#this thing is Rough but its not even the main focus so. puts it down gently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

praazlwurm · 2 years

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Just heard about #Volotober!

I've been working on a collection of one-off chapters set during the timeline of my fanverse, which starts with pick a god (and pray), and wrote a chunk of prequel fic set during main-game events.

It's partly inspired by a fanart of Volo studying one of the murals in this post. And here's the Picrew credit!

Posting here before ao3 (the collection will go up eventually)

(reading the "fates favorites" fics is optional, just know that Magpie is the player character, 25, and highkey actually isekai'd and not from pokemon-future)

Volo did not intend to encounter her in the icelands – not yet, at least.

He's settled inside a winding cave on the southern end of the region, warmer than some areas but still frigid enough to require the constant companionship of his newly-evolved arcanine. Between her, his lantern, and the folded bedroll he sits cross-legged on, the chill of a howling blizzard is kept out, if barely.

And, between the blizzard and the rapt attention he's giving the mural above his head, he doesn't note the scuffling approach until his arcanine perks up.

A hulking form makes its way into the cave on enormous paws, claws meant for mud resigned to make do with snow. The firelight is barely enough to illuminate a muzzle billowing steam.

Ursaluna barrels down upon him, and in his scramble to escape he knocks over his lantern.

Arcanine rises with him, letting out a sharp bark of warning, and the beast hesitates long enough for him to kick his pack out of the range of sparks.

"Woah!" comes a familiar yelp, and the lord backs up a few steps as the voice's owner slides down from their perch. Then, muffled by cloth, "Sorry! Didn't see you there -- oh, just you, Volo."

"Just me," he responds and scolds himself for the sour note as he puts his little campsite back to rights. He looks up to see her pull up a pair of slit-eyed snow goggles and allows this to excuse her tactless entry; such things were designed to block out as much excess light as possible, after all. He affects cheer as though just recognizing her (as though anyone else in Hisui could arrive with such fanfare.) "Miss Magpie! I hadn't heard you were in the north yet. For Lord Avalugg, I presume?"

An easy lie, seeing as he'd moved north as soon as he heard she had quelled the Lord of the Hollow. He thought this would give him a jump on surreptitiously keeping track of her in the wastes, but of course, such luck wouldn't bear out.

Magpie hums, setting the goggles above the furred brim of a hat and working a finger under the scarf bound around her chin. She shakes off the snow inelegantly, a flat expression barely more readable than total obstruction.

Without a response, Volo's mind races for thought, his prefabricated cover story with Gaeric inapplicable as of yet. He could pose it as resource gathering, assuming she doesn’t know the Guild traded with the Pearl Clan for most northern supplies; or simple bad luck to be caught by the storm, or even that his hand had been forced by--

"Is that Lord Braviary?" she asks.

Her voice is rough, as the lungs are often left by the wastes, but her dark eyes are bright with intrigue. She's looking behind him, and even if he feels his pulse pick up he still finds earnest cheer in his response.

"I suspect so, yes!" He settles his arcanine, but remains standing to gesture broadly. "I happened upon this cave only recently, and what an enthralling find! These etchings match a number found in other places in Hisui, though I've yet to puzzle out the significance."

Magpie moves further into the firelight, tucking her hands into the fold of her uniform. Her neck has to crane a fair bit higher than his, but her mouth moves into a familiar frown of intense focus.

He relaxes just barely, knowing that look well enough to know he can escape her notice for now. He mulls the predicament a little more and can't ignore the twist of ire in his gut.

He'd accepted weeks ago that he would never (legitimately) lay hands on the plates given to her by the lords, and instead kept her trials in his periphery while finding something else to study. A set of ruins in the mirelands had set his search ablaze, and he's been trying to work out the depictions by elimination.

"Luckily I just met him, so it’s a familiar figure. This one…” she trails off. She has yet to look over, so he doesn't put much effort into the show of tapping his chin contemplatively. She cocks her head, pointing to the top line, “It would be a little rude to have some drawn head-on and others not. But this one might be Lord Kleavor, if he’s facing left."

"Truly?" he chirps, with genuine surprise. The nearly colorless drawing had escaped parsing so far. He drags his pack back over and makes to sit, just as she looks over again.

"Mind sharing your bedroll?"

He freezes, thoughts stuttering before catching up. Volo unfolds it from a square pad to a rectangle, offering a smile both thin and saccharine. "For my favorite corpsmember? Never!"

She snorts, and they sit as he pulls a journal into his lap a bit more sedately. He flips to a blank spread, just in case, and sketches out a figure to label as the Lord of the Heartwood.

His gaze flicks up through his bangs, furtive, relieved to see her no longer looking at him but at the mural. Only for his chest to stutter when he sees her looking at the high, far right corner.

"Do you recognize any others?" he asks, light and neutral, leaning into her expertise even when he has his own theories for each figure.

"No," she says, equally neutral, but the wheels are spinning. He can see it in the worrying of her lower lip and, as the focus grows more intense, a gnawing at the cuticle of one thumb.

It's a tic he hasn't noted before, and he must be looking too hard because she shifts to look like she's merely warming her hands. She twitches as he looks away, and buries her hands in her lap.

"What do you think they mean?" she prods after a beat of snow-blown silence. Ursaluna settles down huffily, blocking what little wind could sneak in from the side they entered from just enough to gain a little warmth.

He pauses in his note-taking, looking up at the mural. The furrow in his brow is genuine as he asks, "Mean? I've been thinking it’s depictions of the figures of legend. A proto-pokedex, if you will!"

His chipper jibe slides off her as water from a psyduck's feathers, offering the barest twitch of her chin in denial. Before he can rile, and long before he would need to stifle it, she explains.

"The fact they're lined up so carefully suggests it's not just art. But, this one would impact a lot of translation if it was mistaken for anything," she says, and gestures to one that makes his breath catch.

Bipedal and bearing a vividly pink pinwheel like a shield, he's suspected it to be one of the great trio spoken of reverently in the scant remaining Celestica scriptures. He remains still, wound to strike, behind a blank mask long enough that she opts to fill the silence.

"I don’t think this could be a one-glyph to one-letter translation. It would be a lot of work to pass on such a short phrase, and not a lot of remarkable, three-letter words start with the letter bee, y'know?" she seems to jest. He feels his brows scrunch as he tries to grab hold of her meaning, and when she sees diligence in his curiosity –

She blanches.

Panic is not something he's often seen on the woman's face. Tension, tiredness, even a rare fit of pique when he'd approached her and the two wardens of the highlands.

The way she pales, the suck of breath, the brief flash of the white of her eye; it's all foreign to him, and more alarming than the nonsense sounds she had been spouting a moment ago.

"W-what I mean is," she says, and has her hands up to point at the mural, to twist and flutter articulately, something anyone else might find distracting, "they could s-symbolize ideas of things, like traveling for Braviary or, uh, woodcutting? Fighting, maybe, on the part of Kleavor."

He drags his focus away to at least feign distraction for the moment, desperately pinning this moment to the back of his mind, squarely at the top of the list labeled: Weird Things About the Riftborne.

Then, mind catching up, he sets a hook in this new line of thought eagerly.

"Using pokemon to communicate concepts?" he posits, low and intrigued. Some color returns to her cheeks in his periphery, and he continues, "That would be a fascinating way to pass on messages to future peoples. Prone to losing nuance but otherwise unchanging."

She doesn't respond, and as he's less bothered by the silence he's content with the quiet as he scribbles out line after line. Pausing every so often to turn a page or tap his stick of charcoal against his chin, cautiously noting in his own shorthand the possible 'concepts' behind the few great pokemon he's wary of her knowing about just yet.

Magpie is a terrible fidgeter, he notes as he looks back and forth between his notes and the mural. His bangs being on the side she sits at allows him to sneak glances. To see her tapping along the lines of her knuckles with her fingertips or pinching a hem.

The only one that irks him is the sudden, incongruous popping of her knuckles, wrists, and finally neck – the latter loud enough to make him flinch.

"Are you alr–" he starts.

"Sorry!" she chirps, tucking her hands away again.

He tries not to scrutinize it too much but must fail somewhere because she continues.

"It's just too cold out to add anything to the 'dex notes, and I'm all stocked up on potions, is all."

"It is cold," he grants, allowing himself a little wryness. The barrier he’s constructed between Local Merchant Volo and his fiercely guarded passions is strong enough to allow some gaps of false vulnerability. So long as it means coaxing his way into her trust for the work ahead. He's wrapping up what he's gleaned, so he hazards, "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Ugh, so," and she scooches to lean against ursaluna's side, facing him more directly. "To quell Avalugg, I need a piece of ice, but from a specific mass of ice, but specifically from the bit on top, and to reach that I need to fly up there, except the warden with the burrd," another unrecognizable interjection, "not only won't get it for me, but is making me play tag to even reach the burrd. So I thought, hey, let her stew at Snowpoint for a hot minute and I'll kindly ask Ursa– oh, I forgot!"

She stands abruptly, not minding that Volo is fully reeling from that onslaught.

As he recuperates, she leans down to the pokemon's face, coaxing, "You were onto something, just then right? What'd you smell?"

Ursaluna chuffs, grumbles, and eventually rises enough to cross the frigid stone to the foot of the mural.

He can't place why he tenses, but can equate the feeling to seeing old Calaba among the Solaceon ruins: the wariness of a stranger around his ancestral site, which came just before the shattering realization that the site had been vandalized by another party entirely.

As the beast digs, then retreats enough for Magpie to finish unearthing its find, however, he finds the tension slipping away. In their few, manufactured encounters, he's never known the woman to be glib about a history foreign to her, or treat the aged wonders around them apathetically.

In fact, he thinks as the two trains of thought begin to overlap, her reaction at Solaceon had been... extraordinarily odd.

She had gotten shifty the moment she entered the ruin, not an uncommon reaction, but upon viewing the mural she'd looked ready to bolt.

To say nothing of her reaction to the fragment itself.

On the List of Weird Things About the Riftborne, the third or fourth entry -- depending on the sorting being chronological or in order of significance -- has long been the moment she had hauled the stolen stone through the entrance of the ruin.

For the scant heartbeats before he'd greeted her with customary false cheer (and customary, less-false gratitude) she had looked... electrified.

Not shocked or surprised, but as though the only thing keeping her hair from standing on end was the perpetual weight of wetland air. She barely said a word to Calaba, something the woman took as deference, and moved with a stiltedness that looked downright painful. He had kept an eye on her from afar the rest of that day, half in curiosity and half in an uncharacteristic fear that she would get mauled by something in the depths of the swamp.

After the ruin, however, she had been something fearsome herself. Her already fully evolved partner decidueye had helped her hack and slash her way south, crossing broad rivers with daring leaps he couldn't think to match. When she had returned to the territory of the lord and warden, her pack stuffed and pokeball supply expended, the tension had vanished, placid hyperfocus returning to the matter at hand. A theory forms in his mind that she pours that excess energy into battling, which would explain not only her exceptional skill at battling, but also the fact she seems to spend more time away from Jubilife village than within it.

Volo is yanked from his reverie by her shrill gasp, not quite fast enough to lean away as she scurries to the side of his lantern and kneels in its glow. With near reverent care, something he’s quite literally never witnessed in her before, she unfurls a scrap of enticingly aged vellum and pins down the corners with nearby stones.

“Lords,” he breathes, leaning over fast enough to unbalance himself. In a spill of ink, miraculously unfaded after not seeing the light of day for decades, at least, lines of what can only be verse loop across the page. It’s an ancient form of Hisuian, far closer to the blockish single letters of the Celestica than the modern swipes of syllabic kana. Mind awhirl, it is no great challenge to let his voice lift with curious ignorance, “That… what on earth could that be?”

“Poetry, I think,” she says, and his breath catches. She couldn’t possibly– “I’ve found just a couple others like this. One right near Lord Ursaluna’s home, and one around Cottonsedge.”

She flashes a grin at him, oblivious of his pallor as the expression is so unrestrained as to pinch shut her eyes. A familiar, accursed thump echoes in his eardrums from the vicinity of his chest.

“The second was about sootfoot root, of all things,” she continues, returning focus to the page, “I think implying it to be the predecessor of the potato we use today. This one though…”

Volo watches, pulse fluttering as rapid as a starly’s, as the sky-fallen woman of indeterminate origin and bearer of less-indeterminant godly favor reads out his ancestral tongue.

“When that Pokemon was born,” she reads, stuttering over what ought to be the most commonly spoken word, “intelligence bloomed among us, enriching all our… morrows, which could mean the future in general or the broader human experie–”

She pauses, and he realizes she’s actually looking back at him. He had been so lost in the depths of his own confusion, anger, and awe, that he had been staring at her in dumbfound silence for a few minutes now.

“Volo?”

“You… you can,” he swallows, throwing lassos about his mental moorings to try and leash a coherent thought together, “you can read that?”

Magpie goes very still.

With the wind leeching in from the cave opening at her back, it could be passed off to anyone else as a chill, but Volo sees through that. Sees the way her shoulders fold in just a hair, the scrunch of her brows, the flat turn of her eyes as she retreats into herself, hauls up the drawbridge and readies the portcullis to fall between them.

“A little,” she says, quietly. A hand on the lever, or ready to cut the rope entirely.

In a heaven-sent moment, he snaps back into awareness, knowing with a fire in his chest that this is a moment he cannot lose to the sands of time.

“That’s amazing,” he says, intrigued but stifling any note of awe as he suddenly knows it would only chase her off. It’s disorienting, and to be investigated further, but he knows this is a moment to abandon a layman’s artifice. “It’s an old system of writing, predating modern Hisuian but not so ancient as to be extinct,” he says, feeling a bit like he’s coaxing out a rare pokemon.

Yet, it is in a bid towards equal footing, something he hasn’t stood on with anyone but Cogita. And the Mistress had soured at the very sight of him, refusing to relay anything more than bare bones of Hisui’s legends as though guarding them. Hoarding, he thinks sharply, for some other, better inheritor.

That thought, and the likelihood that he could well be looking at that inheritor now, is enough to anchor him once more in the present, in his own machinations.

Still, Magpie’s lips twitch into a weak smile.

“I’m… glad it’s not another dead language,” she says, eventually, and though the phrasing is baffling he nods to the sentiment. This bolsters her a bit, gaze returning to match his from where it had drifted aside. “I have a couple others I’d be glad to show you, actually, and–”

She pauses, and he catches the barest flick of her focus from his eyes to his chin. She snickers, reaching up a hand.

“You’ve got a bit of–” her fingers stop just short of touching his face, his heart pounding, and snaps back down. Like a groundwater pump, the force of it seems to flood scarlet into her cheeks, and she whips her head away. “Y-you’ve got a bit of black there. On y-your. Face.”

Oh, Arceus, he thinks, and the thought is like taking his own gabite’s Dragon Claw to the chest. He rubs at his chin mindlessly, his eyes wide and downcast. Unbeknownst to either party, both share a giddy, terrifying thought: I’m in trouble.

After about a decade of excruciating silence, Volo finds it in himself to snap back into what has fast become the neutral territory between the two of them.

“I could never deny a chance to read some ancient texts,” he says brightly, and when she dares a glance he plasters on a not-entirely-fake smile and wags his finger, “any more than I could deny my favorite customer!”

It’s the exact right thing to say, he knows with no small amount of pride, as she sinks into the kind of relief only felt by those who escape the notice of the deadliest alphas. She busies herself rolling up the scroll and tucking it away – in her pack, not what she’s bafflingly termed her “quick-ditch satchel.” He hasn’t learned much beyond the term, but thinks she might have it packed with a few essential supplies and a small horde of tempting diversions, as it's designed to provide a last-resort escape.

Volo, in turn, finishes scribing out the last of the hieroglyphic figures before shutting his journal, weighing the risks of asking “where are the other scrolls” or “could we meet again before you return to Jubilife?” Either could be too forward, but he does so ache to know more about these lost, terribly old verses.

In a moment of grace, Magpie offers a solution quite outside the realm of what he’d considered possible.

“Do you want to come with us,” she asks, and motions past him to the Lordly pokemon, “to look for more?”

“Oh, dear me. I see I’ve quite failed,” he says dramatically, and assuages a flicker of alarm by continuing, “to remove any doubt in your mind of my interest in doing so.”

Her grin is blinding, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be quite able to regret inspiring it.

• • • • •

“Keep an eye out for pep-up plants, would you?!” Magpie shouts over the sound of both the wind and the incredible pounding of ursaluna’s paws upon pack ice.

“White flowers in the icelands,” Volo responds, a little quieter as he’s inches away from clinging to her back in fear. “Will do!”

Her laugh is less vocal than it is physical, something he can feel beneath his arms as they’re wrapped around her torso. He keeps his hands clear, gripping his own forearms despite the chill, because he’s learned any sudden pivot of their enormous escort could pitch the two riders into collision.

She had barely waited for the storm to pass before harrying him on board, entirely too confident that she could hold her own position at the reins as he settled in the actual saddle. It wasn’t the worst choice, seeing as they still had some daylight left – anything was better than trying to traverse the wastes at night, even this borderline compromising position and jostling passenger experience.

“Where are we going?” he asks, hoping his voice isn’t lost to the thick fur of his uniform’s neckline, cuffed over his face.

“Wherever the wind takes us,” she answers in jest, then amends, “north, right now. Which is good since I’m supposed to head that wa–”

Ursaluna jerks into a hard bank leftward, surging so much that his spine hits the saddle’s back like a brick wall. Never has he wished so much for his guild backpack, currently lashed to the deepest slope of the pokemon’s back. Nor has he wished so suddenly for some other padding as Magpie is thrown into his front. She lets out a meager oof while he’s entirely winded.

“Northwest,” she amends.

Breathless as he is, it’s not until the lord breaks into a sprint that he yelps, incredulously, “What’s it doing?!”

“He’s got a scent!” Magpie barks, with a little bit of a bounce in her seat. Volo feels it through his arms and, far more notably, where his knees are folded forward around her hips. The woman is oblivious, so it’s up to him to quell his thoughts alone. The lord gallups on, until the distant western hills begin to loom out of the foggy atmosphere, until a sparse forest jabs defiantly from the snow to their right, until– “Stop!”

She hauls on the reins, nearly crashing the crown of her skull into his face in the process. He reels, narrowly avoiding getting winded again by preemptively tightening his hold, and sparks with annoyance for all of a heartbeat.

It’s then that he sees the enormous cavern that’s opened up in front of them, a notorious feature of the wastes known for killing misled travelers by the dozens either in falls, by exposure, or to their… residents.

Ursaluna settles from its near-vertical rear, grumbling, and Magpie gives it a commiserating pat on its enormous, discolored ruff.

“I know what to look for now,” she assures the beast as she slides down from her perch, looking up at Volo with what might be expectance. With the hat, slit-eyed goggles and scarf, not a lick of her expression gets through.

He joins the Lord of the mire in its malcontentedness, gingerly hopping down onto the slick ice which surrounds the mouths of such caverns. He reacquires his pack as, in his periphery, Magpie unloops the obijime beneath her coat, losing the cloth at her waist carelessly.

Lower on the List is that the riftborne either has not learned or does not much care for the proprieties of clothing. She adores them aesthetically, as he'd often grow bored of watching her raid Anthe's newest additions like someone starved of the arts. But barring actual nudity, from the months-ago moment she had wandered out of Galaxy Hall in a pair of trousers cut unconscionably short, she has not adhered to the average feminine Hisuian's sense of modesty.

He angles his cap down for his own sake of mind, and is yet able to see as she proffers one end of the length of gilded rope to their escort. Brow furrowing, he rescinds his aversion to look up and ask, "Why are you…"

Magpie pauses shy of the lip of the cavern, looking for all the world as one about to leap off daringly. She might smile, behind the scarf; it certainly sounds like it when she responds, "Ever heard of free rappelling?"

He very much hasn't and thus very much jolts in surprise when she does step off the ledge. He darts forward, low to the ground to stay balanced, in time to watch her lower herself down five feet or so from the eight-foot drop. Once she touches down, and out of the wind chill, she pulls up the goggles to ensure he can see that entirely barmy smile of hers in her eyes.

"C'mon down, the water's great," she jibes.

Volo looks from her, to the enormous pokemon, to the hazy skies above in search for cosmic leniency. I'm really in trouble.

Then, grasping the rope by both hands and between his thighs in a proper grip, he joins her below.

As does her partner pokemon, an umbreon she had introduced weeks ago as Panos. It spoke volumes that she had reared an eevee just as quickly to this form as she had her earlier rowlet.

Panos fluffs up against the chill, casting off a warm glow as they creep below the shadow cast by the mouth of the cavern.

In a breathless moment, he understands why the umbreon has joined them.

At the far end of a hollow of ice shaped like a distended stomach, a writhing mass of scarlet and whispy white bleeds a weight into the air. Seething malice turns the air acrid in his lungs, and he finds himself gagging on it, hanging back as she forges on.

The zoroark swipes out, wild and ruthless, but is a mite slower than the umbreon, whose effectiveness quickly sees the beast confined to yet another pokeball for further study.

"You don't even know what that was, do you?" he snarks upon seeing a look of blithe curiosity in her eyes. The same he's glimpsed at the mention of any new find. He sighs when she looks up with a tilt to her head, tugging down his now stifling collar. "That was the baneful fox, zoroark. Legends of it abound with the horrors of tragedy and spiteful memory, and it bears ill will on just about every living thing."

"It looks incredibly badass, my guy," she retorts, and before she can catch his bewildered expression at the phrasing, she turns and loops her scarf around Panos' neck and shoulders with a tiny croon of endearment.

Then she's puttering about the perimeter of the icy cavern, drawing out a rudimentary chisel of iron to test for spots of interest. An ore or two later, she ducks down and sinks the iron in a soft spot of densely packed snow rather than ice. She lets out a little, a-hah!

Volo busies himself with digging out his lantern and journal, watching as her pokemon joins her in digging at the snow. He hazards a couple paces closer, only to have her crowd into his light to read the scroll. Then, like it’s only just occurred to her, she looks up to ask,

“Can you also read this?”

“...yes,” he says, straining not to let his aggravation show. He doesn’t want to let on too much but it’s a matter of principle to say, “It’s been a focus of study for me the last few years.”

It throws him entirely to see her deflate – not disappointed, but with a hint of wariness. In the beat of quiet he feels a desperate curiosity as to what all these variables add up to. It’s as she glances away that an answer occurs to him.

She had seen something in the space beyond the rift. She might have clammed up directly after but she had and with Giratina still in the realm of Distortion…

Arceus. Of course.

As his stomach drops out from under him, she buys into his placid mask for once and begins to read.

“Wintry… austere… brimming with strange power,” she recites, pinching the vellum at the corners. “Certainly the land of Hisui bears some resemblance to s-sin… Sin-joh? Lords, it's hard to parse this without capitalization. Do you–”

Magpie finally looks at him, likely catching the tail end of his open shock at the word.

He can’t entirely help it, feeling like he’s balancing on the sheer face of Mt. Coronet. Clinging on meant keeping it all to himself, Sinjoh, Blackthorn, his ancestry. But letting it out meant freefall, a… leap of faith.

Arceus, he thinks; he prays. If ever you deigned to listen to me, or my people, speak to me now. Guide me.

Into the resounding silence, Magpie prompts, “Hey, Volo?”

He looks at her, every muscle wound tight as the springs in a pocket watch, watching as a gentle, coaxing smile curls her lips.

“Let’s get out of the cold.”

• • • • •

“Aren’t you meant to be seeking out the Warden at Snowpoint?” he asks, lightly, as he steps into the hot spring to join her. Magpie hums without looking up, resting her head against the stone and letting her legs rise to the surface. He looks away, focusing on the soaking heat rising past his hips.

“This is what’s called ‘marinating’ the enemy,” she eventually responds, cracking open her eyes.

“So not only do you make an enemy of a child,” he echoes, unable to stifle a chuckle as he sits down, “but you treat her like a serving of stewmeat?”

“It refers to–” she halts. Behind eyes drifted shut in his pleasure at the heat, he hears her breath catch. “That is, I – ugh, just shut up.”

Volo relents to a laugh, savoring the slow unwinding of tension from his muscles. With nightfall, the wastes drop to nigh uninhabitable temperatures, populated only by pokemon with ice at their cores and the rageful ghosts of anything foolish enough to brave traveling. In contrast, the hot spring she had led them to just west of the cavern below is searingly hot, leeching a mist into the air that shrouds it like a land forbidden from mortal sight.

“You know, there’s an old legend about this place holding the secret to immortality,” he sighs, keeping his eyes shut, half out of courtesy. The both of them had only their own undergarments to swim in, and as much as the riftborne intrigues him he’ll not go so low as to seduce her to his whims.

“I have a working theory,” she answers after a beat, and her tone is sly, “that anyone advertising a path to eternal legacy is actually hawking aphrodisiacs.”

His head tilted skyward, he allows himself just a beat of gobsmacked surprise. Now who isn't above seduction?

“Don’t you think I of all people would know of such a thing,” he jibes instead, finally looking at her from across the eddies of steam. He waits just long enough to spot a flush before continuing, “As a member of the inimitable Gingko guild?”

“They would sell it,” she says with just a whiff of disparagement.

“Only to the worthy,” he responds, and props himself up on his elbows when she actually engages the baited comment.

“Who would you consider worthy, wise guildsman?”

Volo looks at her, for once entirely undistracted by her near nudity and far more enthralled by the flare of curiosity in her eyes. After a long moment stewing, he offers, “I should think the most deserving people would be the kindhearted.”

“Not the just,” she asks, and he can see her hands move beneath the water, scooping up her ankles to sit crosslegged on the shelf of rock beneath her. “Or perhaps the clever?”

“There are very few arbiters of justice deserving of an everlasting life,” he mutters and traces an eddy into the water, ever preoccupied by questions of the character of his deity. He sighs, continuing, “And as for the clever…”

“It would be cruel, I think, to inflict two curses on the same soul,” she offers.

A spark races up his spine, electrifying, as he reevaluates nearly every preconception of the riftborne he’s maintained. He dares to breathe, “Curses?”

Magpie hums, mulling this in turn. “I think so. To be so curious and adept at questing for knowledge, and be given an eternity to pursue it? The experience might be interesting, but I think the older you get, the less sane you can stand to be.”

Volo remains quiet, watching her with what some might mistake as a heated gaze, though it is flush with a different kind of desperation. He so, so rarely stumbles upon someone both aware enough to engage such ideas and willing to talk to him, of all people.

“Kids are the sanest of anyone, never so insistent on making rules or forcing the world to fit into so many boxes,” is all she offers after some time, looking once more heavenward to study the skies.

Rivulets trace the column of her throat. With the moon all of a sliver of silver above, the only light is offered by the stars as they spill out across a velvety, celestial cloak.

“Christ,” her lips spill yet another foreign phrase, “what a sky.”

He could interrogate; could prod in jest at the dissonance between her apparent envy of children and her current avoidance of the waiting Diamond clan warden; could move closer across the pool and ensnare her while her mind seems adrift; could force the knowledge of the higher powers at play in Hisui with the ease of twisting a limb.

But for the moment, and for the night, he chooses to remain quiet. To listen to the gentle rasp of water on stone, the occasion doleful cry of a froslass, the wind over the wastes. To be still, wait for the morning and its renewal to approach.

He tells himself it isn’t fear that makes him turn down her offer of companionable travel at dawn. That it isn’t a twist of bitter anger that he feels when he thinks of her connection with the Lord above all, with his heritage. That it isn’t mourning, when he thinks of betrayals to come.

That he doesn’t hope she’ll forgive them.

[preceding the events of pick a god (and pray)]

Happy Volotober!

#volotober #volo #pokemon volo #volo pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #volo/oc #my brother in christ i cannot escape this verse

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years

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So, my clumsy self hurt my knee, had to have a surgery and currently walks like na elderly penguin. However, I have had time to watch The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch And Rebels in a really short time... which is one positive thing to come out of it. I was wondering, since I love hearing your thoughts, what do you think were the strengths and weaknesses of each show?

Hey sorry I'm late to a reply. You sent it pretty late and I wanted to be fully awake to respond. Let's just jump right in.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008-2020)

General Thoughts: This is probably my favorite piece of Star Wars media besides the Original Trilogy. It made me actually care about the prequels and understand what they were trying to accomplish. I love most of the episodes, which is saying something considering the length of the series. If I was going to get anybody introduced to Star Wars I would start with the Original Trilogy, maybe show them the prequel for context and then immediately get them onto The Clone Wars.

Strengths: As an anthology series, we really get to explore the world of Star Wars in a way we were unable to in the movies. We are allowed time to really get to know Anakin and Obi Wan while at the same time expanding the cast to encompass all the Jedi at their peak. It adds humanity to the all but faceless clones in the movies and adds an extra layer of tragedy to the series that the prequels tried, but mostly failed to impart.

Weakness: As an anthology series, there are some episodes that really do miss. This is the one I believe varies in quality the most and while I don't mind it so much, I can see it bothering others. Also, it does take a while to get going and the animation in the first season is really rough. It takes until season 2 to properly find its footing, but if you can stick it out until they I still high recommend it to everyone.

Star Wars: Rebels (2014-2018)

General Thoughts: A solid, fun kid's show for the Star Wars universe. We love seeing a found family.

Strengths: Having the focus on a small core ensemble is a nice change of pace from the anthology structure of The Clone Wars. It also gives us a better sense of how the rebel cells at this point are working on their own with barely any communication between them. It gives a nice sense of tension when they do meet somebody new to know if they're a friend on an ally.

The characters are what sell it though. As I said, we love a found family and I'm a sucker for any crew that will do anything for each other.

Weaknesses: I hate the animation style, I'm just going to put that out there. I am not a fan of the redesigns of the characters we knew from The Clone Wars and even the characters specifically made for the show and rather lack luster.

But I think the real problem with the show is Ezra. Now don't get me wrong, I like Ezra fine. He's got a good arc. He's can get annoying, but its understandable given where he started vs. where he's going. HOWEVER, I think it was a mistake forcing him to be in every episode of the series. He honestly is pretty bland when you get right down to it. We've seen his arc a million times, meanwhile Kanan is right there with a much more interesting and complicated history along side Hera. Not to mention everything happening with Maul and Obi Wan in "The Twin Suns". That really should have been solely focused on the two of them since it wasn't Ezra's fight at all. But, we had to take time away to cut back to him since he's the main character. Just little things like that take away from the over all quality.

I also do think it was a mistake to bring in Thrawn as a threat in such a kid centered show. Having the target audience be younger isn't a bad thing, but Thrawn is a tactician first who's whole deal is being a magnificent bastard. The fact the Ghost crew is able to get away so frequently speak more poorly of him than well of them.

The Bad Batch (2021- )

General Thoughts: This is the one I haven't actually finished. I watched a few episodes and while there was nothing wrong with it necessarily, it didn't hold my interest.

Strengths: God! The animation is so good in this. I really cannot emphasis how I much I love the animation. I would pay so much money for the crew to go back and reanimate the earlier seasons of The Clone Wars with this quality. Chef's kiss, seriously.

Also, I'm not going to deny that Omega is cute and I will never, ever get tired of that adopted Dad trope. It is too good.

Weaknesses: I just think its boring. It's fairly predictable with it's characters who are over all rather bland. This is baby's Dirty Dozen. If you have seen really any other war movie, you've seen these characters and no exactly what they're about. It's a shame too because I am really curious about the clones and the fall out of Order 66 from their perspective. The issue is, Rex is right there! There are other clones that we know who aren't genetically altered we can focus on and who we know better.

Maybe it gets better later, but ultimately I keep thinking about a better version of this show.

#star wars #the clone wars #rebel #the bad batch #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: rebels #star wars: the bad batch

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galactic-glamour-girl-posts · 2 years

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First time watching Pinky and the Brain SEASON 2 since childhood!

Figured I might as well do this one season at a time. Not much to say in the intro this time, part 1 is here, on to season 2:

-From here on out I think its mainly gonna be Wang, Rough Draft and Akom animating the show. As far as I'm aware, the only episode TMS animated was the Christmas special, which is a shame. Their animation stands head and shoulders above the rest.

-The call-backs to Animaniacs seem more frequent this season-Variety Speak is referenced in "It's Only a Paper World", the Warners cameo is "Pinkasso", Mount Rushmore is re-shaped to resemble the Warners in "Plan Brain From Outer Space" (heck Zalgar himself is from "Potty Emergency"), there's a Hello Nurse (or at least woman who looks just like her) cameo in "Brain of the Future", etc.

-This show still does the thing the original Animaniacs did where they name-drop a celebrity and that'll be the punchline to the joke. In fact I think this show does it more often. I've already explained why I find this kinda annoying, but to recap, jokes like these only date the show even further and make no sense if you don't recognise the celebrity. They're the main reason I don't consider either show "timeless".

-If anyone's seen "Plan Brain from Outer Space" and wondered why the lip sync seemed off at times, apparently it was originally a scrapped pilot for a spin off called "Zalgar The Brain-Eater", which was gonna be a series where Zalgar would hunt for a new brain in every episode, but the entire episode had to be rewritten to be a more Pinky and the Brain-centric story. That's why of the dialogue in this episode is ADR and often doesn’t sync with the animation.

Although, why Zalgar of all characters was almost given a pilot for his own spin off series but characters like Slappy or even Rita and Runt were apparently never considered I'll never know (no, "One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo Clock" doesn't count, that was never meant to be a pilot, that's just a rumour)

-I like how in "The Pink Candidate", Pinky outright refuses to go along with the rest of Brain's plan once he's president because it would go against everything he's supposed to stand for as president. One of my favourite things about Pinky is his morality so that was nice to see. Of course he still saves Brain from being stoned/put in jail in the end by taking blame for Brain's schemes in the end, but that's another thing I like about him-what he adds to their dynamic. Pinky's morality often stops Brain from going too far, whilst Brain often uses his intelligence to guide Pinky and help him focus.

-"Welcome to the Jungle" was also an interesting one. It was fun to see Brain out of his element, Pinky taking charge, and Snowball coming back. It was also interesting to compare the portrayal of Brain's dynamic with Snowball to Snowball's debut episode...um..."Snowball". There it was shown their friendship had turned into a bitter rivalry, and whilst that still is the case in this episode, despite Snowball being even more antagonistic than before (this time he's trying to get Pinky and the Brain KILLED), Brain's more sympathetic towards Snowball his time around, insisting that he needs help and attempting to save Snowball's life. He definitely misses having Snowball as a friend.

-The way Brain says the word "buddy" is so funny (I'm referencing "Brain's Song and especially "Megalomaniacs Anonymous" here). It's not that important but I felt the need to write that down.

-Actually, speaking of "Megalomaniacs Anonymous", that episode was interesting too. Brain goes on a pretty meta rant about how the universe treats him; "...the whole universe is playing a little cosmic joke. We'll give Brain an obsession with taking over the world, and then, never let him succeed! *cue crazed laughter*". That's a pretty funny way to point out that, yeah, the premise of the show is kinda messed up. He spends the episode trying to overcome his obsession, then tries to help Pinky become more independent when he finds out Pinky is "the most pathetic co-dependent victim on the planet", even going so far as to almost kick him out of Acme Labs. The whole episode seemed like it wanted to address both Brain AND Pinky's major character flaws. Also it was a nice reminder that Brain ultimately does want to make the world a better place, even if his methods aren't great.

-In "Brain of the Future", Brain mentions being from a "post apocalyptic future", and in the Animaniacs reboot segment "Future Brain", Future Brain mentioned that there was no food in the future, just dust. Brain + Time Travel = The Apocalypse I guess, lol.

-I was really interested in seeing "Brinky", given that is was the debut and only appearance of Romy, Pinky and the Brain's son (well, their first son). Although to be honest I don't have much to say about this episode. It was good... and that's about it. Pinky's concern over Brain's health after Romy ran away was sweet. One thing I found interesting was that Brain justified treating Romy like an experiment at first because that's how he was treated all his life. Given how he bonded with B.R.A.I.N (his robot son) it's nice to know the lesson he learned really did stick. I realise Romy is mostly only remembered because of what he means to the Brinky ship, and not because he's all that interesting or prominent on his own-he only appeared in the show once-but I wouldn't mind seeing Romy come back...as long as they don't acknowledge the comics as canon (he gets with Billie in the comics, which is just...ew).

-"Hoop Schemes" is probably one of the worst offenders when it comes to outdated references. Otherwise, it's a fine episode. The digs at Space Jam and Michael Jordan were funny though.

-Season 2 doesn't have as much overtly adult content as season 1 did, although given episodes were premiering on Kids WB! rather than at primetime by now, that makes sense.

-If I had to put it into words, it feels like whilst season 1 expands on the characters so that they're more fleshed out than they were on Animaniacs, but season 2 experiments with the characters, seeing how far it can push them in certain directions without making them out of character (testing Pinky's loyalty to Brain, putting Brain in and environment to completely new to him, etc).

When it comes to the characters, season 2 of Pinky and the Brain makes them more interesting than ever (at the time), I really enjoyed how Pinky, Brain, and even Snowball were written this season. The plots are also less formulaic than ever (again, at the time). The constant pop culture references/celebrity name-drops are starting to get pretty tiresome though, particularly in the dialogue-a lot of it sounded less like a conversation and more like Pinky and/or Brain were flexing how many celebrities they knew. So if the show could focus more on its characters and less on trying to be relevant, that would be great. Here's hoping seasons 3 and 4 made some improvements and are even better.

Click here for my thoughts on season 3!

#pinky and the brain #patb #brinky #patb pinky #patb brain #the brain #patb romy #snowball patb #snowball #space jam #kids wb

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glowyjellyfish · 1 year

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I started rewatching OUAT. Apparently my brain decided it was just time. I considered doing a full liveblog with silly gifs, but that would be a lot more effort than I want to put into it.

1. I know I still have one follower from my OUAT days, but am not sure about anybody else. So to recap: I loved OUAT to pieces and probably put more thought into things like the timeline and side characters than the writers did. And I loved OUAT in Wonderland EVEN MORE and still think they did a better job on that tightly plotted story than meandering on OUAT. I stopped watching mid-season 4, after they did and didn’t do several things to my favorite characters that broke my faith in the quality, but I did keep watching and mostly enjoying through the Frozen arc and the main reason I didn’t continue was just… I never got the urge to watch a new episode again. And then I was glad I stopped when I did, because what little I heard about it sounded increasingly dumb, bonkers, and, in the case of that soft reboot or whatever that was, insulting. I’m only planning to rewatch the first two seasons plus Wonderland, but if I’m enjoying myself I will probably keep going until I am not. Probably making more fun of it than before.

2. My favorites, in rough order of when I glimpse into them, are Graham, Dr. Whale, Neal, and Will. Anyone familiar with the show will probably understand exactly how the show broke my heart. I also love Rumple and Regina, and find the rest of the main cast pretty great, but there is a difference between loving a character and A Favorite.

3. I watched through the first five episodes, and was pleased to find I still liked it, and not only that, I still felt it was pretty good overall. The cheesiest parts so far are the fairy outfits, the CG, the Cinderella parts of the Cinderella episode, and some awkward dialogue when a writer didn’t know how to write old fashioned well. It shines in its characters, and the development of Regina and Rumple has so far been the absolute highlight. Emma has never been particularly high on my list of beloved characters, but she delivers fantastic feelings throughout. I know logically that way too much focus will be given to them down the road, but Snow and Charming are so damn charming and cute. The parallels between the flashbacks and the present day are also really well done, using them for character development. That’s something I think the show fumbled a little with after season 1, and got worse and worse about over time, and I also think it’s something OUATW did EXTREMELY well. But I’ll see how it looks as I watch it.

4. I do wish the show had been a little bit more clear about the town being basically in a time loop, because man what a fucked up place to raise a child. I guess they wanted to pretend it could just be Henry’s imagination for a while there to hedge their bets, but why not have Henry say “I was in the same class as that kid last year and now he’s still 9 and in third grade and I’m 10 now, what more proof do you need??” (And then Regina starts insisting he skipped a grade or something). I’m not anti-Regina at all, but lady you cannot raise a child and have him be the only person that ages and expect him to grow up normal.

5. I was on Regina’s side re Emma not being allowed to come into Henry’s life up until Regina started doing illegal shady shit to try to force Emma to leave. That’s obviously the point, but she really shot herself in the foot.

6. …I feel so bad for Graham. Poor guy. He’s the one sticking point that I wish Regina had ever made up for or felt bad about. She’s super sympathetic until you remember she literally had a sex slave who she then murdered. I mean, she’s the evil Queen, I did not expect her to behave otherwise. They just really wanted to quietly forget about it when they wanted to redeem her. Also, was Graham’s wolf dragged along to the curse—was the wolf cursed, too? Or did the wolf spend 28 years running around the woods, trying to figure out what happened to Graham and why his brother didn’t come to the woods with him anymore? The wolf also made Emma stay in town the first night, so my gut says “the wolf knew what was up”. Ugh, if I was writing the show I would have made Graham’s spirit survive death by going into his wolf and then bring him back later, like a certain wolf-bonded man from another fandom I love, but ugh it’s fine. I feel bad for him, but the character was clearly designed to flirt with Emma and then die.

7. I also think it’s fucking wild that, while cursed, Rumple somehow managed to procure for Regina a child that was both the son of the breaker of the curse and his grandson. I expect it’s a function of the breakability of the curse that Emma’s son was brought in—that perhaps Rumple was aware of that when he was going to lengthy measures to set up a trigger for his memories and everything else. I guess, within what I remember of the show thus far, Henry being his grandson and thus his downfall is the price he’s paying for constructing this elaborate curse manipulating generations of people to get his son back? Idk, we’ll see.

8. So like… if most people are cursed in a specific way that denies them what they love most, and some people definitely had details specifically curated by Regina personally, and Regina also had to go out of her way to make sure and curse Jefferson and Whale, because they weren’t in Fairy Tale Land at the time… well, I’m just wondering whether Whale’s cursed womanizer personality is because it’s amusingly apt for Dr. Frankenstein, or if it’s something Regina designed for him specifically because she saw him as breaking her heart, or something.

9. Not really feeling any ships atm. I never shipped Swan Queen, but periodically a scene between Emma and Regina will make me go “…okay I get it.” In theory I ship Emma/Graham, but mostly I shipped it because I loved him and felt so bad for him. Snow and Charming are precious, but I never found there to be much point in shipping them because they’re so canon, and they’re not the type of couple I find most intriguing. I should note that I was always actively against Emma/Hook, and really Emma/anyone; I wanted her to take more time for herself. I loved Neal, but didn’t particularly care whether he ended up with Emma, and felt that reducing him to a point on a love triangle is what made the writers get rid of him despite there being SO MUCH MORE they could do with him. I used to ship Whale/Ruby, we’ll see how I feel about that this time but I do still believe it was being set up for a while. And I still ship Rumple/Belle and Will/Ana. We’ll get there. I am sort of hoping I will spot new ships to ship as I go along, but perhaps not because I do know how things go for the most part.

And that’s all so far. I really don’t know that anybody will care, but I like giving my little reports if I cannot muster up the wherewithal to actively liveblog.

A few gifs describing Rumple because they amused me:

#ouat

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escape-from-twinkov · 2 years

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Puma (Tarkov story character rundown)

Yes another wild cat named character because i am sooooo original. The second main character of the book i’m attempting to write. Whoooe this one is a bit heavier so heads up if you aren’t comfortable with themes of Ptsd.

“He is in his 40s, slightly smaller with a deep scar cutting across his left cheek, clad in traditional green khakis from the days of the Union. He carried a drab plate carrier which only covered a portion of his chest which was decorated a small silver pendant with a red star encompassing the hammer and sickle. In his hands was a Sv-98, its beautiful teal furniture contrasting the cold, black steel of its barrel. Much like his squad-mate there were noticeable markings on his instrument, however they span from muzzle to receiver, with even the hand guard being covered in tallies and the name “Puma” engraved on its side. Much like Lynx he felt drawn to the city after hearing about the escalating conflict within the urban districts.”

character traits and background

-He’s incredibly scared of the sound of helicopters and jets flying overhead from his experiences fighting in Soviet-Afghan war. Though he knew they were on his side the brutality and terror of the strikes still shook him to his core. He had only turned 19 before he was conscripted to fight so these experiences had been engrained in him.

-Unlike Lynx, He kept his equipment and rifle in especially good condition. Taking apart and thoroughly cleaning his Sv-98 after every engagement which comes from his experiences fighting in the mountains where small particles of dirt and rock would often end up caught in the internals of weapons. Old habits die hard

-He speaks and tries to keep constant communication with his squad as it’s his way of telling who is still breathing. Should someone go silent he’ll know that they’re either dead or dying. Though he may still speak more frequently than Lynx he still tends to keep things emotionless as in his eyes it is just a distraction.

-Even when there isn’t any sign of opposition he is still constantly scanning the area around him, his eyes never holding still for more than half a second a time. To be blunt he is constantly on edge and is paranoid that a target could appear from anywhere at anytime.

-He also tends to jitter a lot never being able to stay still as a result of the constant feeling of tension he had to endure then and now. Usually he twirls a spent casing in his hands as a way to keep himself calm. However, when he finds a target and takes aim he enters his zone where he is truly calm and collected. His mind and body takes focus, putting him at ease as he concentrated to make his shot count.

-His chest is clad in old medals and decorations from his time in Afghanistan. He was taken so young so really these are the only accomplishments he has in life so he desperately tries to cling on to this empty sense of pride despite the horrors of what he had to endure. He had convinced himself that his sacrifice was for a greater goal when in reality the war he was fighting was pointless and for nothing, these medals help him stop thinking about what he lost.

-Following up on that, he tends to use the same equipment he used back then nowadays. More so because that was what he was trained with but also he feels a strange sense of familiarity with these objects.

-He tends to be rough on the younger members of his squad but he’s only like this because he doesn’t want them to make the same mistakes he did in the past and end up hurt or worse. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to communicate this advice well as he was treated the same by his elders back then as well.

-Lastly, he personified his rifle as it has been with him for years at this point. He is very gentle with it making sure to take great care of it as he is very sentimental of all the things the two have gone through. It’s also partly because it is the only thing he can truly trust here. It won’t let him down as others had and he knows that it dies with him so he doesn’t have to feel any guilt leaving it behind should he be killed

that’s pretty much it for Puma. Thanks for reading up to this point :D have a good one!

#tarkov #eft #escape from tarkov #oc

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fraserwallace55 · 11 months

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Rationale

I would have adjusted this to make it better if I had time to do so.

For my type specimen booklet I chose to explore the sans serif typeface Condor, created by American typographer David Jonathan Ross. I decided to go with this type after coming to the realisation that the original one I found to use in initial tasks wasn’t going to work, since it had no font families at all, along with only being in capital letters regardless of what was typed. Condor had 6 weights, italic versions of all of those, along with compressed, condensed, extended and wide versions in all these weights too. I also found that there was a much better, albeit vague connection with it to me, that being how it has a fair resemblance to type used in my family’s crest, but as a sans serif typeface rather than the original serif one used.

For the booklet’s palette I struggled for a while to work out a solid palette to use for it, and for a while I was working in black and white. I had committed to a simplistic duotone idea for the booklet’s general structure, since I found that would be a good way to keep the type prominent but also a strong way to differentiate and in a way isolate certain elements without making things overly intrusive and hard to focus on. Since I had no overtly personal preference to a certain colour, I never quite settled on something until I thought of using a mid red to pair with the white I knew I was going forward with as the other prominent colour. This was inspired by a rough combination of the two red tones used in my family’s tartan. I contemplated and partially experimented with how to implement the two tones of red as a flank to the main red I created along with the gold/yellow present in it, but with the direction I was going in with the structure of my booklet I couldn’t find a way to make these colours work in a way that was purposeful and effective. Due to this struggle, I ended up sticking with the very simplistic palette of the tartan inspired red, white and black, where I could try and form a slightly minimal and precise design with ideally a high emphasis on the cohesiveness and contrast of the different flat coloured pages within the booklet.

To begin experimenting with this typeface while simultaneously making it personally relate to me a bit, I incorporated my Pepeha (including smaller sized rough english translations of each line) along with occasionally adding words and phrases that relate to myself and some of my interests that shape me for each spread that included them prominently. I also made the type 3 dimensional like a pseudo 7th weight, which also made it much more decorative, which is why I largely limited it to being included in the cover pages of the booklet.

Outside of the text I tried experimenting with making use of images as something to fill in the red areas of the booklet in order to give more depth, but the ones I tried colour matching and putting into place didn’t really work in the way I would’ve liked, even when I turned them into a vector. Their detail I felt was way too high and thus made the booklet quite unbalanced, since the flat balance of its half red and white structure got disturbed by the additions I tried to implement, while also distracting from the main focus of the type a bit too much with this incorporation.Eventually I found that I could make use of my typeface for this extra detail, and using the outlines made some subtle details in every red area of the booklet. A lot of my page layouts, even though I had sketched initial ideas for them changed a lot, especially the weights spread (pages 14 & 15). This was mainly down to uncertainty about sizing and placement of certain elements, while maintaining a balance I was happy with, along with the dimensions of each individual page, which to me was quite unusual in the sense that I wasn’t used to it.

Overall, I learnt a lot from the creation of this booklet, including InDesign itself which I tried to almost exclusively make it in so that I wouldn’t be inclined to fall back on the more familiar Illustrator. I did struggle a bit with the layout of each of my spreads, which is probably where everything becomes a bit weaker in general, but I still feel that it turned out alright for my first attempt at producing something in an Adobe program that is completely new to me.

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findlayccarter · 1 year

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Bone Marrow - 1st AC

Working on Bone Marrow alongside DP Samuel was a great learning experience. Theres certain areas in terms of lighting and camera that I learned and found out about that I didn't expect I would. But also just being on a large set where everyone had there own role and there was a real pressure for time was nice to be in - even if the call time for one of the days was 5:30am.

Problems on set for me:

Our first problem that we had to overcome was the rigging for the URSA to be handheld. We needed to create a counter weight for the vocus rig so that it wasn't too front heavy. We didn't have the right screw for the cheese plate but luckily this was something that we noticed on our first day that was more of a test shoot day even though we did do some filming that wasn't intended to be done. The USRA can be a bit of a puzzle to get a comfortable handheld rig and you kind of have to combine the built in shoulder rest with the stuff from the vocus rig. The main struggle was finding a way to make it quick to change from handheld to tripod so that the camera could be rested on the sticks for safety reasons between scenes.

Nucleus wireless focus. Every-time I've used it on set so far theres been a random power issue problem that seems to happen suddenly mid shoot that can't be solved. The last time it happened the D-Tap cable wouldn't power the motor from the URSA or V-lock battery. This meant I had to use the Joy stick arms and power the motor from them with the rechargeable batteries. This same thing happened on Bone Marrow, however I couldn't power them through the joy stick handles either as they wouldn't power up. After sitting for a while scrolling through forums I couldn't find anything, I messed around with the power sources, trying to test If it was because the power draw the camera was getting wasn't enough but nothing would work. I'm still unsure of what the problem is but I'm putting it down the the D-tap Cable as thats the only part that seemed not too work and when we were able to get a new one from screen academy it started working again.

In terms of problems, only having two isn't two bad and we managed to solve them.

In terms of stuff I learned or realised when on set as 1st AC was mainly focus pulling related. Without wireless monitors BNC cables are going everywhere and sometimes it's not possible to be out of the way somewhere with mini video village pulling focus. I had to adapt and get comfortable with holding a monitor and pulling focus and I think by having the remote around my shoulder down at the side was the best option.

Being fairly new 1st AC role I wasn't used to creating marks or other standard practices that professionals may use. Looking back I wish I'd tried to create marks with the rings so that I had an idea of how it worked. However the system I found most successful was;

Focus Peaking on monitor (change settings of colour/sensitivity based on shot)

Creating safety marks in the remote for the edges of the lens - the lenses were so old therefor the focus ring was quite tough so I had to have the torque on a high setting. Sometimes if the motor got to the end of the focus ring it would come off, so having the internal marks on the remote would mean I could avoid the motor coming off the tracks as much as possible.

Be there for the blocking so can get a rough idea about focus changes

Floor marks help keep focus consistent

Trust my eye

Talk to director/DP about focus style - general notes about what to have focus on or if theres changes in focus based on character for example. But also based on the style of focus, especially if its a low T-stop. Is the main focus the eyes, or is there another focus that the director is trying to capture.

Always have a manual focus backup. Ideally the Alexa follow focus as it comes with the bendy arm - we had to use this when the nucleus died and honestly worked quite well even though it was a tracking shot.

I'm very grateful for Samuel and James bringing me on this project, it was fun to watch the process of everyone working together and my favourite bartender Robbie pour too many wasted pints in Bennets. Can't forget 2nd AC Davide either, laughing through the long days the whole time.

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lonespektr · 2 years

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Oct 30th Glorious

Ryan already lost his pants and is...in a void

Ok sleeping while driving

Very dangerous pull over good job

Located pants

You supposed to nap real quick though bro not get out

Enter creepy old plot twist its a lady this time

She has tiny not quite origami creatures and knows the trick to the old ass vending machine

Weird psychedelic flower out front

His ?? Worldly possessions in the back of the car

Very dramatic whhyyyyy regarding a stuffed bear

Apparently someone/thing off world heard him

Calling the ex again down bad having a break down

He is at least aware of his melodrama

Annnd whisky

Drunk decisions bon fire with ....brendas? Stuff

At the rest stop friend has been here for HOURS now and no one else has stopped

He also hasn't napped

Passing out drunk

Psychdelics

Pants gone

Burned them while drunk

Vomit oclock

This soundtrack is really trying to be a main character here it's not bad but if it is THAT invasive they should just go full Helix

......continued Internet difficulties 😐😐😐😐

The glory hole finally

It's got a Cthulhu type painting with a naked lady with a worm head

JK Simmons is being very pleasant and odd as in nice but asking very basic questions that should be obvious

Ryan (was) finally realizes he can't actually see the person in the bathroom the shadow/poor lighting just happens to fall so that no like ya know ...feet are visible below

After some ridiculous conversations and the occupant of the stall stating his is a god or at least a demi god

And tries to look into the glory hole

To obvious results you can't gaze upon the face of god and he had an episode which included a flash back of his ex and passed out

Naturally he tried to escape and now he is locked in

Has yet another freak out

Looks outside and there's psychedelic pink shit outside the gods who has a weird old name says he trapped until an undetermined amount of time

Now he's trying to escape through an air vent as jk Simmons rambles on pontificating

The universe has a favor to ask

Ryan is trying to escape now the only way he can disassociating and giving out with his ex

J.k. Simmons made his ears bleed to cause him to focus

So he can tell his back story, a bigger god thoughts accidentally began to take shape and he didn't like that very much so he thought another thought...destruction

My destruction doesn't want to be destruction, he thinks humanity is pretty sweet not interested in being the destroyer of worlds

Here comes the glory hole joke

There's a Cthulu appendage coming out of it

The property manager came to check the facility and jk Simmons traps him in there too and manages to fulfill the black man dies first rule of horror films rip dude you were an asshole

The soundtrack is putting in work

Blood rains down like fresh snow to a heavenly chorus

Brenda has game as she is decidedly neither tall nor blonde I would go to say specifically coded as simetic heritage

You have to suck Cthulhu cock to save the universe

The glory hole is glowing with heavenly light

annd Ryan sticks his -the audacity

Men so homophobic won't even do anonymous gay shit with an alien to save the universe

Jk (pun intended) he needs his liver (smol piece)

Points for the jk saying you really thought your penis was going to save the universe

Ryan doesn't want to give up his liver - via fragmented bathroom mirror shard

And now he's ranting about a shit dad

The rest stop is coming undone the universe is bleeding through

Break down number 3 in which Ryan starts yelling out into the cosmos for popa

Uh oh busted papa space god is here

Now he's threatening to steal his ryans memories well I mean he's illustrating the macro

Jesus all that for a girl you known for two months YIKES 😬😬😬 down bad

Literally was gonna ask he just knows...where his liver is? And how's he going to extract it without passing out from the pain

Creepy box of frightened women like at least 14

Plot twist he's a serial killer?

Who does a months long fake relationship? Them murders???

Yeah man rough.... Don't fall in love with your murder marks

They actually showed the monster

I mean the clue was there, your deeply misogynistic dad offs your mom that's grade A serial killer building blocks

Did they think we needed a bad guy to explain to excuse the self mutilation? It was fine enough he was a douche bag

They just wanted to explain why he was picked

Not special as in chosen one but unique as in especially shitty and this is a double suicide because we are both terrible

To quote jk exactly

We are both beings of pure destruction

#spooky 22 watch

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babblydrabbly · 3 years

Text

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

#peacemaker #peacemaker x reader #peacemaker x you #Christopher smith #dceu smut #dceu fanfiction #I don't know what happened; I had ideas for some dialogue between peacekeeper and reader and it turned into thiS #peacemaker smut #smut #mywords*

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e-jaegerenthusiast · 3 years

Text

lurk~toji fushiguro x reader

(part 2 to u&i bully!megumi)

art by sab_xcvii

I am respectfully looking down. down.

had to down a couple of beers to get through this bro—

all characters are of age.

based on the song ‘lurk’ by the neighbourhood

warnings/tw; smut, cheating?, age gap, rough sex, choking, daddy kink, spitting, size kink, slight dumbificantion, degrading, praise kink, nipple play (both receiving)

summary; what happens when you learn more about megumi? and believe it too.

w.c; 6k

you’d been thinking about megumi all weekend. his face and all the events from the prior day swirling inside your head as you pondered them over and over, trying and hoping to find an apology in midst of all the pants shared between you both. of all the words he said to you.

just a simple apology. an apology to ease your heart, an attempt to clear all the things he put you through. all the times he humiliated you, all the times he embarrassed you and made you feel unimportant, unwanted. that’s all your beating heart wanted from him.

yet he never said those two words. not as he kissed you, not as he led you to the backseat of his charger, not as he slid in your mouth, or not as he fucked into you.

your chest filled with anxiety, he used me. curling up in your comforter as you tried to push away your negative thoughts with the soft music playing in your ears.

that was until your phone gave out a ding. picking it up, the light of it filling your dark, depressing room as you read the text with an unknown contact.

‘hey, bunny’ it read.

you squinted your eyes, where had you heard that nickname before? ah yes. the parking lot. the devil himself.

you groaned, locking your phone and wrapping yourself in your warm duvet again. your phone lit up again with the sound of his text. you blinked a few times as you shook your head and unlocked it again.

‘forgot to tell you’ as you read that, you pressed the contact and saved it as “megs </3”

your heart filled with a sense of hope, the little burnt flame igniting within you again, it died down as soon as it had been planted in you as you read the next text,

‘i got your number from one of your friends’

you sigh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you. not fuckin-

you were brought out of your thoughts as another text popped up

‘hello?’

‘y/n?’

‘did that bitch give me the wrong number?’

you wish you could just type out a lie, saying he got the wrong number, and forget that megumi fushiguro ever existed in your life. sure, maybe it was petty of you to hold a grudge against him for not apologizing even after the sensual acts that took place between you both the day prior. however, it was important to you. you needed to know he actually felt guilty those times. you need to know he felt as shitty as you did on the inside. you needed to know he wasn’t just using you. he technically never said that either, just told you to not say it.

nevertheless, you’re typing away before you can stop yourself. you should have.

‘hey ‘gumi’

‘no you got the right number’

you don’t really know what else to say. waiting patiently as the 3 dots start moving, signaling he’s typing.

‘good.’

‘i’ll pick you up in 30. be ready.’

you glance at the time on your phone, 5:30. you had enough time.

‘okay’

‘see ya cutie’

you get out of your bed quickly. taking a quick shower as the warm water helped you relax. you wear some jean shorts and a tank top with a silver necklace hanging lowly on your neck. you do some light makeup, only a little colorless lipgloss and mascara, as you tie your hair up in a ponytail. a few strands coming loose, not really being bothered to re-do it, you head down the stairs and go outside to sit on the porch, waiting for megumi.

in a couple minutes, his black charger comes to a halt infront of your house, you get up, grabbing your phone and your small purse, sliding it around your neck as you make your way to his car.

he leans to the passenger side and opens the door for you, giving you a smirk as you get in, gaze faltering on your jean shorts as he licks his lips. you give him a small smile, “hi.” your voice is soft as you observe him, the smell of rough lavender fills your nose this time instead of the cedarwood and musk, it seems gone now. his raven hair is damp atop his head, signaling he just came out of the shower.

he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, his hair brushing your forhead as he pulls away. a blush creeps on to your cheeks, “hey, beautiful.” he smiles as he fixes his gaze on the road and presses the gas pedal.

he puts his hand on your upper thigh, “how are you?” you bite the inside of your cheeks, “fine.” his gaze stops on you for a second before looking back at the road, “you’re lying.” you sigh, trying to come up with an excuse. how could he tell whenever you’re lying? “I uhm.. I just have a bit of a headache.”

he hummed, “if you say so.” he gave you a smile as he squeezed your thigh. you decided to push all your thoughts away for now and only focus on him. you put your hand on his, “where are we going?” he looked at your hand with a smile, “my house.”

your gaze fixed on him, “why not outside?” he looked over to you, “I lost my phone somewhere at the house.. but if you don’t wanna go there I don’t mind. we could just hang outside.” he said with a shrug.

you thought it over for a few seconds, he was offering you a chance to see his house, where he spent most of his childhood in, so if you got the chance to see more of him, you would be a fool to not take it. you gave a soft squeeze to his hand on your thigh, “no, yeah let’s go to your house.”

he smirked as he made a sharp turn into a street, his knuckles flexing on the wheel. this was pretty far from your house, the houses in the neighborhood were all a fair distance away from eachother, each one looking modern and rather large.

he pulled into the parking way of one of the houses, as you looked up from your window, you could see the house was just as big as the others, glass panes covering one whole side of it instead of walls. the parking garage’s door slid up with a press of megumi’s finger on a remote. he parked the car and you both got out. a sudden feeling of anxiety swimming in your chest as you saw the big black ram next to where megumi had parked, was his dad home?

megumi grabbed your hand in his, holding you close and interlocking your fingers as you both made your way up a small flight of stairs. “my dad’s not home, I think he’s at the neighbors’ house, he’s his friend.” you swallowed, your shoulders relaxing as you nodded.

he let go of your hand as he opened a door that led to the huge living room, mostly black and dark grey furniture everywhere, it was calming in a sense. he twirled around with his arms open infront of you, “as you can see the house’s pretty fuckin huge. I hate it— so I’m not gonna give you a tour or anything. but,” you frowned at his words, fidgeting with your fingers. he moved towards you, smiling, “how about you give yourself a tour as you call my phone and try to find it? please? I need it for this one senior assignment I’m getting today.” you nodded slowly as he flashed you a big grin, kissing your cheek before storming off and yelling, “my sister needs my help with something! I’ll be back!”

with that, he left you alone standing in the large empty living room. you sighed, finding his phone seemed to be pretty important to him. you got your phone out of your purse, starting to dial megumi’s number as you wondered around the house. he didn’t seem fond of this house, it was really big though so you thought family members could easily ignore each other for days. that’s probably what megumi would do.

you dialed his number over and over, looking around the vastly sized kitchen, the dining room, and some other rooms downstairs. megumi had left upstairs so you thought that’s probably where the bedrooms are and he had most definitely looked around in there. so you decided to take the stairs that spiraled down instead.

as you made your way down the stairs, a faint sound of the bass of music hit your ears. you followed it down the narrow hallway that was filled with empty white vases and fake plants. the music was getting too loud for it to be a ringtone. it led you to a big white door, you opened it as you stepped inside.

you were met with an even bigger looking room than any of the ones you had seen on the main floor, mirrors were covering all its walls, the music loud as it blasted through the soundproof ceiling, there were lots of equipment and machines, oh. it was a gym. was it bigger than the living room and kitchen combined? probably.

you dialed megumi’s number again, walking around the gym, staring at everything with wide eyes. how fucking rich were they? their own personal gym right under their penthouse, you scoffed at the excessive wealth they had, or his dad had.

you heard a light vibration, going towards it as you could see a faint light on the ground next to a towel, right under the mirrors on the wall, you bent over to pick it up, megumi’s phone. finally.

as you stood back up, your eyes set on a huge, tall body in the mirror standing behind you, before you could even look up to see who it is, you screamed and turned around, jumping back against the mirror, closing your eyes as you brought your hands in front of you offensively, as if you could do any damage with them.

you slowly opened your eyes as you heard a deep chuckle, toji fushiguro stood infront of you. tight workout shorts sticking to his legs, bringing out his huge thighs, a black tank top sat upon his chest, a slight wet ring formed around the front of it as his body was covered in sweat, glistening.

his body was beyond huge, making you look so insignificant standing before him. he ran a veiny hand through his damp hair, bicep flexing as he did so, “done staring, pretty thing?” your mouth went dry, as if you weren’t practically drooling seconds before.

you could hear your heartbeat in your own ears, you were about to fucking black out. and you didn’t know why, his presence was so intimidating, the smell of cedarwood and musk filled the aroma around him, making you dizzy. so that was his smell yesterday in the car.

he towered over you, licking slightly at the scar on his lip, “cat’s got your tongue? or has megumi got a deaf plaything this time?” at the mention of your hearing, you tried to focus on the loud song playing instead of your unsteady heartbeat. the song was a forgein rap, turkish maybe? as it blasted through the gym and bounced off the ceiling.

you cleared your throat slightly, not trusting the power of your voice right now, “I uhm.. no.. I was just looking for fushiguro’s phone, and I uh.. found it here.” you waved the phone in front of your face, trying to show him.

he raises a brow, turning around and moving towards what seems to be a cable crossover machine. he grabs the hem of his black top with one hand, sliding it over his head as he dries the sweat around his neck, leaving the shirt there like a scarf. you stand there, staring at his muscular back. pressing your thighs together, why were you pressing your thighs together? this was megumi’s dad.

megumi’s phone kept buzzing in your hand, you looked at the screen, notifications on notifications showing there, you couldn’t see the texts unless it was unlocked but you could see the contact names, most of them were not saved, the rest being emojis.

“7 notifications from 💥”

“4 notifications from 👅”

“3 notifications from 🧜🏻‍♀️”

you could feel the rage settling in your stomach and all the way to your head, having a tight grip on his phone. the sound of weights bumping into eachother made you jump, looking up at where toji stood in between the machine, his arms working with the cables as his pecs flexed and unflexed.

the man glances at you from the side of his eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat. he keeps opening and closing his arms with the wire, his gaze not leaving you as you practically have a staring contest. he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them as the scar on his lip tugs upwards with his smirk.

he stops moving his arms, making you flinch again with the sound of the weights hitting the metal, you find yourself pulling away your gaze from his crotch. when did you start staring at the bulge in his shorts?

you felt dizzy again as he started walking towards you slowly, his manly perfume filling your nose again. taking the damp black top around his neck and tying it around his forhead, he makes it into a makeshift headband as he pulls his hair back out of his forhead and up. you gasp at the sight, looking down at the ground in as your face starts heating up.

he stops a few inches infront of you, holding his large palm out to you as he motions for you to give him megumi’s phone. the loud forgein rap seems to fade away as his deep voice rings in your ears again, “explosion one’s ‘bitch that sucked him off real good,” he scrolled through megumi’s notifications with his thumb. the big phone looking tiny in his large hands, he held a bored expression on his face as he made your heart clench with each sentence, “tongue one he went down on,” he scoffs and chuckles darkly, “damn brat, the mermaid one must be the girl he fucked in my pool last night and denied of ever doing so when I busted his ass.” he twisted the phone in his hands and held it out to you.

a horrid expression filled your eyes as you kept your gaze on his chest, “oh and you must be the sunset girl, hm?” you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes, “w-what??” he leaned forward and tucked megumi’s phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts, his big hand covering the majority of the cheek of your ass, making you shiver as your nose was practically in his neck, his musky scent making you dizzy.

as he pulled away, he whispered in your ear in a voice you could only recognize as seductive scary, “you look smarter than to be used by my excuse of a son, doll.” you blinked a few times. trying to register what just happened before quickly getting past him and making your way out of the gym and upstairs.

your head was swarming with thoughts as you sat in the living room, clutching megumi’s phone in your hands. you stared at the spiraling stairs that would lead you up to where he probably was. you were trying to mentally get yourself ready, should you ask him about it? should you even mention it? toji’s voice clouded your brain, he called you megumi’s plaything. was it true? were you just like all the other girls? getting used by him and getting lost between the many ‘emoji’s’?

you took a deep breath, heading upstairs and calling for megumi. his head plopped out of one of the rooms, hair in fluffy spikes as he smiled at you. “did you find it?” you nodded and walked towards him.

giving him his phone, he motioned for you to join him in his bedroom, sitting on his chair in the corner of the room as you sat on his bed in the center, looking at him anxiously as you gripped the bedsheets beneath your palms.

he was focused on his phone, scrolling through something with furrowed brows and an amused expression before he looked at you standing up and grabbing what seemed to be his car keys from his desk.

“hey uhh.. I’m sorry one of my friends is in big trouble, I gotta go but I’ll be back okay? do you wanna stay here until I come back?” he waited for your answer, lightly bouncing his foot as if he couldn’t wait to get out of the room and to wherever he was going.

you felt like you could cry any moment now, you just needed him to go away, to not be here to witness your pathetic tears and emotions. you bit on your bottom lip, should you wait for him? or go home? “uhm, yeah I’ll wait..” you said as his ocean blue eyes stared at you in anticipation, you couldn’t say no to them.

a wide smile came onto his face, giving you a salute and a small “thank you” before he hurried out of the room, getting downstairs with fast steps that you could hear.

you took a deep breath, falling back down on his bed, it smelled like him, like lavender. god what where you doing? your eyes felt heavy like your heart, why did you give him a chance to slither his way into you heart? he was supposed to stay your bully.

before you knew it, you fell asleep on his bed, your brain too swarmed by your thoughts that you wanted to just push away. you felt like you were half asleep, still being aware of your surroundings.

you opened your eyes to a vibration, it was your phone in your hands, you looked at the time, it had been almost an hour since you laid on his bed, not even aware if you were fully asleep or not.

you sighed, getting off his bed and out of his room, you looked around for a bathroom, finding it not too far from megumi’s room, in the same hallway a few steps down.

when you came out, you turned around only to bump into a chest, looking up, you covered your mouth with your hands, “I’m sorry! uhm...” it was megumi’s dad, he had a grin on his face, his hair damp atop his head, his chest bare, and a towel hanging around his torso.

he gave you a look up and down, “you’re good, where’s megumi?” he waited for your answer, but saw you fidgeting with your fingers and pouting, “he left you didn’t he?” you nodded weakly.

he brought his hand to his own chin, rubbing at it as he seemed to be deep in thought of something, then his gaze caught yours, your eyes dilating as a devilish grin made its way accross his lips.

before you could blink, your back was pressed against the wall of the hallway, his large hand around your throat as he towered over you. leaning his face close to yours as your eyes fluttered with his minty breath in your face, “then how about,” he tightened his grip on your throat, making you choke on a breath as he continued, “we get some revenge on him, yeah?”

you were speechless, this all felt like a fever dream. that’s it, maybe you hadn’t even woken up yet, maybe you were still sleeping soundly in megumi’s room. but the wetness pooling between your legs as he parted them with his knee said otherwise.

he smashed his lips onto yours, kissing you at a slow pace until your small hands were grabbing at his chest, pushing him away to look up into his dark eyes, “t-this is wrong— what are we—“

he sighed, “your little boyfriend is out fucking someone else right now, please don’t tell me your little teenage heart is in love with him or some bullshit.” he was right. you were nothing to megumi, you never had been. so why shouldn’t you act like he was nothing to you?

his eyes were searching your face, his brows scrunched together. you grabbed a fist full of the back of his hair and brought his lips down to yours, you could feel his smirk against your lips before he started to kiss you back again, this time rougher.

his tongue pushed against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him taste you. the smell of musk was all around you, making you dizzy as you grabbed at his hair. the kiss was a sloppy mess, his tongue dominating yours and biting at your bottom lip as he pulled back.

he pressed his bulge against your center, making you let out a small whimper as you looked up at him with doe eyes. he leaned in again, but this time his lips went to your neck, his tongue pressing against your pulse point as the beat of your heart got faster and faster. you could feel him sucking and nibbling on the skin of your neck, leaving trails of crimson and rosemary all over your collarbone as you shuddered and small pants left your mouth.

his large hands were pressing into both sides of your hip, the towel around his torso shuffling as he practically grinded your clothed center onto it. on of your hands was laced through his hair, grip tightening as his mouth traveled down to your chest, pressing wet kisses right above your boobs that were still covered by the material of your shirt. your other hand held onto the large muscle of his bare bicep tightly, crescents forming from your nails as he bit the hard bud of your nipple from above your shirt.

your hand on his bicep traveled to his chest hesitantly, so hesitant that when your fingers accidentally brushed against his left nipple, he hissed, a shudder running down his spine and pulling back from where he was marking you up. you studied the loon on his face closely, his eyes were filled with lust, looking you up and down as he towered over your small form.

you looked back at the hand that was resting on his pec, his nipple hard right between your index and middle finger. you took a deep breath, slowly moving forward towards his chest, he watched you as you pressed a kiss to his nipple, his arm twitching from on the wall, the fingers from his other hand tightening around the flesh of your tiny hip. he wanted to stop you, let you know who’s in charge, but he decided to wait, wanting to know what you’re up to.

you pressed another kiss to the bud, only this time, your tongue pressed against it as you pulled away, earning a grunt from him. you stuck out your tongue circling his nipple in slow movements as your other hand trailed down his defined stomach, grabbing onto the self-made knot of his towel as you attempted to pull him closer than he already was.

the way your tongue was swirling around his nipple as you sucked slowly, kissing it after each nibble had him weak. he was god awful thankful that you couldn’t see his face right now, because his expression was not him. his face was burried in your neck, the tip of his nose a light pink that dusted his defined cheekbones too. his eyes were scrunched shut, his nose upwards as his mouth was agape, small pants and broken breaths leaving his pretty lips.

when you finally got the knot of his towel free, the white material going loose around his torso, you bit down on his nipple gently. that was his breaking point, the rope that finally snapped. hearing a deep growl from him, you could feel large hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you up so you were flush against him, both your legs locked around his waist and your hands tight around his neck as you hid your face in between his two large pecs.

you were so lost in the strong smell of the shampoo previously used on his chest that you only felt his girth in between your legs when he started walking you both down the hallway. your eyes widened, looking down in between you and at the generous amount of manhood he had to give you with a gasp. you were dumbfounded, stuttering over your words as you tried to form a sentence, he was walking you both somewhere, a deep chuckle vibrating from his chest as you pressed your head to it again.

“ssshh don’t worry about that, doll.” he said, rubbing circles onto the flesh of your ass with his thumb. you pulled your head back from his chest as you felt his hands shuffle, throwing you onto a bed as you bounced a few times, your hair fanning around you as you closed your eyes, trying to prepare yourself for whatever is to come.

your eyes opened wide as your nose picked up the now familiar scent of lavender, looking around you in a haste, you were on megumi’s bed.

you looked forward, the sentence you wanted to scream at toji dying down on your tongue when you saw him crawling towards you with a malicious grin, the veins in his large biceps flexing with every moment, his cock standing upright under his stomach, the tip red and angry as precum dribbled onto the lavender-smelling sheets below you both.

his large form is above you, hands on either side of your head as he leans down again, grabbing at your shirt in an animalistic manner, you thought he was gonna tug it over your head, closing your eyes. you opened them back up when you heard a loud shredding sound. he had ripped your top to pieces, the fabric ripping in two beside you as your naked chest was exposed to him.

he raise his brows, the side of his mouth where his scar resided rising up into a half-smirk, “no bra? fucking dirty.” he grabbed one of your boobs, rolling your nipple in between his fingers as he took the other one his mouth, humming around it as his long eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, his gaze coming back to stare you in the eyes as you watched him. “were you prepared to get fucked by him again?” he said in between pressing his tongue against your nipple, earning small pants and whimpers from you.

“didn’t expect to be splayed out like this under his dad instead did you now?” his voice was deep, he sucked on your nipple repeatedly, making sure to give the other one the same attention as he rolled the other bud in between his large fingers. you moaned out loud when you felt his sharp teeth biting into your chest, “speak when you’re fucking spoken to.” he said as he landed a slap on your other boob, you whimpered, nodding your head “y-yes— I mean— n-no I didn’t—“

he gave out a dark chuckle, his hot breaths driving you crazy as he switched between your boobs, sucking and biting on the other one as he held them both in his hands, “haven’t even fucked you, yet you’re all dumb under me already.” he said with another chuckle as he hummed around your nipple.

he came back up to your lips, his huge cock pressing into your clothed center. you felt his fingers wrap around your throat, rising your head slightly from the pillow and bringing your face closer to his, your nose touching his, his gaze feral as it pierced you, his lips inches away from you as you could feel his hot breath over your lips.

he gave you a passionate kiss, his tongue diving into your mouth before he pulled away, your lips following him to get more, but he only chuckled darkly again, looking down at where his cock was practically twitching against you. “you gonna take your slutty fucking shorts off? or should I rip them as well huh?” you shakes your head rapidly, “n-no.” you squealed.

he raised his brows, his gaze moving between your eyes and your lips, his hand tightening around your throat, “no, who?” he nearly growled out. you squeezed your eyes together, breath catching in your throat as you whine out “n-no… daddy.” he smirked, giving a single smooch to your parted lips before loosening his hand around your throat, “atta girl, now c’mon, do as you’re told and I’ll play nice on you ‘kay?”

your hands were shaky as you lifted your hips, sliding your shorts down halfway to your knees, struggling to get out of them under his dark gaze. he groaned, rolling his eyes as his hands replaced yours, tugging the shorts down fully and throwing them somewhere on the floor.

he looked down at you, licking his lips. a wet patch had formed on your panties, his large hands coming to your hips, grabbing onto the waistband of your underwear before he groaned again, “too much fuckin work.” you heard another ripping sound, he had tore your underwear too, disregarding the pieces that remained on the bed as he ran his fingers along your inner thigh, his eyes coming back up to your face to watch your every expression.

“oops.” he muttered, snickering at you, before his face turned into one of— concern? your lips were trembling, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to blink them away. he moved up again, his hand coming up to hold your face in his palm, his thumb wiping at your wet lashes. “what is it, doll? are you scared?”

you sniffed, shaking your head grabbing his other wrist in your small hands, shakily bringing it to your lower stomach. he smiled, humming, “you want me touch you? take real good care of you?” his fingers inched closer to your clit, but still not touching, only grazing the upper part of your pussy.

you nodded, “uhh huh— p-please, fushiguro.” he chuckled again, the sound becoming familiar to your ears as you wanted to hear it more and more. “please??” he said in a teasing tone, his voice dropping a few octaves down if that was even possible.

“p-please toji—“ he laughed, the noise making your cunt flutter around nothing. “wrong answer, doll.” he slapped your clit, the action catching you off gaurd, making you let out a choked whimper. his hand still on your cheek, going down to grip your jaw as he hummed quizzically. “please, daddy.”

“mhhmm,” you felt his palm graze your clit as one of his thick middlefinger fingers entered you, your back arching and hips bucking up towards his hands as you moaned. “there you go, right there?” the pad of his finger pressed against the perfect spot inside of you, your thighs shaking around him as you nodded and moaned, his chuckles feeling your ears again.

your hips were bucking up against him in a circular motion, your walls tightening around his single finger as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to unwind, right then and there, he pulled his finger out of you, snickering as you whined. you looked down at him, his finger that was in you seconds ago now in his mouth as he hummed around it, “you taste so sweet, doll.”

he leaned down, taking his large cock in his hand, stroking the base a few times before lining it up right at your entrance, he was on his knees, looking down at you with a raised brow, “I’d ask you if you’re a virgin but,” your eyes widened as you felt his head move into you, your hands gripping the sheets and your knuckles growing white as you whimpered. “you’re a naughty little— fuck— slut. but still tight.”

your walls fluttered around him repeatedly as he tried to fit in more of his cock, stretching you open almost painfully, but god the stretch felt amazing. you felt like you could rip the sheets any moment now with the grip you had on them, you could barely keep your eyes open, nuzzling your head into your own neck and whimpering.

until you felt his fingers wrap around your throat again, looking at him as your mouth hung open, soundless breaths leaving your mouth and onto his face as he smirked, his cock was spreading you open so wide, you could feel every vein, every ridge of it brushing against your tight walls, and eventually his big balls tapping at your ass when he bottomed out.

he stilled inside of you, letting you let out your choked breaths until your hips were rutting against him, he groaned, “I’m trying to be nice here, give you time to get used to it, and you go and grind against me while I’m balls-deep inside of your tight little cunt?” your eyes rolled back as he gave you his first thrust, hard and unrelenting. making your tits jiggle up and back down again, your hands going to his wrist that is around your throat.

you hold his lower arm with one of your small hands, and the other around his wrist, pressing down on your throat until a squeak comes out your mouth, his cock twitches inside of you, and you clench around him as he gives you another hard thrust, “want me to choke you? you’re dirty like that?” his fingers tighten around your neck, and your around his arm and wrist.

his thrusts are hard, fucking into you with all the power in his hips and pulling out agonizingly slow, just to ram back in again. you moan out and let out incoherent babbles, he hums quizzically, and you lol your tongue out, his thrusts slow for a few seconds, chuckling darkly. he spits in your mouth, right on your tongue, and you can feel his thrusts speed up again as he grunts out “swallow then.”

and you do, you take all that he gives you, your cunt flutters around him again, your orgasm close as you claw at his large biceps, whimpering and moaning out, “f-faster, please daddy.” he groans, taking both his arms and balancing himself on top of you, but closer.

his hips move faster, not hard and agonizing anymore, but he listens to you. the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room and mixes with the ragged breaths coming out of his mouth, and then loud moans you’re giving out, your hands go to his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach snap, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the back of his hair.

he moans, the sound cutting short as he presses his lips to yours, it’s messy, just a wet battle of tongues as you both swallow eachother’s sounds. a string of saliva connecting you both as your pussy gushes all around him, cumming with a scream and another pull on the raven strands of his hair.

he keeps giving you sloppy thrusts, helping you ride through your orgasm, “fuck— yeah, cum on daddy’s cock baby, just like that.” his voice is shaky, the words coming out between broken breaths and grunts. he gives you one last thrust, making your whole body shudder as he fills you up, his warm cum painting your insides, as he moans repeatedly, his brows scrunched and his forhead resting in the crook of your neck as he tries to calm himself.

he lays on top of you for a while, but slowly pulls away as you start groaning, his body weight crushing you. with a chuckle, he pulls out, and it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve seen. he’s on his knees between your legs, holding the base of his own cock as he pulls out slowly, one side of his hair is in the air, messy around his head and beads of sweat decorate his chest.

you whine out at the feeling of being so empty, and he snickers, shaking his head and leaving the room before you notice. did he just leave you? you lay on the bed, and try to get up before his cum can stain megumi’s sheets. your legs are shaking as you try to make it to the bathroom, your lower stomach burning with an unfamiliar pain, you had never taken a dick this big before.

you washed up, getting out the bathroom with shaky legs, holding the wall for support. until you bumped into a chest, again. you looked up, he looked the same as when he left the room, “you really need to stop doing that doll. unless you want me to destroy your cunt.” toji says with a smirk, making your cheeks heat up.

“why did you get up?” he asks with a raise of his brows. you struggle to stand, your knee buckling as his gaze goes down to your trembling legs, chuckling as he has you in his arms in the blink of an eye, carrying you back to megumi’s room. “you can’t even walk now can you?” he says teasingly. and you huff, furrowing your brows as he sits you back on the bed.

“I went to bring you a shirt. since ya know-“ you look up at him, your eyes sparkling as he holds a black shirt in his hands, giving you a smile, “arms up.” you obey, putting both your arms up, waiting for him to put his shirt on you. he licks his lips, grinning as he gives out a chuckle, looking at you tits being stretched up with your hands, you didn’t even notice. you squeak, putting your arms back down and on your chest, trying to cover them as he chuckles again, his green eyes hooded and dark as he watches you, “hiding them from me as if— how adorable.” he shook his head.

he threw you his shirt, “go on, megs will be here soon.” you wear the shirt, the fabric big on you, the musky smell filling your senses again. you couldn’t face megumi now, not in his dad’s shirt.

toji chuckles, moving his hand through his hair as he clicks his tongue, “don’t think he can see you like this can he? or would you want that?”

your cheeks grow red, and you nibble on your bottom lip as you shake your head.

he sighs, “come down to the garage after you put your pants on. or don’t, that’s even better.” he leaves the room with a chuckle.

what did you just do?

•••••••••••••••••••

taglist? @medusa1111 (@itadaklmasu cuz your reply said part 2 heh) @emilykcoxx @calamariie (cuz you guy replied to part 1, hope you like this too <3)

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji #toji jjk #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro toji #megumi jjk

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quacka-quacka · 2 years

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Hi i want to ask you about Paul jealousy towards John. Do u think his jealousy are same as John? Thats what i see from Get Back, Paul always get away from this. People always focus on John jealousy and mental psychology while Paul often being ignored or under explore. I just want hear something from you because your blog quite fascinating about Paul, makes him more human i think.

Yes, Paul is also a jealous guy, especially towards John. The legendary partnership of Lennon-McCartney is not only created by cooperation, but the mutual competitiveness that neither of them wanted to be behind each other in any way. It's just that Paul is the only one alive who can always say his songwriting partner was jealous of him whereas John, unfortunately, was busy being dead.

The rivalry is always there, I think, it didn't explode until the final time of the Beatles- when John brought Yoko into the studio. That's really pushed Paul's jealousy to a new level, he actually spends rest of his life competing with JohnandYoko, either about itself or its enormous impact.

The intimacy between John and Yoko bothered Paul most at the beginning when he just got dumped by his fiancee not long ago. It can be seen that he is jealous of John for diving into a romantic relationship so much as well as Yoko taking his creative partner away. He always considers himself as the only one who was desperate to keep the band together but he actually made the situation worse by bring several girlfriends into the studio to get his own back. He couldn't help doing it even if he knew how absurd this competition was. As George said, "That really helped put the nail in the coffin."

We all know what happened next: The Beatles was disintegrating while John and Yoko was at the height of their popularity as the high-profile anti-war couple who acted like messengers of peace with the famous slogan "Make love, no war." A succession of eye-catching peace activities during the Vietnam War made JohnandYoko a cultural iron and made John well known as an intellectual, a political figure, a true artist. After his death he was put on a pedestal not even his Beatles colleagues could reach. Till today, even the wife beater image can not weaken his influence, actually, it's part of it for being so famous that even the bad things are so widely known.

I don't like any of their peace events and works (including the song Imagine), nor the saint John people worship who has been reduced to a couple of labels. It's kind of sad to see such a funny man with extraordinary charm be remembered as a hyper serious person talking about world peace. But it can't change the fact that they are the main reasons that made John much more famous than other Beatles. Paul isn't content with it, he has always been trying hard to prove that he deserves the same praise. Those main public images of John are the ones Paul highlights in his interviews and books:

Intellectual

It's an old chestnut that Paul has always been arguing he isn't viewed as an intellectual like John. Obviously it's another competition with John as well his resentment towards stereotype he thinks caused it all. The lad who said "we ain't written no poetry" with his innocent huge eyes widely opened eventually become a bitter gammer babbling "John never had anything like my interest in literature." What a sad thing to see.

Artist

The one Paul seems to care about most - as a rough estimate, praising how artistic Paul is takes up half the length of Many Years From Now. Whether it's avant-garde loops, film, orchestra or painting, he's good at it.

PAUL: We used to have drawing competitions in the group where we'd sit down and say, 'Let's draw Mal,' and mine was often the likeness. I used to catch it. John's were often like crazy, because he couldn't actually draw like that. He did character drawing, he drew his little men, people with bulbous noses with hair coming out of them, bizarre character stuff, but he wasn't actually that good at representing something figuratively.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(If I never saw his drawings I may buy that Paul is a realist painter more distinguished than John.)

In fact, it connects with the intellectual one, only in a more specific aspect. When it came to making loops, he didn't forget to say he and John was "wildly in reverse" on intellectual level:

PAUL: I was into a lot of those things, which was very strange because I was at the same time known as the cute Beatle, the ballad Beatle or whatever. I hate to think what I was known as. John was the cynical one, the wise Beatle, the intellectual. In fact at that time it was wildly in reverse.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

Political Figure

I don't like this one but it's crucial to John's public image. As he thought John would become "Martin Luther Lennon", Paul must be aware of that too.

He could be a manoeuvring swine, which no one ever realized. Now, since his death, he's become Martin Luther Lennon. But that really wasn't him either. He wasn't some sort of holy saint. He was still really a debunker.

— Paul McCartney, off the record conversation with Hunter Davies, 1981

Paul's rude remarks can be understandable consider what mental state he was in just five months after John been shot dead. But he doesn't seem to mind calling John "a manoeuvring swine", which can be found quoted in Many Years From Now - his official biography written in the 90s.

The others, much as they also loved him, regarded him as a 'manoeuvring swine', as Paul once put it.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

(George and Ringo: How did we get dragged into this?)

He already had a problem with Bagism back in Get Back session. And 30 years later, after praising his leadership in marijuana legalization protest for a whole section in Many Years From Now, the long journey of "Expanding the Field of Consciousness" end up with a comparison with Bagism and Imagine:

This was the first example of Paul's involvement in political lobbying, a skill which he would later apply with great success to saving his local hospital in Rye, Sussex, and in starting and funding the Liverpool Institute of Performing Arts. The Beatles signed and paid for the advertisement at his instigation. There was no high-profile posturing. He did not sit in a black bag or sing a song about it, just supported a traditional method of lobbying. In this instance quiet and effective work led to a change in the law - from which he himself benefited when police found pot plants growing on his Scottish farm in 1972.

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

In a certain way it is really an intense relationship that both of them can make the other one extremely jealous if any inequality exists. In Paul's case, as a person so insecure and so afraid of losing face, his jealousy also fueled by the public. The competition continues after John's death because he isn't on Lennon's bandwagon of being one of the greatest men in the world. It sounds snobbish but it's hard not to believe this is true.

#i hate 1-video-per-post limit #paul mccartney #john lennon #john and yoko #the beatles #mclennon

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Don't Forget About Us

Hello, my lovelies. Here’s my contribution to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes smut challenge (the prompt is in bold!) Let’s see what Erik’s up to now, shall we?

Don’t forget to check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots. Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me, so make sure to let me know what you think! And let me know if you want to be tagged in any of my writing. Enjoy😘

Word count: 5,595

CW: smut...duh.

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“So, what do you do for a living?”

Kayla sighed internally at the question and took a sip of her Pinot Grigio. She hated first dates with a burning passion, but unfortunately, that was the only way to find a man around here. She went through the motions of politely answering his questions, barely asking any of her own. She didn’t care. Even just fifteen minutes in, Kayla could tell he didn’t excite her, and she lamented the waste of a good outfit as she listened to him drone on about his life. Every now and then, he’d stop and ask a question about her, but she could tell he was only asking so he could talk more about himself.

How many siblings do you have?

What’s your sign?

Why did your last relationship end?

Her mind traveled to her ex-boyfriend, Erik Stevens. They had spent six blissful years together, and Kayla thought he was the one. She wanted them to get married and start a family, and she thought he did, too, but every time she brought it up, he’d find some excuse to change the subject. At thirty years old, Kayla wasn’t getting any younger, so she grew tired of his avoidance and eventually cut him loose. She needed more out of life, but the guy currently sitting across from her certainly wasn’t it.

“We wanted different things,” she answered vaguely and took another sip. It would be a long night with what’s-his-name. David? Devon? Whatever. At least he had money and took her to a nice restaurant.

Darryl took the opportunity to bore her with the details of his job, which Kayla already knew. He was a colleague of her best friend, Carina’s husband. They worked at the same law firm, and Carina decided to hook them up after tiring of hearing Kayla complain about dating apps. As much as Kayla hated Tinder, she would’ve much rather been at home on her couch swiping left on the cesspool of single men Oakland had to offer. Every few dozen swipes or so, she’d find a cutie, but his bio would be abysmal, or his conversation skills would fall flat.

Despite the fact that their relationship just couldn’t make it, Kayla still thought of Erik as the gold standard. Just thinking about his dimples and his struggle beard made her smile dreamily. His big, strong arms would wrap around her and hold her tight at night, and she’d trace her fingers over the intentionally placed keloid scars that held his darkest secrets. She missed retwisting his locs and the way he always smelled like sandalwood and warm vanilla. Kayla didn’t want to admit it, but she still loved him. No man could compare to her Erik.

“Hello? Kayla?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that last part?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. What’s got you so distracted, babygirl?”

Kayla fought the bile rising in her throat. She wasn’t his babygirl. It didn’t even sound right coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the thinness of his lips. They weren’t “white man” thin, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the juicy pussy pleasers she had grown accustomed to.

“Nothing, just thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

“Just that you look beautiful tonight,” Damon attempted to flirt with her.

Kayla wanted to roll her eyes but thanked him instead and smiled politely again. Of course she looked beautiful; she had pulled out all the stops for what she had hoped would be a good night out. Kayla had squeezed her thickness into a lavender satin dress. The way the dress’s skirt cinched on the side kept it snug around her plush waist, but the high slit that traveled up her thigh was the main attraction. The strappy silver heels on her feet showed off her matching pedicure that contrasted beautifully with her glistening brown skin, and her makeup was flawless. Her outerwear for the night, a cropped fur jacket that had found its way to the coat check when they arrived, was the icing on the cake. Her outfit deserved the appreciation, just not from Deshawn.

The waiter saved her from having to focus on her date when she brought out the food they had ordered. Since Kayla knew Derek had money, she had ordered the whole lobster, and she fought her mouth from drooling too much as the waiter set it down in front of her. It laid on a bed of forbidden rice, and the side of roasted brussels sprouts and cremini mushrooms looked heavenly. The ramekin of drawn butter off to the side tempted her as it sat next to the minuscule seafood fork. She may not enjoy her company for the evening, but Kayla damn sure was going to enjoy her meal.

“Looks good,” Dominic called from the other side of the table, breaking Kayla from her trance as he cut into his wagyu beef.

“Sure does.” Kayla wasted no time before digging into her meal. Not only was it the perfect excuse to avoid conversation, but it was perfect, period.

A slight chill permeated the air as the door swung open and the crisp January air entered the small restaurant. Kayla shivered as she complained internally about being forced to sit near the door, but that shiver intensified as she heard a voice. His voice.

“Reservation for Stevens, please.”

Kayla stilled.

“Of course. Right this way, sir,” the maitre d’ responded, and Kayla heard three sets of footsteps coming her way.

--------

“Babe, let’s go!”

“Yell at me one more time, woman,” Erik warned as he came around the corner into the living room, fastening his watch.

“I swear, you take more time getting ready than I do.”

“Whatever, Mo. You ready?”

“Nigga, I been ready!”

Erik rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys. It would be a rough night, and things were already starting off on a bad foot. He and Monique had been seeing each other for the better part of a year, and he’d finally reached his limit. She was overbearing, rude, and just after him for his money, but he hated being alone, so he put up with her bullshit. His cousin, T’Challa, had tried to hook him up with a few ladies back in Wakanda when he went to visit after his breakup, but nothing stuck. Almost immediately after coming back to the states, Erik met Monique at a charity event for the Outreach Center. She had the singing voice of an angel and had been booked as the entertainment for the evening. Erik was drawn to her like a sailor to a siren, and she immediately sank her teeth into him. Past her vocal talents, Monique wasn’t really anything special. Her personality left a lot to be desired, she wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, and she just wasn’t her.

The moment Kayla ended their relationship a year ago, Erik’s whole world shattered. He had lived a life full of pain and loss, but Kayla had been his lifeline. She pulled him out of the dark and made him revel in the sunshine. Hell, she was the sunshine, but now he had settled for a UV lamp at best. Kayla had wanted a life that Erik was too scared to give her, but that fear became his downfall. He still missed her most nights. He was lonely, and Monique was there to keep him company, but that wasn’t enough for him anymore. Erik craved a connection that Monique just couldn’t provide. So he decided he had to break it off and figured that doing so in a public place would probably be best. She had a tendency to throw things when she got angry.

The car ride to Chez Martine was tense. Monique had been angry all day because Erik had taken back his credit card even though she wanted to buy a new dress for their date. Her lousy mood almost made him dump her back at his condo, but Erik kept a cool head and stayed focused on the plan. He ignored the way Monique complained the entire time she got ready, reluctantly putting on a dress he had seen her wear before. It didn’t matter to him; he knew what the night held.

When they walked into the restaurant, Erik’s heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recognize that shoulder blade tattoo anywhere. She had cut off all her hair and lost a few pounds, but he knew for sure that he was looking at Kayla. His Kayla. He forced himself to look straight ahead as they passed her table and prayed that the maitre d’ didn’t sit them where she could see him. Unfortunately, he had no such luck because the only open table for two was directly within her line of sight. He prayed again that Monique would sit on the far side of the table, but Bast ignored his pleas once more. He had to sit facing her, and as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, her gaze slyly trailed over to him. They locked eyes across the room, and Erik’s heart stopped. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her all those months ago, but who the fuck was that sitting across from her?

“What are you looking at?” Monique’s abrasive voice cut through his eardrums.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, that’s all.”

She cut her eyes at him and turned around to look as he buried his face in the menu.

“Quit being nosy,” he complained.

“I just wanna see who’s got your attention, that’s all.” Monique turned back around with a sour look on her face. “It’s probably that fat girl with her cleavage all out.”

“Mo, just look at the fucking menu and act like you got some sense.”

“Fine.”

Monique pouted until the waiter showed up, but she plastered a fake smile on her face as he took their order. As usual, she ordered the most expensive thing on the menu, and it bothered him to no end that she was hellbent on spending all of his money. Of course, he had plenty, but she felt entitled to it. Kayla never cared about him being rich. Hell, when they got together, she didn’t even know he was a prince, but he loved to spoil her nonetheless. He loved the look on her face when he’d buy her things or take her on the expensive trips that she more than deserved. Kayla appreciated everything he did for her with all her heart, but she’d say the same thing every time.

“Thank you, baby, but you’re all I need.”

Erik smiled fondly at the memory of when he bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from Wakanda for their second anniversary. She was so excited to have diamonds that weren’t marred by exploited labor that she damn near dropped the box when she saw what was inside. It had been a rough year for them, what with him disappearing for a couple of months to seize the Wakandan throne and all. She certainly had plenty of colorful words for him when he came back. He’ll never forget the look on her face when he showed up at her door. He had brought T’Challa for backup just in case, but she looked right past the king as tears welled up in her eyes at seeing her Erik, alive and well.

Erik’s eyes started to get misty as he thought about the way she kissed him with so much emotion...then slapped him across the face for leaving. His gaze wandered back over to Kayla and he noticed the light bounce off of something on her arm. She was wearing the bracelet.

As if she felt his glare, Kayla shifted uncomfortably in her seat, so he averted his eyes back to Monique, who had caught him staring again.

“Why don’t you go say hi?” she asked sarcastically, making him roll his eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

--------

Erik Stevens. Here, of all places. He just had to be here.

Kayla noticed that he didn’t seem to be enjoying his modelesque date’s company any more than she was enjoying Darwin’s, and the pang of jealousy she felt at seeing him with another woman went away. She knew she had no right to feel any kind of way about it, especially since she was the one that broke things off. That didn’t make it any easier, though.

Dylan was too wrapped up in his steak to notice her wandering eye, but it seemed that Erik’s food was as uninteresting as the woman across from him. Kayla watched as he half-heartedly pushed it around his plate, but he certainly kept his favorite whiskey coming. She wanted to chuckle but didn’t want Daniel to think he had anything to do with her levity. They were both drowning their dissatisfactions in their alcohols of choice, and Kayla got a phantom taste of Uncle Nearest 1856 on her lips as she watched him take a sip. When he set the glass down and licked his lips, Kayla felt flush. She missed those lips…

“So, how about dessert?” Damien asked as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “I hear their creme brulee is amazing.”

“Uh, sure, why not?”

“You know,” he began as he leaned in and reached for her hands. She allowed him to take them, but the softness of his hands disgusted her. No callouses, no roughness, not even a firm grip. “I’ve had a great night. I’d love to see you again.”

Kayla chuckled nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“What are you doing next-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

A shrill voice pierced the air as Erik’s date bolted up from her seat. Desmond, and the whole restaurant, turned around to see what was going on, and Kayla took the opportunity to remove her hands from his.

“Keep your voice down,” Erik sneered through his teeth. “We’re in public.”

“So?! You bring me out here just to dump me? To dump this?!” she gestured at her slim figure, and he rolled his eyes.

“You ain’t even all that,” he waved her off. He was tired of playing nice, and Kayla could see the exasperation written all over his face.

“Excuse me, miss-” the waiter attempted to calm her down, but the crazed woman cut him off.

“Stay out of this!”

“I’m so sorry,” Erik mouthed to the poor man who would absolutely be getting a monstrous tip later.

“Oh, you’re sorry for him, but not for me?”

“Mo, just sit down. We can finish our meal like adults-”

“Fuck you, Erik.” She threw her dirty martini at him, soaking the front of his all-black ensemble.

Kayla could damn near see the steam coming out of his ears as his apparent ex stormed out of the restaurant. Erik locked eyes with her across the room, and when he saw the concern written all over her face, his softened.

“Whew, poor fella,” Dexter commented as he turned back around. “Where was I? Oh-”

“Excuse me, where’s your restroom?” Kayla interrupted him as their waiter walked by.

“Right down there.” She pointed at a set of stairs off to the side, and Kayla thanked her as she slid out of her seat.

“I’ll be back, Darius.”

“It’s Denzel.” He deflated.

“Fuck,” she froze. She had been sure it was Darius. “Still, I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he responded, obviously upset by her slip-up.

Kayla hurried off down the stairs and leaned against the wall as she waited for either of the single-use restrooms to open up. She took a deep breath and opened her clutch, reaching in to pull out her phone with a shaky hand and typing in his number. It was one of the few she had memorized, just in case.

“You ok?”

Her thumb hovered over the send button, but she couldn’t press it. Her heart nearly thumped out of her chest at the thought of starting a conversation with him, but something within her said that she should. It would be weird not to say anything after all that, right?

“Hey-”

“Shit!” Kayla dropped her phone when his silky baritone graced her ears.

“My fault, ma.” Erik leaned over and picked the phone off the floor, checking it for cracks. He saw she had typed a message out to him and smirked before handing it back to her.

“T-thanks.”

“No problem. And, yeah, I’m ok.”

“Huh?”

Erik pointed at her phone screen.

“Oh! Right. Um, well, that’s good to hear.” Kayla attempted to push her hair behind her ear out of habit, forgetting she had just cut it all off a week ago.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You ok? You don’t seem to into ole dude out there.”

Kayla sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, him.”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Erik laughed, and she slapped his arm. That slight contact was enough to spark a flame in them both, and Erik’s face turned serious. “For real, though, not going well?”

“Better than you, it seems,” she quipped as she eyed his wet shirt. That was a bad idea because his first three buttons were undone, and she caught a peek of the raised scars that she missed so much. And that broad chest, and the chain with his father’s ring that he always wore. He’d let her wear it from time to time, and she always felt like it was such an honor. He trusted her enough to let her wear it. He loved her enough to-

Kayla pried her eyes away and made yet another mistake: she looked up at him. Those eyes still looked like sweet, sweet molasses, and even though his locs were braided back, she could tell he was letting them grow out. She momentarily wondered who was retwisting them nowadays, but her train of thought was cut short by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. Kayla’s mind went blank as she inhaled slowly.

“Heh, yeah. That was...that was pretty embarrassing. Not even gonna lie.” Erik looked away shyly, unable to hold her gaze.

“I guess you’ll need to find a new date spot, huh?”

“Nah, I think I’m good on dating for a while.”

“Same,” Kayla sighed. “Dating sucks.”

“Yeah…”

One of the bathroom doors unlocked, and a middle-aged white man stepped out and passed them on the way up the stairs.

“Well, I should-”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Kayla walked towards the bathroom, but before she could reach the door, she felt a light tug on her wrist. His touch still gave her goosebumps, and he noticed her raised skin as she turned to face him.

“I just, uh...it was nice seeing you, Kay-kay.” Erik smiled at her, and she nearly melted. She missed when he called her that, too. “You look good.”

“Thanks, E.” She smiled back. “So do you.”

He let her go, and Kayla disappeared into the bathroom. When she closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to center herself. After all these months, Erik still took her breath away. He clouded her senses and scrambled her mind. Even as she took care of business, her brain replayed their short interaction on a loop.

Kayla locked eyes with her reflection as she dried her hands. How could she go back up there to- what’s his name? Oh, yeah, Da- Denzel. That’s it, Denzel. How could she go back up there to his mediocre company when the man she still loved had made her feel so alive with just one touch. That was the magic of Erik, his magnetism. When they were together, she couldn’t help but be drawn to him, even when she wanted to slap him across his beautiful face. Those were some of the best times, though. If she was angry at him, he knew exactly what to do to calm her down. To put her in her place. To remind her-

Kayla’s daydreaming was cut short by a knock at the door.

“Occupied!”

It came again.

“I’ll be out in a minute!”

She reached for another paper towel to dab off the sweat that had started to pool on her skin at the thought of Erik’s dominance when the door opened.

“What the f- Erik?!”

He pushed inside the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“You need to start locking doors, Kay.”

“I- what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you,” he spoke as he moved closer to her.

“Here?!”

“Yeah, here,” he chuckled.

Kayla rolled her eyes and tried to push past him.

“Now is not the time or place-”

“When is?” he blocked her exit, and she crossed her arms in defeat, looking up at him through her lashes as she leaned against the sink. “Look, I just need to say something real quick.”

“Fine,” Kayla sighed and gestured for him to continue. She knew there was no use fighting him. She wasn’t leaving that bathroom until he was good and ready.

“Kay,” his voice softened, and she looked away only to have her face pulled back in his direction. “Kay-kay, look at me.”

She made the mistake of doing just that, getting lost in his eyes again.

“I miss you,” Erik murmured.

“Erik-”

“Look, I know, ok? I know. And I’m sorry, Kay. I really am- no, look at me. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you...but I miss you, girl.”

Kayla’s eyes welled up with tears that she tried her hardest to blink away, but one had the nerve to fall. Erik wiped it away, and the next one, and the next one. A sob wracked Kayla’s body, and he wrapped his arms around her body.

“Don’t cry, babygirl. I know you worked hard on your makeup.”

Kayla laughed through her tears, but the emotions washed back over her, and she buried her face into his chest. It was already soaked with gin, so what harm would a few tears do?

He held her and rocked her softly from side to side as she cried, and after a couple of minutes, she found the will to look up at him again. His cheeks were wet, so she reached up and swiped her thumbs over them as she held his face in her small hands. He nuzzled into them and kissed her wrists.

“I miss you, too, E,” she croaked.

“I know, babygirl.”

He leaned in to kiss her forehead, and she closed her eyes as his soft lips caressed her skin. They stayed intertwined for who knows how long until Erik felt Kayla begin to pull back. He looked down at her, and the two of them locked eyes. Before they knew it, their lips had met in the middle in a passionate embrace. They got lost in each other for a moment until common sense returned to Kayla, and she pushed him off.

“We can’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because what, Kay?” Erik’s voice rumbled as he closed what little gap was between their bodies. He left soft kisses on her temples before working down to her cheeks, then her jawline, and eventually the column of her neck. She let out a soft whimper when his teeth grazed the crook of her neck but pushed him back again before he could continue any further.

“Erik, I...I still love you, and-”

He attacked her lips with his, hands feverishly gripping her waist as he pushed her further into the sink. She had nowhere to go, and she was ok with that.

“I...love you...too...babygirl,” he whispered between kisses.

Kayla’s mind went blank as he lifted her up on the counter and pressed himself between her legs. She could feel him, all of him, and damn did she miss that monster between his legs.

“Erik,” she moaned as he nipped at her earlobe. He still knew how to play her body like a violin.

“Mmm, say it again.”

“Erik!” she squeaked as she felt his strong hands grip her thighs.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she flooded her already wet panties.

“Baby-”

He connected his forehead to hers and stared deep into her eyes. “You miss me?”

“Mhm,” Kayla nodded with her lip between her teeth.

“I miss you, too, baby. I think about you all the time. Every day,” he pecked her lips, “every night. I miss everything about you, Kay-kay. Your off-key singing, your horrible cooking-”

“Shut up,” Kayla giggled as his hands traveled up her dress.

“Your body…fuck I miss this body. I miss how you smell, how you taste...how that tight little pussy feels wrapped around my dick.”

Kayla widened her legs for him as his fingers found their way to the seat of her panties, stroking up and down her slit. Erik kissed his way back down her face and over to her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her spine.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself? Because I do. You’re all I see when I stroke my dick...wishing it was your hand...your lips...this fucking pussy.”

Erik pushed her panties to the side, and his nimble fingers circled her clit. Kayla let out a small moan that was music to his ears, making fingers move faster and her breath grow shallower with each rotation.

“Answer me.”

“Mhm.”

“Come on, babygirl, you can do better than that. You think about me when you play in your pussy? This pussy right here?” he asked as he slapped her vulva, her wetness sticking to his hand.

“Y-yes, baby-”

“Uh-uh, you know who I am. Say it,” Erik commanded as he snuck three fingers inside her wetness, making her moan loudly in his ear. “Shhh, you gotta be quiet, babygirl. You don’t want people out there knowing how much of a slut you are, right?”

Kayla shook her head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now, I asked you a question, Kayla,” he reminded her. His gruff voice made her weak, and the fingers that were steadily speeding up inside her certainly didn’t help. “Answer me. Who am I, babygirl?”

Kayla tried to hold out as much as she could. She didn’t want to say it, too proud to give in, but the way he was currently stretching out her pussy and curling his fingers inside her made her cling to his shoulders. The bastard knew what he was doing, and she didn’t want to let him win. But then, he played dirty and bit down on her neck. She cried out, and when he pulled back to look at her, the ferocity in his eyes drove her up the wall.

“I said, who the fuck am I, Kayla?” Erik growled. His hand sped up, making her weak with every thrust. She couldn’t hold it anymore and came undone around him, her mouth betraying her as his name fell from her lips.

“Daddy!” she gasped as her pussy spasmed, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn right I am,” he kissed her lips, “now gimme that pussy. Daddy missed his pussy.”

Kayla heard a rip and felt the cool air between her legs as he tore through her panties to get to her treasure trove. She reached down between them and grabbed his clothed erection in her hand, making him groan as he bit down on his luscious bottom lip. She undid his belt buckle and slowly unzipped his pants before reaching in and pulling out his throbbing dick.

The longing in her eyes told him everything he needed to know, so he pushed her legs back and tapped his head on her clit.

“You want daddy’s dick in you?”

“Mhm,” she whimpered.

“Good.”

He pushed in and groaned at the feeling of her pussy walls gripping him as he sheathed himself inside her.

“Fuck, you feel like home.”

Kayla moaned into his neck in response and wound her hips against him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he stroked into her slow and deep. She couldn’t form words. He felt so damn good inside her that Kayla’s brain had short-circuited. Erik’s dick hit spots that she could never find herself no matter how hard she tried. Even in her dreams, he drove her body wild. She had spent the last year trying to find somebody, anybody who could make her feel that way, but nobody could compare to Erik Stevens.

Erik and Kayla panted heavily into each others’ mouths as he made love to her body, and as soon as Kayla started to tense up, his thrusts grew harder.

“I-I-”

“I know, babygirl. Daddy feels it,” he groaned as he nipped at her bottom lip. “Cum on my dick like a good girl.”

His words sent Kayla into overdrive, and her body shook as she spilled over him. Her spasming walls hugged him tight, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, begging him with her eyes.

“You feel amazing,” she moaned.

“Mhm. I know them other niggas wasn’t hitting it like this. I just know it. Look at you, cumming all over daddy’s dick. Look at it!” He grabbed her chin and made her look down at her throbbing pussy as his dick slid in and out of her.

“We look so good, daddy!”

Erik slammed into her, and she bit into his shoulder to keep from screaming. He gave her his all over and over, rocking the countertop in the process.

“We’ll look even better if you let me cum in this pussy. Mix my cum with yours-”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” He chuckled. “You want it that bad, huh? Nasty ass, in here getting fucked while that bum ass nigga’s waiting for you upstairs.”

“Mmm, I want it.”

“Want what, babygirl?” Erik teased as he brought his thumb to her clit, strumming it slowly as he thrust into her.

“You. I want you to cum deep in me.”

“Shit,” Erik groaned. “You want it deep in there?”

“Mhm. Put it where it belongs, daddy.” Kayla licked up the side of his neck, making his knees buckle. “Cum in your pussy.”

Erik lost all sense of control and pounded into her tight pussy, somehow getting even deeper in preparation for his release. Kayla held on tight as she felt him begin to spasm inside her, and she released around him again as his deep moans tickled her ear. Erik thrust extra deep and held his dick in place as he emptied his balls into her warmth, whimpering lightly as she rubbed his back to soothe him and bring him back down.

“I missed you, babygirl.”

“I missed you, too, daddy.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until their breathing slowed. Erik was the first to move, slowly pulling himself out of Kayla as she whined at the loss of contact. He kissed all over her face before planting a slow, sweet kiss on her lips.

“I can’t let you go again, Kay-kay,” his voice cracked as tears threatened to fall from his eyes again.

Kayla pulled him back in and kissed him so deeply that she nearly lost herself in him again, but he pulled away and looked her in her eyes.

“I’m serious, girl. I’ll do anything. I’ll marry you, give you as many big-headed babies as you want. Just, please, Kay-” she cut him off with another kiss to shut him up.

“We should go back to my place and talk,” she whispered, and Erik’s face lit up. Something about the way she said it, the way she kissed him, the way her body still responded to his...it gave him hope. Kayla smiled at him and pecked his lips once more before hopping off of the sink. He had to catch her because her legs were wobbly, and she stumbled a little in her heels.

“You aight?” he laughed.

“No, nigga,” she slapped his chest, and the two of them got caught in a laughing fit. They had really just fucked in the bathroom at Chez Martine. Kayla was on cloud nine until a thought occurred to her, and her face fell flat. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” Erik’s face turned serious, and his eyes scanned over her body, looking for whatever the problem was.

Kayla started giggling again, and he looked confused.

“What is it?” he asked, barely able to keep a straight face. Her laugh was always so infectious…

“Demetrius.”

“Who?!”

“My date.”

“Girl, don’t worry about him. He probably thinks you dipped out anyway.”

Kayla shrugged and fixed her dress as Erik stuffed his shirt back in his pants. They checked their reflections in the mirror, and Kayla was pleasantly surprised that her makeup was still intact thanks to that setting spray she had splurged on the other day.

“Ready?” Erik asked as he admired her beauty. Kayla nodded, and he unlocked the door, opening it to find Duncan leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face. Kayla’s eyes blew wide as she tried to figure out what to say to her date for the evening.

“Heyyy, um…”

“Denzel,” he seethed.

“Yeah, sorry. So, um, we’re-”

“Sorry, bruh,” Erik clapped him on the shoulder, “but we heading out. Bathroom’s all yours, though.”

Erik pulled Kayla along, and she sent Deion an apologetic glance before following Erik up the stairs. It seemed the whole restaurant knew what had occurred, but neither one of them cared. They were just happy to be around each other again. It had been entirely too long.

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