the wall.

“Yeah, it took a while but it’s finally looking how I wanted it. Did you want a drink or anything?” Woozi asks, moving to take your bag from you and place it on the rack besides the door. You shake your head softly, taking a seat on the white couch in the corner of the room, your eyes still trailing around the room taking in all the decorations.

“I heard you and Hoshi has some fun the other night. I’ve never actually seen him so relaxed before, said it was the best he’s slept in months.” Woozi says, quietly taking a seat on the other end of the couch, sipping on a bottle of cold water in his hand.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m still not entirely sure how this is supposed to work, it’s feels a little unreal at the moment.” You chuckle, avoiding Woozi’s gaze, his eyes fixed on you as you fidget in your seat.

“I mean I can hardly believe that you're here, I don’t think we’ve ever actually been alone in the same room before.” He adds, giving you a soft smile, before taking another sip of his water, finally redirecting his gaze. You watch as woozi looks around the room before refocusing back on you, placing the water on the table beside the couch, standing and moving his way in front of you.

“Look, I’m going to be really honest with you, since Mingyu told me you’d be swinging by today, I couldn’t help but think about how it was going to work. We rarely ever spend time together alone, I think we’ve only ever had four conversations sober and you can barely even look at me. I’m not going to be offended if you decide you don’t want to do anything with me, it wouldn’t be the first time someone has preferred the others over me.” Woozi begins, his hand clenched by his side, his body tense as he looks down at where you sit on the couch, his voice low.

“Woozi, it’s not that I do—“

“I understand we aren’t close, and that your taste is probably a little different, I mean Mingyu is the tallest in the group and I’m the shortest— Anyway I know that I’m not always peoples taste, or first option, and that maybe you’d rather just skip me and go to the next person… I really wouldn’t be offended.” He finishes, you mouth falling open as you watch him spiel, standing from the couch hovering tense in front of him.

“I think you’re misunderstanding the situation Woozi. I do want to do this, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t and frankly I don’t know what height has to do with anything, but this whole thing is still really new to me and I’m just not sure what people like and whether they like me or what they would even like to d—“ Woozi doesn’t waste another minute taking a large step forwards his hands reaching out to hold your cheeks as he pulls your face towards his own.

You lips find each other quickly, one of Woozi’s hands dropping from your face, sitting tightly on your waist as he pulls your bodies closer together. The two of you pull apart for a few seconds taking in deep breaths before reconnecting. Woozi walks you back towards the couch, keeping the two of your as close as possible as he guides you to lie down on the soft cushions.

“Thank you.” He whispers, pulling his lips away from your own for a few moments before reconnecting them to the skin of your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You question, your head automatically tilting back to give woozi better access to your bare skin. “Wait, no marking. Mingyu’s one rule.” You manage to hiss out as you feel Woozi begin to suck lightly on the skin. He nods gently going back to placing open mouth kisses to your neck and back up your jaw.

“For what you said.” He says between kisses. “For the reassurance.” He adds, his lips lining back up with yours, hovering just over the swollen skin. Woozi sit up a little further your legs rested against the lounge, bent at the knees on either side of his legs. “If you're comfortable with continuing I would really like if you took your shirt off.” He says gently tugging the hem of your shirt up slowly.

“Only if you take yours off too.” You laugh, smiling as Woozi rips his shirt off at the speed of light, his pale skin illuminated with the purple neon lights, you sit up pulling your own t-shirt over your head before laying yourself back down on the cushions, welcoming Woozi as he dives back towards your lips.

His hand are quick to find your thighs, pulling them further up till they sit comfortably around his waist, you can’t help but smile as your give his body a small squeeze with your legs, the man letting out a throaty groan, one hand bracing himself above you, as the other trails up your side slowly, tugging on the strap of your bra, baring the skin of your shoulder to him.

His kisses trail again, before he pauses pulling his head away from your neck.

“Is that a bite mark?” He questions looking down at the bruise on your neck, the indents of teeth still obvious. You nod slowly, a sheepish expression growing on your face. “Hoshi?” He questions and you nod again, biting your lip and he runs his thumb gently over the marking.

“I guess this is why Mingyu said no marking?” He asks again and you just grin. “Fair call to be honest. I’d be pissed if someone blemished such a piece of art.” Woozi coos, his hand moving your hair behind your ear as he looks down your body, his eyes lighting up as he takes in your red lace bra, the matching red thong riding up your ass.

“Is this for me? Or do you usually wear something this fancy?” Woozi asks, his hand brushing along the swell of your breast.

“For you. Mingyu said you’d like it, he brought twelve new sets the other day, one for each of you. Though this has to be the worst bra I’ve ever owned” You respond watching as Woozi continue to stroke your skin gently. He smiles, moving his hand to the back of the bra, unclasping it quickly before pulling it away from your body, you arms raising so he’s able to pull the bra completely off.

“Well, I appreciate the effort.” He mumbles, before diving towards your chest, taking one breast into his mouth quickly, giving a strong suck before rounding the nipple with his tongue, continuing his rotations a few times before moving his attention to your other breast.

Woozi releases your breast the cold air hitting your wet nipples, the tender skin stiffening to hard peaks, his kisses trailing further down your stomach until his reaches the button on your skirt.

“Does mingyu go down on you?” Woozi asks, the bluntness of his question surprising you. You nod, raising to your elbows to watch to man move around the couch, pushing his own body further down the couch till his face comes level with your pelvis. “Does he give you everything you deserve? Does he make your feel like you’re being worshipped?” Woozi continues both hand fiddling with the button and zipper at the top of your skirt, popping the metal open before shuffling the skirt and underwear down your legs until it's able to be discarded to the side.

Woozi raises your legs, your thighs placed on either side of his head, your calfs strung over his shoulder. “Breathe for me.” He adds, before diving into your folds. Woozi starts with long licks, the rhythm starting to build up, as you watch the man move his tongue up and down along your folds.

His hands latch onto your thighs, keeping your legs spread as his motions become more aggressive, his licking becoming faster, his teeth grazing over your clit every time he adjusts his position. You let out a small whine as Woozi sucks hard, his lips suctioning around your clit, as he sucks a few more times, your teeth grabbing onto your lip as you try to suppress the rising moans.

“Don’t be so mean, let me hear you.” Woozi mumbles, his face still pressed against your pussy, a cheeky grin spread along his face, as he uses his fingers to lightly spread your lips, maintaining eye contact as he presses his tongue hard against you, dragging it upwards.

“Shit.” You hiss, closing your eyes, letting yourself fall back against the couch enjoying the long strokes. You can’t help the loud whine that escapes you as you feel Woozi’s tongue enter you, the feeling of his lips spreading in a smile as he continues to move his tongue in and out of you, his tongue flicking against your folds every time he pulls his tongue out of you.

“Woozi, I need more.” You coo, reaching out to grip his hair, pulling his face away from your cunt, bringing it up towards your own face.

“What do you mean? It’s polite to use your words.” He says, his left hand finding its way to your entrance, two fingers slowly sinking inside of you, pumping slow and soft, the frustration bubbling inside of you.

“I need you inside of me… I want you inside of me.” You begin, the slight speed up of his fingers making you gasp, the two fingers curling gently when they bottom out inside of you. “Jihoon, please.” You whine, Woozi’s fingers stilling inside of you, his eyebrows raising as he looks down on you.

“Say that again.”

“What?”

“My name. Say my name again.” He groans his fingers pumping into you hard pulling the word out of you, much to his delight.

“Jihoon.” You coo, your hands raking up his back, leaving a trail of red along his back, as his fingers pump harder and faster, his lips capturing yours, the taste of yourself stinging your tongue.

“Cum for me… Cum for me, my precious ruby.” Woozi coos into your ear, his lips peppering kisses along the soft skin, adding a third finger, his hard motions yanking the orgasm from you.

“Good girl, such a precious jewel for me.” Woozi continues, his praises making your thighs clench as your try to close your thighs around his arm, his finger still pumping in and out of you, slowly. “Do you still want more?” He questions, your head nodding quickly as Woozi stands from the couch, reaching into his back pocket, before stripping himself of his pants and underwear, his cock standing hard and stiff in front of you.

You take deep breaths as you pull your thighs closed, watching the producer roll the condom on roughly, his eyes closing as his hand fists his own cock, clambering back onto the couch, his body stopping in front of your closed legs.

“Open up for me.” He says, his hand soft on your knees as he pries them open, his body quickly filling the gap. He strokes himself a few more times before pushing in gently, the feeling of him inside of you dragging a gasp out of you, your eyes squeezing shut. You feel his motions stop, his cock buried inside of you, his hand slowly moving up your body, pulling your arms up above your head, his hands lacing with yours keeping them above you. “Open your eyes, I want your full attention while I make you cum.” You manage to pry open, you watch as he leans forwards capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

“You know I wrote a song about you.” He says quietly, his hips slowly beginning to rock, his cock sliding in and out with ease, your mind using complete focus to keep your eyes open watching Woozi move.

“What are you talking about?”

“This first time we met, at the Christmas party, you wore that fitted satin red dress, with the matching heels and lipstick - I thought you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” Woozi explains, his hips speeding up, his rocking getting more forceful as his hand keep a tight grip on your, keeping you in place.

“Fuck.” You swear, your legs raising to wrap around Woozi’s waist, keeping the two of you connected as much as possible.

“And then I saw Mingyu walk up behind you and I knew there was no way anything would happen. It took me two and a half years before I started the song, but all I could think of whenever I saw you, was that stupid red dress.” Woozi continues, letting out a grunt as he takes both your wrists in one hand, his other reaching to the pillow on the back of the lounge, lifting your hips with his own tucking the pillow under your back, the angle pulling him deeper, before continuing his hard, fast pumps.

“Shit, I’m never going to forget this.” He grunts, his eyes raking over your body as he pumps harder, the force of his strokes jolting your body upwards.

“Jihoon, faster.” Woozi obliges quickly, letting go of your wrists so both hands can hold onto your hips, his own slamming into you at a speed you didn’t know the producer possessed. You arms fall over Woozi’s shoulders, his head dropping to your chest, kissing and sucking the skin, soft grunts falling from his lips.

“I hope you're close, cause I’m going to burst.” Woozi groans, his mouth taking in a nipple, suckling on it as you feel the second orgasm rain down, the heat from Woozi's body making your thighs clench around his waist, slowing down his thrusts but not able to stop them.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He cusses, his forehead leaning against your bare skin as his motions stop, his breathing heavy as you both fade back into the world.

“I can’t believe you just told me you wrote a song about me.” You chuckle, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, Woozi laying on top of you, his head pressed against your breastbone, his own chest mirroring your effort. “Was it a title track? Or a B side?” You question, trying to lighten the mood, Woozi grins placing a soft kiss to your collarbone.

“Ruby…Ruby was the song that was about you.”

+

+

“Honey, I’m home.” Mingyu’s voice rings through the apartment, the loud closing of the door making you drop the paperback on the bed besides you, page face down to keep your spot.

“In the bedroom.” You call back, adjusting your position on the bed, to sit up against the pillows pulling the glasses off your face. You smile as Mingyu rounds the corner, his smile bright as his eyes find you. He’s quick to drop his duffle bag, pulling off his shirt diving for the bed. He had always liked skin to skin contact.

“Welcome home.” You chuckle as he crawls his way up the bed, his head falling heavily on your chest as your arms wrap around him, placing a kiss to the top of his head. “Did you guys have fun? You look a little bloated did you all eat ramen for every meal?” You coo, your hand stoking down his bare back, drawing little patterns on the skin.

“We may have eaten ramen a few times, not every meal though, and josh also cut us up some pineapple, so it was a balanced diet.” Mingyu defends, his head raising to look up at you his lips pouting. You lean down pressing a kiss to his lips before settling back against the pillows. “How was your time with Woozi? I see you still have eyebrows.” Mingyu jokes, his body melting as you continue the small pictures on his skin, the warmth lighting a fondness inside of you.

“It was good…He told me something strange though.” You begin watching your boyfriend as he hums for you to continue. “He said he wrote a song about me, said Ruby his mixtape song was supposed to be about me.” You laugh a little the absurdness hitting you as you say it out loud.

“Oh, yeah he mentioned something about that when he was writing it. He asked whether it was okay. I think the song suits you so it never bothered me.” Mingyu responds, his body seeming to get flatter against you with every stroke of your fingers.

“You don’t think it’s weird one of your best friends is writing a song about your girlfriend?”

“No, not really. I’m pretty sure they’ve all participated in at least one song about you. I mean good to me is about you, so is boom boom, actually there’s probably a lot of songs about you.” Mingyu admits, your jaw dropping as your hands stop their movements, Mingyu’s head shooting up to see what stopped his massage.

“Why have you never told me this?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“Well you thought wrong, I have songs written about me? I need to call my mum.” You whine, trying to slip away from the large puppy who chuckles at you, as you rummage around for your phone.

“By the way, we have a party to go to tomorrow night, it’s Seungkwan's belated birthday.” Mingyu adds once your phone is in your hand, you nod quickly, before slipping off the bed, hitting the dial button on your phone.

“Mum, you’ll never believe what mingyu just told me.”

[izzy-enjoyer]

Izzy hands NSFW alphabet (gnc reader)

18+ please!!!

inspired by @run-me-through-but-not-like-that ‘s sfw alphabet, definitely go follow them for some excellent izzy content!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

izzy is so soft and gentle with you after sex, he is such a puppydog - he would do anything for you. Water? you got it. A bath? he’s infiltrating the captains bathroom just to get you clean and comfy. Just a cuddle? say no more

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on him, he’s not so sure. he’s not unhappy with his body, he just never thought about what is particularly appealing about it. on you he’s especially partial to your thighs, and loves to leave little hickies on there too. if you have boobs he’ll be delighted to squish and rest upon them, if not he still loves your chest area, because it feels intimate to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

my boy,,, he cums a lot. look, he’s been so touch starved for years, and he finds himself too prideful to jerk off too often. so when he’s with you and really let’s loose there’s a lot going on. it tastes slightly salty, but not unpleasant

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he loves to get pegged/get fucked in the ass. it’s happened with Ed a couple of times (not going to mention how toxic their relationship was, he’s way better off with you), and while at first he felt ashamed and emasculated, he very quickly found himself enjoying it a lot.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

he’s had his fair share of sexual shenanigans when he was younger, but most of it was in his past. he certainly knows what he’s doing, but he’s a little rusty at first.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

anything where he can see your face and hold your hand. he’s a romantic at heart ok, he just loves you so much and can’t help but want to see all your expressions. he also does this to see if he’s “doing a good job”, he’s very adamant about pleasing you properly

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s not goofy at all lol. the only time you MAY see this man goofy is when you both bitch together about your irritations and make fun of people you don’t like. but in bed? never. he’s either too busy pleasing you, or being completely lost in cloud 9 pathetically trying not to cum immediately

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

pirates don’t really take the time to shave down there, no one really did at that time. if you asked him too he might find it strange but would certainly do it if that’s what you wanted. on you he doesn’t mind at all, he’s not scared to go properly down on you regardless, nose buried deep in your pubes. he’s no coward after all

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he tries his best to be intimate, but it’s very hard for him to let go completely at first. the first time you got him in sub-space he was on the verge of crying the whole time, just so happy to have someone he can be unashamedly open with. so after that it’s always very intimate, like i said he likes holding your hand and being as physically close to you as possible.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

like i mentioned he doesn’t pleasure himself very often, if at all. only when he’s more desperate than usual. he thinks he’s above it, thinking it’s a thing for people with less willpower than him. once he starts pining for you though, he gives in a bit more frequently - he just can’t help himself when it’s you on his mind

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

anal (on him), humiliation (on him), praise (both), corruption kink (on you, if you’re not a pirate), being submissive. hair pulling (on him) !!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

mostly his chambers, but if you tease him in a public place he won’t hesitate to beg you to jack him off right then and there.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

pretty much everything. this man is so touch starved and attention starved in general, that any positive attention gets him going. he’s ready whenever, as long as its ok with you and you’re not uncomfortable (consent king <3)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

not a lot tbh, but he doesn’t love degrading you in fear that you’ll think he’s serious and leave him. i think he doesn’t love inflicting pain on you in any way unless you explicitly ask for it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

this man was born to please, he loves sucking you off or eating you out, seemingly desperate to give you every ounce of pleasure he has to offer. he’s also been known to cum while going down on you, unable to resist your praise and pulling his hair

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

really depends. he loves it when you are fast and rough with him, but in the rare moments he tops he likes taking it slow, and really savor the moment with you

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

prefers to be able to take his time with the act, but again, if you tease him in public you might just have to sneak away for a quickie

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’s willing to experiment with you, but not super willing to take many risks. he might die on the spot if you ever got walked in on in the moment, so he prefers the safety of privacy

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

when he tops he can last pretty long, but when you dominate him he’s a goner. he can go for many rounds though, so the night is still long :))

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

wouldn’t mind toys being used on him, it kind of adds to his humiliation kink, but he prefers using his fingers or mouth on you as opposed to toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

if you catch him in a rare confident mood sexually, he might tease you. he also teases a bit during foreplay, but that’s mostly brattiness as he expects you to take over at any moment. mostly though, he’s too impatient and wants the pleasure just as bad as you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

gets pretty loud, the rest of the crew definitely knows what you’re up to. makes the most beautiful pathetic little moans, and grunts when he tries to hold back the embarrassing sounds

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Izzy expects himself at first to be controlling and dominant, but the second you just look at him or god forbid - smile at him, he just melts. he would do anything for you, so eager to please. he’s had some bad experiences with this before (namely with blackbeard), so you’ll have to guide him into the ropes of a healthy relationship. he’s forever grateful when you do though. ((i have so many izzy thoughts UGH))

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

pretty average length, but thicker than usual. he knows how to use it if you let him, and especially loves when you take it to the hilt, cock warming him until he can’t stand it anymore

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

he’s not crazy horny all the time, but he definitely yearns for you. he yearns for you in every way imaginable, and while his sex drive isn’t the absolute highest it doesn’t take him very long to get into the mood

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

not really. he’s so in awe of you, after you sleep with him he’s like a lost puppy and just wants to be as close to you as possible. he stares at you with so much love in his eyes, even after you’ve fallen asleep. loves watching you sleep actually, it’s one of the main reasons he doesn’t fall asleep immediately

[watermelonlovershigh]

A Hairy Situation /blurb/

AN: i had this in my drafts for about 2 weeks but hadn't proof read it until now because i wasn't sure if this concept was any good. i thought it may be weird but it was inspired by a tiktok i seen. also i just spent 30 minutes proof reading this and my computer decided to restart so i had to proof read this twice. at least is small so it didn't take too long to restart.

This story contains: talks of pubic hair, light embarrassment, reassurance

{ dad!harry - husband!harry - daughter age 2 }

word count: 608

While you're taking a relaxing bath, your daughter runs into the bathroom and decides to point out the fact you have pubic hair.

You're relaxing in the bathtub after a long day of running around with your two year old daughter. She really keeps you on your toes and makes you exhausted by the end of the day, each day. But your husband Harry is a true saint. He helps out with so much and you couldn't ask for a better partner. Like right now.

Harry is currently chasing your daughter around, trying to help her into some pajamas for bed, but she keeps running away from him. Her bare butt is flashing him as her curls bounce up and down. He wants to get aggravated with her but she's just too damn cute. Her little giggles fill the halls and before Harry knows it, your daughter runs right into your master bedroom and into your bathroom where you're our in the bath.

Before Harry has time to catch her, your daughter enters the bathroom and sees you laying back in the tub with your feet propped on the edges. You turn your head when you hear a laughing toddler and say, "What are you doing missy? Thought your daddy was putting your pjs on you?" She's seen you naked before so you don't even try and cover up. You are her mum after all.

Harry comes rounding the corner and enters the bathroom out of breath. Then he sees your daughter standing by the tub talking to you. Which he smiles at, watching the mother-daughter interaction. You look up behind your child's curls to see your husband standing there and watching. Hating that they bothered what was supposed to be a relaxing bath for you, Harry apologizes, "Sorry, love. She ran away from me before I could snatch her up."

"Its alright babe." you giggle.

Then out of nowhere, your daughter blurts out while pointing in the tub, "Mummy, yah got hair on your bum." Your face freezes with embarrassment. Did your child really point out the fact you have pubic hair and call your vagina your bum?

Harry has to hold back a laugh, not wanting to make you upset. Then he steps forward and scoops up the naked baby saying, "Okay, time to go little one." He looks down at you and mouths a 'sorry'.

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

Minutes later, Harry finally got your toddler dressed in her pjs and put to bed. You've gotten out the tub, doing your nightly routine. Harry comes back into the bathroom and wraps his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder, and looking ahead in the mirror.

"I can't believe she pointed at the fact I have pubes and called it my bum hair. How embarrassing." you mutter as you rub moisturizer on your face.

"She's only two love so don't feel too bad about it. She'll probably forget by tomorrow." Harry speaks softly in your right ear.

"Are you sure you don't want me to shave? I mean I could if you get tuned off by the hair or something." you question your husband, now feeling a bit insecure that you even have pubes.

"Baby, baby, baby, I don't care if you have pubes or not. I have pubes. Everyone has them. You don't need to shave for me, ever. Only if you want to, okay?"

"Okay, you're right. But I still can't believe she had to point to them and say I had butt hair." you laugh. Your laugh causes Harry to laugh behind you and you can feel his chest vibrate on your back. You love when you can laugh and make light out of embarrassing moments together. That's why Harry is your bestfriend, lover, and partner for life.

🎇(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITTING IS NOT EASY AND ITS FREE SO JUST DO IT)🎇

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @evanjh // @harryhoney-bee// @beachwood-cafe // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @elenagilbert01 // @bohogothic // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesthings // @peaceandloverry // @softmullet // @harryssweatcreaturee // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @seaveystanleystyles // @spencharry

let me know if you'd like to be added on my tag list in my next post by telling me HERE (let me know if i forgot to add you)

______________

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

[catxsnow]

HAPPINESS B.W.

Request: Will you do a Bruce Wayne x reader where the reader gets hurt because of his life and he just like super sorry and regretful? If you wanna change the bat boy that'll be okay.

Warning: mentions of blood and injury, fluff, angst 

A/N: hello good day one and all, my writing inspiration has plummeted even more but I hope everyone enjoys this. 

Word count: 1.9k 

Bruce never wanted you to be part of his life for this reason. He didn't want an innocent civilian to get caught up in his life as Batman. Someone who couldn't take care of themselves like he or his kids could. He didn't want you to be trapped in the crossfire of his battles and be the one to suffer the consequences.

You knew the risks of being with him. One night he may never make it home because of his fights. Or maybe that one of his sons or daughter would fall again, and this time never return. You knew that maybe, you would somehow be the one to get the bullet instead of someone that would have known how to dodge it.

Maybe if Bruce would have been faster, or if he ignored his pride and asked for help everything would have turned out fine. Maybe if he sacrificed himself, you would have ended up safe. Instead, you laid in a hospital bed. Cast around your arm, brace on your neck. Cuts and bruises laced your skin from the accident.

Except it wasn't an accident. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time and there was nothing that Bruce could have done to help, no matter how much he beat himself up over it. He was saving the lives of others - you would never shame him for that.

Being Batman was something you had to learn to deal with, but his need to save lives was something you could never chastise. You had your fights over it, the crying and screaming matches that seemed to go on for hours. Your pleads to get him to stop when things were going too far.

The times a young Jason Todd would come into your room with red eyes because he heard you and Bruce fights. An older Jason coming to you for comfort after hearing yet another argument with your husband. Tim crawling into your bed with you as Bruce headed out for a night on his own after yelling at you.

Dick, the child you never got a hand in raising, but being there for you because he knew Bruce's antics more than anyone. All his kids adored you, and they all knew what it was like to be on the other end of Bruce's stubborn Wrath.

Bruce was worth it. He was worth every tear, every kiss, every second. Every moment you spent with him, whether it be love or hate, you wouldn't change it for anything. Even if his love was the reason that you were in that bed.

"It's not your fault, Bruce," Dick stood behind the chair in which his adopted father sat. He came back to Gotham the moment that he heard about what happened. Damian had told him scene by scene what occurred - nothing of which Bruce could have stopped. Maybe not even if he was Superman.

Unfortunately, Dick knew all too well that Bruce would feel guilty for this. He was more protective of you than anyone else in this entire world. He would go to any length to keep you safe.

Bruce held your hand in his. The faint pulse was the only thing keeping him sane in that moment. His hair was tousled, likely from the stress he had been under these past few hours. It wasn't often Dick saw him like this. Then again, it wasn't often Bruce ever let anything happen to you.

"I knew a day like this would come and yet I still agreed to let them into my life," Bruce's voice was hoarse - nearly as much as it was when he was under the cowl. The only difference, was now he wasn't hiding behind a mask, he was forced to face the reality of what could happen to those he loved because of his life.

"Growing up, I never thought I'd see the day that you'd fall in love," Dick sat down in the chair across from Bruce. He refused to take his eyes off you, even with his son showing himself. "And then you met (Y/N). I remember them coming over to the mansion for the first time. I wasn't living there anymore but you wanted me to come to meet them.

"I've never seen you laugh, genuinely laugh, so much in one night. I could tell, from that night that they were different than the other woman you brought home. You cared about them from the start, Bruce. (Y/N) wasn't just some other person that you seduced to uphold your playboy act. They knew what they were getting into with you. You can't just force everyone away because you're scared of potential outcomes - that's part of life. Even for Batman."

"They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me," Bruce tried to argue. Always the glutton for punishment, even when the hand didn't need to be delivered to him.

"And they might have ended up far worse if it hadn't been for you," Dick spoke, his voice steady. He too hated seeing you like this - but if Bruce wasn't going to be the stable one then he had to take that burden. "If there's one thing in this world that people like us struggle to get... it's happiness. You found yours in (Y/N). Don't lose that because of one accident."

><

"Father."

It had been days since you had been admitted into the hospital. Yesterday morning you woke up sore, but alive. Bruce was yet to leave your side. Stubble littered his face from going days without shaving. A look that you weren't able to truly appreciate from being asleep half the time.

By this time the next day, you would be allowed to leave, but that didn't make your husband any less worried about your well being. Bruce still blamed himself for what happened, even after you had told him it wasn't his fault in the slightest. You could see the guilt on his face, just as he wore every time something went wrong with you involved.

"I brought you food," Damian held a bag of take-out in his hand. If he knew his father well enough, he'd know that he hadn't eaten anything all day. It was confirmed when he heard the loud growl of Bruce's stomach the moment that he got a whiff of the food in the room. "Eat."

"I'm not hungry," Bruce waved off his son. It was clear he was in need of something to eat, though he was too stubborn to take care of himself while you were in need. Even if it was just watching over you while you slept. Damian shoved the bag directly in front of his face until he reluctantly accepted.

"You need a shower," Damian's nose curled up. He stood looking down at his father. As worried as he had been, he also was acting immaturely. Refusing to take care of himself, constantly under surveillance while you were in good hands as it was. "(Y/N) will be perfectly safe with me. Go home. Get some sleep. We'll be here in the morning and ready to go home."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Damian eyes the food until Bruce took a bite. It wasn't often that he was worried about his father, but it had been days since he had properly looked out for himself. It was clear how far his love for you went after seeing him like this. Or more so, his guilt for letting this happen. "Do you not trust me to take care of them?"

Bruce's jaw tightened. Truth was, he didn't trust anyone with you. Not even himself. Not even Clark. Damian took his silence as an answer. Of course not. Bruce couldn't trust him for a night out alone on patrol, how was he supposed to trust him with his partner?

"It's my fault they're here, Damian," Bruce sighed. "I've never been so scared before."

This was the first time that Damian had ever seen his father so truly vulnerable. Never in his life did Bruce admit that he was scared, yet here he was completely unscathed and terrified. Dick was right, he found complete and utter happiness in you, and the thought of losing you hurt more than anything else.

He wasn't just scared. He was horrified. Nothing in this world put more fear into him than seeing you suffer, or worse.

"It's not your fault, Father," Damian assured, just as his older brother had. "You always taught me to be brave, to face what scared me most. There's nothing wrong with feeling scared sometimes. It reminds us that we're human, that we're allowed to feel things. (Y/N) loves you, this won't change anything."

><

"Bruce would you stop hovering over me, I'm fine!"

You thought getting back to the manor would mean Bruce would finally be off your back about your injuries. It couldn't be more of the opposite. He was constantly trailing behind you, ready to give you aid whenever you needed it. Honestly, you weren't even that sore.

The brace on your neck was gone before you even left the hospital. Your dark bruises were lighter in color and the cuts that required stitches were healing just fine. The only noticeable injury was the cast on your arm, and you could still function just fine without it. Bruce was just being his overly-protective self.

"If I would have known that all I needed to do to get this much attention from you was to get myself hurt, I would have done it a long time ago," You tried to joke. He remained stoic about your comment, your health was no joking matter. You placed your palm on his cheek, the warmth of his skin being soaked up by your own.

"Seriously, hun, I feel perfectly fine. I'm just thankful for you being there." He didn't look convinced. There was nothing worse than failing you, and he had done exactly that.

"Except I wasn't there," he muttered. Bruce tilted his head in shame. He wasn't there to save you fast enough, he should have been. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry that my life put yours at risk."

"Bruce, my love," your fingers caught under his chin. He reluctantly met your eyes. Shame filled his entire body, he was supposed to be able to save the world, and yet he couldn't save the one closest to him. "I will never blame you for anything like this. I need you to know that. No matter what happens to me, It will never be your fault."

"I love you," Bruce's lip trembled. You were quick to bring him into a kiss. After everything that he's done, the last thing that he deserved was guilt. "I can't live without you. You're my happiness, my everything. I was, I was so scared. I can't live without you, (Y/N)."

"And you'll never have to."

Taglist:

 @pricetagofficial​ @mora-miserium​  @babymango-writes​  @redrobin-yumm​  @simp-is-what-i-am​  @catsofsmoke​  @subtleappreciation​  @officiallydarkgeek​ @spiitfiires​  @pinkdiamond1016​  @childish-kiwi​  @givetimdrakeacoffee​  @gunnedrobin​   @local-fandom-trashcan  @bikoncon​  @foenixphire​

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Jealousy, Jealousy | Not Rated | 1163 words 

Harry gets jealous when James Corden hold his Louis in his lap and pets him on the Late Late Show. He shows Louis who he belongs to and takes care of him.

2) The X-Factor Judge | Explicit | 1635 words 

Harry watches the X-Factor and gets jealous about Brendan jumping on Louis. When Louis gets home Harry reminds him whom he belongs to. 

3) Didn’t Know You Had It In You | Explicit | 1807 words 

Harry sleeptalks and reveals his kinks which Louis is more than happy to try out.

4) Mine | Explicit | 1979 words 

"So you been single for a while now?" Louis gulped as the vibrator slowed down sending a thankful look to Harry before glancing back at the interview who was looking at him with great interest,

"Uhhh yeah," he replied keeping his answer short and brief. He straightened his back shuffling slightly on his chair as the vibrator shifted inside of him hitting his prostate causing him to let out a small gasp as grimaced at the interviewer who just grinned back. She must be an excellent actress or just stupidly oblivious.

5) In The Moment | Explicit | 2611 words 

Note: This is part 2 of this series.

Where it's their first time and Harry is being all fluffy and encouraging Louis to say his name and other dirty stuff?

6) Salvation Under My Breath | Not Rated | 2858 words 

Louis is pregnant...

...and Horny

7) The Sight of You Brings Forth a Peace In Me | Mature | 3254 words

Louis loses inspiration and goes on a nature walk to find some. The inspiration takes shape in the form of Harry. 

8) Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips | Explicit | 3435 words 

Note: Part one of this fic is #23 on this list. 

Adjusting to one another’s life came as naturally as the sun rising in the morning and brightening the sky, chasing away the darkness that had dared to lurk in its absence. They did not side step each other, did not second guess their instincts once they were finally together. It was the crash of roaring waves - reckless in their paths - but upon meeting had unified into calm waters in the vast sea.

Living with Harry was like a breath of fresh air. In all his years, Louis had never felt alive. He supposed there was some credit to be given to how devoted Harry was to him. The man would rather step in a raging fire than let him suffer even a trace amount of agony.

9) Fuck U (Even) Betta | Explicit | 3568 words 

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Harry had sensed Louis was getting antsy all day, prodding and poking at Harry’s psyche like a game of mental whack-a-mole, trying to find that one thing that would flip the switch and push Harry over the edge. Even after all these years Louis still thinks he can get a rise, that he can in any way control the scenario. He couldn’t be more wrong.

10) We Act Like Nothing Is Wrong To Avoid What’s In Front of Us | Mature | 4179 words 

Louis sends nudes meant for Harry to the wrong person on accident. Harry finds out. Rough sex ensues.

11) Love's First Bite | Explicit | 6135 words 

Note: The pairing in this fic is Louis/Zayn.

For Zayn, love was never a part of life’s equation, not when you’re considered a lowly vampire while working in the Vampire’s royalty club, Love’s First Bite. He’s bitter and resentful and sees no point in looking into his past or future. But when Zayn saves a human named Louis, it all changes. He finds something special in him and, more importantly, someone worth giving up everything he holds dear.

12) Your Blueberry Eyes | Mature | 6154 words 

Louis tattoos and Harry falls for blues.

13) Blow Me Away | Explicit | 6471 words 

Louis likes giving blow jobs.

He doesn't exactly get off on it – he's been with people who properly loved it, and he's not quite that into it – but he doesn't mind the feel or the taste and he really, really likes watching his partner lose it, so getting down on his knees regularly is a no brainer.

Which is why it's a bit frustrating that every time he does, Liam hauls him back up again.

14) Thank You For This Prom Night | Not Rated | 6554 words 

Note: This is part 3 of this series.

It's Prom Night. Stuff happens.

15) Can We Make It Anymore Obvious? | Explicit | 6628 words 

Five times the boys accidentally walked in on Harry & Louis plus one time they did it on purpose.

16) It's The Way You Love (I Gotta Give It Back To You) | Explicit | 8153 words 

Stretching, Louis finally pulled the duvet aside and let his feet fall onto the plush rug at his feet. Louis lived for soft, comfortable, plush things. From the fairy lights and fake plants to his plush robe and thick socks, everything in Louis’ little one bedroom apartment was carefully catered to his whimsical and soft aesthetic.

17) My Eyes Want You More Than A Melody | Explicit | 8315 words 

Harry’s brain is short-circuiting at an absolutely awful time, the more expressive side of him is falling to pieces for some reason. The only responses he can give are venerated vibrations and nods, the feeling of Louis’ sweaty skin sliping him further into nothingness. Lightly dewy thighs, so muscular and plush— his lips feel just the same, so dangerously soft, a devious intention lying behind it all. “You’d do anything for me,” Louis mumbles, teeth tugging on Harry’s bottom lip, eyes dragging from his sinfully pink mouth when he lets it go to his hooded green eyes. “Isn't that right, daddy?” Harry whimpers— something that’s so foreign to him— but nods, trailing his hands up his shaved thighs, fingertips passing the hem of the dress.

18) Running Is Different Than Going | Explicit | 9018 words 

Note: The pairing is Louis/OMC.

On the run, the last thing Michael expects from a stranger is help. Louis offers him everything he needs so he can keep running, but makes it harder than ever to continue doing so.

19) Quarantine, Baby! | Teen & Up | 9615 words 

Note: There is no smut, but it contains mpreg Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. 

When Harry and Louis get a little too bored in quarantine, they turn to each other for some x-rated entertainment. Then, what starts as a COVID-scare, turns out to be something completely different.

20) Effervescent Horizons | Not Rated | 10676 words 

Note: This is part 6 of this series. There is also no smut, but it contains mentions of bottom Louis, so we’ve included it in this monthly roundup. 

They go to college together!

21) Moments | Explicit | 10726 words 

Looking back, Louis should’ve known that the universe likes to fuck with idiots like him who think they’ve got it all sorted.

Looking back, he should’ve known that the minute he relaxed and let his guard down, when he thought things were going smoothly, that’s when it would hit him.

Looking back, he should’ve known to be on the lookout for a curveball.

He just hadn’t accounted for that curveball to have long legs, green eyes, and dimples; a curveball named Harry Styles.

22) The Blood Is Rare (And Sweet As Cherry Wine) | Explicit | 14270 words 

Note: The sequel to this fic is #8 on this list. 

"Officer, I see you're giving away my secrets already," Harry said as he entered the room.

"It's hardly a secret," Louis accepted the delicate glass, cutting a glance at the man when the underlying scent hit him, "A little early to indulge in such things, isn't it?"

"You've had a long morning, I'm sure. Merely looking after your health, Officer," Harry smiled.

"You don't need to concern yourself with that."

"Someone has to."

23) Violent Delights | Not Rated | 76174 words 

Prince Harry is arranged to mate Princess Charlotte, but first he must spend a month completing courting traditions which ends in a mating ceremony. When he arrives to the Tomlinson castle, he finds the forbidden North wing holds that which the family has worked hard to keep secret. Mainly: the sickly sweet Prince Louis, who’s rare gender has forced his family to keep him locked away for his own protection.

24) Truth Behind Golden Eyes | Explicit | 228727 words 

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[never-a-stranger]

Inspired by one of kaspuur, frostlowe, alienorganzz, kitty_dorodoro 's drawings of Max & @em-doods 's coloring style

Drew Max in outfits he wears for his side jobs whenever there isn't a case from the commissioner for awhile

There's a story that you can now read below related to Sam finding out Max's secret with a lil bit of angst and a sweet ending~

Credits to my friend @peachypeach666 for helping me write the story!

CW // SUGGESTIVE OUTFITS AND POSES BELOW

In the story, they have a big fight and after that, Sam gets in a really bad slump. (Slump- sit, lean, or fall heavily and limply, especially with a bent back)

There's stubble on his face and his tie is loose, he's walking around town on how he messed things up with max and gets really low on his luck.

He wasn't passionate about his work anymore 'caus all he can think about is Max so he swallows his pride and goes to the best strip bar in town.

He's always seen it but never dared to go in there but right now he just wants to take his mind off of it.

He gets in there feeling out of his element, he thinks to himself "What am I even doing here?", as he looks over all the crowd and the half-naked employees.

He gave his coat over his shoulder and his hand in his pocket as he walks towards the bar, he gets a drink and downs it.

He didn't want to get back to his habit of drinking alcohol but he didn't care at the moment, he downed it with the taste of regret and despair then he hears the overhead speaker calls out "Lagonymph", the crowd cheers for the show.

Sam turns around to see what the commotion was and sees that someone's coming out on stage, Sam's ears perk up in surprise to see the familiar white lagomorph's face.

Max walks down the stage and does the usual routine dance that he does every other night, he takes off a piece of clothing while he slowly walks towards the front of the stage.

Sam gets up from his seat and moves towards the front of the cheering crowd, he looks at Max's seductive show as Sam finally makes it to the tables and the people gathering in chairs in front of the stage.

Sam was shocked that he has never seen this side of Max.

He felt confused, he felt like he was violating something, he felt happy to see his face again and he felt a lot of things but he just sat down and stared in awe.

Max would have dollars thrown at him as people whistled and stood up to throw the money on stage but they would all sit back down as they know what would happen next but Sam didn't know what would happen next.

As part of Max's signature performance, he would pick a person from the front row and give them their own personal show.

Max looked at the crowd and scanned the front row for a perfect candidate but instead locked eyes with a wide-eyed Sam that hasn't looked away from Max since he saw him.

Max's heart dropped as he stared at Sam.

He had a million questions, why was he here? How did he find him? It's been so hard to try and forget the work partner and best friend he shared so many good times with and now he had come to see him.

Fine, if he wanted a show then he'll give him one, Max was all for petty revenge as he kept his professionalism.

He swayed his hips as the spotlight followed him, Sam on the other hand had no idea why Max was approaching him and sat stiffly on the chair while gripping the armrests.

Sam began to wonder what the hell Max was thinking by dragging him into his show, Max gave him a smirk as he sat on Sam's lap.

Max was furious that after all that Sam has said to him, he would follow Max to where he works and scout him out.

That was a new low even for his ex-boyfriend.

Max continued to dance, making sure to put more effort to make Sam regret following him and invading his personal life.

Sam gripped the chair tighter as he almost jumped out of his seat, he had been drinking all night and tried to get his thoughts together.

He whispered "What the hell are you doing Max?!", he said in more of a statement than a question.

"Don't try pinning this on me, partner, you're the one scooping me out and finding me to work.", spitting venom at Sam (Spitting Venom- to be extremely angry) using all his anger to fuel himself by finishing the dance.

Retro's Note: Sam is hiding the fact that he likes the dance while still arguing with Max

The crowd cheers around them and it snaps Sam out of his thoughts with Max.

Sam is hurt, angry, and drunk, Max wraps his arms around Sam's neck to pull him in closer.

He tries to calm himself down and tries to ignore the fact that Max is on his lap right now.

He takes a deep breath and looks at a very smug-looking Max "I didn't follow you, knucklehead.", Sam stopped at that, not wanting to tell Max the real reason why he was there.

Max snorted and got up from Sam's lap to finish his dance, swaying his hips and finishing it with a split as he walks back on stage.

Sam was left confused and walked out of the club, he grabbed his motorcycle and waited for Max to get off of his shift.

He had so many thoughts swirling through his head but guilt ate at him and figured now would be the best time to talk to him.

He had wanted to ask one of the employees when Max's shift ended but for obvious safety reasons, he knew that wasn't gonna cut it, and instead he saved his luck bad waited out front.

He looked at the mirror of his motorcycle and saw how disheveled he looked.

He hadn't thought about shaving and didn't have the strength to put effort into looking his best, he knew he had to make things right, if not, it would probably kill him.

Max was distracted all night and even messed up a couple of times, he was in the back room with the other people that weren't on shift counting their money.

Max chatted them up and waved goodbye to his coworkers for their amazing performance. He stepped out of the back entrance confused and thinking about the night with Sam.

What was he supposed to think after his best friend and work partner comes to see him at his secret side job, he shakes his head as he makes his way home.

A roaring of a motorcycle pulls up beside him and Max turns around already knowing what to expect.

Sam steps out seeming soberer and put together than he did when he was inside.

Sam reacted with cheap beer and spilled vodka, Max wasn't surprised that Sam picked up his old habits.

"Max," Sam called out, Max didn't even want him to give him the time of day, Sam runs up to catch up with him.

Max keeps his head held high.

He didn't want to hear Sam's petty attempts to win him back, Max had more self-respect than to let someone back in his life hurt him.

With everyone who has ever known Max, has always betrayed and/or left him, he wasn't gonna be a fool to let another person do that to him again.

"Max would you just look at me." Sam realized the desperation in his voice at the thought of his friend that has always had a snarky comment to make is now not even looking at him.

"I'm not stupid Sam," Max said while turning the corner.

Unfortunate for him, Sam is larger than him and could easily keep up with Max's long strides.

"I just want to talk to you." Sam said, it seemed to have pushed something within Max 'cause he stopped and turned towards Sam, "You don't get to decide who talks, I decide who talks and if you want to keep this conversation going then I suggest you make it quick!"

It seemed weird having Sam's partner so serious like this, it must have hurt Max a lot when Sam had said those things to him. "I'm sorry, I just want us to talk."

Max sighs and knows it would hurt him as much as it hurts Sam but Max was far from showing it.

Max can smell the alcohol, he can see how miserable Sam looks and it's weird, Sam has always put so much care into how he presents himself.

"How about we stop home and talk then.", Max said while crossing his arms.

They went back to the motorcycle that was still near Max's workplace and headed home.

Afterward, they're at Sam's home.

Inside, Sam tells Max how he just found a random strip bar club which Max works at as coincidence by accident, Max realizes that he assumed the worst of why Sam is in there then felt embarrassed and guilty of how he treated Sam during his performance but Sam reassures him and understands Max's perspective on it

Sam then admits that he liked Max's dance, and supports whatever Max does in his side job.

Max appreciates his best friend supporting him even after what he did to Sam then feels a lot better now that he and his partner in crime finally made up.

THE END~

Thank you so much for reading! And if you want to make fanart, make sure to add #never a stranger sm , and mention this account or my main account @retrocandyfloss 💕

[nevermore-the-kitsune]

Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

[whoacanada]

‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

____________

____________

Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

____________

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

___________

___________

“No one remembers anymore.”

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game —  he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

________

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively —  defensively —  as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily —  burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.  

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

__________

__________

[taones]

𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚 𝐍𝐒//𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

Pairing: tanka x gender neutral!reader (afab)

Note: Its 1am this probably sucks

Warnings: Smut (duh), mentions of public sex

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

tanaka is the sweetest and you cannot change my mind that he is touch starved. therefore, aftercare is the perfect opportunity for him to cuddle you and tell you how good you did or the other way round, depending on your preferred dynamics. If he's doing the aftercare, he always has a sports drink next to the bed for you and makes sure you drink it and have come down from your high before he drags you into the shower with him.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It's his abs. Not to be predictable but they're something he worked hard on and it definitely payed off, so what if he likes seeing the look on your face when you see them?

Ryu is an ass man through and through, he matter the size his hands are all over that thing. Even when you're making out his hands are squeezing and rubbing your ass like it's his personal treasure.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He is lowkey a messy person when it comes to cum, yours or his. He likes yours all over his face and in his mouth sk he can taste you. However, he prefers his to be over your ass or the back of your thighs if he isn't allowed to come inside you (his first choice).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He kinda likes pain. It isnt really a dirty secret cause it takes him a while to notice but he can't help but shiver and moan when you scratch your nails down his back or bite his neck to muffle your moans. Tanaka even likes pressing down on them to feel some pain when he gets off.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he has a decent amount of experience maybe a couple of other people but he does research this kinda stuff and tries his best to adhere to any feedback you give him.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Any position he can see your ass in. Just the visual of his hips hitting your ass and it jiggling could make him come so he prefers reverse cowgirl etc. Not picky though, hes Tanaka.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I feel like its 50/50 with Ryu. He could totally go for giggly sex and a lot of the time it is. If you start laughing about something he'll join in and he even laughs at himself a lot during it too. However, if hes super worked up then it's all about ramming you/getting rammed into the mattress and giggles can come during aftercare thanks.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He probably shaves. If it's not almost completely hairless then it's very well groomed and kept short. Couldn't care less about your body hair, he just doesn't like it on him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When he really gets into it, especially when hes about to finish, he gives out more and more praise. This can range from complimenting your body and making lewd comments to straight up repeating goes much he loves you. Apart from that, hes fairly romantic but not really if you get me. He'll praise you but he isnt exactly laying out verbal rose petals.

J = Jerk Off (How often, what are they thinking about, …)

Hes a horny bastard, he jerks off a lot. With your permission, he probably has some photos saved of you that he uses to get off and if not he has plenty of memories of you that he can use as inspiration.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I firmly believe he is up to trying anything at least once. However, does have a thing for quite literally fucking you stupid. The whole eyes unfocused, drooling and unable to say anything but his name makes him hard just at the thought.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere and everywhere. Has literally no shame but hes a little possessive so, if you're doing in in public, he's making sure nobody can see you because that's his and his only to look at. This being said, he has a thing for shower sex. The way the water flows down your body makes sure that he is at least a little hard and you can't really take a shower together without it ended with probably a blow job.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

When you wear certain clothes. For example if you're wearing something tight or short he can't help but oggle a lot. God forbid you decided to wear some of his clothes or walk around in nothing but his tshirt and underwear. Tanaka really won't be able to control himself.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like nasty degradation. He doesn't like anything that could potentially emotionally hurt you, even if you like it. Insulting you, sexual or not, will always leave him with a feeling of guilt and he just can't carry on with whatever you guys were doing

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Now, he likes getting his dick sucked cause duh. However, he lives for giving you oral. Tanaka can and will be between your legs all day if he could and this means face sitting is an amazing experience. His skills are nothing to blink at either, be can get you to be a moaning mess within seconds and he probably gets a couple of piercings just to make that experience better for you.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

With the exception of when you're upset, Tanaka is usually fast and rough. He cant help himself, sometimes you're just too hot and he always fucks you like there's no tomorrow.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He is up for anything, like I said earlier. Plus he's very easily turned on so quickies are a fairly normal thing for you guys, they're not his favourite though because he tends to prefer a lot of rounds.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Like I said before, hes up for anything once. If you want him to do it, he'll probably give it a go! Risks are a thing he's willing to take as long as you're comfortable with it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina is no joke. Seriously, he can go for a good 3 rounds before he even starts getting tired. Most of the time, you come more times than him cause you're the main focus so he tries to limit the amount of rounds for you two.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Very basic toys like a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs for either of you. Most of your guys sex isnt actually pre planned so the handcuffs are more common than other toys but he enjoys when he gets to bring them out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Little shit thinks it's funny to pull away to 'stretch' just when you're about to come. He is in this mainly for your pleasure but he can't help but rile you up sometimes and get you whining.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I'd say hes relitavely loud. Loud enough that public sex isn't often but not loud enough for that many noise complaints from the neighbours. He can't help but get caught up and start spewing dirty talk in your ear between grunts and low pitched moans and your response usually increases his volume a little.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Let him leave hickey hearts on you! Seriously, he has a thing for it and likes seeing them when you get changed in front of him. It's like a weird possession thing or maybe he just thinks it's cute, who knows.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

I'd say he's slightly bigger than average in length and has a good girth for him. His dick has a few prominent veins that are sensitive.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Higher than average, definitely. Can and will have you every single night if you let him, even after a long day.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I feel like he gets kinda hungry after sex and his aftercare is kinda long. After your shower, he probably makes a sandwich or something, eats it and comes back to bed after. Might spend a little time talking to you before he's out like a light.

Tumblr mobile likes to be annoying so sorry for any spelling mistakes! Requests are open and enjoy

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → ❝wait for you❞ part one

summary: bakugou is your best friend, you both dream to become great heroes. when bakugou ends up in a coma most move on but you can’t leave your best friend behind.  word count: 2k+ tags/warnings: romance, angst (with a happy ending eventually),  a/n: im alive! sort of. finally finished one of my many wips in between watching greys anatomy. shoutout to the show for some inspiration for this. those background patient plot lines hurt sometimes.

Bakugou Katsuki was your best friend. That might be hard for a lot of people to believe considering how hostile he could be sometimes. Most would describe him as feisty and unfriendly but there was always something that drew you to him. From the first day at UA, you knew he was going to be your best friend even if he didn’t want to at first.

It didn’t take long for him to start liking you back even if he refused to admit it. It was impossible for him to deny that it was nice to be cared about and it was harder to deny that he cared about you. It was something he never expected, to care about someone so much that when you missed a meal he would be shoving food in front of you, or if you were staying up too late he would force you to go to bed early. Even the smallest things about you concerned him.

The two of you made the perfect pair, you helped each other train and study. When he went through his worse times you were there for him, through the nightmares, through the panic attacks, you helped him when he didn’t want anyone to see him.

Bakugou wasn’t your only friend but your relationship with him meant everything to you. Your friendship with him ran deep. He was your person. He was the first person you thought about every day, he was the first person you told good news to, the first person you went to when you were upset.

Your friendship was everything to you and you always imagined it meant a lot to him as well.

Throughout the school years, it only got deeper. It was finally your last year of high school and you and Bakugou were both on track to become amazing heroes. Both of you had worked so hard to be at the top of your class and it was almost time to go into the real hero world. You had even both secured spots at the top agency you had been eyeing for a long time.

You wondered if you would be partners at your agency? That would be too perfect. Both of you had bright futures ahead of you but one day took that away.

It was a normal day, you and Bakugou were working your intern patrol shift. It was sunny but not too hot and things were reasonably calm. There were a few crimes to keep things interesting but nothing too dangerous. It was a good day.

The two of you were eating lunch, you had gotten your favorite sushi for lunch despite the fact that Bakugou wanted to get ramen. But fair was fair and you had won your game of rock, paper, scissors.

That’s when the chaos broke out. A villain was attacking and you both sprung into action without a second thought. It was going well as it usually did, you worked together flawlessly. A perfect team. That was until Bakugou took a hit neither of you saw coming.

The sight of him tumbling across the pavement made you sick. You quickly subdued the villain before running to Bakugou’s side. He was laying on the ground face down. You turned him over, his face was covered in blood. Your heart sunk at the sight of him, eyes half open and face bruised.

Sirens alerted them to the arrival of the ambulances.

“Katsuki, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t move, help is here.” You said, hand brushing against his face.

“I-” He said, his voice hushed. “Sunshine I-”

Sunshine. The nickname started out condescending, an insult almost but somewhere along the line it became endearing. A pet name almost.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t strain yourself, please.” You said, grabbing his hand squeezing it tight. “You’re going to be okay.”

Bakugou was put on a stretcher and rushed to an ambulance, you rode with them trying to stay calm as they helped him. You held back asking questions not wanting to interrupt.

Bakugou’s red eyes stayed focused on you as you held his hand while trying to stay out of the way.

“It’s going to be okay, you have to be okay. You’re my best friend.” You said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Katsuki I-”

Bakugou’s eyes slipped closed and it was hard not to tear up in fear. You wanted to tell him how you felt but you hesitated and now he couldn't hear you. Your heart raced in your chest. He would be fine, he always was. He was a fighter and he always pulled through.

Waiting was the worst thing anyone could sit through is the conclusion you came to. Sitting in the hospital’s waiting room staring at the patterned tile you were suffering. The thought of Bakugou in an operating room opened up hurt you to your core. The urge to sob was strong but you refused to. Bakugou would be okay and he would tease you endlessly if he found out that you cried over him.

Bakugou would be fine. You knew he would. He had to be.

Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou showed up, looking more scared than you had ever seen them before. You were familiar with his parents, they had invited you over many times for dinner and they always got along with you.

“What did they say?” Bakugou’s mother asked as she approached you, she grabbed your arms frantically.

“He’s in surgery, they aren’t saying much.” You told her. She let out a sigh sitting down next to you.

Time went by slowly as the three of you waited impatiently. Finally, the doctor appeared.

“Bakugou family?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s us.” Ms. Bakugou stood up along with you and her husband.

“The surgery went well, we were able to fix the trauma and bleeding in his brain. He’s patched up but there was swelling during the surgery.” The doctor said solemnly, his hands held together.

“What does that mean?” Mr. Bakugou questioned.

“The likelihood of him waking up is very low.” He said.

It felt like everything around you was falling apart.

“What do you mean he won’t wake up?” Mrs. Bakugou shouted. “If you fixed everything, what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor began to explain it but everything around you went fuzzy. You couldn’t hear anything, you felt sick. Before you could do anything else you ran outside of the hospital making it to a tree before throwing up.

Bakugou wouldn’t wake up. He was alive but he wasn’t going to wake up. The next year of your life was so clear in your mind, graduating, working beside Bakugou, climbing the ranks, becoming amazing heroes. Together. It was all gone, how were you supposed to go on without him? You couldn't picture your life without him.

You stood in front of his hospital room door still. If you stepped through that door you knew that it was over. The image of Bakugou standing strong next to you ready to face the world would be gone. The reality of what happened would set in and you could never go back.

It was easy to picture him, picture those moments with him. The first time you met him, you were both so young. He was so feisty and unwilling to befriend anyone. The memory of him yelling at everyone around you.

You could remember the day you had gotten through to him, had a heart to heart. His red eyes looked so soft for the first time and you knew that you would do anything to keep his trust in you so he would always feel safe enough to open up to you.

The memory of him in his dorm, scared and breathing quick after a nightmare. You had crawled into bed with him and held him. He protested at first but quickly realized you were more stubborn than him this time. Then he realized how nice it felt to be held by someone who cared about you, who wanted you to feel better. How safe he felt in your arms. The softness of his blond locks was unforgettable.

This morning was so clear, Bakugou in his hero costume laughing at a dumb joke you made. You would never see him stand tall again. You took a deep breath.

Softly you opened the door revealing the hospital bed. The sound of beeps filled the room. Walking up to the bed you took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou laid in the bed hooked up to wires. The side of his hair was shaved, where the surgery was. He was still, the steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sign of life. He looked so peaceful.

You sat in the chair beside the bed, head in your hands, a broken sob coming out of you.

“You have to wake up.” You said looking up at him, taking his hand in yours. “I know you can pull through this, I can’t do this alone. What kind of hero would I be without you?”

There was no reply to your cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let this happen." You cried. "I'm sorry we didn't get what you wanted for lunch. If I could go back, if I could do everything different I would. I wish it was me."

Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body.

"You're my best friend, you're my everything." You cried.

Everything felt empty. Time passed, life moved on. Your friends, your fellow students tried to console you while they grappled with the fact that Bakugou wasn’t around anymore. Your teachers looked at you with sad eyes, knowing that these things came with hero work but you were far too young to be dealing with it.

Graduating, something you had looked forward to for so long tasted like ash in your mouth. Standing there with your classmates taking pictures, everything was numb. All you could see was Bakugou laying in that hospital bed unmoving.

Life moved on but you felt like you stood still. You started working at the agency and you worked hard doing your best. The only thing you could do was be the best hero you could be to prevent people from getting hurt like Bakugou did. Even as you progressed and life moved on you felt like time was frozen.

After every shift you visited him, you would bring your dinner with you and eat in his room. You would tell him about your day. On good days you could convince yourself he could hear you.

Time moved on and less people visited. Your fellow students got busy with their hero careers. His parents visited on the weekends, Aizawa would visit once a month. Sometimes you ran into him. The two of you would sit there in silence.

“Do you visit him a lot?” Aizawa asked.

“Everyday.” You answered. “Almost every single day.”

“Why?” He asked, his gaze not moving from his former student.

“He’s my best friend. I can’t stand the thought of him sitting here alone.” You answered, a tear dripping down your cheek. “If he was awake I know we would see each other every day, it feels wrong to not see him. Even if he is asleep, even if he doesn’t know I’m here. I can't go without him, even if he's just laying here.”

“I understand.” He said.

Aizawa didn’t explain but you knew deep down he understood how you felt.

It took time, you had a lot of time to think when you weren't talking out loud to Bakugou's unconscious body.  It took time but you finally realized something.

You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

Not just the way someone loves their friend, no something deeper than that. Why else would someone spend every day with their unconscious friend? Even as years passed.

Looking back it all made sense, how validating it felt to tell Bakugou about the highs and lows of your life.  How much you focused on the small touches between you and him. How the thought of not spending the rest of your life with him tore you apart.

How had it taken you so long to realize?

Everything about him made you feel alive. His shining qualities, his flaws, his quirks, everything about him made you happy.  You loved him so deeply, how had you never known?

You loved Bakugou Katsuki and it was too late to do anything about it.

Years passed. Your career progressed, you climbed the hero charts and you became the hero you and Bakugou always aimed to be. Even if you had made it to the thing you wanted more than anything else in life it felt empty.

All you wanted was your best friend there with you. You wanted to tell him how you felt. Not just his unconscious body. You felt like a ghost, all of your friends lived their lives but you couldn’t enjoy it. You didn’t go out with them, you spent all your time with Bakugou at his bedside.

Every day you hoped, prayed he would wake up.

Time was an odd thing, getting old felt wrong. You looked older and so did Bakugou even if he laid there unmoving all this time. His hair was longer than it had been but you kept up with it. The nurses let you trim his hair, shave his facial hair when you had the time. It made you feel a little less helpless.

It had been a long day, a bad day. People died, people, you should have saved. You should have been fast enough, you should have been a better hero.

Sitting next to Bakugou you told him about your day.

“I moved, I reached to grab them but I wasn’t fast enough.” You said. “They died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

The tears streamed down your face. You reached forward grabbing his hand.

“You're here in this bed because I wasn’t fast enough, I was a bad partner I should have saved you. I should have taken the hit for you. I wish it was me in this bed, I wish I was dead.” You sobbed, breaths heavy it felt like you were suffocating. You were drowning, you had been since that day.

The sounds of your sobs were loud, your hand limply grasping at his. Your breathing stopped at the movement under your hand.

“Katsuki?” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at him. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids.

part two

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @susceptible-but-siriusexual  @swankiifiied

[the-angriestpineapple]

liability // villain!sero hanta x femreader

Rating: Explicit Characters: (Villain) Sero Hanta Inspiration: My piece for the Citrus Dome Discord server’s Hero/Villain Redemption Collaboration. Okay listen, I love Sero Hanta and this boy does not nearly get enough credit for what a good boy he is. Get ready to thirst for a tape dispenser folks. Prompt:  You’re captured by a villain/hero. This is a double whammy! The character you pick must be written with the opposite alignment. So, if they are heroes, they must be portrayed as villains. If they are villains, they must be depicted as heroes. On top of that, you (reader) or they must try and corrupt or redeem the other character! Tags: Villain!Sero Hanta, bondage, shibari, overstimulation, oral, vaginal sex,  abuse, talk of sexual assault. (The last two are not Sero and only last like, a paragraph or two.) Word Count: ~6.4k Collab Masterlist here

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

The museum was dead silent with the exception of your brush making slow, careful strokes on the painting you were working on. Of course, it was expected that it was dead silent. You were at work near in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that the restoration department was noisy during the day, but there was always some sort of audio. Someone talking, other people working, someone sipping tea. And for this specific piece, you wanted absolute silence to concentrate. Not even music. Dead silence. It was the first time you’d found a piece by your absolute favorite artist and you had begged to be the one to restore it. But in order to concentrate as much as you felt you needed to, there had to be no noise. So you’d gotten permission to stay late, after the museum closed. And you were grateful. This was going to be the absolute highlight of your career. You pause to dip your brush into the specialty varnish remover and hear a noise. You pause, and glance at the clock. It wasn’t time for the security guard to make the rounds. You immediately feel on edge. No one else is supposed to be here. Maybe… maybe something just fell over in the artifact room.  You grab your cell phone, trying not to think about how utterly impossible that is, and turn on your flashlight app. You exit your offices in the restoration department and head to the next door, where the artifacts not currently on display are held. It’s possible that the security guard made rounds early. Likely more possible than something falling over. Especially since the door to the artifact room is ajar. You’d go in, see the guard, and then maybe it was time to head home. You make it only a handful of steps in before you hear something that sounds vaguely familiar, and you’re quickly wrapped in some kind of tape. You immediately struggle but lose your balance, falling to the ground. Your phone skids away from you and slides directly under a shelf. You stare at the spot in dismay and when someone speaks up behind you, you freeze at the voice.

“Hm. This won’t do. Intel said there’s only one security guard and I already took care of him.” A booted foot pushes on your bound torso to roll you over. You look up, and your captor’s eyes widen the same time that yours does. He breathes out your name in surprise. Immediate glee rises in you. He recognizes you. Sero Hanta, love of your life from middle school, recognizes you all these years later. But that giddy schoolgirl elation is shoved down when you remember that he’s a villain and is obviously here to steal from your museum. His mouth curls into a grin just as yours falls to a frown. “What are you doing here, Sero?” Not that you don’t already know. Your museum might not be the Tokyo National Museum, but it held some pretty priceless artifacts. “I would think that’s obvious, if you recognize me. How have you been?” His head tilts to the side and your frown deepens. “You look good.” I look good? Part of you feels your heart skip at the compliment. Part of you flares up in indignation, wondering how he has the absolute gall to say that to you when you’re bound from shoulders to hips in tape, on the floor of your place of work that he’s about to rob. Though if you’re behind completely honest, he looks good too. You’d always been partial to his angular face and wide smile, but now he had lean, powerful looking muscles. His hair was still long but pulled back, and the underside of his head shaved. His outfit was a parody on his hero costume, a skin-tight body suit of mostly black with white and yellow accents. He didn’t wear a helmet anymore, but did have a black face mask. Like the kind you wore when you were sick. He had an air of confidence around him that was undeniably attractive. But you guessed that one would become a bit arrogant with as many successful heists as he’s pulled off. He’d never been caught once, even though he had former classmates that were specifically looking to take him down. And now here you were, throwing a wrench in and possibly fucking it all up. As far as you knew Sero had never actually murdered anyone, but there had been a lot of thefts with no witnesses. What if there were, and he just disposed of them? What if he did that to you? Your breath catches in your throat, and you flinch away from him when he crouches down. He still has that grin on his face. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to it and figure out what I’m gonna do with you later.” He taps your nose and rises again. “You’re just going to leave me here on the floor taped up like this?!” You start to struggle again, but his tape is strong. You can barely move.  “Afraid so,” he says with a sympathetic look. “This is an important heist, and I can’t have you fucking it up for me.” He starts perusing the various artwork. You’re not sure if he is looking for something in particular, since right now he looks more like he’s shopping than about to rob the place. You watch his movements carefully, cataloging all the pieces he touches. At least, that’s what you want to pretend you’re doing. You know that you’re watching the fluid motion of his muscles through his skin tight costume. The way his eyes light up at a particularly valuable piece. The wide, friendly smile that you remember from middle school is surely under that black mask. He’d been playfully teased by your classmates for that smile, but it had always made your heart flutter. Despite his looking, Sero doesn’t seem to be finding anything of interest. He’d even picked up some very expensive pieces before putting them back down. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you. “Um, are you looking for something in particular?” Sero looks at you with an expression of mild surprise. It’s only a split second though before the confident grin is back on. “Why, you willing to help me out?” His eyebrow raises and you flush a little.  “Of course not,” you fire back immediately. You’re just curious if he is looking for a certain item. There’s a few things that he can think of that he might be looking for. But Sero hasn’t turned away from you.  “You know, for a small museum this is a rather large room. You might just be useful to me.” He only now shifts back to continue to peruse through the paintings. “I am looking for a piece in particular, as you said. The original Hinakuawa pond painting. I saw that it was taken off display.” It’s a good thing he’d turned away from you, because he missed the moment of your eyes widening before you forced a neutral face. That painting was taken off display because it was on loan to another museum, one hours from here. “Ah. Lotus Daydream. Yes, that painting is kept in this room when it is not on display.” Luckily the bulk of your artwork was flat pieces, so this was the largest storeroom. Maybe you could keep Sero distracted while he searched for a painting that wasn’t there, until your security guard woke up and signaled the police – and the heroes – to come save you. It was as good of a plan as any, and considering your current predicament… the only plan you really had. He glances at you when you don’t willingly point out where it is, then shrugs and keeps looking himself. He doesn’t seem inclined to keep talking. The silence gets to you after a few minutes. “So, um… it’s been a long time. I… see you on the news a lot.” You wince inwardly. What a stupid start. But Sero doesn’t seem to think so apparently. He gives you a side smirk. “Yeah? You watching me on the news?” The teasing in his tone was obvious and you flush again. “You’re on it a lot, to be fair.” Which wasn’t incorrect. Sero Hanta was on the news a few times a week with another successful theft. He infuriated the police and the heroes, especially the ones who used to be his friends. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.” He winks at you and turns back to examining the artwork. I bet you are. The thought comes immediately, and your breath catches for a moment. It’s almost funny. The Sero you knew, that you had been hopelessly in love with, had been awkward. He smiled a lot, and he was laid back, but he didn’t have this confidence that seemed to be oozing out of this Sero. Your Sero had been lanky. Long-limbed and almost spider like. But his kindness and thoughtfulness had been what made you fall first. You had also been awkward, and very quiet. You didn’t even know if he’d known who you were. You’d been partnered with him for an English project once and you’d barely been able to communicate with him for it in person. He’d been so sweet and patient. And now… now he was the most notorious thief in Japan. With the body of a god and confidence of a rock star. It makes you squirm a little in your restraints. “And you, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, much less someone like you. Is it normal for you to work this late?” You know it’s probably just him trying to case the museum, to see where he made an error, but you shake your head anyway. “No, I was working on a piece that is very important to me.” You see an eyebrow raise, and hurry to continue. “Not Lotus Daydream. It’s another artist, one much smaller. It does not have a lot of monetary value, but he’s my favorite painter.” You get a soft look on your face when you think about it. Sero gives a tiny, indulgent smile. “Sounds important to you.” “Yeah, it is.”  “Any particular reason?” Hm. You can’t think of a good reason why he would ask that question to benefit him. And telling a story is going to take up time. You look away from Sero, focusing instead on an old painting of a rice paddy in the corner. “Well… I didn’t have a lot of contact with my father when I was younger. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I was able to talk to him at all. My mother hated him, and hated that I was just like him, so she kept me from him while telling me that he didn’t want to see me.” It didn’t bother you anymore. It did back then, but you now had good relationships with both of your parents. You’d forgiven your mother long ago. “My father is an art collector. Talking to him got me interested in it too, and my interest and skills landed me in an art restoration career.” You pause, looking up at Sero. He’s looking at you curiously. “That artist had a small exhibit near his house, and that was where my father took me as an outing the first time I’d seen him since I was five.” Sero tilts his head slightly as he digests this information. “Oh. Yeah, I can see why that’s important to you. So you didn’t have an interest in art in middle school? I always saw that you were reading, but I never saw what.” He leans against a glass case, now more focused on you than what he’s looking for. “No. I, um, I wasn’t very outgoing. I preferred to be in the back of the room with a book. I wasn’t teased or anything like that, and I was more or less happy. I just didn’t know how to talk to my classmates the way the popular kids did.” You give a small, wry chuckle. “It was even worse when it came to you, since I liked you.” What??? Your eyes shoot wide just as one of Sero’s brows raise. “You liked me?” He pulls his face mask down and now you can see as his wide mouth curls up into a grin. As much as you don’t want to dive into this topic, you do notice that all of his attention is now on you instead of the artwork surrounding you both. So you decide to play it up a little.  You lower your eyes for a moment before shyly looking up at him through your lashes and nodding. You still did, if you were being entirely honest, despite his criminal record. His grin widens even more and he pushes off the case, sauntering over to where you’re sitting. One elbow crooks and he shoots tape at the ceiling. It sticks around a beam and holds, and he tears it from his elbow only to shoot another from the other one. You’re silent as he hoists you up to a standing position and adheres the pieces to the tape on your back. Keeping you there on your tip toes, off the floor just enough that you couldn’t put your feet flat on the ground. “And you didn’t say anything back then? I would have been thrilled to know that you felt that way.” Your breath hitches. Really? Had you wasted your chance back then? And is that what you’re going to think about right now when he’s here in the middle of the night attempting to rob your museum? But Sero’s moving in closer, and your eyes widen fractionally as your toes scramble a bit in an effort to back up. He notices and smirks. “And how about now? Is what I do a turn off?” His eyes are staring into yours, his voice dropping low. “Or… is it a turn on?” Your breath hitches, and your heart is beating so hard you’re sure he can hear it. He’s so close, and you can’t get away. Though… you know that you really don’t want to. He exhales slowly, his breath ghosting over your lips, before he closes the distance between your mouths. His lips are thin and slightly chapped, but he obviously knows what he’s doing. His mouth moves slowly, almost teasingly as he coaxes your mouth to move with his. He presses in closer to place one hand on the middle of your back and slide down to the small. You aren’t sure what exactly it is – the fact that you’re bound, the fact that you’re at your job, the fact that you liked him, the fact that he’s a criminal, or maybe all of them – but this is the most amazing kiss you’ve had in a while. If ever. There is the beginning of a knot of heat in your core as his tongue licks your lower lip, your mouth immediately opening to allow him entrance. You whimper slightly into the kiss, the noise turning into a soft whine when he pulls away from you. You open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. He’s still holding your body pressed to his, and you can easily feel without your hands how firm his muscles are. How strong he is. He has to be, really, to be able to swing around on his tape as fluidly as he does. But Sero had always been strong. You remember seeing him in the Sports Festival back when he went to UA High School, remember him during the cavalry battle. How he had easily caught a young Ground Zero in mid air with one arm and tossed him back on top of their group. You’d had that in your mind for months after the fact. “I guess it’s a turn on,” he murmurs, one hand going up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “So now the real question is… how much of a turn on is it?” He leans close, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You gonna let me get into that dress? I’d like to know what you taste like.” Your breath hitches, a shiver going down your spine. You want it, so fucking badly, but are you bold enough to let him? Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice, you reason with yourself. Sure, it’s probable that he won’t touch you if you say no, but you’re bound. Helpless. At his mercy. You hold your breath as he pulls back just far enough to look into your eyes, and you give the slightest nod on the exhale. His mouth curls into another smirk and he lets you go to back away. You look at him in confusion until he shoots more tape at the ceiling – two strands, that he attaches to your ankles and uses to keep your legs yanked into the air. Your dress hikes up to your hips when he pushes your thighs up and ties his tape to each one. This leaves you splayed open, suspended in front of him. On display for his dark eyes to rove over. He steps close to you again, both hands running on the outside of your thighs until they reach your hips. Then he moves to his knees to put himself at face level with your core. “Mm. Already wet for me, I see,” he says in a husky, teasing tone. Before you can formulate a quippy answer the hands on your hips dig in and he pulls your forward to his mouth. His wide, flat tongue licks up your damp panties and your breath is ripped from your lungs. He lets out a pleasurable groan. “Delicious. Just like I thought. But I’m sure it’d be better without these in the way.” Sero hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them to the side before repeating his tongue drag. This time it pulls a strangled moan from you. He lets out another groan in response and pulls back just enough to look at you from between your legs. “That’s it, make more of those noises for me.” And he pulls you back in. You’d had oral sex before, sure. Roughly half of the guys you dated did it, and a decent number of them enjoyed it. It had always astounded you how much a guy wanted your mouth on his dick but didn’t want to return the favor. Sero Hanta, on the other hand, ate you like he was starving and you were the most decedant thing he’d ever tasted. His hands kept you pressed tightly to his face to the point that you’d probably be concerned for his ability to breathe if you could string a thought together. He seems like he’s everywhere at once. His tongue lapping up your sex before dipping inside of it, back out to drag up and circle your clit. Now and then he’d suck or gently bit it, causing a sharp increase in the moans he was pulling out of you. He had you strung up in a way that you really could only see the top of his head as he worked you over, so you could never quite tell what was coming next. You let out a noise of surprise that tapers into a moan when his first finger breaches you. “Look at you,” he breathes as he presses kisses to the insides of your thighs. “Opening right up for me.” He leans back far enough to be able to catch your eyes. “Such a good girl.” He curls his long, dexterous finger up to press against the small, spongy spot inside you that has you bucking in your restraints. He grins. Sero knows exactly what he’s doing. He slides his finger out only to press two back in as he leans forward. “Cum for me, babe?” he breathes out across your sex before wrapping his lips back around your clit. The sucking sensation coupled with the press against that spot inside you has you crying out and coming apart around him. He rolls his fingers as you ride through it while gently licking at your clit, your hips jerking and trying to get away from the over-stimulation. You’re slightly dazed as he rises up, grabbing your hips again and pressing his bulge into your soaked folds. Despite how sensitive you are, you can’t help but buck back into him. “Can I use your mouth, babe?” He tilts his head slightly, grinning when you enthusiastically nod your consent. You can’t quite find words, so… body language. Sero pulls a blade out from somewhere around his hip and cuts the tape to let your legs down. More tape shoots off, more tape is cut, you don’t really have the capacity to follow what he’s doing. Then you’re being moved. Sero tilts you forward until your face is level with his hips, but your toes are still just skimming the floor again. He has your hips bound up a little higher than your head and you look at him from under your lashes. He reaches out to skim fingers down the line of your jaw. “Beautiful,” he mumbles. Your heart swells with the praise, and you bite your lip before opening your mouth, sticking your tongue out, and looking back up at him. He curses under his breath and flicks his fingers under a nearly invisible seam at the crotch of his suit, revealing a button and long zipper. How convenient, you think as he undoes both and pulls his cock out through the hole. He immediately drops it so the head bounces on your tongue, hissing at how warm your tongue is. His cock isn’t particularly wide, but it is long and slightly curved upward. And he tastes so good, you really want to close your mouth and get to work, but you wait. He rocks his hips marginally to let the head slide a few centimetres and bites his lip.  “Fuck. You are a good girl. Go ahead and close your mouth, babe.” You happily oblige, feeling a thrill at the way his head tips back when you swirl your tongue around the head. He drops a large hand on your head but instead of guiding your head further down like most of the guys you’ve been with, he winds his fingers gently in your hair. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your head as he rocks his hips into your mouth. You want more. You’re very confident that you can take him down to the root, and you want to try. You try to push forward but it’s very awkward with your toes scrambling on the floor. He notices once you whine a little, and looks down with a chuckle. “You want more?” He steps forward a little, letting more of his length slide in until he bumps into the back of your throat. You let out a small moan and let your tongue dance around his underside to show your approval. He makes a guttural noise and starts to rock his hips into you faster. Harder. You hollow out your cheeks as you look up at him and he moans.  “Shit, I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he rasps out with a slight laugh. He manages a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out of your mouth. He’s panting a little and looking at you with a lopsided grin. "Damn babe, you're good with that mouth." You flush a little and smile. You’d been told that before, but somehow it was so much better coming from Sero. "Thanks. You're um, you're good with your tape." Sero’s face brightens, and his mouth curls up to a wide grin as he tucks himself back into his suit. "Yeah? Think so? You haven't seen the half of it.” Before you can question what he means by that the switchblade is out again. He cuts you down and lets you find your feet. The blade gets positioned at your hip, then Sero’s wrist flicks up. It cuts you out of the tape… and out of your dress.  “Sorry babe,” he murmurs with no real remorse in his voice. You open your mouth to protest your ruined dress but Sero pulls you close, pressing your bare chest to his body suit clad one and kiss you into silence. It’s not important. You have a dress in your locker. It’s fine. As you’re kissing you feel his fingers caress the line of your panties, along your hips, before he pulls on them slightly. He’s testing to see if he can remove them, you assume. You quickly pull them further down.  He chuckles into your kiss and swiftly crouches to help you out of them before tucking them into a nearly invisible back pocket. He gives you a cheeky grin and quickly removes the tape from your ankles. Technically you’re free now, but the thought to run doesn’t even cross your mind. You just wait until he straightens up and moves back in for more kisses. After a few moments you hear his tape shoot out again three times. He pulls back as he shoots a fourth. It binds around your bare chest, just under your breasts. “The anchor,” he says with a wink.  You tilt your head in confusion, and he pulls his arm back to rest his hand on the back of his neck. He pulls more tape from his elbow, a sizable piece. He starts to twist the tape and wrap you up. He attaches the tape to the front of the strip already on you, threads it up through your breasts, and attaches it at the back almost to your hip. He repeats that on the other side. He keeps making and twisting tape, wrapping around your ankles and wrists. He steps behind you and presses your wrists together, crossing them, and quietly asks you to keep them there. You do. His fingers skimming over your skin as he works you over it so erotic. He wraps tape around your elbows, not twisted, to keep your arms straight out. Sero takes one of the tape strands attached to the ceiling and attaches it to the tape on your back. Now you kind of understand what he meant when he said it was an anchor point.  “I’m gonna lift you up, okay?”  You exhale, already shaky. “Yeah. Yeah that’s fine.” He smiles and grabs your chin, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. Your heart skips a beat. He makes another tape rope and crouches down to affix it to your ankle. He runs fingertips with a feather light touch up the side of your leg as he rises. Then he pulls, your ankle coming up. He keeps pulling higher until your thigh follows. He binds your ankle to your wrist, then ties your lower thigh and upper leg together. The position keeps your leg up and folded in. He quickly repeats this with the other side before attaching the last two tape strands he shot off at first to your ankles. You’re suspended by your ankles and the middle of your back, arms stretched out and held in place behind you. Because your ankles are also attached to your wrists, if you shift or move one of them the others move too. You bite your lip as Sero walks around to your front. He traces fingers along your jawline again but this time he doesn’t stop, tipping your face up to his by your chin. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, reverence in his voice. Your face flushes, because he’s looking at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. He runs his thumb over your lower lip and your lips automatically part. He gives you a slight smirk and crouches so he can be face to face with you without removing his fingers from your face. “Now, I’d really like to fuck you. But if you don’t want to, I can use my mouth on you again instead.” His voice was soft, eyes watching your face for your reaction. You swallow, and nod. He chuckles a little. “I gotta hear you say it, babe.” “Yeah, yeah please. I want you to fuck me, Sero,” you gasp out in a rushed breath. He leans in and softly kisses your lips. “Good girl,” he whispers against your mouth and rises. You shiver in anticipation as you lose sight of him when he moves behind you. You’re straining to hear what he’s doing, and you hear the rustle of his clothes, the tearing of a wrapper. Your eyes widen as you feel his blunt head sliding along your still soaked folds. The tease is too much and you whine again, but you can’t push back against him. He’s taken all of your possible leverage away and now you really were entirely at his mercy. Large hands grab on to your waist as the first inch sinks in. You inhale and Sero quietly asks if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you say with impatience in your tone, “Just waiting.”  Sero chuckles behind you. “Well, who am I to keep a lady waiting?” Air is punched out of your lungs as he sheathes himself in one thrust, then slides back out. One more hard thrust, a soft groan from him, and then he’s railing into you hard and fast. While he’s not the thickest man you’ve ever had, he is still a good size and the drag of his cock on your walls is making you cry out as it rubs against the small bundle of nerves inside you. And his length is incredible. He’s bottoming out with each thrust, and his leverage on your hips has him pulling you back as he pushes forward. Hard, deep, and driving you to a second release faster than you thought possible. Sero groans again and picks up his pace. “Fuck, yeah, that’s good baby. Look at you, sucking me in like this. You feel so good around me. Can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock.” His voice is so low, murmuring the words to you, and you clench around him. He hisses at the feeling, moaning out on his exhale. “That’s right, cum on my cock baby. Just let go.” One of his hands leaves your hip and he steps closer to you. You’re bouncing on him a bit more due to gravity than his grasp, and the free hand snakes down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. Five swipes and you’re done for, crying out loudly as your walls clamp down around him. He stops moving in you, still all the way inside, gently and slowly rubbing your clit as your ride out your orgasm. He doesn’t stop though, even as you come down and the pleasure starts to be too much. “S-Sero, I can’t-” “Sure you can, babe. I know you have one more for me.” He rolls his hips fractionally, barely an inch of his cock sliding in and out of you as he keeps his attention on your clit. Your thighs pulled back as far as they are prevent you from closing them to stop him, and it only takes a few minutes before you’re sobbing as another orgasm rips through you. Only now does he pull his hand away and moves so he is standing like he’d been. His hand returns to your bare hip. “See, I knew you had it in you. So fucking good for me.” You barely have time to process his words before he’s fucking into you hard again. He’s chasing his own orgasm now, and you desperately want to give it to him. You can’t touch him though, and you can’t wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. The only thing you can do is flex your walls, make the hole he’s fucking into tighter. It earns you a moan of appreciation that makes you giddy. “Shit, babe, I’m gonna-” He cuts off into a drawn out moan as he slams into you one more time, hard. Then a few softer thrusts. Then he’s done, and you’re both just panting. Desperate attempts to fully fill your lungs. It takes a full minute before Sero pulls out and starts to move. “Well… I must admit that I wasn’t expecting this particular type of art when I came here.” Sero huffs out a laugh and you blink in your post orgasm haze. He peels the condom off and pulls a small bag from his pocket to drop it into. The bag gets closed and shoved back in his pocket. Right, he doesn’t want to leave any evidence that he was here. You bite your lip as you try to stare at him over his shoulder. “Lotus Daydream isn’t here.” Sero looks at you in surprise when you blurt out the words. “It’s on loan to another museum. It’s been gone for three days.” He blinks in disbelief, and then bursts out laughing. “You sneaky little thing.” But he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds amused, even impressed. “I guess that theft-wise my trip was a bust.” Sero runs a hand over the side of his head, smoothing back some stray hair strands. He looks at you still hanging on display as if he’s trying to figure out what to do with you. You bite your lip in consideration. “I won’t say anything about you breaking in if you just leave. Since the piece you’re after isn’t here anyway.” It’s a long shot but worth a try. He frowns a little as he studies your face. You really wish that you could at least close your legs, if not actually get back onto the floor. “Yeah. Alright. You have a deal. You don’t say anything about me being here and I’ll let you go.” Your face brightens and his grows more serious. “But if I do find out that you said something… I’ll be coming after you. And you will desperately wish that you hadn’t. Do you understand?” “Yeah. I understand.” You’re proud that your voice is firm, and the frown turns back up to his wide, trademark smile. He pulls the switchblade back out to cut his tape, gently lowering you to the floor. Only now does he remember that he shredded your dress when he cut you out of his initial containment.  “I have a spare dress in my locker,” you say quickly. Sometimes – almost daily - you get the varnish on your clothes. Most days that doesn’t matter. You don’t really leave your office. But you do try to make sure you have a spare outfit in case you have to meet someone important. You blink as he says that he’ll grab it and he heads off. Somehow you aren’t surprised that he knows where the lockers are and that he can apparently pick your lock. He returns in moments carrying your dress draped over his shoulder. He carefully peels the rest of the tape off of your bare skin. His gentleness is surprising and makes your heart flutter. He’s going slow, careful to not hurt you. He lets you dress, comes with you to pick up your bag, and walks you to the door. He looks out over the street once you’re outside. “The video feed is on a loop. I put your guard to sleep, he’ll wake up without any knowledge that he was knocked out.” Sero gives a bright grin and a small two-finger wave, then shoots his tape up, retracting it to propel up and disappears onto the roof. You watch him go in awe. Sero was amazing in your mind back when you first met him but he was just stunning now. You glance at your watch to check the time. It’s late, the trains have already stopped. You don’t live that far from the museum though, maybe a twenty five minute walk. So you set off. You get three blocks before you hear a low whistle. “Hey baby, what’re you doing out by yourself this late at night? Wanna come party with us?” Your blood runs cold at the trio of men lurking at the alley entrance to your right. The smell of cheap sake invades your senses. Your hand goes to your pocket for your phone and a cold sense of realization washes over you. It had been knocked from your hands and was currently under a shelf in the artifact room. As you’re preparing to run a rough hand grabs you and yanks you into the darkened alley. A different hand clasps over your mouth, but drunks don’t have the best coordination or reflexes. You’re able to bite down hard on one of the man’s fingers. He yells and yanks his hand back, and you take the opportunity to let out a scream. One of the other men growls at you to shut up and smacks you hard upside the head. Your head snaps forward. It dazes you, and your head rolls back. You’re dizzy and can’t seem to focus on any of them. The third man laughs. Three different voices blend together, talking about what they intend to do to such a pretty little thing like you. You’re shoved and pinned up against the rough brick of the alley wall while they argue about who goes first, who goes where. You close your eyes, waiting for the touches you don’t want. But they never come. The hands pinning you leave you and you slide down to the ground. You hear shocked shouts, and when you open your eyes and your vision starts to clear you see a black, white, and yellow figure swinging from a rope – tape! - and kicking one of them drunken men in the face. They try to fight back, but three wobbly drunks are no match for Sero Hanta. He’s too fast, too agile, too strong. Your attackers are all out cold in the alley in under two minutes. Sero, not even breathing heavily from the exertion, lands gracefully on his feet turns to you. With a frown he gently gathers you up in his arms and brings a hand up to touch where they slammed you in the head. “...I heard you scream. Are you alright?” You don’t answer right away. Instead, you bring up a hand and cup his cheek. “You saved me,” you breathe out. Sero’s face softens, and he smiles. He brings you closer and leans down until your foreheads are touching. “Yeah,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I did, didn’t I? Let me get you home.”

[omniscientwreck]

Hello! For the imtimacy prompt list #30 for Shadowgast🖤💜

Hello! This was the prompt I was most hoping someone would ask me so THANK YOU for that! If anyone else would like to make a request I have one left in my inbox and am always happy to do more, especially for this list! Here is the post in question!

As a side note: welcome to the version of Caleb and Essek from my no rules no angst just right Carly Rae Jepsen song lyric inspired College!AU in a modern fantasy kinda setting. This just feels most to me like the version of Essek and Caleb that would do this and it gives you a bit of insight into the tone of my BIG work in progress right now! Enjoy!

30: doing beauty treatments, like facials or manicures, hair dying or face masks

Essek has long stopped knocking before entering Caleb, Beau and Jester’s apartment, but he still likes to call out his arrival though he knows Caleb is the only one home.

Jester and Beau have gone back home for a few days, visiting Jester’s mother in Nicodranas. Caleb elected to stay behind saying he had too much work to do, which is true. Essek finds him in his room, still as much a mess as it was the last time he was here. The small desk is completely covered in books all with several markers placed in their pages and the mess spills onto the bed. Caleb is ‘sitting’ on the chair containing most of his clothing and doesn’t appear to realize he’s come in.

He drops his levitation, trying to make noise so he doesn’t startle Caleb too badly as he approaches from behind and smooths his hands from his shoulders down to his hands. Caleb looks up as Essek’s chin presses into the top of his head, “Drogi, when is the last time you ate anything?”

Without hesitation, “Around elven, I’ll take a break soon I’m on the edge of something here.”

Essek sighs, “Darling it’s nearly six, I brought food, just take a break now with me?” He watches Caleb place a marker in the book to save his space and he finishes a few thoughts in the literature review before standing and smiling wearily at him.

“Ja, a break is probably a good idea. Thank you Schatz.” He stands and for a moment Essek lets Caleb distract him by wrapping strong arms around his waist and pulling him in for a kiss.

Essek has been looking forward to this particular date for a while and finally got the chance to suggest it, surprised when Caleb agreed with little hesitation.

It had started a few days ago when Caleb had slept over. He’d watched Essek’s skin care routine and had begun asking questions which led to the confirmation of Essek’s theory that Caleb has never so much as moisturized his face, much less done any of the other pampering that Essek considers central to his sense of well-being.

Tonight, Essek gets to show Caleb what it’s like. After they finish eating, they wind up in the bathroom. Essek pulls out a massive bag full of creams, ingredients, washes and all kinds of products. “Sit.”

“Essek, I need to see the mirror to shave.” He presses Caleb’s shoulders and sits him on the closed toilet lid shaking his head, “Caleb, you are taking a break. Let me.”

Drow are not immune to facial and body hair. Essek has never had much but Verin always has. One time when Verin was particularly injured in early adulthood Essek had to learn how to shave him during recovery. He has someone else for that now, so Essek transfers his knowledge to Caleb.

He gently spreads a soft cream across his partner’s face with the gentle touch of a brush and he pulls out a straight razor, the only possession he has from his father. Carefully and gently he shaves Caleb’s face, dragging the razor across tawny stubble while the man sits beneath him with closed eyes, completely trusting.

It doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would and he’s able to begin gently washing his lover’s face, humming as he goes, occasionally singing in undercommon. Caleb looks more at rest than Essek has every seen him, sighing every so often as Essek exfoliates, washes and tones his skin. He steps back and instinctively Caleb goes to touch his face. Looking in the mirror the main difference is calm and peace. “Okay now this is the fun part.”

Essek mixes up two small cups of ingredients, one is his proprietary blend for his own skin, one that he thinks will suit Caleb more, “Ok now trust me. We’re going to leave these on for 15 minutes. I’ll do yours, you can do mine. As revenge.”

Caleb’s eyebrows quirk in confusion as Essek begins slathering the face mask onto his pale skin and then grimaces at the cold unfortunate texture of the mask. “Ah ja I see what you mean, this helps? In some way?”

Essek nods, “It will help tone out some of the redness and smooth out other things. I promise it will be worth it.”

“I trust you.” Essek smiles and puts a dollop on the tip of Caleb’s nose and the fake scowl that follows is delightful and adorable.

“You shouldn’t.” Essek winks and flashes fangs at the other and Caleb grabs the cup of Essek’s mask and boldly smears it over his forehead in protest. A shiver goes down his spine, he hates this part but it’s more fun with Caleb.

They go into the living room and put on one of the old movie musicals Caleb is so fond of and Essek starts on Caleb’s hands. “I won’t do anything extravagant I promise. You can just do a top coat if you’d like, but I did bring most of my collection if you’d like to look.”

Caleb opens the deceptively small case and shakes his head fondly upon the realization it’s enchanted to hold more than one would expect. “All this enchantment for nail lacquer?”

Essek scoffs, “Of course, you don’t want to know how much room this would take up if I had to lay it all out in the apartment.”

Caleb hums along to the music as Essek works, taming and shaping the nail beds that have been left to their own devices for decades and Essek finds himself distracted by romantic songs and well choreographed dance numbers occasionally. Far more distracting is the beauty of Caleb’s baritone singing along to a style of music Essek is unfamiliar with, warm and low and full of love as he looks down at Essek’s meticulous work.

He ends up with an iridescent top coat, just a little bit of flair but subtle enough most won’t notice. Midway through they pause to rid themselves of the face masks and Essek removes the mixture for Caleb and then for himself so as to not mess up his own work. He smooths on some moisturizer for Caleb, ever patiently sitting with his eyes closed. “How does that feel perełko?”

“Good, it’s very cool, my skin feels… fresh?”

“Take a look for yourself.” Essek smiles, it isn’t a miracle by any means but some of the redness of Caleb’s face is brought down just a bit, giving more prominence to the scattering of delicate freckles across the bridge of his nose and it’s smooth and fresh.

“I can see the merits of this.” he says, in slight awe, feeling this skin of his face.

“Now, let me finish your hands so I can do mine.”

He finishes Caleb’s hands with moisturizer and a good long massage, and starts to work on his own, removing the customary black polish he usually keeps there, Caleb’s arm around his shoulders, watching him work. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Essek considers, “Well I’ll shape on my own. Would you like to pick a colour for me? I’m tired of black. You can do the last step as well.” Caleb is back looking into the nail polish case and, rather quickly, presents him with a deep burgundy.

“How’s this? I just think it would look good.”

Essek presses a kiss into his forehead, “Perfect, thank you darling.” He goes back to shaping his nails to fine points and applying a base coat. As he begins to apply colour Caleb watches him intently, focus on the movie lost. “Would you like to help with his?”

He blushes a bit, “I do not think I would be very good at it and I don’t want to ruin your hard work.”

Essek laughs, “You won’t ruin anything. Here, watch me do my right hand and you can do my left. It’ll help me immensely. Any mistakes you make can be cleaned up with little effort I promise.”

Caleb is better at this than either of them expected. Only a little varnish makes its way to Essek’s skin and that’s easily enough removed, he even flips Essek’s hand as he’d done his own to apply the polish underneath. Then, when it’s dry, he rubs the stress away from Essek’s hands and they share many looks as a second musical begins playing. They pay little attention to it, instead giving in to the quiet comfort of the evening, of learning to care for another and yourself. Caleb has all but forgotten his previous state of anxiety for the evening and Essek hopes he’ll let him do this again. “Thank you for this liebling I needed this more than I could have guessed.”

Essek is pressed to his side now as they drink tea and finish up a horror movie, “I am glad my love. Thank you for letting me share this with you. If you ever want it again all you have to do is ask.” Caleb nods and over time they both fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, waterlogged with the quiet, weighty bliss of love.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 1: The Void

A/N: An alt ending/fix-it fic. Because we and they deserved better--so I made it happen.

83 hours and 37 minutes. Not that he'd kept a count exactly. Just that his eidetic mind knew the exact moment Abbie had left this world, taking his heart with her and leaving him hollow, and his quick thoughts often calculated the duration he'd kept breathing without her. He'd spent the first 6 hours and 24 minutes working with Miss Jenny and Master Mills—and ultimately, ironically, his old pal the Horseman—to try to defeat Pandora and force her to release his Lieutenant, only to learn she'd actually expired. The dreams he'd had, sweet and aching moments with Abbie reflecting on their meet cute, time in the Archives, relaxing on their front porch where she'd tried to explain why he should let her go, would never suffice. He hadn't said the things he'd wanted—needed—to, hadn't explained how she'd helped save him: from roaming lost in this world, from imprisonment and institutionalization, from his son and the myriad monsters they'd encountered, from a wife who'd never truly been honest with him. And yes more important matters: from going mad, drowning in loneliness, feeling isolated, floating adrift in a world that still confounded him sometimes. And at times even saving him from himself. No, he hadn't said any of those things. And now he never could. Which is why he'd spent the next 49 hours and 52 minutes drowning his sorrows, his hollowed out chest, and his overactive mind in rivers of alcohol. He hadn't gotten smashed or wallowed in oblivion. No, he'd needed it to last, so he'd drunk just enough as the hours passed to keep the clawing ache in his empty ribcage from swallowing him whole. Miss Jenny had come by sometime around hour 32, banging on the door so hard he thought the roof would cave in. If he'd cared at all, he might feel concerned about her waking the neighbors in the dead of night, but he couldn't muster enough decency to. He'd ignored her at first, thinking she'd take a hint, or at least think him not home, but her insistent knocking continued. "I know you're in there, Crane." More banging. "Let me in there, or get out of my sister's house." It was a low blow, but one he deserved, for Miss Jenny had lost just as much as he had. If anyone had earned the right to drown her demons with liquor right next to him, it was her.

He'd stumbled to the door—okay, maybe he had gotten smashed, for he felt her knocking vibrate through his brain—bottle in hand, and unlocked it, turning the knob and walking away before he'd even seen her face. The slam of the door rattled the house but not him, and he shuffled back to his couch cushion, dropping down onto it, sipping from the bottle, and staring into the fireplace embers. Jenny said not a word, simply restarted the fire and plopped down on the other end of the couch, gazing at the vibrant blaze as it danced shadows around the room. After a few minutes, he threw out his arm towards her, bottle in hand, and she took it from him, downing a few gulps to try to silence the ache. She tried to return it to him, but he waved her off, waiting another 30 minutes before slowly rising—why did simply existing hurt so much?—and  retrieving a few more bottles, which he'd purchased on his way home from that graveyard, from the stash in the kitchen. He placed them on the cushion between them, an open bar for them to sink into. Another few hours dragged by, and he felt more than heard Jenny crying at some point, the room changing from desperation, anger, and pain to grief and mourning, and he joined her, tears cascading down his face unabashedly. Their silence made their shared sorrow all the more palpable, exchanging emotions they couldn't speak aloud, the shroud around them sucking the whimpering breaths out of them as easily as it'd done to their partners. How could he have kept silent all this time, holding in and swallowing down the words that'd desperately begged for release? He'd tried to ignore them, the burgeoning affection, passion—now that it mattered no longer, he could admit it, cowardly fiend that he was—and love he'd harbored for Abbie since long before proprietary permitted it. He'd killed his wife for her, for Heaven's sake! And while he pretended mere friendship, ignored everything that screamed at him to make his feelings known, he hadn't hidden a damn thing. Miss Corinth, Betsy, even Pandora had seen his love for her. What an abominable fool he'd been. And now the one person who needed to know, who should've heard it from his own lips a thousand times over, never would. He let the tears burn down his face, though they washed none of his self-recriminations away. He deserved every horrid thought he had about himself. They ripped through his mind, scathing him, leaving him more raw and aching than he could ever remember feeling before. His entire body ached, joints, marrow, muscles, head, chest. And still he sipped on, needing the numb, refusing the full onslaught of trauma a clear mind would force him to face. He'd lost before, lost battles and comrades and his dignity. Lost loves and his homeland and best friend and life. His world and his wife and his son and the dreams he'd had and held and hoped for. Hell, he'd even lost Abbie a few times. But never where he couldn't get her back. Never where he couldn't find a way to follow, to find, to free her. And Master Corbin too. To lose both within hours of each other...they could shrivel into oblivion right now and it'd feel better than this. Master Joe had become his compatriot, his comrade in arms against the monsters and the daily dose of estrogen floating around the Archives—not that he'd trade the Mills sister or Agent Foster for ten regiments of men—not to mention a brother and friend. And Abbie...the ache in his chest seized him anew, and his shoulders hunched in against the black hole of despair threatening his breath. He couldn't begin to enumerate all the things she'd become to him. Partner, secret-keeper, fellow Witness, best friend, confidant, companion, roommate, voice of reason, inspiration, keeper of his heart. He thought he'd been in love once, had been in fact, but losing her had felt nothing like this. He'd sat in pain, suffered with the guilt that he'd not devoted enough to her, hadn't held tightly enough to a union that hadn't been what he'd agreed to, despaired that she'd died by his own hand in an effort to save Abbie. He'd had to—it hadn't even been a choice by then. Now, though, without Abbie...he didn't know how to keep breathing, wasn't sure he wanted to. Couldn't see beyond the bottom of the bottle. How could he walk through the world, the Archives, the town, this house, with memories of her around every corner, breathing down his neck, invading his mind, shredding the broken pieces of his heart into shavings? How could he solve the mysteries of the supernatural without her intellect, expertise, and help? What was one Witness to do without his other half, the best part of him, his anchor to this era? He couldn't sit still with himself and his maudlin ruminations another second. Without thinking, Ichabod hefted himself off the couch and shuffled down the hallway, making a pit stop before grabbing a box of tissues from the hall closet. He set them down on the cushion between them and took his seat again. Jenny had stayed until the sun was well into the sky, barely any words spoken but sharing the pain of their losses just the same. She'd stretched her hand out towards him, bridging the empty spaces around them with a simple reach of her arm across the cushion. He looked at her hand, open and alone in the expanse between them, and he slid his hand into hers, both of them holding on and squeezing tightly, attempting to convey all the things they couldn't speak with words. A moment later, she slipped quietly out of the house, the finality of the door clicking closed somehow louder than the slam she'd entered it with, sealing him into a solitude he'd never comprehend. More hours passed as he'd slept off the nasty hangover he wouldn't admit he had, as he sat in the bathtub letting the hot water steam over him until it cooled off and had him shivering, as he roamed aimlessly from room to room, gazing longingly at all the remnants of Agent Lieutenant Grace Abigail Mills: her hairbrush, those heeled boots that still left her a foot shorter than him, the cappuccino she'd just started drinking again at his behest, her pea coat with the faux-fur hood that made her look adoringly like a diminutive Eskimo. Now, just over 84 hours had passed, and he still didn't have a sweet clue as to how to get through the next one, still sat in this one corner of the couch, only this time without a drink in his hand. Without so many things... Without a case to work, without his partner in crime and, he'd begun to hope, in life from here until the end, without a purpose, he might as well lay back down in that cave he'd emerged from and sleep for a few more centuries. "Crane." Her voice, soft and lilting and perfect, floated to him, a haunting sound he both craved and feared. He'd thought he might have imagined her during his indulgent consumption of alcohol, but no...it was here in his lucid moments that he'd conjured the sound of her, the voice he'd long to hear until the day he drew his last breath. "Crane." She sounded hesitantly happy, guardedly optimistic, a smile coming through her tone. Exactly how he heard her in his mind, same as he'd done when she'd been lost in the catacombs. He shook his head slightly to escape from her, not ready for conversations with her yet, everything about him still too raw to face all of the things he needed to apologize for, all of the things he'd never had the audacity to tell her when she'd stood by him, encouraged him, spurred him on. "Ichabod." She accompanied her insistent tone and the rare use of his first name with a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling up from the couch to face whatever ghoul had come to destroy his feeble, battered mind. And his jaw dropped. There she stood...Abbie. In one piece, small in stature but large in presence, beautiful and strong and...breathing. How could this be? "Abbie...?" His whispered question sounded more like a squeak, but he didn't dare try again, wasn't sure what devilry was at work here, arriving to destroy him when he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable. She looked at him, her expression a mixture of sadness and apology, a small smile of hesitation and hope playing on her face. "Hi."

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest. 

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home. 

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they? 

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing. 

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.” 

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years. 

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me. 

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow. 

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl. 

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel. 

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it. 

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned. 

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self. 

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home. 

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then. 

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night. 

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level. 

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am. 

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man. 

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself. 

More than anything, I am just happy to be me. 

25 August 2021