#cursed mental image ig

[isawritesshit]

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

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"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

[444takeomi]

ACCIDENTALLY SEEING YOU NAKED

: ̗̀➛ summary: 1st gen bd walking in on you changing

character(s): shinichiro sano, wakasa imaushi, takeomi akashi, keizo arashi

warnings: female reader, nsfw, nudity, second-hand embarrassment (lol)

wc: 0.8k

a/n: i haven’t written anything overly nsfw in a while so have this ig, i'm currently working on a few longer posts but writer’s block has been kicking my ass😭

: ̗̀➛ shinichiro

shin knew that you were in your room and wanted to ask you something, but he made the mistake of forgetting to knock on your door and decided to just walk in without any warning. he stops mid-sentence as soon as he sees you, the sight of your naked body making him lose his ability to both speak and think, and he immediately forgets what he was even going to ask you in the first place. he tries not to stare, he really does, but with you being the first woman he had seen like this, at least in person, he just can't help himself as his eyes begin tracing along every dip and curve of your body. shin can feel his pants getting tighter as he continues to look you up and down, and it isn't until you tell him to get out that he snaps back into reality, realising that he's been staring at you for way too long. he starts apologising profusely before turning around to leave your room, only to hit his head on the doorframe on the way out. shin never really saw you as anything more than a friend before, but he finds himself unable to look at you the same way again, especially after all the dreams he's had about you since.

: ̗̀➛ wakasa

waka doesn't even think about the fact you might be changing, opening your door and casually walking into your room without bothering to knock first. he isn't prepared for the sight in front of him, his eyes instantly landing on your bare figure and he can't help but smirk in amusement as he watches you attempt to cover yourself with your hands. waka might tease you about it a little, suggesting that you did this on purpose and how it was like you wanted him to walk in on you since you didn't even bother to lock the door, and if you weren't in such a vulnerable position you'd honestly want to slap him. of course he’ll leave as soon as you ask him to, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable after all, although he can't help but find himself stealing one last glance at your body before he closes the door. he's had a thing for you for so long now, having imagined what you might look like underneath your clothes countless times before, but none of his fantasies could ever compare to the real thing. waka can't stop picturing your body underneath his, imagining all the things he wants to do to you.

: ̗̀➛ takeomi

omi will roll his eyes and sigh, acting like this entire situation is somehow your fault despite the fact he was the one who walked in on you. he scoffs at you when you tell him to get out, abruptly turning around because he knows he'll be tempted to look at you otherwise, and he doesn't want you figuring out just how much of an effect you have on him. not to mention he can feel his face getting hot and refuses to let you see the blush spreading across his cheeks, knowing that you’ll never let him live it down. omi snidely tells you that there are locks for a reason and you should learn how to use them, before shutting the door behind him just a little too loudly. despite having been around countless naked women before, he's actually super embarrassed by the whole situation and he feels like an idiot for entering your room without knocking. he holds the bridge of his nose between two fingers as thoughts of your body occupy his mind, and he mentally curses at you for making him feel this way. omi can't get that image out of his head for weeks, jacking off to the thought of you more times than he'd like to admit.

: ̗̀➛ keizo

benkei is very respectful of your privacy, so it's unlikely that he would come into your room without knocking or asking for permission to enter first. however, for the sake of this scenario let's just say that this time you didn't hear him, and so he assumed it was okay to come in since he didn't hear you say otherwise. he’s very flustered upon seeing you undressed but manages to keep his composure, refusing to let his eyes wander as he averts his gaze elsewhere, uttering a small sorry and gently shutting the door again. benkei is so quiet about it that you probably wouldn't have even known he'd walked in on you if you weren't paying attention. he’ll apologise to you properly about it later, saying how sorry he is and that what he did was a complete accident. he's so sincere that of course you forgive him, telling him that the both of you can just forget it ever happened, to which he agrees. but what you don't know is that benkei finds himself getting bricked up to the thought of your body later, and he knows seeing you like that just made trying to get over his crush on you a hundred times more difficult.

please do not translate, repost, or share my writing on any other platforms eg. tiktok

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x you #wakasa imaushi #wakasa x reader #wakasa x you #takeomi akashi #takeomi x reader #takeomi x you #keizo arashi #keizo x reader #keizo x you #benkei x reader #benkei x you #✩444.writings #✩444.drabbles

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

you've been holding out on me (but I can't find a way to hold onto you)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.3k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: dick is so insecure but he's trying so hard ok. reader is still mentally ill but it's all fine in the end

a/n: I don't know why I think it's ok to end with dialogue and just stop writing but here we go ig

You don't hear Dick come home; it's the perk (or curse in this case) of him moving so silently. And of course, he's extra quiet right now. It's past 3am and he's getting home from patrol. He thinks you're asleep. When he gently pushes the bedroom door open, then, to find you sitting on the floor by the foot of your shared bed and curling into yourself, his heart stutters as panic grips him. What's wrong with you? Are you hurt? What happened? And god, of course, the one time you're hurt he's not there, the one time you need him he's gone and he's failed you and of course of course of course -

He focuses, though, stilling the questions before they can pour from his lips as he moves swiftly to crouch in front of you, eyes trailing over your form. You're not visibly injured as far as he can tell, but you have your head buried in your hands so he can't see your face and he doesn't know what's wrong and -

"Baby?" he asks tentatively, clenching his teeth and willing himself to calm down while he moves to put his hands on your shoulders. You flinch at the contact, though, an alarmed sound leaving you as your face shoots up to look at him.

"Jesus Christ Dick, make a noise or something next time," you say, annoyance hardening your tone. Dick feels his shoulders drop in relief ever so slightly; you're upset, yes. You're snapping at him in a way that you never do, so something's clearly wrong, but you're safe. You're not, well, bleeding from anywhere or in any sort of immediate, alarming physical distress. There are tear stains streaking your cheeks, though, and you're curled into yourself like it's offering you some sort of protection, and the image makes Dick's gut twist. 

You're afraid, he realizes. Of him? His hands retract from their spots on your shoulders like touching you is burning him and he jerks back hard enough that he almost loses his balance. 

"Dick?" your voice is practiced, your worry for him taking over as you shove your own emotions aside - god, he can see you doing it. "Hey, it's okay. You didn't… I didn't mean to flinch like that. I'm sorry." Dick makes a strangled sort of noise at your words and reaches out to you before halting and pulling his hand back towards him.

"No," he says firmly, keeping his voice quiet, gentle, soft. "No apologies. This isn't on you. I'm… sorry for scaring you."

"You didn't…" you begin, confusion clear in your voice. "You - no. No, I'm not scared of you, Dick. I'm never - I'm never scared of you." You assure as you move towards him, pushing him gently so that he's sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out. He lets you - lets you arrange him however you like and feels something in him soften when you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. Usually, his arms would find their way around you, holding you to him. This time, though, they stay away, hovering unsurely.

"Dick," you whine. He huffs out an almost laugh. "Hold me… please." He doesn't laugh at that. He wraps his arms around you tightly, one anchored around your waist while the other tangles in your hair. The more he berates himself for how he acted, the tighter his grip gets. Here you are, clearly upset and in distress, and all he did was spiral and fall on his ass and make the whole thing about him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into your hair as he presses kisses to the crown of your head. You squeeze him back reassuringly.

"You have nothing to apologize for, baby - you don't," you respond, bracing yourself with that voice he knows he can't win an argument against. It's the one he's seen you use at work, with lawyers and professional rivals and employees. He's only been on the receiving end of it a few times, usually with you telling him to take care of himself in some way.

No, you can't go out to patrol with broken ribs - the others can cover you for a few nights. No, you're not staying up any later than this - that case will still be there in the morning. No, you're not Atlas, my love - the world will not fall apart if you take a break.

He hasn't heard that voice directed at him many times, but it's enough that he knows to snap his mouth shut and admit defeat.

"Will you tell me what's wrong, at least?" He prompts gently. You slump against him.

"Just… a bad day. That's all."

"I've seen you have bad days, babe," he reminds patiently. "This is more than that. I know it is."

"Well, this is…" you begin, chewing your bottom lip. He reaches to smooth his thumb across your lip, a silent reminder to stop. "You've seen my normal bad days," you explain. "Sometimes I get… bad. You know. Mentally ill bad." Dick hums in understanding and squeezes you tighter to his chest.

"You've been holding out on me."

"What?"

"I told you," he explains, but there's no malice. He's kind and soft and gentle and you're reminded that that's why you fell in love with him. "I told you I'd be here for you, baby. I want to be here for you. Let me in, yea?"

"I didn't want to be too much," you whisper, and Dick feels his heart crack at the sad little warble of your voice.

"Never, honey," he soothes, smoothing a hand up and down your back. "I want all of you, okay? Every bit of you. Even when it's hard - especially when it's hard. I want to help."

"I know," you sigh. "I know, I know, I just… maybe you don't know what you're getting yourself into. Maybe you think you can handle it but you can't and you'll get overwhelmed and leave. Maybe you'll get tired of asking me to let you in and that'll be what makes you leave. Either way I - I just can't find a way to hold onto you."

Dick stills at that, breath catching in his lungs and an unpleasant feeling settling in his gut. How long had you been thinking this? How many of the moments where you held onto him a little tighter, reached for him a little more, told him you loved him a little louder - how many of those moments were born of fear? He straightens himself up and tenderly grabs your chin in his hand, guiding you until you're eye-to-eye with him. This has to be fixed, he thinks. Now. you're his. His love, his person, his everything. And you're, what, sitting here alone in a dark apartment worried about him leaving you? Terrified of him walking away while you need him? No. No, this has to be fixed.

"Honey," he says, an edge in his voice that makes you straighten up. It's the one you've heard him use while he's working, when he's donned his Nightwing gear and is commanding a room full of vigilantes and heroes. It's not a voice he's used many times with you, but you know it well enough to sit still and listen when he uses it. "I'm right here," he says. "Always. I'm here and I'm staying and I will never - never - walk away from you when you need me. I love you and that will never change, okay? I'm here. I promise, baby, I'm here."

#smsn.writes #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fic #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #nightwing imagines #nightwing fluff #nightwing fanfiction #nightwing fic #richard grayson

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

tag list <3

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#carmenmath #aster writes the bear #carmen berzatto writing #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto the bear #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto x y/n #jeremy allen white imagine #jeremy allen white fic #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto the bear fx

[bleach-your-panties]

⚡mind (and body) fuck 🛸- d.kaminari x fem reader x h.shinsou

⇰n/sfw 18+. mdni. MAJOR dark content warning.

⇰written for @bastardblvd's house of slimy horrors halloween collab.

⇰warnings: gullible reader, mentally ill reader, drug use (weed), electrostimulation, hypnosis, alien abduction, NON-CON, body horror, tummy bulge, use of surgical instruments, instrument insertion, egg retrieval, time-traveling (between present day and 1970's), alternate timelines, trippy shit, misogyny, sexism, sleazy men talk, threesome ig, excessive cursing, slimeball!denki being himself and slimeball!fake!landlord hitoshi, who claims he's a licensed hypnotist. this is degenerate, psychological filth; who wrote this?

⇰(i got the title idea from shinsou's hero name. i think it's mindbreak, but i always say mindfuck lol.)

🛸inspired by the movie fire in the sky and betty and barney hill's accounts of their alien abduction in 1961.

🛸banner images from pinterest/pic collage

🛸banner/animated divider made by me with canva/pic collage.

🛸halloween divider by @/firefly-graphics

🛸4.8k words

▶️: e. t (remix). - katy perry ft. kanye west

▶️: phone home - lil wayne

"You sure you don't want another hit, pretty?" Denki turned his head to ask you as he held the lit blunt, which was quickly becoming a roach, between his long fingers.

Hitoshi, who was sitting to your left, made a small sound of amusement.

"I think she's had enough. Just look at her fucking face."

You're Denki's new neighbor, having just moved down the hall into apartment 3E. After finally securing a day off from work, he decided to do the neighborly thing and invite you over. To get to know you better.

He met you as he was preparing to leave for work one morning.

You looked so lost and gullible, easy prey for him, but if he hadn't have left then, Katsuki would have most certainly put his ass on bathroom duty for being late. 

He'd have to put his quest of getting to know you on the back burner until he had more time.

And now, the day has finally come.

He wasn't very impressed when Hitoshi insisted on coming over the same day to 'work on some maintenance issues'.

Hitoshi is a bastard, a smooth bastard, that always seems to be in competition with him when it comes to nagging hot, unsuspecting chicks and taking them home, filling them up with weed, alcohol, and dick, then giving them the boot.

They even have a scoreboard, and Denki is currently just one point behind Hitoshi right now. Just one measly point.

And Denki planned to use little ole, naive you to even the score.

"What even is in that shit? It smells horrible." The violet-haired man waved his hand in front of his face to waft the weed smoke away from his "delicate" nose.

"You know, I've never seen someone who smokes cigarettes be so sensitive about a little weed. Pussy."

"Pussy? Oh, so now we're name-calling then? If I'm such a pussy, then how come I'm ahead of you right now on the board?"

He pointed a long, black-polished fingertip at the board situated across the room in plain sight. 

The girls that Denki brought back here either had to be dumb, lonely, desperate, or a sad mixture of all three. Not to mention the ones with daddy issues.

“Because you use fake status and promises of discounted rent to get pussy, while I, on the other hand, use my charm and good looks. Not to mention I actually know how to fuck.” Denki smirked and crossed his long arms over his chest.

Hitoshi just snorted and Denki knew that he had won that argument.

A soft moan and a feminine hand on his jean-clad thigh made Denki jump in surprise.

"Shit, I almost forgot you were here, baby girl. Scared the fuck out of me." Denki cooed at you and then snickered.

A steaming hot box of pizza was open on the small coffee table in front of you, along with opened cans of beer and soda.

"You still didn't answer my question, pisshead. What is in that weed and why does it stink so fucking badly?" 

Denki leaned forward to grab a slice of pizza out of the box: Hawaiian-style pizza.

"It's called Pineapple Express." 

 "Oh you just fucking made that up."

"I swear I didn't, but okay." Denki reached across your lap to ash the roach. Your small hand shakily reached out, grabbed his wrist, and rubbed it all the way down to the crease of his elbow, meeting the flannel of his rolled-up shirt.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you tired?” Denki asked you in a thick, honey-laden voice.

What he doesn't know, though, is that he's given you a dangerous mixture. 

A toxin that would soon have you spouting fairytales and complete nonsense.

You looked up at the zig-zag blonde confused, as if you were really seeing him for the first time. 

"Wait, where am I? W-what…what year is it?"

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and shot Denki a concerned look. 

"You're in my apartment, babe, and the year is 2023." Denki answered without missing a beat.

You were clutching his arm now in a panicked state.

"N-no, that can't be right. The last thing that I remember was walking home and then there was this bright, green light and…"

Both males leaned into you mechanically, them wanting to give you their full attention as well as them being eager to hear what you have to say.

"It was like a fire in the sky; at first it was merely a spark against the soot of the night, when all of a sudden, it was surrounding me, a blazing hot inferno, as if I had stepped onto the Sun's surface." You explained with a shakiness to your voice.

"If you even attempted to touch the Sun, you'd vaporize before you could even reach the surface." Shinsou retorted smartly.

Denki seemed perturbed by the story that you're currently spouting, but he also couldn't deny that it had sparked his interest. 

"Leave it to Denki to bring home a crazy bitch and try to fuck…" Shinsou mumbled and reached into his jeans pocket for a Marlboro Menthol Black cigarette.

Said blonde swatted at Shinsou, a silent message for the lavender-haired man to shut the fuck up lest he scare away the barista's latest conquest.

"Hmm, what are you babbling about, sugar tits? There's no such thing as aliens and time travelers." He chuckled gleefully and cradled you closer to him.

How cute and funny you are.

His dick began to stir in his jeans from having you lie against him like this. Your tits spilled over the neckline of your top and brushed his chest.

Shinsou rolled his periwinkle eyes as he continued to smoke his cigarette and watch the wispy smoke curl up into the air. The minty, smoky odor mixed with the fruity one of Denki’s weed.

Those eyes then moved to the floor where your open purse was sitting by his feet. Inside, he could see a couple of pill bottles peeking out.

While you were busy whining to Denki about how you’d supposedly been abducted by aliens in your past life, Shinsou leaned down and scooped the three bottles up to read their white labels.

‘Haloperidol, chlorpromazine, and trifluoperazine. Antipsychotics?’

He rolled the bottles over in his hand then shot another look over to Denki, who seemed to have forgotten that Shinsou was even there.

The blonde's nimble fingers splayed across your back while his other hand rubbed up and down your shoulder.

Your breathing quickened and Denki took that as your arousal coming out, but your chest was constricting; you felt like you might be having a panic attack.

Shinsou stood up off the couch and moved Denki's hand off of your shoulder. Honey snapped up to meet periwinkle.

"What the fuck, dude?" 

The pill bottles shook in his face, making Denki squint as he tried to read the small black writing.

"What is this?"

"Antipsychotic medication! This chick is seriously screwed up! You shouldn't have given her that weed; it's likely the only reason she's falling all over you right now!"

Denki scoffed and rolled his eyes. In his mind, Shinsou is just envious that Denki got to you first, and the lavender-haired man was afraid for Denki to take the lead over him.

"Now when it's my chance to finally get ahead, you want to be a man of morals? Spare me the bullshit, please."

"Forget about the fucking board for a minute! You-"

Denki swiped the bottles out of Shinsou's hand and brought them in front of your face. His free hand moved from your back to your belly and down into the waistband of your skirt.

"Did you remember to take your medicine today, huh, pretty?" He asked with a teasing lilt in his voice. This revelation doesn't change anything for him; he's still hard and still wants to fuck you.

Your eyes refocus on him, only slightly, and you give a faraway nod.

"I did…I think.." 

He leaned forward to set the pill bottles on the coffee table. "Good girl…" He purred like a fat cat with a bowl full of fresh tuna.

Denki grabbed your exposed thigh and used it to pull your leg across his waist. Shinsou didn't miss how your cunt gripped the chartreuse lace of your panties as Denki exposed you to his sunken eyes. He bit his lip.

"You're really going to fuck her while she's like this?" His voice was thick with apprehension. 

Denki didn't falter; he even smirked.

"Sure am...not like I haven't done it before. You got a problem, you can leave. There's the door." He nodded his head behind him to the metal door that leads into the hallway.

Shinsou's jaw clenched; his pride wouldn't let him be outdone by a dumbass like Denki. Not by a long shot. 

Shinsou had to think of a plan and think of one fast before Denki would have your spaced-out ass bouncing on his dick in this very living room. 

"Hey…I've got an idea. If she claims she was abducted by aliens, I'll hypnotize her. That way, we'll know if she's really telling the truth or if she's just a nut."

Denki laughed at the double entendre. "She is just a nut, but I'm interested now. Do you really know how to hypnotize someone?" He asked, looking at Shinsou while standing up from the couch.

"Of course, I'm a licensed hypnotist." Shinsou lied, trying to save face. 

Denki positioned you in a supine position and crossed your arms over your chest.

"I'm going to hypnotize her, not put her in a fucking tomb." Shinsou rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. Just do it, before I get bored. Also, if you think you're going to trick me into giving her up, you've got another thing coming." Denki snapped.

His tone grew darker, possessive. He settled his long limbs onto the coffee table and pushed the cans and pizza boxes off to the side.

"Shut the fuck up." Shinsou mumbled. He walked over to the arm of the couch where your head is situated and stood over you.

Smoke-scented fingers caressed your cheek and jaw. You looked up into Shinsou's eyes and they turned dark like cold, jagged amethysts.

"I need you to relax for me, kitten. Breathe slow and easy, don't force them out. Just let them come slow and easy, just like that. Good girl." 

His hand moved to stroke your hair and your squinted eyes shut completely.

"Keep breathing and slowly begin to count backwards from fifty. Come on, do it for me, baby. I know you can." 

Denki's golden eyes watched with intent and arousal; watching you submit to Shinsou's whim so easily was making him even harder than he was previously.

"50…49…48…47…46…"

Your arms slumped by your sides as you drifted off. 

—--

1976

—--

The crickets' songs were melodious in your ears as you walked through your darkened college campus to get back to your dormitory.

The women's dorms were situated far from the main campus and the only way to get there was through a thick, wooded area.

"Silly me for not watching the time and ending up kicked out on my ass at 8pm at night. So not groovy." You chuckled.

Your platform sandals thumped against the ground, the material of your flared pants swishing over them with every calculated step that you took.

It was a bit of a chilly night, not unusual for your hometown, but tonight oddly seemed much colder.

The breeze ruffled your clothes and you looked up into the obsidian night sky. The moon was high and the stars swirled behind the dark gray clouds like a vortex, waiting to swallow up the wispy bits of condensation. 

"How beautiful…"

Suddenly, one of those stars began growing larger and larger. It seemed to be moving towards the Earth; a comet maybe?

No.

It's much bigger and much wider than a comet would be and it's…spinning.

Hot.

The heat was all around you at once and you were trapped. A mechanical whirring sound reverberated in your ears and drummed against your brain. 

Bright, green light emanated from the flying disk as it landed amongst the trees, crushing many of them under its massive weight. 

The sound of multiple tree trunks cracking and bending under it sounded like multiple whips cracking against flesh and the sound made you wince. You dropped your books and covered your ears. 

"What…this can't be happening right now…"

You whispered softly and clenched your eyes shut. The biting cold was now no match for the heat that had engulfed your entire being. 

You fainted.

—--

We are not the same. I am a Martian..

We are not the same. I am a Martian..

(Greetings from Planet Weezy,

We will begin transmission in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

And if you feel like you're the best go 'head and do the Weezy-wee and

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

—-

You awoke sometime later in a cold room with steel walls.

"What happened to me..I..what the hell?"

You tried to move your arms, but they were strapped down on either side of your head with thick leather straps.

"What the fuck?! Let me go! Let me out of here! Anybody! Somebody - help me!"

All of your racket must have alerted whoever else was on the ship with you, because the metal door opened, lifting up from the floor slowly.

Purple smoke filtered under the door and two white-robed figures walked in.

You looked at them and they looked back at you. Then they looked at each other and began speaking in a language that your puny human brain couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The two of them looked like regular humans, but you knew that they were anything but.

The shorter one of the two, a blonde with a black zig-zag stripe through one side of his hair, focused on you. 

He was wearing blue visor-like eyewear that shielded his honey-colored eyes from your vision. The man began to approach your bedside and only upon closer inspection did you realize that he was carrying a metal try with various surgical tools on it.

While the blonde situated himself on a stool beside your bed, the other, a much taller man with wild purple hair, matching eyes, and a black mouthpiece concealing the lower portion of his face sat down at the foot of your bed…table…examination table.

He said something else to the blonde, who nodded without looking up from the laptop that he was now typing on.

He moved a slim finger to press something on the screen - you couldn't read the text, it must be in whatever language they were speaking - and you noticed that his skin was a sickly-looking pale green color and his fingers ended in very sharp black talons.

Definitely not human.

—-

We are not the same, I am a Martian

And I'm hotter than summer rain like Carl Thomas

Lock, load, ready to aim at any target 

I could get your brains for a bargain like I bought it from Target 

—-

The purple-haired one seemed content with just watching you, but he began twisting the knobs on the sides of his mouthpiece.

Greetings, human.

The sound rang inside your head like a bell. It didn't seem to have come from his mouth, but since you couldn't see his lips, you really didn't know. 

"I-I…what do you plan to do with me? Please, just let me go home…!"

You pleaded to him, but your cries didn't seem to really affect him. He just continued staring at you, as if you were an insect under a microscope..

An insect that he could easily overpower and crush if you even tried to defy him or his partner. 

We plan to cause you no harm, if and only if you obey us and let us perform some examinations on you…

"W-What kind of examinations?"

The blonde, now finished with his computer work, rose from the stool and grabbed the metal tray.

He joined the purple one at the foot of your bed, having pulled the stool with him to sit back down on.

The purple one said no more, but the blonde reached for your feet and placed them into stirrups at the bottom of the bed.

This setup is one that you're quite familiar with…is he planning to… give you a feminine wellness exam?

Your thoughts on that were quickly diverted once you saw the tools that the blonde had actually picked up.

He wore thick blue gloves made of, what you assumed might be latex, but it had to be stronger or his claws would've ripped right through them.

"No…no no no no…please!" You pleaded, thrashing against the table widely.

In one hand he held what looked like a transvaginal ultrasound probe but on a much larger scale then what you'd find in any doctor's office on Earth.

The blonde spoke again to his companion, his tone coming across as annoyed. 

The purple-haired man slowly rose from his seat and walked over to you.

He placed his large hand atop your sweaty hair and began to gently stroke it in an effort to calm you down.

Hush now, if you don't lie still I'm going to have to sedate you.

Why couldn't you have just done that in the first damn place!?

You wanted to argue back, but thought it less than wise to do so.

The blonde continued on since you seemed to be distracted now. Deciding to not look at whatever he was about to do to you, you focused your attention on the purple-haired man.

He looked into your eyes and his own wrinkled at the corners, like he might be smiling at you. His sharp nails lightly skimmed over your scalp creating a tingling sensation.

Very good, pet. You're doing so well…

He reached behind his head and began to undo the contraption over his mouth.

The last thing that you saw was a wide mouth full of rows of razor-sharp teeth and a long, purple reptilian tongue.

—

We are not the same, I am an alien

Like Gonzales, young college 

Student, who done just flipped the game like Houston

I'm use to Promethazine and two cups, I'm screwed up

And you ain't shit if you ain't never been screwed up

Flow so sick, make you wanna throw your food up

—-

The blonde man pushed the large instrument inside of you and watched from a screen situated above your bed to make sure that he was maneuvering it correctly. 

The large instrument stretched the skin of your stomach so lewdly and the purple-haired man watched it maneuver inside of you, intrigued.

Then, with a very long and very thin needle, the blonde penetrated your belly in order to get to your ovaries and retrieve some eggs.

When he finished, he removed his gloves and washed his hands in a wide, oval-shaped sink made of what looked like pure white marble.  

Your face was covered in sweat and you were breathing heavily, but both men were cooing over you now, stroking your arms and legs while speaking in their strange language.

You didn't exactly remember it, but you somehow ended up back in the forest where you started.

Five days later.

Your roommate, teachers, colleagues, and parents were all worried sick about you, and finally, you were found on the fifth day, curled up in a ball in the middle of the forest.

They were scared that you might have been drugged and assaulted or worse, had a delusional episode and had wandered off by yourself and gotten lost in the forest.

You had no clothes on when they found you; the only thing covering you was a thin blanket made of a shimmery-metallic colored fabric.

The story became a big sensation in your town, but many were skeptical of you because of your schizophrenia.

You went on to finish college and live a pretty successful life, but that one night all those years ago still haunted you..

—-

I never had life and I never had fear

I rap like I done died and gone to heaven I swear

And yeah I'mma bear, like black and white hair, so I'm polar

And they can't get on my system cause my system is the Solar

I am so far from the othars, I meant others

I just eat them for supper, get in my spaceship and hover, hover

—-

Present Day, 2023

—-

"Damn, it really worked…" Denki said in awe as his eyes raked over your still body. "Isn't she supposed to like, talk, though? She hasn't said a word."

Currently, you haven't really said anything or moved much. Shinsou really had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he knew that he hadn't killed you, so all wasn't lost.

"She's so cute, I could give a damn about her stupid alien story." Denki got up from the coffee table and began unbuckling his jeans. 

"Whoa, you're really going to fuck an unconscious girl?" Shinsou asked, a bit taken aback.

The blonde scoffed, "Please, cut the nice guy act, will you? It really doesn't suit you. Besides, I saw her first, so I'm going to fuck her." He shrugged, uncaring. 

"Wait, stop. She just moved. She can probably hear us." Shinsou looked at your face, and sure enough your lips were moving and you were mumbling something.

"Please stop…hurts…let me go…help...someone…" Tumbled out of your Chapstick-coated lips.

"She's probably talking to the aliens, so she's not unconscious." Denki snickered. He elbowed Shinsou out of the way and straddled your legs over the couch. A zipper came down and he was now palming his hard cock in one hand while the other reached to pull your top down.

His hand then slapped your face and you jolted, but didn't open your eyes.

"With that weed, her psycho meds, and whatever the hell you just did, we just made her into the perfect little fuck doll for us to enjoy."

"Us? This is crazy…I can't…" Shinsou cut himself off as he looked at the board again.

If he didn't do this, he would be behind Denki.

He would lose to Denki.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Either we fuck her together or no one does and the board remains as is. So what'll it be, Hitoshi?"

—-

I got a dirty mind

I got filthy ways

I'm tryna bathe my ape (ape) in your Milky Way (Way)

I'm a legend, I'm irreverent, I be reverend

I'll be so far u-u-u-p

We don't give a f-u-u-uck

Welcome to the danger zone, step into the fantasy 

You are not invited to the other side of sanity

They calling me an alien, a big-headed astronaut

Maybe it's because ya boy Yeezy get ass a lot

—-

Shinsou situated himself back at the edge of the couch where your head was.

He pulled his own zipper down and let his dick flop right on out and rest against your soft cheek.

"So soft and warm…" His fingers curled into your hair as he began stroking himself. 

"Bet her mouth is much softer and much warmer." Denki sighed. He was jacking himself off with your pretty lace panties wrapped around his condom-covered cock.

—-

You're so, hypnotizing

Could you be the devil? 

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing 

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing 

They say "Be afraid"

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you 

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension 

You open my eyes 

And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light  

—-

"Probably right…let's find out." Shinsou huffed breathlessly.

He leaned over you, parted your lips with two fingers, and spat into your mouth.

His cold, thin lips covered yours as he kissed you fully on the mouth, slipping his tongue inside.

—-

Kiss me, k-k-kiss me

Infect me with your lovin', fill me with your poison 

Take me, t-t-take me

Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alien 

Your touch, so foreign 

It's supernatural 

Extraterrestrial

—-

After releasing his warm cum all over your pussy, Denki reached for a small box underneath the couch.

Inside were two electric nipple clamps.

"These will really give her the shock of her life." He grinned and attached them to your erect nipples. 

"Wanna do the honors?" He tossed the small, black remote to Shinsou, who was rubbing his swollen cock over your wet lips.

Shinsou pressed a button on the remote and your body jerked from the electric shock, making Denki giggle.

—-

You're so supersonic

Wanna feel your power

Stun me with your laser

Your kiss, is cosmic

Every move is magic

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension 

You open my eyes 

And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light 

—-

"Fuck..!"

"S-shit.."

Both men moved in a rhythm; Denki thrusting into your cunt while Shinsou did the same action with your mouth.

"I'm going to…blow my fucking load..ahh shit, she's so tight for such a dumb slut." Denki groaned, his hips jerking faster and faster, making the couch scrape back and forth against the floor. 

"I'm close, too…fuck…so good…such a good kitten, take all of my cum, now. Drink it all up like a good bitch." 

Shinsou's head flopped forward and he grasped one of your tits while he orgasmed hard.

His cum flooded your mouth and spilled over the sides. The lavender-haired man tutted and used his thumb to push it back inside your mouth.

"Fuck!" Denki shouted and sunk his knees into the couch as he came hard into the condom. He had to catch his breath before he climbed off of you. Your panties were stuffed in his back pocket as he went to trash the condom and clean himself up.

Shinsou sank down onto the coffee table and pulled out another cigarette while he watched you.

It was now evening and the windows had darkened along with the changing sky.

Multiple stars littered the sky outside and the moon shone through the window where Denki had left the curtains open a smidgen.

When Denki came back, you were coming to with a shocked and confused look on your face. 

"It's you, again…it's you! You came back!" You cried. 

Without any care for how you might've looked, you sat upright urgently and wrapped your arms around yourself.

The blonde and purple-haired men just stared at you with bored expressions on their faces. 

They had gotten what they wanted and now had no use for you or any regard for your well-being whatsoever. 

That blonde and lavender hair, those sharp, cunning eyes…they were the same as those from all those years ago…how could you have not noticed it before?

"Stay away from me, you monsters!" 

You threw a pillow from the couch at Denki and he caught it. A smirk covered his lips as he watched you run out of the door with your skirt pushed up your hips, no shoes, no purse, and your hand haphazardly holding your breasts inside your top.

"Do you think she'll tell anyone?" Shinsou asked, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke.

Denki reached for another pre-rolled blunt that had been pushed off the side of the table during your activities. 

"Even if she did, who would believe a crazy bitch like her?"

—-

You ran completely out of the building, into the night.

You didn't know exactly where you were running to, but you knew that you had to get away from there.

Ahh, there you are. We've finally found you, again.

Your head whipped around behind you, where you could see two, tall, robed figures standing there. The moonlight reflected off of that tell-tale visor, while long, skinny fingers clicked and turned the wheels on the sides of a black mouthpiece. 

Our little test subject…

You screamed. 

—-

I know a bar out in Mars

Where they driving spaceships instead of cars

Cop a Prada space suit up out the stars

Getting stupid high straight up out the jars

Pockets on Shrek, rockets on deck

Tell me what's next? Alien sex?

I'ma disrobe you, then I'ma probe you

See, I abducted you, so I tell you what to do

(I tell you what to do, what to do, what to do)

Kiss me, k-k-kiss me

Infect me with your lovin', fill me with your poison 

Take me, t-t-take me

Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alien 

Your touch, so foreign 

It's supernatural 

Extraterrestrial

----

*ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

#denki x reader #denki kaminari #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader smut #denki kaminari x reader smut #house of slimy horrors halloween collab #house of slimy horrors collab #bastardblvd #mhascenarios #mha x reader #mha dark content #mha x reader dark content #mha denki x reader #bnha denki x reader #denki kaminari x female reader smut #denki kaminari x female reader #mha shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi x female reader smut #shinsou hitoshi x female reader #tw: noncon #tw: dark content #tw: drugs #tw: body horror #tw: mental illness #byp🌹 #💗💗🍡°my fics #💗💗🍡°mha masterlist #byp 🌹masterlists #💗💗🍡°masterlists

[seoafin]

weirdly off topic (but on??? not sure)

what were your intentions/goals when making rip!mc?

and what are the differences between satosugu and rip!mc x gojo? (as ships ig)

like for me, when i think about satosugu, i always get an outer worldly, heavenly feel to it, if that makes sense? like both satoru and suguru were quite separated from everyone else (more satoru but u get it). they were soulmates, the were always linked to each other, from the beginning they complimented and contrasted each other perfectly (satoru's birth strengthening curses all over the world, suguru having to digest these curses). even their names 😭

with rip!mc x gojo, they feel so... earthly ? or more homey (i don't even know if im being coherent right now). gojo requires work to be with her, he's kind of "forced" to be a better person because of her. she also has to realize that she can be loved and she can love too!

like suguru highlights how godly satoru is (being the strongest together with him) and rip!mc highlights how human he is. she views him as he is, the same guy she met in high school. just satoru.

(this is kinda like choosing to either date the handsome god that would do absolutely anything for you or that really sweet guy next door that you have incredible chemistry with 💀)

not sure if i got this all right but im so interested in what you would have to say!

honestly i just didn't want gojo to have an easy love life. i also dialed up the pining by 1000x bc i love when strong men have pathetic love lives

i'd say you're spot on and named all the main differences yourself!! rip!mc and gojo definitely have much more of a power imbalance and uneven relationship dynamics which really shine through with gojo's whole 'i'll take care of you' spiel which i've written a whole post on somewhere. i think being with geto is so effortless because on a level they understand each other while gojo being with anyone else is going to face a bit more difficulties. it's absolutely not a new fandom interpretation by any means that gojo would be a difficult partner, i just think combined with rip!mc's denseness and own mental issues things become a bit more convoluted and harder especially when gojo has to articulate his desires in a way that he's never really had to before. he's always just pretty much gotten anything he's wanted in life and geto just always got it (tm)

when gojo's with geto i think they're both kinda stuck in this sphere of invincibility, while with rip!mc gojo's back on earth, right next to her and reminded of all his vulnerabilities. and like you've said rip!mc has never seen gojo as a god. god-like at times maybe. but to her he'll always be that guy that kept the gravure magazines she bought for him on his birthday just because she gave it to him. and the guy that jumped off one of the school buildings just to show geto he could really do it!!! and the guy that always lets her sleep on his shoulder. like. gojo was once a stupid teenager and once you see that and know it i guess it just gets really hard to reconcile that image with this all powerful god even though you know it in the back of your head. like that's just your lame friend who got drunk off a cocktail and soda and fell asleep in the wrong bed.

i personally don't like human god dynamics unless they're level, equal in some way. and it doesn't need to be strength. i can't fathom calling my significant other with honorifics or bowing to them or prostrating myself in some way. like im calling them by their first name period. im not bowing either and they shouldn't expect it!!!! it's just a personal preference though. i'm all about that give take in a relationship.

i feel like i've answered this question in more depth somewhere in my ripverse relationship meta tag so you can peruse that if you want!

#anyway. like i've said. he better WORK! #.rr

[eggie-o]

HIHIHIHI!

(some of this info might be out of date or not yet in date)

i’m blue or alex, either works so does egg/eggie/eggieo

i’m trans! the best way i’ve found do define my gender is dyke/butch lesbian! my sexuality is complicated and really not important to me to define beyond lesbian but i can assure you i will date whatever strikes my fancy! i am poly and ace!

i use he/him pronouns rn! idk if that will stay! nothing is forever everything is slowly changing!

i mostly rb things, i think i tag people in stuff a lot sorry not sorry ask me to stop if you hate it (tagging you not tagging other people if you don’t like me tagging other people fuk off u prep)

i’m a minor! i’m disabled! both physically and mentally! i post a lot about The Symptoms!

I have a horrible memory! i probably repeat myself a lot! i reallt don’t care, no need to tell me!

i cannot see shit! anything like that sparkly text i can’t read, i have a really hard time reading screenshots from the “gothic rave” or whatever the purple on black theme is! also get reallt bad migraines, flashing lights are not my freind!

most of my original posts are vent posts or musings or stories or whatever floats across my mind-space! unless tagged otherwise, feel free to rb anything!

i make a lot of typos! i reallt don’t care! if you need clarification on something just ask!

i’ve recently decided i reallt like explanation points!

orginizational tags:

he speaks- original posts

pls don’t rb- don’t reblog please <3 if you have something to say feel free to add it in the replys tho!

sailing shit- stuff related to sailing!

techie times- stuff related to thearter tech/runcrew/stagehandness

vent- vent posts, feel free to blacklist or whatever i’m just screaming into the void!

The Curses- Symptoms posting.

many thoughts- just thikin. idk. i’ll figure it out!

there’s s a few other ones just for me too.

i try to tag for unreality, i might miss some things tho! i do tag anything that i would find upsetting when The Curse takes full affect so. that’s that ig.

i don’t tag for image descriptions! i need to ive been meaning too but i’m very low on spoons i am trying o get into the habit of it!

if your upset by words like queer, faggot, tranny, dyke, i’d recommend not following! they are some of my favorite things!

i ramble a lot, i’m sure you’ve noticed, but thank you for checking out my blog!

#pinned post archive

[selenealwayscries]

Daily Doodle Day 5 yay

I aim to have as little thoughts as Tommyinnit holds behind his goldfish eyes

Also bonus bigboobiehalo that Twitter won't get to see:

#mcyt #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #badboyhalo #skeppy #skephalo #(implied at least) #also uh #bigboobiehalo #never thought I'd be tagging both tommyinnit and bigboobiehalo in the same post but here we go #but realistically skeppy wouldn't be glaring at those honkers he'd be diving head first for them #cursed mental image ig

[chatonnoir]

I love Ladrien just being a Flex on mothman at every turn like it doesn't even need to be kept secret from Gabriel - what is he going to say, "this relationship is bad for our brand" ???? your son dating The Hero of Paris is bad for your brand??? yeah ok grandpa maybe think abt that one a bit more

"being involved with Ladybug puts Adrien in danger" well Not being involved clearly didnt prevent multiple Akumas from nearly killing him anyway so maybe having Ladybug nearby is in fact the safest he could possibly be and yknow if you care so much why not put some of that wealth into helping the efforts against Hawkmoth yourself hmm????? Oh you're fine leaving it to Ladybug????? then ig Hawkmoth isnt as big a threat as you say

then theres the paranoia that Ladybug might Know he's hawkmoth and/or may call his bluff if he tries to threaten adrien for her miraculous, after all what are the odds that Ladybug would go after his son of all people (even if he Is the image of perfection), and how will he ever convince his son to join his side now that ladybug has Clearly turned his son against him using his own cursed teenage hormones, Gabriel thinks he's locked in a Kira vs L mental 4D Chess battle with Ladybug and no longer sleeps soundly

#Ladrien actively making Gabriel's life worse is the new jam

[silver-weasel]

Lonely Together (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing : Bakugou x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut, introvert!reader, p*rn with a bit of plot, p*rn with feelings (ig?), both Baku and reader being bratty little fucks, him talking like a sailor because it’s OOC if he’s not

Word count : 7734 [AO3]

Summary : Mina is having a birthday party tonight. You're a bit reluctant but you're going anyway, you promised after all. You do have one good reason to be there though. Maybe even more than you think.

A/N : Thank you again @hoe-doroki​ for beta reading <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+ ONLY

“So, you’re all still coming tonight, right?” Mina asked.

Your mind went blank when you saw everyone nodding, and you only gave big round eyes and an ‘o’-shaped mouth as an unspoken answer to Mina's question. Then, she addressed you directly:

“You didn’t forget, did you?” Mina’s eyebrows raised up to her hairline, though the look in her eyes told you she expected this. Well, she should by now.

“I actually never heard about this,” you retorted with a deadpan look.

“You said you were coming yesterday!” Her irritated voice hit a few notes higher like it always does when she’s upset.

“Did I? Huh…” You silently cursed your auto-pilot mode (the one that activates as soon as your mind drifts away from the crowd), so sharp it even answers the questions you’re asked without your say-so now. “I’ll be there, Mina, don’t worry,” you added with a smile you hope looks reassuring enough.

“You better! At least, he’ll be there.”

“There you go again,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

“Took me forever to get him to say yes,” she continued, shamelessly ignoring your consternation. “That guy’s such a pain in the ass.”

You’ve been sitting there on the edge of your bed for a while now, still wrapped in a fluffy towel with your hair dripping on your bare shoulders. The image of your overflowing dresser starts to blur, your vision handing the reins to your anxious mind.

What the fuck am I gonna wear? I didn’t even get my bare minimum of three days of mental preparation for this.

Ever since your UA years, Mina always tried so hard to make sure you and Bakugou, Class A’s official certified introverts, got your asses dragged into every stupid party the class was throwing. She never managed to do anything about the both of you always being the first two to leave, though.

It’s been a while since you’ve last seen Bakugou, or any other boy from the class for that matter. Being dispatched to a lot of different agencies, and having impossible schedules, you all get very few occasions to meet outside of work. Tonight, Mina’s birthday, is one of these occasions.

You find yourself impatient to see him. Sure, your interactions have always remained basic: a quick glance exchanged while crossing paths in the hallways of UA, or the usual polite greetings (from your part at least, more of a short grunt from his) the few times you’ve seen him at work. But every single one of these interactions left a significant mark on you.

After a while of staring into space, cursing every single piece of clothing you own, you finally settle for a simple black dress with thin straps that hugs your body just right and falls right above your ankles. It’s comfortable, flattering enough and doesn’t require a bra underneath. It’ll have to do for tonight. You also grab some of your favorite panties: some classic shaped, cotton, white and soft blue striped ones with a little blue bow. Nothing fancy, but very cute, and oh well, fuck—sexy. You’re sick of spending these parties walking funny because you’ve got a stupid piece of lace rubbing on places it shouldn’t be rubbing.

You text Momo when you’re finally ready. She and Kyouka come to pick you up in front of your house fifteen minutes later. It’s about a thirty minute drive, and everyone’s already there when you arrive. The entirety of class A is here—that’s rare—along with a few other people from UA.

Mina rented a beach house for her birthday because she’s that extra. A good part of her salary went to this and now she can’t eat anything but ramen for the next two months. You should know because you’re the one person she rants on and on about it to.

The sun’s only beginning to set and you take a second to take the view in. Almost everyone is outside on the patio, either sitting at a table or leaning against the railing. In front of the house there isn’t any path, any trees—nothing but sand and blue water as far as the eye can see, shining under the last rays of sunlight.

Soon enough, Momo and Jirou peel away from you and you’re standing alone, quite awkwardly, in the middle of the patio. You spot Ochako waving to you as if throwing you a lifeline—it sure feels like it. She’s sitting at a table outside with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki. You greet everyone and sit next to the latter, trying to catch up with the conversation. Ochako is relating her patrol adventures from today, a story you already heard back at training. Everyone is listening with attention, especially Midoriya, his bright eyes widening in fascination. He’s being his usual straight-up fanboy, looking at her like she’s found the cure to cancer. From here, it’s hard to believe he’s the only hero from your generation to have already reached the top 10.

Well, one of the only two. It was only a matter of time until you found yourself looking for the other. You don’t search for long; you soon find him perched on the patio railing, about as focused on the conversation around him as you are. Conversation isn’t exactly the right word for what’s going on, though—namely Kaminari, already half-wasted, flaunting his shenanigans in front of equally drunk Kirishima and Sero laughing ear-splittingly. Bakugou is looking at the sea, his beer from before still in his hand since he barely drank half of it.

He’s wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up his forearms, and his hair its usual explosive mess. The half-drunk beer in his hand seems to have been there for a while now. Just as handsome as ever—even more, actually. His features are relaxed, his gaze deeply focused, half on the sun setting on the sea before him, half on whatever is going on through his mind. He looks so calm, far from the Tasmanian devil you used to know back at UA. Well, he still has his feral moments, but he’s grown a lot. The sad thing is, you’re not sure the others have been as observant as you are.

It’s been a while since you last saw him. Seeing his face, more than anyone here, causes a lot of things to surge back from the depths of your memories: the peculiar color of the leaves on this one tree just outside your classroom, that you were stubbornly fixated on  in order not to stare at him in the middle of class and get Aizawa to make some embarrassing remark about it. The consistent hubbub in the cafeteria hiding your flustered attempts at bringing an end to Mina’s teasing giggles and wiggling eyebrows. The smell of sweat in the hallway of UA’s gym after training, watching him enter the boys locker rooms, not even waiting to be fully inside to take his shirt off.

It’s only when he turns his gaze towards you that you realize you were very much staring at him in a very creepy way. His crimson eyes lock with yours for only a paralyzing second before you break the contact, feeling like you could die from just the heat creeping up your cheeks and your entire face.

God...what am I, fifteen again?

You’re saved by the bell in the form of Mina proudly (and quite vociferously) declaring her legendary cocktail ready for consumption.

It’s not far from 2AM when your social abilities reach their limit. Everyone relocated in the living-room at some point. You’re having fun, the music’s nice, your friends are—well, true to themselves: Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and Tooru are dancing their lives out in the middle of the spacious living room. Kyouka, Momo, Iida and Todoroki are chatting at a table while Ochako is using her quirk on Midoriya so she can drag him on the dancefloor, despite his polite protestations and his face reaching a disturbing shade of red.

But you find yourself craving quiet, some precious calm and peace, and your legs head outside with a mind of their own. The air is cool, feels relieving against your skin, still hot from the oppressive atmosphere inside. You wander around the now completely empty patio. The thumps of your shoes against the hardwood floor can be heard over the distant hubbub inside, the strong beat of music and your friends’ drunken laughter. You reach the creaking stairs leading down to the beach and you just stand there for a moment, alone with this gigantic drink Ochako forced into your hands ten minutes ago, that you still haven’t dared to taste. 

Your eyes take a few seconds adjusting to the obscurity of the beach, contrasting with the bright lights on the patio behind you. You can barely hear the comforting white noise of waves over the music, but you can still appreciate the dark, beautiful view of the moonlight reflecting on the sea. Taking a deep breath, your gaze drifts on the vast expanse of the beach and soon spots a figure sitting in the sand on the right. You don’t even need to see his face; you know he got tired of the party long before you did.

You take off your shoes and pad down the stairs. The sand is cool now, far from the scorching heat of the day, and you enjoy the feel of your toes sinking into its chilly embrace. When you reach him, he hasn’t noticed your presence yet. You just stand there for a second, unsure of what exactly you intended when you walked down those stairs and directly towards him. Maybe he wants to be alone. Maybe there’s a reason why he’s sitting there all by himself, away from the crowd. But your inhibitions don’t get the chance to stop you before you speak:

“Enjoying some fresh air?”

Maybe it’s just about escaping from the heat inside. Maybe it’s about escaping more than that. You’re not even sure yourself, but you trust him to understand anyway. He turns around and looks up at you, his piercing eyes unusually round: you can tell he’s surprised to see you, specifically. He was probably expecting pretty much anyone else to come bother him: Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari, even Midoriya. He’s still looking up at you but doesn’t say anything, so you ask with a bit of hesitancy in your tone:

“Can I join?”

“Sure. Whatever,” he says in his usual flat tone before turning back around.

You crouch and sit cross-legged next to him, setting your shoes down next to you. Neither of you talk for a while. The party sounds distant behind you now, only a slight disruption in the silence and over the soothing sound of the light waves eating up the sand. You’re sipping your cocktail mindlessly, basking in the dark expanse of the sea, calm and unmoving. You’re a bit startled when, unexpectedly, he breaks the silence first:

“How’s the cocktail?”

“Tastes like shit,” you answer with a quiet laugh. He gives out a low chuckle before taking a sip of his beer.

“Raccoon Eyes has very few talents and mixology is not one of them.”

“I don’t even know if we can call it that. She just grabbed the first few things she could lay her hand on, mixed it, drowned it all in alcohol and called it a cocktail.”

He chuckles again, and there’s another silence. You add as an afterthought:

“Our ungrateful asses are still lucky there’s someone like her to keep the class together despite our adult lives, so we don’t lose—” you make a random gesture behind you, pointing at the loud mass that is your group of friends, “—this.”

“This is some fucking noisy mess, though.”

You grin, looking down at your toes wiggling and burying into the sand. “Hm. Knew you’d say something like that.”

“So you’re saying I’m predictable?” He’s looking at you for the first time since he spoke first, his right eyebrow raised up in challenge.

“I don’t know. A little bit?” You’re feeling reckless and prepare to get your head blown off. But he’s not so predictable, this time, because he just lets out a brief snicker and turns his eyes back to the sea.

“Tch. Little shit.”

Another silence.

“I really love them. But sometimes, I really enjoy the calm too.” You shoot a glance at the others through the open doors and catch Momo talking with Todoroki. “Momo seems to be having fun, I don’t want to bother her.”

“What, you came with Ponytail?”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna be a pain,” you say, resigned. “I can wait a few hours.”

“Oh, so you little weakling can’t walk home by yourself?” he scoffs.

“12 miles. That’s a pretty long walk,” you answer in a flat tone.

“Are you a hero or not?”

“What does that have to do with anythi—”

“Jesus, if it’s a ride home you want, all your dumb ass has to do is ask,” he says, rising up and rubbing the sand off his pants. You’re still seated, looking up at him dumbstruck.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

”What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“A huge one?” you answer fearlessly while rising. You’re now standing, but he’s still towering over you, shooting you a chilling look. You catch a sparkle of bright red when the patio lights hit the side of his eye.

“Careful, sweetheart, I can still let you walk home by yourself.” His deep voice echoes through your entire being and you feel heat coat your cheeks at the unusual nickname. You glance over at the house with a quiet gulp.

“You think we can sneak out of this before they see us?”

“It’s doable. We can go through these bushes over there,” he points at a brambly path skirting the house, “and set our drinks on the patio on the way so Raccoon Eyes doesn’t give us shit about it later.”

“But I’m gonna ruin my dress!” you whine.

He doesn’t say anything, just raises a scornful eyebrow, then turns around with his hands in his pockets and strides towards the bushes. You scramble behind him, only now noticing the heat has yet to leave your cheeks, and probably won’t any time soon.

You both stay silent for the entire ride. He doesn’t put any music on, and you don’t mind; you’re almost grateful for it. It doesn’t feel awkward—it’s quite the opposite. You appreciate being able to enjoy the calm of the night, the purring of the engine and the night breeze on the skin of your forearm resting on the window.

Everything feels in place. You enjoy the comforting quiet of him, and you suppose he enjoys yours. You turn your head slightly so you can take a little look at him without being too obvious. You feel privileged to catch a glimpse of what he’s like when he’s alone: silent, his features relaxed, neutral. It’s a bit strange to witness but still feels very much like him. You know this is just a part of him he usually tries to conceal.

His eyes are on the road, but he seems to be somewhere else. You wonder what he’s thinking. You’re not discreet enough; he must have felt your eyes on him so he turns to look at you for a brief moment, though keeping his focus on the road. You feel your face heat up in shame and only hope he doesn’t think you’re some kind of creep. There you are, acting all flustered at a boy looking at you like some fourteen year old with a crush.

Half of this is true, though; you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you’ve known him. But damn. In the dark of the night, with the wind ruffling his hair, he looks surreal. His profile is a whole piece of art. He doesn't face you but his eyes...he looks focused. On everything really, not just driving. Focused on life, always thinking, never taking a minute to rest. His nose has this cute curve you want to nip at so bad. His mouth looks so kissable when it’s not twisted in some kind of tantrum he feels like throwing. You turn your eyes to the night sky before he catches you staring again. It’s magnificent—the moon shines bright along with so many stars above the passing trees and still you don’t feel like looking at the stars right now.

You’re gently pulled back to reality when you leave the countryside road and enter the residential area you live in, just outside the city. More and more street lamps line up the road down the hill. You go through the last few blocks before your street and you have to guide him since he’s never come to your place.

He finally parks in front of your little house. Your street is barely lit, the dense trees filtering most of the city lights. When he turns down the engine, you shift to look at him. He’s looking back at you, half-turned to face you.

You should thank him and get out of his car, go home, lock the door behind you and go to sleep. Alone. So you don’t really grasp why you don’t do that—the idea just feels wrong.

You stay still in your seat, trying to think of something to say but nothing comes. He doesn’t say anything either, just looks back at you. He’s so unreadable, but for a second, just a second, you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. You want to believe it’s desire, but you’re not quite sure. You’re not sure of what’s going on in his mind.

However, you are sure of a few other things: you’re sure you’ve been pining for him for almost a decade now. You’re sure he’s not gonna be a huge dick if he ends up rejecting you. You’re sure he looks absolutely breathtaking here, in the dark of the night with a thin ray of light backlighting his beautiful features. And you’re definitely, desperately sure you want to kiss him right now.

So you do. Without thinking, you lean towards him and take his lips in yours.

Although you made the first move, it instantly feels like he’s the one kissing you, and you’re greedily taking all he has to offer. The kiss is slow, but passionate nonetheless: he dominates you immediately without even trying. He tastes a bit like beer, but mostly like those hot, sweet pastries you wait all year round to eat at Christmas, coated with cinnamon and with a meltingly soft caramel core. Maybe it’s his quirk, maybe it’s because you always imagined—always wanted him to taste like this. Nothing could have prepared you for the real deal though.

He sucks at your lower lip like it’s candy, giving it a soft lick and you open your mouth for him to take over. His tongue brushes yours gently at first, then more boldly. Before you know it, your mouth is all claimed territory, all his to do whatever he pleases with. You try to keep up, nipping a bit at his lip, and when he groans low in your mouth, that’s when you realise your hands moved with a mind of their own: one to grip his shirt tight, the other to grab the hair at his nape. Your nails scratch a bit there, and a high-pitched whimper escapes you when he reaches up to do the same.

The position is quite awkward since you’re leaning above the gearshift, but you can only think about the heat that overwhelms you: the heat of the summer air around you. The heat of his lips, of his breath crushing against yours. The heat seizing your cheeks all the way to your ears because, although you’ve saved so many people and fought so many villains, you’ve never been this brave in your entire life. The heat creeping in the most intimate depths of your body at the feel of his tongue taking over your entire being. And fuck, do you want him to take everything of and about you; you’re willing to give it all to him.

You only notice your world felt so full when it feels empty again as he parts from you. He backs away slowly, not all of a sudden, taking the time to take you in, to light some embers and throw them on your soul without any mercy.

Wow, you’ve never felt that empty of intelligence, he really kissed you dumb. Apparently you can only act on instinct instead of reason tonight, so you don’t take a second to think before asking:

“You wanna come inside?”

There’s a silence. A long silence. The longest of your entire life, probably. He just looks at you, doesn’t say a word, and you want a hole to appear and swallow you. Clearly there’s something in his eyes, and maybe you could grasp it if you really looked. But you don’t want to, you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for tonight. So you just babble:

“Hum, please forget I asked. Thanks for the ride. See ya!”

You scramble out of the car and slam the door, your eyes furiously fixed on the ground. It’s a second slam of a door that makes you look up. He’s out and rounds the car with his hands in his pockets, only to stop next to you without leaving your gaze.

“Lead the way,” he says with a slight nod towards your front door.

You do as you’re told, and he’s towering right behind you when you reach the door to your house. You can feel his body heat ghost over your back, overwhelming as you fumble with your keys for a second. You finally open, enter first and hold the door for him, his sweet smell a whiplash effect on your face when he brushes your shoulder on his way in. You close the door, drop your bag there on the floor and you both take a few seconds to take your shoes off. When you turn around, he’s facing you, his hands stuffed back in his pockets and his intimidating gaze fixed on you.

“So, do you…want a drink or something?” you stutter with a weak smile.

You only get a sly smirk for an answer, and he edges towards you until your back hits the door. He’s never been that close to you. You’re not even sure anyone has ever been that close to you. You feel deliciously trapped, gently cornered against your door. It sucks the oxygen right out of your lungs, the way he’s crowding your space like his own.

He finally digs one hand out of his pocket and his fingers reach up to graze your cheek, your jaw, then lock around your chin. A soft but firm hold on what’s left of your inhibitions. You would look him in the eyes if you weren’t so obsessed with his lips and the way they slightly part while he’s watching you fall apart for him.

He’s the one joining your mouths this time. He must feel your heart beating against his lips at this point, because you sure can feel it try to escape your chest through your throat.

He’s a bit rougher now; still slow, but pushes and pulls against and off your lips in a series of glorious little noises. You can taste a bit of beer in his mouth, but it’s his exquisite scent that’s engulfing your entire world right now; it’s all over you, it makes you feel his. It’s not so much his cologne but the way his skin seizes it to create something new, something sweet. It makes your head spin in all the best ways.

You’re beginning to understand why he’s been keeping his hands in his pockets obstinately. Now they’re everywhere, running all over you with a sense of urgency, like he’s been keeping himself from doing this for way too long. One grabs the back of your neck, thumbing at the skin right under your ear, moves down your shoulder, your arm, and back up again. He rests the other at your hip, heads lower then; exploring your thigh, clenching tight around the fabric of your dress, holding it up above your knee. A shiver races up your spine when the skin of his hand finally meets that of your thigh. Eventually remembering that you also have hands, and that it’s about time you start using them, you hold onto his shoulders, clutching and creasing the dark fabric of his shirt in your fingers.

You can feel his strength caging you whole, pushing you harder against the door.  You can’t escape, as if you would ever want to. It sends a flash of electricity down between your legs and pulls a pleased moan out of you. You can feel him smirk against your mouth. He breaks the kiss, only to whisper low against your lips: 

“Eager, are we, sweetness?”

You mostly feel embarrassed, but God do you love it when he talks to you like this—it makes you feel weak, makes you want to get down on your knees for him. He doesn’t need to know that though.

“Shut up,” you just retort with a grin, before grabbing him by the hair and pulling him down to crash against your lips again. You don’t really know who devours the other, but his tongue caressing the roof of your mouth is driving you crazy. He breaks the kiss again and has you whining in impatience, but he’s not going far, just looks you in the eyes while your foreheads join and your noses brush, your panting breaths crashing against each other’s mouth.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

You barely get the time to nod in the general direction of your room before he lifts you up on his shoulder like you weigh nothing, without the slightest bit of gentleness. You let out a squeal of surprise, soon followed by a laugh, your head hanging by the small of his back. You can at least enjoy the nice round view of his ass in his perfectly fitting jeans, it’s a win-win.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, you know.”

“Shut up, I’m a fucking gentleman,” he snarls.

Reaching the footboard of your bed, he throws you on it with just as much elegance. You bounce on the mattress with a giggle, which doesn’t last when he crawls over you like a starving feline.

He takes over your lips again, dominating you with so much ease you’re starting to wonder if he wasn’t born to be on top of you, breaking you apart. He lets his lips drag over to your jaw, your neck, a gentle smooth over your sensitive skin. He bites and licks and sucks like a starved man, and you can’t help but moan under his sweet ministrations. He’s nipping at your ear, groaning directly into it when you finally put your hands at use.

You start with the first button of his shirt but take your time all the way down. You revel in this incredible feeling of undressing Bakugou Katsuki, pro-hero Dynamight, like you would unwrap a stunning Christmas gift. You indulge yourself with the teasing brush of your knuckles and fingertips against his scorching hot skin. You feel the muscles clench there, and he blesses you with a little noise in your ear, somewhere between a groan and a moan. You don’t know what that is, but fuck do you want to hear it again.

His skin is now free and all yours to run your hands flat on, over his abs and all the way up to his chest. You can feel his impressive strength resonate against the delicate skin of your hands—it’s mesmerizing. He swifts away from you and gets up on his knees to whip off his shirt and throw it in some corner of your room. Soon he’s back on you and delves straight into your neck, pushes a thin strap of your dress down your shoulder and grazes his lips over your collarbone. 

His hand strokes the length of your leg and gently rides your dress higher and higher up your thigh. A little detail pops at the back of your mind like a fierce whiplash and you flinch a bit under him, which makes him freeze right away.

“What is it?” He sounds unsure now, has this look in his eyes like a kid who’s broken something fragile. “You know I can stop if you’re not comfortable with this,” he says with a frown, carefully backing up and away from you.

“No, it’s not that—I really want this!” you reassure him—the last thing you want is to stop this. “I just didn’t think we were gonna…you know—”

“We were gonna what?” he teases with a crooked smirk, amused by your embarrassment. You choose to ignore both his question and the heat pooling deep in your belly at his puckish voice.

“Hum. You know…My underwear is not exactly what you would expect.”

The look on his face shifts utterly. His red, hypnotizing eyes go round and his lips part a bit in what seems to be confusion. It’s strange to see his angular features curve in such a childish expression.

“The fuck? That’s what this is about?” He’s dumbfounded, his voice reaching a bit higher than usual. Now you’re not even sure why you were anxious in the first place. “I don’t give a flying shit about your underwear. Don’t give me this self-conscious bullshit, I’m not having any of that. Now if you want me to stop, all you have to do is say it.” You don’t even think before you answer, you don’t have to.

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good.”

He dives down on you to kiss you again so you can focus on his lips when his hand pulls your dress all the way up your waist. The fabric dragging against your skin leaves shivers in its wake. He parts away to take a look at you, and stays up on his knees in silence, fixing your waist and your underwear for a solid ten seconds. You inhale quietly, you want to say something, but he cuts you right off:

“No, shut up. You’re hot as fuck. And this?” He hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, “this is so fucking cute.”

His fingertips trail over the cotton fabric of your panties right below your clit and he might as well have set you on fire. The air is fresh at night and still you feel like you’re floating near the sun right now. His hand brushes up your waist as he leans down and kisses your stomach, your dress riding up with his every action.

The hem slides up past the bound of your breasts, and he doesn’t seem surprised to note you weren’t wearing any bra. Maybe he noticed earlier in the night, maybe he’s attentive to this kind of detail. The idea of him imagining what you’re wearing—or not wearing—underneath your dress makes you feel giddy; you only want to answer all the questions he might have been asking himself, to show him everything he’s willing to know about you.

He takes one of your breasts in his huge hand and drags his soft lips back up to kiss your neck, not even bothering to take your dress fully off. You moan quietly, feeling him kissing all his way back down to your underwear. Soon enough, there isn’t a single part of your torso, from your neck to the hem of your panties, that he hasn’t touched with his lips. He’s gotta taste everything, every bit of you, like he’s in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

When he reaches your panties again, he shoots you a challenging look, an unspoken ‘don’t you dare get embarrassed’. He spreads your thighs wider and delves face first between your legs. You can’t repress the breathy gasp that escapes you when you feel his teeth close around the drenched fabric—his nose hitting your clit while at it—and pull your panties down your thighs by the mouth, until the angle of your spread legs prevents him from going further. He finishes off with his actual hands and you can’t help but burst out laughing at his—peculiar—way of undressing you.

“Oh my God,“ you try to speak clearly but you’re laughing a bit too hard to articulate properly. “Who does that?”

“Fuck you. That’s how much I love your panties,” and his actions say the exact opposite as he throws the miserable piece of cotton to some corner of your room without giving it a second look.

“You’re an animal,” you giggle, trying hard to catch your breath.

He doesn’t laugh with you, of course he doesn’t, but the little amused grin it still elicits from him warms your body in all sorts of places. It makes you want to nip at this little grin so bad. You sit up and you’re now facing him, the both of you standing on your knees.

You make a show of shedding your dress over your head and let it slip down your arm to crash on the floor. You’re fully nude in front of him, only covered by the warm, tender embrace of his gaze wandering all over you. He stays quiet while he devours you just with his eyes. You get a bit closer to him, until your noses brush and your foreheads join, never breaking eye contact. His body heat is back all over you, devastating, all-consuming.

He hisses a bit, his gorgeous face tensing in a light frown as you drag your hands down the gorgeous valleys of his abs, scratching your nails a bit there. You trail down to his belt, unbuckling it easily, and zip his fly down. He lets go of you for a second so he can get rid of his pants and boxers in one go. You don’t get the chance to see much before he’s right back against you; his hands circle the small of your back in a swift move and he pulls you urgently against his chest.

It’s almost violent the way your bodies collide, like two waves crashing against each other. Once again, his hands are all over you. Yours return the favor all too gladly. The way he touches you makes you think he regrets having only two hands. They graze over your stomach, a featherlight touch at first. Slide up your sides and back down, then up again. On your breasts, squeezing there. Circling your back, grabbing your nape, a little too firmly, but he doesn’t seem to even notice. He’s way too caught up in the feel of you. And you’re way too caught up in the feel of him, crowding your entire universe like there’s nothing on this dumb planet that matters aside from his hands on you, his mouth on yours, and his cock trapped between you two.

And God, his cock—you can feel it, hot and swelled and impressive, starting to rut against you because he needs you that bad. You moan at the feeling, grabbing his hair and pulling a bit, but still pushing him harder against your needy, growing whiny mouth. You manage to slip a hand between you two and you don’t even recognize yourself when you grab his cock without any hesitation. Your hand slides down easily as you start to stroke up and down cause he’s drooling pre-cum abundantly by now.

“Ngh, fuck—” He groans like a predator, like he’s not the one with his dignity wrapped up in your pretty little hand.

You move slowly, making the most of it while you can play with him a bit, while he lets you. But Katsuki is not one to let anyone have the upper hand. You know it, he knows it, and you both know it was only a matter of seconds before he would claim his due.

His hand crawls down your core and a single finger parts your dripping folds. He’s nipping at your ear, panting in it as he teases your clit, drawing a loud moan out of you. He’s painfully slow, dragging his tongue on the shell of your ear as he enters you with one finger. It makes your hand still on his cock, and as soon as you become aware of that, you stroke him faster.

Now it’s not a stupid competition, you can assure it’s not. But it damn well looks like one. His finger works wonders in you and is soon joined by another. His thumb is merciless on your clit, he’s got you dripping all over his wrist, curling his two fingers inside like he just knows it’ll drive you insane. And it does. You even feel the bastard smirk against your jaw when you let a long, loud moan of his name escape your swollen lips.

You grab his jaw with your free hand and crush your lips on his, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth and pulling. Looking straight into his eyes as you do, watching his precious guard crumble down when you slide your thumb on his tip repeatedly, and he lets out a drawn-out groan before grabbing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You can’t suppress this teasing grin that stretches your face at that.

“Too much for you already, big boy?”

A second later you don’t grin anymore. You feel small. You’ve never felt so small in your life actually. Something just shifted in his eyes, they’re now piercing right through your soul. You catch a spark of playfulness in them, though, like a tiger playing with a ball of yarn with paws big enough to rip your entire face off. His voice is a low groan, a vertiginous hole you tumble into as he retorts:

“Oh, so now Miss ‘Don’t look at my panties’ is feeling cocky all of a sudden?”

You don’t get a second to take his words in. Two strong hands grab the back of your knees, lift you and drop you on your back with a roughness you’re not sure you find more arousing or more scary. You gasp a squeal of surprise, bouncing on the mattress, before he’s caging you again. His gaze on you is murderous, his smile predatory as he towers you and suddenly he looks—feels—bigger. In less than a second, he’s got an iron hold on both of your hands above your head, and even though you try, there’s no escaping it.

“Thought I told you to be careful, sweetheart. You wouldn’t want to piss me off, would you?”

It’s not his fingers that press on your dripping cunt this time. His tip coats in your juices, sliding up to rub against your clit, pulsing at the sweet but rough contact. You whine loudly, your head dropping back on the pillow behind you.

“How about you put that bratty little mouth to good use and tell me where you keep your condoms?” He lowers down on you, traps you a bit more with every inch closer to your naked chest, arched like it’s craving contact, begging him to crush you with his weight. “Unless you want me to fuck you raw and destroy that pretty pussy of yours?”

You feel paralyzed, drowning in desire, and manage to gather your thoughts just to simply answer : “Second drawer of the nightstand.”

He rummages in the drawer and digs out your box of condoms. He lets go of your wrists to open a condom and slip it down his intimidating length. You don’t move your hands while his are busy, though—you know better than that. When he’s ready, he leans down on you and enters you without any more warning, stretching your hole like it has never been stretched.

You can’t see his face as he sinks in, he buries it deep into your neck: nuzzling the sensitive skin there, his messy hair and hypnotizing scent invading your space, his weight deliciously oppressive on your whole body. You hold onto him like your life depends on it, your legs coming up to wrap around his waist, your hands finally moving to roam up his back and into his hair, although he hasn’t even moved yet. You turn your head to him, to take in his scent, burying your nose in his hair and inhaling deeply. You still can’t see his face though, and you’re starting to wonder if there’s something wrong.

“Katsuki?”

Like you turned some switch on, he starts moving, tantalizingly slow. Dragging all his length out of you, and you can feel every inch of it rubbing against your walls. But you still can’t see his face, you can only rely on the sweet breaths that crash against your neck. His hand comes up to bury in your hair, as if to keep you there, keep you from leaving. Soon enough, he quickens the pace and has you a moaning mess pressed against the mattress. You’re now clawing at his back like a cat in heat; you just can’t stop your hands from moving: his neck, his shoulder blades, his waist, even his ass for a moment.

He’s panting in your ear, grabbing everything he can as well: his hand in your hair keeps your head turned so that he has full access to your neck, nipping at the skin and he lets out a groan there. You squeeze everything that gets in your hand, pulling a bit at his hair when he bites a little too hard. His other hand grabs onto the fat of your ass, right beneath your hip, tight enough to leave bruises for the next four days. He hits deeper and deeper inside of you, gets this sweet angle that makes you see stars. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies, you’re glued to each other without even enough space for him to thrust properly. You both don’t really care though, you want him as close as it’s physically possible.

“Katsuki…look at me, please—”

He leaves your neck for the first time since he’s entered you and leans down to kiss you, wet and messy. You kiss him back with every force you have left, out of sync because of the powerful thrusts sinking you repeatedly into the mattress. Your nails dig deeper and deeper in the soft skin of his shoulders and your whole body quakes with pleasure, every single one of your muscles going more taut with every slam of his hips against yours.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m right here, fuck—”

If you were ever restraining from vocalizing your pleasure, it’s out of the question now. The sounds you make, you can’t suppress them, you can only mewl in his ear—a series of little desperate noises, and you can’t really register when they grew into moans of his name.

“Oh God, Katsuki…Katsuki!”

“That’s it, princess.” A lick at your jaw. “Tell me who fucks you this good.” A kiss at your neck. “Tell everyone in this fucking neighborhood.” A nip at your ear, a bit harder.

He’s pounding savagely into you at this point, and as your palms run flat on his shoulders, you can feel the clawing marks you just left there. That feeling gives you the final push towards your climax. You squeeze around him with a desperate cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, swallowing like he can taste your orgasm on the tip of his tongue. He soon dives over the edge right behind you with a tremendous thrust. His hips roll still, riding his high with less and less intent, and more and more abandon.

You still haven’t let go of him yet, still clinging to him like a flustered koala as you both catch your breaths. He crashed on you face first between your breasts, and you only notice after a few seconds. You stay there for a minute, both your panting the only sound filling the room, so you’re a bit startled when he pulls out and he rolls over to the side so he can get rid of the condom.

There’s a bit of a ‘now what’ moment. You’re not sure what he wants to do but again, you’re sure of what you want. You want him to stay.

“I don’t know what you’re…I mean, you...You can spend the night here,” you stutter a bit, not so sure of yourself now. “If you want, I mean. If not, it’s totally fine, I guess—”

“Shut up,” he just says, wrapping an arm around you to press you against his chest, and you happily oblige. Everything feels right, in a way. It feels easy. The silence is comfortable. His chest is comfortable to lay your head on, grazing your fingertips over his stomach absentmindedly. The future is comfortable, seems to be, at least. There’s no uncertainty, everything is crystal clear. It’s safe. It’s him, after all. You feel like you already know about the memories you haven’t shared with him yet. This sweet idea lulls you to sleep. But another one pulls you right back awake all of a sudden.

“Oh God, I should text Momo that I’m home! She must be worried!” He groans at your words, clearly unhappy to have this subject brought up right now.

“You think that bunch of losers even noticed we left?” And his eyes roll up right before he even finishes his sentence, because you’re scrambling out of the bed and to your living-room, right where you left your purse and your phone in it. The screen has you frowning a bit as your eyes struggle to adapt to the sudden light.

16 missed calls. 37 text messages. The last one being a series of eggplant emojis from Kaminari.

You put your phone right back in your purse. You’re craving for quiet still, and there is peace awaiting in the next room. The most wonderful kind of peace, at that. The noisy world can always wait.

#bnha smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fic #bnha fanfic #weasel writes

[tagapagsalaysay]

This is kind of a broad ask ig, but u can tell us more about ur ocs? They all have such interesting and metal designs. Super interested in what appears to be like a whole family?

No worries, i'm in the mood to elaborate

Overall theres this media project that has the working title I hate spelunking, a worldbuilding effort that focuses on a hollow earth world called B* and seemingly normal modern humans. so far ive made different parts in the timeline that have distinct casts and themes

these two (suzy and pascual) belong to the main cast of the main IHS story, the one that starts in the middle of the timeline of B*. The story focuses on the characters understanding the nature of their world and handling their own mental and interpersonal conflicts. I like to think of it as somewhat fantasy math with fantasy psychology (remember that post). A lot of it is stuff i pull from shit in college that interests me.

The premise of this is that theyre deep in a society thats internalized their finiteness but also with the addition of them being a closed system, where theres nothing really on the surface or the outside shell of the planet theyre living in. Maybe they dont even visualize an outside shell at all. However, theres a strange phenomenon where getting your brain locked in a mental spiral, feedback loop, etc. about anything regarding the world and its systems will manifest into reality as.... Something equally wonderful and terrifying :). It's a story about interpersonal stuff and having too much math in your system. Also topology jokes

The inhabitants of B* assume that this phenomenon just happens to "cursed" people, theres a whole bit of questioning where the blame really goes, but its all just a funny whirlwind of people overthinking and im still not sure what medium i would make this in. So yeah.

Suzy and Pascual are unlikely buddies who met at a strange period in the timeline, and suzy has questionable and kind of mysterious origins while pascual is a mailman pretty much. The other characters found on the family image are connected to the deeper inertia of the plot, where they ask the main duo for help with dealing with the "cursed" people.

These two guys are Hopper and Cricket, Irene's go to lackeys who help find the cursed and attempt to help them. They go around and ride a motorcycle and whatnot, but they also have a whole arc about becoming involved in the same phenomenon. Hopper is concerned about being too much of a lead in their team after some developments, and Cricket is worried about making Hopper too much of a sidekick. They have a tight bond, and both literally go by they/them. They also have those cricket bats for the ~Theme~

A photo of the three. Okay. I know everyone is probably hyped for me to explain what irenes deal is in this so i'll try. Irene's totally not a front job is being an archivist and historian for many of the OLD old history of B*, including its origins, its age, and a lot of just what we would call prehistoric in modern Normal Earth History. His presence in the main ihs story develops from a background mysterious force to a full on anti-villain, where his whole "cursed" operation turns for the worst. His knowledge just puts the world at risk by virtue of the overthinking phenomenon, not by choice though. His arc focuses on desperately trying not to cause catastrophic damage with his thinking, but he has to learn a thing or two in the process. He isnt the only person who can cause large scale damage like he can sooo :)

Petra is Irene's sister who also works alongside him as another historian, but has full control of their own thought process. While not completely susceptible to the phenomenon, she does fall short at times of emotional problems. They also work along with cricket and hopper, but her focus is in the clean up of their operation. She is also one of the first people to suspect something different about what B* actually is.

The cursed are designed as "monster" of the week type characters that retain in the cast, but i'll keep those a secret for now :)

Thats some of the main IHS cast so ill explain some of the other timeline stuff. One of the different branching points in the media is a sortnof backstory spinoff for Pascual and why they found themselves doing deliveries up a community that lives vertically. Another is:

Dubbed The Mountain Story as a working title, this story is set centuries before the main IHS story involving a large mountain and a wacky hermit tour guide named Nikki. This one is an experimental short story about nikki and their unique attachment to the local mountain as they lead YOU, a tourist, on a 2-3 hour hike. its one of those writing exercises that go into stuff like summit fever, breaking worldviews, and dealing with psychosis unrelated to summit fever. Nikki is a local tour guide who lives at a hut on a hill wedged to the base of the mountain, carries about 3 walking sticks, and likes to make things on his computer. I dont want to spoil more though, but their story is completely detached to the current IHS story.

The other characters on my post tend to just be one offs for similar "writing exercises", but i might reuse them in the future. hope you liked this whirlwind of a post, because im still churning out more OCs for these funny guys

#original character #ay #kingfishercatboat #undescribed #thanks for asking :)

[dasomlimie]

Heyyy! I hope ur doing okay if ur requests r open can l request reader asking if she can see whats under sanzu’s mask like that one scene in naruto where he tried so hard to see kakashi’s mask something similar and funny like that take ur time l love ur work <333

%% BEHIND THAT MASK! #!/

characters : aged up!—Sanzu Haruchiyo

a/n : i cant believe im rewrtiting this sorry if this is half assed tumblr didn't save my draft earlier, enjoy ig

Sanzu Haruchiyo..... your masked bf sometimes you were wondering what behind that mask but ofc you wanted to respect his boundaries and dont want to make him uncomfortable, but curiousity start to eat you alive so you have a little plan in your mind

sometimes there's a lot of idea in your mind on why Sanzu didn't remove his mask, maybe he have big lips that unmatched with his face future? or maybe he have crooked teeth? or even worse he doesn't have mouth! but you scratched the last idea since how did he speak if he doesn't have mouth? his nose? yeah that idea once stuck in your head but you decided to remove it because it doesn't make sense at all

you called Sanzu to meet you up infront of a restaurant which he agreed since maybe you were hungry and he is too, you greet Sanzu before taking his hand and walk into the restaurant with him

"today is my treat" you said smiling he raise an eyebrow you were cheerful more than usual "did something good happen?" he ask you shook his head "nope i just wanted to spend time with my lovely boyfriend" you said he nodded start looking at the menu

"are you ready to order?" he ask after a few minutes you nodded letting him call the waiter, you both said your order as the writer write down your order, you noticed Sanzu's order was a heavy meal he probably going to remove his mask

you smile to yourself before mentally patting yourself for coming up with this idea as soon as your food arrived you stare at Sanzu causing him to raise an eyebrow "whats up my love?" he ask you shook your head "nothing eat up" he nod "you too" you nod

you stare as he was about to remove his mask until your phone start ringing you look at the caller ID noticing it was your boss you look at Sanzu "eat first i have to answer this call" you said he nod as he watch your figure walking out from the restaurant

you listen to your boss rant about how her husband keep cancelling their date and how she think he was cheating on her while you were wondering why the hell your boss telling you all of this as she finally hang up you walk into the restaurant only to be greeted by Sanzu scrolling through his phone you blink

"oh baby! what took you too long? oh and im sorry i finished my food first i haven't eat since yesterday" he said giving you closed eyes smile you nod sitting "did you forgot to eat again?" you ask he nod "im very busy yesterday and just go to sleep as soon as i got home" he said you nod

attempt 1 : failed

"want some?" you ask offering your food he shook his head "im full already" he said you nodded visibly deflated "whats up pretty girl? you were all cheerful a while ago" he said chuckling you shook your head from side to side finding a reason and decided to use your boss phone call as your reason "she did it again" you said he pat your head

"did she start ranting to you again? what was is about?" he ask you sigh "about her husband this and that you know the usual why don't they just divorce?" you said leaning to your chair

"maybe you should find a new job if you were that sick of your boss personal life rant" he said you nodded "yeah i should" you said

the second attempt might make him mad but what is life without a little thrill and spice right? right.

you took a deep breath before apologizing gripping the tray in your hand you walk inside the room smiling at Sanzu you walk toward him then purposely trip yourself

you watch everything happen in slow motion how the juice flew and wetting his mask you cheer silently before your face kiss the floor you groan but being muffled by your carpet Sanzu gasp ignoring his wet clothes and mask

"y/n?! are you okay? oh my why are you suddenly become clumsy?" he ask as he help you to get up you have to swallow your image its not even 6 month into your relationship here you are doing stupid things just to what behind his mask

he hiss when he saw your red forehead with a little bloody lips "we should get that lips treated" he suggest you nodded "let me put this away your hoodie was in my closet along with extra mask" you said silently before walking out from the room leaving a little space for you to peak in

you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch his half naked body you silently cheer as he was about to remove his mask when your doorbell rang causing you to curse silent

you keep debating either to look and discover what behind your boyfriend mask or to answer the door you were deep in thought when Sanzu clear his throat his cheeks tinted with rosy pink just like his hair

"i didn't know you're that type of person" he said clearing his throat again you look up before cursing yourself "oh no you got the wrong idea let me go and answer the door ok?" you said walking a little bit too faster "be careful!" Sanzu called as he look you who almost tripped twice

attempt 2 : failed

you look at Sanzu as you keep following—more like stalking—him you tried to make sure you didn't lost him maybe he would remove his mask at the most random time especially when he's alone? yeah thats what you think ,you were now dressed in all black outfit paired with black cap and black mask

yup much like a stalker

you watch him keep turning and leading you to a dark hallways wondering what he was doing here, little did you know he noticed you following him but didn't have any idea it was his girlfriend

"fuck" you curse silently as you lost him you were about to take another turn when someone pull you to opposite turn you yelped both in suprise and pain when your back make a harsh contact to the cold and dirty wall you hiss from how strong someone's grip on your hands is

"who are you and why are you following me?" he ask you stay silent too scared to answer him, Sanzu chuckle "why are you all silent? acting all scared are we?" he said you shiver under his sharp gaze

"i ask you questions" he said you shut your eyes he sigh annoyed and start to loose his patients then decided to remove both your mask and cap you felt his grip on your hands loosening

"y/n?" he said in softer voice than earlier you still shut your eyes tightly slightly trembling "darling look at me" he said as one of hand slither to your waist while the other cup your cheeks thumb caressing your cheeks "open your eyes my love im not going to hurt you" he said you open your eyes slowly meeting his soften gaze

"why are you following me like that? i thought you were one of those people who tried to get me again" he said chuckling you didn't answer instead hugging him burying your face into his chest

"did i scare you that much?" he ask you shook your head as a no, you were actually embarassed of yourself for doing dumb thing to get him to remove his mask

"then why?" he ask hugging you close to him "im sorry" you said he raise an eyebrow "why?" "im sorry for doing dumb thing lately and following you like earlier" you said he chuckled you look up to him

"i get it now" he said removing you from him gently then cup your cheeks with both of his hands "you know you can just ask right?" you pout "i just dont want to make you feel uncomfortable" he shook his head

"you will never im actually waiting for you to ask me by yourself" he said you nodded "then can i uh you know" he nod letting you remove his mask

heart beating loudly Sanzu was prepared from any insult from you yet nothing came our from your mouth, does he freak you out? he was about to apologize when you whispered out a very unexpected word he expects you to say

"beautiful" you said he froze not believing what he just heard "what?" he ask for confirmation "i said beautiful" you repeat before caressing his scars with both of your thumb he sigh in relief

"really? i thought you were going to freaked out" he said you shook your head with confused face while your attention was still on his face "why would i?" you ask

"people always told me its disgusting i thought you would too but apparently not im relieved" you heart broke a little from his words "who the hell said your scars is disgusting?! let me beat them up" you said with determination he shook his head "its okay you were an absolute angel i cant imagine you beating people up" he said pressing a kiss on your forehead

"you look hotter without mask" you whisper he smile "is that so?" he ask you nodded then cover his face with his mask "and only me can see you my beautiful and handsome and hot boyfriend without his mask no one can see your full face they would fall for you" you said he chuckled before ruffling your hair

"whatever you say angel" he said you smile as he lead you out from the hallway just so your know he would use your silly attempt to tease you in the future

attempt 3 : successfully failed

!%! © HNEULWH— i did not allow my work to be used or adapted in any form without my permission !#//

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu headcanons #sanzu haruchiyo x reader

[bbykeijis]

omfg i love you and your writings. i’m so sorry but i’m going to start bothering you know. btw tysm for writing my previous asks. could i get class 1-a with a fem!british!black reader cs that’s honestly me, please? she’s got mean humour. swears a lot. bullies bakugou that he cries himself to sleep every day at 8pm. jaffa cakes and biscoff crunchy spread. is aizawa’s fav bc i say so. understands what aoyama says in french and laughs her ass off when he mocks people. new cook in the dorms. bye <3.

“KATSUKi’S A BELLEND” | blackbritish!reader

summary: when y/n, the new student from the uk, joins class 1a <3 (blackbritish!reader) (fem!reader)

author’s note: don’t even with the crunchy biscoff spread because that shit is SO GOOD??? i had so much fun writing this one,, so glad there’s black brit in my tumblr space bc we gotta stick together 💀

genre & warnings: comedy ! fluff ! monoma ! language !

the moment you walked through that door mina claimed you as her bestfriend as she mf should,, the class fell in love with your accent and at least one bitch had to pull the “it’s chewsday innit!” bullshit

it was monoma. kicked him in the balls. as you mf should.

aizawa is literally frightened impressed with the amount of curses that can come out of your mouth in one sentence

everyone is confused when you start using british slang. you called bakugou a ‘twat’ for calling jaffa cakes gross once. he’s never forgiven you since </3

he also dissed the texture of biscoff crunchy spread,,, you don’t wanna know what kinda war that started…

i can see sero, denki, mina, and jiro getting into grime & the mental image of them rapping along to stormzy makes me laugh my ass off

denki + dizzee rascal = gold

& watch denki try and pull up to class tryna spud up aizawa and calling him his ‘g’ because you dared him too. detention for the both of you ig

aoyoma slips some french into conversations with you to see if you’re worthy enough and when you reply back he literally celebrates. everyone’s like ??? and you tell them you took gcse french and they just nod…

they still confused but who cares? you & aoyama don’t, you can talk shit about them and never get caught 😌

“hey deku, don’t let that bellend get to you, yeah?” “lmaoooo bakugou is a what?”

the best thing about humbling katsuki is he can never understand half of what you’re bloody saying. bakugou doesn’t sleep early because he’s a good student. man is just overwhelmed and needs to cry his frustrations away 😭

yh anyways!

you make the class jerk chicken ONE TIME and suddenly you’re the new chef of the dorm room. you feed them well & it’s never any of that soggy fish & chips bullshit

nandos style dinner? DONE. jollof rice? DONE. shoto is sliding notes under your door asking for the recipe <33

bakugou’s bitter you’re a better cook than him but as soon as he bites into your food he’ll be begging for another plate smh

you show your love through insults & good food <3

“iida, you remind me of someone-” “nonono, don’t call me bo-” “boris johnson,,,, yeah <3”

if you expose the class to the sidemen get ready for them to fucking quote them everyday and for aizawa to HATE you

you make it up to him by introducing cbeebies to eri though :) balamory is her shit

overall you’re a star & ua is lucky to have someone as amazing as you 💀

© all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to me, bbykeijis. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works. i do not allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

#mha #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #mha x black reader #mha bakugou #mha scenarios #bnha imagines #class 1a #mha x reader #black british #mha imagines #bakusquad #dekusquad

[tonesplash]

edward x reader

a/n: this is my first time writing anything ever i just wanted to write about edward joking around, long the way i learned unmoving isnt a word, apparently.

warnings: smoochin, reader character is vaguely brown and a gamer ig, uuuh gta mention?? thats it 

(p/n) = parents name

"I could almost hear your hair breaking off from the driveway." You barely flinch when he suddenly appears behind you in the mirror, evidently back from his hunt.

"Is this you saying me being bald is going to be a problem? Or are you gonna let me do what I need to do?" you snark, leaned over a bowl of ammonia with tired arms and a tingly scalp.

Edward raises his hands and brows in mock surrender, lovingly watching you ruin your hair from the bathroom door.

"I'm just asking you to be a little more careful, chemical burns do bleed after all." the mental image that flashes is enough to make the both of you grimace.

"Thank you, for that visual." he frowns.

"Oh but I love to think about you going buck wild on my bleeding skull." you bite your lip in a show of faux arousal.

"Not funny." Edward huffs but smiles anyways as he takes a step and in a flash lifts the sloppily folded instructions off the counter, no doubt reading it all in less than a second.

"What would we tell my parents when I'm pasty as hell all of a sudden?" you finish applying the bleach paste to the piece you were on and move to give him space.

"Venom doesn't burn off melanin (y/n)" he laughs as he grabs the application brush from your extended hand, parting your curls to get at the back of your head.

"How would you know? There any brown girls running at the speed of sound across the united states to beat my ass that I should know about?"

He drops his head to your shoulder to laugh and his shoulders shake with the effort to hold it in.

"Have you picked a color yet?" Edward lifts his head, still smiling as he ignores your foolishness.

"Perhaps I have, but no peeking! It's a surprise!" you sing as you shimmy your shoulders and vogue at yourself in the mirror. His free hand comes down on your shoulder to steady you.

"Stay still, I'm trying to concentrate." The little crease between his perfect brows is enough evidence to prove so.

"Oooooh" you draw out the sound. "so like when you were trying to put the bag on my head inside out and I was a walking dollar store advert for three weeks?" you purse your lips and meet his golden pout in the mirror.

"As I recall, I had profusely apologized" he continues to evenly part and coats your hair, "and I bought you that hat you wanted to help cover it." You close your eyes in exaggerated exasperation, crossing your arms, ready to admonish this immortal man like the boy he acts like.

"Edward, wearing that beret to school every day, for that long, made (P/N) think I was manic." he dips the brush into the bowl one final time and begins gathering your hair to wrap for processing.

      "I thought it was very sweet how nice they were to me until you took it off." you finish tying the bag off as he wraps his arms around your waist to hook his chin over your shoulder.

    You twist to lean against the counter and throw your arms over his shoulders. You really did miss him this past week. He watches your expression carefully.

"Can I kiss you?"

    "I don’t see any issue, seeing as I can hardly smell you over the ammonia." You both share a smile at his dumb little joke.

But they fade as you both lean in, and he's lucky you're a big fan of slow burns because when your lips meet and his hands slowly slide up your back as he gently presses you into the counter, you're in heaven.

***

After an already irresponsibly long processing time and the urging of your justifiably concerned boyfriend, you close him out of your cluttered bathroom for rinsing and subsequent coloring.

You can hear him puttering about upstairs in your bedroom as you give yourself a cramp in the neck rinsing your head in the tub.

Once the tub is thoroughly stained and the water runs clear, you towel dry your hair, ready to show off the final results.

You make your way upstairs to find your door cracked open and your tv playing some classical music? Alright. You open the door and find Edward giving his damndest to parallel park a car in (insert video game).

You lean against the doorframe, watching for a moment before you identify what his problem is.

"That's not gonna end well man, you got the MadCatz."

"The what?" He says, looking away from the screen to watch you in the doorway. Your eyes stay fixed on the screen.

"MadCatz is the shitty controller brand I give to my little cousins when they come over so they think that they are playing the game. It hardly worked straight out of the box--- you're about to hit that lady."

In the two seconds he spent admiring your new hair, the virtual car had idled far enough to be dangerously close to a pedestrian who was cursing and gesturing wildly at the now unmoving car.

"How do I get her to move?"

"Don't worry about it, just go." You shrug, trying not to laugh. His choice of radio station is really not helping.

"But then the mirror would hit her!"

"Hit her then! She should've moved already!"

"(Y/N) I'm the one on the sidewalk!" he counters, almost genuinely frustrated.

"Just hand it to me." He relents and places the cheap hunk of plastic in your hand as you lay next to him on the bed, facing the tv. He begins to play with your damp hair, admiring the new color in the light from your window.

     But Edwards hands freeze in place when he idly tunes into your thoughts and faster than you have done anything in your entire life, you yank the controller under your chest and awkwardly crush your arms as the player character exits the car and pulls out a baseball bat.

"(Y/n), give me the controller." he's awkwardly hovering his hands around your body, considering the best plan of attack that doesn't involve intimate contact.

The angry woman stumbles back when she meets the player character's crazed glare, but continues yelling obscenities. And with one mighty swing, she is forcibly moved away from the car and collapses onto the curb.

You begin to cackle as you get back into the car and speed off down the road. Over the soaring orchestra on the radio and your own evil laughter, you fail to notice Edward has gone quiet beside you.

You park the car under a bridge as the cops begin their search and turn to hand back the now sweaty controller.

Only to be immediately tackled to your sheets.

His hands pin your wrists to the mattress as he hovers over you and your laughter dies down.

"You are ridiculous," he pauses to kiss the tip of your nose "but this color suits you. "

"Did you manage to set this up with Alice? This song is  pretty romantic."

And then he's kissing you with an almost reckless abandon, taking your already limited breath away almost instantly as you both get caught up in the motions of close contact.

Until a sharp pang and a flash from the television breaks your concentration and your lips with a sharp as you strain your neck to see what the issue is.

When your vision adjusts, Edward is already pressing his face into the mattress beside you in muffled laughter, and you can't help but join in along with him, even as the now dead man onscreen falls to the ground in slow motion gray-scale.

#twilight imagine #edward cullen x reader #reader insert #midnight sun #oneshot #fluff #edward x reader #forks #jasper x reader #mwahahaha #jasper hale x reader #my stuff

[imaginaryhuman]

Insecurities, Fortitude and the Unfortunate Phenomenon of Gatekeeping

Note:

1. I'm trying to not be afraid of my own opinions (this will probably get a different word wall)

2. This isn't a hot take or a "permanent opinion". It's just...current. I think opinions fit a dynamic mold. Or I think it should since circumstances change and experiences can change thought processes.

3. My initial draft for this was a lot more aggressive and angry. When I started writing, I thought I would only tackle the one thing I was very familiar with (insecurities), then I read an article that miffed me a bit because of the gatekeeping vibes, and for a while, I was angry about it but then I realized how common it was. I've heard it from my brothers, I've experienced it with fandoms, with books, with cooking, and with running. There's even a subreddit for it! 👀

It's not like I'd wake up one day and it will be gone. Still, it does push me a few steps back when it comes to conquering slight misanthropy. But it matters to me to say this cause I grew up seeing myself as some last draw.

_____________________________________________________________

"I feel most responsible for myself when I'm insecure" I've wanted to expound on this for a while so here goes:

I've grown to have an intimate (and rather painful) relationship with insecurities. I was a sickly child so I would be in and out of hospitals so frequently that establishing young friendships didn't come easy. Some kids didn't take kindly to impermanence too and it's not anyone's fault. It just happened to be that way. Growing up, I came to realize that I wasn't exactly great at anything. Had I not been exposed to extraordinary minds, maybe I would have come to terms with it much kindly except I wasn't. I always thought that people around me were brilliant, smart, and talented (until now). To the point where I felt the need to alienate myself from it all so I could remain in the forefront of my own mind.

Comparisons come naturally but having them weigh on you is a different ball game altogether. Learning ways out of it is always challenging because insecurities aren't just a singular form of monster-- Sometimes it's about the future, sometimes it's body image, sometimes it's the gripping idea of not being enough for anything you love and it's all so cursed and horrible.

There was that time when more things were piled up on the mental shelving. I was talking shit about someone. Sure, people do it all the time but I think that time I was... viciously and purposelessly nitpicking. Everything I could say about that person, I said it. Totally not proud of that moment and a friend thought so too! First, they told me to shut the fuck up. Just like that, really. Next is they pointed it out. As in told me "V, you have a problem and it's really fine being a total hater but you're not usually like this with other things you dislike. What's wrong?" and then we EXPLORED. Doing this can be so cringe a lot of times but hey, we face the music in this club! I was happy to not be thinking about it alone and the experience made me learn a new way of confronting things and issues that make me feel insecure.

We talked about the whats, whys, and hows of being one hell of a hater and how even if certain reasons are justified. Like, okay, someone did something bad to you and you hate them for it? That's totally valid. Do you find certain traits a bit off your tastes? that's valid too! But even if they are valid feelings, most of the time it's not enough to justify certain actions. The thing is, we don't really have the right to be so up in someone's business about every little thing they do. It's frustrating and I feel like a hypocrite saying this sometimes because I have the obsessive compulsion to keep everyone at arm's length but I feel like there's a parameter where peoples' businesses either become something welcome or becomes a blip on a radar that I'd aggressively shoot down. Although I know that my radar can get too wide and that I need some willpower to hold back snark and suspicion. What can I say, I'm weak to any notions of ill-intent (a byproduct of assault).

But fortitude would sometimes come from borrowed words:

"Don't deny yourself what you think but don't do yourself a disservice by not figuring out what it really is about"

I was told then. To be truthful but exercise tact (I'm neither tactful, clever nor silent hence the trouble that follows) and to be mindful of the undercurrents of my thoughts. I think it's important to take a step back and at least ask yourself the most honest and genuine whys.

Insecurity has a bad rep and is too often used derogatorily for something so common and rather natural. But I feel that ultimately, insecurity stems from an understanding of what you don't have and the frustration of having aspirations. Having aspirations being a good thing but the frustration makes us people act up in so many different ways. For me, insecurities have primarily manifested themselves through the urge to just hide everything that makes me happy because I couldn't (and it's still hard to) stand digs at the things I do to keep me sane. Plus I've always thought them (happy things) few and temporary so that's that. Younger me was weird about it omg.

The rule in this house now though is to express what makes me happy and I think I've saved up a bit of grit to not allow myself to be gatekept (by others and by myself**) from those happy things! I love a lot of things (baking, running, reading, pets, anime & manga, drawing...) and the gatekeeping going on with all those? Surprisingly plenty! A totally different word block (that I won't write because I think this has to be put to rest here), really, and also a total nightmare. But how it applies in the realm of insecurities is... Oh, boi. Ignore it-- it's just bad news as it is strong fuel to a fire you don't want to keep going. If you love doing what you do and you're not hurting anyone then just keep going. I know for a fact that the things I love doing are loved by many others too because running? Creating things? Reading? These are things worth loving without it having to be a competitive chore (If you wanna challenge goals though then hey! Good on you! YOU CAN DO IT!)

Draw your lines, plan your layering in a way that fits your style. Use the tools that work for you. Put on your shoes and get going. I'm only particular with speed because I want to get better (and lol I am not fast) but just being out there and moving? That's already running. Fail some recipes or nail em, whatever happens, just try. Fangirl over what you wanna fangirl about! Post it on your IG and all your other socials. A rather horrifying realization is that no matter what you do, someone's gonna take a dunk at ya. Worse, you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily. It's okay (not really but... if it happens, it happens ). Even if you're used to it, it will still get to you but maybe less and less through time. When the voice of apprehension guides you to retaliate in the most painful way you know, just keep the fear at bay and be strong to not let that urge take over your words and actions. Be frustrated! It's fine! And I really don't support self-harm so please don't misunderstand when I say that when it comes to fear and insecurity, there's a lot you have to take on yourself so you don't hurt others. A lot to unpack between you and your brain. There are people who can love you without patronizing you and those you can trust to reign you in when you lose better judgment. Be honest and let them in.

Have that conversation.

//

Extras:

- AH! But I got to say this cause I also saw a post that said "if you haven't ran 50 to 100 miles, you don't know what a hard run is" wow. Fuck that guy. Actually, don't. He's probably not a fun date.

- this: "you can be intentionally approached and engaged for that purpose primarily" is from experience. An extra worse thing is to be vilified for retaliating. Like...was I just supposed to sit there and take it?

- I used to not like motivational quotes! I mean, I'm alright with them now for sure! We were talking about them and I was asked "What's wrong with properly credited borrowed words? You use them all the time since you like referencing songs." and it was like a tunnel of light appeared before me! Sorry for those whose post I've frowned at! I had an angst phase! I am very genuinely sorry 🙏🏻

#personal #self indulgent #insecurities #word wall #writing #opinions and commentary #fuck gatekeeping

[chelsfic]

Hunter’s Heart - Din Djarin x OFC - Mandalorian Fanfic

Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Summary: Instead of finding a child the Mandalorian discovers his quarry is a young woman. The girl has been held captive and abused and she claims not to know why she’s being sought by every bounty hunter in the galaxy. Din knows she’s lying but for the first time he can remember he feels doubt about finishing a job.  

A/N: If you get major Firefly vibes from this plot, that’s because I am definitely flashing back to my Jayne/River shipping days as I write this. I love that Din is the fierce, strong bounty hunter who’s secretly soft and I just couldn’t get the idea of being one of his bounties out of my head. So here we are… If you like this fic and you’d like to be tagged in it just let me know!

Warnings: Mentions past non-con

Rating: General for now

***

The Mandalorian freezes as he takes in the image before him. He’d been expecting maybe a grizzled ex-warlord or a hardened syndicate criminal. Instead the quarry that’s caused all of this grief appears to be a…girl. A young woman. It’s difficult to judge her age. She’s slight, thin, weak-looking. She’s been chained to a wall and, if the bruises and abrasions on her skin are any indication, clearly abused. In all his years of hunting, Din has never felt a moment’s hesitation or a second’s doubt about his actions. He takes in criminals, they do their time, take their punishment, and he gets paid. He’s a necessary link in the chain. Not good. Not bad. Necessary.

Today he pauses.

The droid doesn’t.

The IG unit raises its blaster arm to take aim at the girl who is visibly quaking in fear. Din has no qualms shooting the droid. Killing isn’t part of the arrangement he made with the client. Alive. He is bringing this bounty in alive.

The droid drops to the floor, smoke rising from the hole in its central processor made by Din’s blaster. He watches the girl flinch at the sound of impact, but she doesn’t look up. Her face is pointed away from him and she’s huddling into the wall as if hoping to somehow fade into the plaster and avoid notice. The muscles in her shoulders and arms twitch as she crouches there, hugging herself and purposely not looking at the intimidating bounty hunter.

Din is momentarily at a loss for words. Normally this would be the point where he addresses the quarry by name, confirms the bounty and locks them in a pair of binders. But he doesn’t know this girl’s name, or why exactly there’s a price on her head, and she doesn’t look like she can stand let alone try to escape from him. He clears his throat, a rare sign of discomfort that’s at least distorted by the helmet.

“Can you get up?” he asks. It’s uncharacteristic. He should command her to get up and come quietly.

The chains rattle as the girl shakes her head furiously and curls into herself even more. He’s encountered plenty of fear in his career as a bounty hunter. It comes with the job title. But he’s never been…bothered by it before. This job really is cursed. Something just isn’t right here. Why do they want this harmless looking woman?

Din steps forward, kneeling down to get a look at her face through the tinted visor of his helmet.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out as if to grasp her shoulder before thinking better of it and letting his gloved hand drop, “I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason to, okay? But you have to come with me now.”

She blinks and he watches as fat tears spill over her cheeks. A string of expletives march through his thoughts but he stays silent and watches her in a way he knows people find unnerving. The girl looks up at him, not quite succeeding in meeting his gaze but getting it close enough. She inhales shakily before speaking in a voice cracked from disuse, “Where are we going?”

Din nearly sighs in relief and reaches out to begin working on her chains as he replies, “Back to my ship.”

The girl still looks wary but she rises on shaky legs and holds her hands out for him to cut through the chains with one of his tools. He wonders if she realizes who and what he is. If she even knows that there’s a price on her head. He can’t believe he’s letting this girl’s looks get to him like this. He’s seen plenty of bounties who looked the part of the innocent. What is different about this one?

As the chains fall away he makes up his mind to be more practical. He takes a pair of binders from his utility belt and watches as the girl shrinks from him with a look of dread on her face. 

“No, no, please… No more restraints!” her eyes dart wildly around the room like a spooked animal. He wonders how long she’s spent in chains.

Din grabs a wrist and pulls her in until he’s leaning into her personal space and the girl is visibly cringing away from him. 

“If I leave you unbound are you going to come quietly? No escapes. No running.”

She twists her arm attempting to dislodge his grip. The Mandalorian tightens his fingers just enough to hint at pain without actually causing her any injury. Seeing the futility of the effort she gives up and nods in defeat. 

“I won’t run away,” she whispers, her head hangs down in submission. “I just don’t want anything else around my wrists.”

He releases his grip and watches as she gingerly rubs each wrist. They’re red and raw from the tight chains. Din feels a flash of guilt that’s entirely ridiculous. He quickly squelches it as he starts to make mental calculations for their extraction plan. It’s a long trek back to the Razor’s Crest and the girl doesn’t have any shoes. He looks her up and down and she shivers under the impenetrable tinted gaze of his visor. She’s dressed in a threadbare beige tunic and dirty leggings. No jacket either. 

Din sighs and turns toward the blasted doorway, motioning her to follow, “Come on.”

Outside the courtyard of the compound is littered in bodies. Din eyes each form, sizing them up until he finds a little guy who’s close enough to the girl’s proportions. He bends over him and dispassionately strips the brown tactical jacket from his shoulders, tossing it in the girl’s direction, and then tugs the shoes from his feet.

“Put these on,” his voice is entirely unreadable thanks to the voice modulator.

The girl looks up at him with wide eyes and a doubtful expression. She picks up the jacket, holding it at length between two fingers and wrinkles her nose at it, “There’s blood on this…”

The Mandalorian just stares at her for a long moment completely motionless before he finally states, “Beggars can’t be choosers. Put it on. And the shoes. We have a long walk to my ship.”

She tugs the boots on first and is surprised by how well they fit. They’re not the most comfortable, especially without socks, but her feet have already started to burn on the sun-scorched packed earth of the courtyard. She glances up at the bounty hunter with a look of gratitude that may as well have been aimed at a rock for all the reaction she gets. She straightens and pulls the jacket on over her shoulders with a look of distaste but she’s at least glad for the protection from the harsh sun. 

“Let’s move,” Din commands, striding ahead of her and expecting her complete obedience. He’s not worried about keeping her in his sight. Her short legs and weak condition would make it too simple to catch her if she decides to run.

***

They’ve been walking for about an hour when the Mandalorian stops suddenly and she sees his helmet slowly swivel to the side as he takes in their surroundings. She can’t see his expression but his sudden tension is telegraphed by his wary stance and she freezes in place behind him, holding her breath in sudden fear.

The form springs out at him from a shadowy crevice in the canyon wall, leaping from above and immediately engaging in combat while two others appear from nowhere and surround him. The girl drops to the dirt at the first sign of conflict and starts frantically shuffling away from the danger, taking refuge behind a boulder. She watches as her captor takes on all three bounty hunters with efficient, powerful movements that make it clear that even three Trandoshans are no match for one Mandalorian warrior. He takes them down one at a time until there’s only one desperate hunter left. The Trandoshan races toward her hiding place and she flinches with the familiar anticipation of pain but it never comes. Instead he’s vaporized by a shot from the Mandalorian’s rifle just before he comes within reach of her.

Din bends over his fallen foe and picks up the familiar looking tracking beacon. He feels a flare of annoyance with Greef Karga. How many damn beacons did he give out? He finds himself once again staring at the small woman cowering  beneath the canyon wall. Her long, brown hair is tied back from her face but he can tell it’s stringy with sweat and grime. Her thin arms are covered in bruises and cuts. Why does the client want her so badly? Who is she? What is she?

***

They keep walking as the sun falls in the sky. Din knows the girl is getting tired. Every now and then she stumbles and has to catch herself to stay upright. It’s nearly nightfall when they come upon a small watering hole with some decent sized rocks for cover. When the girl sees the water she skips ahead, clearly relieved and thirsty. 

“Wait!” Din commands. He catches up to her with his measured, unhurried strides. The girl is standing at the edge of the water and looking up at him with an almost pleading expression. “We have to test the water first to make sure it’s potable.”

She nods her head at his sensible words and waits as he dips a small device into the water and watches the display. A small light turns green and the Mandalorian nods wordlessly at her. She falls to her knees and dips her hands in the water, cupping them and drinking. The sun has warmed the water but it’s clean and refreshing and she nearly moans in relief as she drinks her fill. When she’s had enough she dunks her whole head, scrubbing her face and running her fingers through her dirty hair. She can’t remember the last time she’s been allowed to use a refresher to bathe but this feels positively luxurious. When she’s through washing her face and arms she sits back and notices the Mandalorian just standing over her. 

The soulless helmet stares back at her and she feels a shiver run down her spine. She’d seen the way he incapacitated those other hunters in the canyon. He’s strong and deadly and he is now in charge of her fate. She‘s frightened of angering him but she feels the words bubble up to her lips anyway, “Aren’t you going to have some water?”

He lets an unnerving moment of silence pass before answering, “No.”

The girl’s brow furrows in confusion at his answer. They’ve been walking through the desert for hours, he must be thirsty…

“Aren’t you thirsty?”

“I can’t remove my helmet in front of another living being,” his voice comes out irritated and she feels herself subconsciously flinch away as if expecting to be hit for her insolence. Din doesn’t miss the reaction and he sighs wearily, “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

She’s silent for a while, contemplating his words. He has not hurt her or shown any sign that he wishes to…but it must be an act, surely? She can’t remember a time before fear and pain and captivity. She’s never met a person who didn’t wish to harm her in some way to get her to do what they wanted. She keeps a watchful gaze on the bounty hunter as he settles down on the ground and leans his back up against a boulder. She can’t read anything from his mask and that frightens her more than anything. She can always tell when one of her jailers is about to strike out at her and she’s able to prepare herself for the blow. But this man is a mystery.

It’s been so long since she’s been allowed to speak, though. Now that she’s started the words keep coming.

“Why can’t you take off your helmet?”

“I’m a Mandalorian,” he explains simply. “It is the way.”

Din notices the blank look on the girl’s face and asks, “Don’t you know about Mandalorians?”

A blush creeps up her cheeks as if she’s embarrassed by her ignorance. She shakes her head in response.

“We don’t remove our armor in front of anyone. It’s part of our religion.”

“Oh,” she answers quietly. As the sun dips lower toward the horizon she can feel the temperature dropping and she’s grateful for the baggy jacket that she pulls tighter to her body. The Mandalorian seems unaffected by anything: thirst, the temperature, the exertion of walking for miles without rest. But his voice is that of a normal man. And though she’s never been shown kindness by a man in her life, she can’t help the instinct to offer kindness when she can. “I’ll close my eyes.”

“What?” Din asks, startled from his own musings.

The girl takes a breath for courage and repeats herself more clearly, “I’ll close my eyes. I promise I won’t look. So you can have some water. You must be thirsty.”

Din narrows his eyes behind the visor and regards her with suspicion. He’s been contemplating the likelihood that her innocence is all an act. Who in the galaxy has never heard of a Mandalorian? He shakes his head at her, “I don’t trust you.”

The girl looks puzzled, “But…you’re the kidnapper. I don’t trust you!”

“What are you talking about?” he demands in annoyance, clenching his fists in the dirt beside him. “I’m a bounty hunter. I’ve collected you because you are a fugitive. And fugitives…are not trustworthy.”

“I haven’t done any crime,” she answers quietly. She shrinks down into herself as if his words are shameful to her. He supposes they would be shameful…to an innocent person. Which she is not.

“I’ve heard that one before,” he says with finality and turns pointedly away from her to end the discussion.

But his throat is almost unbearably dry and his tongue is heavy and swollen with thirst. What an idiot.

“Come here,” he says gruffly. He walks over to her and grabs her roughly by the arm before she has a chance to stand on her own. He half drags her back to the water and forces her down on her knees beside him. He wraps an arm around her head and holds his gloved hand over her eyes tightly, almost painfully. “I’m going to take off my helmet and drink. If you move, if you struggle, if you try to break away from me….I’ll kill you. Understand?”

She starts to nod before she remembers herself and keeps still.

“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “I understand.”

With one arm holding the girl to his side and covering her eyes, Din proceeds to awkwardly remove his helmet with one hand. He breathes rapidly with nervous tension. He’s never been so close to another living being with his helmet off before. But the girl is right. He’s desperately thirsty. He sets the beskar helmet down in the dust beside him and takes a second to breathe in the chill evening air. His dark hair is damp with sweat and messy, sticking up chaotically around his head. His forehead is slick with sweat. He moves his hand upward and tugs at the finger of his glove with his teeth, pulling it off and letting it drop to the ground. His hand plunges into the water and he begins to drink. 

The girl is boneless in his grip, too terrified to move an inch. She lets her body move with his as he bends down to reach the water and then up again to drink from his hand. His armor digs into her back uncomfortably but she stays quiet. She’s never been so close to a man like this without the expectation of violence or…other things. She tries to calm her nerves by taking deep breaths and imagining that she has a different life. This is an exercise with which she’s very familiar. When the guards seek her out in the dark hours and assault her with their disgusting, foul breath and clumsy touches…she imagines she’s someplace else with a friend or even a lover. The dreams help her to stay sane. Now she imagines she is with someone who loves her and his arm around her is not a restraint but an embrace. The thought calms her and she’s able to forget that he’d threatened to kill her a moment ago.

When he’s finished and his helmet and glove are safely in place he lets her go. The girl scoots away from him and hugs herself. The temperature has dropped and she’s starting to shiver even with the jacket. 

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says simply before moving back to his place by the rock. She follows him, settling down a few feet away and curling into a ball for warmth. 

Din starts working on his damaged chest plate as night falls in earnest. He catches sight of the girl shivering in the corner of his eye and he once again feels the unwelcome clench of guilt. He pushes it aside angrily and focuses on his work. She might not be the type of criminal he’s used to capturing but she hasn’t been completely truthful with him either. There’s no way this girl doesn’t know why she’s being hunted. 

“Why does my client want you if you didn’t commit a crime?” he demands abruptly.

The girl holds her hands out, palms up in a gesture that could mean uncertainty or surrender. But she doesn’t answer for a long time and when she does the words are hollow with the lie, “I don’t know.”

When the Mandalorian doesn’t deign to respond she goes back to huddling for warmth. She feels the mistrust and anger roll off of him in waves before she can block them out. The lie leaves a sour taste in her mouth but she learned a long time ago that to tell the truth about what she is–what they made her into–always leads to disaster. She’s nodding into a fitful doze when she feels something soft settle around her shoulders and she looks up to see the Mandalorian already walking back to sit in his spot across from her. She reaches up to pull the thick fabric of the bounty hunter’s cloak around her shoulders. It’s surprisingly warm and she feels a rush of gratitude toward him despite everything.

“Thank you,” she whispers. The Mandalorian nods minutely and goes back to his work.

The nameless girl lays down on the soil, wrapped in her captor’s cloak and feels her eyes finally close. She drifts off into a sleep uninterrupted by terror or pain for the first time since before she can remember.

#the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian x oc #mando x oc #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x oc #din djarin #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian #mando #chelsfic