#THE WAY HE HAS HER BODY SHAPE MEMORIZED. HER FIGURE!!! HER LEGS!!!

[akai-anna]

this is totally random and i have the urge to share it: i have a png called "shinichi is a simp for ran" which consists of manga panels/pages i collected where shinichi (yes you guessed right) is a simp for ran.

#detco posting #la junk talks #i have a whole DCMK folder on my laptop where i keep all my detco brainrot #and this is one of those things #i love my boy so in love just. the way he keeps looking at her. with a blush on his face. the way he gets nosebleeds around her. #THE WAY HE HAS HER BODY SHAPE MEMORIZED. HER FIGURE!!! HER LEGS!!! #god i love this boy. UTTERLY WHIPPED!!! ABSOLUTELY BESOTTED!!! BY ONE MOURI RAN!!! #what a fckin simp my beloved

[juyeonszn]

WHAT IS LOVE? — TWENTY

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

MORE ₊˚⊹ um. i apologize in advance 🧍‍♀️

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TWENTY — A Hole In The Shape Of You (2.17k)

The rest of the week moved faster than you anticipated. Even breakfast with Juyeon felt like it wasn’t nearly long enough.

As you sat across from him at a two person table in that cute cafe, you couldn’t help but feel your heart stutter every time he smiled. He laughed genuinely at any of the jokes you made and he looked like he really wanted to hear what you were saying, all his attention on you whenever you spoke.

You learned that his crush on Tzuyu started around the same time as yours on him. It humanized him in a way, it made you see him as an actual person with feelings rather than the guy you put on a pedestal for so long. When you told him about sharing College Algebra first year, he laughed at the fact that you had such a vivid memory.

Just as you suspected, he didn’t remember. You didn’t really expect him to, considering he didn’t have a good memory, but also because you never did anything memorable. It was probably better for everyone involved if you got over this crush and moved on with your life. You didn’t stand a chance anyway, since you were literally helping him get with the girl he was actually interested in.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you felt like you were going insane. Despite coming to the conclusion that you would give up with Juyeon, you were still freaking out over picking an outfit for the party. Yuqi watches in amusement as you hold different bathing suits and dresses up to your body in front of your mirror.

“This is a disaster! I have nothing to wear.” You sigh, flipping backwards onto your bed.

“You’re being dramatic,” Yuqi snorts, flicking your forehead. “Wear the pink halter with the white sundress. Have a little Barbie moment.”

“Oh my god, you're a genius!” You shake her by the shoulders. “Should I wear heels too?”

“Yeah, maybe some wedges? You can always ask Sakura for her opinion too when she gets here.” The blonde says as she gets up to stretch. Her orange bikini looked cute paired with the tube top and shorts she was wearing, her long legs accentuated with the strappy heels on her feet.

You and your two girl friends were going to the party together, meeting Kevin, Eric, and Haknyeon when you got there. Seonghwa and Minho decided to opt out of this one— both not too keen on attending. You figured Seonghwa just didn’t feel like dealing with a drunk Eric because that was his least favorite Eric, but you weren’t too sure why Minho didn’t want to go.

Sakura arrived at your apartment just after you’d finished your makeup and the three of you set on your way to the Tau Psi Zeta house. You were more nervous than you initially thought you’d be about seeing Juyeon in a public setting. The closer you got to Greek Row, the quicker your pulse began to race.

Though it went against all of your morals, you half hoped he would see you and fall in love instantly, forgetting his crush on Tzuyu ever existed.

“We’re here!” Sakura sing-songs, parking with the other cars along the block. As if he had perfect timing, your phone buzzes while you make your way to the backyard.

[8:13 pm] juyeon: hyunjae, jacob, and i just got here

[8:13 pm] juyeon: are u here yet?

[8:14 pm] y/n: we just got into the backyard!!

[8:14 pm] y/n: looking for kevin and the boys rn then grabbing drinks :P

You shove your phone inside your purse and follow behind Yuqi, who seems to know exactly where your other friends are. Kevin and Eric are in a shotgunning contest when you find them, Haknyeon standing between them with the stopwatch running on his phone. Surprisingly, Eric finishes first, the foam from his beer can spraying at the crowd when he pulls away. Kevin isn’t far behind, crushing his own can in defeat.

The younger boy looks pleased with himself, fist bumping the air and then running around the circle to high five everyone. It had only been an hour since the party started and you could tell he wasn’t going to last the whole night. Kevin shuffles over to you dejectedly, a pout on his lips.

“I can’t believe I lost to fuckass Eric,” he groans. “I need another beer.”

You laugh and then your little group is scampering off to the drink area. Yuqi puts herself in charge of concocting something for you as you glance around the full backyard for two people. First, you spot Tzuyu in the pool, giggling with what you assume is some of her sorority sisters. Then you squint your eyes and scan the yard some more, but ultimately fall short.

That is, until you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You spin around to see the culprit with his stupidly cute grin, his buddies behind him. You bring up a hand to give him a small wave.

“I figured I should just come straight here instead of trying to find you out there.” Juyeon says, scratching the back of his neck.

“That was smart,” you nod, thanking Yuqi when she hands you your drink. “Um, this is my best friend Yuqi.”

The pair exchange introductions and then you formally meet Jacob and Hyunjae. You’d heard about the former through Kevin mostly, but the latter through Eric, who’s interesting baseball stories seemed to always involve the older boy. They’re both polite, even thanking you for your services in regard to their friend.

Juyeon’s cheeks redden and he looks away from you before something catches his attention. You’re almost too busy joking around with Haknyeon to notice that he’s completely enamored by the view of Tzuyu, like nothing else in the world mattered to him.

Key word: almost.

You’re about to include him in the conversation when you see him staring off into the distance. You direct your gaze in his line of sight, a frown slowly replacing the smile on your face. Juyeon wasn’t here for you, you have to remind yourself. He didn’t even know you. You were just his matchmaker, destined to bring him and the girl he truly wanted together.

“Leave me here to drown.”

Sakura sighs heavily, turning to Yuqi for help. The blonde shrugs like this is something completely out of her jurisdiction. With another grunt of exertion, she tries to get you out of the pool again.

“I don’t wanna stay here any longer if you’re just gonna mope around and suck the fun out of everything.” Sakura deadpans, holding the heel of her palm to her forehead.

You don’t make any move to get up, floating on your back and staring up at the sky. Your eyes cast a backward glance at an upside down visual of Tzuyu and Juyeon at the other end of the pool. She’s sitting on the edge, her feet in the water while he’s fully submerged— his arms resting on the concrete surrounding. The two are immersed in a conversation about something you can’t hear. He worked up the courage to talk to her earlier in the night and you’d effectively lost his attention since.

The drink Yuqi had just brought you was downed in an instant and you found yourself asking for another. She raised an eyebrow at the insistence, but made it anyway. There was no way you could make it through the night sober. Not at this rate.

“Do you think now’s a good time to make my impression?” Juyeon turns to you when his friends have gone off to mingle.

You flicker your gaze to him, his focus still on Tzuyu. She looked gorgeous in the bright blue strapless one piece she was wearing, a section of the side cut out. You’d always thought Chou Tzuyu was a pretty girl. She had long, shiny hair and a sparkling smile that reached her eyes, anyone who could see had the potential to fall in love with her upon first sight.

The way Juyeon watches her, like she was the reason the sun was in the sky, made this growing ache inside of you expand. Getting your heart broken intentionally was one kind of pain. But unrequited love was another. It was one that you’d never wish on your worst enemy— no matter if they made your life a living hell.

You weren’t here to be a Debbie-Downer. You had a job to do and because it was for him, you were going to try to do your best.

With the biggest fake smile you can muster, you nod. “I think so. I can send someone to distract her friends so you can get her alone?”

“That would be great, Y/N,” he turns to you with that special grin of his. “Thank you.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you give him another faux smile and a thumbs up, shoo-ing him off to her. Heavy feet drag you over to Kevin (who knows everyone) and you convince him to do your bidding. When you tell him why, he immediately agrees— most likely out of pity.

“You know, Juyeon’s never really been the type to express actual feelings for a girl,” Jacob speaks up when he sees you standing alone, crossing his arms over his chest. “This whole Tzuyu thing is actually the first time I’ve seen him show that side of himself. I guess it must be more than a silly crush.”

You’re not sure what you should make of this revelation. You’re not even sure why Jacob is telling you this as you overlook Juyeon sitting himself beside her. He sticks his hand out and you assume it’s to introduce himself. The conversation only continues from there.

“Luckily for him, I’m the best in the business. I’ll do whatever I can to get him a happy ending.” You force yourself to stare at the drink in your hands instead. Jacob hums in acknowledgement.

You know you should be overjoyed that he was finally able to go up to her. You should be jumping for the moon. But you don’t have it in you to even be slightly interested. It hurts you way too much to see him laughing and smiling with someone else.

Granted, you never spoke to him yourself until he came to you for your expertise. You only recently started to get to know each other and it was exciting, though the reasoning behind it was less than. How were you supposed to put your whole heart into helping him get with the girl of his dreams if he was the boy of yours?

The water splashes around you as you switch to a standing position. You ignore Yuqi and Sakura’s questioning, scrambling out of the pool. All of your stuff was left with the guys, who were sitting on some lounge chairs nearby and drinking. You grab your stuff without a word and throw on your dress. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the front porch, dialing the only number you know by memory.

Sakura was right. You were sucking the fun out of everything. But you couldn’t just ask them to leave, especially not when they hardly enjoyed themselves.

“Hello?”

“Minho? Are you awake?” You chew on your bottom lip, kicking a pebble with your haphazardly put on wedge.

“Yeah? It’s only like 11PM, what’s up?” He asks into the receiver. You hear some shuffling on the other side, which was probably him moving around in his bed. The sound of something playing on the TV is muffled in the background.

“Do you think you could get me from the Tau Psi Zeta house? I wanna leave, but I don’t wanna make everyone else leave too.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Just send me your location. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” Minho says and you hear more shuffling.

“Thank you, Min,” you bite your cheek. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, I promise. I’ll see you soon.”

‘Soon’ is 10 minutes later when you recognize his car rolling to a stop in front of the sorority house. The moment your seatbelt is buckled, the tears start flowing. You wanted to hold them back the entire night and even during the phone call, but something about the comforting scent of Minho’s car broke you. Your eyes felt like a flood gate reaching its limit, letting it all burst through.

Lee Minho never knew what to do when it came to seeing his friends cry. Especially not you, the most headstrong girl he’s ever known. But seeing you so distraught tugged at his heartstrings and he instinctively went to rub at your back. He didn’t care if he had to sit here for 2 minutes or 20, as long as you got to let it all out.

Once your sobbing has simmered to sniffles, you wipe your nose and lean into your seat with a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

PREV ₊˚⊹ NINETEEN — Blocked and Reported for threatening language

NEXT ₊˚⊹ TWENTY ONE — men against song yuqi

MASTERLIST

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TAGLIST ₊˚⊹ @matchaoreocrepes @maessseongs @tannieflix @winterchimez @kyusqult

#the boyz #the boyz smau #tbz #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

[rotworld]

7: Metamorphosis

(previous)

the girl goes home. you visit an old friend.

->sexually suggestive. contains mild gore, ear penetration, terato, mentions of drugging, mentions of child trafficking and child abuse.

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The last leg of the journey is always a thing of wonder. You unfold your crumpled, egg-stained map and marvel at the neatness of the reality, the momentary certainty of things. This is the understanding you carved out in a corner of the world. This is how far you’ve come. The Drift is mercurial. It won’t last. These cities will have scattered again, these roads you thought you knew winding in strange, new ways. But for now, for just a moment, you bask in a sense of wearied accomplishment. You are still here, despite everything. 

There were tears this morning. Albie drew a map of his own depicting his family’s corner of Verlinda, landmarks painstakingly rendered in colored pencils scribbles and labeled with shaky letters. A little cottage in the forest, surrounded by trees, bordered by a stream and many smiling animals, is labeled “MY HOUSE.” He wanted to make sure the girl would be able to find her way back someday. She has it on her lap, neatly folded, clutched in her small hands. 

“It’s close,” you tell her. 

She watches the scenery with rapt attention, memorizing every detail. “Close,” she agrees, glancing at you in surprise. “How know?” 

“See the dirt? It’s kind of a reddish color. And that spicy-sweet smell is from the mulberry gardens.” The sign is just over the hill, exactly as you remember it; a metal slab suspended between old wooden posts, bearing elegant lettering and a curling ribbon design. “Welcome to Compass Hill,” it says, and your heart beats faster in recognition, anticipation and dread. “I grew up here,” you add softly. 

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: HOW YOU REMEMBER BY AZURE RAY]

Roads into Compass Hill are long, decorated promenades of flattened cobblestone and stately scenery. Here is the visitor’s center, glass-paneled and flower-filled like a Victorian greenhouse. There is a lakeside sculpture garden with abstract figures and lanterns dotting the winding footpath. In the distance, the city’s crown jewel, a sprawling campus of red brick cathedrals—the head office and processing factory of Compass Hill Textiles.

“This used to be an awful place,” you say. “Someone might tell you the story later. Not to scare you, but because you should know. People would bring children of the road here because the company would pay them for it.”

You slow as you drive past the textiles building. They’ve kept it maintained, you notice, maybe to avoid suspicion. The lawn is trimmed, the hedges bordering the path up to the front steps neatly manicured. There’s a water fountain with an angel perched on top. The plaque set into the stone commemorates an ancient patriarch of the Dewitt family, a name emblazoned all over town. It was the Dewitts who built the mill, after all, a dynasty of textile magnates made wealthy by the harvest and refinement of exquisite silks. 

You point to the factory. “I used to live there. It looks nice from outside, but most of the space is for machinery. Rows and rows of rattling, whirring things that took up whole rooms. The kids who couldn’t weave slept in the cramped, overheated basement, right under all the noise. Eventually, we’d get our license and start delivering silk.” The girl studies the building with a small frown. “It’s different now,” you assure her. “The factory’s closed. Nobody has to sleep on a concrete floor anymore.”

There’s a gate just beyond the factory. Curling wrought iron arches form symmetrical shapes where they meet, an insectoid body with large, sweeping wings. You can hear something just faintly; a buzzing hum. A faraway melody. The gates pull apart with a loud metallic clattering, welcoming you inside. In your rearview mirror, you see a large shape on the roof of the old textile factory. It crouches, spreads its wings, and flits away. The girl sits up sharply, startled and curious. 

“Probably went to tell everyone we’re here,” you say.

“Everyone?” she asks. Something catches her eye and she turns back towards the window, her eyes widening.

“Everyone. You’re home.” 

Beyond the gate is the true, new Compass Hill, built on the bones of the old. Structures are soft and rounded rather than angular, wispy, cloud-like material woven across the city skyline. Gossamer threads sparkle in dazzling neon shades and subdued earth tones alike. The schoolhouse is a powdery blue dome with rocks and flowers woven around the entrance, while the open air marketplace is adorned with rippling canopy shades and decorative arches. Everything is silk as only Compass Hill knows it, exquisite color and unbelievably versatile texture. 

But the girl isn’t looking at the buildings. She’s looking at the people. Peering through honeycomb windows and ambling into the street, a crowd gathers, curiously chittering, all around your car. You stop in the middle of the road to let them see her, and for her to see them. Scaled skin and shimmering carapaces, wings and claws and softly clicking mandibles, bristle-thin hairs and thick, curly manes. The people of Compass Hill are as varied as the silk they spin. A child with slender vespid wings and gangly, striped arms comes right up to the window and the girl stares back at her with tears filling her four eyes. 

“Home!” she wails. “Home! Home!” You unlock the door and she tumbles into the waiting arms of family she has only dreamed of. A woman, pale pink and violet with a mantis’ tapered abdomen and sharp, hooked fingers, gently works the knots from the girl’s hair. The hum rises, louder now, a gentle, rolling melody of a thousand voices harmonizing. It’s the Song, welcoming you both. When you step out of the car, you’re swarmed with gentle touches and fond nuzzling. 

“You’re back.”  There’s a pleased purring beside your ear as four soft, lightly furred arms encircle you from behind. You recognize her quiet, higher-pitched notes before you see her. Chiffon is one of the oldest weavers in Compass Hill, her great wings as thick and heavy as a blanket. She slips in front of you, taking each of your hands in hers, the other two free to cup your face. Her four eyes arch in worry. “Where have you been? And where are you going?” 

“I’ll have to show you my map. It’s been a long trip,” you say. Chiffon chitters with laughter, a sound echoed all the way down the street as she passes the joke through the Song. “And I don’t know where I’m going yet. I was in a hurry to get here before the next shift.” 

“Your hand…” She’s gentle with it, fingers worrying the skin all around your bandages. “I’ll have a look at this later. You’ll stay the night. Rest. He’ll be so happy to see you.” Your smile wanes. Chiffon squeezes your hands, reassuring but also pleading. “Please,” she sings softer. “Please go see him.”

You hear a delighted warble, the melody rising. The girl looks startled, clutching a wad of fresh, glistening silk in her hand, small string still connected to her mouth. The color is like a sunrise, a blue ombre glinting with strands of gold. One of the old weavers bends down and shows her how to braid it, tying off the ends so it doesn’t fray. “That’s hopesilk,” he says, pausing his singing so she can understand him. “Very strong, and very pretty. Someone believes in you very much.” 

You wipe at your eyes and nod at Chiffon. The crowd parts for the two of you as a slow, undulating note enters the Song, a bittersweet melody. They’ve missed you. They wish you’d stay. 

The Dewitt estate is at the very edge of town. Similar grand manors and luxurious homes dot the hills but the others are old, fallen into disrepair. The fences have crumbled, the stately brickwork has eroded, and mulberry branches snake out of the broken windows. They are Verlinda’s by right but remain, dilapidated and unoccupied, out of respect for the children of Compass Hill and everything they have endured.

It is only the Dewitt estate, all the way at the top of the hill, that is still maintained. Someone cuts the grass and trims the hedges. Someone fixes the roof when it leaks. Someone leaves food at the door. As you get closer, you hear a piercing scream from somewhere inside. “How is he?” you ask. 

Chiffon feels your worry. She chirps a Song of one, fluttering and bird-like. “He’s…better, I think. He spends less and less time here.” She stops when you reach the front porch of the manor. Her wings are drooping, the larger ones folded around her like a shawl. “But he’s still…well. It’s rather shocking inside.” 

You march up the steps before you can lose your nerve. There’s another scream—fearful, but also furious. You thought it was just mindless shrieking before but now you can make out words, “wretched” and “ungrateful” and “horrible, abominable thing.” The door is cracked open. The foyer is a mess of broken glass and overturned furniture, old blood stains crusted into the carpet and stuck to the wallpaper. A silver platter has been flung against the wall, shattering a plate and splattering mashed potatoes and a chunk of cooked meat. 

There is a man standing in the middle of the foyer, chest heaving and red in the face, screaming at something in the corner. You recognize Mr. Dewitt. He looks more sickly than you recall, sweat shining on his gaunt face. You’ve caught him in the middle of a tirade not unlike the ones you remember from childhood. He was always short-tempered, liable to fly into a rage at the slightest inconvenience. “I want to see my son! You can’t keep him from me! Just you wait, just you wait until they hear about this down at the factory!”

He whirls around at the sound of your footsteps and his wide, bloodshot eyes brighten. “Oh! Oh, it’s you!” he calls, grinning deliriously. His eyes are hazy and he’s not quite looking at you. He wobbles forward, looking inebriated. “You’ve come at the perfect time! I need to get a message down to the factory. Good practice for a courier, hm? Some incompetent let one of the weavers cocoon itself and now we’re stuck with this.” He gestures to the corner, the thing looming there silently. “It’s making demands. Can you tell them to send someone?” 

You hesitate just a second too long and he’s screaming again, berating you, calling you a stupid, useless road-mongrel. The thing in the corner lunges forward then, faster than you can see it move. There’s a rush of air and a flash of movement. It lands heavily on top of the man, slamming his head into the floor. It’s your friend, the boy who grew up in this awful place with you. Older now, much bigger, casting a wide shadow with his wings outstretched. You see him tangle his claws in the man’s thinning hair, yanking his head higher. You see him lean in, proboscis unfurling. 

“Hello,” he sings. Four eyes peer at you beneath stark white fringe. In adulthood, the silver ones have also turned deep, inky black. “Hello again. I was just thinking of you.”

His proboscis plunges forward like a needle and there’s a sickening crunch and a spurt of blood as it pierces Dewitt’s ear. He shakes and flails uncontrollably, mouth stretched open in a horrified, silent scream, but your friend holds him still; one hand on his head, one on his shoulder, the others easily keeping him pinned beneath the weight of his enormous body. Your friend, the Singer of Compass Hill, vibrates with a welcoming melody, his wings flapping in contentment. His proboscis goes taut and there’s a sick, slurping sound, another gush of blood dribbling down Dewitt’s face and neck.

“Why…is he…?” You swallow your revulsion. The Singer tilts his head slightly, the change in angle churning and squishing wetly against something in Dewitt’s head. The vibration of the song drones just louder than the gurgling screams Dewitt makes.

“He’s drugged. Not certain where or when he is. It’s the same thing he used to give me and all the others.” The Singer’s primary eyes are focused on feeding, but the smaller secondary ones rotate, fixed on you. “You don’t feel bad for him, do you?”

“I’m worried about you.” 

The Singer drops Dewitt, proboscis yanking loose with a wet, ripping sound and slithering back into his mouth. He came out of his cocoon differently than all the others. No one else has emerged quite so large. His frilled antenna scrape the high ceiling, his legs bend strangely, and he has six long arms. A ring of thick, white fur circles his neck and drapes over his shoulders. There’s similar patches of fuzz all the way down his body, thinning out across his belly and limbs. His fingers are long and dexterous, warm when they reach out and graze your cheek. 

His eyes have changed the least. There are mandibles on either side of his jaw, pearl-white and flexible, a proboscis curled up inside his mouth, but you’ll always recognize his eyes, no matter the color. 

“Is he dead?” you say quietly, staring at the body lying limp and face-down on the carpet. 

“No. I won’t let him die yet.” The Singer takes your hand in three of his. He turns it over, letting out a low hum in concern at the sight of bandages, the missing finger. “I’ll keep him here, just like I was kept. Except he has the luxury of a house when all I had was that cramped cell in the mountage wing of the factory, a bedroom shaped like a coffin. I’ll use him as he used me, without remorse. He can die when I have nothing to gain from him anymore.” 

You tug on his arm, pulling him down to kneel in front of you, and embrace him. The Singer rests his chin and mandibles on your shoulders. His hands all knead the front of your shirt, just like when he was a boy. “I came here to complete a delivery,” you admit. “It’s a child. This is her home.” 

The Singer hums appreciatively, nuzzling against your neck. “Yes. Good. I heard the Song. She’ll be safe here. She’ll decide what to do with her own silk. No one will keep her from cocooning and growing up.” His proboscis darts out, tasting the sweat on your throat. “Hope…savory. She grazed on this. You fed her well. There’s more hope here, as much as she could ever want.”

You rub his mandibles and he purrs. “You can have some, if you want. Hope, and whatever else I have.” You feel the vibration of the Song gone slow and deep with interest. He flicks one of his mandibles against your lips, tempted. “You have to eat something other than grudges,” you say gently. 

“I can’t stomach much else. But…” He crouches further, pulling you into his lap. You’re settled on one of his thighs, half-turned away from him. He brushes your hair out of the way and caresses the shell of your ear, stroking the lobe with his thumb. “I’ll go very slow. Very gentle. It’s been a long time.” 

Now that you’re actually here, clutching the fur on his upper chest, your stomach is flipping nervously. He’s right, it has been a long time. You haven’t fed him since you were both younger, shortly after the change came—he, young and clumsy and still figuring out his new, enormous body, and you, just old enough to drive the Drift. One more time, you’d agreed, before you left town. He couldn’t make silk anymore but it didn’t matter. He just needed to remember how you tasted.

“Hold onto me,” he sings gently. “It’s alright. Hold on tight. You won’t hurt me.” You don’t want to pull on his fur but he pushes your hands more firmly against his chest, encouraging you to dig your fingers in. He clutches your shoulders, your waist, your hips—his grip firm but not bruising. He tries to relax you. He nuzzles against you, splays his mandibles and leaves little kisses along your chin and cheek. His proboscis darts out and flicks against your lips, teasing. He trails higher, following the curve of your jaw. 

Your breath hitches when he reaches your ear. He kisses it. His proboscis traces the shell, explores its shallow dips and grooves. Slowly, he lick his way closer to the hole and you let out an involuntary shiver. His hands squeeze all at once in reassurance and hold you still.

“Will you give me something sweet? Something light and airy?” One of the hands on your hip moves inward. Long, graceful fingers slip into your pants and settle on your heated sex. He traces one fingertip slowly up and down, faint and featherlight. Your hips chase the friction. That’s the moment he’s waiting for. You feel his proboscis, cold and smooth, slip easily into your ear canal. 

True to his word, he’s slow and gentle. The penetration is a gradual slide, navigating impossibly small spaces to lap at something not entirely physical, nestled at the intersection of thought, feeling and memory. You feel it like the wet slide of a tongue against some place sensitive and you stiffen, eyes rolling back in your head. It’s too much—too much something. Not quite pain or pleasure, not quite anything you can name. But it’s too much. Explosive heat and sandpaper on your nerves, an avalanche of overstimulation. 

The hand between your legs barely moves. It’s just two fingers, slender and nimble, rubbing so, so slowly. Up and down. Up and down. Your underwear is damp with your own want and he collects it on his fingertips, uses it to lubricate his steady rhythm. He strokes you right to the edge of madness, crooning softly. You feel the Song behind your eyes, in your brain. You feel all the love it carries.

Your hips jolt and your flinch violently in his grasp. You gasp, or maybe you scream. Your throat is raw when you drift back down into awareness, feeling his proboscis snaking back out and exit with a faint, wet pop. Soothing liquid dribbles out of your ear in his wake, something to numb soreness. You sag against him and catch your breath. He trills, smoothing his palms up and down your body. The hand between your legs comes out of your clothes glistening and sticky.

“What was it?” you asked. Your words are slurred, your tongue still clumsy. “Wh—what’d you taste?” 

He wipes the excess fluid from your chin, pressing one last kiss to your ear. It’s starting to tingle. “Nostalgia. Exhaustion. Hope. And…” He pauses, turning your face towards him. “You’ve been having nightmares.”

He lets you avoid the subject and bury your face in his fur. He Sings, swaying gently. You shut your eyes and left your mind drift. Tomorrow, you’ll be leaving. Maybe you can deliver silk, just like the old days—but this silk will be better than Dewitt’s ever was. Made by children who are happy, woven by adults who care about them. Tomorrow, you and the girl will have to say your goodbyes, and you know she’ll ask you about home because she’s kind. And you will smile and lie or maybe say nothing at all, happy for her but stinging with agonizing envy. 

“You could stay,” goes the Song, every time you hear it. “Make this home.”

You don’t answer. You never do. The Singer holds you while he still has the chance.

(next)

#rotpeach writes #goretober #the drift #ive had a couple anons mention theyre reading or rereading ritsukas pictures lately #im so glad youre enjoying it!! ;v; that story has a special place in my heart

[piraticusdorm]

Snappea

Content Warnings: Mention of Roland's past, crack.

Roland had nightmares, sure. Everyone in his line of work did.

Being a detective meant that not only did he see gruesome scenes, but it was his job to investigate and memorize them to the smallest detail, to put himself in the shoes of monsters in order to apprehend them. He switched to working for the education bureau hoping to escape those demons while still doing good, but evil lurks everywhere. 

Out of the array of nightmares he had during the years, about past cases, about inner demons, ghosts haunting him… Of them all, this was by far the most awful nightmare yet.

“Have you heard about the patient who got his left arm and left leg amputated?”

The round shape in front of him was a vibrant green, full of life and energy. Despite having no mouth it spoke in a mocking voice, waving a microphone with its gangly short limbs.

“Well, he’s all right now!”

The audience of identical figures erupted in laughter. Stoic as ever Roland stood his ground, though shakily. A phobia. That’s all it was, really. Not in the sense it scared him, but the irrational profound disgust it gave him. 

“Hey, did you hear about the scarecrow that won an award?”

Irritation gave way to tiredness, usually. Roland had to look out for his blood pressure at his age. And yet, in that very moment, it only gave way to rage. The words of his mentor came back, about how in this line of work one must face their demons if they hope to last. There was no other way.

“He was outstanding in his fie- eh?”

With sure hands Roland grabbed the green round creature by the sides, and without hesitation, bit on it. It trashed and screamed, more surprised than in pain, but Roland didn’t stop. No. He had survived being shot, curb stomped, even survived his mother’s cooking that would have sent a lesser child, or man, to the hospital. He would not survive hearing another awful jokes amidst the mirthful figures, but he’d survive eating every last one of them.

…

Morning came soon enough. An early start for Roland, as always. Being an undercover agent paid well, but required dedication. Lady Mathilda remained asleep next to him, in her high brand luxury cat bed with victorian style lace trimmed blankets, only of the finest quality.

And next to her peaceful figure, a single green gem rolled out.

It was with such force that Roland threw the blasted gem away that it sank onto his garden, forming a small crater. His body was full of energy but his mind hardly felt rested. Still, the day goes on, and he has a crow to spy on and overblots to try and prevent.

After a year, when spring came, a single green stalk bloomed from a small crater in his garden.

#this one goes out to nico #anyways. context is roland is twst from ros from monsters inc. ✌ #peaceful shadows #roland #other ocs

[peakyblindersxx]

now i cant stop thinking about breeding kink w Tommy since yesterday, ive never expected to like it so much but now all i think about is like a reader that wants to have a baby but Tommy's like "not now, its not the right time"etc but one day when he sees esme pregnant and john happy or something like that he decides to change his mind and get his wife pregnant too lmao i mean if youd want to write that then id die happily but if not its fine omg

a/n: soo, i made this fic tommy x wife!reader (cause i’m a sucker for tommy being soft for you & only you. can you blame me) and i fucking loved writing it, especially since i’m rewatching and s1 tommy has me all the way absolutely fucked up (not even gonna talk about john cause i’ll probably die). ngl there’s not much plot but it’s still cute imo, hope you like it!!

love, abi xxx

give you what you need - tommy shelby x wife!reader

warnings: nsfw! smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, just a whole lot of filth but i mean it’s tommy what can i say

Esme was waddling. Her stomach protruded from her body so far she could barely even get her arms around her stomach anymore. “Just what we need, another fuckin’ kid,” John had griped, but you could see his ocean blue eyes sparkling with adoration every time she shuffled into the room. In all truthfulness, you were a bit jealous. You’d broached the subject of children with Tommy before, but it was always met with resistance. You understood where he was coming from; he didn’t want to expose them to the life you were living. Yet, beneath it all, you knew what a good father he’d make. You saw through to his tenderness: the gentleness in his voice when he cared for a sick horse; the fierceness with which he protected Finn. Tommy didn’t like to admit it, but he was kind to those who were vulnerable.

Yet, something had changed in the way that Tommy was looking at you, crystal clear blue eyes fixed on your figure. You liked it when he looked at you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Was it so wrong to crave someone’s attention like this? You wouldn’t know, unable to control yourself when it came to him. It was ridiculous, how he could rile you up with just a look. Was he really thinking about you underneath him? Right here, in the middle of John’s living room?

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” Tommy leaned close to you, mouth hovering next to your ear. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, mingling with yours. That combined with the smell of his cologne was sending you into a tizzy, the gin and tonics you’d consumed adding to the problem. 

“What’s wrong, Tom?” You questioned, eyes looking up at him. He chuckled.

“Nothing's wrong, darlin’. Just been out all day, yeah? S’gettin late,” Tommy drawled, lips brushing against the skin of your neck. His eyes said everything his mouth didn’t. 

“Alright,” you relented with a soft smile, letting him tug you towards the door, giving a hurried goodbye to his other brothers. People stared, but didn’t dare say anything. Who would?

Tommy had the two of you home in less than ten minutes. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew what was on his mind from the way he had pressed you against the car, nipping lightly at your neck before he opened your door for you with a devilish smirk. God, he made your head spin. It wasn’t long before he had his hands on you again, broad shoulders flexing as he carried you up the stairs, grinning cheekily at your laughter before closing the bedroom door behind you and immediately boxing you in against it, his calloused hands slipping under your flimsy peach dress. You whimpered, earning a chuckle from him as his lips grazed your collarbone, breath hot against your skin. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you being as pregnant as Esme was,” Tommy groaned, hiking up your dress as he took the chance to press his cock against your core, hard and thick through his dress pants. “How fuckin’ angelic you’d look, belly full with my child.” 

You couldn’t help your reaction to the words spilling out of his mouth, hips bucking slightly against him as you reached down to free his cock from its confines, savoring its heaviness in your hand as you guided him towards your already wet heat. Was it wrong to want this as badly as you did?

“Want you to fill me up, Daddy,” you moaned, the fond nickname having the effect you wanted as Tommy practically growled, making quick work of the peach number, revealing the white lace lingerie set you wore underneath. He couldn’t help but stop and stare, in an attempt to memorize just how gorgeous you looked, begging for him, of all people. “Want you to put a baby in me.”

Tommy snapped. In an instant, you were on the bed, legs flung over his shoulders as he pressed himself into you, your dripping core stretching at the girth of him. You couldn’t help the obscene mewl you let out, Tommy reveling in your desperate state. He quickly picked up the pace, cock bumping up against your cervix in a depravedly sweet sense of fullness. 

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? Don’t worry, darlin’, Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Give you just what you need, aye?” He crooned, tone deceivingly sweet for the filth that was pouring out of his perfectly shaped lips. His thrusts grew faster, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head as whimpers poured out of your mouth. Tommy savored each one, taking pleasure in the way you were writhing so beautifully underneath him, toes curling when you came. He couldn’t help but capture your lips with his, reveling in the way you moaned into his mouth when he fucked himself into you. You were a fucking vision, and you were his. He was going to make sure everyone knew it. 

“Tommy, please…” You were so far gone, you couldn’t finish your sentence. Tommy had already fucked you through four orgasms, pace relentless, and he wasn’t letting up. You almost thought he enjoyed seeing you like this: needy, touch starved for him and only him.

“Please what, angel?” Tommy murmured into your ear, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as he brushed against your g-spot. 

“N-need you to come in me, Daddy,” you managed to get out, vision hazy as you felt your fifth orgasm approaching. 

“Poor baby, want me to fill you up ‘till you’re leakin’, don’t you?” Tommy’s eyes were dark as he watched you nod and squirm, filling you to the hilt as your nails scratched at his biceps. His words themselves almost made you cum again, pussy squeezing around his throbbing cock. Tommy’s mouth met yours in a bruising kiss as he fucked you as hard as humanly possible, sending stars across your vision. He chased your orgasm with his, leaving the insides of your thighs sticky. He couldn’t help but admire his work, a blush spreading across your cheeks as he took his time in drinking you in. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful when you come,” he drawled, reaching for a rag to clean you with. Before he could lift you up and carry you to the bath, you stopped him. 

“Doctor says I should lay on my back for twenty minutes. Helps the chances of the baby forming, or something.”

Tommy wasted no time in closing the space between the two of you once more. “I swear, you’re from heaven.”

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby masterlist

[backandimbamon]

Bonnie playing with Damon's hair and he all sleepy 😊

this really took a while because… i was going to stop at the first half but i wanted to consider Bonnie’s perspective (: and then it got a lil spicy and i was like *sigh* why must you always take it there? but i mean- 👁- i always take it there because we were robbed!!! Damon is practically a self proclaimed sex god and i hate how they separated Bonnie from her sexuality, or really any form of intimacy for sooo long. and the scraps we got were NEVER enough. okay anyways yeah i’m finally done, like let’s get into it.

Damon notices that Bonnie touches him sparingly and really not because she wants to but because it happens accidentally every now and then, one of the perks about frequently invading her space.

Being stuck on the other side, there is less room for her and more for him, she’s in his world now which means it’s his duty to make her feel as uncomfortably comfortable as possible.

He notices everything; how her cheeks turn red when their knuckles brush against one another’s, how she takes in an exasperated little breath when their shoulders touch, how she rolls her eyes when he stands entirely too close. Damon hangs on to these moments because this may be his only form of female contact he’ll receive for a very, very, long time.

That is the only reason he hangs on.

Anytime she touches him intentionally, he feels a pride swell deep in his chest that he’s liked by Bonnie after a rocky road of ups and downs, fussing and fighting, he is finally deemed worthy enough for her to care about him even if it’s brief, even if it’s the smallest skin to skin contact imaginable.

And yes, he cares because if he has to spend the rest of eternity with one person, they might as well get along.

Movie night comes around so he rests his head in her lap, testing the waters, to see how she will respond to him. He senses her tense up a bit as predicted, but then she relaxes into it breath by breath like she’s doing a tricky yoga pose.

Bonnie’s body lotion makes her skin smell edible- cocoa and honey- she’ll never know but that’s why he nicknames her Bon Bon, she always smells good enough to eat. At this point, Damon can’t recall the VHS movie on the block of a television, his focus has been robbed by Bonnie and this new form of contact she allows him to try. Half of his smile sinks into the cotton of her leggings.

Her eyes never leave the screen when she laces her fingers through his hair, nails surfing through tufts of raven-black and the gesture is so shocking and embarrassingly arousing that a strangled groan gets trapped in his throat.

She panics, and he can tell by the change in her heart rate before saying. “Did I hurt you?” He has to clear his throat to speak.

“Hmmm mm, feels good,” he mumbles feigning casual so she can’t realize how he needs this so so bad that he’s fearful of it being taken away. In his mind he thinks about what if.

What if she wakes up and decides she doesn’t want to tap dance on the line between what is and isn’t acceptable for two best friends. What if she remembers that he’s actually a terrible person who has done horrendous things to her and everyone she’s ever loved.

She shouldn’t like him or try not to laugh at his jokes. Not at all. Bonnie should’ve killed him a long, long time ago because if anyone could do it, it’d be her. He can see her now, all badass and angry with a wooden stake in her hand, vengeance in her eyes, the very last thing he’d see before his lights went out forever.

Bonnie, the giver and the taker.

Bonnie, the only god he knew.

Damon finds himself thinking so intensely lately that he checks the mirror more often than not to make sure he has no brooding lines like his little brother. Stefan’s expansive forehead has the room for it, his perfectly shaped forehead does not.

She laces her fingers back through his hair again and his eyes flutter, that’s how good it feels. It’s sensational. And while he’s had his hair pulled in and out of the bedroom, the innocence of her touch makes him want to melt. He finds his lids growing heavier, like how they used to do a century-and-a-half ago when he was human.

Running through dandelion fields in the overbearing Virginia heat, the sun up above sending heavy gusts of sunshine beams, a moment he considers to be oppressive now, used to be magical then- miraculous -and despite sweating through his britches and overcoat he never cared enough to stop running through the fields. The sun was the greatest thing all those years ago, back when white was his favorite color.

And after drawing a long, hot bath, he’d sink deep into the water while the bubbles floated to the top. Damon would close his eyes, hold his breath, see if he could break his prior record. Then he’d get out and the sleep would welcome him like any drowsy being, with open arms. And there he’d fall.

Bonnie has that affect on him. She makes him think of home, his past, when times were simpler and he was human.

He feels that exhausted sometimes, a boy who’s never stopped running through dandelion fields, whether it snows or rains or burns him alive. Her fingernails rake through his scalp- orange leaves on browning grass. Ruining Stefan’s piles for the fun of it. His lids droop. Tired of being consumed by himself, by Bonnie, he admits defeat this time. When he finally drifts off, he remembers that the Virginia heat gave him this same warm and fuzzy feeling inside.

“You really don’t know how good this feels,” his final words are hoarse before he drifts off but the last thing he sees is Bonnie.

The giver and the taker, the only god he knows.

.

Bonnie refuses to relish in the magic of the moment, the fact that it’s so rare Damon ever completely lets his guard down around her. She can always feel his eyes on her, constantly watching because Damon has a presence that’s inescapable.

Being so close to him when he’s extremely vulnerable makes her realize that in all facets, he’s stunning. A stunning that’s almost suffocating but with the dynamic they possess, he only needs to know that he’s not that much of an eye sore.

Now, she stares with wide eyes while she can, memorizes the smooth expanse of skin, every strand of dark hair. Relishes in the feel of his arms around her waist, the weight of his head in her lap. It’s been a long time since she’s felt a body besides her own and as much as she likes to ignore the fact, she has needs, needs that have swelled from being in the presence of Damon for too long.

He’s sexy without any effort, she examines. His dark t-shirt has risen and his pants are low enough that she observes the waistline of (silk?) boxers, taut muscle, navel, happy trail, yeah. Bonnie drinks him in like a cool glass of milk before bedtime- never has this much pretty been in her lap before. Her hands find their way in his head again, tousles through and he nuzzles up against her in his sleep. It’s difficult to pull her eyes away from him, but when she does, the credits are rolling on the screen.

This is Damon she’s thinking about like this, her best friend and also her first best friend’s boyfriend. She repeats it again, not satisfied that the guilt isn’t drowning her like it sometimes does when she catches herself lingering on his attractiveness for too long but Mystic Falls, the real Mystic Falls seems so far away. Elena, Caroline, Matt, Alaric, her old life just seems unattainable, no bigger than a memory she occasionally mistakes for a bad dream.

There’s no denying that being away from it all, here with Damon as the only other person in the world, she feels…safe. Maybe even protected, it’s a stark contrast from the real Mystic Falls where her life is always on the line.

Bonnie starts to get up when she feels his hold on her tighten to prevent her from moving away. They play tug of war for a bit but she eventually stops fighting because Damon is a vampire after all, physical strength is going to get her nowhere. “Fine,” she grumbles, then plops down which causes the end of her top to ride up enough that she can feel the press of Damon’s nose on the curve of her waist. Despite trying to inch her shirt back down, she has no luck. Naturally Damon doesn’t mind.

He inhales her skin deeply, makes a sound of approval before groggily muttering, “Going topless now, are we Judgey?”

She grabs his hair again, yanks his head back as a rebuttal, and Damon bites his tongue so hard that it bleeds. He has to ensure that all of the blood in his body isn’t rushing south too fast but unfortunately, he would have to sever both his arms completely off to stop the blood flow.

Bonnie realizes the dazed look in his eyes isn’t one of pain nor is it from sleep, “Not the reaction you expected, huh?” He asks, gesturing for her to look down but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s embarrassed, and to make matters worse, a teensy bit turned on.

“You scared, Bon Bon? I thought you were big and bad,” Damon mocks, pulling between his legs to make more room in his jeans, “it’s okay. I know Jeremy left much to be desired.” He sits up with swirls of longing still in his eyes, then grabs a pillow to place in his lap.

“Scared?” She guffaws. “Of what exactly?”

“Me…You.”

“And that means?”

“You’re a smart girl, Bon, figure it out.” Damon taunts, holding her eyes with his. “It’s awfully lonely here.”

She says nothing for a while, refusing to break eye contact first. “So.”

“Soooo, I won’t tell if you won’t.” It’s almost a joke, almost because she has a feeling if she says yes to whatever sort of ambiguous proposal he’s thrown up in the air, there won’t be any laughter. If she says no, it’s no different from his usual innuendos but boy, will she wonder.

“Wanna take a walk on the wild side?” He asks in a singsong tone, eyes dropping to her lips then back up to her eyes.

There are no alarms, no cell phones, no one here that can interrupt this moment. She has to answer, though she has no idea what will come out of her mouth. Bonnie shuts her eyes to make the moment less real, as if it will change the fact that she whispers, “Just one kiss,”

They’re nose to nose when Damon whispers back, “a peck.”

She swallows his breath. “Mhmm,”

“It’s nothing,”

“Nothing.”

“As light as air,” he presses his lips to hers for a brief moment then pulls back again. “See.” He peppers more kisses on her lips, down her jaw, the side of her neck, but they’re heavier. They have a density now. His tongue is on the flesh of her shoulder, teasing up her neck. She feels the light imprint of sharp canines, arousal surges through her like a power circuit, so intense that she moans. When he makes his way back up, their mouths both open in a feral kiss that robs them of air.

Bonnie holds his face in place though he makes no attempt to move away. The pillow falls out from between them when he grabs Bonnie’s leg to straddle him.

It’s nothing.

Nothing separating them from attacking each other’s mouths, nothing stopping Damon from gripping his best friend’s hips, nothing saving Bonnie from discarding his shirt.

His skin is cool enough that she can stream together some thought in between relentless kisses. “Damon,” she tries her best to sound admonishing.

“Please, not right now.” Damon cuffs both her wrists behind her with one hand and plants a hickey just above her cleavage. She sees stars. He already knows what the inflection in her voice means- the timing couldn’t be worse.“Let’s save the guilt for tomorrow morning.” His tone is octaves lower, almost as low as his lids. He drags his eyes up to hers, and they’re so shiny she can see her reflection. “I need this, Bonnie. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t bother waiting for a response, just continues on with his ministrations, hypnotized by the pheromones seeping off of her in waves, wanting to memorize the scent with his tongue. She whines his name, like actually whines his name, and the feeling that sits in the pit of his stomach scares him. Bonnie is so oblivious to the appeal she carries but if she sat in his skin for a day, hell, for a moment, she would realize just how long she’s been driving him insane.

“We can’t,” she groans weakly. “We can’t.”

Damon tries to breathe easier, but that feeling is lurking in his gut. She’s right. The things he’d do to her, he’d break her in half. He removes Bonnie from his lap, separates from her warmth, her scent. Backs away until the tv threatens to fall off the stand. Everything in him tells him to go back, to reenter the magnetic pull, to poke at her forcefield.

He backs away even further if possible. Her breath catches at the distance.

Bonnie’s cheeks are flushed, warm and red like fruit. If she was an apple, she would have already been eaten down to the core. If she was a peach, it would be easier to explain why he ate her. He thinks to himself that he’s officially off the rails, comparing Bonnie to fruit like he is, but he’s trying to rationalize his irrationality. Because if Bonnie never stopped him, he’d definitely be eating something by now.

“Nothing happened.” She says, ignoring his expression and the silent plea in his eyes.

“Nothing.” He deadpans, throwing his shirt back over his head.

Damon thinks of how different things would be if he had his way. Bonnie, spent, drunk, high off of him. Bleeding and wild, pretty and dangerous, yelling for God. He would plunge Jeremy right out of her, help her find her magic again. Give her everything she could dream of. He gulps.

She doesn’t sleep with him tonight, not in the same bed. She’s on the opposite end of the boarding house when he hears her slide under the covers.

The next morning, he thinks to himself, if she even utters a word about last night, he’ll pick up from where he left off. But she doesn’t, her eyes are far away again, and the only proof he has of their adventures is the wonderful, purple hickey.

When movie night comes back around, his head is in her lap and her hand is back in his hair, running to and fro like him in his lavender fields.

That’s all he gets.

Every now and then, it’s enough.

Bonnie gives and takes, then takes away some more.

She’s the closest thing to God he’ll probably ever know.

#bamon #bamon fanfiction #bamon fanfic #bamon prompt #prompt #my writing #mine #tvd ff #tvd fanfiction #damon salvatore #bonnie bennett #bonnie x damon #damon x bonnie

[ninnosaurus]

Lullaby || Dad!Turts, part 2

AN: OKAY I WROTE THE SECOND PART ALREADY. But like, I already have all of the scenes played out in my head and know exactly what’s going to happen so all I have to do is write them down.

I also kinda picture Raph as a Disney fan. This man loves his Disney and has many of the songs memorized.

Again: Not beta read! Please excuse any errors! The kind of chair he’s sitting in can be seen right here!

I hope you like Dad!Raph 🥰

----

Raphael

It had been a long day that had also been filled with idiot people getting on your nerves. And right now, it was late, and dark. All you wanted to do was get home to your family. You knew Raph was crashing at your place during your workdays, and you couldn't wait to get home to him. 

Arriving at home, you toed your shoes off and kicked them out of the way, heading straight to the shower. Sighing as the warm water hit your skin, this was just what you needed.

After putting your hair in a towel and drying off, you walked into the kitchen to spoon some of the leftovers you saw waiting for you on the stove into your mouth. Raph's cooking had gotten better, you especially loved his lasagna, which you were currently eagerly enjoying in silence.

Wait… silence. 

"Isn't Raph supposed to be here?" You thought to yourself. A small hint of irritation pricking in you as you drank some soda straight from the bottle, you’ve told him before that he needs to let you know if he decides to take her down to the Lair. 

"Hm.", closing the fridge you first look into the livingroom. Finding the TV turned off and void of any turtle.

Out into the hallway you saw a soft light coming from the room furthest down, your bedroom. 

"Ah…", you quietly let out. Someone had probably woken up, signaling for her Shining Knight in Green Armor. 

Tiptoeing down towards the room, you heard him. His voice is dark, somewhat gravely yet soft, and warm. 

He was singing, something that wasn't that odd for him, even though he was more into… the heavier kind, this time is was smooth, and low, almost a whispering tone to it. You figured he was using his churr to lull her back to sleep as he sang lowly.

Arriving at the bedroom door, you lean into the doorframe, looking at them.

"Come stop your crying,  it will be alright.”

Raphael was sitting in the egg shaped chair propped close to the window, wearing a pair of tattered basketball shorts. One leg propped up on the chair using the toe of his other to make the the chair swing in a soothing rhythm.

“Just take my hand, hold it tight" 

His heart swells when the little bundle of sleepiness grips his green finger.

"I will protect you, from all around you.

I will be here, don't you cry." 

He glance up and looks at you, a warm smile dancing on his face before looking down to continue is song when he feels the smallest hand in the world tightens its grip.

"For one so small, you seem so strong.

My arms will hold you, keep you safe and warm.”

He hadn’t really thought much about ever having children, except during his mating season, neither with a human nor - God willing - another mutant, yet here she was. His daughter. To think something so small had captured his heart.

“This bond between us, can't be broken.

I will be here, don't you cry."

The bright green eyes she had from from him locks with his as he brings his beak down to nuzzle her human nose.

'Cause you'll be in my heart. Yes, you'll be in my heart.

From this day on, now and forever more."

All you can do is watch and enjoy the concert. One day when you were flicking through the channels at the Lair, you jerked as Raph told you to stop when he saw the Disney version of “Tarzan” was on. Promptly planting himself on the couch. He later admitted to you that he’d always liked that movie, so hearing him sing this song wasn't a shocker to you.

He might look like the most intimidating of his brothers, but his body inhabitied so much love. 

The chair creaked as he got up. Putting the now sleeping baby down in her crib, he leaned against it, chin resting on his large arms. Just looking at her.

"Oh, You'll be in my heart, no matter what they say.

You'll be here in my heart, Always."

#bayverse #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raph #raphael #tmnt #tmnt raph #bayverse raphael #dad!turtles

[xpeachesncream]

Can i Request a Drabble where Aiko keeps sending taehyung Nudes and the reader gets insecure about her appearance bc of it? She compares herself to Aiko and it makes taehyung upset :/ im not too good with requests sorry if this isn’t clear

perfectly wrong | drabble [11]: it’s the way that she sits pretty with that perfect hourglass shape of hers in her nudes.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, jealousy, insecurities about image/looks

Okay, let's be real. Men love nudes. They all have needs, and they all love marveling at a naked body, especially when it comes unexpectedly. It could be a good, or bad thing. Whatever it is, they love that shit either way. I'm calling a man's bluff if he ever says he didn't enjoy looking at someone's nudes.

Taehyung isn't exempt. It was honestly the biggest highlight when he went on his fuckboy spree. Just the feeling of being wanted so badly that girls would send you nudes to grab your attention. Biggest ego booster.

Before anyone gets on his ass, he loves his woman and he quickly taps out of the snapchat so he doesn't see it for long. It's been Aiko's 5th nude so far, and he's already knowing what to expect when the notification hits his screen. He knows this shit.

You were there the first time she sent him a nude over snapchat. You both looked at it, confused that it had been sent to the wrong person since she hadn't sent him anything in between that movie selfie and this. It became a running joke for awhile, but it eventually died the less you saw or heard of it. You just actually didn't know she was still sending him nudes.

So, when you see her snapchat notification pop up on his screen again, you're a little taken aback.

"Aiko's still sending you snaps?" You ask as you hug Taehyung tightly while you both are cuddling on Jimin's couch, watching another yet unsatisfying episode of Unsolved Mysteries. You all had just finished watching The Hate U Give, Jimin throwing the channel on something random afterwards. He sat on the other portion of his couch, hugging a pillow tightly against his chest as he cussed to himself and mumbled questions about how people could stand this show if barely any of the episodes were actually solved.

You get the frustration, right? You just wanna know if they ever caught the killer, or if they found new clues, but most of the episodes end so abruptly with that 'if you happen to have any info regarding this case' message with the number to call.

"Yeah, it's whatever though." Taehyung says, keeping his eyes on the tv while you fiddled with his phone.

"Woah!" You say as you pressed on her snap, revealing her nude and on her bed, fingers trailing down to her lady friend. You tilted your head as you watched her begin to rub her clit ever so softly. The thing that gets you though is her body, and how she sat there, looking like a perfect hourglass. "Interesting." Taehyung looks at his phone and does a double take.

"Oh shit." He nonchalantly says as he also tilts his head confusingly while looking at the snap, causing you to shake your head and hit his chest as you tap out if it. The second thing that catches your eye is how many times her name comes up in his history.

"She's been sending you snaps?"

"Yeah, but I don't pay much attention to it." He caresses your arm as you slightly tilt your head up to look at him.

"Have they all been nudes?"

"Yes, but I told you I don't pay much attention to it, baby." You were unsatisfied with his answer, only because you just got a glimpse of what she sent tonight. You have no idea what the others looked like, but you were thinking it was just as this one was - the perfect position in her hourglass shape.

"Okay." Is all you say. You suddenly felt insecure as fuck, knowing your man had seen those snaps of her. She honestly looked like a fucking goddess and it kills you. He used to fuck her, for god's sake! Aka he used to have the hots for her to some extent?! He considered it once, and it makes you feel a little queazy knowing he could again.

"What happened?" Jimin asks from his side of the couch.

"Aiko sent Taehyung a nude." You flatly respond.

"Seen it, she's sent me the same ones." You roll your eyes because for Jimin, it's whatever. For your man though, please. Don't come up in his inbox with that mess. What the fuck was she trying to do here, show the world her coochie? She was feeling herself that much?

Shit, honestly. Single and with that body, you would be too. Fuck, that's annoying.

"Baby, it's nothing, okay?" He gently tickles your chin.

"Kaaaaay, I heard you." You say as bothered as possible. For the remaining time at Jimin's, you're quiet. Your mood has plunged. You just wanted to sulk in your bed. Taehyung takes notice, but he was going to wait until you two were alone to bring it up.

Which is now, in the car, in your guest parking spot.

"Okay, what's going on in my pretty lady's head?" He shuts off the car and sinks into the driver's seat, having the damn nerve to manspread in it.

"Nothing."

"Mm, not gonna fly with me, sweetheart."

"I just can't believe she's been sending you nudes."

"So what? It doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah right, with that body of hers? How could it not? You used to have a thing for her."

"Used to."

"Her body is fucking perfect, it's annoying."

"Babygirl, don't do that. I don't like when you compare yourself. You're the only person I know who's close to perfect." He boops your nose, but it leaves you unamused. You're just letting your feelings of insecurity and jealousy get to you that everything is clouded. All the things he's saying doesn't reach you, and you're literally in the mood to pick a fight for no whole ass reason over it. That was exactly one of your other bad habits that you had trouble unlearning.

"Whatever." You brushed him off, making him a little irritated with the way you were coming off over this. Again, Taehyung doesn't mind reassuring you. He loves doing it. He loves babying you and being the best he can be. But there were days where your attitude did get to the best of him, especially when he was trying. Taehyung hadn't given you a reason to make you doubt him since you two became exclusive, so he didn't think it was necessary for you to act the way you were acting.

"Really, Y/N? This isn't necessary."

"Why are you still even entertaining her snaps? Shouldn't you have gotten rid of her contact info already?" He grabs his phone and blocks her on snapchat, showing it to you before shoving it into the small storage space under the car's radio.

"There, happy?"

"Why are you so mad about it? I'm sorry you want to see her body so fucking badly."

"I'm mad because you're being a brat when you don't need to be." He looks at you intimidatingly with his piercing eyes. "You're putting words in my mouth. I never said I wanted to. Plus, I've told you time and time again that it was nothing and that it didn't mean anything to me." You roll your eyes, getting out of the passenger's seat to make your way up to your apartment.

Alright so, here's the deal. You feel like Taehyung is missing the point. Aiko looked so good in that ones nap. So good that you suddenly questioned your own look and felt completely insecure. You disliked hearing him say it wasn't a big deal, because it was. To you, at least.

Taehyung sighed heavily before going after you. He does a light jog, barely catching the elevator you had hopped into.

"Y/N, don't do that." You glared at him.

"It's not a big deal, right?" He sighs again before running his hand through his curly hair. The elevator doors open, but he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back in and preventing you from walking out. "Tae, let me go."

"Nah." He shrugs. "Not until we fix this." The elevator stays at their floor.

"You said it wasn't a big deal." You crossed your arms.

"Okay, I'm sorry." A good thing about Taehyung is that he's learned to be better about admitting his mistakes and saying sorry when he's in the wrong. "I shouldn't have said it in a way that would make you feel like I'm discrediting your feelings." You continue to look at him silently, the elevator suddenly going back down to the lobby. "And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner or get rid of her shit earlier. But baby, her snapchats don't mean a thing to me. I don't care how 'good' she looks or if they're nudes." He uses finger quotes. "It's still not you."

"I just--" You sighed, watching a lady come into the elevator to join you two to go up to the 8th floor. "I feel like I can't look that good. She had the perfect hourglass figure and she looked so good posing for her nudes. The perfect angle, her hair, the way she smiled through her eyes. I can only imagine what the others were like." He shook his head and shrugged.

"I honestly don't remember." Truthfully. He really didn't care about them, even if he took a quick glance. At the end of the day, they still weren't memorable because it wasn't his lady. "And I don't care if she has that, or whatever it is. I love you." He smiles toothlessly at you. You catch the lady scrunch her nose and smile at you both before walking off. "I love every single thing about you. You're the definition of perfect to me. I hate when you compare yourself because I really, really wish you could see the way I see you."

"Cheesy." It causes you to chuckle a bit and press your hand against his chest as he presses the button to your floor.

"Yeah, okay. You still like to hear it though, I know you." He smirks playfully as he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head. "If it's not you, I don't want it."

"I honestly hate you sometimes." He shrugs before picking you up by the legs and carrying you, causing you to squeal.

"So then hate me."

"Put me down!"

"Say it to my face in bed, baby." He playfully smacks your ass in the hallway, allowing it to echo as he carries you to your apartment. It was hard to stay mad at Taehyung, but you were grateful you had someone like him who could bring you back down to Earth. You had your fair share of bickering and unnecessary arguments [because you liked picking fights with your attitude], but he was still able to show you that he would ride or die for you, no matter how silly things got.

That was your man, and your man only. Sorry Aiko.

#bts #bts fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #kth x reader #writing #perfectly wrong drabbles #perfectly wrong #kth series #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #kim taehyung fluff #kth fluff #taehyung angst #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #kth angst

[one-boring-person]

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game. 

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me. 

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside. 

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs. 

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage. 

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me. 

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see. 

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it. 

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for. 

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation. 

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek. 

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again. 

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now. 

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline. 

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity. 

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly. 

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly. 

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward. 

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me.  Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard. 

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway. 

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly. 

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching. 

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now. 

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face. 

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously. 

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him. 

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love  I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again. 

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

-

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

#Death Proof #death proof #Stuntman Mike #Stuntman Mike x reader #Stuntman Mike imagine #Kurt Russell #Kurt Russell imagine #Quentin Tarantino #break writes

[alia-turin]

It has been a very very long week and I was writing and writing this chapter and it did not seem to end. Honestly I would have made that the final chapter but then it just became endless so I will probably write jus another one sort of as an epilogue. 

I hope you enjoy y’all. 

PLEASE NOTE: This  chapter is 80% NSFW and there is a warming for blindfolding, some lighe dom/sub undertones and ice play.  Fic Title: Somewhere in Time:  Chapter 8 Previous Chapters:  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Rating: Explicit Fandom: The Witcher Relationship: Caranthir Ar-Feiniel/Original Female Character(s)

Aine pulled the furs to her chin. She wasn’t cold, the fire was burning as hot as possible and the bedroom was small, but she couldn’t sleep. She pressed a finger against her lips, still feeling his touch there. The way her heart was beating when she felt him close to her, when he pressed himself against her...that was what kept her awake. That and how much she misunderstood him prior to the events this morning. She had no idea if she had done something or he did it on purpose, showing her things in his mind that shocked her. If it was her, it was not on purpose and probably she even owed him an apology even if she had no idea what to apologize for, if it was him...why?

She thought about what she saw for the rest of the day and now half of the night her mind was still going through the images. Aine didn’t fully understand all of them, those were his memories, that much she knew, but it all looked like paintings and she had to figure out what exactly the painting meant. She saw the terror, the pain he had inflicted. But there was more. She saw the confused boy, the young man who had lost someone he loved and that loss turning into anger. He was violence, but he never hurt her despite her worst fears.

She rolled to her side.

What if she had allowed him to do what he wanted today...she wanted him, why wouldn’t she? He was handsome, he saved her life, even if it was under the strangest circumstances and now she could even understand him. All she had to do today was just to allow him what he started. She didn’t want to be hurt. Not again. She wanted  him, but not for one night, that was pointless.

She rolled to her other side.

Two different men. The same way he said that the red haired woman from his memories was different from her, so was…

Accidentally or on purpose she knew some of his most intimate moments, there was no denying that and despite everything she understood. They were very different from each other, but somehow the same. Having a family, but not really. Not having the worst possible life, but never the life they actually wanted...

She got out of the bed, didn’t even bother to get dressed, just wrapped the furs around herself.

Caranthir was reading a book, or more like looking at a book. He had been starting every sentence multiple times because the words just did not reach his brain. All he could think was how stupid he was today. Aine was too inexperienced and that was too powerful magic for her. He didn’t have an explanation of what exactly went wrong, beside the fact he should have known. No, that wasn’t what bothered him, her stopping him. He was glad she did, he wasn’t sure he could treat her gently, the way he wanted to treat her. Was he even capable of that? Did he even know what it meant to be with someone not just mindlessly chasing his pleasure and some physical relief.    

“Can we talk?” he lifted his head, Aine standing by the stairs, her body wrapped with a blanket. She stepped closer to him, stopping on the opposite side of his desk. “I...know why you act the way you act. I’m not sure I understand it, but I saw your memories.”

“You were not supposed to see that.” he interrupted her. He didn’t want to talk with her about how he killed and worse. He knew very well none of his memories were pleasant, they were not pleasant to him, they couldn’t possibly be pleasant to someone else.

“I wasn’t, but I did.” She pulled the blanket closer to her as if she was cold. “I...pushed you because I told you that you cannot be nice to me and then shut down. I was scared.” he didn’t say anything, only watched and listened, who wouldn’t be scared honestly? And he understood very well what she meant about him being warm one moment and then cold the next. If he had social skills he would be one or the other. “I like you.”

He tilted his head. It wasn’t the first time someone said that to him, but in his opinion women liked the idea of him more than they liked him. He was a navigator, a red rider, all of these attractive in everyone’s mind. He knew she didn’t care about any of that. He knew she saw him for exactly who he was, physically and otherwise and that was relief and a big problem at the same time.

“I saw your life. I owe you something in return, probably an explanation.” he didn’t answer, still not sure what to say. He did not feel as if she owed him something, but he was not going to stop her. If anything he owed her an explanation, maybe an apology for being rash and irresponsible, pushing her to do something because he found it fun without thinking of the consequences “There was an elf. Years ago, when I still lived in my father's house. He was nice to me.” she stopped, he wanted and didn’t want to know what nice meant in that sentence. “He thought that by being close to me, he would win favour, but he did not understand that my father saw me as a bit more than a servant. He figured it out.”

“I have little use of you.” he finally said immediately realizing how bad that sounded. “What I meant is that I have no interest in using you.”

“I know. I...saw as much.” there it was. She said it. Took that off her shoulders. “This is why I pushed you away today. Not because of what I saw but because I started feeling for you and you being the way you were well...I don’t want to be one night entertainment.” she looked at him, she couldn’t live all her life in fear of what happened before and the same was true for him.

She let the blanket drop around her feet, leaving her naked in front of him.

Caranthir felt his jaw drop. That he did not expect. He watched her naked shape, the candles and the fire from the room dancing over her skin and hair. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For weeks now, but why couldn’t he move or say something?

“This is embarrassing, I thought…'' She started talking, her arms trying now to cover her nakedness and also reaching down for the furs, but Caranthir moved faster, getting himself in front of her and grabbing her arms before she could do it.

“You don’t need to do that for my benefit.” he moved her arms out of the way, his eyes tracing the shape of her collarbones, her breasts, her hips. If she were to stop him now, at the very least he wanted to memorize that view.

“I want you.” she answered as she stepped on her tip toes and kissed him. He responded, opening his mouth but taking over the kiss, trying to steal the breath from her but he suddenly pulled out.

“What…” she looked at him puzzled.

“Nothing…” he stepped back his eyes on her body again. He didn’t want to cause himself to her. She was too...pure for him. “You need to know something. I’m not gentle, I’m not sure I know how to be...nice.”

“I saw that.” she responded, her eyes not leaving his. He didn’t think she saw any of it, but maybe he had been too focused on stopping her that she had seen more than he expected. “I have seen…” he placed his finger on her lips.

“And you are not like them to me, but I don’t think I know any other way.” he pressed himself against the desk and pulled her closer, her belly rubbing against his growing erection. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands rest on her lower back. “Do you trust me?” he pulled her even closer to himself, frustrated at all the clothes he was wearing. She hesitated for a second but nodded. That was all he needed.

Aine felt his hand slide down to her ass, but he didn’t stop, he leaned forward and grabbed her hips, lifting her up and turning both of them around, letting her sit on the desk. She wanted to kiss him, she needed the closeness. He took a small step back, and then pulled his shirt off, almost as if he was getting changed, there was nothing seductive in his action, just a task he had to do. Aine couldn’t help herself but stare at his body, she knew he was well built, she could see that much even under the clothes, but now seeing the hardness of his chest, the defined lines around his abs...and the tattoos. She had seen the tattoos that started at his neck and those on his fingers and hands, but didn’t think they covered his whole torso, arms and parts of his legs. There were also the scars, less visible on his skin due to the tattoos but they were still there, the same scars as the ones on his face.

She couldn’t control herself and reached for his chest, her finger tracing a few black lines of the unknown pattern on his skin.

“What does it mean?” she asked as her finger continued.

“This one is a spell.” he grabbed her hand and guided her through his skin. “This stops other mages from putting tracking spells on me, like the one I put on you.” he moved her finger just below his chest. “This one protects from certain curses.” he continued pushing her finger down over his abs until he stopped where his belt was.  She tried to reach for his belt but he held her hand away.

“Patience.” He didn't say that to her, mostly to himself. He had never taken so much time, if it were someone else he would be half way through now. But he wanted to feel her, every single part of her and wanted her to feel him. He wasn’t worried about her seeing him, she already did and he liked what he saw in her eyes. He might be making that up of course but she accepted him, she didn’t stare at his scars as if he was a freak, when her fingers touched them she didn’t even pull away...she just accepted him and that was a bigger turn on for him than almost anything else.

He pushed her on the desk and turned her so her length was on the length of the desk. He didn’t follow her, just walked around and reached for the drawer on the opposite side.

“What are you…” Aine lifted herself looking at him puzzled.

“Trust me.” he pulled the black fabric from the drawer and walked all the way behind her. “Just relaxed.”

He placed the fabric over her eyes and tired it at the back. He had blindfolded women before, it was his way to deal with them not seeing him, not looking at him. This was different. It wasn’t about her seeing him, they were past that, he just liked seeing her trust him, allowing him…

Aine hoped that was not a mistake and she wouldn’t wake up tomorrow regretting everything, or even worse, alone in the bed with him just gone somewhere, forgetting about her. She couldn’t see anything, but her hearing felt somewhat sharper, probably just an illusion from the senula deprivation. She could hear the wood in the fire burning, even the wind howling outside, but nothing from Caranthir until she felt his hands around her ankles, pulling her so her ass was almost at the edge of the desk and her feet hanging  low. Then she felt his hands on her inner thigh spreading her open, redness creeping through her skin realizing he was standing right in front of her with her legs wide spread. What felt even more embarrassing was that she had no idea where his eyes were, for all she knew he could be staring at the bookshelves behind her.

“Caranthir?'' All she needed was a sound from him, just to know exactly where he was, but no response followed. However, she did feel his lips kissing just below her bellybutton, her stomach curling in a ball by the surprised sensation. Second kiss didn’t follow, but that was enough to make the heat between her legs almost intolerable. She tried to push her legs together but he placed his hands on her knees and stopped her. Not a word followed, she couldn’t decide what was more tortuous, not knowing where his eyes were looking, or the absolute silence from him.

Next thing she felt was his hands cupping her breasts, unlike the kiss that was not soft and gentle, that felt more like what she expected from him, rough, but still pleasant. He moved one hand away, just to replace it with his mouth on her nipple, his tongue licking it as her body arched looking for some sort of friction in the empty air. She moaned, enjoying the sensation, but also needing more, the cool air she can feel between her legs just reminding her about the emptiness there.

He moved his other hand away, his mouth replacing it as well, his tongue flicking at teasing, but not giving her any release just building even more need, until he moved away again, Aine moaning this time in frustration, as even his teasing was better than nothing at all. She felt something familiar, a tingling on her skin - magic and that was not coming from here.

“Caranthir, what…” she couldn’t finish. He placed his finger on her lips, again not even a sound from him. He placed a soft kiss just below her jawbone, another one further down, so tender, and gentle, unlike the next one, where he kissed but then sank his teeth in the middle of her neck and the next one over her collarbones where he bit the sensitive skin again. Next thing she felt was something cold against her neck, just where he was kissing, it felt like ice or snow. She could feel the wet trail it left as he moved it down, to where his teeth had sunk a moment ago, leaving her skin cold and burning at the same time. Aine moaned and this time she could hear him smirk, she could almost imagine the satisfaction on his face.

Caranthir watched her body react to the ice in his hand. He placed the cold cube above her breasts, sliding it slowly to her cleavage and further down. He moved the ice away, casting more of the spell to compensate for what had been lost by the warmth of her skin, but used his tongue to lick the wet trail the ice had left. She moaned, her body arching toward him desperately looking for a contact and he was doing his best not to allow her any contact but what he was giving her now.

He pulled away just for a second but then moved back to her right nipple taking it in his mouth and sucking as he slid the ice down her cleavage again, but continued down slowly leaving the ice on top of her belly button to melt.

“Caranthir…” this time it wasn’t a question it was a moan and he could feel it straight between his legs. He wanted to hear that again and again, but when he was in her. He stopped for a second, no, he was determined to take his time, this was different.

He stepped back watching her chest rise and fall, breathing heavily from, the ice on her belly almost melted, cold water glistering over her skin. His gaze stopped between her legs, he could see the wetness, his tongue running over his own lips, not wanting to take any longer. This game was almost as tortuous to him as it probably was to her. He needed to feel her, the same way he had felt her skin against his when he was teaching her, but less innocent, more primal.  

Aine’s body was hot and cold at the same time, she could feel the freezing water running down her belly. Suddenly she felt his finger between her legs, the coldness of his skin surprised her and by insitic she tried to pull her legs together but he stopped her with his other hand. He didn’t push his finger in her, which was frustrating, just ran it around her entrance, his touch almost gentle, pleasant, but was not helping her in any way, on purpose stopping just before he could provide any sort of actual release.

That ended as well, more silence followed, seconds but the anticipation made it feels like minutes. She thought she could hear clothes, maybe leather, but the sound was so faint that she could not decide if at that point her mind was playing tricks on her, maybe it was her wanting to hear that and then feel him on top of her, the warmth of his skin pressed against hers. Again there were the goosebumps on her skin from magic, her brain just going in complete overload, what now? She felt Caranthir hands on her hips, slowly sliding up to her waist, smearing the now warm water under his touch, until his hands reached to her ribs and he slid his grip under her, pulling her into sitting position. Next thing she knew he dragged her even further to the edge of his desk, she was expecting to step on the ground any moment, but that never happened, there was nothing under her feet, just that tingling magic sensation, the feeling of falling and a low surprised scream escaped her mouth.

Suddenly she was sitting on something again, however it felt different. It wasn’t the hard, uncomfortable desk, her knees felt something soft, but what she was different, warm, she lost her balance and leaned forward, by instinct her hands reached forward to soften the fall but all she felt under her palms was hot skin and hard muscle.

Caranthir watched her confusion, as he was lying on the bed, she was sitting on top of him, her legs on either side of his. He removed the fabric from her eyes, unable to hold his own need to look at her. Aine measured the room in surprise, he could see confusion at first but it was quickly replaced with recognition, it was his bedroom, or hers as she had been sleeping there since he rescued her. He was lying on the soft furs covering the bed, the room was dark, but the moonlight reflection on the snow provided more than enough light for him to see her as clear as he did downstairs with all the candles and fires lit. He reached for her face, caressing the perfect skin in the exact same spot where his was damaged. His finger hooked a long strand of hair that was falling over her chest and moved it way, he needed to look at her, enjoy every inch of her.

Her small hands were on his abs, but one slowly moved down, reaching to his hardness and wrapping her thin fingers around him. He didn’t want to make a sound, but a low grunt escaped his throat as he felt her skin around his length. She moved her hand slowly, tortuous, but he did not care, at least not yet. Despite the pleasure her hand was providing, he just couldn’t get enough of her touch, her perfect shape on top of him, her eyes looking in his with the same lust he was feeling. He wanted to do hundreds of things right now and nothing at the same time. Wanted to be in her, on top of her, have her on her knees between his legs, taste her..the list went on and on. At the same time that was perfect as well. He had never experienced that before, all his sex encounters have been about satisfying a need, rather than...that whatever the right word for that was. It had been about chasing his own pleasure, some release and there was that. But now he just wanted to look at her, enjoy the way her eyes were pinned on him, accepting him. Her small hand was still stoking him slowly, but he could feel himself moving him closer to an edge.

Caranthir wrapped his hands under her ass and lifted her up, her knees still touching the soft furs under them. Her hand let go of him and reached back on his abs trying to find balance even if his arms were supporting her. He positioned her slowly on top of his length, his eyes not leaving hers as he let her slide down slowly. He was supporting her, controlling the pace she moved down on him. He could feel the heat between her legs, then the wetness and eventually her tightness around him. She moaned as his tip pushed in, biting her lower lip. He gave her a moment to get used to him, but then continued to help her slide down on him, inch by inch, as slowly as he could until he was all the way in and stopped. She tried to move up, but he dug his fingers in her thighs keeping her in place.

He needed a moment, he pulled himself into a half sitting position, his right hand on the bed to support him, but his left hand still on her hip. He leaned forward and kissed her as he moved his hand under her and urged her to move, slowly, it was tortuous for him, but he knew it was the same for her. They both needed more than that. She started moving on his length, her arms now using his shoulders for support, his hips moving to meet her. He watched her as she found the best angle, the moans from her mouth low but so intoxicating for his mind. He slid his hand away, moving it slowly across her leg until his thumb was positioned on her clit, gently drawing a circle but that was enough to distract her from the pace she had picked.

“Don’t stop or I will as well.” he whispered in her ear, realizing that was the first thing he had said all night.

She started moving again, her eyes pleading with him and he just smiled, his thumb resuming the lazy circles it was drawing.

“Good girl.” he whispered in her ear again and then bit it gently, moving his lips down her neck, placing soft kisses as his finger increased the pressure and speed. Her pace became more rigid and he moved his hand away, back to her hip, but with a smooth move he rolled her over, this time she was lying on the furs and he was on top of her.

Aine quickly wrapped her legs around him urging him to push in her but he didn’t move. Yet again her pleasure and everything associated was at his mercy. It was exciting, but what made the thrill stronger was that just a week ago she would never imagine herself doing that with him. Somehow seeing him for who he truly was did something for her, enough to know he wouldn’t hurt her, and enough to find attraction toward him. A week ago, she wouldn’t have thought about allowing him to cover her eyes, even if it was for a second and they were completely dressed. Right now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Caranthir placed his hand on her throat, his thumb and index finger holding her jaw and forcing her to look at him, not that she had any other intention. She wanted to look at his face, even though he had been good about keeping his emotions under control, there were signs of pleasure, his pupils almost completely hiding the blue of his eyes, his jaw clenching when he was suppressing a groan.

Despite his best effort Caranthir could not hold any longer, or go slow. He moved his hips slowly but then his whole body just refused to listen and he found himself in a harsh pace, Aine’s body arching below him in pleasure with every thrust he did. The grip around her throat increased in strength, he could feel against his palm as she swallowed, the bones raising against him, the way her skin vibrated as she moaned. Her eyes fixed on him, barely focused, but she was looking at him. He wanted to know what she was feeling, what she was thinking, seeing him on top of her. He could. Without giving it a second thought he pressed his forehead against her and cast the spell, something that should be forbidden, but he wasn’t thinking. He immediately felt what she was feeling, he could feel the pressure against his throat even nothing was holding him, but the amount of pleasure she was feeling, he was feeling it now too, combined with his own, pushing him so close to the edge that he could not control anything on his body anymore, his speed, the way he was holding her…

Aine smiled as she felt his forehead press against her and then almost screamed from what followed. Everything she was feeling until now, suddenly became more intensified and different. It felt so strange, she knew physically nothing changed, his moves became less controlled, harsher, but her mind was experiencing that on a completely different level. She dug her nails in his back and somehow sensed it on her own skin, even if there was nothing there. One of his hands was still on her throat, the other between her legs, how could she feel nails digging in her own back? Her orgasm came almost immediately, her body arching under him, feeling the warmth of skin, she had no idea if she screamed or made any other sound, her whole mind was trying to process something that she had never felt before.

Moments passed, neither of them moved his chest pressing against hers as both of them were trying to catch their breaths. She was physically tired, but her mind was also exhausted in a way she had not felt before, even with all the work she had been doing as he was teaching her how to use magic.

Eventually Caranthir rolled over, he seemed exhausted as well, his moves slow and forced as he pulled the furs under the two of them and used them as a blanket and then pulled her on his chest, his arms wrapped around her body.

Aine started tracing lazily the black lines over his skin entwined with scars. Her fingers touched gently the complex patterns and runes, gently brushing around the damaged skin.

Neither of them spoke, she had no idea what to say. Whatever happened tonight...first she had never imagined herself going to someone offering herself the way she did with him, but somehow it felt right, he felt close and...in a twisted way that made sense. She also never imagined herself being blindfolded to someone’s desk, that sounded terrifying and against all logic, he was the last person she should entrust with that, but here they were, she was more than fine and in one piece.

“What was that?” she finally asked.

“Mhm?” was the only response he gave, as he started playing with her hair. “You  need to be more specific.”

“After you touched my forehead.” she slid her fingers lower to his abs, more runes and markings covering the skin there.

“A spell.” he answered. A forbidden one or at least one that was frowned upon in certain circumstances. Accessing someone’s mind was dangerous and invasive, the way she did it with him, he allowed that. No one allowed him now. “It allowed me to feel what you were feeling and it allowed you to feel what I was feeling.” It usually was hard to cast it on someone who was unwilling or unaware, but she had completely given up to him. It felt so easy as both of them had completely given themselves to each other, but he had also been selfish. He needed the reassurance that she really wanted him, the way he wanted her.

Caranthir continued playing with her hair, his mind going through everything that happened tonight. Not just the physical part, that was great, but there was more. He had never been so intimate with another person. Never had the need to touch someone or be touched, even if it was just that, holding her, feeling her warmth next to him.  

“Are you okay?” she pushed herself up a bit, he had to fight the instinct to pin her back down. She wasn’t going anywhere, she just lifted her head and shoulders a bit to look at him, but even that loss of friction was frustrating. He felt like a child who had just discovered how good chocolate tasted. “Caranthir?”

“Yes.” he pushed her hair away from her shoulder gently, running his finger over the skin where he had left marks. He has not done that before. He had been rough in the past, but never felt the need to leave a mark, it usually happened by accident, spur of the moment situation, but that was different. “Does it hurt?” she shook her head, she probably didn’t even know how red her skin was.

“How did you do the thing with the ice?” she relaxed again on his chest.

He reached for her hand and took it in his, made her open her palm.

“Focus and think about ice.” he could see her concentrating, sensing magic slowly building and an ice ball no bigger than his thumb appeared in her hand. “There you go.”

She rolled the piece of ice in her hand and then placed it on his chest, Caranthir groaned, the little ball slid down his chest to the side of abs and fell on the bed.

“How long did it take you to get all these?” she asked after a moment of silence, her small finger tracing again the tattoos on his body.

“Months.” It felt strange talking about himself. He had asked her questions about her and he knew a lot, but she never asked him questions before and then...well he gave her the crash course of who he was. It was still foreign for him to talk about himself. “I did my first one when I wasn’t even an adult yet.”

“You did it?” she pushed herself up again, looking him in the eyes with surprise. “Even on your neck and back?”

“You can use magic to move objects. It is not that complicated to move a needle and some ink.” he traced her spine with his fingers. He should probably get some protective runes on her to make sure no harm would come, but he also loved looking at her undamaged skin, so much unlike his covered in scars. “My teacher taught me the principle and told me that one day he would help me get my first runes. I couldn’t wait, so I did it myself despite his instructions. He wasn’t happy, but I also did it right from the first time.”

Aine listened to him, it felt good. She already knew a lot, not because she asked, but now it felt better. Having him volunteer that information, for the first time talking with full sentences, not half words with hidden meaning.

“Your teacher...he was the one who raised you, right?” she was careful with her questions, she wanted to hear him talk, but she also didn’t want to push too far and make him close himself again.

“He did. He was like a father to me, not a good one, but he was the only family I had growing up. The only parent, the only friend…” a sad smile appeared on his lips. “I used to worship him, now I feel like he is my biggest enemy.”

Aine didn’t know what to say at that, she wasn’t one to speak about fatherly love and even if she did not consider her family as her enemy she did not want to be near them either, or at least what was left of them. A brother who rarely acknowledged her, a father who used her as a trinket when there was a need for it and ignored her the rest of the time.

“I want you to stay with…” Caranthir finally started what was on his mind but stopped suddenly feeling the energy in the room building. He looked at her but her eyes were as puzzled looking at him for an answer.  “Seriously?” Caranthir said more to himself, pushing himself up as he saw the portal opening. There was only one person who could open a portal and knew to find him in this place.

[bestbakubros]

I love your shy!s/o who’s afraid of Bakugou! 😊😊Can you continue from that scene with nsfw? Let’s say his s/o still doesn’t believe him and pleads for him not to hurt her. She’s crying at this point, so Bakugou takes it a step further and makes soft, passionate love to her. He’s trying to prove that she has nothing to fear and she’s safe in his arms. I really appreciate your writing and dedication! Keep up the good work but also take it easy on yourself!😁❤️👍🏾

a/n: hello anon!! thank you so much for the request and thank you for the compliment 🥺🥺 i love you so much uWu!! anyways sorry it took me forever to get this out, i hope you enjoy!! this is quite long so strap in! 1.3k words!!

link to headcanon: here ya go!  (sidenote: i copied the text from the headcanon so it’s going to be about the same but you can read the headcanon if you want 🥺 )

warnings: 18+, slight angst, straight up smut, cursing, body praising

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Bakugo w/ a shy!s/o who’s afraid of him ~ NSFW version

It was late in the night when Bakugo came knocking at your door. “Oh hello Suki! What are you doing here so late?” He didn’t say anything, just picking you up bridal style and closing the door with his foot. The door accidently slams shut, making you jump and look at Katsuki with fear in your eyes. 

His usual aggressive demeanor softens at the sight of your fearfulness towards him. He sighs and gently places you down on your bed. “Baby…” “D-don’t hurt me Katsuki please! Y-your going t-to hurt me!” You plead as tears begin flowing out of your eyes. Bakugo could feel the disbelief and fear, shattering his heart into a million pieces. You put your hands up defensively, which Suki gently grabs your hands, slowly placing them on the back of his neck, and slowly getting on top of you, climbing in between your legs. You didn’t resist afraid that Suki would hurt you if you tried. He rests his elbow on the side of your head, and his right hand makes it to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb and wiping your tears away. His eyes filled with adoration and love as he looked down at you. “I would never hurt you (y/n). I love you too much to do stupid shit like that.” 

Suki slowly makes his way to your lips, kissing them gently. He pulls away, resting his head on yours. “I would never hurt you baby. I promise.” Bakugo gently kisses your lips again, up to your nose, then your forehead. A blush creeps unto your face, flustered by the softness of Suki’s actions and voice. At this moment, he was willing to show you his vulnerable side to prove that you had nothing to be afraid of. Your foreheads meet as he stared into those beautiful (e/c) eyes he loved looking into every single day. 

“Please let me show you how much I love you baby...” Suki plants small kisses all over your stained cheeks, making you giggle. He was being so gentle with you, afraid that any roughness might make you want to leave him. That was the last thing Bakugo wanted for you to leave him; he wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you. A soft smile beams from Katsuki’s face from your little giggles. He knew he was slowly gaining your trust when you began to rake your fingers through his hair as he continued placing gentle pecks on your soft skin.

Katsuki’s soft, chapped lips meet yours again. You pull him closer to your body, deepening the intoxicating kiss the two of you shared. His lips pull away from yours, leaving you breathless as Suki begins to leave wet kiss trails down your jaw and neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. “I love you so much (y/n).” Your hands are left by the sides of your head and you watch as his hands trace every beautiful curve of your body, memorizing every inch of skin; they make their way to hem of your shirt, playing with it. Crimson eyes meeting your (e/c) eyes, asking for permission before he could move on. You nod, earning a smile from Suki as he gently pulled your shirt off of your torso. Your hands instinctively cover your breasts as he scanned your figure. 

Bakugo takes your wrists away in his hands, bring them to sides of your head again. “Damn you’re stunning princess... You shouldn’t feel embarrassed, you are so beautiful. ” Rosy cheeks were apparent on his handsome face in the moonlight. Katsuki swiftly removes his black tank top, a tint of pink appearing on your face from the view you were getting. The huge pecks, toned abs, and muscular biceps made you weak for him. Suki makes his way down to your erected nipple, kissing and swirling his searing, hot tongue over the bud. Your head tilts upwards in ecstasy as you let out a lewd moan. 

You feel Katsuki smirk as one of his hands makes its way down to your waistband, slowly reaching down to your soaking core. A sudden plunge from his two fingers, earns him another loud moan from your full lips. “Shit princess you are soaked.” He looks at you again, seeing you ingulfed in pleasure. Katsuki takes in as a sign to get your soiled underwear and shorts off of you. He slowly drags them off of your legs teasingly as you whine. Suki lets out a low chuckle, and softly kisses your soft lips again. You hands start to drift down towards his dangerously low sweatpants, feeling his toned torso and v-line. You start playing with the strings that dangled down, Katsuki’s hands pulling off his sweatpants of and kicking them to the floor. 

Bakugo detaches his lips from yours, resting his forehead on yours as you watched his dick spring out. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your innocence and flustered expression. “Are you ready baby? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I just want to show you that you are safe in my arms and how in love I am with you.” Suki says as he caresses your face. Yours eyes meet his beautiful ones. “S-show me then.” Suki gives you another gentle kiss to distract you from the pain as he aligns himself with your entrance, and thrusts into you. 

“Are you okay baby?” You softly nod. “Go ahead Suki.” He accepts your signal and starts slowly thrusting into you. Your head falls back again in pure bliss. “Shit princess, you’re so t-tight.” Your slick walls fluttering against Bakugo, making him groan in your ear. “G-go faster Katsuki!” Suki picks up the speed, ramming into you faster than before and digging his fingers into your waist. You feel a tingling feeling in the lower part of your stomach coiling inside you. The sound of pleasurable moans and his skin slapping against you bounced around the room. The temperature of the once cold room rising from the heat of your bodies.

Your legs wrap around his hips as your fingernails left burning, red marks all over Katsuki’s back. “I love you so much (y/n)!” His lips return to you neck leaving sloppy wet trails and purple bruises down to the valley of your breasts. “AH Katsuki!” Suki loved the sweet sound of his name being called out of your lips. Every thrust into you was passionate and intoxicating.  “Please Katsuki... I’m gonna c- AGH!” Your back arches; the strange, tingling coil unraveling and spilling all over Katsuki’s cock, your eyes shuting tightly. The fluttering of your pussy drives Suki insane as he ruts into you a few more times before he spills strings of his hot cum into you. He groans loudly and lessens his thrusts into your swollen core before pulling out.

Suki watches as the white substance flows out of your red cunt, and looks up to you panting from exhaustion. He plants a lazy yet passionate kiss on your lips once more and gets up to get a wet towel to clean up the mess the two of you made. Bakugo comes back and wipes your core, cleaning you up well before throwing the towel into your hamper and crawling back into bed with you. 

Katsuki pulls you close to him, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and tracing little shapes at the bottom of your spine. You stare into each other’s eyes, seeing only adoration and love in them. “I love you so much baby, and please don’t ever think I would hurt you... It breaks my heart.” He gives your nose and forehead a little kiss, showing a little smile towards you. “I know I don’t need to be afraid anymore... I love you so much too Katsuki.” You kiss his soft lips, pulling away, then burying your face into his neck and taking in his sweet caramel scent. Katsuki buries his face in your hair, giving you kisses at the top of your head until the two of were fast asleep.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader

[raleighcarrera]

May I possibly request either #32 or 46 from the NSFW prompt list for my obsession... I mean, Mason lol? Pretty please? 💕

32. “if you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?” 46. “you’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

and several other people also asked for 33. “i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

50 NSFW starters 

like most of their conversations, it comes up in bed.

they’re laying around, relaxing for so long after a fuck that they’re probably coming up on the time for their next turn in the sheets, but for some reason, mason finds himself unwilling to initiate anything more than the light touches kira’s currently tolerating, her body canting greedily into each place his hand rests on her, like she’s wordlessly asking for more.

he likes her like this -- close by. smiling at him. quiet, for once.

plus, the way she hums when he digs his thumbs into her arm or the inside of her thigh or a tense shoulder sounds pretty nice in his ears.

so they’re talking about work, when she says it -- going over the details of a case that he can’t be bothered to think too closely about when the shape of her naked breasts is so clearly visible under the thin sheet, drawing his eyes in. 

but the mention of her shithead ex, who won’t stop stalking her in the interest of trying to play reporter, certainly captures his attention. mason snaps his gaze up to her face to search for any sign of distress on her expression. sooner or later he’s going to have to have a talk with that guy about bothering kira so much, but for now, mason only snorts, his amusement clear when he asks, “what did you ever see in him, anyway? he’s a loser.”

she shrugs. mason can practically feel his grin drop straight off his face when she simply says, “he was good in bed.”

it really shouldn’t bother him, especially not as much as it does. he knows he’s the best kira’s ever had -- not only because of his own self-confidence but because it’s obvious in the way she comes apart for him, like she’s stunned by how good it feels every time they get together. her wonder at what he can do to her never goes away, and he likes that about her, so -- fine, he was good in bed, but -- not as good as mason, clearly.

still, the rational part of his brain refuses to engage and save him from his spiraling. he knows it’s stupid and ridiculous, but he’s jealous all the same. “well,” he says finally, the words thick with distaste, “you’re easy to please.”

“awwwww.” the sheets shift as kira crawls closer, her smile a mile wide on her beautiful face. “are you jealous?”

“i don’t get jealous,” mason answers with a scoff, like the notion is too ridiculous to even dedicate his attention to. it is. he doesn’t.

never mind that he never did or felt a lot of things, before her. 

there’s something unidentifiable in her eyes when their gazes lock. her look reflects in the dimmed light of her bedroom like a sparkling star, and he’s helpless to turn his face away. “there’s nothing to be jealous of, you know.”

“then it’s a good thing i’m not jealous, have never been jealous, and never will be.” for some reason, that answer makes kira’s smile grow even larger. 

with a growl, he surges forward and catches her lips in a kiss. it’s meant to cut off whatever snarky, sexy thing she might be gearing up to say next, but it has the added affect of hiding her smile, for all the good that does for his sanity -- her stupid grin has been seared into his brain for months.

mason rolls on top of her and presses her down into the mattress effortlessly, the answering low moan that kira gives unlocking something primal within him. “you know what?” he mutters against her lips in between kisses, “i’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever met that asshole.”

a full body shiver trips through her. he can feel every one of her goosebumps pressed against his skin. “mason.”

“hold still.” she does, near-immediately. with her presence dampening the sound of her neighbors and the street below and the humming of her air-conditioning and every other random noise that’d otherwise be an affront to his senses, he can hear her heartbeat and its uptick loud and clear. he can almost even hear the way her pupils dilate with desire. 

mason peels the sheet back slowly, trailing his fingers down her body as he does so. it slips away and the figure that’s revealed makes his cock twitch, just like it does every other time he gets to see it, bare like this or wrapped in too-tight jeans, without fail. kira looks so perfect, to him, that it makes every other time he’s fucked before her seem inconsequential in comparison, even though he’s had some pretty memorable experiences.

his hands wrap around her thighs and pull them apart, and he slides down her body without fuss, making himself comfortable between her legs.

her breath catches as soon as his head dips down, and once his hair falls into his face and obscures his expression, mason grins as hugely as he can. 

this is going to be fun.

he kisses up the sides of her thighs slowly, each press of his lips a lingering, sucking nip that leaves a mark against her skin that’s just the right shade of red. kira kicks her legs restlessly in the sheets while he works -- up from her knee to the crease at the top then back down again, hands tight on her calves while he winds her up as tightly as he can.

“mason,” she groans, after it’s gone on for probably way too long, “i swear to god, if you don’t quit teasing --”

“you’ll what?” he asks, leaning back to drag one fingertip up the wet trail he’s left on the inside of her leg, touch so light her body shakes again. “scream?”

“i’ll never fuck you again, you bastard.” 

he snorts again. her arched back and the breathless way the words are said around a sigh tell him everything he needs to know, but even if she wasn’t constantly groaning his name, the way she keeps pushing her hips forward insistently would do the trick nicely.

“if you don’t like my teasing then why are you moaning?” he asks, just because he can. just because it’s worth being an asshole for the way kira groans even louder, her sigh markedly more exasperated, this time. 

annoying her is almost as good as making her come. that’ll probably never change.

“it obviously feels good, idiot,” she bites back, despite the waver in her voice. he ducks his head on another grin. “but it’d feel better if you used that mouth for something produc -- mason!” 

his tongue delves into her without warning, parting her folds and immediately experiencing just how wet she is, tasting that explosion of sensation that’s uniquely kira and troublingly addictive. 

her hands wind into his hair and pull when he employs all his best tricks right off the bat, and that starts the rhythm that’s familiar to them -- he squeezes her thighs to leave behind the bruises he knows she likes, and she chants his name in a way that has him grinding his cock into the mattress, achingly hard just from hearing her sob out those two syllables over and over again while he takes her apart with his tongue.

“oh, fuck,” she gasps, when she starts to get close, grinding her hips down against him and doing her best to ride his face given the position they’re in, “oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, mason --”

he pulls back, licking the taste of her from his lips. spread out on the bed, when he pushes up onto his knees, kira looks absolutely wrecked, her chest heaving and her body flushed, the tops of her thighs wet where her arousal had simply been too much to contain.

mason rubs his jaw, smirking pridefully down at her. let’s see bobby marks do that.

without even having caught her breath yet, kira tilts her head on the pillow to look him in the eye. like always, she has him pinned with just a gaze. “i thought you were going to fuck me.”

his eyebrows lift. kira looks like she can barely handle a light rainstorm, right now, let alone what he wants to do to her. “is that what you want?”

she pushes up onto her elbows, moving her messy hair out of her face. her eyes are still a little dazed with pleasure. “if you can deliver.”

oh, he knows what she’s doing. still, mason narrows his eyes at her, crawling back on top of her body and ignoring the look of delight that jumps onto her face as he does. one hand grabs her chin, the other fumbling between their bodies to keep her legs pushed wide.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaning in close so his stubbled cheek drags across her much smoother, much warmer skin, “i’m going to fuck you.” 

the hitch in her breath is audible when his fingers slide back between her legs, making her hips jerk where she’s still so sensitive. 

“i’m going to watch you come on my cock over and over again.” 

kira’s groan is choked off, stuck in her throat with surprise. she’s so unbelievably wet where he’s touching her.

mason grins at her. “roll over.”

before her, this wasn’t a position he favored. something about it seems so intimate -- her back to his chest, her body gathered in his arms with her head on his shoulder -- but with kira it just feels right, an extension of what they already do. a new way to get even closer.

he wants to get as close as possible.

plus, his cock always slides in so easily like this, and the stretch or the angle always makes kira moan just a little bit louder than usual, her thigh trembling in his hand where he’s holding it up for her.

mason kisses her shoulder and then bites her hard enough to leave a mark. “you feel so good, kira.”

it’s enough to drive him out of his own mind. nothing has ever felt as good as her, as this -- sex wasn’t sex before her. all the other people he’s been with are something else entirely. 

“please,” she whines, “mason, oh god.”

that means faster. they’ve been at this for long enough that he knows what each please is asking for just by the way the word is pitched. 

he gives up on trying to be careful with her and gives her what they both want -- something that will last. something that will make her ache. something she’ll feel when she moves the wrong way at work and something that will leave her thinking about him in the middle of her day, so that when he sees her later on she jumps on him and practically tackles him to the floor of his room at the warehouse with frantic kisses.

his goal is always to fuck her hard enough to get those kisses, because he sure as hell isn’t asking for them.

true to his promise, he makes kira come twice before finally bottoming out inside of her, slamming his cock home viciously and enjoying the way she shakes around him when he does. 

it’s more than just the way she tightens around him that makes him come. it’s having so much of their bare skin pressed together, it’s the sound she makes when he rolls a nipple between his fingers while nosing at the side of her neck over her scar, it’s the way the smell of her shampoo is the only thing he can focus on when his vision whites out from indescribable pleasure. 

there’s pretty much no way he can ever fuck anyone else ever again, now that he knows what this feels like.

she makes a sleepy noise of protest when he pulls out, digging her fingertips into his arms to keep him from moving too far away unnecessarily -- he’s not going anywhere.

in fact, he’s the one to drag her in closer, tightening his hold around her and spooning up behind kira without an ounce of shame about how nice it is, burying his face in the soft curtain of her hair. 

she twists to kiss his arm, pressing her lips to any bare patch of skin of his she can reach without wiggling too much. the heavy sigh that leaves her is a rush of cool air against his hand. “that was nice,” kira murmurs.

the pointed pause that follows the words lets him know she’s grinning without having to look at her.

“...but i definitely still remember meeting all of my ex-boyfriends.”

brat.

and she knows it, if the yelp of laughter she gives when he nips at her neck in retaliation is anything to go by. mason rolls them both over, fighting her playfully in the sheets until she goes slack and lets him pin her to the mattress. 

well, they’ve got all night. if she wants to provoke him, he can absolutely give in -- especially since it looks like this argument is headed somewhere he very much wants to be regardless of the low-level annoyance he still feels towards that dirtbag who made her so much as frown.

mason leans down until they’re nose-to-nose, doing his best not to smile back when faced with her big, bold grin. “oh, you’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.”

kira’s impish smile stretches wider in challenge yet again. she’s ridiculous. 

and his eyes are drawn to the way she licks her lips like a magnet. he’s helpless to ignore the way his body reacts when she curves them upwards and smirks, “promise?”

#the wayhaven chronicles #mason twc #twc mason #mason x detective #not choices #twc m #myfic #long post #ns*w #bitchloveskcbaseball #hope you like this !! sorry i switched it up slightly !! #also hiiii to all 7 of us mason stans ❤️

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 7 (DabixReader)

A/N: SO I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE IT but I PROMISE this isn’t the last one for this. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to go much farther in this exact moment. I have a couple other ideas for this series but I’m not 100% on most of them so we’ll see. I was thinking of starting some others as well, different one shots or whatever. Would you all be interested in a NSFW addition in the next one? Or is that too far/too much? ImeanIlovesmutasmuchasthenextpersonbuuuuuuuut I don’t wanna force it on people, I guess. Eh, who knows. Enjoy! Thank you for reading!!

Part 6: X

Part 8: X

Tag List: @velvet-kissesss​ @marydragneell​ @littleblackpheonix​ @holytacocactuscollector @ghostingtime​ @the-cosmic-dreamer​

Calloused fingers trace down your sides and you shiver at the touch as they grasp your thighs. Palms both smooth and rough with the slight feel of metal slide against your shorts, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh slowly. Waiting. Savoring. It’s the heat of him that overcomes your senses, leaving your mind in a trap. His scent fills you.

Leather and whisky. Smoke and sandalwood. A hint of mint and what seems to be the natural musk of his skin as he feels your body in his hands. Caressing every curve and dip of your flesh. 

As he finds your hips and pulls you roughly closer to him you yelp at the sudden movement. Dinner long forgotten on the cold stove, you grasp at the leather jacket and his shoulders. Sliding your hands up from his neck to his face, holding him gently as you breathe in his scent. It’s hypnotic. Intoxicating. 

Lips tease at your ear with a husky laugh, his next few words softer than you’ve ever heard him speak before. 

“I could eat you out right here.” he growls playfully and he presses himself between your legs. 

“Not on the counter.” you giggle and he nods, pressing sensual kiss after sensual kiss down from your ear to your collarbone. 

“Shit, you’re right.” he breathes and hoists you up in his arms as he carries you to the kitchen table. “Meals are meant to be eaten at the dinner table.” 

You’re on your back on the table in seconds, his head trailing down your body so slow it's almost painful. Inching closer to the waistband of your shorts until he grabs the drawstring with his teeth and pulls the knot until it’s undone. His tongue tastes your skin beneath your belly button and you shiver under his touch. 

“And I’ll be honest baby girl,” he breathes, his breath tickling your skin. Goosebumps pop up along your stomach and legs. “I. Am. Starving.”

You bolt up in your bed, your heart hammering in your chest at the memory of the dream. Eyes wide to the dark room you search fitfully for something that’ll remind you it was only just a dream. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Who are you kidding? You’re disappointed it was only a dream. You groan and flop back down to your pillows, staring up at the ceiling as you wipe the sweat from your brow. So worked up over nothing but a dream. How depressing. 

It’s been a week and a half since you’ve last seen Dabi. Since he disappeared in the middle of the night. 

You still haven’t pulled yourself together. As much as you wish you could it seems damn near impossible to forget him as he appears night after night in your dreams. They’re not all the same but they all feel inexplicably and frustratingly real. 

His hands, his voice and his goddamn heat. They plague your slumber like a beautiful nightmare refusing to leave you. Haunting you. What would it take to get this man out of your head?

You’re not sure but the thump from your living room seems like a good enough distraction right now. Freezing, you stare at your door in panic.

Someone is inside your apartment. 

Fear, cold and unyielding, grips at every inch of your skin and you shrink back into your bed. Who the hell would have broken into your home?! Could it be a member of the League, scouting you out? Could it be that strange man who won’t leave you alone after that one night at the bar? You hadn’t brought him home or told him anything beyond your name but the world is full of creeps who will do anything to get what they want. 

You listen in silence as your heart starts to race faster and faster. With every breath it shoots the ice cold paranoia through your veins. You should have listened and moved. As soon as Dabi told you to. Just abandoned everything here and just ran. Bolted. Shit, you’d figure out how to fly if it got you out of this situation.

There’s a tap at your window and a shuffle as you crawl away from it. A shadow peers in from outside and starts to pop the screen out.

Oh no. You never locked your window?! Jesus, how stupid could you be?! What kind of idiot doesn’t quadruple check their windows and doors?!

Well… You, apparently. 

The struggle with the window is only momentary as they press their hands to the glass. When it starts to give way to their movements and slides open, you feel your stomach drop into each of your toes. Not one but two people are invading your home and you’re frozen in terror. 

How many minutes would it take to get away from both of them? How fast would you have to be? Could you get them to I just some of your blood and then drain them? It would have to be quick to get them to buy into it. If you can even pull it off, that is. It’s not easy to get someone to willingly drink your blood- unless you revealed it boosted their quirk. If you could trick them into thinking you’ll comply you’ll have a better shot. 

The figure at the window hops up with a soft jingle. They shift slightly and all the trembling your body has started stops. You recognize that silhouette. You know without a doubt that you’ve seen a fair amount of his flesh without it being covered. Memorized the crazy tufts of hair that go in every direction both wet and dry- and you can never, ever forget those blazing blue eyes. They’re sewn into your mind's eye. A beacon that will always call you toward him from whatever end of the earth you are. Miles or inches away, you can feel them searching for you. Watching.

“D-” you start to say his name in disbelief but his hand clamps down over your mouth and he brings a finger to his lips. 

He motions towards the hallway where the other noises are coming from and you give a small nod. You don’t need his words to understand. 

Somehow, against the odds, Dabi is here. That’s all you can care about although you know you should care there is a literal intruder in your home. Not that it would be important at all or anything. 

Dabi leaps from your windowsill and down to your bed, keeping in to a low crouch as he slides off. Silent as sin, he tip toes to your door and disappears behind it. You listen intently as the shuffling from the living room continues- completely unaware of the man heading their way. 

Had he known you were in trouble? How?

Why show up now, of all the times to show? Not that you aren’t thankful, of course. It can’t be coincidence he’s here when someone else has literally broken into your home. 

The sound of fighting and a yelp from the living room pulls you from your thoughts and you scramble to shut the window. Who did Dabi find? Is he the one who yelped or is it the other person? The sound of scuffing and grunting sounds grow ever closer to your room. You hold your breath and clutch your blanket closer to you, fear flooding into your body as a loud thump slams into your door. 

It bursts open and the man with the green skin from the bar tumbles in, Dabi looming above him. The man twists to face him, his skin changing into different colors. He must have some kind of chameleon quirk. It tries to blend him in but it’s going too quickly, too sporadically to hold on to one shade as he scrambles away from Dabi. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, darlin’.” Dabi drawls and steps closer to the man menacingly, blue fire hovering from his hands. “More trash.” 

“Please, I-I-I didn’t know she was with you!” the man- ‘Charlie’ you remember he had told you to call him. “I just thought she was some single broad!” 

“What difference does that make?” Dabi grins and you watch as he glares down at the man. 

This. This is the villain you’ve been told about. It should scare you. Shit, you should be terrified of him. But somehow, someway, you aren’t. All you can see is that it’s Dabi. The feel of his energy returning to your empty halls. The sound of his voice against the walls and floors. Enveloping your ears in a soft caress as he drawls. Having him near is comforting.

You can feel the bond between you two hum to life, a surge of power and heat bolting through. You know it’s not just from Dabi- you can feel it as the warmth spreads from within your body to the outer layers of your skin. Every calm breath he takes, every step he advances- you can feel the proximity ignite so much more than this mixture of sensations. Your body is locked on to his location like it’s your own. Like it’s a piece you never knew you were missing until you met him. 

“I-I- Nothing! Nothing!” Charlie stutters and turns his eyes to you. “I’m just a friend, right? Go on, tell him!!” 

You shake your head. 

“Pathetic.” Dabi clicks his tongue, “You really can’t think of anything else to save your sorry ass?” 

Charlie lets out a sob and glances back at you. His eyes are begging for your help but you can only flinch as he grabs at the leg of the bed closest to him. He holds onto it firmly with both hands and turns on his stomach as Dabi grabs him by the back of his shirt. 

“Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!” he growls. 

“Yeah, what’s a little breaking and entering into a place that isn’t yours? That’s not wrong in the slightest.” Dabi mocks. 

“Coming from you that’s laughable!” Charlie snaps. “At least I haven’t killed anyone!” 

“That’s just because you’re a coward.” Dabi snarls and yanks Charlie up from the floor. 

“Do you really want to kill me in front of her?!” Charlie motions toward you and Dabi follows his gaze. “Sh-She’s still innocent, isn’t she? You wouldn’t want to ruin her for yourself.”

Woah, woah, woah. Back it up. Ruin you? 

You blink at Charlie as your brows furrow. Confusion turns into anger as you realize just how defenseless he thinks you are. 

“That’s a fucking joke.” you sneer and glare at him. “Why are you even breaking into my apartment in the first place? Couldn’t take no for an answer?”

“Oh shut it.” he snarls. “You brought your pathetic, desperate ass to that bar hoping to be fucked-”

Dabi drops him on the floor face first and presses a boot to his spine. He digs his heel in between his shoulder blades and a sickening crack echoes in Charlie’s body. He gives a pitiful whimper in response and turns his head to the side, un-smashing his face from the floorboards. 

“Did you really think,” Dabi seethes with a wicked grin.  “I would let you go? That I wouldn’t notice you creeping towards her?” 

“I told you!” Charlie whimpers. “I didn’t know she was with you- ack!!” he chokes as Dabi slaps a hand around his throat. 

The smell of burning flesh spits into the room with the smoke curling from underneath Dabi’s hand. You flinch at the sound of the impact and turn your gaze to Dabi. Is he really going to kill this man? In your home?

You know he’s a villain. You know this. But seeing something like this first hand is uncomfortable. It unsettles your nerves and you find yourself reaching to stop Dabi as you scramble out of bed. 

“He’s learned his lesson.” you say quietly and Dabi flicks his eyes to you dangerously. The anger stirs beneath his face, the churning fire of his soul erupting from deep within. 

You grasp his forearm lightly, the heat of his skin seeping into your hand as you hold your breath. He has to listen to you. He has to. Even though this man- Charlie or whatever- is a creep who broke into your apartment, you can’t just stand here and watch him die. It goes against what you stand for. What you try to do with your quirk.

The quirk you’ve used twice now to save him. To scoop him from death's door and back into the land of the living. 

“Let him go.” you say softly and slide your other hand to lay over the outside of his around Charlie’s neck. “Please.” 

Dabi drops Charlie roughly, letting the man slam back into the floor. He fixes him with a nasty scowl before he turns his gaze back to you. 

“You don’t know what’s even going on.” he seethes. “Stay out of this.” 

“I know you’re about to kill him in my own goddamn apartment. I don’t want that blood on my floor.”

Snapping back at him isn’t what you intended. Honestly. 

“I’ll make sure to be careful.”

“Dabi, no-“ 

“Fine.” he says curtly and picks Charlie up, stalking over to your window and throwing the man through it harshly. You catch the grunt and yelp outside as he lands before Dabi’s hoisting himself through it. 

“Lock your fucking door.” he hisses before he slams the glass shut behind him. 

Had he just been here for Charlie, then? You’re left, dumbfounded and confused in the middle of your bedroom. Staring at the closed window, blinking slowly as you try to process what just happened. 

When you can find no explanation, you instead take his hasty, last minute aggravated advice and lock your door. You’re not sure how it got unlocked in the first place or why he just didn’t exit through it if it wasn’t locked.

Locking your window for that added passive aggressive push, you curse Dabi in your mind. 

A week and a half of absolutely fucking nothing and then that? Some half assed attempt? Why was he even here in the first place? What did Charlie have to do with anything? Not that you had any kind of affection for the strange, creepy green man but it had seemed...Strange for him to appear right after Dabi had left. 

Was he using you as bait, then? A trap for someone stalking him? He had said you had no idea what was even going on, after all. But you would know if he’d just told you. 

Then again, he also told you to move. And you haven’t listened. You’ve stayed, unable to even summon the energy to try and uproot yourself. The thought alone is a knife to your stomach. Empty, shallow pains that claw at your throat, threatening to crawl out of your mouth and onto the floor. 

Some of the things Charlie said still feel strange. Your ears refuse to understand the words as you mull over them. Why should it matter to you anyways? Dabi chose to leave. He owes you nothing. Your deal with him is done. It’s over. 

Then why do you feel so cut off when he’s gone? 

Sleep is a blessing not bestowed upon you for the rest of the night. You give up after an hour or so and decide to get dressed instead. It’s only three in the morning, perfect for a short stroll. Totally not to try and find the patchwork man who’s consuming your every waking thought. That’s just ridiculous. 

Your steps on the damp pavement are the only sound as you walk. There’s an occasional car or two but beyond that the night is silent. It observed you walking down the street aimlessly, purposeless save for the burning knot of emotion settling into your heart. Why does it bother you so much? Why does his absence mark your senses with a streak of edge? Sharpening every facet with the temperament of steel. You’re hyper vigilant to the world around you- every space you see, every breath you take, every sound you hear- it’s all categorized in your mind, shuffled away until you have a perfect map in your mind. 

You have no idea where you’re going. You don’t even know this part of town that well. It’s a stranger to your company and you’ve preferred it to be that way before now. 

Now you can’t stand not being here. Not being out and experiencing the night fading into day break. The hours may tick by but your body takes it all in stride, your limbs moving to a song you can’t hear but you can feel. It’s a beating of a drum, growing louder and louder as you feel every breath you take pulled from its notes. Forcing your lungs to inflate and hold before deflating. It picks up rapidly until you’re finally running through the streets, your blood singing with energy as you catch a familiar feeling. The thread between you and Dabi reappears and you can feel the song swell with the dwindling space. 

Magnetic. That’s what this is. You can’t help but feel drawn to every step he takes further away from you. When the blue flames ignite from his body and into the night sky, you see the way they jump higher the closer you get. His power grows as you near him. 

It’s undeniable. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge it as he focuses on the burning body in front of him. Burnt to a crisp. Charred remains start to flake away as they burn into the night. You don’t have to guess to know it’s Charlie. 

You can’t find a single bone in your body that cares. Not a drop of blood that screams that this is wrong. The only focus you have is the burning body that’s in front of you. The man that's still standing as his flames engulf him. As they rise and dance into the night sky, a star given human form has dropped out of the sky and onto the earth. He is destined for so much more than he’ll ever know. 

You can’t find the words as his flames shoot out around you. Walls of blue surround your body but don’t dare encroach on your form as you step closer to him. They part to let you closer to him and the steam and smoke from their absence curls off of him in tendrils. Memories written into the air before they wash away with the wind. 

You’ve come all this way for him. Without words to even say why. Explanations are beyond your mind as the feel of his drumming heart erupts into your skin. His heat enveloping you in a sweet summer's embrace. The kiss of the sun without it’s normal light. But it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t even burn- your body is cold against his heat and you can’t help but reach out to him. Arms winding around his waist as you hold your breath. 

You are not afraid. You’ve never been afraid. 

Having him so close feels right. It feels like the universe has corrected some cosmic wrong as he breathes at your touch. A silent sigh exhaling from his lips. Tension rolling off his shoulders as the fetal rage winds back inside his heart. Retreating at your touch, slowly receding into the shadows in his eyes. The dark skin held to his face. Hidden beneath the burn scars and trauma you don’t dare ask about. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks quietly, his voice a bored drawl but you catch the note of agitation he’s lacing it with. He’s still upset. In the throes of his dwindling rage he’s still softening to your voice, bending to your embrace. 

He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t realize the curling hand he places atop your own is gentle and warm. That it solidifies your thoughts into a clear stream instead of the jumbled mess they’ve been in his absence. The thoughts of him leaving showing you the awful future he’s barreling towards without the connection between the two of you. 

His future will only change if you force yourself into his life. Letting him go now will end in nothing but pain. Love or not- even if this is the beginning of something you’ve never experienced- you’re not willing to let him die. 

“I don’t know.” you murmur back. “I couldn’t not be here.” 

“He’s dead.” 

“I know.” 

“I killed him.” 

“I know.” 

Silence. 

“I don’t care.” you whisper as assurance. “He’s not the reason I’m here.” 

“And what is?” his words are sharp and quick. Quipped. Tight lipped. Clenched teeth spitting into the world around him like venom. 

Defensive.

“You.” you admit and press yourself closer to him, tightening your grip as he tenses.

Rejection isn’t an option. Not when you know the pull towards him was more than just you. Not when you feel the beat of his heart in your bones. Summoning you, pleading for you. Begging for your presence as vehemently as he’s trying to fight it off. 

“That’s a pretty shitty reason.” he growls and you shrug. 

“I don’t think so.” 

His hands trail to your wrists and loop his fingers over them. Holding them, he pulls your arms off of him and lets go as he turns to face you. Looking at him face to face, you hesitate to touch him again. The agitation in his eyes warns against it but the way he had almost melted when you did says otherwise. 

He must not have been hugged often. Or touched in any loving way. Not that you were sure you loved him- that’s far too bold to assume so early- but the gentle caress of someone you enjoy being with is always a welcome gesture. And you enjoy Dabi. Even if he can be a huge ass sometimes. 

“What do you want, princess?” he whispers and you can see the way his eyes lock onto your face that he’s angry at himself. 

The frustration is not meant for you. He’s biting back the urge to snap, curbing his anger to remain inward. 

“You. To come back.” 

His hand rises to cup your cheek hesitantly and you lean into his touch. Showing you’re not afraid. You’re here for him. 

“I can’t do that.” he frowns and his hand drops from your face. “You wanted me gone, remember?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“That’s not how this works.” 

“It is now.” you can’t help the smile on your face. 

He fights off returning it before he gives in with a cocky grin. 

“Nice try.” he sighs, “but that’s not going to work for this.” 

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” 

He glances away and sighs heavily. You can feel him trying to pull away but for every tug away he tries to take you follow. It’s a dance of wills you’re not willing to lose. 

“Stop.” he says and you catch his hand in yours, refusing to let him go. 

“Dabi, please.” you breathe. “Just listen for a moment.”

“Not here. Not out in the open.” he glances around. “If you’re hell bent on this then we need to go somewhere else, darlin’.” 

You can read the frigid shut down he’s forcing himself through. It locks through his muscles and he returns to the bored, uninterested mask he always does. He won’t be himself outside. Where others can see. 

You don’t blame him. 

You lace your fingers through his and tug his arm back toward where you came from. He lets you lead him and although he gives your enclasped hands a wry look he doesn’t pull away. It sends a thrill through your stomach, knowing he’s at least willing to indulge your fantasies. 

The memory of your dreams surfaces as the warmth from his hand spreads into yours. In your dream he’d caressed your body, sensually tracing his fingertips against your skin. The hungry growl and groans he’d let out turn your face red and you hope he doesn’t see. Just in case he thinks this might be for other reasons. 

Dealing with these wayward thoughts might be harder than you thought. The attraction you feel for Dabi only grows the closer he is to you. The more skin that touches yours ignites your desire for him. It’s hard to breathe by the time you make it to your home and tug him inside. 

He doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his boots and strolls to the couch. Watching you carefully, he stands with his hands in his pockets. Silent. Stoic. That same bored facade sewn onto his face. But you can feel his heart through the bond between you two and it’s beating as fast as your own. 

“Well, Princess,” he drawls, “now what?” 

There’s a flicker of lust in his eyes as you meet his gaze. A goading that taunts your own senses. Daring you to recognize it. Displaying it all just for you to see.

It has to be your imagination. 

“Things have changed.” you say plainly, hating the awkward way the words spill from your lips. 

You don’t feel like his attention should be so intently on you. You aren’t a seductress. You’re not well versed in the tantalizing banter and dirty talk like you know he is. It’s the confidence he exudes when he hides that tricks you into thinking you’re out of place. The control his eyes command with just looking at you causes your heart to race. 

He quirks a brow and steps closer to you. You copy the movement, hypnotized by his energy. Losing control over your grip on your own emotions you can feel the flood of the bond between you two. You’re drunk on the feel of being near him, the buzzing life that shimmers between the two of you. You want to touch him- want to hear his words whispered against your skin. 

“I don’t want you gone.” you whisper, reaching for him. 

He steps into your grasp and tugs you closer to him. As if he’s controlled by the same haze you are. Locked into the feeling of the murky and misty emotion buzzing out of control. The desire to be closer has never been this strong. 

What’s different?

You try to think about it but it’s hard to think of anything else but him. Hard to tear your eyes from his. You’re lucky you can even remember how to breathe although you’re sure it’s only because you’re mimicking his actions. Like a puppet pulled into this dance as you two twirl in motions that aren’t your own.

“What made you change your mind?” he whispers huskily and you can hear his control dripping away with every word. 

“I don’t know.” you admit, unable to say anything else. 

Your dreams, maybe? The connection between you two? It could be any number of things, honestly. 

“I just know the farther away you are,” you breathe, “the worse I feel.” 

“Hm.” he hums and dips his head to yours. “When did you figure this out?”

You breathe in his scent, eyelids drooping hazily as his lips near yours. 

“An hour ago.” 

Then, his lips are on yours. It’s a slow, powerful motion at first that turns into a hungry devouring quickly. It’s like he can’t get enough as quickly as he would like. His hands cup your face gently as his fingertips tease into your hairline, pressing into your skin with fervor. It isn’t long before you’re lost in the feel of his lips and hands, loving the warmth spreading from him into you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, speaking his name with every beat. Dabi, Dabi, Dabi. He’s all you need, all you want, all you could ever imagine yourself having. You’re lost in the feel of him. Putty in his hands as he molds you into a shape that fits against him perfectly. 

The rush of your quirk activating without your control makes you both shiver and Dabi gives a deep growl. 

“I don’t want your damn quirk.” he pulls away, breathing heavily. You see the surge of power grow in his eyes and feel the pang of hurt start to spread. Hadn’t your quirk gotten you into enough trouble with him? Wasn’t that enough? 

Your thoughts melt away from your control, still drunk on the idea and the irreplaceable taste of Dabi. You can’t focus on anything else when he’s this close to you. After you just kissed him for the second time in your living room, funnily enough.

“I-I didn’t mean to...I.. can’t control it.” you whisper back and lean in for more.

He doesn’t push you away. 

“Are you saying you can’t control yourself around me?” he laughs and holds your face inches from his own. 

His thumbs brush beneath your eyes and you melt in his touch. The soft and rough feel of him. The cool and warm brush of his body, of his skin. It’s all intoxicating. It’s overloading your senses, your body bending to his every whim and touch. 

“Yes.” you breathe and he chuckles. 

He snakes one arm around your waist and holds you to him. Pressed flush against him you can’t help the sharp intake of air at the sensation of every curve and indent of his body. It’s a hungry rush that bolts through you and he watches you with his half lidded eyes, drinking in every noise and face you make. 

Nothing has felt as right as it feels when you’re kissing him. You’re sure of this. Not having helped the countless people you did before. Not thinking of helping people after him. Nothing compares to the complete sense of rightness that floods through your system as his lips meet yours. 

‘Yesyesyes’ your body craves his touch, every place his hands roam burning for more. Your quirk is already overflowing through your system and the power that runs through him is apparent as he struggles to keep his breathing even. 

    “Sorry,” you breathe as you catch him grit his teeth. “I can try and get it under control-”

“That’s not it.” he interjects as he backs you into the wall. “That’s not it at all.” 

His breath is hot on your neck and you bite back a mewl as his lips press dangerously close kisses to your ear. His hand moves from your face to the wall, pressing a firm fist into it as he heaves breath in and out. He’s balling up the fabric of your shirt in his fist at your waist, a deep, quiet grumble of a groan releasing from his lips. 

“Then what is-” you can’t get the words out as his mouth devours the rest, his tongue slipping into your mouth without a warning. 

This is different. His posture, his words- Dabi can barely control himself as you’re at his mercy. He’s drinking in every gasp and mewl he can pull from you with his lips. His body is pressing against yours, his knee sliding between your legs and pressing against you. You can barely breathe between his lips and his body, your mind spinning with the essence of him. 

“Wha?” you whisper as you pull yourself away from him for air. You need to know what's changed. What's happening? Why is he holding you so tightly- pressing into you with so much fervor? 

“Shh.” he whispers and nips at your ear. The moment his lips touch the skin beneath it you come undone in his hands. Any further protests or questions scatter from your brain before you can even remember what you were trying to say. You wrap your legs around his waist and Dabi gives a happy hum at the motion before his lips are on yours again. 

You’re lost to the desire to be rid of everything but him. Melting and reforming with him beyond your own comprehension, your energy soaring to an all new high as you drift along with Dabi. His body feels like an anchor to your restless soul. A shore you finally come across after years and years of swimming endlessly. 

He’s the answer to the question you never knew you were asking. A divine gift into your dark, secluded and lonely life. A present wrapped in mystery and flames, burning brighter and brighter just for you. A beacon for your lost, wary soul. He is rest when you need it, sustenance when you’re empty. Filling when you’re starving. Everything right in the world aligned just for his presence to be in your life. You can feel his heartbeat alongside your own, feel his body pressing against your own, his soul tying into yours around the bond between you two. Winding around it in knots that seal the two of you together. 

Have you ever felt this complete? How could anything before this even compare after you’ve tasted the wine of his being? Life is changing rapidly and permanently as you wind around him.

And you never, ever want it to go back to the way it was before.

#ichor #dabixreader #dabi x reader #dabixyou #dabixy/n #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #reader insert #fanfic #mha #bhna #my hero academia #boko no hero academia #divinewhimsy #dabi

[heli0s-writes]

As it Was

Summary:  Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound, returned to the timeline he ran from: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same. Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader A/N: ANGST. Re-written Post-endgame kinda thing because I’m bitter. 3.3k word count. Very inspired by Hozier’s “As it Was” :^) 

As it Was Masterpost

There is a roadway.

The tires crunch over rock and gravel as Steve drives down the familiar path. Flanked by overgrown grass and wildflowers in full bloom, insects flutter around the petals, sunlight glistening on waxy blades of green. He can smell it, even inside the car, ignited in his nose and blazing into his chest.

The smell of summer. The crushed earth beneath muddied boots.

He can taste the watermelon sugar, tingling on the sweet tongue encased in an even sweeter mouth.

Your bright pink lips wet with cold bites of fruit. He loved the way you would collect the smooth seeds and pinch them between your teeth. He loved the way you’d spit them into his face—silly with joy under the shade of a tree. Too slow, baby!

He can hear your laughter in the dead air-conditioned chamber of one of many compound cars. If he could bottle it up into a music box and wind it up just to hear now, he would.

He would.

Steve’s heart twists tighter as the road continues its winding way deeper through the thicket of verdant trees. Sunlight pours through in golden rays, slipping past the cracks of parted leaves. A pathway the two of you walked many times over, hand-in-hand.

There’s a separation of the blades to the left, a well-worn spot leading into an open space where you would spread the picnic blanket, stuff him full of cold cut sandwiches and fruit pie. Iced lemonade, tart. Then, under the light of the sun, or moon, or any time or season in-between, you would wrap yourself over him, love him so sweetly he could weep now.

But then is not now.

For the past three years of your time, then had been now.

But now that he’s back... now is something else.

His phone rings, echoing through the car with its shrill tittering. Sam’s number appears, as it has been every five minutes for the past two hours of his journey. Sam calling. Sam leaving messages. Sam texting.

Don’t, Cap. Don’t go there. It’s changed, Cap. Things have changed. Trust me, man. It’s better if you don’t go.

But Steve has to. He has to change your mind. Make you forgive him because he loves you so much. He has to make it all go back to as it was.

Back then, on the platform, he had been sure. In the sepia-colored minutes of his wayward past, he had been sure. That unreachable possibility had become so nearly tangible he could grab it in his hands. He was inches from her—from Peggy, and it took him decades away from you.

So, he leapt. He followed his foolish boyish heart to its dream. He told you the night before under the awning in front of the cabin, windchimes striking in the draft, fireflies all around. He’s never been a part of this world, not truly. He’s got to go back to where he belongs.

With Peggy, you mean?

You cried and cried then, wrapping your arms around your middle, refusing to say anything else, and he had never seen you so shattered. But he had been sure.

And then, only four weeks into the returned years of Steve Rogers, suddenly, like a cold hand tugging him awake, the dream slipped.

He wasn’t sure after all.

Sam calls again, but Steve is obstinate. The cabin peeks over the hill, sunken in the distance of the field just as he remembered—the little cobblestoned well in the field, string lights around the perimeter, mailbox at the edge of the road, rainbow pinwheels you’d planted in the ground because they’re cute, Steve.

From the thick branch of the oak tree you have hung a tire swing-- endearing, and so like you. Next to it is a picnic table where a single copper watering can sits in the middle, bunches of wildflowers sticking out. A tangle of yellow and green. Like your arms wrapped around his waist, linked fingers squeezing him tightly, playfully, pretending you could crush him.

Gonna kill you! Crack ya ribs!

He would grunt dramatically behind a muffled chuckle, Yes, baby. I’ve died! You’re so—ugh! Strong! B-Bucky! Avenge me!

Bucky would roll his eyes with a smirk, You two are nauseating.

You would stick your tongue out, turn it back around to Steve and lick a stripe from his throat to his chin, making him shudder all over as he watched your pretty pink mouth curl into a grin, and growl. Steven Grant Rogers, growled, and Bucky‘d throw his hands up and abscond before his eyes might see Captain America do something indecent.

He didn’t have that with Peggy. He didn’t have the twinkling of your mischievous eyes, the flame of your passion. He only had the bitter chill of your absence and the stark realization that a first love and a true love are two different things.

Sam warned him when he arrived at the compound: It’s different now, she doesn’t do the superhero thing anymore, she’s got another life now, but he wouldn’t listen. He can’t. He must hope that some things are the same, that your love is the same.

How long would you wait for me?

Steve pulls the car into the patch of trodden grass he once parked in, steps out, and closes the door quietly. There’s a clattering inside before the wooden door creaks open— as it always has, even after he loosened and tightened all its hinges— it still creaks, same as ever.

Your shape in the doorway.

One leg at a time, you emerge.

A weightless gauze dress hangs from your frame as you linger in the opening, back turned to him. In one hand is a small twine basket lined with gingham fabric. A pair of garden shears sit nestled inside. He remembers this— the walks to clip flowers and pick berries. You would put the berries in the pies, place the blossoms and leaves in mason jars all over the countertops until it looked wild in the house, too.

Your hair is longer, he smiles as he continues to watch, gazing at the loose braid you’ve fashioned your locks into. You used to complain about how fast it would grow, annoyed at how the buzzed side with the sharp chevron pattern needed to be maintained closely.

He supposes you’ve grown tired of the upkeep. You’ve let it grow out now.

The braid is new. The dress is new. But the way you lean into the house, so relaxed and carefree, that is familiar.

Steve is unsure how to approach. He doesn’t want to startle you, even though his very presence is startling. He knows your capabilities, and with those razor-sharp shears next to your elbow he wouldn’t try it. No, you couldn’t crush his ribs, but you could slice him gullet to belly in a second.

He opens his mouth to call your name, but the door creaks louder as you lean down and push it further back into the house, urging faintly. You turn, duck your torso behind the wall, leaving a deliberate space by your legs.

And then he sees it. The change Sam warned him about. The life.

His heart drops. And trembles. And feels like it could burst entirely.

Two tiny bare feet tap forward, kicking with each step. A happy, shrill, cry leaps into the air as the boy clumsily jumps one foot at a time, and lands past your dress.

The child.

“Wait for me, baby,” you call, still tucked halfway inside, “Wait for mama.”

“Mama!” He sputters and giggles, “Mama!” Mama.

God. The boy is beautiful. He is barefoot and his face is eclipsed by a canvas bucket hat, shielding the plump, pale skin of him from the summer sun. Even if Steve can’t see his face yet, he knows, because of you, any child would be perfect. A cherub. A little cherub that could have been his.

“I’m coming, just… let me get my hat. And sunscreen for you. Ah, mama has been so bad with that sunscreen.” There is more fumbling as you drop the basket on your arm into the dark house and briefly slip inside.

The boy stops at the step leading down, pondering his own confidence to tread forward. He sits, instead, letting his bottom save any potential fall before he scoots his legs over. After braving the first step, he looks up. He blinks slowly, and Steve catches sight of his enormous blue eyes, and long lashes, button nose, rosy red cheeks, slightly open mouth slack with surprise and a little bit of wonder.

“Mama.” He says, before tilting his head, “Mama, Mama. Body! Some here.”

“Someone’s here?”

You quickly emerge, hand fisting a wide-brimmed straw hat, arm reaching forward to scoop your child up and away. He is plopped firmly on your jutting left hip before you tear the hat off your head, stare into the tall and broad figure of a man you have known too well. A surprised breath tears itself from your throat.

“Steve?”

His mouth jerks into a careful smile. Nothing he had practiced during the car ride feels right in this moment; all his words have been tossed into the yard by the hands of a three-year-old boy. The hat drops from your hand, quietly slides on the dusty wooden patio, speckles of it catching light and blowing away in the easy wind. You blink, eyes shifting side to side as if questioning your reality.

“Steve?”

His name slips off your tongue so sweetly and he can’t help but close his eyes to memorize you again. That voice, his name, the years have passed, and he hasn’t forgotten it. He is so goddamn sorry to have left it at all.

From the first time you called it, to the first time you whispered it, promised your allegiance to it, to the first time you sobbed it, following him into the unknown and the darkness for five years. No matter how black the night, he had you.

Your love was unmoved.

“Sweetheart,” He pleas, stepping forward with a shaky outstretched hand.

You stand frozen like a statue, everything stiff and still except for the fluttering of your creamy dress and the boy on your hip, babbling freely. His little fingers and their little fingernails prod and poke at your neck, grabbing onto the strands that frame your face—too short to stay in the braid.

God. You’re beautiful. You glow, softened by the years without fighting and training, tanned by the sunlight, kissed by the breeze and rain and butterfly wings, and everything else but him.

“Mama, mama. Want down, down!”

The boy squeezes and releases his soft fists, reaching out and kicking your back with his foot. He begins to grunt and whine, head thrown behind and lolling over at Steve. “Down!”

“Hey,” Steve smiles, taking a finger to caress the boy’s palm, calming his motions, “What’s your name?”

You slowly turn to look at your child, eyes beginning to focus on him, as if suddenly remembering his weight perched on your side. A quick breath is sucked into your lungs as he blinks and grins, laughing. “Jams! This is mama an’ this is Jams.”

“J-James.” You correct with a broken, wet, laugh, “H-he’s.. his name—it’s James.”

Steve watches him continue to thrash against your side out of joy, now, as if being held by you is a game in itself. He brings your hair to his mouth, blubbering into it, giggling when it tickles his face. He taps on your collar with a finger, gnaws impishly on your shoulder until a line of drool trickles down. Then, he laughs again, and pushes his cheeks into it, hugging your bicep tightly.

The boy—the angel—James. Steve feels himself clench up with the new knowledge. His name is James.

“James?” There is betrayal in the way he questions it. As much as he tries to steel it, a tiny rupture creeps through the single syllable.

You pull the boy close to your body, maneuvering until you’re holding him with both arms, one slanted over his back, the other under his bottom. He sighs and leans his head onto your shoulder, makes soft noises of contentment. “Mama… walk? Go for a walk, mama.”

Between your overcast eyes and Steve’s inspecting blue ones, James is tucked like a pebble in a cobblestone wall, desperately holding back the torrent from both sides. You grip him unwaveringly, shush him now for the time being.

“Is he—Bucky? He’s Bucky’s?”

Steve inspects the front yard, the blindingly hopeful curtain finally lifting from his eyes—there are three seats on the porch, three flowers painted on the mailbox, three little stumps further away surrounding an extinguished fire.

A home—his home, his place, now filled in with the bulk of someone else. And not just anyone else, he thinks bitterly, but Bucky. His best friend, now his old lover’s new lover. It spins him out of control.

Your face scrunches up with disdain, mouth twisting into a scowl he’s known rarely, but still—he knows it.

“Yes, Steve.” You spit, nostrils flaring with anger, “He’s named after his father. He’s named after his real father.”

Steve frowns, broken-hearted, apologetic, confused. Your eyes have welled up with unshed tears, your lips pinched tightly together, as if holding back your words will keep the tears at bay, too. He doesn’t know what you mean as he stares vacantly at your protective stance.

But then he sees it.

He sees it when James grunts, bored now of a conversation that is years beyond his interest and comprehension. He beats his fists on your chest and leans back in agony.

His hat tumbles from his crown. Down, down, it falls noiselessly and when Steve looks back up to where his perfect little head is—returned to your collar, he sees brilliant flaxen curls, catching sunbeams.

Blindingly gold—almost white.

James twists his little body around and stares at Steve with some mysterious indulgence now that they are both wholly revealed to each other.

“He was there for me, you know.” You whisper, heavy teardrops running down to your chin, pooling until they barely hang on. “He was there the entire time. Nine whole agonizing months, knowing that I was growing something that was yours. I had nobody but Bucky.”

You press your lips to James’ head, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin, “I was out of my mind with grief. Th-thought, I couldn’t—I couldn’t have it. Couldn’t have a baby that was yours—you’d left me. You left what we had for something that was barely a dream, Steve.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t.”

“Bucky was there.” You continue, ignoring Steve’s confession. He bites his tongue, hopes it draws blood, hopes in secret you might take his very life from him. He can’t stand to be alive anymore, staring now at two people he left behind.

“Bucky was there, and he loved me through it. And when this little… when this sweet boy—” you press your eyes to his forehead, “When this boy came, we held each other and wept.”

A little laugh is muffled in James’ hair.

“So, yeah. He’s named after his real father, not his biological one.”

James leans his face towards yours, places his palms onto your cheek and pats the wetness away, “Mama. No more rain, mama. Mama, sunny outside.”

You burst apart, crumbling into tears against his little palm, pressing kisses to his fingertips, and Steve crumbles too. The boy, the precious boy, who is both his and not his, turns and looks at him earnestly. You whisper to him, kiss him on the cheek, Mama’s okay, baby. Mama’s got you with her now. Sunshine boy.

And then you turn your eyes to him. Those once doting eyes he always found gazing longingly, even after he was yours. Now they cut him, sharp and cold, holding him in their deep, dark light.

“You need to leave, before he comes home.” You whisper over the sound of insect wings and birds in the distance. The trees rustle and sway, as if egging your words on.

Home. Your home is with Bucky. Not Steve, not anymore.

“He’ll want to see you, but not like this.”

He wouldn’t even know what to say to Bucky. He wouldn’t know what to expect to hear, either. You and Bucky, and his son—your son, Steve’s son, Bucky’s son. All strung up together in a terrible web, waiting for the spider.

Somehow, he feels like the spider.

“Steve,” you call, and for a second, he hears it lovingly. Like how you might have called his name in front of the fireplace, nestled in his arms, snow settling in sheets outside. Steve, I love you.

“Steve.” It’s firm again, hard and cutting, ice chips crunched through your teeth, “When you left, you left Bucky, too. In your absence, we found each other. You didn’t just break me, Steve; you broke him. And you need to go, because I won’t let you do that to him again.”

You don’t have to say it, but he can parse it from your clenched jaw and the way you aim your words at him. You love Bucky.

The trajectory of the truth burns straight through his guts. It churns and twists and drugs his entire being until it leaves every last cell numb.

Once upon a time, you loved him, too.

But that was before he knew the darkness, before he knew the possibility and lost himself in the what if, the then, burning away the now and the love he already had.

You set James down softly in the dirt after landing soft kisses to his cheeks, watch his toes flex and grip the grass. He places the hat back over his head, lopsided, but on, regardless. He bounces on his feet, bending his knees and getting a feel for the ground beneath him. The silly ritual completes when he pads away, chasing a hovering dragonfly. Every few seconds, he looks back and laughs.

Steve’s heart cracks open with every inch of the boy’s smile.

The two of you stand for what seems like an eternity, trying to find something to end it on. He can’t do anything more than laugh resentfully, because if he doesn’t, he’ll cry, and he’ll never stop. It comes out as two clipped scoffs before he splinters anyway.

So, he nods, accepts the defeat he’s given himself and lets the tears trickle down his face to match you. Blinking the sea from your eyes, you sniffle loudly and turn, splitting the grass with your feet to follow the trail James has made into the field.

Pulling out of the driveway, Steve watches you next to your son, his son, Bucky’s son— that beautiful boy, blue-eyed like both of them. You bend and lift him, toss him gently, nuzzle him and smile before you take him down into the grass and continue the walk away from the house. He plucks flowers and raises them up and you let him tuck them inelegantly into your braid, still lovely.

Steve closes his eyes one last time to sear the image into his mind. He interjects himself into the scene, walking hand-in-hand down that habitual path. He imagines James on his hip, stares into the phantom face of that boy of his, your laughter ringing next to him like the wind. He laughs and laughs, and cries and cries. And then, he drives until the house is gone from the rearview mirror.

No, it will never be as it was again.

The dream, honeyed, sweet, as beautiful as it may be, it would only be half as beautiful as the truth could have been. Half as beautiful as the boy. Half as beautiful as you.

Next

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader x bucky #steve x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #post endgame #fanfiction #reader insert #as it was heli0s

[skinsharpenedteeth]

kinktober 5 - sterek

A/N: Here’s the long awaited Sterek smut! Prompts filled: Office sex, Clothed/Unclothed, Size kink, Prostitution

Hope you guys enjoy it! You can also read it on AO3.

Smut after the cut!

 Stiles tapped his fingers nervously against his jean covered thighs as he waited for the elevator to reach the floor Erica had indicated in her text message. Apparently, some bored CEO needed a little late-night strange to keep the midnight oil burning and Stiles had been up in the rotation. He sighed through his nose as he thought about how long this might take since he had some homework to finish up before class in the morning. Why he’d signed up for early morning classes he’d never know…

The elevator dinged its arrival and the gold-plated doors swooshed open. He was looking at a white and grey marble lobby with glass doors that led into a cubicle farm with offices lining the outside walls. It looked claustrophobic to Stiles, especially if you were in one of the cubicles, but then again… you weren’t literally selling your ass to make rent money either so maybe he shouldn’t judge too harshly. Apparently natural sunlight was the tradeoff though and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand it. He stepped out of the elevator and dug his phone out of his back pocket. He looked down at the screen again to memorize the office he was looking for and pushed his way through the glass doors into the dark, silent office beyond. Even without the text directions he would’ve been able to find the office he wanted since it was in the farthest corner from the cubicles and it was the only one with the lights on. He mentally prepared himself and walked through open doorway.

One of the most beautiful men Stiles had laid eyes on was sitting at the large, dark cherry desk in the center of the office. Stiles could only see him in profile, but it was enough to understand that this guy was striking enough to never ever need to call for a midnight whore. He could probably just stick his dick out of the front door of the building, and someone would suck it for him for free. He was tan with dark, almost black hair that looked impossibly soft and a frame that said he hadn’t stopped working out since high school. He sat up straight at his L-shaped desk and was typing furiously on his computer, brows furrowed as he concentrated on the screen. Stiles could see leftover takeaway containers in his trash and the office smelled like coffee and Thai food. He came to the front of the desk and stood awkwardly for a moment, waiting for the man to take notice of him.

“Erica send you?” the man asked, voice serious but higher than Stiles expected. He’d asked this without stopping his work or glancing Stiles’ direction. Stiles cleared his throat before answering.

“Yeah, yep that’s me. What can I do for you?” Stiles asked, a little awkwardly. He didn’t know how he felt about being practically ignored like this. The man stopped typing and finally turned to look Stiles over. His cold hazel eyes traveled up and down Stiles’ body taking note of the too-tight jeans, the black batman tee two sizes too small and the red flannel. He looked wholly unimpressed, but Stiles figured if he’d wanted someone who would come in looking like they worked there, he should’ve negotiated for Jackson instead of the Young College Twink. His eyes came up to meet Stiles’ and he turned his chair and body to face him full on. He was wearing a slate colored suit with a cool toned button down underneath. His cufflinks glinted when they caught the light and his watch obviously could’ve paid for a semester or two of Stiles’ tuition. He was younger than forty, but how much younger Stiles couldn’t gauge except for his obviously high status within the office around them. When he spoke again, it startled Stiles a little since he’d been ruminating on exactly what type of work was done here.

“Strip for me,” he commanded, leaning back and interlacing his fingers in the air in front of him. Stiles looked at him for a second before stepping out of his shoes and pushing off his flannel. He had never mastered taking off his clothes in a sexy, alluring manner. He was a hooker, not a stripper. He let his clothes fall to the floor in a pile next to him until he was standing naked and almost shivering in the office air. The air conditioners hummed easily throughout the office and it was cool enough to make Stiles’ skin pimple. The walls were glass and he could see down into other buildings around them, but the windows were all dark. He wasn’t terribly worried about someone watching them. The man’s eyes swept over his body again.

“Get yourself hard,” he directed, still watching Stiles with a scrutinizing gaze that somehow caused a flush of heat to go through Stiles’ body. He didn’t know why he found this hot today with this man when normally this kind of exhibitionism wasn’t his bag, but he’d do as he was told. Some Johns liked to feel like you were there as an enthusiastic participant and would dock your fee if they saw you getting soft on them. Stiles could hold an erection while mentally going through biology flash cards, but getting there sometimes was a challenge.

He gripped himself loosely and started pulling on dick to get it hard. He closed his eyes, placed himself back in his bedroom in the apartment he shared with his best friend where no one could see him and he was doing this for fun. He brought his other hand up and roughly rubbed a thumb over one of his nipples. He pinched and pulled at the nub causing it to tighten and little jolts of desire began to run down to his cock. He left his nipple alone and started to knead and pull on his balls so he’d come to full hardness. When his cock felt solid enough, he let go and opened his eyes to look at the stranger. He was still watching him over his interlaced fingers, though his eyes were now darker, and Stiles could see the straining outline of his cock through his expensive suit pants.

“Come over here,” the stranger said, scooting further back from his desk and motioning to where he wanted Stiles to stand. He did as he was asked, leaning his naked ass against the cool wood of the desktop. He stared down at the stranger and waited. His gaze looked hungry now and it made Stiles cock throb with the need for one of them to do something to ease the pressure between his legs. The stranger unbuttoned his pants and pulled his pants and underwear down far enough to pull out his perfectly massive uncut penis. Stiles mouth watered just looking at it. It was fat and a little longer than normal, the mushroom tip peaking past the foreskin and already beading with precum.

“Are you prepped?” the man asked calmly as his hand slowly stroked over his girth, pulling the foreskin back from the head and then pushing it over, and Stiles had to swallow the flood of saliva in his mouth before answering.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound unaffected, but his voice betrayed him by coming out high and breathy as he stared longingly at the man’s erection. He never got fucked by guys this good looking who were also packing a cock made for video.

“Then bend over the table and spread your legs for me,” he said, waiting for Stiles to comply. Stiles turned his body and bent over the table, pressing his heated flesh into the mirror-like finish, his nipples and cock jumping at the touch of cold against them. He widened his stance and waited patiently. He could hear a door opening behind him and soon felt the cool smearing of lube against his hole. Three fingers pushed into him without ceremony and he exhaled noisily at the unexpected feeling. He thought this beautiful, dark-haired Adonis would surely just jam his cock into him and start pounding away. He didn’t expect for him to finger fuck him first, but that is what he was doing. He pushed and withdrew his fingers in a smooth rhythm, twisting until Stiles let out a quick, electrified yelp when he dragged the pads over his prostate. As soon as that happened, the fingers disappeared leaving Stiles wondering if he’d somehow fucked up.

“You ready?” he heard the man ask from behind him. Stiles heard the creak of the chair and then he could feel the warm line of his body close behind his thighs and his stomach curled in delighted anticipation.

“What’s you name?” Stiles asked suddenly. He could feel the mental pause hit the room when he did, momentarily breaking the spell that they’d created together.

“Why?” the stranger asked, obviously nonplussed.

“So I know what to scream out when you’re railing me,” Stiles answered, daring to peak over his shoulder at the stranger. The man was giving Stiles a sexy smirk and shaking his head slightly.

“Derek. Call me Derek,” he answered after a beat. Stiles nodded and turned his body back onto the table.

“Okay Derek, come at me,” Stiles challenged, grinning at the huff of laughter he heard from behind him. The laughter didn’t last as Derek started pushing his fat cock past Stiles’ rim. The stretch almost ached, but it felt so, so good. Stiles felt full and getting fuller as the initial push to bury Derek inside of him seemed to last forever. Stiles was starting to sweat by the time he finally felt Derek’s balls resting against his perineum.

“Shit, fuck, okay now… Goddamn, you’re fucking big,” Stiles swore, turning his head to lean his forehead against the desktop as he waited for his muscles to relax a little around the thick shaft pushing at them.

“Fuckin’ flirt,” Derek answered derisively from behind him. Stiles took in a breath to reply but was stopped short as Derek pulled his hips back and gave a short, pointed thrust back into him, rocking Stiles’ body over the desk. Stiles grit his teeth and swore, but Derek kept going. He started with slow, shallow thrusts but before too long he was rocking back and snapping his hips forward, his cock splitting Stiles wide on the table. Stiles wanted to hate it, wanted to be professional and fake moan, fake pant, fake enjoy the situation, but since Derek had located his prostate he’d been nailing it with every other forward thrust and Stiles was just trying not to shoot before the customer did. He was leaking precum all over the desk beneath him and his cock slid through the mess with every jolt Derek gave his body, driving him fucking mad.

Derek was getting close; Stiles could tell by his stuttered breathing and the desperation starting to bleed into his thrusts. Stiles wondered if he’d unload inside him, paint his hole and make him clench to keep it in or if he was going to paint his skin in hot, wet stripes. He found he really didn’t care which Derek chose because with a few well-aimed thrusts, Derek had him coming apart onto his desk, cum flooding underneath him and smearing between his skin and the highly lacquered wood finish. It was like that was what he’d been waiting for too because Derek started to fuck Stiles faster as soon as the last drop was finished leaking from his spent cock. Stiles grit his teeth, rim tightening as much as it could as he forced himself to ride out the oversensitivity from his orgasm. Derek’s thrusts were almost violent, and Stiles knew he’d have a bruise across the top of his thighs tomorrow from the edge of his desk.

“Derek, fucking cum already!” he shouted, ready to crawl over the desk to get away from the animal nailing him from behind. It took half a dozen more thrusts, but then he felt the warm gush of fluid inside of him and Derek’s body stilled, a groan like he was dying pushing out of him as he emptied himself into Stiles’ body. They stayed where they were for a minute or two afterward, bodies thrumming with satiation and coming down from the high of arousal and completion. Finally, Derek pulled out and Stiles felt cold inside without him. He clenched and started pulling his muscles together to close up what felt like his gaping asshole. He felt Derek’s fingers slide up his taint through the liquid leaking out of him and push it back into him roughly.

“You’re making a mess,” he commented. Stiles heard the swoosh of air from his leather roller chair as Derek plopped down behind him with a loud exhalation. Slowly Stiles straightened his body, looking down to where he’d cum all over the desktop.

“If you think that’s a mess…” he started, gingerly sidestepping to get out from between Derek and his desk.  He turned to see a smug look on Derek’s face as he eyed the streaks across the surface of his desk, marring the perfect mirror shined surface. Then he turned and looked at the same mess streaking Stiles stomach and groin.

“When you go to the restroom, grab a couple paper towels and clean this up. I’ll transfer your payment while you’re out,” Derek said, pointing past the office door towards the hallway. Stiles left the office still naked, not wanting to get his clothes messy with cooling jizz. He spent a couple minutes in the restroom with warm water and shitty pink office soap cleaning himself off before pulling a couple more and wetting them with the same to take back to Derek’s office. When he got back it was like he’d never been there except for the mess on the desk. Derek was back to staring at the computer screen and typing rapidly. Stiles eyed him for a minute before shrugging and cleaning his cum off the wood. When he was finished, he pulled his clothes on with his back to Derek.

“Think you can come again tomorrow night?” Derek asked into the silence between them. Stiles turned and saw that he was still not looking at him, but obviously his attention was divided because his keystrokes had slowly minutely as he waited for Stiles to answer.

“If you got the cash, I’ve got the ass,” Stiles drawled out easily.

“Good. Same time. If you bring a plug I’ll give you a bonus,” Derek answered. Stiles gave him a two-finger salute and turned to leave the office. Even though his body ached, and his ass felt hollow after such a fuck, he found he was excited about more than just the money when he returned the next day. He’d have to thank Erica for the job.

#sterek #sterek fic #kinktober #kinktober 2020 #prompt fill #stiles stilinski #derek hale

[javisjeanjacket]

Hoax - (Poe dameron x fem!reader)

Folklore series Part 4/4

A/N: im so sad this series is overrrrr! Hopefully this is a fitting finale piece. I loved writing such emotional fics and loved seeing you all love them too:) this one is mostly angsty with a splash of fluff. go forth and be emo my babies.

If i used your gif or image let me know and I will give you your cred! :)

Warnings: uhhh none?? did hailee finally write something family friendly??? who is she we don’t know her. 

Word Count: 2.7K

~~~~~~~~~~

'Poe, please.' Tears streamed down your face in twos and threes. Your lips quivered and you crossed your arms over your chest. 'Give me a reason to stay and I will.'

Poe's mouth opened and closed. He could see the end barreling towards the two of you. He could envision you packing up your things and how the door would hiss closed after you left him. A twinge of guilt shot through his heart as he remembered himself wiggling into his flight suit and you sleeping alone in the bed next to him. Pressure boiled in his ears and his heartbeat throbbed against his eardrums.

The pilot suddenly jerked up from his pillow, his mouth gaping and his eyes awake. His mind turned softly from dream to reality and he looked quickly to your side of the bed, vying for the promise that his fear had just been a dream.

You slumbered there next to him soundly. Your fingers stretched out across the sheet towards him, your hair laying in a mess around you.

Poe's heart still thumped wildly against his chest and he could feel it in his shaking hand. He reached out and gently tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. He hadn't had those nightmares in several months; ever since you had gotten back. 

Since you had returned to Base, all of his dreams had been rose-colored; except for last night. And the night before. And the night before that. Reliving his nightmares made anxiety rise in his chest, but he quickly swatted it away. Looking over the image of your sleeping figure, he was struck by your complete beauty. How you still reached for him, even in sleep. He had memorized every curve of your face and how the light glinted off of your hair. He was able to take you with him even when you were apart.

The General took a steadying breath, then twisted and flung his legs off of the bed. He stood, stretched, and meandered to the closet for a change of clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Poe yawned as he thumbed through Black Squadron's flight logs from the day before. He sipped on his steaming cup of caff and squinted his bleary eyes. He set the glowing datapad on the Mess Hall table in front of him and rubbed his face.

The pilot never seemed to feel overwhelmed, even in the heat of battle and the panic of a dire situation, but waiting for your answer to his dramatic deceleration on the beach had seemed to twist his soul into halves. His constant anxiety made him jumpier than he had ever been before, and when  Finn sat in the chair next to him, the pilot jerked in his seat.

"Poe, it’s just me." Finn teased and clapped a hand on his friend's back.

Poe shook his head, his unruly curls falling across his face. "Sorry, I'm just..."

Finn nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I know." The ex-stormtrooper bit his lip and shifted his weight in the chair. "You're probably not ready to hear this but,"

Poe's fiery eyes jumped off of the datapad before him to meet his co-General's.

"We have to send her to Black Spire. Like...today. During briefing."

Poe's eyebrows tensed and he licked his lips as the news washed over him.

"We need her to gather support from the allies that may be left out there. There's nothing we can do. No one else knows how to do what she does. It has to be her."

The many times he had left you to fly amongst enemies for the sake of the Resistance never seemed to weigh on him as heavily as Finn's words did.

"There's no one else who can go?" Poe asked, his voice edgy with pain.  

Finn's warm eyes fell over his panicking friend. He tucked his lips into his mouth. "If anyone else could do it, they would be the one to go. Leia put off sending her out as long as she could and I don't want to do this to you guys, but...we have a First Order to destroy." Finn's hands moved in the space between the two Generals to emphasize his point. "We need her on our side, not just on your side." He said gently.

The Yavinite man nodded that he understood. "How long will she be gone?"

Finn shook his head. "As long as it takes."

Poe's breathing became shallow. "Better make sure her ship is in good shape then." He stood from the table, his caff and datapad still resting there, and walked quickly out of the Mess Hall.

Finn sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. Gathering his friends things to him, he stood to get his own breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 'bring, bring' of your alarm pulled you out of sleep's embrace. You moaned and turned over in bed to silence your blaring holomessager. The device stopped it's noise and you sighed, your eyes still firmly shut. You rolled back over and reached out for the warmth of Poe's body, but you were unable to find it. You peeked one eye open and saw that you were alone in your shared bed. Panic rose in your throat before you strangled it and forced yourself to take a deep breath, to think logically.

'Calm down. He would have woken you up if he had to leave. He's probably just eating with Snap or something.'

Your eyebrows furrowed and you groaned as you sat up. You blinked several times, absorbing the light and the day ahead of you. 

***

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, your worry pushed you towards the Mess Hall. You felt sure that your pilot would be there, already dressed and half way through his breakfast, talking with his Squadron and saving a warm cup of caff for you.

You turned the corner into the dining hall and became alarmed when your gaze never landed on Poe. You caught Snap and Kare's attention though, the couple waving hello as you passed on your way to the serving line.

Kare noticed you first and waved back warmly. Snap quickly caught on and waved to you as well, his mouth full of food.

You snickered at Snap, returned the wave, and waited in line for your breakfast. After taking your tray from the serving crew, you grabbed a ripe joganfruit from the dismal collection of fruit options, and quickly moved through the hall to sit across from Snap and Kare.

"Morning, Wexleys." You smiled as you slid into your seat.

They both nodded and returned the greeting.

"So, how's everything going?" Kare asked, her eyebrow raised.

Heat rose in your cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"You and Poe. It seems like it's going well." Kare suggested.

You nodded. A flash of Poe's fingers clutching your hips so tightly they turned white under the dim light of the Millenium Falcon zipped through your thoughts. You took in a deep breath and replied, "Yeah, it's going well."

Snap's cheeks rouged as he looked over your expression. "That's good to hear."

The tops of your ears turned red and you began to pick at your meal.

"I told Snap the other day that I really missed going to festivals and markets with you. You have better taste than all of us combined." Kare said, quickly changing the subject.

You laughed, "Remember when we went to that one on Hoth?"

Kare snickered as the memory flooded back to her. She doubled over in joy, "Why did we even go to that one?"

You chuckled and held a hand over your mouth that was now full of food. "And remember that guy that tried to sell us ice?"

The three of you erupted with laughter, annoying the sleepy Resistance members scattered across the Mess Hall tables. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, okay, is everyone here?" Finn's voice boomed over the horde of loyal Resistance fighters.

A murmur ran through the crowd, each checking for the other, and your eyes searched again for Poe.

Finn began before his co-General appeared. "Welcome to Morning Briefing, let's get started." The ex-stormtrooper stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "We've got a big day today. Just last night, a transmission came in from one of our scouts in the Outer Reaches."

Your eyes were trained on the commanding Finn when a familiar arm snuck around your waist. You looked from Finn to see Poe wiggling in between the crowd to stand beside you.

"There you are, I've been looking all over for you." You whispered, reaching your lips up to his.

"I know, I'm sorry. I was working on your ship.” He met your lips softly, holding your neck in his hand.

The kiss was quick, but Poe's eyes stayed locked onto yours.

‘Why would he be working on my ship? I haven’t been assigned anywhere-’ Your thoughts built quickly to an unwanted conclusion. 

You turned to look at Finn as Poe moved his lips to the curve of your neck. Your chest hitched with worry. 

"Poe..." You said, gently hit your arm against his stomach.

The man reached another arm around you and drew you even closer to himself.

"Baby, do you know something you’re not telling me?" You whispered, tension building in you chest. 

Poe pulled you so close that his stubble scratched against your soft cheek. His lips continued their dancing over your neck.

"Please, answer me." Your voice broke.

The co-General refused, his hands pressed tightly against the flat of your back.

"Poe." You repeated, your voice now stern. You pushed your body away from him and dread overcame you as you saw his expression.

Poe's eyes were red-ringed, watery, and swollen. He could barely hold your gaze.

‘No, no, no, no.’ Your vision began to swirl. 

"Y/N?" Finn called, interrupting the tsunami of panic washing over you and your boyfriend.

You looked from Poe to Finn and back to Poe again. "Yeah?" You called.

"You're heading to Black Spire today; gaining support from our allies there." Finn said, his eyebrow cocked.

You nodded. "Oh, uh..." You glanced back at the defeated Poe Dameron. "Yes, General."

Finn nodded and continued with his assignments.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The same rucksack you packed years ago, after the heated tears and chilled words exchanged between you and Poe had driven you apart, sat on your bed once again. The muscle in your chest seized, screaming at you to leave it empty, to throw it back into the closet.

Your eyes wandered over the bag and instead of the thinning fabric and frail seams, you saw Poe's smile, beaming and obnoxious the night you made up. You saw him as he was years ago, the very first time he had to leave without you.

You could still hear his reassuring voice, feel his gentle hand on your cheek. 'I think the people we love and the people who love us were once apart of the same star. So, no matter how far I fly or what happens to either of us, we will always be two parts of one.'  His smile lines took up his entire face as his thumb brushed gently over your eyelid.

You squelched the emotion behind your eyes and took a shaking breath. You heard Poe meandering through the closet behind you, pretending to look for any forgotten items of your clothing.

You chewed the inside of your lip and picked at the loose skin around your fingernail.

The man you loved walked slowly up behind you and softly placed a sweater on the bed.

"Sweater." He whispered, his voice crackling with emotion.

A tear ran quickly down your cheek and you looked up from your finger to the far edge of your bedroom. A shelf of your plants sat in the viewport, now doomed to die at the hands of the constantly distracted Poe Dameron.

The General's eyes looked over your features and he gently moved both of his arms around your mid section. He pulled your body to his, resting his chin on top of your head.

You squeezed your eyes shut, relishing in the comfort of him just one more time.

Poe sighed heavily, working to keep his grief pushed down below his throat.

Your tears plopped onto his shirt, creating a pool underneath your cheek. "Why do we always end up sad?" You whispered.

Poe shook his head. "I don’t know.” He let out a deep sigh. “There's no other sadness in the galaxy I love more than you, though." He choked out.

Your chest pounded against his. Everything in your mind crashed into each other. All of your thoughts came plummeting down from their shelves and into an abyss below. You swallowed.

"I guess it doesn't matter now, but...I was going to say yes." You rubbed your running nose on your sleeve.

The pilot's breathing caught, your words colliding with him. "You were?" His voice broke.

You nodded. "I was always going to, I was just afraid. I didn't want..." Flames of emotion licked up your throat. "I didn't want something like this to happen." You began to sob. 

Poe paused, swallowing your words. "Sweetheart, this...this has broken me down."

You nestled your head into his chest, your fingers wrapping around the chain around his neck. 

"I keep having nightmares about..." Poe nodded to emphasize what he was trying to say. "About the last time.  I've got it in my head that we're going to end up happy and old together, but things just keep pushing us apart. I just...I can't let go of it." Tears spilled from his dark eyes. "But I guess," He choked. "I guess I have to."

"Don’t let go of it. Please." You whispered.

The pilot ran a big hand over your head and down your back to rest at the space around your waist. He pressed a firm kiss to the top of your head and rubbed his hands up and down your chilled arms. "It’s just not our time, sweetheart.”

You pushed away from his chest to met his eyes.

Tears decorated Poe’s tan face. 

You reached a shaking hand out to brush the droplets from his skin. A unrelenting wave of grief washed over you.

Poe reached out to grab your outstretched arm. He placed a soft kiss on the beat of your wrist. “Let's get you to the hangar bay." He whispered, his eyes falling from yours to the growing space between the two of you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EPILOGUE

Light from the warm Yavin 4 sun beat down over Poe Dameron's broad shoulders. His muscles tensed as he wrenched the old X-Wing fusion reactor from the ship.

The low call of a flock of Whisperbirds sounded over the treetops surrounding Poe's home and he looked up from his work to watch them pass.

The ex-General tucked his graying hair behind his ear and scratched at his long stubble. His dark eyes fell over the small home he had built himself, it's large windows lit up with the mid-day sunshine. His mind wondered from his work, jumping to thoughts of the woman he loved. How young he had been then, how overzealous. He could still hear her laugh and feel her head resting on his chest. He swallowed tightly as he remembered the heartbreaks they had shared. The cracks in his chest she had put there still ached when he tugged at them too harshly. 

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the screeching of his daughter, running clumsily down the front steps of his home towards him.

Poe smiled and swung his leg back down to his ladder, climbing down to greet her.

"Daddy! Daddy!" She called, her small arms reaching out towards the pilot.

He bent down on his busted knees and wrapped her in his embrace. He placed a kiss on her soft cheek and squeezed her tightly to him. "Did you eat a good lunch, Eida?"

The little girl grinned and giggled. Her tiny hands played with themselves and she danced in place. "Yes, Daddy. Can we please play X-Wing now?"

Poe smiled and stood as his wife followed the black-haired child down the back porch stairs and towards him. "Let's make sure Mommy says it's okay first."

Never in his life had Poe Dameron expected to outlive the Resistance. Never had he expected to have a daughter and a wife and a home he loved. 

You choosing to love him even when it was beyond diffucult, gave him the chance at a new life, a different one. You slid into his embrace easily, just as you had hundreds of times before, and placed a kiss on his stubble-ridden cheek.

"Daddy, please!" Eida cried, her patience wearing thin. Her tiny shoes created happy circles in the dirt as she squirmed. 

"Okay, okay, let's go." Poe surrendered. "Go get your little flight suit." He motioned back towards the house.

You smiled and shook your head as your daughter ran back towards the house to grab her makeshift flightsuit.

"I love seeing you work on your old X-Wing." You whispered to your husband.

Poe squeezed your side softly. "Yeah?" A warm smile pulled at the sides of his lips. 

"Yeah," You smiled. "It reminds me of the good old days."

FOLKLORE TAG LIST: @enamoured-x​ @mcolbz14​ @captain-skytrash​ @mndalorians​ @anetteaneta​ @milleniumvalcon​

What did you think? I really hope you enjoyed reading my work. Just your liking / re-blogging it means a lot. If you have a moment, I would love to hear your thoughts! Tell me what you think via my ask box or a comment always warms my heart!! Thank you again for reading!

Need more reading material? You can visit my Masterlist for more Oscar Isaac character content, as well as my other works.

Want to be kept in the loop? Let me know so I can put your handle in my taglist form. Right now, I’m writing for Poe Dameron, Santiago Pope Garcia, and Din Djarin, but I have plans to expand my SW character list, and eventually add in my favorites from the MCU as well.

Thanks again for reading! Sending love! -hai

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x y/n #folklore series #folklore pt 4 #hai writes #taylor swift #:')