#i mean the entire chap was marvelous but

[passion-lasagna]

So grateful for the new chap (also very obsessed over this one scene)

#fan art #harry potter #tomarry #maymarlow #the train to nowhere #absolutely losed my shit when i read this part #i mean the entire chap was marvelous but #i suck up Tom being possessive like a dying plant

[skylarstark4826]

Shuri’s entire body was screaming with pain. Even though she had shouldered through pulling herself from the spear, she was still dizzy from all of the hits she’d taken and how hard she cracked into the ground. But then again, that was likely a bit lighter than what she had done to the man at her feet. The man who was looking up at her as if he’d never seen her before, or saw her in a new light. Either that or he was truly dying from the lack of water like a beached fish, and it was up to Shuri to drag him into it. He seemed to be in no position to do so, not with his scorched back, and certainly not with whatever was going through his mind at that moment. 

Leaning down, she hesitated to touch him. Touching him outside of causing harm seemed so. . .foreign. And yet she had to grasp him to pull him to the shoreline. 

Crouching beside him, she set a knee into the sand and looked over his body for a moment, judging the best place to grab him. A strong hand rests against her thigh, causing her to look down sharply at it before narrowing her eyes at the man it belonged to. “Namor. Just because I have spared your life doesn’t mean you can go and touch me wherever you’d like.” She huffed, grabbing his wrist delicately and lifting it to loop around her shoulders instead. He gave a wheezing laugh at her words, lifting his other arm as she guided it around her shoulders as well. Slowly her arms wrapped around his torso, careful of the burns on his back even though he hissed anyway. 

Slowly pushing off to stand, she groaned a bit with how it seemed that he wasn’t willing to help her out. But she hears the sand scuff below and he manages to brace himself on his feet, still leaning heavily into her. His dark hair caked with sand sticking to sea salt soaked locks brushed against her cheek, tickling her face. It drew a little noise from her throat as she dipped her hands to grasp his hips, adjusting him again before wrapping her arms around him again. It almost felt like an embrace with the way his arms seemed set on remaining around her shoulders, with how his chest pressed to hers and she can feel how warm he is. The combination of the heat chamber, the desert, the explosion, the exertion. . .he was like a space heater. Part of Shuri wanted to shut her eyes and just lean into it, let the heat melt the ache in her body away. 

But he needed water, and this was the least she could do. 

“Can you walk at all?” She asked, met with only a grunt. “That didn’t answer my--nevermind. I can carry you.” She bit her lower lip as she adjusted a third time, this time leaning and sweeping the man’s legs from the ground at the knee. A much louder noise left him at that, obviously not used to being carried as he held just a bit tighter to her. His face remained away from her own, as if he were hiding, but Shuri couldn’t focus on that. Instead she gathered herself to keep balance, starting to carry the man towards the water lapping at the sands in front of them. It shouldn’t feel like miles away, but her body is exhausted and he was heavy. “What have you been eating? My gods.” 

“You’ve had food from us.” His voice is raspy, and Shuri had to quickly look at him to make sure he wasn’t dying so soon. “I eat what my people eat.” He’s speaking, but she’s transfixed on his face so close to her own. His lashes were longer than she thought a man’s could be, his septum piercing decorated with slight designs she never noticed from afar, and even though his lips were chapped from the sand, she had a feeling they were soft otherwise. His eyes were dark when they lifted to fix onto hers; despite his weakened state, there was still something formidable behind those eyes. Serious, maybe, but she wasn’t afraid of him and nor he, her. A mutual understanding, maybe, an understanding born from trying to kill each other. 

His fingers curl into the nape of her neck and he gives another soft wheeze, prompting Shuri to try and move just a bit faster for him. “I was expecting you to kill me.” His voice is soft, she’s lucky to hear by virtue of being close to him. 

“I almost did. I wanted to.” She admitted quietly, watching his lashes flutter shut for a moment. “Namor. Keep your eyes open.” They reopen, fixating on her face again. “Good boy.” That earns another wheeze from him, a cross between shock and amusement as she smiles in turn. Looking back to the shore that was thankfully much closer than it was before, she did her best to do as fast of a stumble jog as she could manage, though it caused white hot pain to shoot up her spine, almost making her drop him. Forced to reduce back to the careful steps from before, she feels him fix himself slightly in her arms as the crash of the waves get louder. 

“Set me down.” His voice isn’t firm, but Shuri sets him on his feet anyway, looping his arm around her shoulders and wrapping her own around his waist. He can barely walk, his other hand moving instead to rest over her stomach as if that was helping anything. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, and he mumbled something unintelligible in turn. “Hey. We’re almost there, look--” Grasping him a bit tighter and holding him upright, she pushed him where the sand began to harden from moisture, though he was pulling her along with him. The waves graze his skin and he gasps like it’s the first breath he’s taken in a while; it’s her turn to be hauled along into the crashing waves. He lets her go once they’re ankle deep, diving in ahead of her and disappearing within the waves. 

Left alone, she can feel the weight and pain of everything start to settle in. Now that she didn’t have Namor to worry over, her body gave its own indications of pain that sent her lowering to her knees, watching the water lap at her bodysuit. It’s a tether to keep her from drowning in her pain, hand settling where she had been impaled. Honestly, the herb had caused the wound to close, but it still ached heavily. And it didn’t prevent her from being nearly exhausted from pain, especially from practically fighting for her life. 

The water’s laps are disrupted as hands curl under her arms, and Shuri looks up to watch Namor lift her like she were a doll, carrying her a few steps more into the sea before settling down, sitting her next to him the way they had sat beside each other what felt like forever ago. Down in Talokan, away from the world, before everything happened. Everything that likely could have been prevented. Her breathing is labored even though her healing was working through her, but regenerative healing couldn’t quite heal her heart. The guilt, the emptiness that anger left when it dropped with the spear. 

“Namor, I didn’t know Nakia was coming to get me. I didn’t know mother had sent her, and I didn’t know -- I didn’t know.” Admissions roll from her lips before she can stop it. “I wanted to save that woman, even if it had been lethal I wanted to save her so badly. Even if she had put a knife - it was - none of it should have happened the way it did.” A large hand rests on her cheek, thumb smearing over her upper lip and stealing the blood that had started to dry on her skin. 

“Shh.” He hushed her gently, voice nearly lost in the waves around them. “I know. It shouldn’t have happened this way.” Shuri had been correct, saying vengeance consumed them both. And it was killing their people. 

His hand doesn’t move from her cheek, and she finds herself leaning into it, eyes sliding closed. Her fingers lift from the water to curl around the beads, calling for air support to pick them up. But it would take a few moments, and she found herself wishing to stay in this moment for a little longer. Their own little world, the one that had been taken the first time by him being called away. Something about Namor’s presence, now that she was exhausted from anger’s departure, was a comfort. Even if he had been the cause of most of it. 

Namor’s other hand comes up to join the first in cupping her face, his forehead pressing against her own. He says nothing, he doesn’t need to. They both hurt each other in ways that would likely leave scars, which meant they were the perfect people to comfort each other into healing the open wounds to allow them to close. 

Shuri’s hands move to rest against the nape of his neck, breathing in the scent of the sea and the sand, nothing but salt around them. Opening her eyes slightly, she can see his lips look just as soft as she’d figure they’d be once he met the water. His chin lifts slightly and Shuri breathes a sigh before she leans in, confirming her suspicions that his lips would be soft. Water stained her mouth, facial hair rubbed against her smooth skin, the tip of her nose briefly bumping his piercing before he tipped his head to the side slightly, letting her nose brush against his skin instead. This lapse of judgment could later be blamed on the delirium brought by exhaustion, but kissing him was like shotgunning an energy drink. Her fingers curl into his wet hair and she didn’t care a single bit about it soaking through to her. In fact, she allowed the suit to melt from her hands so she could touch him fully. Hands pushing through dripping locks, nails lightly digging into his scalp before she was pulling him closer. 

Namor was just as affected by the share agreement of delirium brought by exhaustion. Hands grasp her firmly, pulling her into his lap and hungrily tasting her mouth. She refused to part her lips for his tongue, though he laid a petulant kitten lick to her closed lips, making her sigh and bite his lower lip in turn. A puppy nip, enough to briefly break skin but was covered by her lips once more, smearing his blood over both of their mouths. He liked that. He liked that a lot. More than a few other things could ever wish to do. Her bodysuit pressed designs against his bare chest, body soft under it despite the fact, fitting perfectly in his large hands. He skimmed one down to the small of her back, not brave enough to grope any lower but definitely letting his pinkie brush for the promise of it, causing a shiver to go up her spine before she settled against him again. A perfect mesh between two people more alike than they’d like to admit. 

Parting from each other with a gasp, Shuri refused to open her eyes and thus wasn’t privy to the way that Namor gazed at her like she was his own personal goddess. A woman who stamped him down, and then carried him to water after forcing him to submit. And no one ever achieved getting Namor to submit. Something about Shuri made all of it change; her determination, perhaps, or the knowledge that she too was struggling to keep herself afloat among clashing interests. Maybe the only good thing to come from the surface world forcing him to turn to Wakanda was that he got to meet the princess who lost everything. 

Drawing her in again, he pressed a much lighter kiss to her mouth to which she reciprocated, hands in his hair once more. This one was slower, though also briefer when interrupted by the noise of something above them. He could feel the gusts of inorganic wind disrupting the water around them, and he looked up to see a Wakandan ship lowering itself towards them. Looking back to Shuri, her eyes were open and directed away from him, almost embarrassed. 

Because, admittedly, she was. “Come on.” Refusing to let it stick, her gaze dragged back to his gorgeous face and he offered her a little smile, gently shifting her from his lap. Together they stepped towards the ship, and his large hands rested upon her hips to give unneeded help up, which she took anyway. If only because the soft pressure of his hold was more pleasant than it had any right to be. Honestly, he was more pleasant to be around than he had any right to be after everything that had happened. But foolishly, her heart was still drawn towards him, to his company. 

He stepped up to the other side and their hands connected where they held onto the ship for balance. His fingers part to allow hers to intertwine, holding fast as they left the sea for the air, leaving their own little world for their people. 

But at least there was an unspoken promise from their mutual delirium: they would be doing so again. Under a different excuse, under different circumstances. But they would meet again. 

#nashuri #namor x shuri #shuri x namor #namor and shuri #namor of talokan #shuri of wakanda #king namor #princess shuri #nashuri fanart #namor x shuri fanart #black panther #black panter wakanda forever #namor mcu #namuri

[edosianorchids901]

The Letter of the Law

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "The Letter"

Aziraphale never broke Heaven’s strictly written rules. And goodness, they did have so many rules. Destroy all hostiles on sight. Do not interfere with the Divine Plan. Exhibit the Joy of the Lord at all times.

At the moment, he was sitting in his gardener’s cottage at the Dowling residence, a glass of Talisker in one hand. A book levitated in front of him. And lying on the sofa with his head in Aziraphale’s lap, dozing under the gentle hair pets… Crowley.

All without breaking a single rule. Aziraphale stuck quite firmly to the letter of the law, as always.

Crowley was a demon, yes, and his adversary. But he wasn’t hostile, not in the slightest. There was certainly no need to destroy a being who was sleeping. He looked marvelously content, too—sunglasses off, his eyes closed, lips curved in a faint, sleepy smile.

And Aziraphale’s influence on Warlock was all perfectly allowed, too. Teaching the boy kindness and mercy, guiding him towards the light. As Crowley had pointed out, it was simply a matter of thwarting diabolical plans.

After all, how could an angel possibly interfere with the Divine Plan? The Plan was controlled by the Almighty, as was everything else. So influencing Warlock—and thwarting Crowley in the process—must be part of the Plan too.

With a soft hum, he stroked Crowley’s hair again. The demon’s eyes opened, golden slits shining up in the low light. “Mmmgff?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Smiling, Aziraphale smoothed the gorgeous red hair. “I just couldn’t resist this, I’m afraid.”

“S’ fine. Nice.” Crowley gave a sleepy, lopsided grin and stretched. “You look thoughtful. What’s up, angel?”

“Oh, I was being a bit thoughtful, I suppose.” Aziraphale took a drink of his scotch, then poured more for both of them via miracle. “Just thinking about how marvelous it is that I can enjoy all this while still exhibiting proper angelic behavior.”

“Really.” Crowley’s grin widened, eyes opening more as he grew curious. “Gonna have to explain that one to me, angel.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. It’s all about the letter of the law, you see.” Aziraphale recounted his previous thoughts, happy to be able to relate them to someone. Crowley was always so interesting to talk to.

Incredulity mingled with the amusement on Crowley’s face as Aziraphale spoke. He snorted and gestured to the scotch. “And how are you justifying that, angel? How’s getting drunk angelic?”

“Oh, that’s easy. That’s all part of having the Joy of the Lord. I must surround myself with things that make me joyful!” Aziraphale bent and kissed Crowley’s brow. “Which does include you, my dear.”

Crowley’s entire face flushed pink, and he hid his eyes behind one hand. But he was still smiling, although fighting it very admirably. “Gahhh, angel. You can’t say that kind of sappy stuff.”

Very joyful indeed, Aziraphale patted his shoulder. “Ah, dear chap. I’m afraid there’s no angelic prohibition against sappy comments, either, so you shall have to put up with it.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley

[orchardpunk]

I saved a life today. Well, not really. Or maybe I did, in that another cycle of time exists, whirling around the burst grape at universe' heart, where I acted. Where I smush the spider. .. Yes. This is about a spider. A baby whose desk-bound odessy one eye langoriously watched, enojoying a precious moment reprieve from the insistent boops, beeps and ding ding dings of an impatient employer's agent, the work laptop.

This little chap wandered, lapping up the sights and sounds of the big desk. Such sights as the marvellously humming obelisk, occasionally bursting to life with aforementioned boops. The astonishing drifting dunes of the tobacco wastes. The ginormous undulating green vessel, filled with slightly stinky old coffee and accompanying film. A journey fit for a king, nay a king among arachnids, a fitting first foray for a greenhorned (and green-fanged) adventurer. As well we all know, all good adventures must first start with a bang. Little did he know - or maybe he did, maybe familiarly if he lived in my fraying locks prior to this adventure - the biggeth, haired-but-only-selectively ape whose gaze bemusedly followed its progress. His wiggling exitable wee legs conveying across species the 'cor!', the 'wow' the 'WHAT THE F--' ahem. You get the gist. It was having fun. This little lad, so enthralled by life that he did not know, or did he, that he was moments from death. In another life. Or maybe the same life, lived by this giant vessel of meat but only a few years ago on the coil of said vessel's life. Had it been born sooner. If the little spider's parents had just gotten to the coitus a bit faster. I suppose, more accurately, if the last 1000 generations of its spider parents had gotten to the coitus a bit faster.

You see, the artist currently known as balding slightly extremely benign 27 year old, was previously a murderer. A spider slaughterer. An irredeemable brute.

That individual traversed a range of views prior to this point - justifying the deaths with disgust, with fear, more recently with misplaced rightous anger. That these tiny critters, that knew no better, dare enter its box room. It's box room, how very dare they, that they did not know was owned. Its box room that cost it £700/month (inc. bills) no less, that these aggregiously trespassing spiders in their gall had no concept of. The box that was its only slice of serene in a world entirely owned by megacorps and bastards, that these blasted, greedy spiders could roam around as they pleased. Is that self-rightious rotten reasoning similar to the brainrot inflicting our society? Wherein, those who fought in the past to establish their place, now think they can be the arbiter of access to newcomers seeking to fight for their own slice? To subject them to a quick crack with a wet towel for even considering they could share the warmth.

Fortunately, we're passed that spider smushing at least. The other day I ate a brand of grey meat and bread delivered to my door, and a giant common house spider stopped on its journey to sniff the acrid fumes. I screamed. The spider, jumped. Not at me in fight. Not away in flight. Jumped - as in, scared. As in, 'why did you do that you big daft bastard'. What a world. Terrifying biomechanical creatures with few, if any, external muscles and more eyes than any creature should rightly need.. can jump in fright. Scared of the big, loud monkey and his stinky meal that looks like meat but smells like plastic. For those concerned this means the author is only a recently reformed spider slayer - This is more an anecdote of an odd recent event. It's been a while since I hung up my spider-sized Jack the Ripper cosplay. Thankfully. But I suppose the thrust is, does not acting equate to saving a life, if the only thing the life is being saved from is the inaction of the prospective killer? Does it count as saving a life when Nestle, or Coke, doesn't pump all the groundwater out of a region and leave the local communities to croak on the dry air? Did that little lad even compute the sheer scope of the stupid monkey lazily eyeing it on its commute across the big desk? Does the spider have a better senses of perspective sans ego than said big stupid monkey, and wasn't so involved with such self centred thinking? Was it busy enjoying the act of acting in a universe where for billions of years it did not exist, therefore was in some way the absence of action incarnate?

If Mandela thought the clearest revalation of a society's soul was the treatment of its children, is the treatment of spiders in our homes a litmus test for the health of our smaller, individual souls? Did my soul grow three sizes that day, that day of days when the first spider wasn't slain? Will Nestle's soul swell fit to burst, the day it stops it's century-long tradition of murdering children through missold baby formula?

Are we becoming better people when we stop the previous par for the course act of inflicting harm? Or are we merely finally halting the degregation of our souls by stopping the stop-cock source of its erosion?

Was this all pointless?

Did I save a life?

Can you feel my shrug through the screen?

The spider came back as I finished. Hopefully he likes it here, and will stay to see more sights. Lord knows the local economy needs it.

Does he know he was written about? Or the writer’s heinous history? Maybe he’ll bite me as a sign. Spiders can't speak English, after all.

#spider #night writing #musings #friend #rambles #short story #creative writing

[tonyglowheart]

Western fandom be like “read xx danmei novel/its adaptations!” but then a lot of them don’t include links to the sources/how to support legally, and then turn around like “when will we get an EN release” :’)

#vent tag #this reminds me of this one tl'er I follow on twt #who tweeted about how on every chapter now they're going to obnoxiously remind at the top that it's originally a VIP/paid chapter #and that one Jade Rabbit tl'er is more lowkey but does have info at the end of their chaps linking to jjwxc & abt support the author #I mean by the time a new chapter drops I feel like I've basically seen the entire thing already through all of the reposts and rt's on twt #I mean in this vein... I also think some of the ppl on tumblr feel a bit more gatekeeper-y than ppl on twt #I feel like I see a LOT more links to weibo posts that new promo art and announcement come from #whereas on tumblr soooome of them might put it in the post ''source'' and that's slightly better #but some don't lol and it's just ''new art'' and like... okay ig..... #idk this is... kind of a new salt pile I'm sifting through still lol bc this is a new paradigm for me #I mean before I was in Marvel fandom and those b-tards are big lmfao so I guess I cared less abt MCU sourcing #mmm no I hated when ppl would post comics panels and not say what it's from. like.. c'mon now #lowkey I think some of the ppl from here repost from twt lol I see some of the same clips sometimes #.. whatever I guess I can't control what other people do I can't even set any desired ''guidelines'' for fandom bc I dont have the clout lol #anyway THIS IS A VENT POST I'm VENTING :')

[dabisqueen]

The Captured Pt.4

Shigaraki x Reader x Dabi

⇢ rating: 18+

⇢ word count: roughly 4.6K

⇢ plot: Being held hostage at the LOV HQ, you are Shigarakis "Spoils", but can't help falling for Dabi. This makes for a troublesome situation

⇢ warnings: 18+, noncon, rape, mean Shiggy, soft Dabi, blood, cum, creampie, smut, alcohol, force, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), orgasm, threatening of quirk use

⇢ NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!

personal note: uff, finally the ending. i tried pulling it all together, i hope you like doming shiggy just as much as I did. Enjoy! Awh… and soft fluff dabi <3 <3

Pt.3

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

Back in Shigaraki's room, he hurled me towards the bed, but I caught myself before falling onto the mattress and faced him. 

“Shigaraki stop, please listen to me!"

“Why should I?” He asked with a sharp throaty chuckle.

“What if I tell you that what you've had with me so far was only like the normal loot in one of  your games. What if I told you, I could show you what it feels like to get the epic one?” 

That got Shigaraki’s attention. He stood still, observing, red orbs glaring at me. 

“If I don't fulfill my promise, you can do whatever you want with me." I swallowed hard, “but if I do, I want you to let Dabi and I be.”

He cocked his head, a slim smirk forming in his face. Still mistrustful and a bit hesitant, he finally nodded, rasping “Ok, this better be interesting”

The room was dipped in dim blue light, the soft hum of the computer filled it as we stood there, unmoving. Between his pale tufts of white hair hanging into his face, I could see his narrow eyes were staring expectantly at me. He was tense, his hands curled into fists. His whole composure was one of an animal in a fight or flight situation.

I slowly stepped towards him, positioning myself directly in front of him, looking up. “Well,” I leaned in, tilting my head so that our lips were close to touching, “let's go get that magic loot then.” I could feel his hot breath on me, this time not as unpleasant as usual. I had gotten used to the damp linen and dust smell constantly engulfing him.

Raising my hands up to his face he flinched back, eyes darting like a deer in headlights. Kind of adorable I thought. As he didn't move, I slowly started running my fingers through his hair, pulling and tugging on it, watching him inhale through tensed lips, breath coming out in short ragged pumps. I tugged harder at his hair and he let out a small raspy whimper. The sound sent a jolt of tingling heat straight through my body and had my core tense up. I moved to cover his mouth with my soft lips and eagerly sucked up his sweet moans. It just took a second before he leaned into my kiss, his lips a bit dry and chapped, but I didnt mind. My tongue slid into his open mouth, finding his, circling it until I heard another raw groan escaping his throat. I pulled back, a string of silvery saliva connecting us as I stared into his already lust blown pupils. Kissing his jaw this time, I leaned in again, moving down to his neck, starting to suck that one special spot he kept picking and scratching so often. That made him throw his head back and let out a deep, gutural rasp of pleasure and I could feel his legs go weak. Releasing my lips with a plop, I marvelled at the dark bruise starting to form and let out a soft giggle. 

As he tilted his head towards me again, I could see a rosy hint spread across his usually pale face. Huh, cute, I thought and couldn't help a smile spreading across my face.

I took him by his wrist and led him on his bed, pushing him down so he rested his back on the sheets. He looked so frustratingly adorable, almost helpless under me. I positioned my legs to each of his sides, noticing he still had his fingers balled into fists. His breath hitched in his throat as I started tangling my fingers into his hair, tugging at those pale locks again. I bent down for another one of his sloppy yet deeply satisfying kisses and he didn't disappoint, instantly mouthing at me. 

Heat started to pool at my center as I ground against his quickly hardening length, sending shudders through his body. I sucked his lower lip, catching it with my teeth, nibbling and pulling on it. My actions had him whimpering and bucking his hips underneath me, and I noticed his enormous bulge straining against the fabric of his sweats.

I pulled back to grab the hem of his shirt but his hand caught mine with lightning reflexes, pinkie raised. He looked panicked, shaded gaze fixed on me, still panting. I tuttet at him, shaking my head "Nuh-uh." He winced but loosened his grab around my wrist and I continued to pull his shirt upwards, revealing the impressive musculature of his torso, littered with scars and marks. He lifted his chest up a bit so I could take the shirt off completely and then I pushed him back onto the bed. As he laid bare chested below me, I noticed the thin trail of pale tuff leading down his belly towards his pants and I couldn't keep myself from sliding my fingers over it, playing with its softness. He winced and drew out a ragged breath, still watching me, eyes dazed and elated. 

With my soft fingertips, I started mapping out every gash and scar that marked his skin, tracing them, feeling every ridge and wrinkle as his chest rose and fell with his tense breath. I bent forward, moved to pepper kisses down his pale neck. I bit him softly, licking over the marks with my tongue before sucking them into bruises. I continued littering his throat down to his chest with those marks as I slowly scooted down between his thighs to get a taste of the rest of him.

Opening the strings holding his sweats up I curled my fingers under their hem, pulling them down. His massive cock bobbed out, already hard and glistening with precum. My cunt started switching in anticipation when I took in the delicious view. Shigaraki helped me pull his pants off entirely and then he laid back in front of me, completely naked.

I lowered my lips and started tugging on his white curls, biting and nipping at it, then moving to the side and peppering his hips with soft lingering kisses and nibbles. I slid my tongue down towards his thigh leaving a wet trail, kissing and biting his skin softly on my way there. Biting harder, sucking bruises, I continued to pebble kisses and little nips everywhere as he kept wincing, eyes half-lidded, his hips stuttering and bucking. My soft cheeks were touching his strained length as I moved to lick all around his sensitive parts, always too close to touching him. I kept repeating it until he was a panting, sobbing mess below me. 

Finally showing some mercy, I wrapped my fingers slowly around his dick and heard him whimper as soon as I made contact. I marveled at the deliciously solid meat in my hand and applied pressure, having him buck into my hand immediately, his voice cracking. He looked absolutely hypnotized by now so I moved and hovered my mouth over his dick and slid my tongue out. The second it touched the slit of his tip he croaked out a desperate grunt, his eyes rolling back in his head. I licked the pre off, savouring the sweet, salty taste and then took his tip in my warm wet mouth, while he kept panting and groaning uncontrollably beneath me. Flicking my tongue over his sensitive tip, I slowly descended, trying to take as much of him in as possible. I hollowed my cheeks and started to move up and down, circling my tongue around its ridge, flicking it over the top and letting it slide across his length. I cherished the heated whimpers and moans that spilled from his mouth as I forced his dick deeper down, almost swallowing him until he hit the back of my throat. My jaw hurt from the stretch but I didn't care, this was just too delicious. 

I started increasing the pace, sucking hard and relentlessly as I noticed myself becoming more soaked by the second, the heat between my thighs now undeniably intense. Suddenly, his movements become erratic and his breathing forced. The way his cock switched in my mouth told me he was bout to cum. I pulled back instantly, releasing him with a plop and quickly squeezed the end of his cock where the head joined the shaft. He let out a painful moan, his teary red eyes shot at me, a mix of pain and fury in them, but I kept a hold on the squeeze until his dick no longer twitched. He let his head fall back, whimpered loudly, the come down had to be miserable. I gave him soft kisses of sympathy as I praised "Want a reward, Shigaraki?"

He nodded frantically and I extended my arm, slowly pressing two fingers to his lips and watched him open his mouth. He swallowed my fingers, sliding them against his wet hot tongue. He closed his lips on instinct, a deep groan leaving him, rumbling through my arm into my body. The empty look in his eyes and the way he sucked on my fingers were priceless. I kept moving my fingers in and out, watching the drool drip down the sides of his mouth and down his cheek. Pulling my fingers out, he whimpered at the loss but that was cut short, when our lips found each other again, his mouth opening, tongue searching for mine. I caught it between my lips and started sucking on it, bopping my head up and down until he helplessly groaned into my mouth.

“Do you wanna be inside me now, baby?" I purred into our kiss.

"Yes- please” a desperate raspy moan left his lips.

I slid my leg over to straddle him, planting my knees on either side of his hips. His eyes were glazed over, lips slightly parted. So adorable! He carefully gripped my plush hips, pinkie raised. My core, wet and warm, hovered just above his pulsating length as I started dragging my slick folds along his red swollen cock. I kept rocking my hips back and forth to feel more of that hot, delicious friction where our bodies met. Gazing up I noticed the priceless look on his face - blushing and shaking, biting his lip to hold himself together. 

As I stopped rutting, his misty eyes slowly met mine. I moved forward, positioning myself over him, my wet folds kissing his tip. Holding his gaze I leaned down, mere inches from his face, fingers laced into his hair as I slowly pushed back onto his dick. The second the tip started disappearing into my hot wet cunt he totally lost it. His whole body started to shudder, cock pulsating eagerly as he buried his hands in the sheets, dusting them in an instant. But neither of us cared.

The stretch in my core was immense, the pressure so intense, it had me wincing as I slid down his length. Even the slightest movement had him moaning, loud and shameless. It took a couple of ruts until he was fully inserted and I paused, letting me get accustomed to the pressure. I rolled my hips and he started whining, digging his fingers into my flesh, as he managed to press out with a trembling voice "Stop, 'mclose." I noticed him twitching violently inside me, so I stopped and waited. It took a few minutes for him to regain control, while I kept stroking his hair, giving him soft tender kisses of praise. When he finally gave me a hint of a nod I rocked a little in response. He groaned and his eyes rolled back, rasping whines mixed with sobs as I slowly started moving. 

“Oh, f- fu-..." Shigaraki was too out of it to finish the sentence.

His hair stuck sweatty to his forehead and his coarse lips were slightly open, glistening wetness in their corners. It made my whole body tingle with pure pleasure, seeing him so thoroughly broken down. His body ached as I came up and dropped back down hard on his length, letting him strike that one special spot inside me with his immense girth and making his face twist in pleasure. The stretch was almost too much, it had me panting soon, his ridge and veins constantly rubbing against that one special spot. The pleasure built in a steady crescendo as I moved faster, feeling my core tense up. 

“Fuck- oh fuck,” he hissed out with strangled moans, as I kept taking him in as deep as I could.

I increased the pace and suddenly he took over, grabbing my hips and fucking into me. My walls clenched around his length with every rut of his hips, my small cries building into loud heated moans. He let out a steady stream of needy whines and swears as he kept pounding his hips into mine. His breathing became hard, each push of his hips had me hurling towards an unknown edge. A white heat flared up inside I had never felt before. It kept increasing with an insane pressure that would soon have me exploding. My fingernails dug sharply into his shoulders, leaving red marks as he gasped at the feeling of it.

Keeping up that relentless pace, the pressure became unbearable, my core suddenly releasing all it's build up tightness in a mind-blinding high. I went rigid and all I could feel was pulsating white heat that left my mind blank. I threw my head back, a loud keen erupting from deep within as it hit me in waves and I spasmed, a clear liquid gushing out of me, splashing against Shigaraki's pelvis, abdomen and my thighs as he continued rutting into me. "Fuck..." he stuttered as I kept coming around him, gummy walls clenching around his length with every rut of his hips. He didn’t hold out long after that, red-faced as he shuddered, a primal groan escaping his throat and he spilled over, his hips sputtering as thick and hot loads of his release coated my insides. It was such a great relief it had him in tears, breathless sobs shaking his chest as he continued riding out his high. 

He sagged back, his garnet eyes glazed over, lust-drunken emptiness in his expression as he was panting, trying to catch his breath. His hands were curled into loose fists and he stared at the ceiling, cracked lips slightly parted. His pale skin had a deep red tint, his hair stuck in sweaty disheveled strands to his face and I couldn't help but grin at how fucked out he looked.

Absolutely spent, I slid off of him, feeling his still half-hard dick sliding out, his sweet release gushing onto him. I collapsed into bed right next to him and we laid there, shoulders touching as I tried to stop my heart from beating out of my chest. The silence between us was not heavy but comforting, mutual.

Shigarakis’s breathing eventually evened out, he was still staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, crimson pupils opium blown.

“That was-” his words slurred in exhaustion.

“Yeah.” I breathed, still struggling to get off my own high.

Neither of us spoke again.

Shigaraki eventually broke the silence, “Did you ever think about joining?” He moved his head to face me, his red eyes glowing intensely in the dark.

“Joining what?” I was kind of dumbfounded. 

“The League, Spoils.” he huffed annoyed, “I think you’d fit in well.” 

I jerked my head towards him, eyes wide with disbelief, “Seriously?!”

“Not gonna repeat myself.” He scoffed.

“Uhm... Yeah, I think that would be really awesome, Shigaraki.” 

“Call me Tomura.” he paused, “I... I could even get a quirk for you.” 

Totally speechless at his offer, I propped myself up, now staring bluntly at him. Silence settled between us as he stared back at the ceiling. 

“So, what about Dabi and me?” I prodded. 

“I might be a fucking menace, but no cheater. A deal is a deal.” he snapped exasperatedly, “you're off the hook.”

“Thank you, Tomura.” I smiled with honest happiness. 

I took in his sight. He still had a rosy hint tinting his usually pale skin, pupils still enlarged. I reached over, running my fingers through his hair, gently tuggin all the sweaty strands out of his face. He let me do it and I was able to get a closer look at him. Under all his scars, the chapped skin, he was really handsome. Fine facial features, slender nose, just the right curve of his lips and cheekbone. Strong yet delicate jawbones. At that moment, something about him had my chest fluttering unexpectedly. I stroked him along his cheek, bent over and kissed him one last time on his lips. Our eyes locked and a soft smile formed on my face as I said “Good night, Tomura.”

I slowly stood up, got dressed and turned towards the door. One last look over my shoulder I saw that Tomura had followed me with his gaze, the dim blue light outlining his undressed silhouette. A smile left my lips, one last moment with him and I left. Closing the door behind me I went to the bar and was greeted by a total mess. 

“What happened?” I clasped my hands in front of my mouth, chairs disheveled, tables topped over. Everyone was gone, except Toga. 

“It’s you!” she squealed with excitement, eyes lighting up at the sight of me. She had apparently waited for me, hopped over and greeted me with a “Missed you, Sis." As I still stared at the mess in front of me she gestured around “Oh, yeah, that. Well, after you left, Dabi went apeshit in here. And then took off.” She waved towards the exit, unnervingly close to my face with her knife, “Noone really cared to clean up after that scene. But I stayed, waiting for you to come back!” she beamed.

After a moment of silence she looked at me, sheepish grin in her face as she wiggled her eyebrows “I think Dabi likes you"

“No shit,” I recoiled, starting to clean up the mess, propping up the chairs and tables. 

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

Dabi didn't return that night, nor the next morning. Shigaraki couldn't care less, he just went about his usual business, although treating me with utmost respect after our last encounter. I was getting worried about Dabi so I asked Spinner and Kurogiri for their help. I was biting my nails in nervousness and every time Spinner returned through a warp hole and shook his head, my guts wrenched. It wasn't until nightfall, we were sitting at the bar, discussing what other place to look for him next as we heard a loud thump at the main entrance. Our heads flew around, eyes transfixed at the door, as it flung open and Dabi stood there, leaning lazily against the door frame. He let go of it, swaying, head hung down, hiding his beautiful face. He stumbled towards the bar, using the chairs and tables to keep himself from falling over. Spinner whistled amused but I slipped off the stool and rushed toward him just in time to catch him from falling over, huffing under his weight. 

He mumbled something, slurring, his heavy-lidded eyes searching for mine until our gazes met. Time came to a halt as we took each other in. Tears pooled in my eyes as he rested his head against my neck in an apologizing gesture. He reeked of whiskey, smoke, burned flesh and bones. It made me cry out loud even louder. A soft tug on my arm pulled me back to reality and, looking up between tears, I saw Spinner next to me, nudging his head towards the hallway. He wrapped his arm around Dabi and we both dragged him off to his room. 

Dabi slumped onto his bed and I turned around to thank Spinner, but he just shrugged it off and left. Dabi was sprawled out on the sheets, still fully clothed as I managed to get his shoes off. His black coat was not as easy to remove - with a little bit of his help, it finally fell to the floor with a heavy thumb. Dabi laid on his back, breathing heavily, eyes closed. I sat down next to him and started stroking his jet black hair, cupping his face. His eyes opened slightly and he looked at me. His sensual lips parted and he slurred out a “M'sorry...” as he leaned into my touch. I felt a tear run down my face as I leaned in to kiss him. His hand moved up to wipe it off, gently stroking my cheek. "C'mere," he pulled me towards him and I snuggled into him, ignoring the smell of burnt flesh that seeped through his own musky scent. I had been waiting for this the entire time, us, together, no hiding any more. He kept stroking my hair, placing gentle kisses on it as I enjoyed the feel of his skin and staples on my cheek. As we laid there, our heartbeats steadying, becoming one, I knew that this was my place to be. After a while, exhausted but happy, we both drifted into a warm, long overdue sleep. 

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

I awoke in the morning, Dabi's head nestled into my neck, his breathing regular. Enjoying the silence, I slowly stroked his hair, marveling at how soft it was, despite him almost never combing it. He inhaled with a yawn, stretched in my arms and nuzzled his head into my soft skin, mumbling a good morning into it. I cherished the feeling of his hot breath on me, his warm skin on mine. As he lifted his head to meet me for a kiss, tears welled in my eyes. He looked at me quizzingly, “What's up, doll face?“ propping himself up on his elbow. "You scared me,'' I whispered, lashes thick with tears, " I thought I'd never see you again." 

He chuckled lowly, kissing my chin, “Naa, won't get rid of me that easily." His hand moved up to wipe away the tears, cupping my face and stroking my skin with his thumb. We staid like this until I had calmed down, getting lost in each other's eyes. Eventually, he nuzzled back into my neck, inhaling my scent and kissing my pulse. "But-" his words soft and apologetic, “Should've stepped up for you much earlier. I was a shitty jerk." I shushed him, playing with his hair between my fingers. "It's ok. It will be better from now on. Tomura-" Dabi raised his head in surprise, "will leave us alone. I am not his Spoils anymore"

"How'd ya do that?" Honest surprise in his voice as he propped himself up again, his cerulean eyes staring into mine. 

"Secret-" I winked and he scoffed exaggeratedly, leaning forward to meet me in a deep kiss. “I'll find out sooner or later…" he whispered into the kiss. As our interactions were getting more heated, his hands moving towards my breasts, I pushed him back. 

"Let's go take a shower - this time you reek," I laughed softly and he smirked at me "Ok doll, but ya coming with." 

We got up and Dabi slid his fingers between mine and gave me one of his crooked smiles. It made my heart skip a beat and I couldn't suppress a wide grin in my face as we made our way towards the bathroom. We sensually undressed each other, hands roaming along each other's body, lips tugging, tongues groving. We barely made it underneath the shower, Dabi flipping on the water as he put his hands around my thighs and lifted me up with one strong jerk and manhandled me against the wall. As the water kept pouring over us like hot rain, our kisses intensified, tongues playing, lips nipping, mouths sucking, drinking in each other's moans. Our bodies were pressed against each other, fitting together like two parts of a whole, finally complete. The longing was so intense, we skipped the foreplay and he sheathed right into me, groaning loudly as I sank onto his length. He was rough, his grunts and hoarse growls made me shiver. Both pain and pleasure hit me at once as his thickness spread me open. The throb of his cock every time he bottomed out inside me was more than enough to have me see stars. He kept hitting that sensitive spot over and over again until my body was trembling in his arms. He stared up at me, deep insatiable hunger in his eyes, filled with fire, longing and passion. I felt myself hurl towards an orgasm at lightning speed with the pace he kept up. 

I moaned into his passionate kiss m’gonna cum and he groaned in response, burying his face into the crook of my neck. As I felt the tension reach its peak I let out a loud whail, closing my eyes as my walls clamped around him, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through me, having my mind fog over. Dabi's groans muffled by my skin as he sheathed balls deep into me one final time, shooting his sticky white load deep inside me. The water kept washing over us as we both panted, coming down from our high. Our lips met, kissing longingly as we whispered sweet words of affection into each other's mouths, endless strings of love you and mine and need you.

After we left the shower, dried ourselves and got dressed, he sat in his recliner, legs spread and palms resting on his crotch. He cocked his head, eyes half-lidded, a smug grin on his face. 

"So, babydoll, what'd ya do to have Shigaraki give up his Spoils?"

I smiled seductively as I stepped up to him, cupping his face in my hands, lips so close I could feel his breath on mine. I looked into his smoldering turquoise eyes, his smug grin still on his face as I lowered my lips to his ear and breathed out “I fucked that Sub senseless... “ 

I straightened up and saw that his grin was replaced by a blunt stare, eyes wide with disbelief. I strolled towards the door, glancing back at him over my shoulder. "Coming with me or just gonna sit there and keep on gawking…"

His perplexed expression changed into a wide smirk as he jumped up and sauntered over to me, hands in his pockets. He flung one arm around my shoulder, pulling me towards him, humming approvingly “Damn, babygirl, need to show me what you did to him. “ 

"Oh- tonight, tonight I will" I cood, tangling my fingers into his hair, bringing him in for another kiss as he chuckled, sliding his arms around my waist and pressing me to his body.

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

Thanks for reading!

@scruffymctee @sage-malf0y @undefined–person

#tohoeroki hime #dabi smut #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #yandere dabi #dabi my hero academia #shigaraki mha #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #boku no hero academia shigaraki #dabi touya #bnha touya #touya todoroki #touya smut #todoroki touya #dabi #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x dabi #shigaraki x you #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #dabi x you #dabi x me #toga himiko #tomura shigaraki #himiko toga #tomura smut

[bemylord]

truth or dare

peirings: kuroo x fem!reader x kenma.

warnings: smut, aged up, oral, gagging, threesome, nipples play, overstimulating, hint of poly relationship.

w/c: 1.9k

kuroo and kenma are your closest friends - both of them would help you out anytime or talk to your whenever you want it. both of them are happy to spend their evenings with you: they're needed for your relaxing body massage you once give them or you both prefer to watch anime. sometimes, you do the homework - the time where's kuroo yelling at you and kenma for being bad at the subject. although, if you're getting good grades at school, he still mad - you aren't good at his point. after studying, both of you would play a video game. now, kenma is the best player among you.

'how is that possible you don't know how to play? gosh, i'll show only once, i won't teach you forever, nerds'

quiet notes from kenma to you on how to win kuroo.

generally, they both are funny and good friends. one call to kuroo or kenma and he'll be around you, comforting his friend.

'till the moment kuroo propose to play a game, named truth or dare.

'it'd be fun, what do you think, y/n-chan?'

'i'm in!'

the thought it'd cheerfully and you'll have merrily game didn't last long. it was fun to a certain point in the game.

'truth or dare, kenma-kun?' asked vivaciously kuroo. he has been joining since he came up with

'truth'

'are you in love with someone?'

kenma is speechless, his eyes widened as he heard the question. he gulped, closing his eyes.

'seriously, in love?' kenma responded with a question, crossing arms on the chest, staring at his friend like he told a lewd thing.

'i mean that, give us an answer!'

'yes, i am' you covered your mouth with a hand, gazing at the blond one. the game started and you found out an interesting thing about kozume.

'who are they? do we know them?' you inquired, putting your hand on kenma's shoulder, rubbing it a cheerful way. kinda, you glad that your friend settled down by found a girl with whom he wants to be. although, why is he keeping it aside from you? aren't you friends with him?

'it's the second question, now i'm running. y/n-chan, truth or dare?'

'how rude you're, truth'

'the same question. do you love someone?'

you exhaled, musing about the question. the warm feeling born in your chest when you're with boys. you've never caught yourself at the thought you're in love with them. you love them as friends, maybe something more, but you aren't in love. it must be a wrong feeling.

'i don't know. it's just complicated, i've got feelings for.. for someone, but don't think i'm in love'

'are you hiding some information apart from me?' kuroo indignantly screamed, pointing at you. he moaned lingering, twisted his tongue, not looking at you. 'being in love it's awesome, why you both didn't tell me early, i-i' he interrupted himself, reflecting on the phrase he said.

'kuroo-san, truth or dare?'

'dare'

you're smiling sinisterly, rubbing your hands, guessing over the dare. it would humorously tell him to do something easy, so you're kept thinking about it whilst found acceptable dare.

'do a striptease for us'

it's entertaining to watch as his emotions changing from calm to frowning, in the eyes new emotion - mingled astonishment and stupefaction. knockout dare took him off guard - he didn't expect you would dare an obscene action like a strip.

'you will regret about it, y/n'

those eyes that expressed stupefaction transformed to the lustful and lascivious. there is no fear of unknowing what you'll dare next, there's lust and dissolute.

kuroo took his shirt off, exposing a pumped-up body - he has those fucking six-pack, not like a bodybuilder, but damn, his upper body literally saying: fuck me. he's coming closer to you with small steps, playing with his chest and abs using hands. you didn't notice how fast kuroo he put his knees between your legs, running his fingers on your shoulders to the neck, squeezing your narrow neck, pulling his face in your ear.

'you liked it, y/n, like my strip-' he did a little pause, licking your ear. the goosebumps are running over your body, as long as you're trying to avoid the familiar feeling. you closed your eyes, attempting his body. 'tease'

he moved away from you, back at his previous position, staring at kenma. his mand is hazy of the action kuroo did: was it real or he was guided by the dare. crafty type.

'kenma, truth or dare?' he's acting like it was nothing, like he didn't tease by half-muttering in your ear, which gave you goosebumps, and your breath was taken away. for credibility, he licked your earlobe, isn't it enough?

'since the game is getting hotter, dare, kuroo'

'show us the person you're in love with'

isn't the game hotter than a sun? on that point, is getting closer to that temperature. kenma stood up, staring at his teammate - some line is connecting them, binding them as some rivals for your attention. kenma sat behind you, put hands on your shoulders, breathed out on the back of your neck, make your knees go weak. 'she's sitting in front of you'

goosebumps are running over your body, breath stuck in your throat as kenma touched your shoulder with his warm palm, rubbing your skin gently. you exhaled, as kenma lingering on your neck, raises the chin up, blowing in your left ear, kissing it concurrently.

'and i'm kissing her'

you opened your mouth, not trying to resist, moisten chapped lips erstwhile were humidified due to the lip gloss. not trying to resist, when kuroo put your small hand on his six-pack; your hands are running over lumpy muscles whilst the blond one licking your collarbone. suddenly, you felt his hands under the shirt, denuding your breast to kuroo. you were up to close your legs, but the hand of the guy in front of you didn't allow it.

'you're so concupiscent, y/n. let us do the thing, baby girl. we'll treat you as your queen, your little girl' uttered kuroo, approaching his face on your nipple. 'can i?'

there must an answer, although everything you could do muttering indistinctly, feeling the unknowing sense down there. so marvelous, voluptuous, and vulnerable it is. kuroo barely touched your nipple with the tip as kenma slipped a hand into your shorts. you lay the back on kenma's chest, unconsciously spreading legs apart. outlining yet hard areola, kuroo lick it, biting just lightly the nipple. he has been enjoying it even more than you, receiving from two boys delight.

kenma pull aside your shorts, discovered you aren't wearing the panties. he snorted, rubbing an index finger on your folds. what could be more pleasant than this moment? the captain of a nekoma team is licking your nipples whilst the setter is playing with your pussy. you're lost in his caress: it seems there's no more air, no more feelings besides lust and desire.

kuroo pulls away from you, unzip his pants: a thick dick dropped in front of your face, covered in veins, the head is red from the pressure of your tiny body. the precum appears on the glans as you touched the hot cock, stroking with a hand from the tip 'till your little finger touches the pubis. you smear the drop of his semen with a tongue, lick the head, pull inside the wet mouth.

'you haven't seen something big as my cock, sweetie?' he giggled, thrust more in your warm, little mouth. you're sandwiched between two hot bodies, receiving and giving oral sex. abruptly, kenma make a fist of your hair, nudging your head deeper on kuroo's cock 'till your nose meets with the skin. you chocked, not having time for rest, in addition, kenma's abrupt push makes you gag even more. kenma entering his finger inside your tight pussy, still nudging you.

'get on the bed, baby' kuroo hoisted you up. somehow, you managed to stand on your fours, letting kuroo eating you out, giving kenma your face to fuck. maybe it's their smells, such as aphrodisiac; not paying attention to the pain in your throat due to their fat cocks, you're sucking blond's member whilst kuroo greedily licking out you, preparing for the cock. it seems it has been an eternity since you've been doing it, whereas it doesn't take longer than a quarter of the time.

'don't worry, sweetie, i'll be gentle, just relax'

you're practically been dripping under his face, yet when you felt the gland at the entrance you knew it won't be easy: kuroo won't stop till he goes into you entirely. you're getting lost as many times you came on the captain's tongue, perhaps two or three, nevertheless it hurts when he's attempting to pull his cock in. with a certain slosh kuroo went in your cunt deep, but slow, stopping his movements, giving you a couple of second to get used to the new feeling. new orgasm is building up as soon as kuroo asked you with a husky voice about your well-being.

'are you okay? i could pull it out if you're-'

'move, kuroo. you can'

tremendously soft and big concurrently, but his smug grin appears as he heard your order: it's maddening him to be inside you. gradually, the captain starts to increase the pace, as his balls slapping against your cunt.

kenma is blissful as never: he could only think about the godlike blowjob like this one. your tongue is running from the tip to the balls, gagging by it. tears start to fall down on your cheeks, leaving the wet trace, though you aren't stopping: you're a masochist if you're relishing something like that. you would answer: yes, i am, but your mouth is full by kenma's dick.

'i will cum in your mouth, can i, kitten?'

kenma is breathing heavily, scarcely would last longer, as you feel as his cock is twitching and getting hotter. you switched your mouth on his glans, sucking and stroking the base, helping to reach the high.

'me too, y/n, get ready for mine semen in your mouth too'

so fucking full of sperm you'll be in a few seconds. kuroo pulls his dick out, get out of bed, coming to the edge. using your hands, you're stroking theirs cocks waiting for the cum in your mouth to taste it. both of them came simultaneously, giving you their hot semen. feeling as your cunt twitching from the big dick, swallowing their semen.

how did it turn on? what happened? you didn't know exactly, you're happy that now you're cuddling and smooching your boys, exhausted from your first time. kuroo tenderly kissing the back of your neck, burying his face into your hair, pulling closer by your waist. kenma covers your face with quick but affectional kisses, interlacing your fingers.

you're happy and lucky cuddling with boys with the guys you love. but they love you even more.

'sleep kitten, we will be here when you open your eyes'

'stop talking she's sleeping!'

'don't scream she may wake up'

'and stop being so sweet i love her more than you do'

'no, i-'

you giggled, falling asleep to their quiet muttering of 'who loves you more'

//~~//

:3 i don't know, but i was listening to this playlist it gives some vibes lol. and sorry abt last words, i had a fit of tenderness :)

#kuroo x reader x kenma #kuroo x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu poly au #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo smut #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume smut #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #kuroo tetsurou #kenma kozume #kenma kozume scenarios #kuroo oneshot #kenma oneshot

[babybatscreationsv2]

Chikan

Marvel | Starker + Peter/OCs

The first time Peter gets groped on a crowded subway, it was completely unexpected. All the other times... well, let's just say he enjoys teasing old business men. The only thing that could make it better is if Tony Stark would notice. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

Warnings: initial romnoncon, old man kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness

The first time wasn't his fault. It was a hundred damn degrees in New York and the only way to survive was to dress light and stay out of the sun. Which meant wearing a small pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. He hadn't thought anything of it. After all, he'd never been sexually harassed before. It wasn't something he had ever thought to avoid.

So, crammed into a crowded morning train, Peter thought of his outfit other than that it was saving at least his legs from getting sweaty. His shirt was starting to cling to him. Someone brushed against his ass and there was no room in front of him to move without cramming his groin against the woman in front of him, therefore there was no where at all to move. He assumed it was an accident. Then it happened again. Just a light little touch. Then a firmer, more deliberate one.

Peter froze, mortified. The hand went away and he turned around to look. Behind him were several older business men, not one of them was younger than fifty. None of them looked at him and he had no way of knowing who it was. So he turned back around and tried to forget it ever happened. Until it happened again.

A rough hand palmed his ass, rubbing and squeezing. Fingers traced the bottom of his ass cheeks where they must have been sticking out of his shorts. The man behind him grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled him up. The material pulled up into his ass crack and he knew his full ass was out. His face heated, burning red. He didn't know why he didn't stop it. It would have been easy to whip around while that hand was still on his ass and see who it was and tell them off. But he liked it.

They rubbed and palmed and groped his ass. All the while Peter's mouth watered and his dick started to harden. A finger teased between his legs, touching him through the fabric. It felt unbelievably good.

He shifted, spreading his legs a bit. The man grew bolder, grabbing his crotch with his full hand, rubbing and squeezing him there too. Peter's legs shook. Then the train started to slow and the hand withdrew. Peter wanted to right his shorts, but he was so embarrassed that he couldn't even move. Not until the crowd began to push through the doors.

The second time it happened was entirely on purpose. Peter even went out and bought shorts in a thinner material so he could feel it better and he wore nothing underneath. He was nervous, but he hopped on the same morning train in the same car. He stood right in the middle holding on the strap above his head. It wasn't quite full yet so he hoped his groper would take the bait.

As people filled in, Peter didn't see any of the men from before. His heart sank with disappointment, but as the subway began to move, someone brushed his ass. He froze again. Then he relaxed. He tried to hide his smile. Someone else was interested.

He didn't think they were going to try again, but eventually they did, slowly growing bolder with each touch until they were palming his ass. Peter licked his licks. Fuck, he was addicted. They pulled their hand away and Peter risked looking behind them. They were all older, graying, business men, but different men than the last time. Some part of him wanted to turn around and beg to suck their cocks, but it scared to even think he could be that slutty.

He thought he had spooked the guy, but the hand came back, fully palming his ass. Peter wished he had something to rub his cock against. He was way harder than last time. Maybe because he could really feel the heat of that hand through the thin material.

A finger slid down his crack, rubbing when it found his hole. Peter moaned, biting the inside of his cheek in panic. He got a quick glance from the woman beside him, but she didn't bother to investigate.

When he rocked his hips against the finger, the man behind him must have realized that Peter was not an unwilling participant. He pressed closer to Peter's back until he could feel the heat of his hand. The smell of Barbasol filled his nose. He was gonna have to buy a can and start jerking off with the stuff.

The finger pushed, the tip of it slipped inside him. Peter's eyes went wide. He clamped a hand over his dick trying not to cum. He felt a breathy little laugh against his ear.

The hand withdrew and Peter let out a breath. He loved being touched, but he really didn't want to cum in his shorts. Yet, when the old man touched him again, he just spread his legs. He pulled Peter's shorts to one side and pushed his finger all the way in. It was slick, probably with spit, and it felt so fucking good. The finger pumped in and out. Then another pushed in.

Peter looked around him at all of the half-awake faces. No one knew that he was standing there, getting fingered, while they all dreamed of their morning coffees.

He felt the stubbly brush of a beard and chapped lips kissed the back of his neck. Peter bit down on the side of his hand, wishing he could scream, and he came in his shorts. The material was so thin that it leaked through, making a nasty stain. The man gave him another kiss, then left him alone. Peter covered the mess with his hand, face burning with embarrassment as he ran to the nearest shop to buy himself some new pants.

It became a regular thing. Peter started packing a change of clothes in a little drawstring bad. He kept wearing the tiny, thin, shorts and a thin t-shirt, every time he got on the subway. Hands touched and groped, usually staying on the out side of his shorts. Sometimes they didn't though and those were his favorite times.

This guy was feeling him up good, squeezing his ass cheeks to hard it might bruise. Then his hands went around to his front to palm his cock. Peter spread his legs and tried not to die on the spot because he was in fucking heaven. Then a second hand appeared, risky on a train. It slid up his abdomen and found his chest. Through his shirt then man rubbed his nipples. Peter could feel his hot, pervy, breath on his neck. He pressed his ass back, biting his lip when he felt his hard cock. He gave as good as he got, rubbing his ass against the man while he rubbed his cock and his nipples. When he pinched then hard, Peter thought he might faint. This couldn't be happening because it felt so fucking good.

Then the old man took the hand off his cock. Peter was disappointed for a moment only to stand shocked as he felt what was definitely a dick, rubbing against his ass. He rubbed it all over Peter's shorts, then slipped it between his legs, rubbing against his hole and his balls. Peter rocked his hips. He wanted him to cum on his thighs so bad. He squeezed them together, giving him something to fuck.

One hand held his hip while the other kept playing with his nipples. The old man slowly fucked his thighs. Peter felt him shake as he came, splattering mess all over his skin. He didn't play with his cock any more after that, just his nipples, leaving him hard and desperate when they left the train. Peter ran to the bathroom and jerked off in the stall using the stranger's cum for lube.

He had developed such a Pavlovian response to gray haired old men that even working in the lab was driving him insane. He's catch the subway, get so deliciously groped, change his clothes, and then turn up at SI only to rinse and repeat as he saw Tony.

If the man suspected anything, he said nothing, but he had to be aware of Peter's permanently red cheeks and how some days he came in with his nipples all hard under his shirt. There was one man who liked to play with them until they were raw and they ended up hard and sore all day. One time he forgot to change his shorts and he ended up sitting cum all day. He wondered if Tony could smell it.

He was always day dreaming about him. What Tony was one of the old men? What if he caught the subway one say and slipped in behind Peter and couldn't keep his hands to himself? That would be incredible. There was no way, though. Tony wasn't a pervert and he understood concepts like consent and personal boundaries. The problem was that Peter desperately wanted him to violate him.

Horny brains do horny things, though. Which meant that Peter was finding it increasingly difficult to remain professional. Especially on the days when he didn't cum. He had gone from gushing compliments to outright flirting. Flirting which was taking a very obvious and pointed turn.

"Have I mentioned that I love your hair?" Peter said one day.

Tony ran a hand through it. "It's getting pretty gray, huh? Bout time I had it dyed."

"No, I mean it. I think it's sexy."

"Sexy?"

"Yeah. You're kind of a silver fox."

"We'll I wasn't named Sexiest Man of the Year seven times for nothing." Tony winked at him.

Sometimes Peter caught himself staring. Especially when Tony got hands on, working in a tank-top with bend metal into shape. When Tony called him out, he panicked.

"Take a picture, kid," he teased.

"Uh, sorry. It's just uh..." he swallowed. "Your arms- I mean I- you're really strong Mr. Stark."

"All hard work, baby." He grinned.

Peter turned away and made himself look at something else. He couldn't be that oblivious could he? Not that Peter wanted Tony to know that he was hot for him. It would make things awkward.

Then came the day that Peter forgot to change his shorts when he really, really, needed to. Not only had he cum so hard that it had leaked through and there was cum very visible on the fabric, but there was a hand print on his ass from a guy smacking him as hard he could. A couple of people turned around at that one, but Peter had gotten good at hiding his reactions and no one said anything.

Tony looked him over, hands tucked in his pockets. Peter held eye contact only due to becoming a deer in the head lights and feeling physically unable to move as he realized why Tony was looking at him like that.

"What's up, Pete?" Tony popped his lips. Was he angry? He looked kind of angry.

"I uh... what's up with what, Mr. Stark?"

The look he got at that was even worse. "You keep coming in here, looking like sex, stinking like it too, and it's fine. I get it. Your in your twenties. You're young and horny and that's great, but we need to set a boundary here because you're making me insane."

Peter stared. "I'm making you insane?"

"Yeah. I don't know what orgy your going to that happens at six am every morning, but I do recommend reigning it in."

"Uh..."

"I was a party boy so I have no right to nag, but at least tell me you're getting tested."

The look he was getting was such an odd mixture of pain and concern that Peter couldn't help it when he blurted out, "I've been letting old men touch me on the subway-"

Tony blinked. Rapidly. "You... I'm sorry, you're doing what?"

"It wasn't my fault the first time," he babbled, trying to explain. "It was just really hot out and I was wearing short shorts and this guy started feeling me up, but I really liked it so I bought even shorter thinner shorts and now every morning a different guy touches me and sometimes I cum in my shorts and I make a mess and I usually change before I come inside- I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

There was silence for a moment. "Oh. Alright. That sounds-"

Peter's eyes stung with tears, but he kept rambling. "Bad. I know. Someone assaulted me on a train and I liked it because I'm sick and I'm horny for old men and I think I'm gonna throw up now."

He bolted, running for the bathroom. When he got there he heaved, but nothing came up. He sat on the floor, crying his eyes out. Obviously Mr. Stark would think he was gross or insane. Obviously that was the stupidest thing he had ever done and he could never take the subway again.

The bathroom door pushed slowly open. "Pete? You okay?"

Peter sniffled. "I'm fine. You don't have to come in here."

"Yeah, I do." Tony walked in and crouched beside him. He waited until Peter peeked at him from behind his knees. "There's nothing wrong with you. Yeah, its not good that people are touching you without asking first, but there's nothing wrong with you for liking it."

"Really?"

"Really. Come on. Let me make you a drink."

"It's like seven am."

"Sometimes you gotta day drink, kid."

They sat together while Peter sipped something strong and Tony had a coffee. They didn't say much or really anything. Once Peter was calm, it was like the whole thing had never happened. He went and changed his clothes and they got to work same as always.

Then the next morning, Peter got on the train. The first thing he noticed was a familiar cologne. The scent had his toes curling already. It must have been one of his regulars behind him. He closed his eyes, already excited as a hand palmed his ass. They felt him up good, with greedy handfuls, like they owned his ass. Peter pushed back for more. The hand slid down, feeling his thighs, then up to his chest to tease his nipples. A beard scraped his neck.

"Is this what you like?" Tony whispered in his ear. Peter froze. What was Tony doing here? Why was he touching him? Was he making fun of him?

"Don't worry, baby boy. I get it now. This is why you've been flirting. You wanted me to be the one touching you, hm? Is that it?"

Peter nodded.

"Dirty boy. I'm old enough to be your father."

Peter shivered. He looked around, but no one seemed to be listening.

Mr. Stark didn't have the same reservations the others did. He grabbed Peter's arm and forced the crowd to move aside so they could stand by the door. Peter faced out toward the full train while Tony was behind him. His hands rubbed his cock and palmed his ass. Peter's legs shook and he pressed kisses to his neck. He gasped as Tony's cock slipped between his legs.

"You feel that, baby? That's what you did to me. With your tiny little shorts." He grabbed the back of them and pulled them up so his ass was out and the material was tight against his cock.

"Your old men every put it inside you?"

Peter shook his head. "Well I'm going to." He whimpered.

"You want that don't you?"

Peter nodded. He squeaked, biting down on his lip when Tony pinched his nipple. "You gotta promise me something."

Peter nodded again. He'd do anything for Mr. Stark already, but now he was offering his cock for it. Nothing was off limits.

"No more strange old men. You want an old man to touch you then you call me, got it?"

Peter nodded his head. "Tell me, baby."

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Good boy."

His cock was slick with lube when it pressed against his hole. Peter pushed up on his toes and Tony pulled him back on it. It felt so big, forcing its way inside. Peter trembled, barely standing on his own. He couldn't help it when his body started to move, rolling his hips to fuck himself deeper.

"That's it, baby, good boy," Mr. Stark purred. "I'm gonna fill your little hole and you're not gonna change your shorts. Do you hear me?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's right. Your gonna let my cum drip out all over you. Let it dry on your skin. Your gonna be my nasty little cum dumpster today. You deserve it for not coming to me first. You let those other men touch you. But you're all mine now right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. Keep grinding on my dick. Make yourself cum in your little shorts like a dirty little boy."

Peter gripped the bar in front of him. He closed his eyes and hoped no one was looking at him. Tony fucked him slowly, barely moving, but it was enough. Getting fucked by an old man on the subway, even if that old man was someone he knew, was way too fucking hot. Tony's hand slipped down over the front of his shorts and Peter's eyes went wide. His hands clasped over his mouth. He groaned low in his throat trying to hold it in. The guy in front of his gave him an odd look, but decided to mind his own business.

"Good boy," Tony purred. Peter shivered all the way down to his toes. "Squeeze my cock, baby. Milk it."

Peter chewed his lip and his did his best to obey. Tony's stubble burned his skin as he ran his lips along the side of his neck. Didn't make a sound, but he gripped Peter tight as he came. Peter felt wet inside as he pulled out. They fixed their clothes and stood waiting for the train to stop.

The next day, there was a car out front of his apartment. No more subway. Just Tony, feeling him up and making him cum in his pants as they rolled through the busy morning traffic.

#marvel #starker #peter/oc #public s*x #old man k*nk #romnoncon

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

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

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

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

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

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

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #love this lady<3

[hyperfixationtimego]

hello babes I’m having Thoughts™️ unfortunately (this turned into fanfiction very quickly and I am So Very Sorry)

So listen. I think it’s fair to say that Kiyo is no stranger to sex and is able to distinguish it from intimacy. His Love Hotel scene shows us as much. BUT. but. I propose the query,,,,,,does the same hold true for kisses?

You can make the argument that Kiyo would be knowledgeable and well-versed on the subject of intercourse due to his fascination with human behavior, but there’s no real reason for him to engage in makeouts or simple kissing on the lips, right? I mean, what could he feasibly learn from it? Not to mention that it would require a removal of his mask, which isn’t going to sit too well with him, regardless of what he stands to benefit.

Therefore, my headcanon is this; Korekiyo Shinguji does not know how to kiss.

The only point of reference he has for it is his Sister, and, considering that she had the power and control in the relationship, it’s entirely possible to say that he never kissed her back, or if he tried, likely had difficulty doing so properly due to either subconsciously being afraid of her or, again subconsciously, simply not wanting to.

My point is, please imagine the first time he lets Kokichi pull down his mask. Pursing his red lipstick-stained lips into a line, more nervous than Ouma’s ever seen him, doing everything he can not to look Kokichi in the eye. It’s an unusual sensation, to have anybody staring at his face; he doesn’t like to be stared at. But, because it is Ouma, he tells himself that he does not mind.

When Ouma leans in, Korekiyo is caught off-guard, though does nothing to dissuade him. Instead, he allows the supreme leader to press their lips together, silently marveling at the slight pressure upon his mouth. He does not kiss back. He does not know how, doesn’t realize he’s supposed to.

When Kokichi pulls back, effectively breaking the spell, Shinguji can almost swear to have seen a flicker of disappointment within the supreme leader’s mauve gaze. His heart skips a beat. It wasn’t good. He wasn’t good enough. Kokichi Ouma does not love him anymore because of it.

But Kokichi never comments on it, adopting his typically-enthused pallor before coming up with some excuse to abscond, leaving Korekiyo there, breathless, shaking, and alone.

The second time he kisses someone aside from his abuser, he’s being pulled out of the rain by Kaito Momota. It wasn’t supposed to rain today- there were no reports that suggested it might- and the sudden downpour had incited the ultimate astronaut to grab at Kiyo’s hand and refuse to let go until the two are situated beneath the lip of the school’s roof, Korekiyo’s back pressed against the wall while the two of them work through their own heavy panting. The coverage is only partial, and Korekiyo is certain that Kaito is being drenched. It’s beautiful, the way Momota chuckles before shedding himself of his jacket, holding it over his head for protection.

They stay that way for what feels like eons, before Kaito blurts out a messy, stuttering, blushy, “can I kiss you?”

Korekiyo freezes. He cannot bring himself to deny the request.

Tugging the mask down - his signal to Kaito that he had their permission - the anthropologist closes their eyes and waits.

This kiss is rougher than Kokichi’s. There’s more force behind it, and Momota’s lips are chapped. Of course, that’s not to say it’s less pleasant - far from it, in fact. The way the two ultimates seem to breathe in sync with one another causes Korekiyo’s pulse to quicken.

And then, just like last time, the spell is broken. Kaito pulls away, a grimace of remorse plaguing his features. Korekiyo’s heart sinks.

“Heh. Sorry,” Momota mutters, a half-smile coercing itself upon his now lipstick-stained lips. Before Korekiyo is able to inquire about what is wrong, however, the astronaut has re-equipped his jacket and taken off.

Shinguji wonders if he is an embarrassment to be seen with.

———

It’s been days since Korekiyo has left his room.

Occasionally, Tojo will stop by to check on him, but he cannot be bothered to let her in.

He replays the kisses in his mind.

Twice, he reminds himself, the perpetrator of the kiss regretted their decision.

That cannot be a coincidence.

He doesn’t feel like facing them.

Call him a coward; he’d rather die than muddle through awkward hellos and pained glances and Kokichi’s inevitable attempts to brush off the fact that anything was wrong. He just…..he couldn’t do it.

Another knock on his door draws him out of his thoughts. Peculiar, he thinks, considering that Kirumi has already been by to check on him this morning.

“I’m busy,” he mutters towards the door, sending it a glare as though that will cow whoever stands upon the other side of it.

There is no response aside from the gentle click of a lock being picked.

Sitting up, his eyes widen amidst panic. No, no-

But, it’s too late.

The door swings open, and rushing in to greet him are none other than two faces - two beautiful faces - he doesn’t want to see.

Wrapping his arms around himself, nails digging into the unbandaged skin of his forearms - he hadn’t been bothering to cover himself up, as he had no intention of going anywhere aside from his room - tears begin to prickle at the narrowed flaxen gaze that flits towards the floor, refusing to acknowledge the two men before him.

He hasn’t cried over it. He has no right to.

So he doesn’t understand why his throat is closing and why his cheeks are wet and why, suddenly, he is hiccoughing as though he cannot breathe.

The bed dips beside him as Kokichi climbs up to rest his head upon the anthropologist’s shoulder, hugging him from the side. A weak sob lilts from his throat as he feels Kaito’s fingers intertwine with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, timbre wracked with whimpering gasps as the two attempt to hush him. He doesn’t understand why they’re here, why they would deign to bother with him when he is so clearly pathetic and unlovable and unworthy and- “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Hey, c’mon,” Kaito whispers, brushing his thumb against the masked student’s cheek, wiping away tear after tear. “Don’t you know a man shouldn’t apologize so easily?”

Perhaps it is because he is not a man, then, that the apologies wax so readily from his lips.

“What are you so upset about, anyway?” Kokichi mumbles, his words muffled by the fabric of Korekiyo’s uniform. “Nobody’s mad at you.”

“I-I-I-I-” he is near hyperventilating when Her words reverberate amidst his mind; You mustn’t stutter. You mustn’t lose composure.

Swallowing his pride, glimpsing from one boy to the other, he waves them off.

“It’s nothing,” he steels himself, the lie slipping past his teeth as though it were effortless. “I’m overreacting.”

Kaito blinks, his brows knitting together amidst concern, when Korekiyo feels Ouma flick his cheek.

“Can’t lie to a liar,” hums Kokichi, feigning nonchalance. “Better tells us soon before we go get Mr. Ultimate Detective to interrogate it out of you.”

His breathing steadies itself. He cannot meet either of their eyes.

Focusing on the presence of both men, a calming sensation begins to imbue his chest. The weight of Kokichi’s head against his shoulder, the feeling of Kaito’s thumb rubbing against his knuckles; it’s soothing enough for the anthropologist to ground himself.

“When you both kissed me,” he begins, exhaling it all amidst one sizable breath, regretting it nigh immediately as he winces against his own words. “I don’t- I didn’t- What was I supposed to do?”

Kokichi and Kaito proffer to him nothing more than eyes glazed over with confusion.

Momota purses his lips, stroking the anthropologist’s hair, encouraging him to steady his breathing.

“What’re ya talking about, Kiyo?” The astronaut presses, quirking a brow.

“Neither of you liked it. Was it just- was it me? I don’t- is it because- is it because you don’t like me?”

Both of the men freeze. They exchange a glance.

Kokichi bursts into laughter.

Kaito yells something obscene towards the supreme leader, though quickly calms himself. To the anthropologist, he proffers a swift, soothing smile.

“Kiyo,” he starts, lavender gaze alight with affection, caressing the long-haired student’s cheek. “I can’t exactly speak for ‘kichi over there, but….I mean, you didn’t seem super into it, y’know?”

“What?”

“Yep, can confirm,” Kokichi nods, glancing towards his nails as though they were of greater importance to him. “Didn’t even kiss me back. I mean, geeze, Kiyo; I know I’m not your type, but you could’ve at least let me down without getting my hopes up!”

“Getting your hopes up?” Korekiyo parrots, confusion etched into his features as he ponders the peculiar words. “But- I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- It was-”

Stop.

Take a breath.

“So I was….supposed to….kiss you back….?”

Kokichi rolls his eyes.

“Generally how kisses work, genius, yeah.”

“….Oh.”

Beat.

“I….didn’t know that.”

It’s a moment before either of them respond, but Korekiyo doesn’t miss the exchange of an elated, nigh-mischievous glance between the two. Kokichi stifles another snicker.

“Well,” Kaito muses, leaning in. “Guess it’s pretty lucky you’ve got us to practice on.”

#*sweats* this turned into fanfiction so fast and I couldn’t stop myself #also #*banging fists on the table* KIYO DESERVES TO HAVE GOOD THINGS HAPPEN TO HIM YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND ON THIS #if u wanna reblog this I’d appreciate it 🥺👉👈 #incest tw #<- for the mention of sister shinguji and her abuse #abuse tw #Korekiyo shinguji #Kokichi ouma #Kokichi oma #Kaito momota #momoguji #korekaito #kiyouma #shinouma #kiyoumota #fanfiction #prose #writing #danganronpa #fanfic #oumaguji #ndrv3 #new danganronpa v3 killing harmony #new danganronpa v3 #kissing #headcanon tag #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff

[fahye]

I had pre-ordered A Marvelous Light on Kobo a few months back and it became available to me on Dec 9 and you must have guessed by the fact that I'm writing this to you on Dec 11 that I binge-read your amazing, incredibly delightful, beautifully written and extremely evocative debut novel in 1 day!!!!! I don't even know how to phrase how much I loved this story, and Edwin and Robin and Adelaide (I'm a brown South Asian woman so thank you for her) and Mrs. Sutton and Edwin's mother and Robin's free-spirited sister Maud! This has got to be one of the most interesting takes on magic that I have read recently and I adored how you almost used magic as a metaphor for nature's energy that is so tangible in our world and that we misuse and abuse all the time! I loved that you created the character of Robin, the seemingly ordinary everyday chap with so much hidden depth and courage to be good and honest in spite of his upbringing! I loved that you gave Edwin a keen mind and the passion to work hard instead of giving him "natural talents" and subverted the "chosen one" trope and I think we need more glorification of good old fashioned hard work in literature! I like the way you have arranged all the narrative pieces of the plot in this first book and I absolutely cannot wait to read how their relationship develops and in what ways Robin's visions come true! I absolutely cannot thank you enough for writing this book because I cannot express how much unadulterated joy your words brought me! ❤️

P. S. Since I've been following you since you wrote your Captive prince stories, I couldn't help but notice the "Is that what we are?" line! It'll make my entire day of you confirm that I got that right 😂

this message means the world to me, thank you so much. the metaphor of magic as the responsibility we owe to the natural world is going to expand in a BIG WAY as the trilogy progresses (what's that? a millennial wrote a fantasy book and it somehow developed climate change anxiety?? WILD) so I hope it continues to delight you on that front.

(and hah, yes, you're the second person to mention that little homage!)

#a marvellous light #mnad96

[mari-writes]

🏐🖐❤️

Bokuto is… preoccupied with Akaashi’s hands. 

The entire Fukurodani boy’s volleyball team knows it, though they’re not exactly sure what to make of it. 

Bokuto talks about how long they are. How slender yet strong. When they first compare hands, palms held up flat against each other, he marvels, so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the younger teen’s cheeks turning pink.

He tells Akaashi to take care of them. Offers to help him stretch each of them before practice and matches, taking them in his own, slightly thicker fingers reverently, as if they were made of glass. 

Akaashi is helpless to refuse. He doesn’t want to turn down his star, or seem ungrateful. Secretly, he’s dying inside, feelings he is sure are unrequited bubbling to the surface every time skin meets skin. 

He knows Bokuto’s gestures are innocent in nature, even though sometimes they don’t look that way. He just hopes the rest of the team knows it.

(They don’t.)

Today, Bokuto finds Akaashi in a corner, bouncing up and down to get warm and fiddling with his fingers. Winter had started to creep up on them; the gym is cold and the heaters have not yet kicked in.

Bokuto reaches out immediately, and Akaashi flinches, but doesn’t pull away (of course not). “Akaashi! Your hands are like icicles!” He cries, sounding as if Akaashi was dying. “You won’t be able to set very well with cold hands!”

“I know, Bokuto-san, that’s why I’m—”

Akaashi breaks off as the other boy brings the digits up to his lips, delicately huffing warm air over the flesh. Calloused hands hold securely to Akaashi’s wrists as chapped (yet somehow, still very soft) lips graze his knuckles. 

Well. If Akaashi wasn’t warm before, he is now. His entire body is suddenly boiling. He sucks in a breath, praying his knees won’t give out. 

Akaashi can feel their teammates’ eyes on them and pointedly avoids turning in their direction. “Th-thank you, Bokuto-san. You don’t have to.” But Akaashi still doesn’t pull away. In fact, he doesn’t think he can at this point. 

“Of course I have to!” Bokuto grins, eyes squinting closed in that very specific way that charms Akaashi every time. “You’re my setter! I have to help you!”

Not “our” setter, Akaashi thinks, he said “my” setter. What does that mean? Is it just Bokuto’s naivety that keeps him from realize how that sounds, and his obvious preoccupation with his hands? Does he know what he’s doing to Akaashi right now, in front of their team?

“Ah, well, thank you.” Finally, he slips his fingers out from the cocoon of Bokuto’s warmth. “I appreciate it. But let’s get started on drills, okay? That will warm everyone up just fine.”

A small pout forms on the older boy’s mouth, just for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He nods. “Good idea, Akaashi! Let’s go!” 

It takes a few moments for Akaashi to recover. When he finally turns he finds Yuki nearby, looking half-smug, half exasperated. “Don’t,” he mutters to her dangerously, “don’t even start.”

A week later, the team is gathered in the club room for a small holiday party before winter break. Akaashi, who had only had time in his busy schedule to make a plate of cookies for his team to share, is surprised when a small package is tossed into his lap.

“Open it!” Bokuto demands, smile wide and bright. And how can Akaashi say no to that? Inside the hastily wrapped paper is a pair of midnight blue fingerless gloves.

“Your hands are always freezing,” Bokuto says, scooting so they’re seated shoulder-to-shoulder. Akaashi tries to ignore the thrill that shoots through his body at the contact. “These will keep them warm, even when you have to do homework or use your phone. You could even set with them, probably! At least during practice!”

Akaashi bites his lip, wiling himself to calm down. “They’re nice,” he says quietly, and dares a glance at the other boy. Bokuto’s golden eyes snap to his. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“Oi!” Konoha cries from the other side of the room. “Stop being all cute and cozy over there! Hurry, we’re about to cut the Christmas cake!”

Sighing, Akaashi pockets the gloves and stands. “Right.” He turns to Bokuto, who is still sitting. “C’mon,” he says, and with a strange surge of confidence, reaches out to help the other boy up. 

Bokuto looks at his hands, then up at Akaashi, his golden eyes shining with some sort of reverent wonder. Finally, he smiles and accepts.

Their hands linger, staying cupped in each other’s for a few moments before separating. 

Akaashi might be imagining things. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but it seemed like Bokuto was hesitant to let go.

He smiles. Maybe he'll find out someday. For now, he's content to wait. Meanwhile, he'll let Bokuto take care of his hands as much as he likes.

// The End

Thanks for reading! 🥰🙏 This was originally going to be funnier with a dose of suggestive themes but it turned super fluffy. Hope you enjoyed nonetheless! 

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #drabble #ficlet #haikyuu!! #fanfiction #my writing

[agentnico]

Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021) Review

It’s a shame that it took me this long to finally watch the new Spidey film thanks to me having to isolate for having COVID. Can call myself a survivor now though! However what isn’t a shame is that during isolation me and my fiancée marathon-rewatched all of the Sam Raimi Spider-Man trilogy as-well as the two Amazing ones (that aren’t really amazing), and we rewatched the Tom Holland ones a month ago, so we came into No Way Home as prepared as one humanly could be. So in fact, thank you COVID, for holding us back and forcing us to do our research first. 

Plot: With Spider-Man's identity now revealed, our friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is unmasked and no longer able to separate his normal life as Peter Parker from the high stakes of being a superhero. When Peter asks for help from Doctor Strange, the stakes become even more dangerous, forcing him to discover what it truly means to be Spider-Man.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe arguably had its most busiest year with releasing 4 movies and 5 Disney+ shows all in 2021. However in my opinion only a few of them were actually good, most notably WandaVision, What If? and Loki, though the latter was also heavily underwhelming. The Sony/Marvel Spidey films however always felt most disconnected from the rest of the MCU, mainly only by having characters like Iron Man and Nick Fury pop in and shed some wisdom or doubt. Also the Tom Holland Spidey films are kind of good, you know? Super enjoyable as a whole and it’s great seeing Holland develop this character with every new entry. However with No Way Home there was added anticipation in that it was Hollywood worst kept secret ever. As in, this movie suffered so many internet spoiler leaks (evening Reddit and Twitter!) that Sony actually ended up revealing certain ‘surprises’ in the trailers, so in this review I will only talk about things which happen in the movie that has already been revealed in the trailers, characters included, so if you have somehow managed till now to be devoid of any spoilers regarding this movie, which would be physically impossible since if you’re reading this it means you’re on social media and if you’re on social media then you’ve already been spoiled, so honestly following that deep mathematical formula deduction I could just go on ahead and spoil the entire movie, right? Well I’m not going to, cause I’m an all round good chap! 

Spider-Man: No Way Home is a culmination of three generation of Spider-Man movies, with villains coming back from movies that starred the Maguire and Garfield Spideys. Though I do wonder how many kids watching No Way Home would have actually seen the Maguire ones. There was this child who sat somewhere behind me in the cinema, and at one point a character from the Maguire Spidey films shows up, and the kid asked his father “who is that?” and I was this close to rising from the abode of my seat, turning around in the theatre and telling the kid “have some respect, that right there is a legend, son!” to which I would have welcomingly expected a punch to the face from the kid’s father, but at least the kid would have learnt that he just witnessed an on-screen legend. So anyway, we see the returns of villains like Dr Ock, Lizard and Sandman to name a few, and naturally seeing the actors that played them before return in this one is super nostalgic and most of them were all at their A-game, especially Willem Dafoe who returns as Green Goblin, who this time around I feel was even more menacing and evil than in the original Sam Raimi movie! Dafoe is truly horrifying in this one, and once again manages to make the split personality of Norman Osborn really believable and powerful. I will say though that Jamie Foxx’ return as Electro didn’t really work for me from both character and narrative issues. For one, Electro gets a make-over in this one as he is no longer blue anymore (though there is a reference to it in his first appearance), but also unlike in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 where Foxx plays Electro as a vulnerable and weak guy who’s been bullied all his life and even in his blue supervillain form feels unguarded and emotionally exposed, in No Way Home Electro comes off as Jamie Foxx playing Jamie Foxx. And the narrative plot hole comes in that the reason the villains show up in Holland’s universe is due to Doctor Strange messing up a spell, and as such people from all of the multiverse who know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man come crashing into our universe. Here’s the thing though, Electro never knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man. He knew of Spider-Man, but not Peter, and so why did he come breaking through the universe? Same goes for Tom Hardy’s Venom/Eddie Brock. He doesn’t know that Spider-Man was Peter Parker, so why did he break through the universe too? That right there, my friends, is a plot hole.

Naturally with the villains from other cinematic universes coming in as well as other surprises, No Way Home is as meta as a film can get. Honestly, with the amount of fan service in this, the movie does at times feel like pure fan fiction. And some of the fan service works really well, and surprisingly lends quite naturally with the film’s plot, however certain fan service definitely feels forced and unnecessary. Look, I wish I could go more into detail but that would mean going properly into spoilers, which I don’t wish to disclose. But as I said, some of the fan service works, some doesn’t. However even though the movie is a crowd pleaser, I did admire that it never strayed away from making this centrally a story about Tom Holland’s Spider-Man. This is his movie, and about his relationship with his best friends Ned (Jacob Batalon) and MJ (Zendaya), and his character growth from being a high school kid to an adult who has to make responsible choices and then deal with the consequences of those choices. At times this movie even goes to very dark emotional places, but I really enjoyed that aspect as it all worked towards fleshing out and progressing Peter Parker more as a character, and Tom Holland gives his best Spidey performance in here. 

No Way Home is a crowd pleaser if there ever was one, that has some good humour and jokes in there, and diehard fans of all the Spider-Man films will get a hoot from all the references and nods and surprises, with some of it working and some of it not so much. But this is interestingly enough more of a personal story for Peter Parker, since with all of this multiverse madness-spazzness happening around him, the movie is about him stepping up and embracing that cheesy line all Spider-Man fans know and love - “with great power comes great responsibility”. That being said, Into the Spider-Verse did it better, just saying.

Overall score: 8/10

#spider-man: no way home #spiderman #no way home #tom holland #zendaya #jon watts #willem dafoe #benedict cumberbatch #alfred molina #jamie foxx #jacob batalon #marvel #mcu #spiderman no way home #spider-man no way home review #no way home review #2021 in film #2021 films #2021 #movie #film #cinema #superhero #andrew garfield #marisa tomei #tobey maguire #jon favreau #charlie cox #jk simmons #thomas haden church

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (8)

Hello, hello, hello! Here’s chapter 8 after a long break since chapter 7! If you haven’t all ready, make sure you go check out the prologue to Sweet Home Alabama once you’re done here, as I may post the first chap very soon!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2178

Warnings: Some language? I can’t think of anything else

% approximately the 3rd week of October %

You hadn’t really told anyone what you’d been doing Sunday, and especially left out the part where you were with Tom.

Once getting home the previous night, you’d quickly taken off your makeup and brushed your teeth before essentially passing out on your bed. You’d also snoozed your alarm enough times that you’d had to rush to school that morning, getting to class with only a minute to spare.

In the afternoon, your friends sat around a lunch table discussing how your weekends had gone.

“Mine was pretty boring. How about yours, y/n?” Caroline asked.

“It was fine. Mostly did homework. Oh, and I took some senior pictures yesterday, but that’s it.”

“Oh that’s why your hair is straight?” someone else asked.

“Yeah, I got home late and woke up late so I just tossed on some jeans this morning.”

“Where even were you? Your snap maps said you were at the lake,” Alexis stated. 

To say that question made you nervous was an understatement. You didn’t want to give anything away so you tried to keep it vague.

“Oh, yeah. The photographer knew of a place out there we could go so I said yes.”

“Who was your photographer? I’ve been looking to get pictures done,” Caroline said.

Well, there goes ambiguity.

“Hah, well, Nikki Holland.”

“Isn’t that Tom’s mom?” Alexis asked, squinting at you. You sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been at their house a lot for the project and her whole career is photography so she asked me if I wanted her to do my pictures for free. I couldn’t turn that down.

“So that’s why you and Tom were at the same location yesterday!” Alexis exclaimed.

“What! Keep your voice down!”

“So it’s true? You and Tom took your senior pictures together? I was waiting until you’d admit why you were together.”

“Okay there are so many things I need to address but firstly, we did not take them together, we just did them at the same time. And secondly, since when do you have Tom on snap?”

Alexis rubbed the back of her neck and looked away. Everyone else looked surprised and kept quiet.

“Remember sophomore year when I went to that party while you were out of town? And I told you I made out with someone? Well….”

“ALEXIS!”

“I was drunk, okay? By the next day I realized how gross it was, but I kept him on snap so I could keep tabs for when we talked trash about him.”

You folded your arms across your chest and stared blankly across the table at your best friend.

“And you just didn’t think to tell me that you, I don’t know, made out with my mortal enemy and have had him on snap for the past 2 years?”

“I thought you’d be mad at me! Obviously it was the one time, and we’ve never sent each other a single snap. This was about you anyways and how you and Tom spent yesterday together. Where were you, actually?” Alexis asked, looking at you expectantly. You rolled your eyes.

“His grandparents have a lake house, okay? His mom planned the whole thing and the leaves were pretty colors, so it was whatever.”

“Hm, I guess so…” Alexis trailed, giving you one final look of “this conversation isn’t over” before someone brought up a different topic.

%

With volleyball regionals that upcoming weekend and Tom having an away game, you and he decided to work together that Thursday at his place.

You quickly rinsed off after practice and headed over to his house where he was waiting at the door. 

“Took you awhile,” he commented as you came up the sidewalk.

“Yeah, sorry. I got caught talking to coach about this weekend. It also takes forever to get these leggings on right out of the shower,” you joked, gesturing down at your athletic pants.

You got to work pretty quickly as there was a lot to do as compared to normal. By the time you finished, it was almost dinnertime.

“Oh, I think my mom finished all those pictures if you want them. Let’s go find her,” Tom suggested, leading you downstairs.

Her and Dom were in the kitchen cooking together. It was sweet watching them interact.

“Hey, mom? Did you say you had that flash drive done?” Tom interrupted, causing both parents to turn.

“Yes! I’m glad you reminded me. Dom, hold down the fort while I go get that.”

She led you to her office, then dug around her desk until she found it, handing it to you.

“You know, dinner will be ready in probably 10 minutes. You’re free to eat with us tonight,” she offered.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You never impose on us! And absolutely, we always make more than enough food so the boys can take leftovers to school.”

Well if you’re sure… I’ll text my mom and make sure she doesn’t mind.”

She didn’t, so as you waited for dinner, you sat down on a living room couch, Tom taking a recliner nearby. From the corner of your eye you saw Paddy walk in the room and freeze when he saw you.

“Y/n! Lovely to see you on this fine evening,” he greeted, sitting tentatively on the other end of the couch. You held back a chuckle at his word choice.

“And you as well, sir. How was your day?” you asked, trying to get him out of his shell. 

His eyes widened as he told you all about his school day. You prepared to reply when Dom came and announced the food was done.

You followed everyone to the dining room and stood watching, not wanting to accidentally take someone’s seat.

“Oh, you can sit here, y/n,” Paddy said, pulling out a seat for you in the middle of the table. You glanced to Tom, who was rolling his eyes.

“Thanks, Paddy. What a gentleman you are,” you complimented as he helped tuck in your chair. He took the seat on the left of you as Tom sat on your right. Directly across from you were Sam, then Harry and Dom on either side. Nikki took the head.

“Y/n, why don’t you get what you want first,” Nikki suggested, gesturing over the food. There was spaghetti, salad, and bread. You got only a little bit of each thing, trying to be polite.

“That’s all you want? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you eat more on the bus to soccer games than that,” Tom commented. You raised your eyebrows at him and nudged his knee with yours.

“Thomas! Don’t be rude! Y/n, you’re free to however much or little you’d like. You can always go back for more later, too.”

Dinner went relatively smoothly aside from that, most of the conversation being centered on you as different family members wanted to know different things (Paddy especially as he’d trained his eyes on you almost the entire evening). For the most part, Tom was quiet except to crack a few jokes or answer something you asked him.

As everyone was finishing their meals, you offered to help clean up.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s Tom’s job to do the dishes tonight,” Dom told you.

“I don’t mind helping him. I can dry if nothing else.”

After being reminded a few times that you shouldn't feel the need to, you went with Tom to the kitchen anyways, holding a towel. 

“You really don’t have to help me, you know. You’re technically our guest,” he said as the sink filled with water.

“Seriously, I don’t mind. I have nothing better to do anyways since I finished my homework.”

You worked together pretty much silently, falling into a comfortable rhythm. As you set down the last plate, Tom spoke up.

“Hey y/n, think fast.”

“Wha- TOM!” you exclaimed, as he had shot water at you, making the front of your shirt wet. “Oh you are so dead for that!” 

You jumped on his back, pressing your wet shirt against him, causing his own shirt to dampen. He thrashed around, the both of you laughing.

“What the hell is going on in- oh,” said Sam, who entered the room. 

You both froze in place, you quickly sliding off Tom as Sam looked at you skeptically.

“Your brother just sprayed me with the faucet, so I was getting back at him,” you tried to convince him. It is what happened after all.

“Right... I was just coming to grab something from the drawer, so I’ll leave you all to it,” he said awkwardly as he dug around the drawer and quickly made his leave. 

You and Tom both looked at each other awkwardly before bursting into laughter.

“You know you’re lucky this is a dark shirt,” you said after a moment.

“Am I though?”

“TOM!”

%

When you got home a little bit later, you decided to plug in your flash drive and look at all the pictures Nikki had taken. You were marveling at her work when your phone started buzzing. It was Alexis.

“Hey, what’s up?” you picked up, confused as to why she’d call on a Thursday night.

“Hey. I saw that you were home so I figured I was good to call. Are you alone?”

“Yes, and why do you need me alone?”

She paused.

“Look, y/n, I’m sorry for bringing that stuff up about Tom in front of the girls Monday, but, since I don’t know when I’ll be able to get you alone again, I need to ask you something.”

“Okay what is going on?” You’re scaring me a little.”

“I hate to be the one to ask this, because I know you and we came up with that whole revenge thing at the beginning of the semester but… do you… have feelings for Tom?”

You were taken aback at her question.

“What! Me have feelings for Tom? Are you crazy?”

She sighed.

“Well it’s just that, you two are always together now, your usual bickering has turned into normal banter, and you literally traveled to take pictures with him last weekend. It just seems like something else is there, and the whole school is starting to pick up on it.”

Ironically, you had frozen on a picture of you and Tom from Sunday, one of you standing in your sports uniforms back to back.

“Okay so maybe we’re kind of friends now, but that doesn’t mean I like him! And how many times do I have to say that the pictures were just at the same time?”

“Then explain to me why his mom’s website has multiple pictures of you two together?”

Your blood ran cold and stomach dropped.

“Wait, what?” you breathed, immediately going to pull up her page. Like Alexis said, a picture of the two of you posing was at the top of the home page. It was the same one you’d been looking at before. “Oh, no,” you whispered.

“Are you seeing it?” she asked.

You gulped.

“Yep. But, it’s not that bad, right? I mean she takes tons of sports pictures and we look super serious. It’s not like we’re standing with our arms wrapped around each other or anything.” you rationalized, half joking at the end of your sentence.

“You might want to scroll down, then…”

You went past a photo of just you on the dock railing in your jumpsuit to find one of Tom lifting you over his shoulder, but of you laughing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered.

“Are you sure you’ve got nothing to tell me? I’ve had lots of guy friends and most of them don't do that to me.”

“Yes, Alexis, I’m sure. He was getting back at me for something and acted like he was gonna throw me in the lake. I didn’t realize Nikki took any pictures of it. I’ll ask Tom about it.”

“If you say so… I’ll believe you. But you do know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Of course I do, and I’m telling you right now that nothing has happened or will ever happen. We’re just friends, okay? Now I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow?” you finished.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” she signed off, ending the call.

You felt another pit in your stomach thinking about how you’d lied to her. You definitely didn’t have feelings, but why didn’t you tell Alexis about that moment you’d had in his room a couple weeks back, or how you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder Sunday night, or even how you’d accidentally seen him naked?

Because she’d think there’s something there.

But there isn’t.

But..?

You shook the thoughts away as you texted Tom, asking him to take a glance at his mom’s website.

“Omg I have no idea why she used the third picture. I’ll see if she’ll change it” he answered. 

You were glad he would save your asses like that, but felt a twinge of sadness for it to be replaced. You almost didn’t mind it being there.

%

A/N: another long awaited marriage project! I have been working so hard to get this out while going through rewrites and working on sweet home alabama, but hopefully this will hold y’all over for now. As always, thank you so much and feel free to hit up my asks any time!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, 

#The Marriage Project #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland story #tom holland series #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

[officerjennie]

A spiteful continuation of my last Geskel piece (which will be linked in the comments), with Ace!Eskel (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

CW: Smut with feelings (lots of feelings). Bottom Geralt Rights. Intercourse. Teasing that’s (mostly) not meant to be teasing. Eskel getting a little overwhelmed with feelings. WC 5k+

--

Ever since Geralt had opened up to him, their time together had shifted. Change was something that always came a big more difficult the older one got but Eskel rather liked this change, liked that Geralt relaxed down onto the bed for him, let Eskel’s hands run over his still clothed body and slowly peel the layers off of him.

In all honesty, Geralt had more practice in all of this than he did, and it wasn’t entirely due to his scars. Oh, Eskel was not naïve, he knew the way most humans looked at him. It’s exactly the reason he avoided so many of them - and he’d never fancied himself a hero anyway, simply there to do the dirty work and clean up the messes the world created, dealing with curses and monsters and the like. But he knew he wasn’t a pretty sight to many, his scars playing into their fears, reminding them of what was out there that could hurt them.

And reminding them that he could survive it and far, far worse.

He wondered, sometimes, whether they were more afraid of him for surviving it, or afraid of whatever had attacked him. Not that it really mattered, but it was a thought that drifted in and out of his head throughout the years as he traveled his own path, sticking mostly to the shadows and remaining an anonymous figure for the most part, never creating or wanting to create a name for himself.

“Eskel.”

But Geralt might change his mind about names. Eskel sat straddled in his lap, tilting his head as he watching how the morning light lit up the fan of Geralt’s hair on the pillows. His chest was bare and his abdomen warm beneath one of Eskel’s palms, the muscles subtly clenching in a way meant to entice him to touch more, stomach expanding and collapsing as Eskel simply felt him breathe.

The bulge in Geralt’s pants told him quite clearly the other man was interested in much more than breathing. Eskel’s mouth quirked upward, the scar stretching tight as it did. “Did you want something?”

“Want you to get on with it,” Geralt growled at him, no real heat to his glare. 

Humming, Eskel ran his hand flat over Geralt’s stomach, admiring the strength there, stopping to trace a scar along the right side. “Not in a rush, are we?” He’d never cared for rushing. Sex in a hurry held no appeal to him, getting off really not being the purpose. What did it matter if he came if it didn’t mean something between them? If he didn’t have time to show the man beneath him how loved he was?

Geralt never really minded them rushing. Most times he was rather impatient if Eskel was being honest. But now that Geralt had handed him the reigns, it wasn’t up to him to decide how quickly they got to it.

Eskel planned to take his time with it.

At least he was kind enough to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Geralt helpfully hitched up his hips when needed, propping his head up proper to get a better view when Eskel settled down between his spread thighs. Eskel’s fingers got distracted once again by the expanse of skin underneath them, tracing scar after scar, knowing the stories of many and tilting his head curiously at the few others. One was even new, a crescent shaped one just at his hip, with indents in it that Eskel knew had to have hurt more than the smoother ones - knew from experience what missing parts of himself felt like. To soothe the old wound he bend down low to brush his lips against it, closing his eyes, chapped lips hardly able to feel the difference between the scarred flesh and the rest of him.

The feel of a warm, broad hand at the back of his head made Eskel’s eyes flutter back open. He stared up the expanse of his lover, up the pale skin and rather large pectorals that were covered with curls, all the way up to the heated pools of gold that stared at him as if Geralt wanted to devour him whole. It made him smile, a hint of a smirk in it, as he rubbed his nose gently at his hip.

A growl made him laugh, which just earned his hair a bit of a tug - nothing rough, Geralt knew he wasn’t a fan of rough between them, just a gentle reminder that Geralt’s wants were still left resting heavy and full against his thigh.

“‘Patience, little wolf’,” Eskel teased, his eyes glittering with humor at the expression that caused. Geralt groaned and dropped his head back, grouching about not quoting their teacher while they were like this, and Eskel took his chance to run his lips all over the skin he so dearly wanted to spoil and adore.

The thighs were next. He squeezed them and memorized the scars all over, his cheek dangerously close to Geralt’s now leaking cock but he still paid it no mind, far more invested in kissing each and every mark he found on his body. There were no new scars down here but he knew there was a single beauty mark right where his left arse cheek met his thigh and he found it with ease, eyes closed yet again as he pressed a gentle kiss right overtop of it before flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat on his skin. Geralt groaned again but it sounded nothing like the last one, the scent of arousal thick in the air around them, his pre’s scent sharp and cutting through it when Eskel inhaled.

“Fucking tease.”

Eskel didn’t even look up this time, humming as he kissed up Geralt’s thigh, adoring him. Just to make sure they both got an equal amount of love he switched to the other, smattering it with kisses, his heart fluttering in his chest as he did.

There was no doubt in his mind that there had been many hands and lips on this same skin. Nights and days alike where many had roamed Geralt’s body, seeking out his pleasure and their own, men and women and others riding his thighs or cock. Sex workers and those just looking for a thrill, those who had seen the beauty inside of him or had simply wanted a go. They were both no longer young pups and had traveled the world, experiencing much of it, and Geralt had never been shy over seeking out adult pleasures.

His were not the first hands to run over his thighs and marvel at them. His were not the first fingers that squeezed and dug into the muscle there, or to skim oh so close to where he wished they would be wrapped around him. Many eyes had drank him in hungrily before, many lips had found their path just next to his sack - but how many, he wondered, held the trust that Geralt had in him?

Perhaps it was wistful thinking, but he doubted any of them at all. He doubted any were allowed to hold him close the way he was allowed to, doubted any had seen him at his worst and loved him still, that any had allowed to see him so vulnerable in the way Eskel had many times before.

Doubted any had given their hearts so willingly over to him as well.

“Tease - sweet Melitele, Eskel, if you don’t start using that tongue I swear to fuck-” Geralt hissed down at him, his patience breaking and hand tugging at Eskel’s hair in his own sort of plea.

Right. He huffed out a breath that made Geralt swear at him again with it so close to his cock; he really should remember that this was, well, different for the both of them. Maybe he got all he needed just kissing every inch of him but Geralt was after something more.

Didn’t mean Eskel had to be nice about it though. With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he flashed a smile up at Geralt, and then immediately wrapped his lips right around his cock and swallowed around him. The taste of pre was thick on his tongue as Geralt swore, practiced experience having Eskel’s hands coming up to hold Geralt’s hips down since he saw the jerk of them coming. Choking on his love’s cock had never seemed all that appealing to him, no matter that he loved the feel of having him thick against his tongue, feeling the weight there.

Eskel sunk down low, humming very lightly to feel Geralt’s nails scratch gently at his scalp, his love trying to find purchase but being as gentle as he could. He relaxed his jaw to keep from aching, hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back until just the tip stayed in his mouth, licking the slit and feeling Geralt leak for him.

This was something they could both enjoy greatly. He heard Geralt moan as he sunk down again, his own cock twitching in his pants but he ignored it, not really caring if it got any attention throughout their evening. Though, he supposed, it would eventually once they were joined, but Eskel was much more concerned with their current connection.

It was why he loved this so much. He rested his head briefly against Geralt’s thigh just to feel it warm against him as he sucked lightly on the head of his prick, one hand coming up to fondle his sack, rolling a testicle and feeling Geralt twitch beneath him. There was just something so soothing about being connected like this, in such an intimate way, that Eskel had to fight against the urge to relax and simply lay there, simply exist in that connection - it would drive Geralt up the wall for him to do so, it would earn him so many accusations of teasing but there was no purposeful teasing meant about it. Eskel just…

Perhaps he loved differently, he mused, as he lifted his head once more to sink down and run the flat of his tongue against the bottom of Geralt’s shaft. Perhaps he simply loved being as close as physically possible to his love, and this was one way he could do that. Feel Geralt inside of him and know there were little ways they could be closer than this, than to be intertwined in such a way. 

Geralt’s moaning had deepened, rumbling above him. Some words managed to escape him here and there, the occasional praise, his name, his hand cupping the back of Eskel’s head as Geralt did his best to not push him to go faster - as they both knew he wanted to. It gave Eskel a thought that he made sure to put away for later; sometime, he should let Geralt use his mouth as he pleased, but for now he wanted to enjoy this entanglement the way he best knew how.

When the ‘tease’ word slipped out again, Eskel hollowed his cheeks and lifted his head until he let Geralt’s cock slip out with an audible pop, watching it fall heavy and swollen and wanting in his absence. He kissed its leaking head a few times, then kissed down its shaft and over to one of his thighs once more, looking up between his eyelashes in that way he knew Geralt loved as he purred, “You love it” in accusation right back.

Sure, he never meant to tease - well. Usually his actions weren’t meant that way. But it didn’t mean he was entirely oblivious to how much Geralt actually loved being worked up into a tither. 

But, Eskel supposed, he’d been ‘teased’ enough. He patted Geralt’s thigh affectionately and then pushed himself up, letting Geralt grunt at him all he wanted while he got up to fetch the oil. It had been left in his pack when they’d gotten to the inn, tossed somewhere into the big pocket, which meant it took him a minute to fish it out. When he finally stood back up he turned to find Geralt palming himself, his eyes heady as he watched Eskel’s movements. 

“Pants off,” Geralt ordered, and Eskel found it just amusing enough to listen. He tossed the oil at his face first, not doubting for a second that his hand would snatch it right out of the air, and in no rush finally undid the buckles for his own pants and slipped out of his smalls.

The cold air hitting his own prick made him want to hiss. He glanced down, not having really even realized how much his body had been reacting to this, finding himself heavy and wanting - only natural, he supposed. The scent of sex and arousal was heavy in the air and it had been a while since he’d given himself any sort of satisfaction; Geralt had gone off on his own for the past few months to try and hunt down his friend, after having shown him his arse on top of a mountain, leaving Eskel to his own devices in the meantime.

And left to his own devices, Eskel had little to no real interest in taking the time to relieve himself in such a fashion - most days he forgot about it entirely, until he was perhaps a little too grouchy when asking for the right payment for a hunt, or when he found himself staring a little too long at some cute thing that passed him by.

He climbed back into bed and resumed his position between Geralt’s thighs, this time hooking his fingers under his knees and lifting him up so he could get a good look at his entrance. With an outstretched hand he asked for the oil back, catching it when it was tossed at his face in revenge, flashing his love an amused smirk and loving the one he saw on Geralt’s face as well.

The look lost its amusement when he swatted Geralt’s hand away from his cock, replaced with a glower that held no real heat. He apologized with a kiss that made Geralt buck his hips just to be a prick, and Eskel nipped his thigh in revenge. 

“Get on with it.”

One of these days, Eskel was going to ignore him. He shook his head fondly, already missing the way Geralt’s fingers felt in his hair and the way he felt on his tongue but more than willing to ‘get on with it’ if that’s what Geralt wanted.

He popped the oil open and slicked up three of his fingers, though he would only be using one for the time being, before pouring some directly below Geralt’s sack to watch it drip down his crack. It made Geralt shiver and made a bit of a mess on the sheets but Eskel was, if anything, very careful about this sort of thing. The last thing he wanted was to cause Geralt any sort of discomfort, though he knew there was always going to be some measure of that whenever stretching him open; his plan was always to cause as little unnecessary discomfort as possible, all things considered. 

With his slicked up middle finger, he slipped down and followed the path of the dripping oil, running it against Geralt’s entrance and watching it twitch at the light attention. As Geralt tried to push down into it, Eskel held one of his legs up further, pushing it up by the thigh to give him a good view of what he was doing, of the attention he was giving his love. His finger glided so easily over where Geralt wanted it, and he circled it on his entrance, pushing ever so gently to see how easy it might give to the pressure.

Didn’t take much to push in just to the first knuckle, feeling the ring of muscle clench around him. He heard the gasp and subsequent exhale of air when he did, heard Geralt’s heartbeat pick up ever so slightly as he rubbed inside of him, feeling the tug of it all. Geralt clenched down at the hint that he might take his finger out and it made Eskel huff out some air of his own; Geralt really didn’t want to let him go, did he?

But he was a bit too tight, not relaxing for him. He worked that one finger in gently, in and out slower than Geralt would have preferred, feeling his thigh clenching under his hand as he did. Slowly, the resistance faded, Eskel kissing the leg that he held up and murmuring for Geralt to relax for him, let him take care of him.

It made his heart ache in the best of ways that Geralt did let him. That Geralt moved about as best he could in his position to gather the pillows up to prop his head up with, aided by one arm behind his head, so he could watch what Eskel was doing with hungry eyes - that Geralt laid back and relaxed even as his arousal laid heavy against his stretched out thigh, still dripping precum, still wanting the touch it was now denied as Eskel was busy elsewhere. 

Meant the world to him that Geralt let him do this. Let him take the reins and work him open, slipping two fingers in now as he peppered more kisses anywhere he could reach, bending down to kiss at the back of the thigh he held tight to stretch his hips wider. 

When he finally had two fingers fully in him, he let Geralt move just enough to rock into them. He loved feeling Geralt clench around them and hear him groan at the connection - though, he suspected it was more how full he felt than the connection itself, given the heady sound of it. That didn’t stop Eskel’s heart from feeling just as full; he had to bite his lip to stop from getting too emotional over this, just like usual. Something about being with Geralt like this always made him turn into such a sap it was nearly embarrassing. He was just grateful Lambert would never catch wind of any of this, to at least spare him the constant embarrassment and teasing over getting teary eyed over making love. 

At least Geralt had either not ever noticed or was choosing to ignore the sap that bubbled up and threatened to spill over. Eskel crooked his fingers and felt them drag across Geralt’s inner walls, drawing a low moan out of him, flicking his gaze up to quirk an eyebrow at the hand that inched towards Geralt’s cock.

“I’ll get to it,” he promised, searching around with his two fingers. “Let me take care of you.” 

The hand paused, and Eskel continued his searching. It took a little while, perhaps a minute or so, but he wasn’t in any rush - but when he finally found that bundle of nerves he rubbed against it firmly, feeling Geralt suddenly clench around him with a much louder moan this time, his thigh clenching again and his breaths hitching.

Eskel had to shift about, feeling a little uncomfortable, the scent getting to him and making his own prick leak. He’d never been much of a leaker, finding it actually a little difficult to get to that point of arousal, but it dribbled out onto his thigh then and made his skin itch. But he ignored the urge to wipe it off, pulling his fingers out to the tips so he could press in with a third, feeling some resistance as he did. Not enough that it wouldn’t give but enough for him to watch Geralt’s face as he worked all three in, making sure there wasn’t any discomfort there - but the furrowing of his brow didn’t have anything to do with pain, just impatience, the urge to seek out pleasure but the knowledge that he had to be patient and wait.

It was almost cute, how frustrated Geralt could get over sex. Cute enough to earn him some more kisses, Eskel even dipping down to press one nice and firm against the side of his shaft, peppering more all the way up to swipe the precum up with his tongue. 

There it was. That hand back in his hair, fingers running through his locks and making his eyes flutter closed as it gently grasped a handful at the back of his head. He hadn’t meant to just yet but he slipped Geralt’s cock back into his mouth at the feel of them, loosening up to take his entire length in, letting his nose rest in a nest of white curls and he just stayed there. Jaw slack, tongue pressed against the length of him, fingers moving while his head stayed still and he just listened and felt. 

Every once in a while, he had to swallow, not wanting to drool all over his love. He worked him open and listened to him moan, listened to his hitching breaths and his heart beat faster and faster. When at last four fingers worked in and out of him with little effort Eskel decided that was enough, that he was decently stretched and wouldn’t hurt from them joining - not that Eskel had much to worry about there. His own prick wasn’t as thick as Geralt’s, rather modest in size and girth, which made it much easier to stretch him appropriately beforehand. Much faster than the other way around, when their norm had been Geralt inside of him, one reason Eskel had never quite understood the societal embarrassment over smaller pricks.

As he positioned himself closer, not wanting to pull Geralt down from his comfy position propped up on the pillows, he hitched both of his legs up to wrap them around his hips. Geralt helped pull him closer and squeezed him gently between his thick thighs as Eskel took himself in hand, guiding his prick towards that well stretched hole and gently grinding it between his cheeks.

“Fuck, wait.” Eskel paused, looking here and there, not immediately spotting what he was after. Which earned him an impatient growl but he just soothed a hand over Geralt’s stomach and ignored the bucking of his hips, finally spotting and grabbing the previously abandoned oil - which he had thankfully remembered to cap before it had been tossed recklessly to the side. At least it had also stayed within arm’s reach. He poured a generous amount into his palm before stroking himself a few times, squeezing just because he could, making sure he was oiled up nicely before guiding himself back to where his love wanted him.

He slipped in with ease, pushing passed that ring of tight muscles and shuddering at the feel of it squeezing around the tip of his prick. When he showed signs of stopping there to enjoy it a moment Geralt pushed back onto him, pulling him closer with his crossed ankles, and Eskel huffed in amusement but obeyed. It didn’t take long before he was fully inside of him, feeling him contracting around him in pleasure, Geralt’s eyes closed and his back arching ever so slightly off of the bed as he enjoyed their joining.

Eskel could not have found a better home than here, where he was. His own breaths shuddered, head dropping as he closed his eyes and took it in. The warmth that spread through him had little to do with the sexual pleasure and everything to do with how close they were. How impossibly close, but never close enough. Suddenly he needed to be closer, needed to have his arms around his love- Eskel moved them around until he was laying against Geralt’s chest, worming his arms underneath him to hug him tight, feeling Geralt’s thighs squeeze around him as he did.

Eyes shut tight, Eskel buried his nose against Geralt, letting it all wash over him and melting the second he felt those strong arms envelope him right back. One hand flat against his back, the other in his hair, scratching at his scalp and cradling his head with such care.

He breathed. That’s all he could do then, as they were, closer now than ever before. He felt wrapped up tight and safe in that moment, and felt complete, like the warmth in his chest would never go away. It felt like the cumulation of all he’d ever wanted each and every time he took such care of his love, what he’d always been chasing every time he wrapped his lips around his prick or felt how warm Geralt was around his fingers.

All of it had led to this, feeling impossibly close and complete now with him. Like they trusted and loved each other like no other could, the intimacy of it all making the corners of his eyes wet with emotion.

“You alright?”

He cracked his eyes open, peeking up through thankfully dry eyelashes at the gentlest of tones. Concern was written on the downpull of Geralt’s frown but Eskel tugged one of his hands free, reaching up to sooth it away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“‘M fine.” He pressed his hips closer and shifted just enough to feel their connection, sighing into it. “I just...love you.”

It sounded lame to his own ears, but mercifully Geralt didn’t tease him over it. He kissed his thumb instead, a softness taking over his expression then as he rubbed gentle circles into his back and held him closer.

“Love you too.” He shifted as well, a noise escaping his throat as his now trapped prick rubbed against Eskel’s stomach. “But can the cuddling come later? After?”

Eskel kissed the pectoral he’d been burying his nose into, humming thoughtfully. “Didn’t think you a cuddler, Geralt. Wonder what your bard would do with that knowledge.”

He got bucked for that tease, breaking the softness that had overcome him and replacing it with warm humor. To say Geralt had been patient with him would have been a lie but he had allowed him this much so far; the least Eskel could do was help him come, and then get on with his soggy emotional cuddling.

It still took a lot out of him to peel himself off of Geralt enough to be able to continue on like he wanted. He had also gone a little soft in his emotions, though he knew it wouldn’t take too long to remedy that - a few rocks of his hips brought most of the interest back, tingles of pleasure working their way through him, deep inhales through his nose letting his brain go a little foggy with the scent of oil and sex about them. Since Geralt had had plenty of time to get used to him, the glide of his prick in and out of his arse was smooth, allowing a nice amount of friction to have them both letting out small noises.

Chasing his own arousal had never really mattered to him, but helping Geralt build up his own sounded quite delightful. Especially so with how Geralt laid himself out so beautifully for him, one arm back behind his head so he could take in what Eskel was doing to him, for him, the other reaching down to take one of Eskel’s hands. His heart skipped in his chest as their fingers laced together, his hips starting a steady rhythm.

He hadn’t found quite the right position yet, though. That bundle of nerves was evading him; Eskel frowned in concentration, feeling the scars on his face pull at the movement, searching for it as he tilted his hips here and there. And he knew the moment he found it because it jerked a moan out of the both of them, Geralt bucking and clenching tightly around him as his eyes squeezed tight and his back arched upward.

Yes, he quite liked helping Geralt find pleasure. He did his best to aim for that spot, knowing Geralt liked it hit dead on - he himself usually preferred a light touch there, not really caring for how brightly it took over his brain when it was impacted so directly - and doing his best to do that for him. Like always it wasn’t a perfect thing, his cock slipping out once and he had to unlace their fingers to guide himself back in while Geralt hissed at his absence, clenching around air and telling him quite clearly how he needed his cock, needed to feel full, full of him.

Soon, Eskel felt the telltale signs of his own orgasm nearing. A coil in the pit of his gut clenching and needing release, his breaths coming quicker, his heart joining the symphony of fast breaths and skin hitting skin in his ears. Geralt’s neglected cock lay against his stomach in a pool of pre, begging to be touched, and Eskel reached for it then, dragging Geralt’s hand with his own by their laced fingers.

With both of their hands gripped tight around Geralt’s cock, gliding easy with the help of his precum and the oil that had kept Eskel’s hand slick, it did not take long for Geralt’s movements to become jerky. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tight but mouth slightly open, the only sounds coming out of him now being his shuddering breaths. A few more jerks of their hands and he exhaled sharply, come spurting out as Eskel fucked him through his orgasm, swallowing back his own moan at the feel of it hitting Geralt and making him contract almost painfully around him.

This time, Eskel felt his need far too heavily to think of stopping himself. His hips stuttered and words fell out from between his lips, incoherent things that slipped out as pleasure washed over him as well, his spend soon dripping out from Geralt as he slowed and finally stopped altogether.

It took effort to not drop down on top of him. Eskel stretched his back and groaned at a pop, then lowered himself onto his love, not caring that they were covered in sweat and spend - and Geralt didn’t care either, wrapping his arms around him to tug him close and placing kisses to the top of his head. 

Eskel did his best to not slip out of him, pressing them close as he burrowed himself right back into his love’s chest, feeling that warmth spread through him yet again. He was home in his arms, wrapped up safe and warm, and if he had any say in the matter he would not be leaving anytime soon. 

“I love you.” It meant the world to him that he was allowed to say it, to whisper it against that sweaty chest, to press lazy and lingering kisses there as he wished. But it meant a whole world more to hear the words right back and feel fingers trace nonsensical patterns into his hair and skin, the day carrying on outside of their room as they found peace within each other.

#geskel #geralt #eskel #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony #ace!eskel #i love them your honor #also ow ow ow someone plz save my fingies T^T

[arigatouiris]

the fool’s curse // akutagawa ryunosuke x reader

Author’s Note: I absolutely adore Akutagawa and think he deserves the world; and I can definitely see him as being soft with someone he has feelings for and whoop why not give his coughing a reason anyway lmao. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8k+

Pairing: Akutagawa Ryunosuke x Reader

Summary: ［Ａｋｕｔａｇａｗａ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ］: Akutagawa wasn't someone who hoped, he chased after what he believed he deserved, like a dog chasing after cars. Futility was part of existence, after all, and it was a fact he believed he had accepted. Every part of your existence was a bane to his, and he was cursed to have even met you. Love was nothing but a fool's curse, and Akutagawa hated being one. Especially when it was physically killing him in the form of lilac petals infused with blood. [Hanahaki AU]

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft aku, mentions of blood, swearing (because Aku ofc), softness, tooth-rotting fluff, some angst if you squint (Also Chuuya makes an appeareance bc I love that shrimp mafioso)

If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze, coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

    And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

    “Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

    Indeed, it had always been you. Ever since he had laid his eyes on you, ever since there had been that cursed deepening between the bond he shared with you, the moronic display of his own version of affection that on odd days caught him off guard—ever since he had coughed out blood infused with purple-magenta lilacs, he had known that it was you. He wasn’t familiar with the disease he carried, but he deemed it a fool’s curse to be caught with a feeling as hopeless as this. Yet, you were the one to once again aid him. You were the one who had told him what was happening and it had thus become inevitably clear to him as if it wasn’t clear already; Akutagawa “Rabid Dog” Ryuunosuke was hopelessly, carelessly, irrevocably, and painfully in love with you—a commoner, a medical student, a moron.

*

The first time Akutagawa saw you was when he was returning from a minor mission. It was something Higuchi herself could have easily handled, but there wasn’t a chance the dog was letting his subordinates handle an entire subgroup on their own. Intimidation was something Akutagawa did best, and it was the one thing he looked forward to when concerned with minor missions such as these. Not that anyone minded that he tagged along; however, once it was done, there was no more reason for him to waste any more time around the area. Returning to the car, he merely had to just stand near the vehicle for Higuchi to come running and start the engine, heading back to the headquarters.

    A sudden break harshly pulled him out of his reverie and that was when he saw you—on the other end, hands outstretched and a pleading look in your eye. It wasn’t that he was always quick to anger, he knew there was a reason why you were stopping traffic, and when he craned his neck to look at what you were shielding, the answer was clear. There was a man, frothing from his mouth, shaking uncontrollably on the ground and there you were, wearing a white coat, hair pulled behind you in a messy bun, eyes far too tired to be seen in such broad daylight, begging him to stop his car so that she can at least move the man.

    “What should I do, senpai?” Higuchi asked, her voice cold. “Should I ram into—“

    “No,” Akutagawa leaned back and watched, “This doesn't concern me.”

    “Looks like the man is having an epileptic attack.” The blonde woman said, blinking.

    It didn’t matter to him what was happening with the man, but when you pulled yourself over to the window by which Akutagawa sat, he was alerted. You knocked twice, albeit pleadingly at his window, before he turned to Higuchi who easily read the look he gave her incorrectly. Pulling out a gun, she threatened to shoot you before ordering you to back away, but you stood there, staring right into her eyes expressionlessly. Akutagawa blinked before wondering where else he had seen eyes as devoid of fear as yours before lowering his window.

    “What do you want?”

    “That man is dying,” You said, “You’re the Port Mafia, right?”

Higuchi hissed before shoving her gun forward, but you paid her no heed.

    “That’s right. Back away while you know what’s good for you, peasant.” Akutagawa said, looking away from you.

    “The Port Mafia loves the city, correct? I’m sure whoever your leader is would agree that saving one man is also in a way keeping the peace. Help me take him to a hospital, and you’ll never see this peasant again.”

    Just before Higuchi could try to intimidate you once more, Akutagawa stopped her. It was not the kindness of his heart that decided to go with your pleas. It was not anything to do with a positive emotion at all, it was simply the fact that the nearest hospital was 500 meters ahead, and a frail person like yourself couldn’t possibly move a dying man on your own. You immediately turned to the epileptic man and ignored the helpless, ignorant onlookers before putting one arm under his shaking one, and attempted to pull him forward; however, a long, dark cloth-like substance wrapped itself around the man before pulling him inside the car forcefully, earning a gasp out of you. You stared at Akutagawa before nodding and following him inside. You sat beside the dying man before offering him a piece of metal and placed it in between his mouth, to prevent him from biting his tongue off in shock. Akutagawa watched you from the rear-view mirror without a word, wondering if he was doing something idiotic or if he was actually carrying forward the legacy his organization aimed to keep.

    “Senpai,” Higuchi whispered, “Are you sure… this is fine?”

    He didn’t answer her but instead turned to you. He noticed that your white coat was no ordinary lab coat, you were a doctor. This explained why you looked so tired and why you wanted to help a random man on the road, but what it didn’t explain was how unfazed you were with Higuchi’s threats earlier; this was what alerted Akutagawa in the first place. The eyes you wore maliciously, the eyes devoid of emotion, especially for a young doctor—it wasn’t ordinary.

    “Is there a reason why you’re staring at me?” You asked, turning to him.

    “How dare you—“

  “Shut up, Higuchi,” He scolded before turning to you with a snarky smirk, “You’re a doctor. Surely, you should know you can’t help everyone you see. You saw the people around you, those are the people you’re trying to protect. Your efforts are futile if it’s thankless.”

    “So are yours,” You answered instantly, not meeting his gaze. “Just living is thankless, and yet we thrive. It’s both fascinating and utterly stupid.”

    The car stopped and you instantly ran out before calling in someone from the hospital to help you carry the man away. Akutagawa couldn’t forget what you had said; the words slipped out of you as if you memorized them, it was marvelous how effortlessly you had replied to his attempt at minor intimidation. It wasn’t enough for him to be allured by you but the moment Higuchi attempted to drive off, you rushed back and knocked on the window beside his face once more. This time the tired look in your eyes was more than evident, yet the chapped-lipped smile made him queasy. Akutagawa wasn’t always the receiver of such positive reactions from the general public, so this change was bizarre.

    “Even though it’s futile, or worthless, I like doing it. And you helped me. So, thank you… Uh…”

    “Akutagawa.”

    Your smile only widened before you tilted your head a bit, “Thank you, Akutagawa-san.”

    His eyes landed on your nameplate inches above your coat pocket and he memorized your name: (l/n) (y/n). He watched as you skirted around and walked into the hospital, not a word was said thereafter. He could feel Higuchi kickstart the car and drive them back to base, but as much as he’d have liked to stop thinking of you, it was, as you had said, futile.

*

The next time Akutagawa saw you was in a place he’d never expected to find you in. He stilled in his movements when he spotted you walk into the Port Mafia building, guided by two other armed men, before rushing forward to know what you were doing there. He noticed Koyo Ozaki, standing in front of the room you had just entered and he stopped before her, a questioning look in his eye. She blinked at him before wondering what he wanted, Akutagawa wasn’t the type to exchange pleasantries after all.

    “Are you looking for the other runt? He’s inside—“

    “Why was she here?”

    He should have understood that a pronoun with no prior mention to a name would barely hold any meaning to someone like Koyo. She continued to give him a blank stare before wondering if he was referring to you, the girl who had just walked in to talk to Mori. She could have wondered how the rabid dog knew someone like you, but it wasn’t her place to care. Shrugging, Koyo knew that whatever she said didn’t matter right then.

    “She’s the daughter of one of Mori-san’s old enemies. He’s trying to recruit her,” Koyo waved her hand callously in the air, “Either that or she’ll be terminated. It’s not really my problem so I don’t know. I’m here because there’s something I need to tell him after.”

    What he couldn’t understand was how you were linked to the Port Mafia. Your father was one of the enemies? Did that mean you were an enemy? Were you still linked to your father or had he been terminated beforehand? Not knowing these details, but merely remembering the way you had smiled at him angered him, and he felt a raging cough begin to itch at his throat. Koyo watched as Akutagawa coughed into his hand, feeling the familiar itch that only managed to grow till it burned his nostrils.

    “There’s a name for such a disease,” She said, eyes cloudy, “But, I can see you haven’t caught it yet.”

    The black-haired man narrowed his eyes at the cryptic words the woman said, before turning to find the door opening. You walked out, this time with no one but Nakahara Chuuya behind you. Your eyes widened when you spotted Akutagawa and a smile adorned your features. You approached him before nodding at him, as to acknowledge him. Chuuya blinked before scratching his chin.

    “You know each other?”

    “Yes—“

    “Barely,” Akutagawa said, in between coughs, “What’s she doing here?”

    “You should get that cough looked at, Akutagawa-san. I’d be happy to—“

  “Shut up,” He threatened before glaring at you, and then turning to Chuuya, “What’s going on?”

   Chuuya shrugged, “This girl’s some hot shot’s daughter, but since he’s dead, Boss decided not to worry about her. Besides, she’s harmless. No ability, just a med student.”

    “Nakahara-san, if you would please drop me back from where you rudely picked me up, I’d be grateful.”

    Chuuya groaned before shutting his eyes, “Uh, you know, Akutagawa, why don’t you drop her off? You two can catch up—“

    “I don’t know her.”

    “—and I don’t care. Thanks. See ya!”

    Koyo let out a sigh before wandering inside the room Mori-san is in. You turned to Akutagawa before letting out a sigh yourself, and bowing slightly. He watched you with annoyance plastered all over his face, wondering why in the world you were all of a sudden everywhere. Ever since meeting you, you’d been plaguing his mind like some sort of disease, it was angering. He clicked his tongue before leading you out of the building and finding Higuchi’s car. Higuchi had ensured that Akutagawa would have an additional pair of keys with him at all costs, which came in handy just then. Akutagawa hated the position he was in, completing menial tasks that were assigned to someone else first—Chuuya always pushed minor work on to him whenever he felt like it, and now, he was stuck with you—someone he felt agitated around, someone he believed, even breathing felt like carrying a boulder on his shoulders.

    “I’m very sorry about this,” You said, just a moment before stopping in front of the car, “If I had known Nakahara-san would simply push this on to you, I’d have refrained from asking him—“

    “You think I can’t do something so simple?” He snapped, glaring at you.

    “N-No, that’s… I know it’s a burden.”

    Akutagawa gave you a look, which was either a mix between confusion and fear—an unusual look for him to sport on his face, having never been used to feeling such intense positive emotions before. You were looking at him, afraid to be a burden? This was his job. There was no burden, there was no blessing. It was all worthless in the end.

    “You’re not important enough to be a burden,” He snarled, getting into the car, “Stop worrying over idiotic things.”

    “We all worry over idiotic things,” You said, smiling and getting into the car yourself, “I think it’s a part of who we are.”

    “Don’t group me along with the likes of you.”

    You stayed quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah,” Akutagawa paused momentarily at your sudden acceptance, “You’re right.”

    What did you mean by that? What did you mean by your words? Why did they sound so heavily laced with an emotion that triggered the worst of responses from him? Suddenly, he felt the urge to either slam his hand against the steering wheel out of sheer anger or just stare at you, attempting to decipher any meaning from the words that had just slipped out of you. What a bane to his existence, when answers seemed more confusing than anything Dazai had put him through. Perhaps, you understood from his silence that he was curious about your origins, but now was not the time to unveil anything of the sort. You carried your own burdens, dark and menacing as they may be, but the only solace Akutagawa found in that second was when you turned to him with those very callous eyes and smiled instead.

    “Thank you, again.”

    This time, he did not fight back. This time, he glanced at you as if you were an enchanting representation of everything he had been missing in his life. With eyes like his, he had never imagined that a smile could even be possible—that anything positive could be linked to the way his mind worked. He had been broken beyond repair, or perhaps that was his assumption, but then again, with the way you were looking at him right then, Akutagawa felt an emotion he hadn’t felt in a desperately long time.

    He drove in silence but figured that it was the silence that made things weird for you; he could notice you trying to fill in the gaps with baseless talk, commenting on the weather, talking about patients from your med school, everything and anything that distracted him from your mysterious origins, yet, every time your words would reflect against the barrier of quiet he had put around himself, Akutagawa felt his mind land back on discovering about you. The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but it felt like one the longest drives he had ever taken. He stopped there, before noticing you still in your seat. You were supposed to get up and leave yet there was this aching hunger in him that demanded you answer his unasked questions before going. You turned to him before blinking a few times, and before you can say anything at all, Akutagawa began to cough. It was something he carried wherever he went, and the confusion he felt around you only made it worse. This proved that you were merely a disease, an error in the making. There was nothing he would get from you apart from violent chest burns and a waste of time. You reached forward to touch him out of worry, but he grabbed your wrist so harshly you winced, pulling away out of instinct. As he coughed, he turned to you with a menacing glare—warning you to never attempt to do that again.

    “Akutagawa-san, I—“

    “Don’t,” He took a raspy breath, before coughing again, “Don’t touch me!”

    He gripped harder, knowing full well that the pressure was enough to hurt you. Yet, you sat there, worried eyes plastered toward his form. He hated it. He hated when you directed such a look toward him, he hated being scrutinized by your apparent kindness. Who were you to direct it toward him anyway? A nobody. A peasant. A moron.

    You pulled back quietly, but he wouldn’t let go. You stared at him before letting out a breath; it wasn’t sympathy that pushed you to do what you did next, it was the only human emotion you didn’t feel too ashamed displaying out in the open—care.

    “Akutagawa-san, normally when I study I go to this cafe in central Yokohama,” You pursed your lips, wondering if this information would even make a difference, “The silence there, the… the atmosphere of the place makes it too easy for me to relax and just read. And they have great tea, too!”

    “What useless information.”

    You smiled a bit before shaking your head and opening the door, “I hope I see you around, Akutagawa-san.”

    When you got out of the car, Akutagawa wasted no time in driving back. The fact remained: he stayed there any longer, he’d merely be wasting time. Yet, for some reason, your presence lingered in the seat that you were sitting in earlier, and when he thought of that he felt the sudden urge to cough yet again. However, this time, he felt a tad bit different than general. The cough that carried over began from his chest, phlegm that was never present before manifested out of nowhere and he thought for a second if he had been out in the cold for too long or if he had eaten something to have caused such a reaction, but the image of your bitter smile marred with those callous eyes of yours catered to create a tornado within his chest that left him a breathing, aching mess of disgruntled coughs that radiated a new weakness. It has to be a cold, he thought before continuing on driving back.

    Gin never asked her brother to accompany her when she took evening walks, but that evening since he was also quite free, the siblings decided to get some tea together. He always merely followed after her, since she knew the place better than he ever did; yet, Akutagawa did things differently that evening. He walked alongside his sister, mumbling something about a quiet cafe in central Yokohama, and Gin paused.

    “How do you know about that?” She asked, “It’s one of my favorite places to go to.”

    So, you weren’t lying. It must be a decent place if his sister approved of it, hence there was no reason to not go. It wasn’t as if he was going there to see you—the last thing he wanted was to see you and have you invoke that disgusting emotion in him again. The mere thought of you made him want to cough some more, but he was well hydrated that evening. He followed Gin toward the central streets, finding a lone cafe toward the end of the street; he walked inside, but when his chest ached, he realized you weren’t there.

    “The tea here is really good.” Gin said before going over to sit at a table.

    He took a few seconds before seating himself across from her, feeling the urge to cough once more. Pulling out his hand, which was nestled in his pocket, Akutagawa coughed violently into his fist, alerting his sister. As he coughed, he could feel phlegm build up in his fist but the second his eyes landed on what he had coughed out, Akutagawa froze. Mixed with his own blood sat a tiny petal, a purplish-red hue on it and he couldn’t tell if it was the blood that gave it that color or not. When he breathed in, he felt as if something were lodged in his chest and the more he coughed, the more he coughed out the petals as if there was a live plant growing inside him. Excusing himself, Akutagawa headed inside the cafe’s bathroom before finally allowing himself to cough freely. Four more petals shoved themselves out of his throat before his eyes leaked tears that burned his skin. What was this new sickness? Was this an ability?

    His eyes widened. He had understood. It was you. Ever since he had seen you, he had been infused with a different cough. This was your doing. You were trying to take out the strongest rabid dog in the mafia for your own intentions; perhaps, it was because your father was Mori-san’s enemy, perhaps you wanted revenge for something that happened in the past. Perhaps, your smile meant nothing, after all—it was all a farce so you could take him out, and Akutagawa had been the fool and fallen for your trick. He washed his hands thoroughly before knowing full well that the next time he’d see you would be him barging through your apartment door, demanding answers for what you had done to him. Whether he’d kill you or not wasn’t too clear yet, but he was sure of one thing.

    He felt like he would die if he didn’t see you. Thinking of the petals that he had coughed out, Akutagawa was more than sure that death was imminent.

*

Your hands were shaking and you could barely breathe; the anxiety rappelled from inside your mind and held a vine-like grip all over your body. You knew it was futile to try and breathe or get any studying done with the way you were being, but you had to try. Tears leaked out of your eyes and it felt as if waves were crashing inside your head and every inch of you was drowning and you did very little to try and hold on to the limited reality that was visible to you. You breathed in heavily before another sob cracked through your throat, sinking your entire body to the ground. Your books lay scattered everywhere and you tried to swallow some saliva to soothe your aching throat, but your body wasn’t listening to you and neither was your mind.

    So, at that moment, when the door barged open and black cloth-like arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the air, you let it take you. You shut your eyes before the sobs only multiplied, now you were both scared for your life and desperate, but no part of you would run. You were held in place until a familiar voice pulled you out of the reverie you were in, bringing you back to where you had been before the breakdown happened.

    “What’s wrong with you?” Akutagawa asked, narrowing his eyes.

    He hadn’t expected to find you in such a pitiful state. Surely, if you were a mastermind of deception, you’d be a little more prepared. You didn’t look like you were anywhere close to prepared, you didn’t even look like you were willing to fight. When you opened your eyes, he saw it again—the hollow, empty shells that they were despite the sobs that broke through your lips. Had he scared you? No, you had been in that pitiful state even before he got there. He felt his chest burn once again and that made him think of your ability—the one you had apparently used on him.

    “Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was raspy, and it was then he realized it might have been holding on to you far too tightly to deem comfortable. “…please…”

    He didn’t know what you were asking for but he let you down and waited. Were you going to give him the answers he needed? Was everyone going to be made clear? What was it that you did? What was your master plan?

    “I’m… I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” You said, letting out a bitter chuckle, “And… my door… You broke it.”

    He turned to look at the door and he had indeed broken it down, but that wasn’t the problem. He looked back at you before noticing that you were standing up now, walking toward your kitchen. He couldn’t understand why he let silence envelop both of you right then, but no part of him was complaining. Strangely, being around you had calmed his chest and there was no cough that radiated from within. He followed after you before watching you carefully, noticing you wipe the remaining tears that had stained your cheeks.

    “I… I get anxiety attacks around my exams. I feel like I’m never good enough. No matter how hard I work, how much effort I put it… It’s all…” You bit your lip to stop it from shaking, “…I’m not going to stop, though. I won’t stop. I want to be a doctor. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m going to do this. I have to.”

    “Why does your father know the boss?”

    You stilled for just a moment before continuing with making tea. You pulled out two cups, one for him and one for you, and despite not knowing him enough, the silence that he so well carried with himself was strong and special. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, an eerie thing to feel so loudly, and during every third breath, Akutagawa felt breathless.

    “My father was an assassin,” You said, “Gave up that line of work and became a drug kingpin here. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told I was useless if I didn’t do as he told me to. I did everything. I… everything.”

    Akutagawa’s eyes widened. He watched you as you effortlessly made tea and poured it into his cup. A small dash of honey, and chamomile tea bags, and a kitchen where the aroma was enough to intoxicate a blind person. He had never imagined drinking a tea like this and yet, no part of him complained.

    “You killed people.”

    You looked barely 20 years old. So that could only mean you were a child assassin. After all, it was an easier profession for children.

    “No one expects a child to kill, especially if she’s smiling.” You smiled sweetly, yet the callous expression in your eyes never faded.

    You turned to him a second later before Akutagawa coughed into his hands, multiple petals falling into his fist and then to the floor. You froze as you realized what this was, your hands flying to his now bloody wrist. He caught the bruise he had given you the other day and made no attempt to stop you. You opened his palm and found more lilac petals, covered in phlegm and blood and you stared. Akutagawa didn’t understand what your look meant but waited nonetheless. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he could swear that the callousness in your eyes was slowly fading.

    “Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was a whisper, “This is the hanahaki disease.”

    “What is it?” His voice was coarse, again from the intense coughing.

    “It’s… It’s a sign you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same for you.”

    “Love?” His eyes widened as he repeated the preposterous word, “L-Love, you say?”

    He pulled his hand away from you, letting the bloody petals fall to the floor. You looked at him pleadingly before he coughed some more, slapping the tea from the counter and spilling it everywhere.

    “What a useless emotion!” He screamed, “Love!? That’s what’s gotten me weaker?!”

    “Does it anger you that you can love?”

    He clicked his tongue before pushing you away, wondering what in the world he was even doing there in the first place. He had gotten to know who you were, he had gotten to know what your deal was and yet—every part of him wanted more. It was quiet desperation that he couldn’t quite understand or grasp to his fullest capabilities, and this inadequacy left him aching on the inside. You stared at him before pursing your lips, what more could you tell someone who refused to believe that no one could be broken enough to not love?

    “Your anger and emotional outbursts usually result when someone penetrates to the core of what you don’t like about yourself or still cannot accept.”

    “Get rid of it,” Akutagawa threatened, “Get rid of this… this thing!”

    You wondered if he knew what he was talking about. Did he even know where these emotions came from? Did he even know why he was feeling this way? Had he ever acknowledge that he could feel love for another person? You slowly got up from where you were pushed to and let out a shaky breath.

    “Akutagawa-san…” You began, “There is a way to remove it.”

    “Good. What is it?”

    “The person has to love you back.”

    “How useless—“

    You threw yourself at the man before noticing him turn fiercely rigid. While it was miraculous that he didn’t outright push you away, it was also a tad bit disappointing that he stood as if was waiting for it to be done. The first time you saw Akutagawa’s face, you had seen that he was someone who was constantly running. Either from his past, from his pain, or toward a goal he would never reach, Akutagawa’s journey revolved around his own imperfection. It was a desire that dug so deeply into you that it gave you every right to see yourself in them. After all, you had broken off such ties after your father’s demise. Yet, no part of you, physical or otherwise, had forgotten what killing had done to you. It had robbed you from a chance to live a regular life, and here was another person, going through the very same thing.

    However, to see that he had developed a disease that proved limerence in such a deep context could only mean that there was still hope left for you as well. After all, it was the deeply broken that knew how to love best. For they knew what was constantly at stake, and they know the pain of devastating loss. Pulling back, you made a vow to yourself. If you eventually did become a doctor, if you eventually did end up saving more lives than you had ended in the past, it must and should begin with Akutagawa. Because only then could you truly save yourself.

    “I’ll help you,” You said, earnestly, “I’ll make it happen.”

    Kindness, as worthless as he believed it was, did not assist in making someone stronger. It never worked with him, it never persuaded him as much as hate and pain did, yet, there was something to intoxicating about kindness that made him crave for more. As he looked into your eyes, Akutagawa saw a radiance he had only dreamt of seeing before; a radiance he had grown to believe did not exist in the world, a radiance he had attempted to protect in the past. Inching closer, Akutagawa felt the constricting in his chest increase as he closed the distance between you and him, yet, he paused. He couldn’t move a step further. You smiled a second later before holding his hands, bloody and messy, it didn’t look like you cared.

    “So, who is this person?”

*

The next time Akutagawa saw you, he wasn’t expecting to see you. A careless slip in a battle deemed him worthy of a strong injury; he was distracted by the lilacs he had been coughing out and didn’t see an incoming blow, which scraped him at his left hip—missing the bone. While he knew he could allow Higuchi to help him, every part of him ached for you. Pushing aside Higuchi, he got into the streets walking toward your apartment. He remembered the way as if it were the back of his hand, and it led him to you, painstakingly. He wanted to move faster, he wanted to see your face despite knowing that the injury wouldn’t necessarily kill him. After all, you had said you’d help him.

   The person has to love you back, you had said; and how ironic that was. Akutagawa went chasing after people who would constantly deem him inadequate; he would never be enough, and that was what this disease was telling him. It was practically ending his life because he would never be enough—and what more proof would he need? Every inch of his body craved for another and yet, the other person knew nothing of his growing limerence. It was killing him and yet, there was nothing that could save him except his own demise. What an ironic way to die, he thought, as he reached your door. You had fixed it the day after he had broken it down, and ever since, he believed that reaching you would require him to use a softer approach. Soft like your skin—the very same skin he had bruised the first time he had touched it.

    You opened the door and your eyes instantly widened; Akutagawa took one step further, but your arms wrapped around him before pulling him to your chest, his chin landing on your shoulder, your hands wrapped around his back. You could feel his heavy heartbeat before dragging him to your bed. Just as you were about to remove his jacket, he stopped you—not allowing you to touch it.

    “I…” His raspy voice scared you, “I… don’t want to hurt you.”

    “How would you—“

    He didn’t let you finish and simply removed the jacket himself, before laying on the bed; you carefully placed the jacket around the chair and got to work on Akutagawa. You carefully removed the shirt that was stained with his blood before bringing in all the required materials needed to clean his wound first. You didn’t hear a wince from him the entire time, knowing full well that it would sting him beyond belief. It was as if he was used to the pain, and wasn’t moving because somehow this pain had been familiarised. You felt your heart go out for him, but your hands continued working on his wounds. You sat beside him to his left, where the wound was, and continued dressing the large gash, before momentarily feeling his right arm grasp your wrist. You looked up to find Akutagawa staring into your eyes, some sort of pleading look embedded in them.

    “Does it hurt?”

    He shook his head before freeing you, and it was then you realized how soft his touch actually was. Unlike the last time when he had bruised your wrist, Akutagawa’s touch was almost feather like; they say soft feathers cannot make a cruel bird kind, but Akutagawa had led his entire life believing he was nothing but cruel and it took him one touch, just one touch at your wrist to learn that he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was the wound that was making him think this way or if he was finally seeing things clearly, but the view he had by sitting right beside you, gazing into your form as you cleaned his wound, was the only thing he believed he’d want to see for the rest of his life. Dazai’s approval meant squat if it meant being able to sit beside you in absolute silence; if life allowed him to meet you, learn of your existence and perfection, then there was some redeeming quality in him that gave him the right to be sitting by you.

    “Doesn’t hurt.” He said, truthfully, before feeling the urge to want to touch you more. He wanted to be touched by you, and hopefully, he wouldn’t push you away as he had before. He wanted nothing more than to be gentle, feel your hair between the pads of his fingers, watch you as you studied, wrap you in his arms gently if he ever saw you crying again—Akutagawa wanted to wholeheartedly detach his anger whenever you were around and it was your existence that gave him the confidence that it was possible.

    “I…” You said, “I don’t know your full name.”

    “Akutagawa Ryunosuke.”

    You gulped before pursing your lips.

    “Is it okay if I call you Ryuu?” He blinked at you, “L-Like when we’re alone! I mean… I’m not saying I don’t like your name, I… just… well, you can call me (y/n), if you’d like! I just… I think… I like—“

    “Do as you wish.”

    You smiled a bit before taking the bandages in your hands. With the sound of your heart pounding the way it was, Akutagawa didn’t realize that it had been roughly 2 hours since he had last coughed out flowers. Perhaps, the pace with which it slowed meant something. Perhaps, it didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to tell for a while at least.

*

On odd days, Akutagawa found that his cough was getting better; a sign that presented him with an emotion he once believed was dead in him—hope. He remembered your words loud and clear that this disease called for the person he was in love with return his emotions for him to stop dying. However, the cough didn’t entirely stop. During nights when he missed your presence greatly, Akutagawa’s coughs were enhanced—lilacs poured out of his chest like a clogged waterfall let free, and his eyes stung with the intensity with which he remained a trembling mess of a person he thought he was. Despite learning to accept his emotions for you, on nights like these, Akutagawa was reminded of how weak he truly was, of Dazai’s harsh words for him that were imprinted in his very soul, of how inadequate he felt to even earn a disease such as this. When his hands shook, he felt the fear of dying—not of losing his life, but of never being able to see you again. And thoughts like this left him skirmish, it left him aching for his past-self, where he had never met you, where he wouldn’t have had to face such a metamorphosis that ridiculed him in such a manner.

    Akutagawa was not used to hoping for love, he was only, in every right, a giver. He chased after everything he thought he deserved, yet never realized that chasing it was never the right way for him to attain it. On nights like these, where he begged for a power that would rid him of his emotions for you, he’d wake up regretting those very words for the prospect of being able to see you, protect you, stay by your side and earn your precious silence. Some part of him always yearned for something that enveloped him not in a sense of passion but a calm care. Akutagawa needed someone he could rely on to not always expect him to perform or achieve some standard. Someone who saw how quiet he was and respected it. Not that no one ever had, Gin had always admired his tenacity and intrinsically quiet nature. It was the expectation that his life now put on him that broke him, more than just a little.

    The next day poured onto him excruciating pain. His chest and throat burned, and he could barely open his eyes. His sister who was living with him knew that his coughing had reached a dangerous point, yet she knew that meddling with his affairs would infuriate him more. Yet, the worry seeped out of her and she forced herself to barge into his quarters and at least ask him what she could do. It wasn’t like him to take a day off from work, but in his current state, even standing up could be a challenge.

    “Nii-san,” She voiced, “Is there something I can do? Someone I can bring who can take a look at—“

    “No. Get out.”

    Gin pursed her lips before walking away quietly, recalling with everything she had if there was someone she had seen her brother speak to who could help. She contemplated calling Chuuya, or anyone else from the Black Lizard, but involving the Mafia would only anger her brother in more ways than one. Taking in a deep breath, she found herself walking toward her favorite cafe, wanting to bring back some tea for her brother—the tea she knew he enjoyed. Calming chamomile tea always soothed him, rid his anxieties, which might even assist in his coughs. While she had no idea the origin behind those coughs, she knew they were different from the regular tickle in his throat.

    On reaching the cafe, she felt a mild tap on her shoulder, which she knew must have alerted her beyond belief, but the person whose eyes she landed on caused Gin to blink with confusion. She had seen you before, but she couldn’t understand where. You looked at her with an awkward expression, a quiet sort of worry seeping out of your bones.

    “I… I know you’re acquainted with Akutagawa-san? I was… Well, I wanted to know how he’s doing?”

    Gin’s eyes widened. Were you a friend of her brother’s? Not that she wasn’t surprised with her brother having a friend in the first place, especially that friend being a regular girl like you. She contemplated letting you know that her brother’s condition was deteriorating at a quicker pace than she had ever thought, but wondered if it was the right thing to do. What would Ryuunosuke want her to do? What would she do? Pausing for just a moment, Gin realized she was thinking too hard. She’d now do what any sister would.

    “He’s not doing so well,” She spoke honestly, “If… If you can come take a look, I think he’d appreciate it.”

    When your eyes widened with horror, Gin knew she may have done the right thing. You bit your lip and nodded, before following her out of the cafe; she led you to their shared apartment before also slipping in that she was his sister and not anyone you’d have to think too hard over. You blushed when Gin made it clear but refused to speak about it. Once inside, Gin nodded before leaving to work, knowing full well that her presence was no longer required. You jumped when you heard violent coughing coming in from a room with a closed door, and you slowly approached it, your heart pounding rapidly; however, just when you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, blinding you and depriving you of focusing on any other senses, your hands stilled before they could reach the doorknob. Sudden silence enveloped the room, and it slowly made sense to you on what was going on. With the way he was avoiding you these few days, with the way how he suddenly turned soft toward you, with the way Akutagawa helped you—your mind spat at you for never seeing it before. Tears filled your eyes before you realized that his disease was your fault, in almost every possible way, and instead of blaming you, he was taking it on himself.

    “Ryuu?”

    Akutagawa froze on the bed where he lay before staring at the ceiling. With the rapidity of his growing coughs, he was almost sure that you would never return his affections; he didn’t even want affection, in the first place. What Akutagawa wanted and needed never intersected, they were parallels that would never meet, yet somehow you were now standing opposite his door, calling him by a name no one would dare call him by.

    And the strangest thing of all, he let you.

    “What are you doing here?” Violent coughs only made his voice sound weaker than he felt, and he hated every second of it.

    “Can I come inside?”

    “How did you get here?” He sounded angry now, almost raging.

    “Please,” His heart ached when you pleaded. He’d give you anything in a heartbeat, but he couldn’t understand why this was so hard, “I want to see you.”

    His eyes widened. You wanted to see him? While it didn’t make sense, no reply from him gave you the assurance you needed to enter the room he was in, and the second his eyes fell on your form, Akutagawa felt breathless. He couldn't take his gaze from you. Your wide, wondering eyes were like soft midnight, star-glittered with forgotten tears. The curves of your body looked firm and sweet, nothing but inviting, sensual softness. If you were his... he might finally have the sense of ease other men had. No more spending every minute of the day striving and hungering and never feeling sated. But, was that even possible?

    “The hanahaki disease,” You began, standing a few feet away from him, “It’s when you love a person who doesn’t feel the same,” He could hear your voice tremble, and he felt like scum for letting it get here, “I’m not sure entirely but…”

    If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

    And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

    “Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

    A fool’s curse, he had deemed it—love was nothing but just that. He was a dark, damaged individual with a past that deemed him unworthy of your gaze, of your silence, of your soft fingers grazing his hair in dreams that felt forbidden to even wake from; Akutagawa wondered why it was that he even fell for you, in such a short duration of time, with limited interaction, with wordless conversations. And yet, the answer hit him. He didn’t need much from you, only a smile. A smile from your callous eyes, eyes that were like how his once were; and when he was someone who couldn’t smile the way you did, you had won over life in a way he never had. This sight—this very sight of your victory over a life that had deemed you unworthy, captured his heart. In you, Akutagawa saw every single desire that he had locked away, that he had deemed irrational and asinine. And you wore the irrational and asinine parts with pride.

    When he didn’t answer, the answer came to you. Tears leaked down your eyes as you reached forward and combed his hair, feeling him tense under your touch. Akutagawa wasn’t touch-starved, he didn’t starve for something he had no idea about. Yet, when your fingers skimmed through his hair, the need to breathe followed quickly after. He shut his eyes and leaned into your touch almost instinctively, before feeling you wrap your other hand around his neck and pull his head to your chest. You stood beside him as he sat on his bed, his head resting on the valley of your breasts. Your hold tightened and Akutagawa felt like he could die right then and there would be no regrets.

    “Ryuu…” You cooed, rubbing your hands in his hair. You smelt divine, almost intoxicating and he wondered if opening his eyes would have you disappear. You pressed your chin to the top of his head and he felt so ridiculous, he wondered if he should push you away or pull you closer. You answered his question by bringing yourself closer anyway, pressing your nose to his hair.

    “I’m so sorry,” You said, tears leaking out of your eyes. “I love you! I do! I love you so much!”

    Akutagawa’s eyes widened, before he turned, only to be pressed into your chest more. He calmly lifted one of his hands, touched your arm and pushed you away slightly, and noticed your drenched face. He looked at you like you were a fool, before shaking his head.

    “You said I’ll stop coughing once the person I—“

    “Yeah—“

    “I haven’t stopped coughing.” He said, eyeing you like you were a liar.

    You shook your head before throwing your hands softly against either of his cheeks; you could see them turning red, but you didn’t mind.

    “That was because you truly believed I couldn’t return your feelings, Ryuu. How will your disease know I love you if you don’t believe it first?”

    Was it truly that simple? It marveled him at how much of a moron you were, feeling love for a murderer like himself, but you were crying for him—you were miraculously here in his apartment, holding him like your life was dependent on it. He was no fool, and he never really pushed aside what his eyes were seeing, so while he was slowly becoming aware that you returned his feelings, he wanted to scold you for the dumbest choice you had ever made. Yet, instead of doing any of that, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke did something else that took your breath away.

    Reaching forward, he grazed the pads of his fingers across your cheek, wiping a stray tear that threatened to fall lower, and he tried smiling. Callous eyes and a hopeful smile—the only thing that got him to fall for you, Akutagawa now tried his best to return it, knowing full well he owed you at least that much. Your eyes widened at the sight he presented you with before you placed a shaky hand on his that was on your cheek. Leaning into his touch, you wondered if two broken people could ever love, yet, with the way he was smiling right then, you would be damned if you came close to calling him broken.

    Leaning forward, boldly, you placed a kiss on his head, causing his eyes to turn to saucers with the unfamiliar action. You felt him tense up once again, and you held him close despite that, knowing full well that whatever was foreign to him wasn’t essentially bad, all you had to do was familiarise Akutagawa to love and he would learn to accept it better. Looking up, he pulled you down from the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours—you could feel how dry they were, yet, that didn’t stop you from kissing him back. You could feel his hands tremble with the way he was holding you, not used to pressing softly, yet hard at the same time. When Akutagawa pulled apart from you a few moments later, it felt as if he was breathing for the first time. You allowed yourself to sit beside him now, enveloping the silence around you as if it were a comforting blanket. He looked at you so gently, slipping his arm around you and stroking your hair with a movement so soft you wondered if he realized he was doing it. He was capable of such softness that it presented as a strength instead of what he truly believed it was.

*

Nakahara Chuuya often finds himself in strange wine stores, looking for the wine he knew he could spend money on, wine more expensive than the one he had bought previously, keeping up with a mental game with himself. Walking out of the store, he spotted you—someone he believed he’d never see again, wearing a sundress and hair done up in a complicated plait that had you looking cute if he were being honest. He shook his head before focusing on getting home and drinking to some food, but just as he turned away, he turned back to you with wide eyes, almost dropping the wine he had bought, but he was glad he had his ability to prevent that from happening.

    What the f*ck? Chuuya thought when he saw Akutagawa slip his hand in yours, in a movement so casual that it seemed almost out of character for a rapid dog to act like a Labrador in love. You smiled at Akutagawa who returned half of it before Chuuya wounded if he was looking at Akutagawa at all in the first place. A moment later, he noticed the man slip his arm around your waist before leading you away from the area, in such a nonchalant yet casual manner that it left bewildered Chuuya to just stand there with his mouth ajar and heart raging. How the f*ck does that runt have a lover? Chuuya’s thoughts weren’t jealous, or even close, but it was a pure shock that left him jaw-dropped.

Well, whatever, he thought, before heading home, reminded thanks to Akutagawa and his new girlfriend that Chuuya was to drink alone that night. Again.

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