#though I have made some measurable progress toward catching

[lies]

.

[symbioticsimplicity]

So I made a sequel to this post, and it looks like there will be another part after this! These boys are too much fun to leave alone, thanks once again to @thediktatortot

Part 3! Part 4! AO3 link!

                                                             *

Steve dearly wished that whatever God he pissed off in his life time didn’t have such a fucked up sense of humor. 

Their plan worked flawlessly, with a roar Billy punched his way through the head of the first demodog at their door. The next one was deflected by Tommy and the baking sheet he’d found in the teacher’s lounge, making it easy prey for Steve and his nailbat to pick off. Eddie and his spear shredded through the demodog that leapt at him, and Billy crushed it’s head with his foot for good measure.

They were out, and they were moving, tossing or killing anything that came their way. There were dozens of the damn things, but they were making progress.

Until Tommy tripped.

Steve saw it in slow motion, his heart seizing up in his chest as he heard the yelp, saw the creature with it’s teeth around Tommy’s ankle. He was struggling against his own demodog, the thing was bigger than the rest had been and even with Billy’s help it refused to die easy. 

There was no way he’d be able to reach him before they did.

“Tommy!” He screamed through gritted teeth.

Tommy’s wide eyes found his and Steve heart tore itself in half as he smiled at him. Tommy wasn’t the brave in the face of danger type, he wasn’t trying to reassure Steve. He smiled like that when he was scared and nervous and didn’t know what else to do. He’d done it on the first day of kindergarten and the first day of highschool and Steve wanted to throw up at the sight of it now.

But then a leg was blocking his view, a black jean clad leg.

“Get the fuck up, Hoops, if you die like this they’re gonna think I killed you and I’ve outgrown my whole ‘wanted for a murder I didn’t commit’ phase.” Eddie drove his spear into the the demodog on Tommy’s leg, holding his shield up to keep the next one back.

Tommy looked up at Eddie like he’d seen an angel, almost immediately scrambling to his feet, only to fall back down with a curse.

“Can’t!” He hissed.

Steve slammed his bat into the demodog he and Billy were fighting, half paying attention to it, half to Eddie and Tommy. He knew better, he really did, but his instinct to protect overrode his common sense as it so often did.

“Duck!” Billy shouted, catching Steve’e ear but not his attention.

Steve did not in fact duck, catching the overgrown demodog’s back leg straight to the dome. He briefly had the thought that it wasn’t really a true Hawkins Adventure until he’d gotten some sort of head injury.

The thought immediately rolled into getting the hell out of the way as Billy snagged his nailbat from him and swung for the fences. 

The smart move would have been giving it to him in the first place, as the creature’s head went sailing down the hall as if it hadn’t just been attached to a living creature. 

“Head in the game pretty boy.” Billy pulled Steve to his feet, “Nobody dies today means you too.”

If he’d known Billy any better he would have sworn the tightness around the edges of his eyes was concern. But to the best of his knowledge, Billy tolerated him out of necessity the same way he tolerated most things. 

“Can’t have me bringing down the mood.” Steve agreed, noticing that Billy’s hand was still lingering on his forearm where he’d picked him up.

Billy noticed at the same time he did, pulling away almost as though burned.

“I’m not explaining to any of those kids that you bit it.” Billy shook his head, “Easier just to keep you alive.”

While not the warmest declaration of care Steve had ever heard, it was something at least to show that Billy Hargrove had a heart in there after all. He would probably have given him more shit, if they hadn’t been needed elsewhere.

So instead he nodded and turned back to where Eddie was keeping a smaller and smaller perimeter around he and Tommy.

“Them too.” Steve rushed towards them.

“Them too.” Billy agreed.

                                                        *

“You know, if you wanted me to carry you, you could have just asked.” Billy teased as he carried Tommy down the broken rib cage of Hawkins’ main road.

Tommy had his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Billy bridal carried him as though he weighed nothing. His ankle was in pretty bad shape, would need stitches at the very least, but they’d wrapped it as best they could using the flannel Eddie had been wearing. It wouldn’t solve much, but it would hold until they got somewhere safe and that was all they needed.

“I’m not a chick, Hargrove, I’m not looking for some big strong man to save me.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, you telling me this beefcake doesn’t have you swooning at all?” Eddie chimed in, grinning like a loon, “All the work of saving our asses, and not even a flutter?”

Tommy rolled his eyes so hard Steve’s own did the same instinctively. 

“You saved me.” Tommy asserted. “Shouldn’t you be pimping yourself out here?

“You’re right! I was the daring knight in shinning armour for this rescue, I should get the damsel! How about it Hagan, you free tonight?” 

“Do you ever stop yapping, Munson?” Billy’s slow, heavy glare rested on him.

Eddie kept smiling like he couldn’t feel it at all, “Nope!” 

“Steve, put a muzzle on your pet freak, would ya?” Tommy groaned, the pain making him more irritable than was already native to him.

Steve hardly heard the conversation, his focus moored on the walkie talkie he’d just barely managed to scoop up on their way out of the school. He’d dropped it on the way in, and it looked like it had been stepped on, but the damage was mostly cosmetic. It was still receiving a signal, he just had to hold it in just the right position.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m nobody’s pet.” Eddie pouted, “Pets take a certain amount of love and patience and feeding and no one has shown me any of that, so I’m staying feral thank you very much.”

“I’m showing you patience, I’m showing you a lot of patience.” Billy grumbled.

Eddie’s grin was back just like that, “You gonna love me and feed me too, cause I’m not really opposed--”

“Guys, shut up.” Steve hissed, the walkie cutting in on the corner of a conversation.

“--eam. Repeat Team Macho Man, do you read?”

“Yes!” Steve almost shouted into the receiver, “We read, we’re here!”

It sounded like Dustin on the other end, which immediately waylaid one of Steve’s biggest fears.

“Oh thank-- okay guys so the plan changed. Find somewhere to hole up for the night and we’ll regroup in the morning.”

It was as good a plan as any, and honestly at this point with how far South their original plan had gone, he was sure they needed the time to work on a new attack plan. 

“Rodger that, any injuries on your side?” Steve asked, knowing Dustin would hear the underlying question that he couldn’t bare to ask.

“A couple, but nothing life threatening. You?”

“One,” Steve said until Eddie nudged him and he remembered his own bloody head wound, “Er, two, but nothing life threatening here either.”

“Good.” Dustin sounded as relieved as Steve felt, “Then get your asses somewhere safe. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning.”

Steve took a deep breath and let the knowledge that his friends were alright soothe the remnants of anxiety clustered in his chest. They were alright, they were all alright. 

“Okay, now that Mama Bear is soothed, where are we going?” Billy caved in the moment of peace, “I’m not carrying Hagan all over the town so it better be near by.”

“Thought you were enjoying carrying me, Hargrove.” Tommy smirked.

“Never said that.”

“Didn’t have to.” Tommy grinned salaciously.

Steve watched Billy visibly think about dropping him and decide against it. 

“Keep talking shit and I give you to Munson.” 

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t carry you either.” Eddie made a face, “Pretty sure you’d end up in the creek. You could swim next to us, like our own personal Hasselhoff. Hey, you guys think demofish are a thing yet?”

Steve winced, picturing all manner of deep sea fish he’d learned about in high school. Along with his already tumultuous relationship with water, the visual had his hands going clammy.

“No one is tossing anyone into anything cause Hagan is gonna be a gentleman, isn’t that right?” Billy asked with that menacing edge he seemed to be able to produce on the fly. Coming out of Steve that same sentence would have sounded like a nagging mother. 

Sometimes he envied Billy his role in their group. Just a little.

“I can’t promise anything.” Tommy muttered, “But I’m trying.”

That seemed to soften Billy a little, though only by fractions. He wasn’t the type to drop his guard all the way for pretty much anything. But in the middle of the multidimensional warzone Hawkins had become, one would be more likely to draw blood from a stone.

“‘Preciated.” Billy murmured in response, catching Tommy’s attention, “Now where in the fuck are we going?”

“How about Mel’s?” Steve suggested.

“The convenience store off main?” Eddie asked, poking his head around Tommy and Billy so he could see Steve.

“Yeah. It’s got bars on the windows, a security door, food, drinks--”

“Cigarettes.” Billy added, nodding along as thought his alone made the place viable.

“And booze.” Tommy pointed out, “I could use a shot. And so could this fucking bite, it itches.” 

“Might have to cut it off.” Billy said stoically, his poker face cracking at the look of sheer offense Tommy shot at him.

“No the fuck we will not.” 

“Seems like a good place to set up shop.” Eddie drummed the tip of his spear on his chin, full body wincing as he realized what he’d just done.

“Never been so happy about the idea of a wetnap bath.” Steve winced in sympathy for Eddie as he wretched.

Billy laughed so hard he almost dropped Tommy.

                                                            *

They made it to the convenience store with relative ease. Sure they had to fight a creature they had no name for to get inside, sure Tommy had puked when they realized the piece of meat Billy threw to distract it had been someone’s leg, but all told, it went better than Steve had thought it would.

Now they were barricaded inside, with Steve and Eddie rounding up ‘dinner’ while Billy tended Tommy’s wound.

“Never would have clocked you for a nurse, Hargrove.” Tommy said through his teeth as Billy dabbed blood away from the bite on his ankle with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“You’ve never talked to me before today for more than five minutes.” Billy muttered, pressing the whiskey and water soaked rag delicately against the outer edges of the wound.

Tommy groaned, his head tilting back as he tried to breathe past the sting of it. Billy handed him the bottle of liquor without looking. 

“Fuck, thanks.” Tommy spun the top off with one move, a practiced flourish that he’d done a hundred times as a party trick.

“Mmmhmm. It’s gonna need stitches, but you’re lucky.” Billy pinched the side of Tommy’s foot, all but ignoring the indignant ‘OW!’ the action produced, “Doesn’t look like it fucked up any nerves or tendons or shit. Hit the bone though, that’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Steve had seen Billy drop into this a couple times before. But the vertigo that had hit him the first time Billy helped him close up his wounds rather than causing them was still unmatched. Out of all of them, Billy was undoubtedly the closest thing they had to a field medic. 

“Thank you, doctor Hargrove.” Steve smiled a little at Billy, not entirely surprised when the ghost of a smile met him back.

He crouched down and let his bounty sprawl out in the space beside them. He’d grabbed as many things that were as close to actual foods as he could find. Canned chili, Vienna sausages, spam, even canned veggies. Eddie, of course, had gone the opposite route and rounded up as much junk food as his arms could carry.

“There was a generator when I poked my head in the back,” Eddie popped back up as soon as he set down his haul, “It’s getting dark and as much as I’d love to have a romantic candle lit dinner with you guys, that’s more of a third date kind of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure this counts as a third date,” Steve glanced over at Eddie, “If we’re going by Upside Down related bullshit.”

“We’re on our third, Sunshine and Flash Thomson are still new. Ish.” 

“Why does he get a comic book character and I get ‘Sunshine’?” Billy groused, “And this isn’t a date, Munson.”

Eddie sauntered on towards the back, “Why not? The adrenaline, the bonding, the fear of fucking it all up, it’s got the right vibes.”

“You haven’t been on a single date have you?” Tommy asked at the same time Billy said, “Because I have higher fucking standards for my dates.”

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders vaguely and disappeared around the corner into the back.

“God he’s fucking weird.” Tommy muttered.

“He grows on you.” Steve shrugged.

“Like mold.” Billy agreed.

                                                          *

Ultimately, Eddie did get the generator running, and they managed to heat up their food on the little radiator Billy found tucked behind the counter. Steve never would have thought of that, even presented with the same options, wouldn’t have managed to heat the food as evenly as Eddie and Billy had even if he did.

Now their bellies were full, and they were passing around a bottle of raspberry vodka that Billy had deemed ‘too sugary’ to clean Tommy’s wound with.

“So,” Tommy interrupted the mostly companionable silence they’d been sharing for the last few minutes, “You guys have been stuck hiding out from monsters before, what’s traditional to pass the time?”

Steve breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes while Billy took the bottle from Tommy to down another swig.

“Usually we take watches, but nothing followed us in here. Probably still should.” Steve answered.

“Okay, should have been more specific, what do you do that isn’t boring as all fuck?”

“In my experience, usually the paralyzing bone deep fear keeps it from being too boring.” Eddie shrugged, “But this is a pretty nice set up we’ve got going, spoiled punk like you could call it boring.”

Tommy threw an M&M at him, which Eddie caught in his mouth. Billy applauded and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer offense on Tommy’s face yet again.

“I was going to ask if anyone wanted to play a drinking game like a normal bunch of dudes but I should have fucking known better.” 

“Hey you’re not normal anymore either.” Eddie argued from around his misbegotten treat, “When that bite scars, you’re not gonna be able to just explain it. That puts you right at the weirdo table with the rest of us.”

A look passed over Tommy’s face a little too fast for Steve to catch, “You… all have scars?”

Billy grunted but Tommy’s eyes were on Steve. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, “Plenty.”

Eddie lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the scars the demobats had left him. They hadn’t healed smoothly, the skin there largely being grafted from his back, which while also having suffered damage, wasn’t as gnarly to look at as his sides were. Eddie didn’t seem too put out, though Steve knew him well enough to know how well he could lock down his insecurities. 

“Stevie’s got matching ones, but these are from like six months ago.” Eddie let his shirt back down, “Bats.”

Tommy looked a little queasy, still hadn’t blinked since Eddie had lifted up his shirt.

“Didn’t get bats. Liquid people monster.” Billy’s voice was tight with emotion he would sooner die than show in front anyone else, “Fucked me up pretty bad.”

That was an understatement if Steve had ever heard one. Billy had been in critical condition for three weeks, and then spent the next eight months recovering. They still didn’t know everything going on with him, other than that in addition to super strength, his blood was now basically battery acid. 

“No scars?” Tommy asked, though his voice was much softer than Steve was accustomed to hearing it.

Billy sighed, sitting up to strip off his top. He only hesitated a moment before he was pulling it up and off of himself.

In the center of his chest was a dent with tightly stretched pink skin across it. The skin was almost shiny and so thin when he breathed Steve could easily see the bones through it. On either of his sides, the skin was similar to Eddie’s though the wounds were single points rather than jagged collectives. Some of the musculature on his left side was also concave, missing where it hadn’t been able to heal properly. 

Steve heard Tommy’s intake of breath, knew he was comparing what he saw with what he knew Billy had looked like before. To Steve surprise he wasn’t recoiling in horror, wasn’t spewing venom to cover for the fear it must have seeded in him.

“Well shit.” He whispered, “Should I ask what the other guy looks like?”

Billy laughed, softly at first before it seemed to take root and he couldn’t stop. He tilted over, laughing so hard tears formed at the corners of his eyes. 

“What?” Tommy asked, when it was clear Billy wouldn’t be able to answer him, “I know I’m a riot but I’m pretty sure I’m not that funny.”

“The other guy was a four-story tall melted people monster that got taken out by a little girl and an assload of fireworks.” Steve explained, “Billy looks way better than it did.”

“Hey Munson, you want to pass me back that bottle?” Tommy shuddered.

“Yeah, take a double man.”

[rellik24]

Adventures of Ky

Part 1

9/23/23

CW: descriptions of violence, gore (pls let me know if I missed any)

HS-80534 "Patterson, Kylar" nicknamed "Ky"

Reason for imprisonment: Assault; Theft; Break and entering; murder of innocent species; Unjustified Assault

Threat level: 9/10

"Let's me go you asshole!" Ky growled as the aliens threw him into his cell. Ky stumbled a little bit before regaining his balance. He'd usually be stronger but the aliens knew he'd be weak if they didn't feed him properly. They knew how to handle humans, which didn't help Ky at all.

They had put a muzzle on Ky to keep him from biting, and killing any of the guards or crew that operated the prison. They didn't take very many other measures to ensure their safety though which was good. The whole 'being angry with the guards' was kind of a ruse so he could escape. Earlier that day, during feeding time, Ky had hidden a metal butter knife in his clothes before attacking another prisoner with a fork. Luckily, the guards took the fork away from him and immediately took him to his cell. He wouldn't get and free time outside but he was okay with that. He had a plan to escape.

The prison was in the middle of a forest on some alien planet where nobody could supposedly survive. The Universal Council must have thought that it was a good place to put a prison so that anyone who escapes would die anyway. Ky planned an escape but he didn't plan to die when he got out.

Kylar yelled profanities at the guards as they walked away to jeep up his 'defiant humans act until they were out of his sight. The cell he was in was made out of something similar to concrete and he just so happened to have a window with metal bars. The aliens who built this prison must have taken inspiration from Earth prisons because it was almost identical.

Ky stood atop his bed and started chipping away at the concrete around the bars on the window. If he could get them loose, the guards wouldn't notice if they were loose. The window was above everyone's heads so nobody could reach it without standing on something.

After about 45 minutes of chipping the concrete, he heard the cell block door buzz open. He quickly hid the knife and laid down on his bed as if he'd been there the whole time. He made little progress in the concrete but it was better than nothing. He'd have to keep working at it in order to escape.

It had been a week now and Ky made barely any progress. He didn't have much time to dig at the bars because of patrols and noise and a few other things bit he wasn't giving up. He wasn't given any books or anything so he had nothing to do whenever he was in his cell alone.

There had been a few other prisoners who had tried to become friends with him but he just bared his teeth and growled at them. He knew how to look threatening and he knew he could probably kill anyone who tried to fight him. The other prisoner usually backed off when they realized that Ky was hostile towards them.

He would constantly try to intimidate the guards too but they were trained to be unaffected by most of his attempts.

Ky was about to give up digging for the day when he felt the metal bar pull away from the concrete. He slowly and quietly pulled it out of the window and looked at it in awe. He hadn't expected to actually get it out without being caught but here he was.

He quietly put it back where it was so the guards wouldn't catch onto what he was doing. All he needed now was a plan to survive the outside world. If he couldn't survive in the forest on the planet, he'd have to fine a ship or something to get out.

After gathering his strength and getting a new knife, Ky pried the bar from the window and squeezed his body through it. He probably wouldn't have fit if he was being fed properly. He had lost a lot of weight since getting in the prison.

He looked below and seen a grass field that was about 20ft below his window. He jumped down from the window and rolled upon landing to absorb the shock of landing. Immediately, he turned around to see if there were any alarms going off inside the prison. There weren't so he assumed he was in the clear.

He cut the straps of the muzzle with his knife and threw it on the ground before running into the forest. He didn't know where he was going but he just had to get far away so nobody would find him.

As he was running, he started to see a light from a fire. He slowly approached and stayed as quiet as he possibly could. He managed to see a few different aliens all sitting around the fire. They all looked very predatory with varying lengths of claws and teeth. They all had their own attributes that would be classified as a threat.

"I can hear you. You might as well come out before we all attack." One of them said, standing up and facing the direction Ky was in.

Ky came out of his hiding spot with his hand up to show he was no threat to them. He didn't say anything and just walked into the light so they could see him better.

The aliens didn't let their guard down or even move a muscle. "You're a human? What's a human doing way out here?" The one asked.

"I escaped the prison. Was gonna survive on my own but I'll help you if you can help me." Ky explained to them and offered his help if he could join their little group.

The alien chuckled at the offer. "What could you possibly offer us?" It asked.

"I can hunt for you. If you let me travel with you, then I can help you hunt and I can help protect you." Ky said, lowering his hands.

"How could you possibly protect us? You're a human. You have no teeth or claws or anything to kill."

Ky was about to explain himself when he heard some prison guards headed their way and seen the lights from some flashlights.

The alien quickly looked at the guards and then glared back at Ky. "You lead them right to us. What's wrong with you!" It growled angrily at Ky.

Ky quickly came up with a plan. It wasn't the best or safest plan but it would work. He looked back at the alien "You distract them and keep their attention and let me handle the rest." He quickly instructed before taking off into the dark forest.

The guards hearing wasn't very good so he didn't have to be too quiet but still had to be careful and avoid the lights.

Ky hid behind a few trees until he heard the guards talking to the group around the fire. The guards were now in the light of the fire and Ky could see that they have very few weapons of their own. They didn't have any guns or anything that could be used from a distance.

(Violence and gore starts here btw. Nect red text marks end of it)

This would be perfect. Ky climbed one of the trees near by until he was nearly right above the guards. He then jumped down and tried to slice one of the guards throats. It's skin must have been some kind of armor because his knife did nothing to the guard. Ky knew he had to find a weak spot and went for the most obvious one. The eye. Ky stabbed his knife as far as he could into the guards eye. His eye popped and the blue blood was spurting out and leaking down its face.

The other two guards had pulled out their batons and were getting ready to hit Ky. One managed to hit Ky on his back which got his attention on the second guard. It was an alien that was very cat-like but it had hands instead of paws. It had the face, ears and fur of a cat but that was where the similarities ended.

Ky had the second guard pinned to the ground when an idea popped in his head. He looked at the third guard. "Go back to the prison. Tell them that we want a ship out of here or we'll kill this one. Well be there tomorrow morning and youd better have an answer for us or ill kill all of you." He threatened.

The third guard looked at Ky with a horrified expression. It just nodded its head and ran away back to the prison. Ky got up and pulled the cat like guard up with him. He held the guards arms behind his back so he couldn't move his arms.

Ky walked the guard into the alien's little camp they'd set up and threw the guard to the ground before getting on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

The other aliens of the group looked at Ky, concerned. The one who confronted him earlier touched Ky's shoulder. "I thought you said we weren't killing that one yet?" It asked.

The guard was struggling but was slowly slowing down as his body slowly lost oxygen. "I'm not killing him. If his body goes without breathing for long enough, it should just knock him out and not kill him." Ky explained.

Slowly, the guard stopped struggling until his entire body went limp. Ky put his hand near his nose to feel his breath to make sure he was still alive.

He then looked at the aliens "you got any rope?" Ky asked so he could tie up the guard.

The aliens gave Ky to rope without a word. They were all too afraid to ask what just happened. They were scared of just how feral the human could be and how easily he could just snap out of it.

(Violence and gore ends here. You didnt miss anything important. Just Ky taking out the guards and sending one back and keeping a hostage)

After tying up the guard, Ky stood up and held his back where the guard had hit him earlier. "Fuck that hurts. That's gonna be a bitch while it heals." He complained to nobody in particular.

"So can I join your little group and we can all leave this shit hole of a planet or am I leaving this place alone tomorrow?" Ky asked, already almost certain of the answer.

The other aliens looks skeptical "you can stay as long as you don't attack any of us." One said after having a silent conversation with a few of the others.

"Great. I don't plan to attack any of you unless you betrayed me or something." Ky said and smiled at them.

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #13: Butte

#FFxivWrite2024

"I swear to Halone, there is absolutely no way I am climbing that cliff..." For starters, the Knight was adorned in full plate, which would make climbing such a steep rock-face neigh impossible. "Why did we not just use the Griffins?" His complaints continued, but they fell on deaf ears as his Captain looked around for somewhere to begin the ascent.

Frustration crossed his pale features and Tsirae offered a displeased huff, his gaze shifting from the rock to Roland with trepidation. "Now where is the fun in that?" The eager Captain would respond, glancing over with jovial blue eyes, utterly unfazed by the daunting task ahead of them. "Plus the ledge is to small for the griffin to land safely, and with the winds I am not going to jump from it's back. We know the amulet is up there, we just need to get it and go home." Taking out some tools, ice picks and rope, Roland was to stubborn to change his mind and with a defeated huff Tsirae walked over to assist him.

"You're absolutely sure the nest is there, and the bird definitely took the amulet?" It seemed like an odd task they had be assigned, but stranger things have happened in the last few years. "Please be careful... Your wife will come for me if you get injured, and I do not want to be at the end of her spear." Tsirae complained, watching his Captain start to climb, digging the picks into the icy face of the cliff.

A laugh was all he got in response from the blonde Elezen, watching the man move slowly up towards the ledge. It wasn't unreachable, but the higher the man went, the more Tsirae became concerned for his safety. Left on the ground, he would keep an eye out for any creature that may be to curious at the pair of Knights, it was not a fun task, but far more appealing than scaling a cliff. Minutes passed and he would occasionally glance up to see the other man's progress, mildly surprised to see Roland making good time and seemingly with few struggles, if any.

Then the sounds of distress, though not from his Captain, but from the angry animal whose nest they were encroaching on. It's angry screeches were matched with some choice words from Roland as he tried to fend off the enraged vulture while also reaching into the crevasse where a scraggly nest was made, a slight sheen of gold catching his eye. There was the item they needed.

Of course Tsirae wanted to help, but from where he stood there was little he could do without risking injury to his commanding Knight, and that was equally not a good outcome. Instead the Elezen's attention was drawn to another beast that appeared drawn by the squawking bird. It was time for him to complete his task.

Dispatching the creature with ease, Tsirae had returned his attention to the now slightly more distressed Knight. "Need help?" He called up, a mix of concern and amusement at the harassing vulture and his poor friend. "Would now be a good time for the Griffins?" Just rubbing a little salt in there for good measure. Roland called back, but it was overshadowed by the shrieking avian that was determined to recover the stolen shiny from its nest.

"YES NOW!" Roland's voice finally carried down to Tsirae, and with a laugh he nodded, bringing his fingers up to his lips and whistling a high pitched sound. Seconds passed before a different, louder shriek cascaded towards them. Two Griffins, one dark grey and the other a stunning ivory, approached at full speed from the mountain's base where they had been left to rest. "Brigitte, my sweet." Tsirae would greet his long-time companion with a gentle stroke of her feathers.

The second Griffin, Fleur, would launch herself up, startling the vulture, as she grasped her master's armor in her talons, pulling him completely off the cliff and carrying him down, dropping the Elezen on the grass with ease. The closest to a safe landing he would get. Sitting alongst the dirt and grass Roland simply sighed, fully aware he should have taken his subordinate's advice, but to stubborn to admit it.

"So... Griffins were a good idea yes?" Tsirae extended a hand, pulling the Captain to his feet so he could brush off the dirt, enjoying a small laugh at the elder Elezen's expense. "You got the necklace right?" Considering all this effort was for that very reason, he had hoped Roland didn't drop it or lose it back to the vulture.

A less than amused expression met him, and Tsirae couldn't help but grin as if he had won some imaginary battle.

"Yes... Lets go home... I need to bath..." Roland huffed and tried to fix his long hair into some semblance of the ponytail it had been in before.

Taking one last little dig at his best friend, Tsirae turned to look at the two Griffins waiting nearby. "So are we flying, or would you rather walk home as well?" The comment would receive an annoyed look, but it quickly turned to a smile. "I'm going to bury you in the snow when we get back and leave you to Shiva." The Captain teased as they mounted up and prepared to head home.

"And yes... It was a good idea." Despite having to swallow his pride a little, Roland was grateful for his childhood friend and knew when to humble himself. "Lets head back before my wife kills us both..."

[kuzann]

Artistic Merit, Chapter 1

I realized that the fic would run a bit smoother if we saw the interaction that made Gepard hate on his own art. Sorry about this being out of order. Second chapter here! Also found on Ao3.

Chapter 1: A Father's Words

Tattered clouds drifted past the imposing bulk of Qlipoth Fort as Gepard briefly lifted his eyes to the sky. There would be no snow today, and so far the weather had followed the forecast. He fidgeted with a sleeve, feeling underdressed in a dark blue turtleneck and gray slacks even so; his armor felt like a second skin with how often he wore it, and he felt exposed to more than just the elements without it. His sturdy black boots, though lighter than his usual uniform pair, at least gave him some comfort in that department.

“Come now, don’t dawdle,” Gepard’s father said with a glance back at his son. People always told Gepard that he took after his father, but beyond the obvious blonde hair and blue eyes he couldn’t see it. His father always had a more rugged appearance about him—despite having retired to the ranks of the Architects before Gepard reached his teen years—and the beard certainly didn’t help any resemblance. The only similarity Gepard could spot when he looked in the mirror and recalled his father’s features were the shape of the eyes.

Gepard picked up the pace, walking just behind his father. Things had been cordial so far. Even so, the subtle sick feeling in his stomach was hard to ignore. He still tried to keep contact despite all their differences. Still hoped that perhaps some progress could be made, that he could forge a stronger bond and even get his father’s views to soften on certain matters. Such as Serval’s ostracization from the family. A small part of him noted that these efforts were likely in vain, but the hope was often loud enough to drown that voice out.

And so when his father had suggested that they visit an old favorite cafe, Gepard had accepted and made it the focus of his next day off. They strolled through the Commerce District, a spoke of Belobog just to the west of the Administrative District and pointing toward the Snow Plains, with only a few bone-dry exchanges to fill the air between them. Questions about work, health, the usual subjects of polite concern. Nothing arduous, and certainly nothing inflammatory.

“What in the world...” Gepard’s father stopped in front of a wall strewn with notices, his attention focused on a wanted poster. Gepard immediately recognized it as his own work, the one he’d made for March 7th, but any explanation he had to offer was cut off by his father’s remark. “What, are they hiring toddlers to make wanted posters now?” he said, his lip curled with disgust as he glared at the poster.

Shame ran icy lances through Gepard’s chest. He froze, unsure of how to answer, and immediately worried that his father might catch on to the truth if he didn’t offer some explanation.

His father turned sharp, icy blue eyes on Gepard before he could think of anything. “Were you aware of this, Gepard?” He gestured at the wanted poster as if it were some offensive drawing someone had scrawled on the wall of his home.

“They were supposed to be taken down,” Gepard replied, words struggling against the tension that squeezed his throat. At once his suspicions about the compliments he’d received before crystallized; they were only made to spare his feelings, rather than true measures of his work’s merit. The awkwardness of the Trailblazer’s comment certainly made sense now. They didn’t really mean it. He stepped past his father and tore the poster down with one hand, leaving only a stray corner stuck to the wall.

“It seems the Guard has gotten sloppy with cleaning up after itself, then,” his father muttered as Gepard crumpled the poster up.

They continued on. Gepard deposited the wad of paper into the first trashcan they came across. Neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.

Gepard’s stomach dropped as he spotted a bulletin board ahead, and another one of his posters slapped on it. This was the one he’d made for Sampo, a bit less hastily-drawn than the others, but he was sure his father would have similar remarks for it all the same.

“More of them?” Gepard’s father paused briefly to look at the poster, as unimpressed as he’d been upon seeing the first. “Just how many of these awful things were posted? Such ugly things shouldn’t be allowed to exist in our city.”

Gepard kept his eyes on the pavement as he tore this one down as well. It too met its final end at the bottom of the nearest trash can.

There were, thankfully, no more posters to be found between there and the cafe. Gepard was quiet throughout, giving brief responses to anything his father said, worried that he might give himself away as the true culprit if he said too much. He couldn’t stop thinking about the false compliments he’d received before, of how their authors must’ve been laughing at or pitying him once he wasn’t around to hear. He’d been a fool to believe they were telling the truth.

“What’s the matter?” his father said once they were seated at the cafe, their coffees and pastries laid out before them.

The question snapped Gepard back to the present, and he straightened in his seat. “It’s nothing—”

“I’m aware that managing both the front line and the city was difficult during that little upheaval, but that’s no excuse for growing lax now that it’s over.”

“Yes, father,” Gepard said meekly as he stared down at the table. “I’ll make sure that city matters are taken care of.”

[lil-tachyon]

A New Year's Eve Tradition: One drawing from each month of the year

Below the break: the other New Year's Tradition where I go over my art goals from last year and reorient myself for the new one.

Another big year. Mixed results regarding my plans from last year.

Successes/Positives:

-Been doing art full-time for a full year now and haven't even come close to running out of paid work to do. Haven't had a slow week since I started so it's encouraging to know people are still interested in my drawings and willing to pay for them. Hopefully an indication that this is still a viable career path for me.

-Got a website and a newsletter up and running which turned out to be a pretty good investment of time what with the mess that twitter has become and how boring and unreliable instagram is.

Finished two comics this year! One for me, one for Spacewalk Comics, publisher of Holy West. Right now you can see them both on Patreon (and I'll throw in my book Coelum for good measure if you sign up). In total only ten pages, but comics have always daunted me so it feels good to finally have finished some. And I found that I actually really really like doing them, even more than I though that I would, so I want to build off that momentum in 2023.

-Got to meet and interact with so many great artists this year and that's always a pleasure.

Failures/Negatives:

-I was going pretty strong with teaching myself Blender for the first couple months and then completely dropped it some time in spring and have hardly touched it since.

-Likewise with some other experiments in painting and different media- was inconsistent in practicing them and became even less consistent as the year progressed.

-Aside from the two short comics, I barely worked on any big personal projects.

-Although I finished all my commissions on time I fell behind on some unpaid but important collaborative work that I still have yet to catch up on.

-In general, as the year progressed I found myself spending all my time trying to deliver commissions as quickly as possible at the expense of investing in my own artistic development or in completing any major works of my own.

-Although I haven't run out of paid work to do, I'm still struggling to bring in enough money to even make minimum wage and I'm only able to continue drawing thanks to the hard work and patience of my wife and I don't want all that pressure on her.

-In general, feel like I haven't made significant progress towards any long-term goal for the last half-year

-My poor musical instruments have hardly been touched this year :,(

-Lots of non-art things I wanted to do that I didn't even get close to

Goals for 2023:

-Get organized and stay organized. I do better when I divide my day into chunks and I lost track of that recently. Get back into that habit. Try to start each morning by going over goals for the day.

-Found that larger illustration commissions eat up a ton of my time and even with price increases have only recently started to bring in a decent amount of money. Will probably prioritize smaller commissions, be more strict about charging for revisions, and in general try to allocate more time for personal projects rather than spending weeks on other peoples' and not getting paid a lot.

-Spend more time drawing away from a computer. I feel like being in front of a screen with internet access all day for the last couple years has really eviscerated my attention span. I'm constantly pulling up new tabs of stuff to listen to or reference to look at it. I need to be able to focus. Probably draw some stuff that I can see around my room in the morning before even turning computer on.

-Finished up undisclosed, ongoing collaborative projects

-Work on a book. Got two ideas that I think are achievable, should narrow in on one by the end of January.

-Gonna try to make some woodblock prints this year. I got a printmaking kit for Christmas. We'll see how it goes. Whatever happens I expect to have fun with it :)

-Be more consistent about assessing and re-assessing goals. Try at the end of the week and end of the month. I think neglecting to do this is what got me so off-track this year

-Keep desk clean, room organzied

-Do more artist interviews. If you're reading this and have an idea for someone I should interview or we're mutuals and I haven't asked you yet, get at me.

Misc:

-Get sewing machine back in working order, sew some stuff. Need a case for my banjo, could try that...

-Read more books

-Spend more time outside

-Take train into city, draw at museums

-Be realistic about whether art is a viable career. Wouldn't kill me to go back into engineering and I do miss some aspects of it sometimes. The trick would be either to find a STEM job I actually enjoy or a low-stress part-time job...

Conclusions:

Thanks for sticking around, you guys are the best. No matter what happens I'll keep drawing this year and the next and on and on until my hands don't work anymore or I die. Happy New Year. Peace out. Best of luck.

-Logan

[aamirastories]

Part 3

I'm putting these out quite regularly now as I have a lot of this already written, but will slow down now to give a chance to catch up for those following along!

The Hikers

March 10th, 2023

My legs were on fire. I looked up. When my father said this was going to be a short climb to the top, I would love to know what scale of measurement we’d used. 

I looked down. Sure, we’d come a long way. Looking up again though, the top seemingly faded seamlessly into the clouds.

“Come on! We’re almost there!”, my father said.

Now I knew what deja-vu was. It was hearing that every hundred or so metres. My father was an ex-Navy seal – tall, rugged with short greying hair. Our bond grew after my mother passed away and whilst I struggled growing up, Dad had really been working on his bond with me and this hike was an example of that. Years of demanding special ops missions and training have left him tough, physically and mentally and even out of service many years, he still kept himself in great shape. I on the other hand was only just beginning to get used to this increased level of torture-come-training that he led me through weekly. I was skinny and was never comfortable with exercise, though I did always prefer exploring and Dad and I always had a bond through this. I however, was exhausted.

We continued climbing up the gradual slope, my legs burning with each step. I focused on regulating my breathing as I tracked our progress, counting over 500 laborious steps upward. The ground unexpectedly levelled off into a plateau still shrouded in mist, surprising me. Where was the peak?

“Almost there!” My dad called out ahead, striding vigorously towards the blanket of clouds. I hurried to catch up, confused. We'd hiked miles, the thin, cool air signalling high altitude.

As soon as I entered the fog, it enveloped me completely. The astonishing vista left behind vanished - there was only a haze of white. We wandered sightless amidst the swirling vapor; the mountain's peak shrouded. A surreal sensation came over me, as if floating in another realm high above earthly bounds. I focused on my father's broad back as my anchor point, shadowing his tireless gait through this bizarre, muffled limbo.

Just when unease began overwhelming me, the fog thinned. Crisp blue sky emerged above while sunlight dappled the rocks golden. Scrambling up boulders, I grasped a ledge, pulling myself to the summit on hands and knees, my heart racing and my lungs on fire, before standing up. I got a little lightheaded, but my father steadied me, as the weight of the rucksack on my back obeyed gravity and threatened to help me take the quick way back down the mountain. 

I looked around. The view was gorgeous. The sky was a rich blue with only a faint wisp of cloud on the horizon. There was a nice cool breeze which I appreciated as it helped to cool my face, sweat still pouring down it. I slowly turned, taking in the vista, careful not to lose footing again. 

In the distance. What was it? I called out to my father.

“Dad? What’s that?”

It took him a moment. I pointed in the direction, and he finally spotted it, as it grew closer.

“An aircraft maybe? Seems to be going quickly whatever it is.” he replied.

“The trail though, it’s not white, it’s grey, almost black.” I added, and focused on it more, shading my eyes with my hand placed over my eyebrows. It was hard to discern a particular shape of it although it did glint in the sun, so I could only surmise it was made of some kind of metal.

It was coming more quickly now, the front of it turning a more yellow orange, and suddenly my heart began to race again.

“It’s definitely not an aircraft” my dad said. He picked up his phone and zoomed into it, getting a closer look.

As it got so close, we felt we could almost make out the shape of it, trying to work out exactly what it was, it exploded. The sound hit us about 4 seconds later, a loud bang, this deafening peal accompanied by a blast of scorching wind that sent us both backwards.

“WOW!” My dad said as he looked at me.

Where the object had previously been, a blue cloud was hanging in the air, spreading and becoming fainter as it did, the wind beginning to carry it over our heads. We stared at it for a matter of minutes before it completely faded. I could swear, before my dad looked at me that the faintest smell of what I could only describe as coriander was in the air but dismissed it immediately. We breathed air that had been endlessly hot – I could still feel the residual heat on my face. As the smoke dispersed, the sky looked pale and empty again.

“Come on, let’s head back down again. I need to write this down before I forget and post these pictures to some friends.” my dad said and began to step cautiously down the steep slope. I looked back up, no sign of where the object had been, before turning again and following him down, my path tracing his.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“No homo,” says the boy, barely visible in the room’s fading light, as he cradles my foot in his palms. He is kneeling before me—this 6’2” JV basketball second stringer—as I sit on his bed, my feet hovering above the shag. His head is bent so that the swirl in his crown shows, the sweat in the follicles catching the autumn dusk through the window. Anything is possible, we think, with the body. But not always with language. “No homo,” he says again before wrapping the ace bandage once, twice, three times around my busted ankle, the phrase’s purpose now clear to me: a password, an incantation, a get-out-of-jail-free card, for touch. For two boys to come this close to each other in a realm ruled by the nebulous yet narrow laws of American masculinity, we needed magic.

No homo. The words free him to hold my foot with the care and gentleness of a nurse, for I had sprained my ankle half an hour earlier playing manhunt in the McIntosh orchard. We ran, our bodies silver in the quickening dark, teenagers playing at war.

The boy—let’s call him K—had helped me up, my arm slung across his shoulder as I limped toward his house, which sat just across the orchard. The war is still going on around us, the other boys’ voices breaking through the brambles, and the larger war, the one in Afghanistan (for it is 2005), amplified what was at stake in the outer world, beyond the feeble sunset of childhood.

No homo.

I look away, as if it isn’t an ankle, but roadkill, in his hands. I scan the room instead, the walls lined with baseball trophies catching the streetlight outside, which has just flickered on. Do I find him handsome? Yes. Does it matter? No.

“You’re really good at hiding,” he said to my foot, and though he meant at manhunt, he might as well have been talking about manhood. For isn’t that, too, a place I have hid both in and from at once?

*

I was never comfortable being male—being a he—because all my life being a man was inextricable from hegemonic masculinity. Everywhere I looked, he-ness was akin to an aggression that felt fraudulent in me—or worse, in the blue collar New England towns I grew up in, self-destructive. Masculinity, or what we have allowed it to be in America, is often realized through violence. Here, we celebrate our boys, who in turn celebrate one another, through the lexicon of conquest:

You killed it, buddy. Knock ‘em dead, big guy. You went into that game guns blazing. You crushed it at the talent show. It was a blow out. No, it was a massacre. My son’s a beast. He totally blew them away. He’s a lady killer. Did you bag her? Yeah, I fucked her brains out. That girl’s a grenade. I’d still bang her. I’d smash it. Let’s spit roast her. She’s the bomb. She’s blowing up. I’m dead serious.

To some extent, these are only metaphors, hyperbolic figures of speech—nothing else. But there are, to my mind, strong roots between these phrases and this country’s violent past. From the Founding Fathers to Manifest Destiny, America’s self-identity was fashioned out of the myth of the self-made revolutionary turned explorer and founder of a new, immaculate world of possible colonization. The avatar of the pioneer, the courageous and stoic seeker, ignores and erases the Native American genocide that made such a persona possible. The American paradox of hegemonic masculinity is also a paradox of identity. Because American life was founded on death, it had to make death a kind of praxis, it had to celebrate it. And because death was considered progress, its metaphors soon became the very measurement of life, of the growth of boys. You fucking killed it.

*

Years later, in another life, before giving a reading, the organizer asked me for my preferred pronouns. I never knew I had a choice. “He/him” I said, after a pause, suddenly unsure. But I felt a door had opened—if only slightly—and through it I had glimpsed a path I had not known existed. There was a way out.

But what if I don’t want to leave this room yet, but just make it bigger? Pronouns like they/them are, to my trans friends and family, a refuge—a destination secured through flight and self-agency. They/them pronouns allow an interface where one can quickly code oneself as nonnormative, in the hopes of bypassing the pain and awkwardness of explanation or the labor of legibility when simply existing can be exhausting. Would I, by changing pronouns, appropriate myself into a space others need in order to survive?

As a war refugee, I know how vital a foothold as small as a word can be. And since as a cis-presenting male, I don’t need to flee he-ness in order to be seen as myself, I will stay here. Can the walls of masculinity, set up so long ago through decrees of death and conquest, be breached, broken, recast—even healed? I am, in other words, invested in troubling he-ness. I want to complicate, expand, and change it by being inside it. And I am here for the very reasons why I feel, on bad days, I should leave it altogether: that I don’t recognize myself within its dominant ranks—but I believe it can grow to hold me better. Perhaps one day, masculinity might become so myriad, so malleable, it no longer needs a fixed border to recognize itself. It might not need to be itself at all. I wonder if that, too, is the queering of a space? I wonder if boys can ever bandage each other’s feet, in friendship, without a password—with only passage, between each other, without shame.

No homo, K reminds me, as he bites off the medical tape, rubs the length of my swollen ankle. He slides my white Vans back on—but not before carefully loosening the shoelaces, making room for my new damage. No homo, he had said. But all I heard, all I still hear, is No human. How can we not ask masculinity to change when, within it, we have become so wounded?

“You’ll be fine,” he says—with a tenderness so rare it felt stolen from a place far inside him. I reach for his hand.

He pulls me up, turns to leave the room. “Kill the lights,” he says over his shoulder.

And I kill them.

I make it so dark we could be anything, even more than what we were born into. We could be human.

Ocean Vuong’s debut novel is On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous. 

[iriswritesstuff]

Reimagining Masculinity by Ocean Vuong

“No homo,” says the boy, barely visible in the room’s fading light, as he cradles my foot in his palms. He is kneeling before me—this 6’2” JV basketball second stringer—as I sit on his bed, my feet hovering above the shag. His head is bent so that the swirl in his crown shows, the sweat in the follicles catching the autumn dusk through the window. Anything is possible, we think, with the body. But not always with language. “No homo,” he says again before wrapping the ace bandage once, twice, three times around my busted ankle, the phrase’s purpose now clear to me: a password, an incantation, a get-out-of-jail-free card, for touch. For two boys to come this close to each other in a realm ruled by the nebulous yet narrow laws of American masculinity, we needed magic.

No homo. The words free him to hold my foot with the care and gentleness of a nurse, for I had sprained my ankle half an hour earlier playing manhunt in the McIntosh orchard. We ran, our bodies silver in the quickening dark, teenagers playing at war.

The boy—let’s call him K—had helped me up, my arm slung across his shoulder as I limped toward his house, which sat just across the orchard. The war is still going on around us, the other boys’ voices breaking through the brambles, and the larger war, the one in Afghanistan (for it is 2005), amplified what was at stake in the outer world, beyond the feeble sunset of childhood.

No homo.

I look away, as if it isn’t an ankle, but roadkill, in his hands. I scan the room instead, the walls lined with baseball trophies catching the streetlight outside, which has just flickered on. Do I find him handsome? Yes. Does it matter? No.

“You’re really good at hiding,” he said to my foot, and though he meant at manhunt, he might as well have been talking about manhood. For isn’t that, too, a place I have hid both in and from at once?

*

I was never comfortable being male—being a he—because all my life being a man was inextricable from hegemonic masculinity. Everywhere I looked, he-ness was akin to an aggression that felt fraudulent in me—or worse, in the blue collar New England towns I grew up in, self-destructive. Masculinity, or what we have allowed it to be in America, is often realized through violence. Here, we celebrate our boys, who in turn celebrate one another, through the lexicon of conquest:

You killed it, buddy. Knock ‘em dead, big guy. You went into that game guns blazing. You crushed it at the talent show. It was a blow out. No, it was a massacre. My son’s a beast. He totally blew them away. He’s a lady killer. Did you bag her? Yeah, I fucked her brains out. That girl’s a grenade. I’d still bang her. I’d smash it. Let’s spit roast her. She’s the bomb. She’s blowing up. I’m dead serious.

To some extent, these are only metaphors, hyperbolic figures of speech—nothing else. But there are, to my mind, strong roots between these phrases and this country’s violent past. From the Founding Fathers to Manifest Destiny, America’s self-identity was fashioned out of the myth of the self-made revolutionary turned explorer and founder of a new, immaculate world of possible colonization. The avatar of the pioneer, the courageous and stoic seeker, ignores and erases the Native American genocide that made such a persona possible. The American paradox of hegemonic masculinity is also a paradox of identity. Because American life was founded on death, it had to make death a kind of praxis, it had to celebrate it. And because death was considered progress, its metaphors soon became the very measurement of life, of the growth of boys. You fucking killed it.

*

Years later, in another life, before giving a reading, the organizer asked me for my preferred pronouns. I never knew I had a choice. “He/him” I said, after a pause, suddenly unsure. But I felt a door had opened—if only slightly—and through it I had glimpsed a path I had not known existed. There was a way out.

But what if I don’t want to leave this room yet, but just make it bigger? Pronouns like they/them are, to my trans friends and family, a refuge—a destination secured through flight and self-agency. They/them pronouns allow an interface where one can quickly code oneself as nonnormative, in the hopes of bypassing the pain and awkwardness of explanation or the labor of legibility when simply existing can be exhausting. Would I, by changing pronouns, appropriate myself into a space others need in order to survive?

As a war refugee, I know how vital a foothold as small as a word can be. And since as a cis-presenting male, I don’t need to flee he-ness in order to be seen as myself, I will stay here. Can the walls of masculinity, set up so long ago through decrees of death and conquest, be breached, broken, recast—even healed? I am, in other words, invested in troubling he-ness. I want to complicate, expand, and change it by being inside it. And I am here for the very reasons why I feel, on bad days, I should leave it altogether: that I don’t recognize myself within its dominant ranks—but I believe it can grow to hold me better. Perhaps one day, masculinity might become so myriad, so malleable, it no longer needs a fixed border to recognize itself. It might not need to be itself at all. I wonder if that, too, is the queering of a space? I wonder if boys can ever bandage each other’s feet, in friendship, without a password—with only passage, between each other, without shame.

No homo, K reminds me, as he bites off the medical tape, rubs the length of my swollen ankle. He slides my white Vans back on—but not before carefully loosening the shoelaces, making room for my new damage. No homo, he had said. But all I heard, all I still hear, is No human. How can we not ask masculinity to change when, within it, we have become so wounded?

“You’ll be fine,” he says—with a tenderness so rare it felt stolen from a place far inside him. I reach for his hand.

He pulls me up, turns to leave the room. “Kill the lights,” he says over his shoulder.

And I kill them.

I make it so dark we could be anything, even more than what we were born into. We could be human.

[truckreincarnation]

Hole-Dwelling | Germain | 5.6 | RE: Luz, Shin, Harriet, Esmée

Take responsibility with your head held high.

That was what Germain had prepared for. To remain calm in the face of righteous anger. They could’ve managed it, they thought. It was harder to do, when met with quiet acceptance. With woe. With calm, measured distance. They should’ve been prepared, but disturbed their calm facade, like a rock being dropped into the surface of the lake. 

They sniffed nervously, trying to give Esmée a controlled nod - one that betrayed their own nervousness as their expression wavered slightly.

“I’ve g-got it from here. I’m s-sorry to have put so much on you. But… Thank you. F-For freeing S-Sakura, for… helping lead everyone h-here.”

They’ll have to talk to her after. About everything. 

A rock is flying at them. They raise a hand, catching it before even realizing what it was. Right. Cass’s stone. They returned Shin’s stare.

“I m-meant it all.”

They couldn’t help but look at Luz, seeing the hurt palpable in her face. It wasn’t one they’d seen before, from her, but one they could read the meaning of clear as day. Hurt. In the end, they could tell she’d come to trust them, and they’d… accepted that, despite their better judgment. Because they’d wanted to be trusted. Except trust was a delicate thing - like glass. And it would’ve taken much less than a betrayal of this scale to shatter it. This was several steps beyond that.

They wanted to say something. A part of them wanted to reach out, but… despite being right next to each other, there was a distance in her voice, her expression.  Now wasn’t the time. To do it now would be to just drag her down further, to stomp on the pieces of that shattered trust.

Harriet’s sobs went unacknowledged, for a similar reason. To try and pity them now, after everything, would be cruel.

Anything less than answers wouldn’t suffice.

They fingered their collar, looking at it with a certain bitterness, before letting the chain fall against their hollow chest. It used to be longer.

“I’ll s-spare you my personal history. What m-matters is… I was a s-servant of the royal family. Their attack dog. They t-tugged my chain and told me where to go, what to d-do, and I did it. And though I d-didn’t realize, that was a ch-choice.”

“I had a ch-choice, in the ritual, and I made the wrong one. Return to my imprisonment, or… lead this r-ritual. As you’ve g-gathered, my other domain is Freedom. To go b-back to that room… I n-nearly Lost myself the f-first time. I couldn’t do that a-again. S-So I signed away your lives to s-save my own. So that I wouldn’t be Lost. I’m truly sorry.”

They cracked a hollow, broken smile. “And then I g-got locked up here and p-progressed anyway. Hah.”

“After s-speaking with some of you… I… b-began to devise a plan to end the r-ritual. I c-could’ve at any time, but not without c-consequence. I believe Amber explained the s-situation to some of you. Calum p-planned to have the living Incarnates crested on the ritual’s end.”

“He wouldn’t have just sat idly by as his p-pet organized a mutiny - he’d have had Amber c-control everyone, if he was alive when the ritual ended. I may have d-doomed you to th-this hell, but I would not let you be s-subjected to that one. So I killed him first. I c-convinced him to invite us to the Last Haven, and would’ve k-killed him on arrival if not f-for that d-damned forcefield. With K-Kali’s help, I b-began searching for a way around it, and found one. Once he was no longer a th-threat, and b-before any of the other F-Five D-Dukes could take c-control… then it would be s-safe.”

Germain sighed, looking sulleny at the ones still alive. There were so few of them left. If they had gotten to the capital sooner. Germain hadn’t been helpless. As they worked their way towards the king, they watched everyone suffer knowing that they held the solution in their paws. 

“So… you were m-mistaken. I wouldn’t say killing C-Calum was an ‘apology.’ Rather, it was a p-prerequisite to what you all were owed - the end to this r-ritual.” Not making things up to them, not cleaning up the mess, but stopping it from getting any worse. “I th-think that about sums up the b-big parts.”

[wakaoujisenhime]

Aomine, kise, and Akashi with their s/o using their safe word? Maybe a short fic for each?

A/N: you got it (•̀ᴗ•́ )و …also please excuse my lack in creativity concerning the safeword, I sadly had no better and serious-sounding one than ‘RED’ .-. and I wrote this from a fem!reader’s perspective since I wasn’t sure which one you were referring to! Make sure to get back at me if you wanted it from a different perspective!! ♥️

Tags/Warnings: smut (18+!!) ✅ rough sex (in form of insufficient prep) ✅ ❚ overstimulation ✅ ❚ BDSM play ✅ shibari/bondage ✅ use of blindfold ✅ spanking ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Kise:

You knew that you should’ve insisted on talking with Kise.

The moment he came home you could already guess that something had happened and that his mood was down in the dumps. Usually, he would grin at you, hurriedly throw his shoes and jacket away, and then proceed to shower you with kisses, but today was different…

Today he’d come in and pretty much whispered that he was home, his movements were pretty sluggish, and even when you’d ran up to him the smile he gave you was barely noticeable. You were pretty quick in understanding that something had happened, so you immediately asked him about it, but he just shook his head in denial and reassured you that everything was alright and that you shouldn’t worry.

You decided to let it go for the time being and see how the evening played out, but unfortunately for you, there was no progress. Eventually, you decided to use your plan B: getting the truth out of him with sex.

He was one of those types that first needed some buttering up before they were ready to spill the beans and one of many ways - and the quickest - you succeeded in doing that was through bodily intimacy.

You had wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and started kissing his neck, whispering sweet nothings along his skin. It took a tad longer than usual for him to relax and indulge himself in your caresses, but things eventually took their course, and within a matter of minutes he’d taken over.

It felt amazingly good at first, the way his gentle hands roamed your body, exploring, experimenting, observing your reactions as he searched for your weak spots. The way your breath hitched when he began to play with your exposed nipples, paired with the slight tremble of your body as he let his fingers slide along your skin fired him up.

He’d soon gotten on top of you and while his mouth and tongue were busy pleasuring your chest’s sensitive buds, his fingers were preparing your lower body for what’s to follow…and that’s when it all went wrong.

Usually, he’d take his time to prepare you thoroughly with his fingers and his mouth. The way he enjoyed the slight thrashing of your body when he intentionally rubbed his fingertip against your g-spot never failed to make him smile proudly and your sweet moans when his tongue’s tip circled your puffy clit was the cherry on top. Next to making you feel good he also teased you occasionally. You like it like that, right? Hm? Is it here (Y/N)-cchi? You’re so cute you know that? You never told him, but his words never failed to increase the already intense pleasure you were receiving.

But today, after making out with you for a short while, he’d laid you down on your bed, raised your shirt up, freeing your breasts that he then kissed and pinched a few times before shifting his attention to your lower body. Once your panties were off you watched him lick two of his fingers and proceeded to stretch you, only problem was that after what felt like half a minute he pulled back and began unbuttoning his jeans, seemingly ready to move on.

You tensed up a little and tried to analyze the meaning of his rather absentminded facial expression. Many thoughts crossed your mind, such as him planning on having dry sex with you or just using his cock to get you wetter, but as soon as you felt his tip against your entrance, your mind went blank.

One of your hands stretched out towards the young man’s chest, planning on pushing him back a little, but a sharp pain made you freeze up on the spot. With wide eyes and a slightly open mouth, you looked up at the ceiling as you felt the painful way your walls were being stretched apart. Your free hand took a tight grip on the bed sheets, while the one on Kise’s chest ended up scratching his skin and even managed to draw some blood. All of these wordless pleas went unnoticed, your boyfriend’s attention was elsewhere but despite that, he didn’t stop thrusting his hips back and forth.

The pain gradually faded away but didn’t disappear completely and slowly but surely it became unbearable for you. Despite wanting to groan in pain, you bit the inner side of your cheek and began stuttering: “R-Ryou, wait please!”

Your voice was hoarse and slightly raspy from forcing back your pained moans so it barely managed to reach the young man’s ears. After vainly trying for a few more times you needed to resort to more drastic measures, so you moved both of your hands up to Kise’s face, taking a tight hold of his cheeks.

“Kise Ryouta! Red!”

The combination of his full name and the safeword both of you had agreed upon just in case, finally succeeded in catching his attention.

His eyes widened slowly as he realized what was going on. You're tensed up and slightly sweaty body beneath him, the pulsating pain in his chest, the almost painful tightness of your rather dry walls, and the most agonizing image for him: your pale face and slightly reddened lips.

Panic contorted his earlier calm facial features and he immediately pulled out, causing you to hiss at this unexpected motion.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)-cchi, I-I’m so so sorry, I–…god…h-how could this happen? W-What did I…what did I d-do?”

The tremble in his voice caused him to stutter as his shaking hands ran along your body in order to make sure that he hadn’t hurt you in any other way. His fingertips barely made contact with your skin, because he was afraid of touching you in some kind of way that could harm you any further. It was obvious that your usage of the safeword had shaken him up, even more than you’d expected, but this was your only option at that time…

With a sad smile, you took his hands in yours, brought them up to your lips, and kissed his knuckles, the sudden gesture making him flinch.

“Ryouta…do I now have your attention?” you softly asked, your kind tone moving him to tears as he ever so carefully embraced you and started apologizing multiple times. The earlier pain might not have been completely gone, but that was secondary, now you caressed the blond head that was buried in the crack of your neck, wet tears dripping down from your collarbone to your chest. In between your lover’s sobs you silently reassured and lectured him about how he shouldn’t go along with your antics if he wasn’t up for it.

When Kise had calmed down he finally raised his head to face you, his snotty and tear-stained face making you smile, as he once again begged for your forgiveness, promising you that the next time his mood was off he’d talk to you about it instead of bottling it up. Knowing that he was a man of his words you nodded proudly and gave his lips a tender kiss.

“Now then…ready for a second attempt?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Aomine:

Being Aomine’s lover was like a rollercoaster ride, at times he could be the person of your dreams while on others he was an unbearable asshole. Even though his attitude managed to make you see red ever so often, it also made your sexual life spicier.

He was a beast in bed, who managed to push you beyond your limits every single time. There was no such thing as can’t for him.

You can’t get into a certain position? He’ll make sure to mold your body into the position he wants you to be, regardless of how flexible you are or aren’t.

You can’t take his teasing anymore and want him to penetrate you? Sorry sweetheart but you’ll have to wait until he’s up for it and until then you’re free to beg and whine about it, providing him with further music to his ears.

You can’t hold your orgasm back any longer and want to cum? Telling him that is a bad move really because the moment he hears that he’ll grin to himself and stop all movements, wait for your body to calm down despite your numerous pleas, and resume only when he’s confident that you’re far away from reaching your high.

And it was precisely because of these past experiences that the two of you had agreed upon a safeword that you were to use only when things went too far. Both you and Aomine were confident that such a time wouldn’t come, until today…

While you were folding the laundry, your lover was in the kitchen, finishing up the dishes you’d more or less had to force him to do. Upon remembering his pouty face you couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, not noticing the tall young man creep up behind you with a mischievous grin.

“Got you!” he called out as he wrapped his arms around your body and pressed himself towards your back. You were caught off guard for a split second but decided to indulge his playfulness as a ‘reward’ for doing the dishes, but your lover unexpectedly took your well-meant intention out of proportion…

“Daiki…w-wait!” you manage to stammer out, your shaky hand gently slapping against the back of the bigger hand that’s hooked around your rib cage. Without fulfilling your request the man behind you keeps the thrust of his hips steady, as he palms your left breast and kneads it.

His slightly chapped lips run along the slight curve of your neck and pepper it with sloppy kisses. You flinch as you feel his other hand slide down your body, heading straight for your clit, and without wasting another second, starts massaging it.

Your vision gets blurry as you feel his rough finger mercilessly draw circles on your already sensitive bud and your moans grow louder as he bottoms out deep inside of you, the slapping of his balls further amplifying the squelching noise echoing in the room. All you can do is cling to him as you feel the knot inside you slowly tightening and dreading to burst any second from all the ministrations.

“You gonna cum?” he asks in a low whisper while nibbling on your ear. You bite your lower lip and nod multiple times as you squeeze your eyes shut and ready yourself for your orgasm.

The moment your walls squeezed down on Aomine’s shaft it made him shudder in pleasure and groan out a silent that’s it as he slowed down his hips’ thrusts, letting you indulge in your orgasm. His deep blue eyes fondly observed the way your body twitched and the slight tremble of your thighs against his own made him tighten his grip around you. While you were still trying to recover from the intense wave of pleasure that had shaken you, you felt how your boyfriend’s cock hardened inside of you, but before you could call out to him, the man took a fistful of your hair and pushed your face down on the pile of folded clothes before you.

He resumed his earlier thrusting speed, but thanks to the slight change in positions he managed to hit the entrance to your womb every single time his hips collided with your soft behind. Truth be told, when Aomine saw you - the person he loved so much - cum that hard by his hands it flipped a switch inside of him. The young man was usually holding many of his kinks and desires back out of worry for the consequences they’d have on your body, but right now all these worries had disappeared and were replaced by a single thought.

I’ll give her an orgasm that will mess her up

You felt an enormous weight push your back further into the mattress, your legs were spread apart, pulled back, and trapped beneath muscular calves. Something told you that whatever was about to happen it wasn’t going to be pleasant, so before your lover began you reached back, searching for his hand and whispering out his name in a slightly trembling voice.

Whatever your intention was, it was completely ignored by your boyfriend, because the moment he heard the silent call of his name he began to downright fuck you as if there was no tomorrow. Your eyes widened at the fast speed at which you were spread apart and the way his body had pinned you to the bed provided you with further friction that made you tear up.

You wished you could say that it felt good, but that might have been the case on another day where you hadn’t cum as hard as you did a few minutes ago. Right now you were in pain. Every thrust forward made your stomach tense up painfully, while each graze of the bedsheets against your abused clit made you jump; you were just so sensitive from before that anything Aomine did, made you shudder and jump as if he was throwing ice-cold water at your burning skin.

Even when you loudly pleaded with him to wait or stop, he seemingly didn’t hear you and kept going. So with not much of a choice left, you tried pushing yourself back against him, your safeword escaping your lips. ”Aomine, stop! Red! Red!“

And just like that all of his movements seized almost immediately, the weight on your back was lifted in an instant, and you were carefully pulled up right into the man’s muscular arms. He didn’t have to say anything, the tight hold around your sore body was enough to get the message across.

You relaxed against his chest and let your head drop on his shoulder as you finally granted your body a well-deserved break from all the over-stimulation. Only when you felt better did you wrap your arms around him.

“…’m sorry (Y/N)” he mumbled against your head in an unusually regretful and pained tone. Having you use the safeword the two of you had agreed upon was something neither of you thought would happen and now that it did, it was quite shocking.

You closed your eyes and planted a soft kiss on his neck, your hand moving up to the back of his head and gently ruffled his slightly sweaty hair.

“It’s ok Daiki, just…just let me rest for a bit next time before going all out like that, ok?”

He leaned back to look into your eyes and sniffled silently, before nodding a few times and giving you a peck on the lips.

Akashi:

Being as perfectionistic as Akashi was in nearly everything proved to be good in certain situations, though truth be told, the young man had bettered himself and was now less hard on himself than before, mainly thanks to you.

In the first few months of your relationship with him, everything was going perfectly well, including your sexual life. He was very attentive and always listened to any worry or topic you had on your mind, not only that but he was also very quick to pick up whenever something didn’t sit well with you. The best example of such a moment was when you’d first started having sex with each other.

Everything was, as expected, perfect but as time went on you felt like something was missing. It just wasn’t enough, you thought and it took you a while to bring it up and when you finally did things turned out to be unexpectedly different.

“Just use the safeword whenever you feel like it’s becoming too much for you or when you’re uncomfortable or anything of that sort, ok?” he softly asks as he tightens the last knot of the red rope around your body, watching you nod in agreement.

The young man took a few steps back to admire his handiwork and deeply breathed in as he pulled out a thin black fabric from one of the shelves. His slender and slightly rough hands brought the fabric around your face and before robbing you of your vision completely, he wanted to confirm the safeword one last time.

“What do you say when you want me to stop?”

“…red” you answered in a silent but firm voice, your response earning you a gentle kiss on the nape of your neck before everything went dark.

The silence and darkness that surrounded you, made you so nervous that you could practically hear the way your heart thumped against your bosom. Your breathing quickened and caused the ropes to practically bore into your skin with each lift of your chest. When you felt the gentle hands of your beloved trail down your back it made goosebumps adorn your skin and you slightly shivered at the prickling sensation.

Just as you’d gotten used to it, the warmth left your back and with your heightened senses, you listened to the faint steps of the red-haired young man who yet again turned around to pull something out of the drawer once more. While Akashi was doing that you tried to get a better feel for the ropes that were constraining your movements, so you wiggled slightly.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to move around now did I?” you heard a low voice mutter behind you and before you could apologize you felt something cold hit your exposed butt. You yelped out in surprise and instinctively attempted to raise your hand to cover your mouth, but the ropes stopped you mid-movement, their rough structure leaving faint marks behind.

After that failed attempt you began to take slow but deep breaths, ignoring the tight feeling surrounding your body. That’s when you felt the object Akashi had spanked you with touch your back and trace your spine’s curve with the leathery surface.

“I trust you’ll behave so that I don’t have to do that again” he cooed next to your ear, kissing it gently while eagerly awaiting your response.

Being in control was nothing new to the young man and it usually didn’t mean much, but now that the person he loved was at the palm of his hands, leaving both their vision and body entirely to him gave him a new sense of power he’d never felt before. His hands were trembling with excitement and just the mere thought of all the possibilities that this little play had in store for you made the tent in his pants feel tighter than before.

Not receiving an answer for that short while during which he fantasized about the upcoming pleasure and sweet pain he’d provide you with, made him a tad impatient, so he brought his arm around your body and teasingly tugged on the knot between your breasts while his other hand lifted the black leather belt from your back and prepared for another spank.

“So you’re not going to answer, huh?”

spank

You tensed your muscles and bit your lower lip as you felt the object hit your buttocks for a second time, but instead of the same tingling sensation from before it hurt, and whenever the cold air around you made contact with your reddened skin it burned so bad that it knocked the air out of your lungs, leaving you behind panting and gasping for air.

Mentally you were still stuck at the first time he spanked you, his unexpected words and the surprising roughness he treated you with were still stuck in your mind.

Was that really the same Akashi who treated you like a delicate flower during your first few times? Did he use his entire strength or is he still holding back?

Question after question poured into your mind, but before you could speak one of them aloud you were slapped yet another time.

“You must be really feeling it if you’re defying me for that long”

N-No…i-it hurts

You clenched your fists and let your nails dig into the ropes around your hands to try and cope with the pain and the way he played with your nipples wasn’t helping.

“S-Sei…w-wait”

“Hm? What was that my dear? I think you might want to speak up a little, or else I won’t know what you want” he said in a playful tone, positioning the belt on your bruised skin.

“N-No, Seijuro please!” you begged, body thrashing around, disregarding the slight sting of the ropes. You felt his gentle arms protectively wrap around your body as he leaned his chin on your shoulders and said: “(Y/N)…we agreed on something, didn’t we?”

His voice was silent but carried a certain amount of sternness that made you freeze up and look down in shame. Through gritted teeth, you whispered out the safeword and remained motionless as your lover began removing the ropes around your body. Much to your surprise, they were tighter than expected, so the moment they were loose enough for removal, you felt your blood circulation resume its course without disruption, making you feel a little weak on your knees.

“It wasn’t that hard now was it, (Y/N)?” Akashi asked as he carefully removed your blindfold and walked around you, now facing you. He let his eyes glide up and down your body, regret distorting his facial features.

“I-I’m sorry Sei, I just…I didn’t want to back out because it wa–”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know” he interrupted and caressed your cheeks before finishing what he intended to tell you, “but I told you to use our safeword if something wasn’t to your liking, didn’t I?”

You nodded and apologized to him, but you were still not looking into his eyes, only when he lifted your chin with his finger did your eyes meet. With a small smile, he gave your lips a soft kiss and smiled. “Just make sure to speak up next time, ok? I’ll never be mad at you or anything if you do…this is why we agreed on a safeword after all, right?”

A wide grin adorned your lips as you nodded energetically a few times and wrapped your arms around the neck of your boyfriend, relieved and happy that you worked it out.

[hotwings0203]

Dead best husband dabi expects his wife to come home make him dinner and fuck his cock then spends the money she makes on beer

Tw:dubcon, misogyny, food play

It’s a tedious routine, almost like dreadful clockwork. You come home from your 9-5, take off your shoes, throw your keys on the counter, and not even before you make it into the kitchen is when his requests come out.

No, you say requests to keep yourself sane, but they’re actually thinly veiled commands.

“Where’s dinner? I’ve been waiting all day.”

“God, you look like a slut. Were they having an orgy at your work or somethin’? Is that what you were so busy doing all day? No wonder this place is a mess. Clean this shit up.”

“Hurry up, the lights broken. And you smell like shit, go wash-no, after you change the bulb.”

You have to look at your wedding photos frequently to remind yourself that he’s your husband, not some lowlife you picked up.

Except, every time you look at the pictures to evade his harsh insults and biting directions, it feels like the Dabi in your memorabilia sneers more and more rather than smiles.

It’s his permanent look, in fact, you’ve forgotten how it felt to feel a warmth in your heart when he smiled demurely at you. It’s hard to remember how his soft touch across your cheeks felt rather than the usual slap delivered to the sore skin.

When you walk in, he’s sprawled on the couch, a t.v remote in one hand and a beer in the other. He’s wearing a wife beater and shorts, absentmindedly scratching his balls when you utter a small “Hey hun.”

“Don’t you ‘hey hun’ me. Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes and immediately make your way to the kitchen, with him leaping up from the couch and tailing behind you.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, what, you ignoring me now?”

He grabs the back of your neck and slams you face-first into the fridge, preventing you from opening the door.

“Ow! No, I was just looking for a snack-“

“-shut up. You don’t get to eat until I do, you cow. Or are you forgetting how this marriage works?”

He crushes your neck and leans forward to take a whiff of your hair.

“God, is that cologne? You cheating on me now?”

“No Dabi, we had a company lunch and I was just talking to some friends. Maybe that’s what you’re smelling.”

He lets go of you and throws you towards the sink. “Good. You better not be. If I find out some douchebag’s been putting his hands all over you I’ll slit his balls and make you eat em’.”

You grimace and wordlessly start putting pots and pans together, ignoring the rumble in your stomach. You didn’t even get a chance to take your suit off, but you don’t dare exit the kitchen until he’s had his fill yet.

He’s just hangry. That’s all there is to it.

Your husband scratches his stomach and ambles back to the living room, belching obnoxiously and running his hands through his unruly hair.

Hours go by as you slave over the stove, making his favorite desserts and dishes as your fingers begun to progressively cramp, your legs begin to burn as you stand and finish up. With him in the living room it’s easy to taste your own food and get some meager meal in between breaks, but you stop yourself from gorging without him.

Knowing Dabi, he’d measure how many cups of food you started cooking with and subtract it from how much remained now.

Even though it was your money that bought this food.

You’re at the sink a while later cleaning spoons when he strolls in again, crossing his arms and leaning against the entrance of the kitchen. He watches you for a couple minutes, sighing and humming to yourself as you scrub vigorously.

He doesn’t take in the copious amount of dishes you made, he doesn’t compliment how spotless the place looks despite all the cooking that went down here, no. Dabi stares at the way your ass wiggles while you work, the way your body bends attractively over the running sink, your tits brushing against the countertop.

You yelp and drop a small plate when you feel hands encompass your waist. His body is pressed tightly against yours, his hips lightly humping you like an eager virgin does. The force of his weight against you pushed you forward and you have to quickly grab onto the sink spout to avoid falling face first into soggy sink food.

“Dinners almost done Dabi, I’ll be out with it in a bit.”

“Mmmh, I’m not interested in eating that kind of food right now.”

He rests his head on top of yours and you barely refrain from screaming. What the hell did that mean? Wasn’t he the one harping on you earlier for not cooking fast enough?

“God, you look like a perfect slutty housewife right now. ‘M gonna fuck you.” He mutters as he begins yanking your trousers off while bending you further on the sink.

Your hands brace on the wet banister as you let him take what he wants. Last time you refused, he shoved one of his beer bottle necks into your pussy and made you ride on it.

“Dabi-Dabi, the food.” You try to tell him to move the dishes being pushed around from him manhandling you up on the counter but he doesn’t listen.

One plate goes crashing onto the floor, your Alfredo sauce mixed with porcelain bits.

“Oops,” he says not so regretfully. When your panties are successfully ripped down, he lifts your waist and lugs you onto the countertop, your upper half plastered on the cool marble.

His patched hands snake their way up your shirt and push the fabric up along with your bra while his now naked hips start pushing against your bare cunt.

Your exposed tits are squished down and you hiss as your body envelopes the cold counter. You try to lift your head up but he pushes you head back down.

“Uh-uh, no moving ‘till I’m finished. This is what you get for dropping food on the ground. In fact-“

His eyes catch a hold of the mini cakes you whipped up, and a sly grin on his face erupts as he looks from them to your quivering hole.

“Why don’t you have a taste of it? One down, a couple more plates to go!” You cry out in frustration as his hand swipes across the bar and sends the cake dish flying onto the floor.

He pays no heed to the defeating crash, just merely inspects his fingers that got some whipped cream on them while he smack the plate.

“A chef’s gotta taste her own cooking right? This cunt definitely looks hungry and oh so greedy right now too,” he pouts mockingly and traces his cream-covered fingers around your labia, roughly circling your clit and mixing the sweet food into the crevices of your pussy.

“P-please Dabi, don’t. We can do this after dinner, I’m so tired right now! I have to clean up this mess too!”

But no amount of pleading satiates the sadistic bastard. He just yanks your head back and shoves his fingers in your mouth when you open it in pain.

“Suck on ‘em real good, just like how you suck off your bosses. That’s how you get all this fuckin’ money right? You show a little ass, flash some tits, suck some old geezers off-and boom! You’ve got a nice house, and nice husband.” He leers at you as you choke on his slender digits.

Only when you feel like you’re about to vomit is when he yanks his hand out and wipes up another stray glob of frosting from the side of a testing plate. He doesn’t waste any time in working his fingers back inside you, a different hole this time however.

It feels so wrong with a massive creamy glob being pushed along your walls along with expert fingers that know your body inside out, but no matter how disgusting it is, he still finds your spongy area and begins stroking. The smooth filling glides up and down your g-spot as the pads of his fingers batter your sloppy pussy, and in no time you begin moaning.

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi, fuck, please,-“

“Oh Dabi, oh Dabi,” he mocks cruelly, pinching your clit and squeezing your squished nipples as he pulls his fingers out right at the tip of your climax.

You try to turn around and plead for release but he doesn’t let you. Without missing a beat he takes his bricked up cock in hand and taps it on your ass before gliding in your weeping, cream covered pussy.

The moan you let out is so lewd that even a pornstar would be proud. You hate him, hate this marriage, hate the way he orders you around and looks down on you regardless of how you shower him with love and money.

But holy fuck, when his mushroom tip bangs against your womb like that and drags up and down your sensitive cavern you forget all the abuse.

Back and forth, up and down, sideways and forwards is the way you feel fucked. For someone who just sits on the couch all day you wonder how someone with such frame could fuck like a stallion, barely missing a beat.

“Hah, haaa fuck, you little whore, yeah, bring that ass back on Daddy, show him what you show those creepy fucks at work.” He pants and strikes your ass as you ricochet off his pelvis, his balls slapping your sticky labia.

You whine and try to wriggle out of his intrusion when he sneers the insult, but he merely cages you in between his arms and hunches over your bare body, pumping into you faster than before.

Your open jaw clacks as your tongue drops out in pleasure, his animalistic grunts and curses going straight into your ear and sending you over the edge.

He cums before you, groaning and dropping his dead weight over your suffocated body, not bothering to aid in your pathetic rubbing against his deflating dick.

“A little bit more, please Dabi? I’m so close honey-“

His fingers twitch next to you as he regains himself, exhaling through puffed up cheeks and yawning widely.

“Shut up. You don’t deserve to get off after the mess you made here.”

He peels his sweat-soaked body off of yours and tucks himself back into his pants, regarding the mess on the floor.

All your hard work, gone within a few minutes of ruthless fucking. Which you didn’t even get off to.

He fishes out a crumpled $10 from his musty shorts and throws it at your face like a cheap hooker would take.

“Here. Buy some Plan B and get me some beer. And you better not leave before serving me some fucking food, useless bitch.”

[monaisdark]

AHHHH! I loved your virgin shiggy post, I was wondering if you could make a part two with reader giving shigaraki a tit-fuck in an empty classroom, with degradation kink, and exhibition kink! I'm sorry if this too horny - Anon ♥♥

haha.. im back i guess. Its been a couple weeks but i have some time to start writing again :)) checking my inbox, i did NOT expect this many people wanting a pt2 to my virgin shiggy post. prolly my fault for holding it off for so long :/ so i made it longer than i planned but count this a thanks for 200+ followers!! <3 anyways i really need to catch up on my inbox but expect more from me !!

➨ paring — Virgin! (not anymore) Tomura Shigaraki x Fem! Bully! Reader

➨ warnings — Sub! Shigaraki, Dom! Reader, mommy kink, slight masturbation, humiliation, degradation, begging, exhibition, tit-fucking, hand-job, cum denial

PART 1

Shigaraki messed up. It’s been a week. A week since you cornered him in a room and took his virginity.

He still remembers what you told him when you left— “Take a shower tomorrow. Also wear a different top for god’s sake. If you do... I might let you touch me.” 

Shigaraki beat himself over for agreeing to it as soon as he got home. You were his bully. One of the people making his school experience even more unbearable than it already was.

Yet he completely was undone as soon as you placed your hands on him, and you knew it. He just didn’t know what you wanted.

Dick? No, you were pretty and popular— you could probably get some from more desirable guys. To bully him? Sure, you said mean things to him during the encounter but the bullying was always around your friends.

For a whole school week, he stayed home. Making up some bullshit to the school that he had the flu. Frankly, he was scared to go. How was he supposed to face you?

Did you tell anyone? Secretly record it? Was he currently the laughing stock of the entire school for begging to continue to fuck you?

But even away from school, you had an effect on him. He’s still a horny guy. Now, jerking off wasn’t the same anymore, not when he had some taste of pussy thanks to you.

Shigaraki would always end up thinking back to you, even with porn he couldn’t get you out of his head. His hands clamping around his cock weren’t the same as your pussy, same with the bodies of other women.

He found himself indulging into mommy kink porn, something he didn’t really get off from before you. Shigaraki pretend it was you talking to him, bouncing onto his lap and letting him touch you.

But after a bit— Shigaraki found it going no where, they weren’t you.

Cursing, he would always finish early. And not in a good way. In a way where he was left unsatisfied. Putting his painfully hard cock back into his sweats and trying to sleep his horny-ness away.

Shigaraki realized he needed you, you talking to him, you around his cock. Now, he regretted not sticking to his word. But he’ll make it up for you.

You were quite mad. Shigaraki hasn’t been to school since that day. How ungrateful, you literally let him put his dick in you and now he ghosts you in real life.

You fully expected him to be at school the next day with the way he begged you to stay, clean and ready for you. So imagine your annoyance in seeing him not show up for several days.

But today was different, the newly ex-virgin actually showed up. To your surprise, he still did more than you expected him to do despite being a week late.

Shigaraki had changed his hoodie to a whole new one, it looked recently bought. As well as his hair, looking more soft than greasy like it typically was. Though he didn’t style it, it still overhanging on his face.

Still, he definitely looked a lot better, not enough for others to notice but enough for you to smirk at your work.

Both of you didn’t interact with each other besides a few glances until lunch. You guys sat on completely different ends of the cafeteria, him sitting in a small corner table while you sat in a large one.

Shigaraki looked fidgety, meekly looking up every few minutes to watch you interact with your friends. He was waiting for school to end, planning to catch you at the same empty classroom you took his virginity in.

Though you had completely other plans.

“Hey, I’ll be right back.” You got up from your table, grabbing your bag from off the floor. “To?” One of your friends asked, not looking up from their phone.

“Some nerd, he’s gonna do my homework we got last period. Apparently, his parents found out he’s been doing our homework and now he's gotta do them during lunch. Gotta make sure they do it right.” You lied through your teeth, hoping they would just back off.

They didn’t look up, instead pulling their homework worksheet out of their binder with one hand, putting it in yours, “Get him to do mine.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the paper, “Yeah.” You walked away, crumbling the paper to throw it in the trash. You’ll just say you lost it. Not like they’ll do anything about it.

Narrowed eyes landed on Shigaraki, his eyes currently focused on his phone. You strudded your way to him, smirking to yourself.

Shigaraki almost jumped when he felt something brush against his leg. Looking up, he was met with you sitting down next to him.

“Hey.” You said, placing your bag on the table and putting your last period’s homework on the table.

“You’re good at chemistry, right?” You questioned, shifting through your bag for something to write with.

“...Well— I... um...—“ Shigaraki stuttered, unsure of what was currently going on.

“Great.” You pulled the phone out of his clammy hands, replacing it with a pencil. “...What?” He tilted his head, was this a joke? Did you completely forget about a week ago?

“Hm...? Well, get onto it.” You uttered him on, putting your chin in your hands, eyeing him. Reluctantly, he looked back to paper, beginning to work on it.

After around 5 minutes, you brushed against him even more, getting close to his side. “What does that say?” You pushed yourself further into his side, your chest touching his arms.

Shigaraki cursed himself for already becoming red, he pants tightening around his crotch as last week flashed into his head again.

“Um... m-mole is a unit of measur— Hmph!“ He held back a loud whine when your right hand traveled to his crotch.

“What— what are you doing?” He asked under his breath, holding back small whimpers as you palmed him, “Where have you been?” You questioned sternly, upset he kept you waiting.

“I’m sorry... I got sick.” He bluffed, it was too embarrassing to admit he was scared. With how he left you hanging, he expected people to be laughing at him the moment he stepped onto school grounds.

“Sick? A whole week?” You hummed, you could already tell he was lying. Still, you were proud that he even bothered to make it up to you by fixing himself up.

“With your diet of energy drinks and chips, I’m surprised you’re not dead.” You decided to let it go, he was just nervous to show up.

Yet you think he deserves a bit of punishment.

Shigaraki felt heavy as you teased the zipper of his jeans. He immediately tensed, “Wait— now..?” He saw you narrow your eyes, “Something wrong?”

“There’s people here!” He whispered yelled, flinching as he felt you unzip his jeans ever so slowly, trailing your finger along his exposed boxers.

“So? You’re just some loser in the corner, nobody will notice if you aren’t obvious.”

Shigaraki could already feel pre-cum form at his tip, staining his boxers a bit. You giggled a bit, feeling the dampness of his boxers. “Already?” Shigaraki shook his head, “I... I haven’t came since... that day.”

You laughed a bit louder than you expected to, good thing the cafeteria was already loud. “How sweet of you. Couldn’t get it on?”

Shigaraki focused his eyes on your paper, muffled moans caught at the back of his throat as you freed his cock from his boxers.

Now slowly pumping him, Shigaraki dropped the pen of the table. He wanted to do something with his hands, to touch you.

He moved his hand to your thigh, but of course, you didn’t allow him, “You’re too eager. Get back to work.” You ordered. Shigaraki was about to question you but you stopped him with stroking his cock faster.

Both of you continued this way for a bit, him answering questions with his shaky hands while you jerked him off.

Shigaraki could’ve sworn he felt eyes on him a couple of times, yet every time he looked up, nobody was even batting an eye in his direction.

He could feel his cock twitch at the excitement of being caught. How would they explain one of the most popular girls giving an outcast a hand-job under the table?

As he got to the last question— he was already drooling on the paper, mouth clenched shut to avoid moaning and panting to be let out.

You could tell he was about to cum, the writing on the paper progressively getting sloppier as time went on. “M-mommy...” Shigaraki whispered just enough for you to hear, “Hmm, you want to cum?”

He nodded furiously, he was extremely pent up and needed release. And just as he thought, you were the only one who can give it to him.

Shigaraki whimpered when you pulled away, looking up at the clock and collecting your stuff. “Then after school, room 204. Actually listen and show up when I tell you this time.”

You walked away just in time for the bell to go off, signifying that lunch was over. Leaving Shigaraki, once again, a mess.

Here he was again, feeling nostalgic as you walked into the empty classroom. Shigaraki easily grew again while anticipating this, the tent prominent in his jeans.

“Y’know, good job for showering and changing.” You gave him praise, Shigaraki turning red from your words. “This... this means I can touch you, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I actually keep promises.” He ignored the jab at him, it didn’t matter how mean you were— he was going to touch you finally.

Shigaraki awkwardly shuffled towards you, raising his hands up to look at you with wide eyes. He slowly paced a hand on your boobs, trying to see if this was just some test and you’ll get mad at him.

When he didn’t get anything back, he immediately started to dough on your clothed breast, cupping them. Then, he moved to unbutton your shirt, already seeing you thought ahead and took off your bra before coming here.

He fully took off your shirt, not wasting time on latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, both hands playing with your breasts. Shigaraki was basically humping your leg, sucking your nipples like a baby.

You giggled a bit, patting his head. He looked up at you with a clouded look, pure joy in his eyes as he finally got to touch you.

Looking back down at him, another idea popped up— you already took his virginity and gave him his first hand-job, whats another one of his firsts? “Shigaraki, do you want to feel really good?” He unlatched from your nipple, “I can be inside you?”

“No.” He frowned a bit, but perked up when you trailed your fingers on his boxers. “What if I put this,” You pointed at your boobs, “In between these?”

Shigaraki was already down, eagerly sitting on a desk while you got on your knees. He freed his cock, putting it in between your slick pushed together breasts, thanks to his sucking earlier.

You wasted no time on stroking it up and down with your breasts. He moaned feeling the softness of the valley between your chest, your breasts around his cock giving him warmth as you stimulated him.

Shigaraki was definitely feeling great, you even let him bend down and grab your breasts to control the speed of the tit-job.

Though, Shigaraki wanted more. You were giving him all these things, a hand-job, a tit-fuck. He’s been inside you once and he didn’t get to do what he wanted in the first place. To cum inside his mommy.

He feels a knot grow in his lower abdomen, but he doesn’t wanna cum yet. Instead, he pulled himself away from you, much to your confusion.

“What? You literally were about to cum and I was gonna let you!” You groaned, getting up as Shigaraki faced you.

“...Mommy, can I fuck you?”

“No, you didn’t come to school for a whole week. If you really wanted to you would have showed up.”

Shigaraki turned red, sputtering as he held onto your arm, “Please! I just want you cum inside you.” He whined, tears pricking at the chance of not getting to have sex with you after all this time.

You looked at him stoned faced as he begged, even falling to his knees dramatically to add to his desperation. “Fucking virgins, man.”

Shigaraki felt himself be pushed down, your skirt and panties on the floor. You straddled onto his length, moans filling the room quickly.

“Yes! Thank you, thank you, mommy!” Shigaraki thrusted his hips into yours, feeling even more over-joyed when he was allowed to touch your chest while you were on top of him this time.

Shigaraki desperately missed this, now he remembers why his hand didn’t compare to your tight pussy after trying to jerk off. He found his own rhythm quickly, muffled ‘mommy’s due to his mouth on your breasts.

“I’m doing this because you cleaned up, if you didn’t I would’ve left you to your own sad-ass devices already.” You lied, honestly, you hated the idea what he possibly was ignoring you by not showing up to school.

Even then, you’ve grown a bit found of him. His body, his expressions, his voice, everything really. It didn’t bother you as much when you saw his still messy hair, you were just glad to see him.

Though, you’d never admit it. Instead, it showed through the way you were tightening around his cock, panting as he moaned into and out your body. Shigaraki very quickly wrapped his arms around you, both of you on the edge.

“Fuck— Shigaraki. Cum, cum for mommy, okay?” You ordered, Shigaraki more than ready to fulfill it.

“Ah, thank you! Thank you, mommy! I’m gonna cum inside you!” Both of you rided out your highs, Shigaraki filling you so much it started to drip outside your full cunt.

He fell on top of you despite you initially being on top, you wanted to scold him but honestly couldn’t bring yourself to right now.

The room quieted down, the only words being exchanged were by Shigaraki softly muttering “Thank you, mommy.” into your neck

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust pt9

cw: pet whump, unreliable narrator, male whumpee, male caretaker, whump recovery, pet whumpee in public, disordered eating

It didn’t take Adrien long to whip up something simple to eat and to dish out some kibble for Sawdust. Granted, Adrien didn’t have much of an appetite after witnessing what he just had, but he knew that he had to eat something, if only to set an example for Sawdust.

“There’s ah- have you ever been in a store?” Adrien asked down to Sawdust, who was knelt at the side of the table, “There’s a big box store in town, we can get some stuff for you there.” He checked his watch with a quick turn of his arm, “I think they’re open pretty late, so we can go after this, probably.”

Sawdust blinked up at him with big eyes and a mouth full of kibble, but he nodded slowly.

“When we go, you have to stick close by me, okay?” Adrien didn’t have a leash so he couldn’t exactly keep track of Sawdust that way, though it wasn’t like he wanted to do that anyways. He didn’t expect that somebody would try to snatch Sawdust, he was more concerned about something catching the pet’s interest, and Sawdust wandering off to investigate. Even with the tall, pointed ears on top of his head, Sawdust was rather short, and Adrien didn’t want to test how good he was at spotting him in a crowd.

--

Sawdust continued to eat his food, finishing up the chow that was left in his bowl. It crunched between his teeth, in the satisfying way that made his whole head tremble just a bit with the feeling of each piece crumbling. He kept thinking about how he was going to help his master, how he was going to repay him for taking such good care of him.

Paws moving against the floor, Sawdust moved closer to his master and sat down next to his seat while Master was on his phone. Carefully, without permission, Sawdust let his head rest against the side of Master’s thigh.

He knew that it was a risky move, that it could end badly for him. Even if it ended badly and he was punished, at least he could take his punishment gracefully and allow Master to hurt his body. That could be repayment.

But no pain ever came. Instead, he felt Master’s leg tense up a bit before relaxing, then a large, warm hand on his head, petting his now short hair. Sawdust wished he could wag his tail to let his master know how good the pets felt, but this wasn’t what Sawdust wanted.

He pulled back and resumed sitting next to Master, but Master’s hand followed him. It was almost like Master didn’t realize that Sawdust had moved back, he kept petting him. He heard Master take a sip of his drink. Sawdust couldn’t help but jump at every little sound, waiting for the blows to come.

But they didn’t.

And Master pulled his hand back from Sawdust and stood up, stretching his arms above his head before looking back down at his worthless pet.

--

“Do you want to ride in your carrier? Or would you rather just be in the car seat directly?” Adrien asked as he started putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys. He paused as he looked Sawdust up and down. Sure, he was clothed, albeit the clothes were baggy, but he didn’t have any shoes. A quick dip into his room and Adrien returned with a pair of socks Sawdust could at least wear, though he didn’t know if it would really matter that much, since Sawdust was a pet.

Sawdust managed to put on the socks himself before crawling over to Adrien.

“I think the- the car s-seat’s fine, sir.” He murmured. Adrien gave him a pleased look then extended a hand to help Sawdust stand up. Shakily, the pet took Adrien’s hand and rose on trembling, unaccustomed legs. Sawdust kept close to the walls as he was led out of the building towards the car.

Adrien opened the door for him and Sawdust clambered into the vehicle, straightening his back against the passenger seat as Adrien buckled him in and got in from the other side.

The sound of the car starting up made Sawdust jump.

“Sorry,” Adrien laughed sheepishly, “It’s kind of old, it’s not especially quiet.” He put on something soft on the radio, just to drown out the rumbling of the engine. The dark trunks and leafy plumes of the trees passed by the car as they left Adrien’s home, the automatic gate closing behind them. Sawdust kept a watchful eye out to the forest, as though he expected something to come charging at them from the expanse of green.

Slowly, the trees faded away as Adrien approached the city. Getting closer to other buildings always made his hair stand on end. He hated it, but he had to go out into town every now and again out of necessity. Sawdust didn’t seem too keen on it either, shrinking away from the window once he spotted more people and houses along the street.

The car rumbled as it pulled into a parking spot outside the large store.

“This place has pretty much everything,” Adrien said. He reached into the compartment between the two seats and pulled out a beanie and a face mask, putting them both on. Sawdust stared at him with wide eyes. “You don’t have to wear this stuff, I just prefer to.”

Adrien got out and helped Sawdust out of his seat, taking his hand to assist him out of the car.

--

“Can you walk in the store?” Master asked. Sawdust looked down at his legs. He didn’t use them upright very often, he wasn’t allowed to before, and it felt weird to be doing it now. The silence seemed to be enough for Master, “That’s okay. I want you to try though, but you can sit and take breaks if you need to.”

Master led Sawdust up to the entrance of the store before instructing him to hold on to the metal cart Master picked as they entered.

The store was massive. Sawdust had never been in anything like it, with aisles that went on forever and lights that were almost blinding. It was loud in there, too. People were walking around, carts were being pushed, conversations were being had. And lots of people were looking at Sawdust.

The pet tucked himself near Master, trying to stay as close and as hidden as possible while Master navigated the store flawlessly. The first stop was for clothing, it seemed.

Master pulled a couple of shirts off from a shelf and unfolded them, holding them up to Sawdust’s chest and looking at him. Next were pants, measured in quite the same way. Master stuck to neutral colors, ones like gray and brown, ones that he mostly wore, himself.

“These should all be comfortable enough,” He muttered as he threw things into the cart. “Loungewear’s mostly what you need, sorry I don’t go out much.”

Why was Master apologizing to his pet? That wasn’t right, it made Sawdust feel bad inside. But he couldn’t just tell Master that what he was doing was wrong, so he grit his teeth and kept holding on to the cart.

Master kept pushing the cart until Sawdust came across a familiar scent. He raised his head and sniffed the air. It smelled like food here, like dog food. His eyes went wide and he looked around for the source, and Master only kept getting closer.

Turning around a corner, Sawdust was greeted by aisles and aisles of pet supplies. Chow, canned food, toys, treats, and all kinds of gear. He was excited, he couldn’t help but let out a little yip as Master pushed the cart over to the bags of food and started looking at them.

While Master stood and inspected the small bag he had in his hand, Sawdust was kneeling and pushing his nose against the big, crinkly bags of chow at the bottom shelf. He sniffed them, moving down the aisle and smelling each one. Some smelled meatier, some almost smelled like the greens Master ate sometimes.

Sawdust kept moving and sniffing, not even noticing that he was leaving Master’s side.

--

Adrien was looking, inspecting the bag of dog food and trying to think about if he needed to buy more for Sawdust yet, or if it was time to try to start weaning him off of it and onto normal human food.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that Sawdust was no longer next to him until he heard a bark and a gasp coming from the next aisle over.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @it-will-all-whump-out @theydy-cringeworthy @kim-poce @bluetheautisticrat @whump-in-progress

[glimmerglanger]

maybe not the most inspiring of prompts, but for a potential spicy sunday, could we see some codywan with Obi-Wan’s manhandling kink in full force? I know you’ve mentioned it a few times but I’d love to see Cody pick him up and hold/pull/twist/carry Obi-Wan around in all kinds of ways without breaking a sweat 🥵

!!!!!!!!!!! I am so very, very weak for Obi-Wan’s manhandling kink. ALSO this decided to be about a lot of FEELINGS in addition to the spicy.

Have some post-war (everyone lives, nobody dies) Codywan fic this fine Tuesday morning. NOT SAFE FOR WIZARDS. Very Spicy. Happy domestic times. Soft and sweet, for all the spicy.

~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan knew he was heavier than he looked. Years of training - of war - had turned him mostly to muscle and bone. Which made it something of a surprise, the first time Cody bodily hauled him along in the middle of a fight, without any apparent signs of difficulty.

Obi-Wan had gone down hard when a shell detonated only a few feet away; he’d been more worried about deflecting the force of the blast away from his men than remaining on his feet. He’d been prepared to scramble up when Cody just grabbed him - hands gripping tight at his arms - and yanked him back to his feet, dragging him along until Obi-Wan’s legs started working again.

And that was...interesting, he registered through the dizzy haze in his head.

But there hadn’t been time to consider it more than that. And he didn’t allow himself to consider it, later, after the campaign, when he was back in his quarters on the Negotiator. That would have been...inappropriate.

He didn’t allow himself to think about it, even though it kept happening. As the war progressed, Cody developed a habit of shoving or pulling him out of the way of a hazard, as though that were - somehow - simpler than just yelling at him to move. 

It grew more difficult to ignore after Ventress threw Obi-Wan off of a building and Cody - somehow - caught him on the way down, yanking him out of a freefall with little more than a grunt and setting him down again.

But ignore it and set it aside Obi-Wan did, focusing on keeping his voice steady and his heart from racing inappropriately, clear through his defeat of Grievous, through receiving word from Coruscant that Anakin had discovered that Palpatine was a Sith lord, and fought him, and--

And the end of the war.

And it was a surprise - a delightful one, to be sure - when Cody showed up at Obi-Wan’s quarters in the Temple, one evening, after the Senate declared the war over and said, “General, Obi-Wan--I wanted to--”

Cody kissed him soft instead of finishing the thought. Unsure, that first time. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that Cody had ever kissed anyone before and eased into it. They went slowly. They had no reason to go quickly, and, afterwards, Cody asked, “Should I...go?”

And Obi-Wan tugged him back to the bed and said, “You should stay.”

They fell asleep like that, woke up like that, and Obi-Wan expected, when they woke, that perhaps Cody would pull him closer and--

And Cody pressed close, indeed, after he woke up. But he was ever so careful with each movement. He handled Obi-Wan as though his bones were wrought of spun glass, as though the thought of leaving a bruise or a mark was not even to be considered.

Obi-Wan felt his warm joy, his pleasure, his contentment, and so he ignored any of the itching little desires that had lived in his head for years, by then. He, too, felt overfull of joy, leaning closer and kissing Cody’s mouth, taking him apart and putting him together again.

#

Perhaps they would have gone on like that indefinitely, if Obi-Wan never took an injury while handling a simple mission on Ryloth. He was still hurt by the time he made it back to the Temple, aching all down his left side, even after the healers looked him over and released him.

Cody was waiting for him, outside the door to the healer’s wing, a frown on his face. He said, “I let you go on one mission alone, and look what happens,” tone full of worry and chiding concern.

Obi-Wan gave him a smile and said, “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” 

Cody flashed him a disbelieving look and dragged one of Obi-Wan’s arms over his shoulders - soft and strong and warm - turning him towards their quarters without another word about it, and Obi-Wan’s gut kicked over, hard.

He felt like he was buzzing in his bones by the time they made it back to their rooms. Part of it had to be the pain-killers the healers had given him. It didn’t help that he missed Cody terribly. They’d been apart for the better part of two weeks.

Obi-Wan had gotten used to waking up beside him, going to bed curled against him.

It made his breath catch when Cody tugged him through the door and said, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned off,” and just headed for the fresher. 

Obi-Wan had been perfectly willing to pass out in his current condition. But he said nothing in complaint when Cody brought him into the fresher and then leaned him against a wall, reaching for his belts with a determined look on his face.

“You’re quiet,” Cody said, after a beat, shoving Obi-Wan’s outer tunic down, dark eyes glancing up, some worry reflecting in them.

Obi-Wan shrugged, shivering when Cody’s hands skimmed over his skin, over bruises and aches. He said, half out of his head, “Just thinking I need to get banged around more often.”

Cody went still, hands on Obi-Wan’s belt, expression freezing into place. He said, confusion making his voice gruffer, “What -- why?” 

Obi-Wan hummed. He was beginning to think that, perhaps, the healers had missed a concussion. It happened, sometimes. He felt as though he were floating and had definitely lost some measure of control over keeping his thoughts from spilling out of his mouth. “So you drag me around,” he said, breezy, and Cody just--stared at him, before something darkened in his eyes.

Cody looked to the side after a beat, hands still so close to Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan wished he could enjoy that state of affairs properly, but he didn’t think he’d be able to get hard. Not with the way his head felt. Cody cleared his throat, while Obi-Wan was thinking about things they could do even if he weren’t hard, and said, “You want to be dragged around, Obi-Wan?”

“Mm,” Obi-Wan said, leaning against the wall and feeling content to stay there as long as Cody desired. “Yes. But don’t worry. You don’t have to.”

Cody sucked in a little breath, held it, and then swore quietly before shaking himself. “You need to get to sleep,” he said, and started moving again, dragging down Obi-Wan’s slacks and turning on the fresher.

Obi-Wan groaned softly when Cody tugged him into the fresher. He let Obi-Wan lean against him as the hot water came down, as he rinsed off Obi-Wan’s skin, and, eventually, dried him off. And, somehow, they ended up curled up on their bed. Obi-Wan was starting to fade out, losing track of time, but that was alright.

Cody was there to keep track of it, for him. He could just...ease down into sleep. 

He was almost there when Cody asked, soft against his shoulder, “Why?”

“Why what, darling?” Obi-Wan asked, so drowsy the words blended together, nearly a slur.

“Why do you want dragged around?”

Obi-Wan hummed, pushing back a little against Cody’s warm, welcoming form. He almost shrugged but lacked the energy for it. “Just like it,” he said, yawning so wide that his jaw popped and then closing his eyes. “The way you do it.” And he didn’t know if Cody asked any further questions, because he fell asleep.

#

By morning, Obi-Wan vaguely remembered that Cody had insisted he take a shower and that they had spoken about….something. The details were a smeared blur, but he was used to that sensation. There were entire days he barely recalled, his memories all faded away from injury or exhaustion.

He noted it when Cody pulled him close to kiss him, before they left their quarters. It put a shiver down his back, but they had things to do, and so he set that aside. Cody watched him, though, gaze searching Obi-Wan’s expression before they stepped from the room.

And, later, when they were finally finished and able to snag some time to themselves, Cody tugged him through the door to their quarters, kissing him, hands everywhere. Obi-Wan groaned, pleasure jolting down into his gut, falling into the embrace.

And he groaned, unintentionally loud, when Cody pushed him a step back and then another, until his shoulders hit the wall. Cody made a thick sound in response, pulling his clothes off, and sliding down.

Obi-Wan swore, already hard by the time Cody tugged down his pants and stroked a touch over his cock. He bit his bottom lip, staring down, and then made a strange, ragged sound when Cody purposefully licked across his cock and slid his hands out to Obi-Wan’s hips, pressing him hard against the wall, staring up the entire time.

Obi-Wan shifted, as best he could, and gasped when Cody just tightened his grip, holding him just so. He could have used the Force to pry Cody off, if he wanted. But, fuck, he didn’t want. He wanted to just - just be held tight, to squirm fruitlessly while Cody bobbed his head and sucked and rolled his tongue and--

And swallowed, when he brought Obi-Wan over the edge.

Obi-Wan clenched fingers into his hair, breathing hard, groaning when Cody slid his mouth off slowly. “Like that?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan jerked out a nod, pleasure still throbbing within him, feeling Cody’s desire still pulsing in the Force.

“Good,” Cody said, and shifted, and Obi-Wan made a startled sound when Cody put a shoulder against his hips, wrapped an arm around his legs, and just stood, hefting Obi-Wan over a shoulder as though he weighed nothing.

Obi-Wan gasped, “What?” because it was so - so unnecessary. Their bed was hardly a dozen steps away. Muscle shifted under him as Cody crossed the floor, one of his hands closed on the back of Obi-Wan’s thigh, before they stepped through the bedroom door and--

And Cody dumped him down onto the mattress, so hard he bounced, gut getting tight again despite the fact that he’d just come, because, Force--

He started to reach for Cody, wanting him closer, immediately. Cody’s eyes were so dark. He was radiating lust through the Force, so thick that it made Obi-Wan shiver. He brushed a hand over Cody’s side, and then Cody was leaning over him, grabbing his shoulder and yanking and--

And rasping, “This what you want?” as he pulled Obi-Wan over onto his stomach and crawled onto the bed, pressing down over him, solid and warm and steadying, sliding his hand down Obi-Wan’s body to grip his thigh, pulling his leg to one side.

Cody settled closer against him, and Obi-Wan gasped back, “It’s very nice,” unthinking.

He had no idea what had brought any of this on, but that was a puzzle to solve at a later date. Sometime when Cody wasn’t humming and shifting, grabbing Obi-Wan’s hips and pulling them up, just moving him where - where Cody wanted him to be, his voice thick when he said, “Oh, I think we’ve got to do better than ‘very nice.’” He heard the click of a bottle opening and shivered down his back, his cock twitching already, Force-- 

“Cody--” Obi-Wan strangled off when Cody brushed slick fingers over him - once - and then pressed the tips of two fingers inside of him. He jolted, groaning, and Cody tightened his other hand on Obi-Wan’s hip, gripping hard and sure.

“Fuck,” Cody panted out, working his fingers in and out, going a little deeper each time, spreading them inside, stretching-- “Fuck, do you know how long I’ve wanted to - to hold you just like this? To just--” He twisted his fingers, pulled them out, came back with a third--

“How--” Obi-Wan gasped, looking for enough air to speak, feeling -- dizzy and good and -- “How long--?”

“You were--” Cody broke off, swearing, fucking his fingers in only once, perhaps twice, before dragging them out, his hand making a slick, wet sound when he stroked himself. Obi-Wan made a ragged sound in anticipation, trying to shift his hips to be more encouraging, and Cody tightened his grip again, panting out, “You were--on the bridge of the Negotiator. Bent over. Some star chart. And I wanted to - to push you forward--”

“Cody,” Obi-Wan panted out, wondering, fleetingly, exactly how long ago that had been, it could have been at any point during the war. It could have been the first time they met, that had been on the bridge of the Negotiator, but surely--

“And hold you, just like this,” Cody went on, leaning forward, the head of his cock pressed slick against Obi-Wan’s body, and-- “Get my cock in you,” he panted, rocking forward, Obi-Wan just stretched enough that it didn’t hurt but, oh, fuck, it ached. He felt it, each inch driving into him. “Just like this,” Cody panted, bottoming out, as Obi-Wan’s cock twitched against his stomach, hard so fast against it almost hurt.

“You want -- want me to fuck you like this?” Cody asked, apparently deciding to wait for an answer, buried so deep, holding Obi-Wan just so, letting him feel how full he was, how-- “However I want?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan gasped out, trying to shift forward enough to fuck back on Cody’s cock, and Cody grunted, putting his other hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, pressing down, holding him, and--

And Cody didn’t make him wait, after that, fucking into him hard and deep, breath punching out across Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders. Holding him just so, just how Cody wanted, and Obi-Wan was stuttering out nonsense words by the time Cody finally lost his rhythm and swore.

Obi-Wan expected Cody to fuck him harder, to shove him down, to come like that.

Instead, Cody leaned over him, curled an arm around his chest, and - with a grunt - rocked back onto his heels, dragging Obi-Wan along and--

And it drove his cock in deep. Obi-Wan felt speared open, crying out dazedly, Cody’s arm a band around his chest, Cody’s other hand sliding down his stomach, fingers curling around his aching cock, Cody grinding out against his ear, “Give it up for me, then, come on.”

Obi-Wan yelled something - it might have been Cody’s name - when he came, head dropping back on Cody’s shoulder, feeling his body squeeze around Cody’s cock and shivering when that was what brought Cody off, feeling the hot spill of him and hearing the noise he made as they sagged there together in the middle of the sheets.

“Force,” Obi-Wan rasped out, eventually, boneless in Cody’s hold. Cody made a thick sound against his shoulder and nodded, shifting so they collapsed sideways onto the mattress, just holding one another as their heart rates slowed down.

[bvccy]

Nothing to Despair | Preview 2 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

WARNINGS: Just nightmares and hurt/comfort, MORE ANGST

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: It's been 84 years and the fic is still not done, so have another preview. I didn't wanna post more, and this is a rough version, but then N I G H T M A R E S happened and NEW GIFS I was just bouncing to contribute so here, have this. Ironically, it's not Bucky having the nightmare in my fic, it's the reader/MC having one and being comforted by him, but still gonna take advantage of this lovely gif <3

She was running aimlessly away, but he was always behind her. She could hear him catching up, and if she turned her head she could see him coming closer, and his angry heaving breath was almost right behind her, and then she woke up.

Laying in bed frozen stiff with fear, her eyes took in the darkness of — oh, her hotel room at the Grand Continental in Cer. She stood up in bed and looked around: safe, quiet, and if she tried to remember her dream she already couldn't. She picked up her phone on the bedside table, fiddling with the Stark tech to see the time: 3:36 AM.

The fear was so intense she thought she would die if she didn't hold another person, right now. She had never felt anything like this in her life: not when falling out of a tree, not when flying, not when she got the mission from Steve, not when Bucky cornered her…

Bucky. He was sleeping in the other room. If she could just — No. He would either laugh at her for being silly or resent her for waking him up. She could almost hear him now: "You woke me up, for this? Take it like a big girl and go back to bed."

But there's never been a fear like this… in her blood and her bones, and her mind and underneath it. Through the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart thrumming, and though she knew it was impossible, a part of her mind was certain there was someone there with her, waiting, ready to —

It took three minutes of hugging herself in bed and trying, uselessly, to not be scared to absolute death before her heart won over her head and she stepped lightly to Bucky's room. She didn't even knock, she scratched at the door lightly. If he was awake, he'd hear it; if he wasn't, she won't wake him up.

No response. When she turned the handle slowly and inched the door open enough to poke her head through, only then did Bucky stir in bed. She could just make out the shape of him through the light from the window.

As he groaned sleepily and shifted in his sheets to get up, she wasn't sure if he was upset with her or not, and it didn't escape her notice how his hand went underneath the pillow — a weapon hidden there, most likely — but then he spoke into the dark and sounded gentle, if groggy.

"That you, doll?"

"Yeah… Can I come in?" she whispered, clinging to the door and trembling.

"Something happen?" asked Bucky, practically awake already.

"No, nothing, but — " How to tell him, how to explain a reason as dumb as this?

He was sitting up in bed by now, rubbing his face with his flesh hand, and then he looked right at her. "Come on in."

She stepped through gratefully but still ashamed, holding onto herself in her flimsy nightgown as she padded to his large bed. As she got closer, she could finally see him: soft hair ruffled, a stubble just barely grown, a plain white tank top stretching across his chest and the hint of scarring around the left shoulder.

His eyes looked curiously up at her, even worried. She hated depending on him, or anyone, and he'd noticed it. So when she looked at him pleadingly from beside his bed, he looked ready to listen, and to do almost anything.

"This is so stupid but —"

"Tell me."

"I'm really sorry to bothe—"

"It's ok, just tell me."

"I had a nightmare please don't laugh at me."

He wordlessly lifted the duvet and patted the bed for her to lie down.

She got in quickly and, before she could think of whether it was the smart thing to do, snuggled up into his body, her face at his neck and knees brushing against his stomach. She had enough control to keep her arms folded to her chest and didn't grab onto him, although she wanted to. Her heart was still beating powerfully away, her ribs and neck pulsing with its rhythm, her breath near panting.

"Thank you. I'm so sorry I woke you up."

"It's ok." he shushed her, one heavy arm going up to tuck her in then staying curled around her, braced against her back on top of the covers.

"This never happened before." she whispered apologetically. "I think I'll be fine in… a few minutes."

"Get the adrenaline out of your body, I know."

She paused and wondered if she should ask, then decided. "You get like this too?"

"Night terrors? Yeah, used to have them a while."

"I don't think it's a night terror… Not really."

"Good." he breathed into her hair, a touch away from a kiss.

It made sense why he'd be so sympathetic. He probably understood what she was going through better than she did, and suddenly she was filled with pity at the thought of him going through that alone — that and even worse, which was unimaginable. She snuggled in just slightly closer, but this time it was not for her own sake, and she regretted, with the strength of real guilt, that she did not know him sooner, that she couldn't be there for him when he needed someone —

"H-how did you get over yours?"

— if, in fact, he didn't have someone already.

"Slowly."

She sighed and rubbed her knuckles against his chest, the closest thing to a caress she could manage, and all around her she felt him freeze for a second in an intake of breath.

"M-must've been some nightmare." to get you to cuddle with me, he left unsaid. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." she sighed. "I already forgot it. But this fear, it's not going away…"

"It's quite something, isn't it." Bucky softly said, the arm around her back moving slightly to brush a thumb over her shoulder in slow, caressing motions.

She burrowed deeper into his chest, feeling surrounded by his warmth as his chin rested lightly on top of her head, both of them melting into the pillows. Slowly, her fear left her, and she became aware of the scent of him burning her up from the inside, sharp and spicy and just a bit sweet, and how she could just about hear his heartbeat, and his breathing, and how she had never seen that much of his naked skin before — though she barely could at all in the dark.

His fingers started making circles over her shoulder, lazy and absentminded, and she had to bury the mournful thought that this was the first time she'd ever felt anything like it.

Bucky pulled her imperceptively closer, bit by bit as the tension left her, and soon the back of her curled hands fell to rest against his chest, her knuckles pressed against a naked patch of skin. She felt him inhale sharply at the contact, and underneath his sheets she too trembled at the quiet tenderness.

"Don't worry, doll." he breathed into her hair. "I'll keep you safe."

She must have dozed off at some point. She became aware of Bucky's hand now hung around her hip, her own arm flung around what measure of him she could reach. Her head was resting on his broad chest and one leg was curled on top of his underneath the blankets. He seemed sound asleep, breathing softly beneath her, head tilted toward her as the faintest sliver of morning light shone through the curtains.

Without moving her head much, she looked up at his face. Bucky seemed more grim asleep than he did awake, his delicately drawn mouth resting in a frown, his brows low and with a hint of tension, his unshaven cheeks scruffy and dark. He must've put on a bit of a show to seem cheerful in front of her, when he did…

She let her eyes lick across his figure, down his thick neck, the stretch of tough skin, and the chest with the hint of hair peeking from underneath the tank top. She breathed in the warm scent of him and suddenly the feeling of his arm gripping her waist, even in the gentleness of sleep, was overwhelming.

There was too much of him, too close, too trusting, too intimate, so wide open just for her, and the inescapable hint of his affection distressed her: with how impossible it was, with how demanding it promised to be.

Slowly, she lifted her cheek off his chest and slinked away, his hot hand scraping across her figure as she went and stepped backwards onto the floor, trying to move the bed as little as possible. She looked at the watch on the bedside table: 4:55 AM.

Tip-toeing away, she left his room and closed the door with the faintest click she could manage.

Bucky opened his eyes to find his bed empty, the room quiet and just light enough for shadows to stretch across the length of it. It was just like every other morning but somehow, through her presence the night before, she'd taken something away. It's not like he'd hoped to wake up to her in his arms. Of course not. That would be silly.

His hand moved over the sheets: cold. She probably left as soon as he fell asleep. It was amazing enough that she had come at all, but then again he had an idea of how her nightmare made her feel; if hers were anything like his, she'd have gone to just about anyone. Even… Don't finish that thought.

He turned in bed, his back to where she'd been, facing the windows and the balcony glass doors beyond which the crowns of far trees swung in the morning air, big and beflowered and brimming with birds. It was, in every other way, a beautiful morning.

And things were so close to being perfect. He had her there, he'd held her in his arms, he'd been given the chance to be good to her, and wanted, and there when she needed him, and over it all hung the cloud of wonder at what a rare person he had found in her. Yes, she was a bit sullen sometimes and unassuming, but he realised those things were what he liked so much about her, that opening to being cared for so precisely shaped for what he had to give.

She wasn’t like the women he remembered from before; she didn’t try to make herself seem softer or sharper or more cheerful than she was, with a carefully curled mane of hair or an impossibly fertile figure, nor was her every gesture an invitation to flirt. She was dull and tender by comparison, a little sensitive and a bit sad, like a girl that never grew up but who, with so small a twist, might suddenly become beautiful.

When he pushed aside his guilts and longings, Bucky was grateful for all those little faults she had. He knew that if she poured her energies into seduction, she could be terrifying and irresistible. So he decided that he liked her distant and sullen and shy, even if it kept her from him. If anything, it only made him like her more, long for her more, want her for his own flawed self; take his pity, that her pride couldn't stand, and turn it into the most dedicated caring.

But he wondered was was wrong with her — what was wrong with him for her. She could hardly stand more than a few seconds' touch from him, like a raw nerve. Did she just not like the way he looked, or walked? Or the things he said, or how he treated her, or talked? Was it the arm? Was it his age? Was it who he was?

All of these were plausible, but somehow it felt like he was missing something. She wasn't just indifferent, she was so deliberately distant it almost seemed calculated. And she didn't just decide to avoid him, he realised: she did it instinctively. Her body reacted first, and she followed. At the periphery of these unhappy thoughts was the pitying realisation that she'd had practice.

Bucky wasn't heartbroken by her tacit rejections, of course not, he wasn't that far gone yet (but there was no way his was the first heart she'd broken).

He thought back to how she was around other men. Charming, more cheerful, joking and flirty but still, in the end, distant. All the teasing jokes distracted from her, all deep conversations distracted from her, all heartfelt consolations distracted from her, every incline of her body faced away.

After only a few minutes, Bucky relented and turned, burying his face into the pillow she'd slept on. It actually still smelled faintly of her hair. It was so specific to her and so comforting, her perfume mixed with something sweet and cloying and just a touch salty, it made his mouth water and his loins burn.

He rolled onto his back, lifted the sheets off his body, and looking down he noticed the state of himself.

"Down, boy." he sighed. "She's not here anymore."

Bucky rolled out of bed and got ready for his morning push-ups. They always made him feel better… Maybe he could add another couple hundred today.