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inherstars · 1 year

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Character Profiles | The Remnant Choir

I have role-played angels variously throughout the years, in different settings. The most recent one involved a post-apocalyptic war between "good" and "bad" angels (the good angels being those who sided with mankind and were helping them to survive a war raging against them). It mostly took place in Atlantic City, where the casinos had been converted into a kind of large refugee camp for both humans and angels. I recently dredged this up again in my head, and threw together the following character which have been happily living there rent-free (now with helpful illustrations thanks to Midjourney and a LOT of tweaking and revisions!)

Belael (Above left or top, depending upon how you're viewing this. Affectionately "Bel") is an angel of the choir of Powers, the melee warrior class. Like all Powers he’s built for sheer, brute strength -- exceptionally tall, deep-chested, and broad-winged. His wings (pictured white here, I couldn’t get the AI to adjust them so I may need to Photoshop them later) are largely brown with steel blue underfeathers. His weapon of choice is a massive morningstar mace, but he also has a dedicated broadsword.

Belael was a force to be reckoned with during the First War -- sheer, walking destruction. He was the first on the battlefield and the last to leave, cutting an unstoppable, bloody swathe through his enemies. He was earmarked for general from early on, and offered frequent promotion through the ranks, but politely demurred each time. Despite his proficiency he had little love for actual fighting, and certainly none for command. He just enjoyed being a good, loyal, obedient soldier. Following orders gave him a sense of peace and satisfaction, even if he wasn’t always thrilled with what he was ordered to do.

In point of fact he’s an easy-going, languorous sort, and prefers a more quiet, calm and contemplative day to day existence, though his love for structure and discipline abide. He likes having a job and a role to fill, including being told when he should go off duty.

When he defected from heaven he encountered Gilde (Gildrael, above right or bottom), a senior Archangel who had moved into a suite at one of the hotels in (post apocalyptic) Atlantic City, NJ and was enjoying a leisurely, MILF-ish retirement of laying out by the pool and drinking cocktails. Lots and lots of cocktails. Gilde was sympathetic to Belael’s exhaustion with war, and took him under her wing (so to speak) as a bodyguard, escort and personal companion.

The arrangement, and the relationship, suit them both well. Though he remains a somewhat laconic stoic, and probably deals with some level of PTSD from his time in battle, it’s obvious that he’s comfortable and happy with Gilde’s companionship, and the structure and discipline that she provides. She may or may not be fucking his brains out; she is purposely coy about that aspect of their relationship, and although Bel is agreeable and receptive to her casual physical affections when they’re in public, he is the truest sort of gentleman to outside observers.

Zeroael (Above left or top, depending upon how you're viewing this. Affectionately "Zero") is an angel of the choir of Dominions, a born strategist and tactician. He has a natural aptitude for statistics, logistics, and numbers. Even if he didn’t want to be, any discussion that involves planning can draw him into a brief but intensely focused state of working out connections and possibilities, so as to determine the most efficient and beneficial outcome. It’s hard-wired into his brain.

During the First War Zeroael was a courier, only involved in the occasional mid-air skirmish. Owing to his smaller size (he stands about 5’6” or 5’7”, with a swimmer’s more lean, muscular build), he was an exceptionally swift and maneuverable flyer. His wings are pure white, but sharply angled and peregrin-like in shape. At the height of the war he was one of the few angels capable of close-quarters turns and acrobatics.

During one such evasive mid-air maneuver, he was struck to the ground by a much larger and more aggressive Throne, fracturing his skull and sustaining a mild TBI. He recovered, in time, but the injury left him with some occasional vestibular balance issues and -- more problematically -- sporadic grand mal seizures.

The seizures aren’t incredibly frequent, but unpredictable. After repeatedly injuring his wings during some of the early seizures, he was outfitted with a strap-style harness that holds them in a closed and folded position on his back. He can put it on and remove it fairly easily, but is in the habit of wearing it all the time, viewing it as a necessary prosthetic for his own safety.

After sustaining the injury, the generals simply had no idea what to do with an angel who could no longer safely fly. He eventually left, of his own volition, joining the “fallen” choirs who had come to live on post-apocalyptic Earth. He’s since traded his armor and weaponry for the comfort of blue jeans, baseball caps and button-downs.

Although he eschews any true command, he has long since come to be the defacto “leader” of the Angel and human colony currently living out of the casinos in Atlantic City. He is the chief organizer and logistician of almost every aspect of its day to day operation, answering only to the little-seen and often out of touch Seraphim who are its true overseers. He works long, exhausting days that begin well before dawn and end late at night, finding it easier to deal with his disability when he’s too busy to have to think about it at all.

Although he seems somewhat humorless and tense to those that work with him, it’s really just a side-effect of having to manage a huge number of people and juggle their needs and safety. He’d like to kick back and have a beer like anyone else, but something always needs to be done, or fixed, or sourced, or some new emergency is coming over the horizon. Whether or not he wants to, he’s always thinking about all of it. Someone is always looking for him, or needs to have a word with him, and he does his best to make sure everyone is heard, even at his own expense.

Although he’s on “flight restriction”, on his rare days off he does try to find a remote beach where he can work on some of his old aerial maneuvers, trying to make sure he doesn’t completely lose the muscle strength necessary for flight. He does worry that one day he’ll be hit by a seizure while he’s in the air, but in general tries not to think about it. The seizures have happened, and will continue to happen, in evidence of others, and he he is matter-of-fact and dispassionate in explaining it to others, and what to do if he happens to have a seizure. Just the same, for many reasons it’s a humiliating experience, and has led him to feel alone and emotionally isolated, particularly from other angels.

Lately he has become aware that one of the younger angels, Myriel (above right or bottom), has been making excuses to deliver things to him, or talk to him, or offer help with whatever project he’s currently neck-deep in. He finds her company pleasant, but can’t fathom why the hell she has any interest in being entrenched in the chaos that always surrounds him. The idea that she might have a crush on him is not even remotely on his radar.

Gilde is constantly, and without success, reminding Zero that he needs to chill the fuck out and find some time to relax. Maybe take up drinking. Maybe get fucked once in awhile.

Absolom (affectionately "Abe") is an angel of the choir of Thrones, and was a soldier in Lucifer’s army created toward the beginning of the Second War. He “drank the Kool-Aid” early on, as any good soldier, but over time came to realize that he not only didn’t hate mankind, he didn’t really feel like they deserved to be wiped out of existence. As skilled a fighter as he was, he was tired of murdering those of his own kind and what he perceived as innocents, and eventually defected.

Although he went to live in the casino colonies in Atlantic City, many were -- and still are -- unwilling to accept him. The angels see him as a traitor and the humans are terrified of him, having seen far too many angels just like him slaughtering their kind. He has no idea how to interact with humans at all, and worries that even friendly overtures come off as threatening. It’s also strange trying to form interpersonal relationships with angels who don’t share the common goal of wiping out all of humankind, so he spends a lot of time by himself, sorting out who he really is and what he wants from this new life.

Myriel befriends Absolom, and is the first to show true trust in his better nature, guiding him patiently through the first steps of being something other than a minion.

They become fast friends, and he often looks to her for guidance when it comes to interacting with others, or how best to handle certain social situations. He enjoys her company, no strings attached, and while he senses she has “feelings” for the Dominion named Zero he doesn’t really grasp what that means. Feeling anything besides either anger, ambivalence or estrangement is a new concept to him, and one with which he struggles.

Absolom had never been sick a day in his life until he came to Earth. Suddenly he was surrounded by all kinds of unfortunate things to which he had zero immunity, and spent the first several months of his Earthbound existence sick with every single head cold, chest cold and sinus infection that he came across.

He was NOT A FAN, and it took quite a lot of convincing from Myriel for him not to say fuck all of this and all of you and go back to the happy place where his nose was not constantly stopped up with or leaking something disgusting. He also spent a lot of those first few months complaining bitterly, which did not help people like him any better.

#ocs #character profiles #angels

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oliverpdaniel · 1 year

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Advent of Code 2022: Days 11-14

This is going out on December 20. Why, then, does this post only contain my notes for days up to the 14th, you ask? Well, because AoC haaaaaaaaaard. As of writing, I still haven't progressed past Part 1 of Day 15. But, I'm officially done with both school and work for the semester, so I'm gonna have a little bit of time and energy to tackle these, alongside the myriad other tasks I punted off until this time of year.

Please enjoy my writings while I suffer. I'm going to get all 50 stars this year, hard problems be damned!!!

Day 11

Every year, I expect there to be a Math Knowledge problem, and at least one "heat death of the universe" runtime problem. I didn't expect both of them to arrive on the same day, and so soon! In any case, I don't feel to bad about Part 2 being a two-seater here, nor about getting some insights from my much-mathier roommate. The most irritating part of the day was when I, not feeling up to optimizing my solution, just tried to chug my naive, OOP-based solution along while I took a shower. Well, I came back and it was finally done... except I'd forgotten to switch my input from the test data. Anyhow, the larger input would have taken even longer -- and may not have even terminated before running out of memory on my laptop. Whatever. Onward!

Day 12

Yup. This is why you don't talk a big game about your computer-sciencey brain when you *checks notes* dropped out of computer science during the plague. Although my fingers can practically write out DFS without my conscious intervention at this point, the test input was very cleverly formulated to make that take an unreasonable amount of time, so I was forced to open a Wikipedia tab with my tail between my legs. At this pont, I really ought to commit one of the UCS algorithms -- Dijkstra, A* -- to memory, even if exclusively for AoC problems.

Opening the subreddit revealed some interesting optimizations I could have done, like searching for the nearest a tile from the endpoint in Part 2, but... meh. Brute-forcing A* takes like two seconds on my machine, and I like pretty shiny stars more than that kind of yak-shaving. Speaking of, today better damn be a productive day for me if I want to keep on schedule to enjoy my winter vacation. What incentives lie in store for me over the winter? Why, the chance to work unimpeded on my portfolio site and side project, of course! What else would I be doing?

P.S. I will have to check with one of the more CS-y of my peers as to why my algorithm didn't work when the edge 'weight' between two nodes was 0 rather than 1 (as opposed to inf i.e., if the two nodes differed inadmissibly in altitude). And people on the subreddit are smack-talking using A* on this problem, so maybe I'm the dummy here.

Day 13

Today hit the trifecta of competitive-programming hackery: eval, match-case structures, and the walrus operator! Until I realized it wasn't actually necessary, I had a for-else loop in my comparison function for good measure, too. This morning's puzzles were much more manageable than the last few, and I'm pretty happy with the solution I came up with. Of course, years of Javascript dev have thoroughly rotted my brain: as soon as I saw that part 2 required sorting, and I had already written an (a, b) comparator, I thought I was done! Of course, these days Python doesn't use comparators, but rather a key. Luckily, a quick Google search (well, DuckDuckGo, because I'm like that) revealed that functools has a happy little cmp_to_key converter that made my life easy. No parsing and no custom logic: can every day be like this??

I'm quite curious as to what these nifty new match-case structures can do. I found it somewhat strange that the syntax for checking the type of values was an empty constructor in the case statement -- e.g., match a: / case int(): rather than the match type(a): / case 'int': I intuitively wrote. I'll have to see what the underlying logic is there. In either case, I've yet to really discover a use case where they're truly more useful than if structures (other than saving my precious fingies a handful of keystrokes), but I'm sure I will.

Day 14

An accidental midnight solve, which certainly would have gone more smoothly had I, y'know, not done that. A few things I'm proud of:

Recognizing pretty quickly that the inputs (i.e., walls) can be defined left-right or down-up, as well as vice versa. I made a simple smart_range helper that would prevent range from breaking if its start argument was greater than its stop.

My input-parsing is pretty baller, not gonna lie. Writing this writeup a few days removed from having written it, I'm slightly struggling to understand what it does! Itertools for the win.

Using a for-loop to represent falling, at the end of which was the "floor" of the sandpit.

I was a little bit scared of this one when I first saw it involved particle physics, but it turned out to be okay.

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

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meet me in the gardens

summary: being the widow of a decently wealthy lord and sitting on a large plot of land automatically meant that you were a candidate for the program that you couldn’t say no to; the hosting. you had to sponsor a knight and keep them in your home for an entire year, which was troublesome enough on its own. but you never expected your knight to be a woman, and you certainly didn’t expect to have a full on illegal love affair with her, either.

knight!natasha x lady!reader

sort of royalty au (there’s social hierarchy and a king and queen and knights and commoners and all that so- yeah it’s a royalty au nvm lmao)

warnings: this is fluff, angst, uh, basically everything but smut and serious angst.

word count: 2.5k, starting off short before we get into this

part one!

also, to the very few people who look for fics up here- i promise i’m alive, sorry for being m.i.a! work and school are bodying me right now

A lot could change within a year.

In a year, one was expected to grow wiser and older, and for you, because you were a woman, prettier. And because you did all three of those things in one year, you were herded off like cattle from your small farm, where the old pig you would soon be forced to call “husband” had seen you in the first place, and carted away to his large estate. You were supposed to be his wife, bear his children, and love him unconditionally even though you knew nothing about him, and he was supposed to do not even half of that for you. He had chosen you purely because your father had an abundance of wheat and animals, and he thought you were nice looking. He would surely never go hungry if he had the owner of a relatively large farm’s daughter with him.

Regardless of his reasoning for wanting to make you his wife, it ended up happening. You cried yourself to sleep the night before, and when you were done consummating the horrid marriage, you cried after he fell asleep, unable to shut your own eyes. That was how you spent your first night at the female counterpart to your lord husband, and as Lady Mirellis.

The marriage was loveless. The only thing you got out of it was a nice roof over your head and some silky clothing that made you feel like you were betraying who you really were. He was a brute and a pig, and he hardly ever spoke to you other than to tell you to get on your back, your knees, or something else as equally vile. You were the lady of his large manor, considered a small castle, but that was all you were. You made friends with the staff around, and that made things just the tiniest bit better. He was still cruel and crude, still insanely aggravating, and getting more and more angry with each month that you weren’t carrying his child.

And then, all of a sudden, he grew ill. And, within a month after he fell ill, he died. And then you were a single woman who had a large estate to her name, and a growing line of suitors who wanted nothing more than to have their last names attached to the great patch of land. You were the lady of the house without a lord, still young and still capable of marriage. After a large fuss over whether or not a young woman from your background was fit to take over, you had inherited everything.

So, yes, a lot could change in a year. And you decided that the changes that took place in that year were ones that you could barely handle.

§§

You knew exactly what the letter with the King’s Seal on it was when it was put into your hand, and you very easily guessed the contents of it.

You supposed that you should have seen it coming. Miraculously, your late husband and lord had gotten out of the Hosting, which could have been seen as treasonous or dishonorable if he had been any less careful. You grew up on a farm, and you had no idea how to go about denying or questioning royal decree, so you weren’t going to. You were going to have to Host, for the first time in your life.

Your family was never important enough to have to do it, so you had no experience with it, other than knowing that a high up lord of a small castle, or big estate, whatever one wanted to call it, was in charge of having a knight in their home while the knight completed his year long training. The training was said to come from within, and the job of the knight was to be a good, honorable guest, and to come back to the castle after their year expired as a new and improved person.

But it was rare that they truly soul searched, you had heard. Mainly because they were ninety nine percent male and thought with their penises more than their brains and hearts. The Hosting was a knight’s last stop before true knighthood, more or less a time that humbled young knights. It was a test of the true intentions of a knight, the true desires of a man who wished for glory and authority.

“For you, Milady.” You grimaced inwardly at the title, the title that you used to have to call the lady that you used to bring barrels of hay to on Sunday mornings. You nodded at the young boy, a smile on your face. He was new, and it was clear that this was his first task that involved him to speak to a “higher up” person.

You patted his head. “Thank you,” you said, and his eyes widened comically before he laughed and ran away, obviously shocked by the way you spoke to him back.

It wasn’t against the law, but it was frowned upon for nobles to speak to servants more than necessary. A noble person was not required to have manners or ask kindly for things, and when they did, it was certainly an out of the ordinary experience. You knew that well enough.

You broke the red seal and took in a deep breath, going to sit at your late husband’s desk (that you of course inherited, as you inherited everything the man had) and finding your name in perfect and Royal handwriting.

Lady Mirellis,

As you know, the time for the selection of The Hosting has come. Your house was not a host during the previous Hosting, therefore, you will be required to sponsor a knight this year. Out of respect for your late husband and all he has done for me, I will choose a knight for you, a knight that I trust. You will be safe with my choice, and the year will flow smoothly. Once again, I am sorry for your loss.

Please expect your knight within the fortnight, Lady Mirellis.

With respect, King Anthony Stark.

§§

Two weeks later, your keep was buzzing. You hated hosting things, even if they were short dinners. And you knew that you were going to hate hosting a person for an entire year. A brand new knight who was full of himself, no less.

King Anthony had given you what he thought was going to be an easy charge for a reason. New knights were known for being rowdy, disgusting, perverted, and authoritative when they shouldn’t have been. No lady should ever have to deal with the crude words or behavior of a man—certainly not. And with you and your poor husband gone, that meant that no one was there to help you.

You appreciated the kindness, but it was obvious that every man thought that women were only an extension of their husbands. If you weren’t able to handle the loud voices and taunting shouts of men and boys, you would have melted or turned to dust by the time you were thirteen years old. If you had survived a man who carted you off and away from your family like you were cattle, you could handle a boy who was staying under your roof.

Nonetheless, your people were busy, and so were you. They were making accommodations to the largest guest room, because it was to be someone’s for an entire year. They were cleaning things that you never thought would be cleaned, washing random sheets and hanging them to dry. And you? You were making the welcoming package.

You had never made one before, but you were trying your hardest. It was more or less a care package to make the knight feel comfortable. It was a starter kit, so that they wouldn’t have to ask for much or seem unfit for knighthood, because it was all about pride. So help anyone above, you wouldn’t be dealing with a knight with a bruised ego.

“Men,” you scoffed out, rolling your eyes as you fluffed the silk pillowcase and folded the top of the woven basket over, closing in everything and tying the top with a bow.

“Y/N,” a woman’s voice called out, and you turned to it with a gentle smile.

Of course it was Wanda. Her and her brother were always by your side, ever since you had arrived at the keep. Pietro was the messenger boy for Lord Mirellis, because he was so fast on his feet. He delivered a message meant to go hundreds of leagues away and came back within days, when it would take others weeks. You liked Pietro a lot. He was a funny man, cheeky, but he knew his boundaries with people, whether they were lowborn or highborn. He had the same amount of respect for everything, and you admired that about him.

Wanda however, was your favorite person in the castle. She was the first kind face that you saw when you walked into the keep. She was the first person to actually ask you if you wanted help being dressed or brushing your hair. She was able to see that you needed help with your corset before you even asked. There were so many trivial things that Wanda did for you that made you so loyal to the friendship you shared, but there was one thing you were sure to never forget.

She had been the one to help you out of bed after a rough consummation night. She was also the only woman who had offered you even a sliver of sympathy, and for that, she was your greatest ally, and on a deeper level, a true friend.

You had barely even seen her for more than five minutes before you woke up in bed by yourself the morning after that horrid night, crying silent tears and feeling sore between your legs. A knock sounded on the door, and instead of her turning away and apologizing for coming in on such an improper moment, she shut the door and asked you if you needed help, without any fear of being scolded. Wanda Maximoff was different. That’s why you liked her so much.

She was standing beside you as you waited, even though waiting for a knight was somewhat improper. You were supposed to wait inside and have them knock on your castle door, and you were to welcome them inside and have a warm dinner ready. That was how it was always supposed to go, but you decided not to do that.

You were standing outside, like the lady you had been forced to become. Your chin was slightly lifted and your hands were at your sides, even though you were desperate to fiddle with your thumbs. You took in a deep breath as you heard the sound of a carriage coming, horses and the chatter of men getting louder with each passing moment.

You would be a liar if you said that you weren’t scared to have a man in your house that you didn’t know. Not only would he be a man, but he would be a man that knew how to do things that most didn’t, such as how to properly wield a sword. You were a woman alone, a widow to a lord, and people had tried things with you before, ever since your husband had died. Most of the time, those things ended up with their hands being cut off as the legal and unyielding punishment for their attempted crimes.

“No one here is going to let a stupid knight hurt you, you know.” Pietro had come out of nowhere, chest puffed out as he looked to his sister for a moment, and then back at you. “Wanda is practically with you every second of every day, and I’m never too far.” It was true. There were guards around, as well, but you were still scared.

“If you don’t like it this year, you can always say no next year.” Wanda offered, but you whined under your breath when you remembered that this was no visit. The man would be living with you for an entire year. “And King Anthony said he would be giving you a man he trusted to sleep under your roof. I trust his word.”

“As do I,” you said quickly, ringing out your hands one last time before the carriage got closer. “I’ll be fine, you two. Thank you.” And they knew just how grateful you were for them.

The carriage was being pulled by two white horses, both looking around carelessly and cluelessly as the coachman pulled them to a stop. “Lady Mirellis,” he said, looking you up and down, clearly judging you for not yielding to tradition. “It is very kind of you to meet us outside.”

“I thought it may be easier to begin the tour early,” you said, remembering at the last moment to school your voice into sounding ladylike. The stark difference between your public voice and the one that you spoke to Wanda and Pietro with always made Wanda smile a bit, and you knew that you would have laughed if you were looking at her. “I don’t want to give my new guest too large of a culture shock. I am not quite sure if he would appreciate being hoarded inside a place he hasn’t seen before.”

The coachman gave you an odd look, almost like he wasn’t understanding what you were saying. Or maybe, why you were saying it. But, he knew that because of your status, your word outweighed his, and he would do as you said. Your heart was beating nearly out of your chest as you watched him climb out of his chair and walk around, and you saw his hand wrap around the handle of the white and gold carriage.

There was a flash of brilliant red. That was all you saw at first, and then you saw shiny armor, glinting in the sun. Your eyes trailed up from the shoes that you knew were crafted specifically for knights, up to the legs and then to the breastplate, which you noticed was curved outwards. Your brows furrowed as your eyes got stuck in that place, and you willed yourself to believe that it was a trick of the eyes. There was a pinch on your arm, and you realized that you had been staring without speaking for much too long. In your embarrassment, your eyes flickered up to meet the man’s, and then, you nearly choked.

The knight was no man at all.

*****

so this is a series! this idea has been cooking up in my head for a while now, and i figured it was finally time to go through with it! i’m really excited about this one, and i’ve already got most of it planned out. i hope you guys liked this!

also- if you would like to be tagged, you are free to ask! (bold of me to assume that any of y’all want a notif for this bye 😭) please interact with this if you liked it, it makes me so happy and motivated to hear from you guys!

#natasha x female reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov fluff #natasha romanov x reader #knight au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanoff series #knight!natasha #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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cayofdreams · 3 years

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@mistressoflight asked: Just imagine you and Bakugou have been working together for a while and there’s all this sexual tension between you both because you’re afraid to act on your feelings for one another. Then one night at a friend’s gathering, you both are ogling each other. With a little liquid courage, you both decide to stop playing games and give into your feelings and have steamy makeout sesh which leads to y’all going back to your place for some good ol sexy times! 😁🙌🏾

~~~

YES!! We have the SAME BRAIN CELL!! 🤩🤩🤩

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: exhibitionism, making out, groping

He had a love-hate relationship with alcohol.

Sometimes he hated it.

But not because of its bitter contents, but because of how his bitter thoughts turned sweet at the sight of you. In fact, before tonight, he didn’t mind its taste. One could even characterize him as a heavyweight when it came to drinking. And yet, right now as he sat not even 10 feet away from you, it seemed the few sips he’d taken from his beer were already making him putty.

Though if he were being honest with himself, his sweet thoughts for you began long before this stupid party. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for you became romantic, he just knew that they seemed to intensify with each passing day that you worked alongside him at the agency. Whenever you walked by, he lingered in the scent of you for as long as he could. Whenever he saw you smile, he begged for a way to photo-capture the moment with just a blink. And when you laughed, fuck- if only he could record each snorty giggle so he’d be able to listen to it whenever he felt down.

Perhaps these thoughts of you would be manageable if they were always so innocent.

But now that he had grown more into himself, and allowed himself to feel things that high-school-him would always block out, Bakugou had grown an abysmally deep desire to have you wrapped prettily around his cock.

Those scents that wavered off you would become drenched in his own as he smothered himself on top of you. That smile that decorated your beautiful lips would circle in a lovely ‘O’ as you felt the stretch of him plunging inside you. And that cute little giggle of yours would turn into cock-drunken moans as he drove you into euphoria with each orgasm.

Such debauched thoughts would plague him at every moment you were in his vicinity. He could blame it on the alcohol all he wanted tonight, but he knew these thoughts would only resurface with more vigor when he saw you the next morning.

“Fuckin’ beer...”

“What was that, Bakugou?!” Kirishima caught his low grumble as he plopped down next to him on the couch. “I thought that was your favorite brand!”

“Well it tastes like shit tonight!” Bakugou stood up, turning to go towards the kitchen. “There better be another kind in there, Shitty Hair.”

“Yeah, dude! There’s plenty!”

Bakugou grumpily walked to the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door to peek inside at the alcoholic contents. He must’ve been absent-mindedly reading the labels for too long because he suddenly heard a familiar voice ring out from behind him.

“Can you pass me a [redacted] while you’re down there?”

Despite your dreamy vocals rumbling pleasantly in his ear, he sucked his teeth as he slammed the door.

“Get it yourself, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes at the retort before gliding yourself in front of him to reopen the refrigerator door. “So rude. You looked so bored, I thought I’d give you a task.”

Usually one to continue the banter, he became more enthralled at how your ass looked so perfect as you bent down to look at the assortment of chilled alcohol. He wondered how erotic the sound would be if he slapped his hand against it. Would it sound as sexy as your moans? How much would your flesh jiggle at the impact? Surely the sight would be just as appetizing as your smile.

“Hmm...I don’t see it here. I can’t believe they didn’t get any.” You squatted down to look at the alcohol on the bottom level. Your thighs flexed at the maneuver, slightly parted to balance yourself. Bakugou sipped from his ‘shitty’ beer as he gazed at your plush skin protruding from your skirt. “I guess I’ll just have this.”

Picking up a random bottle, you cracked it open taking a nice gulp. Bakugou saw the liquid go down your throat and he couldn’t help but imagine how smoothly- or unsmoothly you’d swallow his cum. A small smirk graced his face as he saw your face scrunch at the apparent bitter taste.

“Heh- You can’t even take a little bit of beer? Fuckin’ weak.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Hey! I ain’t no fuckin’ hypocrite, princess.”

Your body quivered at the raspy sound of the nickname. It wasn’t his first use of the bitterly sweet name, but you blamed the fact that you’d already had a beer or two on the reason for the rush of ‘adrenaline’ surging through you.

You lifted a shaky middle finger at him. “Hypocritical brute.”

Bakugou instantly took hold of your finger before wrapping his calloused hand around yours. He pushed you against the counter as he looked sternly into your eyes. “I might be a brute.”

Your heart pounded maniacally inside your chest. A matching throb with the pulsating inside your panties. Why were you reacting like this? For Ba-KA-gou? It just had to- HAD to be the beer. A lie you told yourself as you weakly pushed your free hand against his chest. “G-Get off. You’re ugly up close.”

Bakugou leaned more into you, moving his other hand up to grasp your cheeks. He could see the twitching of your eyebrows, the little trembles of your lips as you tried to avoid eye-contact. Your cheeks started to feel increasingly warm against his fingers as he glared at you.

Chuckling, he forced you to turn your head, getting a better look at how your face became so flustered at his motions. You finally met eyes with him and his heart seemed to skip a beat at how your e/c looked so prettily at him. “Back at ya.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the reply as you parted your lips to land another insult. But before you could say anything, you felt the hot touch of his lips smashing against yours. His kiss was messy, wet with his saliva and the remnants of beer in his mouth. You let out little whimpers as you continued to meekly push him away.

You wanted this. And you hated it.

Bakugou used one leg to lock you in place so he could freely explore your body with the hand wrapped around yours. He squeezed at your waist, adoring the moan that hummed against his lips. Sliding his hand down, he reached under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass. The firm squeeze made you part your lips and he didn’t miss the opportunity to writhe his tongue between your lips.

As his tongue ravaged your mouth and his hand ravaged your plush ass, your leg naturally came up to wrap around his. Seeing this as an opening, he took both his hands to lift you up on to the counter. Breaking from the kiss, he leaned over to suckle at your throat. The hands at the sides of your ass came up to fumble at your clothed breasts.

“Fuck...Katsuki~”

With your eyes still closed in delirium, your hands came up to grab at the locks of his hair, pulling him more into you. “Such a fucking brat. How long have you been wanting this, huh?”

“L-Less than however long you’ve wanted this...”

A rush of air left his lips in a breathy laugh as he squeezed at your nipple from over your top. He could see the hardened tip despite your bra and his cock grew from within his underwear. Slipping a hand under your shirt, he grabbed at your breast before pulling the cup of your bra down. He molded his fingers into you, taking advantage of how fluffy and soft you were.

You felt so fucking smooth and delicate within his coarse hands. Even though you worked just as hard as him, it seemed to have no effect on your creamy skin. He twiddled at your nipple, pulling and twisting the bud to hear the various mewls escape your lips.

“Stop p-playing with it...”

“Why the fuck should I stop?” He grinned as his other hand went under your skirt to feel your clothed pussy. His thumb ran over the fabric, collecting a bit of the slick that had seeped through it. “Look how you’re reacting. You’re already so fucking wet.”

Curling his thumb over the crotch of your panties, he circled softly at your clit. Your hips squirmed over the counter as you weakly tried to escape the touch.

“K-Katsuki~ Wait...”

“Shut up. I’m not fucking waiting for you anymore.”

Smothering his lips over yours for another kiss, his fingers slipped under the band of your panties and started to pull them down. A more intense rush of desire overwhelmed you and you opened your eyes to look at what you finally ached for.

But instead you froze. Your eyes met the excitedly red, curious ones of Kirishima as Bakugou continued to press messy kisses at your jaw. Eyes widened like a deer in headlights, you instinctively pushed Bakugou off as you hopped off the counter.

“Fuck, what’s wro-” As he noticed the look of shock on your face and he turned around to see the person for the cause of it. “F-Fuck! What are you looking at?!”

“What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

“None of your fucking business!”

“H-Hey! You can’t say that!”

Bakugou continued to grumble as he blushed furiously at the current predicament. Whatever boner he had instantly leaving.

You adjusted your panties and smoothed out your clothes before grasping Bakugou’s hand and leading for the door. “Alcohol run.”

Exiting out the apartment, you intertwined your fingers with his.

“Okay let’s make this quick so we can go actually get more drinks. My place is close by.”

“Tch. Yeah right, we’re coming back for those losers.” He let go of your hand to give a light squeeze at your ass. “We have a lot of lost time to make up for. Get ready for a long night, princess.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou #bakugo #bakugo smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #🏰 mistressoflight kingdom #💘 KATSUKI

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ouyangzizhensdad · 3 years

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I just saw a post saying nhs has an inferiority complex and I'm?? Confused?? I always thought he was fine with being weaker in terms of cultivation, maybe I missed something

Hi anon,

I have to say, I struggle as well to figure out where people are getting this from the text. I think, oftentimes, people don't actually pay attention to what the text provides us in terms of characterisation as a whole, but take elements of what makes the character or which happens to them and simply extrapolate how they themselves would feel in that situation as a means of understanding the character. I can easily imagine how a reader would think: wow, if I had low cultivation in a world that values it (and within a clan that values strength even more so!) and a brother who was not only super strong and admired but who wanted me to fit into that role, and then found myself having to fill his shoes after his sudden death, I'd feel some sort of inferiority complex. I think that's the same reason you see so much people insisting WWX has self-esteem issues.

The thing about NHS is that, as a youth, we never saw him value high cultivation or "academic" achievements (not sure how to otherwise call his time at CR but there is probably a better word for it) or brute strength. He's afraid of consequences from his brother for failing at the CR, as we see here:

Although the brothers were not born from the same mother, their relationship was quite solid. Nie Mingjue had always taught his younger brother with extreme harshness, particularly caring for his studies. This was why, even though Nie Huaisang respected his older brother, he was the most scared of Nie Mingjue mentioning his schoolwork.

and here:

Although he didn’t understand a single bit as he listened in class, Nie Huaisang worked as hard as a slave when the date of the test approached. He copied Virtue two times for Wei Wuxian, and begged before the test, “Please, Wei-xiong, if my grade is lower than yi, my brother would really break my legs! Stuff like telling apart direct lineage, collateral lineage, main clan, clan branches… For us disciples from big clans, we can’t even distinguish our relationships with our own relatives, randomly calling everyone who are more than two tiers away from us aunts and uncles. Does anyone have enough capacity in their brain to remember those of other clans?!”

After thinking for a few moments, an expression of envy and yearning appeared on Nie Huaisang’s face, “To be honest, Wei-xiong’s words were quite interesting. Spiritual energy can only be obtained through cultivation and taking great pains to form a golden core (金丹). It would take I-don’t-know-how-many years to do, especially for someone like me, whose talent seems as if it was gnawed by a dog when I was in my mother’s womb. But, resentful energy are from the fierce ghosts. If they can easily be taken and used, it would be beyond wonderful.”

[...] . If disciple from a prominent clan forms the core at a later age, it would be a disgrace to tell other people of it, yet Nie Huaisang didn’t feel ashamed at all. Wei Wuxian also laughed, “I know, right? No harm comes from using it.”

The only moment that I can find that could tangentially be used to suggest that NHS has an inferiority complex could be this one, where NHS wants to avoid LXC's questioning about how his studies are going (and WWX picking up on his cues like a good friend to redirect the conversation). However, when you consider the whole context of the scene, it’s not because NHS feels self-conscious but because he’s afraid LXC is going to report to his brother that he’s not working hard at his studies:

Lan Xichen turned to him, “Huaisang, a while ago, as I returned from Qinghe, your brother asked of your studies. How is it? This year, will you be able to pass?”

Nie Huaisang replied, “Generally speaking, yes…” He seemed like a wilted cucumber, looking at Wei Wuxian in a helpless way. Wei Wuxian grinned, “Zewu-Jun, what are you two going out for?”

[...] Nie Huaisang also wanted to join in, but he had been reminded of his older brother as he met Lan Xichen. Cringing silently, he didn’t dare to have fun, “I’ll pass and go back so that I can review…” With this act, he hoped that Lan Xichen would put in some good words for him to his brother.

NHS seems very industrious at finding ways not to have to do anything that relates to cultivation or to leading a sect, and that is linked once more to the fact that he does not want to do these things (so not a case where we could say he’s self-sabotaging because he fears failure):

Lan Xichen took Nie Huaisang’s saber into his qiankun sleeve, “Huaisang has been using the excuse that he left his saber at home. Now he will have no excuses for lazing around.”

or here

“Nie Huaisang!”

Nie Huaisang fell at once.

He really did fall to his knees from the terror. He only staggered up after he finished kneeling, “D-d-d-da-ge.”

Nie Mingjue, “Where is your saber?”

Nie Huaisang cowered, “In… in my room. No, in the school grounds. No, let me… think…”

Wei Wuxian could feel that Nie Mingjue almost wanted to hack him dead right there, “You bring a dozen fans with you wherever you go, yet you don’t even know where your own saber is?!”

Nie Huaisang hurried, “I’ll go find it right now!”

[...]

In a hurry, Nie Huaisang dropped a few fans on the ground. Jin Guangyao picked them up for him and put them into his arms, “Huaisang’s hobbies are quite elegant. He’s dedicated to art and calligraphy, and has no propensity for mischief. How can you say that they’re useless?”

Nie Huaisang nodded as fast as he could, “Yes, Brother is right!”

Nie Mingjue, “But sect leaders have no need for such things.”

Nie Huaisang, “I’m not going to be a sect leader, though. You can be it, Da-ge. I’m not doing it!”

or here

Nie Mingjue was on the school ground, teaching and supervising Nie Huaisang’s saberwork in person. He did not acknowledge Jin Guangyao, so he stood at the edge of the field, waiting with respect. Since Nie Huaisang was quite uninterested and the sun was bright, he was rather half-hearted, complaining that he was tired after just a few moves. He beamed as he got ready to go to Jin Guangyao and see what presents he brought this time. In the past, Nie Mingjue would only frown at such things, but today he was angered, “Nie Huaisang, do you want this strike to land on your head?! Get back here!”

If only Nie Huaisang were like Wei Wuxian and could feel how great Nie Mingjue’s rage was, he wouldn’t grin in such a bold way. He protested, “Da-ge, the time is up. It’s time to rest!”

Nie Mingjue, “You rested just thirty minutes ago. Keep on going, until you learn it.”

Nie Huaisang was still giddy, “I won’t be able to learn it anyways. I’m done for the day!”

He often said this, but today Nie Mingjue’s reaction was entirely different from his past reaction. He shouted, “A pig would’ve learnt this by now, so why haven’t you?!”

Never expecting Nie Mingjue to burst out so suddenly, Nie Huaisang’s face was blank with shock as he shrunk toward Jin Guangyao. Seeing the two together, Nie Mingjue was even more provoked, “It’s been one year already and you still haven’t learnt this one set of saber techniques. You stand on the field for just thirty minutes and you’re complaining that you’re tired. You don’t have to excel, but you can’t even protect yourself! How did the QingheNie Sect produce such a good-for-nothing! The both of you should be tied up and beaten once every day. Carry out all those things in his room!”

The last sentence was spoken to the disciples standing by the side of the field. Seeing that they had gone, Nie Huaisang felt as though he was on pins and needles. A moment later, the row of disciples really did bring out all the fans, paintings, porcelain from his room. Nie Mingjue had always threatened to burn his room, but he had never actually burned them. This time, though, he was serious. Nie Huaisang panicked. He threw himself over, “Da-ge! You can’t burn them!”

Noticing that the situation wasn’t good, Jin Guangyao also spoke, “Da-ge, don’t act on impulse.”

Yet, Nie Mingjue’s saber had already striked. All of the delicate objects piled at the center of the field erupted in roaring flames. Nie Huaisang wailed and plunged into the fire to save them. Jin Guangyao hurried to pull him back, “Huaisang, be careful!”

With a sweep of Nie Mingjue’s hand, the two blanc de chine antiques shattered into pieces in his palms. The scrolls and paintings had already turned into dust in a split second. Nie Huaisang could only watch blankly as the much loved items that he had gathered throughout the years vanish into ashes. Jin Guangyao grabbed his hands to examine them, “Are they burnt?”

He turned to a few disciples, “Please prepare some medicine first.”

The disciples answered and left. Nie Huaisang stood at the same place, his entire body trembling as he looked over at Nie Mingjue, pupil encircled by veins. Seeing that his expression wasn’t right, Jin Guangyao put his arm around his shoulders and whispered, “Huaisang, how are you feeling? Stop watching. Go back to your room and have some rest.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes brimmed red. He didn’t even make a sound. Jin Guangyao added, “It’s alright even if the things are gone. Next time I can find you more…”

Nie Mingjue interrupted, his words like ice, “I’ll burn them each time he brings them back into this sect.”

Anger and hatred suddenly flashed across Nie Huaisang’s face. He threw his saber onto the ground and yelled, “Then burn them!!!”

Jin Guangyao quickly stopped him, “Huaisang! Your brother is still angry. Don’t…”

Nie Huaisang roared at Nie Mingjue, “Saber, saber, saber! Who the fuck wants to practice the damn thing?! So what if I want to be a good-for-nothing?! Whoever that wants to can be the sect leader! I can’t learn it means I can’t learn it and I don’t like it means I don’t like it! What’s the use of forcing me?!”

I'm not saying he didn't have a hard time during the first moment of him taking over a leadership role in the sect after the sudden death of his brother (ultimately we can wonder whether the yiwensanbuzhi persona originated then, as he could have felt overwhelmed and actually didn't have the answers needed for the position he didn't prepare for--or whether it was always a pure fabrication to serve his goals), but I don't think we can chalk it up to an inferiority complex.

In the past, Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang studied together, so there were a few things he could comment about this person. Nie Huaisang wasn’t an unkind person. It wasn’t that he was not clever, but that his heart was set somewhere else and used his smarts on other areas, such as painting on fans, searching for birds, skipping classes, and catching fish. Because his talent in terms of cultivation really was poor, he formed his core around eight or nine years later than the other disciples of the same generation as him. When he lived, Nie Mingjue was often exasperated by the fact that his brother didn’t meet his expectations, so he disciplined him strictly. Despite this, he still didn’t improve much. Now, without his older brother protecting and supervising him, under his lead, the QingheNie Sect declined day by day. After he grew up, especially after he became the sect leader, he was often troubled by all kinds of affairs unfamiliar to him and looked for helpers everywhere, mainly his brother’s two sworn brothers. One day he’d go to Jinling Tower to complain to Jin Guangyao, and the next day he’d go to the Cloud Recesses to whine to Lan Xichen. With the two leaders of the Jin and Lan Sects supporting him, he still barely managed to settle on the sect leader position. Nowadays, whenever people mentioned Nie Huaisang, although they didn’t say anything on the surface, the same phrase was written on their faces—good-for-nothing.

And after NHS pieced together what happened to his brother and set out on a path to revenge, I don't see how someone who is so sharp and deceptive and able to reach his goals while hiding behind a facade the entire time would feel "inferior".

#anon ask #nhs #mdzs #mdzs meta

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cummingforkylo · 4 years

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If your requests are still open, could you write a Kylo X Female Reader smut with inappropriate use of his lightsaber and just really rough, hot, and wild sex, with hair pulling, ass smacking, and then overstimulation from multiple orgasms? I just can't get over imagining Kylo fucking me senseless until I'm a wordless sweaty mess and cumming over and over and over again while sobbing and not being able to control cumming so much oh god help me I'm a mess for this man im so sorry ugh

I combined a bunch of these because they seemed to…fit together. I created a Frankenstein monster of a drabble. Its reallly long and its shameless fucking smut. I’ve spent the better part of my afternoon on it, I hope you like it!

BegRating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon?, inappropriate use of a lightsaber, nasty sex, shameless smut, name callingWord count: 2,865Prompt: You have dreams about the Supreme Leader, you didn’t realize he saw them.

You didn’t know Kylo Ren, you had only seen him, only heard the stories and yet, your dreams were always of him. You always woke sweating, your legs tangled up in the sheets, your underwear wet, your pussy throbbing from just…dreams of him. Dreams of his eyes on you, watching you, dreams of his hands caressing their way up your thighs. The dreams were filled with the sound of his deep, commanding voice and the buzz of his lightsaber. You hated yourself for it, but there was something about him, the anger, the brute force, the indifference to life that made you ache deep within. So you dreamt. You dreamt every night of what it might feel like. What he would feel like. Every morning you woke up still tired, and the dreams continued to weigh on your conscious mind throughout your days.

One night, things changed though, instead of waking up in the morning. You were brought to consciousness, out of your haze halfway through your sleep cycle. You were groggy but as soon as your eyes opened you could feel something different. Something off, something was wrong. You blinked and sat up, you thought you saw something but you couldn’t be sure. You told yourself you were just reacting to the dreams. You pushed yourself out of bed and went to your table to pour yourself water from the carafe. You stood there in your t-shirt and underwear and sipped your water, trying to calm down your racing thoughts and your excited body. That was when you saw him, Kylo Ren, standing by your door, his eyes trained on you. You nearly screamed but the sound stuck in your throat. You had just been dreaming about him and like a dark apparition, here he was. You swallowed thickly, trying to wet your bone dry throat.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped out, unsure if you needed to call him ‘sir’ when he was intruding on your room. His expression was amused as he raised his eyebrows,

“What are you doing dreaming about me?” He countered. Your insides went cold, it felt as though your vision tunneled as you stared at him and you realized he had seen or sensed your dreams. The fear coursed through your veins, sending icy shocks with it, but even as it did, it mixed with the heat that your dream had produced. The two fought with each other inside you, burning and cool. Fear and excitement. They mingled and became one thing inside of you, raging around.

“I…” You tried to speak and he rolled his eyes, he took the few long strides from the door to your table until he stood right in front of you. You backed up until you bumped into the table and he still came closer to you. In one fast movement he grabbed your hips and shoved you back so you were sitting on the table. “I-I…”

“You…you…you what?” Kylo asked mimicking the nervous way you had stuttered as you sat up on the table and stared into his eyes. You tried to rip yourself away from him, struggling to push back but he lifted his hand and involuntarily your arms snapped to your sides. Your hands felt like they were glued to the table, you tried to struggle against the invisible bonds but they seemed to get tighter and tighter the longer you struggled.

“Don’t you struggle with me, girl.” He snarled, still standing above you, staring down at you, his expression dark.

“Why not?” You snapped, “You’ve come into my room to…to..what!?” Your voice was ragged and you hated how scared it sounded.

“You dreamt of me.” His voice seemed to fill the room without even trying. The deep baritone reverberated inside of you, through your stomach, into your spine. “You wanted this, you begged for more in your dream. I’m merely fulfilling all your fantasies.” He said.

You whined and struggled, but it was a pathetic, feeble attempt to kick your feet. Kylo’s huge hand wrapped around your ankle, shoving it back so your foot was on the table to. Arms still trapped, unable to catch yourself, you fell back against the table knocking the carafe off with a loud clatter. He stood above you and you laid there with your back against the table, one foot up on the table while the other dangled. A sob escaped your chest and Kylo grabbed the other ankle and forced it back, setting that foot on the table too. You couldn’t struggle properly and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

“You have filthy dreams about your Supreme Leader and then want to pretend you don’t like it when it actually happens?” he asked, his hand stroked up your bare thigh in and almost…soft way. He wasn’t wearing gloves and his hand felt hot, and good. You found the will to struggle ebbing away, your legs twitched. You wanted more. There was a gush in your pussy, you were somehow getting wetter than you already had been from the dream. His fingers brushed up your thighs and then back down to your knees. It only took him pressing on the inside of your legs a little to get them to fall open and back. “See? You do want it.” He breathed.

You let out a whine and you looked up at him.

“Should we see how wet you got, dreaming about your superior?” he asked. You wanted to tell him no, you wanted to beg him not to pull your underwear off, it was humiliating and horrifying to even think of him doing it. You couldn’t pull those words out from yourself though, you couldn’t make yourself say it. You wanted it too much. Your whole body was nothing but want now. Your mind was going blank because of his touch, because of his words reverberating through your whole being. Kylo’s hands found the sides of your underwear and in a fluid motion he pulled them down and off of your feet. Automatically, your legs opened for him again and you watched an expression flicker across his face.

Dark power, a deep hunger, tinged with carnal lust crossed his face as you did what he wanted without even being told. His eyes focused on your exposed sex, and you burned with shame and pleasure. You could feel your lips parting and the wetness that blossomed at your entrance spreading over your lips. His fingers found your slit and he stroked his index finger down it, catching the wetness. Your body reacted instantly, you tensed at the feeling of his finger, finally on you. Just that one touch sent a spasm through your body.

“Slut, I’ve barely started and you’re already twitching.” He said. His finger slid back up your slit and then stopped. You shivered as you felt it resting against your clit. He didn’t move it, he just kept it there and looked down at your face. Your brow furrowed, your mouth opened and you stared at him.

“Will you do as I say?” he asked, that voice…the voice in your dreams, the voice that had sent chills all through your body for days. You knew you should say no. You knew you should have been fighting it but you couldn’t say no to that voice, especially with his finger on your clit. “It will make things easier if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Good.” He said and you knew that you had never really had a choice. Kylo’s finger stroked across your clit, and you gasped at the feeling. It sent sharp, hot, rods of pleasure shooting through your body and your legs twitched open even more, pulling back. His eyes dropped to your cunt and he watched as his finger delicately traced around your clit. Over and over you felt him make tight circles around that extremely sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe he would stroke you like this, so soft, gentle. It was pulling your orgasm towards the surface, you gasped and pressed your body forward towards his fingers.

“Ohhh! Yes…” You moaned. Kylo swiped his finger across your clit now, gentle strokes but unrelenting. You wanted to cum so badly, it was so close to the surface. All your dreams and his touch now was mounting inside of you.

“Would you like to cum?” his voice, almost bored, spoke to you from what felt like very far away. You nodded feverishly. “Beg.” He said simply.

“Please! Please…please, I want to cum so fucking badly. Please!” You whined. “Please! Fuck!” you pressed your hips up, needing more. Needing him to run his fingers across your little bud over and over until you could be released from this need. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please!” You gasped.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, slut. But no. You don’t get to cum.” He pulled his hand away from you and you gasped in horror. Disappointment, and boiling frustration surged inside of you. Tears pricked your eyes and he watched, amused as you tried not to cry in front of him. You barely had time to think about your tears because his fingers were at your clit again, rubbing along the sides, stroking it repeatedly, over and over. Your brain was in a fog, you could only focus on the pleasure and breathing, there was nothing else. It went on and on with you getting closer and closer until his voice floated to you,

“Beg.”

“Nooooo,” you sobbed, because you knew nothing would be good enough now. You whined and squirmed, trying to make the right begging noises. “Please, Kylo…sir…please! I n-need to cum! Please!” You said, holding out the vague hope he would let you.

“No.” He spat the word out and pulled his hand back. You started to sob now, tears slipped out of our eyes and you struggled agains the Force that still held your arms down.

“F-fuck you.” You sobbed, your voice cracking. You regretted it a second later when his hand came down hard on your cunt, smacking it with such force it knocked the breath out of you. Your pussy throbbed with the pain, the sting reverberating through your clit and down inside of you. You choked on air. Faster than you could even pay attention to in your fuddled state he moved his hand to his belt and unclasped his lightsaber.

“You want more?” he asked, pulling it up to you.

“Yes!” You sobbed without thinking. Kylo flipped the saber in his hand so the bottom end was pointed towards you. Your body tensed up and his eyes glinted. You recoiled from you but his hand grabbed your hip, keeping you in place.

“You want more so badly, I can show you more.” He said, you looked up into his face, he looked wild. His eyes were black with lust and the air of power surrounding him crackled. He pressed the bottom of the saber against your pussy, it was icy cold and shivers ran through you at the first touch.

He let go of your hip, trusting you would stay still and he gently spread your lips, opening you so he could press the saber handle into your tight cunt. You twitched as you felt yourself stretch around the cold, unforgiving metal. Your walls contracted, and you were unsure if it was trying to drag it in farther or rid your body of the intrusion. Your breathing was wrecked and you sobbed with need, pain and pleasure as he pressed it in farther. Each bump, each ridge caught against the inner lips of your vagina, swirling the pleasure inside you. It ached so deep inside, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as it was as far as it could go inside of you he pulled his hand away and just looked at you. He examined his efforts, splayed out in front of him. You legs open wide as you lay on the table, his weapon sunk deep in your cunt which struggled to stretch open for it. You gasped for breath and rolled your hips with need.

“Your cunt is so needy for me, slut.” He breathed as his hand came back to the soft flesh of your pussy and he stroked his thumb over your exposed clit. You jumped at the feeling. That, combined with the feeling of his saber inside of you, filling you up made you clench and nearly cum on the spot. “No cumming.” He said. “I’ll tell you when or if you’re allowed to cum.” His voice was so dangerous, all you could do was whimper.

His thumb stroked over your clit and his other hand grasped his lightsaber again, he dragged it back out of you and then in again, fucking you slowly and deliberately with it, watching as you writhed underneath him. The pressure mounted inside of you, it was so close again and you garbled out your desperate pleas,

“Please, sir! Please! I’ll do anything. I need to cum! Please! I need it! I need to,” you sobbed with longing. All the opportunities you had had to give yourself an orgasm before this that you hadn’t taken flashed in front of you, now all you wanted was that feeling and he was in control of it. Kylo’s thumb stroked your clit and you bucked your hips up into him, fucking yourself on his weapon.

“I need it, yes, oh stars! Yes! Please, ohhh please.” You sobbed, tears rolling out of your cheeks.

“Cum, you stupid slut, cum.” He growled all of a sudden and his thumb pressed against your clit, his hand still using the lightsaber to steadily fuck you. A half scream, half sob was pulled from your chest as the feeling washed over you. The orgasm cascaded in waves over you as you pressed your hips up and his thumb unrelentingly stroked your overly sensitive clit. As it started to subside, the feeling began to be too much and you tried to close your legs.

“You wanted this,” He growled as he ripped the saber out of your pussy. He shoved your legs back and the suddenly the Force locked them open, like how your arms were locked down. You were spread open for him, unable to cover the burning, too sensitive flesh. He stroked your clit, and everything burned, it was too much and you shook, gasping, sobbing, shaking your head.

“No! No more! Please! No more” You begged.

“You wanted to cum, so fucking cum, whore.” He said. His hand didn’t move from your cunt, as his other hand struggled to get his pants undone, shoving the layers of clothing aside. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t recoil. All you could do was live in the pulsing pleasure that wracked your body. Another orgasm mounted and was unwillingly pulled from you, making you quake underneath him. Kylo pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and you saw his wild eyes looking down at it, watching as he slowly pressed it inside. The feeling of him inside you was so good and combined with the constant movement from his thumb against your clitoris it pushed you over the edge again. Even though you were exhausted and felt like you could take no more, you came again. His hips started to move, beating into yours. His cock was huge, and with each time you came you felt like he was breaking you apart little by little.

“Oh fuck! Kylo! I’m yours…all yours…ohhh fuck me! Fuck me!” you moaned. His thrusts were rough and painful in your throbbing, swollen and dripping cunt but it made you unravel around him.

“You are mine, slut. You’re mine.” He growled. He ripped his hand away from your pussy and he leaned over you , looking into your eyes, “Do you hear that? You’re mine.” He said. He hissed out another moaan as your eyes connected and he could see the need there. You were going to come yet again, just from his cock this time. Your mouth opened in a low moan and you clenched hard around him. You found you could move your arms again, he couldn’t concentrate on keeping you held down anymore, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought yourself close to him. His hand found your hair and he tugged it hard.

“Fuck!” He said, trying to bite back the emotion in his ragged voice. As you came, his cock spasmed and filled you with his hot cum. You stayed against him, your arms around his neck and now your legs wrapping around him. He lifted you up so he held you against him, his hand loosening in your hair so he just cradled your head. Your breathing was labored but he held you until both of you returned to reality, relaxing into him. Your room seemed too quiet. Life didn’t seem right because he was no longer inside you.

“You’re mine.” He said quietly into your ear and you were okay with it.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #reader insert #kylo ren smut #kylo x you #kylo x reader #ben solo #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars smut #requests #writing #fanfiction #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfics

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swarmkeepers · 3 years

Note

riz & gorgug for #5! ✨

5. heard you tell the same story multiple times but doesn’t point it out to you when you excitedly bring it up to them again + riz & gorgug (prompts linked here)

(starting immediately post-fhsy, and a little more angsty than the other prompt fills so far because it deals with some of the aftermath of spring break. sometimes friendship is late nights and brownie recipes and old stories.)

There are forty minutes left until Elmville when Riz digs his claws into the headrest of the passenger’s seat and clambers over the seat backs to sit shotgun in the Hangvan.

Everyone else is asleep, or as Riz suspects in Tracker’s case as she stays oddly still as a human pillow for Kristen in the backseat, at least pretending to. But Riz is quest-restless even though they’re heading home, and Gorgug’s awake because he’s driving, and both of their darkvision light up the street ahead for them.

Gorgug doesn’t look surprised when Riz lands in the seat next to him. Of course. Because his whole party knows that Riz doesn’t sleep, or at least has to be told to, or has to know that there are hit points to be regenerated and a fight to be alert for the next day.

Streetlights speed by and Gorgug brings the van to a smooth stop at a light, accelerating smoothly up afterwards to not jostle anyone in the backseat. He’s practiced, easy, calm. Meanwhile, Riz’s thoughts are a messy turbulent maelstrom. He can’t sleep, and after everything in the Nightmare Forest if he never saw a bed again it’d be too soon. But, forget sleep, his brain isn’t even letting him relax right now, and Riz is struggling to figure out the questions that are on the tip of his tongue. His fingers itch for a ball of red string, trying to figure out why he wanted to be up here with the passenger seat and the windshield and Gorgug.

“What’s being a barbarian like?” he asks quietly, and Gorgug doesn’t exactly startle but does tip his head to the side curiously.

“Can I ask why?”

“I’m—angry,” Riz says, surprising himself, but it feels true enough. “I killed Kalina, but she said she was with me my whole life. And I hate that.” He wants to hiss, to bare his teeth and make the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but it’s not Gorgug he’s mad at. “Sometimes I wonder if I should use that to. Hit things.”

“Okay,” Gorgug says.

“And you—you know about that. About being angry, and not being. As comfortable. Or at least you’ve said stuff like that.” Riz picks at his long fingernails, pretending to be nonchalant and not looking up to see if Gorgug’s insight is better than his shitty attempt at deception.

“Tell me about why you wanted to be a rogue?” Gorgug asks instead, and Riz understands it’s not really a question. He trusts Gorgug. He thinks about it.

“Um, my mom was always a detective, I guess. And my dad was a spy, but I guess I didn’t know that.” Riz spends a lot of his time thinking. He’s realizing he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about himself. Maybe he needs to make a new conspiracy board. “Uh. I guess the first time I ever saw Penny sneak attack someone was really cool, I definitely knew I wanted to do that.”

Gorgug makes a soft hm? noise that asks Riz to keep talking. “Because I was little and Penny’s little too, and we were at the mall and some asshole catcalled her? And oh, man, you should have seen her, Penny was probably an Aguefort freshman then? But she told me to hide behind this vending machine and—”

They’re all the way home, with the Mordred Manor crew taking their stuff out of the trunk while Gorgug and Riz keep talking. Riz finished his story hurriedly as they pulled into the driveway, ending with Penny teaching Riz to make brownie bars at Strongtower after the sneak attack incident and being so cool and badass and nonchalant about making that guy’s nose gush with blood. He’s talking fast and gesturing big like he doesn’t usually, caught up in a story that he can tell well and that he hadn’t thought of in a while. Him and his rogue friends are tiny badasses.

“That was a good story,” Gorgug says. “Rogues seem pretty cool.”

Riz grins, all his fangs out and happy in the driveway of the manor. “Thanks, dude.”

“I think you can be angry and not a barbarian,” Gorgug says, gently.

And “Okay,” Riz says, gentled.

It’s the tail end of one of Fabian’s all-out summertime ragers. The Bad Kids are in a big cuddle pile that barely fits on the picnic blanket on the lawn of Seacaster Manor, and Gorgug’s at the very bottom. Riz is tipsy on half a beer (goblin metabolisms are not good and it’s not his fault) and he thinks Gorgug looks a little lonely, lying on his stomach and tapping at his crystal with all the wind knocked out of him from everyone lying on top. He scrambles down the pile of friend-bodies and sits on the grass by Gorgug. Riz racks his brain for something good to say. He doesn’t want Gorgug to be lonely, not when Riz is going to be up all night and Riz is usually the lonely one.

“Di’ I ever tell you about the first time I saw someone get sneak attacked,” Riz says, words big and bubbly and coming out too fast. He doesn’t care, he’s buzzed and happy and Gorgug looks like he could use a good story.

“I don’t remember, tell me,” Gorgug says, putting his crystal down face down so its glow goes dark.

“Oh man, you’re going to love this story. It was, like, me ‘n Penny at the mall, and there was this real asshole of a dude, and I didn’t know Penny went to Aguefort but she took out this knife? And it was like she flew at him—”

At some point in the story Gorgug falls asleep, and Riz is more pleased than annoyed. He looks cozy. And not lonely.

“What’s this, The Ball?” Fabian asks when Riz takes a fantasy tupperware of brownie bars out of his briefcase and puts it on the the table in the cafeteria.

“They’re sneak attack brownies,” Riz says.

It evidently does not clear up any of Fabian’s questions.

“Penny—Penny Luckstone?—they’re her recipe, she taught me how to make them the same day I ever saw her sneak attack a dude,” he explains. “She like, jumped out from behind one of those fake potted plants at the mall and slashed him so bad with a dagger and then she didn’t even get sneak attack on it but she also socked him in the nose and it was like the coolest thing I’d ever seen. And then she just went home and washed the blood off her fist and then we made brownies.” He puts a hand on his chest. “And I’ll never forget it.”

“Okay, The Ball,” Fabian says, but he takes a brownie.

Next to him, Gorgug’s already halfway into his second, nodding happily and energetically so his hair flops in front of his face. “I love that story!” he says. He’s all leaned in, listening to Riz’s story.

Riz lights up—he’s no Fabian, with expensive magical gifts, and he’s no Gorgug either with little artificed trinkets and sweeping big gestures. But he’d remembered the story and remembered the brownies and wanted to make some, and he’s just glad his friends like them as much as he does.

“Because the secret ingredient is sour cream,” Riz confides. Fabian fake-sputters, sending tiny brownie crumbs everywhere, and Gorgug swats at him.

“You were eating it just fine before!” Gorgug says indignantly. “Respect the brownie, dude!”

“You’re right, Gorgug,” Fabian sighs. He takes another bite. “They’re not bad, The Ball.”

Riz only dimly registers footsteps pounding up the stairs and also a greataxe brute forcing its way through the booby traps at his office door. His crystal is abandoned on the floor next to him, the last text he sent to Gorgug still on the screen. It’d been “Having a bad time. At my office. Can you come help? Thanks, Riz” and it’d been typed out with shaky fingers as his breaths started coming too fast, the way it does whenever he lets himself be alone in his own office for too long. Riz hates it but he needs help. He forgot the period on that text and it’s been staring at him for the past few minutes.

His brain is whirring too fast—Shadow Cat, Kalina’s eyes in his own eyes, Baron in his mirror in his own office, darkness and danger and Fabian in churning waters, he died in that forest and so did Adaine and so could any of his friends, bullets dodged and bullets fired and it’s too much, too much. His breaths are coming too fast but also not fast enough. Riz feels suffocated.

He’s wedged himself into his own briefcase of holding, the sides squeezing his arms in a way that’s grounding and comforting when nobody else is here in his office to help.

But Gorgug is. Gorgug is here to help now. He skids to a stop in front of Riz and sits on the floor and Riz only dimly registers it out of the corner of his eye where his head is curled into his chest trying to make himself small, make himself safe.

“Riz, can I touch you?”

Riz does his best to nod and Gorgug just wraps long lanky boy arms around his torso, gently lifting Riz out of his own briefcase and settling him in Gorgug’s lap as they sit on the floor of the office. He doesn’t let go, just squeezes tighter. It’s so much help, and also— “Can you. Talk? Anything— Anything’s fine,” Riz says.

“Um. Sure, Riz. I guess I can. I could list a recipe? My parents have been trying to teach me to cook more, for when we go to college in a couple of years. I’m sorry, I’m not like Adaine, I don’t have lots of interesting things memorized,” Gorgug says, apologetic. Riz wants to be able to tell him not to be, but he’s a little preoccupied trying to make his brain tell his lungs to breathe.

“Uh, so these are called sneak attack brownies?” Gorgug says hesitantly. Riz realizes what he’s doing and tries to laugh, the giggle interrupting the choked breath he was trying to take.

“They’re called sneak attack brownies because they’re my badass friend’s recipe. And he learned it from his badass friend. Um, I don’t know this super well, actually, but I really should by now and I’m just going to keep talking and if it’s wrong then I guess it’s wrong? I know that you need chocolate for a brownie. And eggs and sugar. You told me the secret ingredient is sour cream.”

Riz nods, thudding his head into Gorgug’s chest a little. He takes a deep breath. Gorgug’s hoodie is soft. And he’s a good listener.

“Right, uh. After sour cream. Flour. And butter?”

“The butter’s— the butter’s unsalted,” Riz manages to eke out, voice small and quiet and mostly talking to his own knees.

“Got you. Unsalted butter,” Gorgug agrees, easy as anything.

“Penny said— Penny said that dude she punched’s tears were salty enough, that’s how I remember it,” Riz tells him.

“Tell me more?” Gorgug asks, and he waits patiently as Riz lets his brain just focus on a recipe, an easy recipe and a badass story. It helps, to be given something focused to do. And Riz is just so, so glad he has friends who will give that to him, will listen over and over again when Riz needs to talk.

And Gorgug waits. And Riz tells him.

from the prompt list linked here! i’m closing prompts from this particular list simply because i have so many excellent ones to get through

#i love these soft bois and i hope you do too!#this got. truly so long i am so sorry #the green team. the nerd boys. the people with proficiency with guns.#they're GOOD FRIENDS gorgug is a GOOD LISTENER riz makes BADASS BROWNIES #food #fantasy high #sophomore year #gorgug thistlespring #riz gukgak #sola said #sola ficced #sola prompted #nonbinarywithaknife #sola answered #yes i know they don't get home to mordred at night but poetic license okay #also 'gorgug and riz in riz's office at night' and 'gorgug and riz in gorgug's van at night' feel like tropes for these two by now #and i'm here for it

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realtacuardach · 3 years

Text

Anger and Release

Here's my entry for Match 2 of Obiyuki Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight : Roaring Rampage of Rescue. Many thanks to @jhalya for her beta reading. I hope y'all enjoy!

...

Steam curled out from Shirayuki's mouth as she peered through the frigid dimness of the morning towards the fortress. In her current frame of mind, she could almost imagine that the steam was actually smoke pouring from the maw of an enraged dragon who had had treasure stolen from her.

She didn't like being angry. Anger clouded the mind, affected the senses, and she liked to be in control and sensible at all times, especially in times where a cool head was needed.

On the other hand, though, the anger that was not at all going away was fuelling the adrenaline coursing through her blood, and she would need that adrenaline for what she was about to do.

So, she let herself be angry.

Angry at the renegade soldiers for capturing her and Obi in the middle of the night without provocation. Angry at how they savagely beat Obi after they'd already mobbed him and restrained him when he tried to rescue her. Angry at how they had been thrown into the back of the wagon like sacks of potatoes, the pain of his fresh, brutal wounds showing through his bruised eyes and stabbing her in the heart. Angry at how he managed to undo only his hands before removing her bonds instead of untying himself totally. Angry that, instead of saving himself, he'd given her an apologetic look before pushing her out of the cart and then collapsing himself.

The apology frustrated her almost more than anything else, because she was certain he was not apologetic for the right reasons.

"When we get back," she muttered to herself in the lessening gloom, "we're going to have a long talk about not sacrificing yourself for me. Again."

Truthfully, she didn't have much faith that this talk would stick any better than any of their previous similar ones, but that wouldn't prevent her from trying.

You idiot, she choked back a sob, don't you know how much it hurts when you do this?

She forced the tears away. There would be time for tears later, when he was home and safe and so bound up by her healing that he would have to stop and listen to her.

And he'll smile up at me and shrug and say he couldn't make any promises...

She shook her head. Focus.

Squinting, Shirayuki looked around the fortress and saw only one sentinel standing guard at the entrance. That seemed a little lackluster as far as security went, but she wasn't complaining.

A murmur like Obi's echoed through her brain. Miss, you can never be too careful. The ground's not the only place the enemy can be.

As though on cue, she heard a slight crackling of tinder above her as though a squirrel was making its way through the limbs. She craned her head upwards to see a man in the tree besides the one where she was hiding, well camouflaged against the gnarled bark.

That wouldn't do.

Looking around surreptitiously, Shirayuki saw a jagged stone on the ground. She reached out and took it, its roughness grounding her and steeling her resolve. After a quick glance towards the sentinel at the door, Shirayuki crept a few trees away from her hiding place and looked up towards her target.

Practice with both Kiki and Obi had served her well; the rock slammed into the back of the tree dwelling soldier's knee as she'd planned, forcing his knee to bend and for him to lose his balance. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud amidst all the dead leaves.

Even in her haze of adrenaline, she could see his chest rise and fall, and felt a traitorous sense of relief.

The sentinel ran over to check his fallen comrade, his face showing first alarm, then irritation. He nudged the fallen man none too gently in the ribs and cursed. Shirayuki reached into her satchel, the glass jar solid in her hand.

"Fool," the guard grumbled, "falling asleep in a -"

The glass jar cracked across the back of his head, the potent herbs smearing across his skin and hair ensuring that the blow would knock him out. There were a few beads of blood where the glass scratched him, but she recognized him as one of Obi's attackers and couldn't bring herself to care much.

She stalked across the grass quietly and quickly, her ears attuned for any small sound, but heard and saw no one as she made her way to the door. Despite herself, her hand trembled a moment as she grabbed the door handle but she swallowed it down. She couldn't hesitate.

Obi needed her.

…

Years of having to deaden old soldier's wounds and to temporarily incapacitate stubborn, hardy patients who would not listen to her and stay in bed were serving her well. It meant that she knew just the right herbs to use, even if she had to grab them on the fly from the surrounding forest and unattended cupboards. It also meant she knew just where to dig and press her fingers to weaken muscles and render others unconscious.

She moved through the halls with almost clinical efficiency. Guard in west wing, herbs. Guard in east wing, pinch at the neck. Guard on the staircase, jar of herbs to the back of the head.

For once, she was grateful for her small size, it allowed her to creep and duck around the shadows. Because she had to take everyone out on the way to Obi, otherwise she knew their chances of escape were slim.

Especially with Obi as injured as he is.

Shirayuki gritted her teeth, forcing her feelings to fuel her rage. This was not the time to falter.

It was best to be quiet, the element of surprise was key. But she noted with alarm that her attacks were getting more reckless the deeper she went into the fortress, whether that was due to her desperation and anger, she didn't know.

She didn't care.

As she crept past the guard who had been watching the dungeon door, she heard voices and scowled.

A dull slap of something against flesh. "Where is the girl?"

A hollow chuckle. "What girl?"

Wind whistled as something was swung through the air, ending with a muffled thud and a deep groan. "You know what girl we're talking about!"

"Can't say I do," Obi groaned in response.

There was a sound that sounded sickeningly like a blade being drawn from a scabbard. "I won't ask again."

"Good, because I won't answer again." Obi clicked his tongue, the sound strangely garbled. "Not good at taking no for an answer, no wonder you can't get a girl-"

Don't provoke them, Obi!

Usually, if Obi was still being snarky and insolent, things were okay; it was only when he reverted to death glares that things were serious. However, that was when others, especially Shirayuku and Ryuu, were at stake. He was annoyingly flippant when it came to his well-being, so Shirayuki had no way of telling how bad it was without seeing him. She pushed up on her toes and stared through the bars.

Her blood ran cold, then hot, then boiling.

Her knight was shackled to the wall, looking even more bruised and battered then she had seen him before. Blood ran in a stream from the corner of his mouth, his limbs were contorted where they were shackled with blood plastering the material to his skin, and his glare was lessening to a slit of golden, blood-shot eyes as his face swelled from all the bruising.

And there was a blade held to his neck.

Rage filled Shirayuki like a beaker overflowing with viscous, corrosive liquid and she felt herself grabbing a rusty bar that had fallen in days past from the door. There were two people with him, the element of surprise would be almost useless here.

And it was overrated anyway.

She only made one sound before she dropped her cover entirely, just enough to surprise the brute holding the blade to Obi's neck and have him facing her.

With that, she cast aside all secrecy, let out an unholy shriek that she hadn't known herself capable of, and pounced.

…

"That," Obi huffed besides her as they struggled into the clearing, him leaning heavily on her shoulder, "was something, Miss."

Shirayuki gave something like a nod in response, but kept going. Her adrenaline was just about running out, and she could feel all the aches in her body starting to emerge. Just a little further.

"Miss?"

Along with the aches, the reality of what she had just done was beginning to sink into her thoughts as well. All those guards slumped unconscious, their wheezing both reassuring and terrifying. The bruises and scabs forming on the backs of heads and necks. The pained groans of Obi's tormentors as they faded into delirium, clutching most likely broken legs or arms. It looked terrible and daunting in her mind.

And she couldn't really bring herself to regret it.

"Miss, are you okay?"

It wasn't until she felt his fingers brush the dampness of her cheek that she realized she'd been crying. "I'll be fine."

"Miss."

He had no right to sound admonishing right now. None at all.

"Miss." He sounded gentler, although the admonishing tone still lingered in the back of his voice. "You're bleeding."

"Sure it's mine and not yours?" She shot back, and immediately regretted it at his wince.

"Miss, we're far enough. You need to rest a minute."

Acquiescing, Shirayuki maneuvered them to a small cave. She lay him down and sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest, the fear and fatigue and anger and anxiety all curdling at once in her gut. She was doing a poor job of hiding it, given that Obi reached up to brush his fingers against her face again. "Miss, please…"

Something about the touch and tone undid her, and she began weeping. "Don't," she choked, "don't ever do that again."

Obi frowned. "You know I can't promise that."

"Why?" She demanded, "Why can't you? Don't you realize how much you matter? Don't you realize how much it would kill me if something happened to you?"

He swallowed hard. "Not as much as you-"

Shirayuki glared down at him. "Don't. Just, don't."

Obi sighed and forced himself into a seated position. With a slight noise of distaste at his bloodied clothes, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She hugged him back fiercely and cried into his shoulder. He rubbed her back soothingly. "Thank you, Miss. I'm so sorry."

"Not as half as you'll be if you scare me like that again," she sniffled.

"Yes, Miss," she could feel his smile in the breath against her neck, warm and close and reassuringly alive.

She would need to talk with him more about this later, they were both well aware. But for now, they were both alive and safe.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

#obiyukimadness21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #Roaring Rampage of Revenge #Spitfire!Shirayuki #Obi's self-sacrificial nature is still going strong #much to Shirayuki's frustration

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todisturbtheuniverse · 3 years

Text

FIC: Adjacent Truths

Rating: M Fandom: Stardew Valley Pairing: Shane/Female Farmer, Shane & Jas Tags: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Friendship, Pre-Relationship Word Count: 1900 Summary: Jas overheard something Shane can't take back, and it's eating him alive. The farmer notices. Also on AO3. Notes: Post-4 Heart Event—a direct sequel of it, if you will. Content warning for suicidal ideation.

When Jas had still been just a baby, Charlotte had told Shane that something changes in your brain after you have a kid. Hormones, chemicals, neurons firing, all fine-tuning, honing in on the sound of the baby's cry, making interpretations on an instinctual level. He'd panicked when Jas had started crying apparently unprovoked in his arms, but Charlotte hadn't even twitched. "She's just hungry," she'd said, with her tired-happy smile.

"She seems mad about it," Shane had said, looking down into the scrunched-up, red face, the tiny mouth open in a hiccuping wail.

"She gets that from Patrick."

But Shane wasn't, had never been, Jas's parent. By the time he'd learned to sort her hungry-crying from her tired-crying and everything else, she'd been nearly out of babyhood.

And there was no easy fix, anyway, for the way he'd made her cry this time.

She avoided him after what she'd overheard. He didn't blame her. She was a smart kid; it was a good time to cut her losses, free herself of any emotional attachment she had to him. Marnie would be a better guardian than he was, anyway. Maybe the ranch wasn’t doing all that great, but no one in the valley was, and they all managed to keep limping along somehow. Once he was gone, they'd probably be just fine, lightened by the absence of his dead weight.

But he kept hearing her. That was his brain's special talent: replaying, over and over again, the bad moments, so that he wouldn't forget how terrible he was. The sound of her sobbing echoed around in his head with the hundreds of other unpleasant things that repeated themselves there: the song he’d been using as a ringtone when he got the call about Patrick and Charlotte; the stuffed pig that Jas wouldn’t let go of that first week, the one that made the most obnoxious oinking sound; the disinterested scratch of the social worker’s pen on paper, changing the course of their lives forever.

“You want to talk about it?” Lydia asked.

Jas still went to the farm with him on Saturdays. She just didn't make conversation during the walk. The first words she spoke were to Archimedes, and then she waded into the woods, heading for the treehouse, silent.

He didn’t talk much, either, but that was how it had always been. Lydia would tell him about whatever project she was working on; she would remind him again that he could come back later for Jas instead of helping; and then, inevitably, they would get to work. Because he still wasn't enough of an ass to pawn his goddaughter off entirely on someone who hardly knew her.

It was a low bar, but it was what he could clear.

“Talk about what,” he said, and swung for the tree again. He was glad that the damn sprinkler system hadn’t had another crisis since last weekend. If Lydia had put him to that kind of fiddly work today, maybe he wouldn't have cleared that bar.

“Whatever it is,” Lydia said. She watched the tree, eyes darting between trunk and canopy, waiting for the moment it began to tip so that she could warn him out of the way. “I can’t read your mind, but obviously something’s been eating you the last few days.”

He swung the axe again. She hadn't traced his mood back to The Incident. Maybe she didn't want to bring it up if she didn't have to, or maybe other people just didn't spend as much time thinking about how much of a loser he was as he thought they did.

Sounded fake.

“I don’t know,” he said. Thud. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Lydia was no saint. Sometimes, just like everybody else, she got impatient. Usually it was because of the sprinklers. But those sometimes were rare, and she wasn't taking the bait today, as usual.

“Maybe,” she said amenably, and lapsed into silence again.

After a few more strikes, the tree creaked warningly. “Now,” she said, and they both hustled out of the way of the trunk. It fell slowly at first, then faster, faster, until it hit the ground thunderously right in the space they’d cleared for it.

Lydia was the mastermind, but at least Shane wasn't terrible at brute force labor.

She picked up a second axe; they both positioned themselves along the fallen tree to start chopping. She needed a fair amount of lumber to get that barn built before winter hit. It was hard for him to imagine thinking so far ahead. The farm was just overgrown enough that she could probably collect all the lumber she needed right here, instead of having to buy it. He didn't need to ask if she'd be able to afford it, if it came to that.

“But maybe I’m not,” she said, picking up the conversation after five minutes, like it’d never been dropped. “I mean, you’re cutting up this tree like it’s personally offended you, so there’s a chance. Just saying. I know you think I talk too much, but I’m a good listener.”

Shane took a deep breath. He fully intended to let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, the kind that usually sent anyone who’d dared take an interest scuttling.

But, as happened too often with Lydia, a stream of words came out instead, like he was powerless to stop them. One more thing he couldn't control.

“Take your pick,” he said, and went on dicing up the tree like it deserved the cutting. “Morris is on my ass about saying the catchphrase whenever I spot a customer.” Thwack. “Gus is on my ass about my tab, which is nowhere near as bad as Pam’s, but apparently it’s a problem when you’re not best friends.” Thwack. “Marnie is on my ass about looking for a better job, like there’s a lot of options in Pelican Town.” Thwack. “Jas won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me.”

They'd established a pleasant kind of rhythm. Lydia’s axe fell not far behind his, creating a rhythmic one-two-beat, one-two-beat.

“Jas,” Lydia said after a moment.

His axe fell out of rhythm. “What?”

“You told me to take my pick. I say Jas is the item on that list that’s really bothering you. The other stuff happens all the time.”

It was no use telling her it was just a figure of speech. It was, but at the same time, she was right. All that other stuff was background noise, compared to Jas.

He hated when she was right. Except when he didn't mind. It was always hard to tell which it was until much later, which didn't help a lot with in-the-moment reactions.

He settled for hitting the tree again.

“Why do you think she’s not talking to you?” Lydia asked, taking up the rhythm again behind him.

“You know why.” He said it to warn her off, in case she’d forgotten—but he didn’t think she had. He wasn't that lucky.

“Maybe. But tell me again.”

Lydia didn't believe in hiding things, letting them fester. She was completely fine wearing most of her bruises out in the open, cheerfully admitting that something had gone wrong and she was working on it—again, most of the time. She had a couple secret bruises that he'd poked, accidentally or intentionally.

But he was all secret bruises, or at least, he'd have liked to be. As long as he kept hanging around her, though, she'd keep digging them up to air out. The obvious solution was to stop hanging around her. He wondered, again, why he hadn't done that yet.

“She overheard something she shouldn’t have,” he said, “because someone dumped a canteen of water on me and made a scene.”

Lydia actually laughed, a little breathless, in the middle of her swing. “Oh, I see. It’s my fault.”

She was kind of refreshing, was the thing. Everyone else at The Incident had taken it so damn seriously. Granted, that was exactly two other people—Marnie and Jas—and one of them was seven, so maybe that wasn't surprising. But still. It was nice that someone had heard the thing he said and wasn’t afraid to talk about it.

“Maybe,” he said.

“I panicked,” she admitted. “Not my finest moment. I’m sorry.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. They went back to the beat, one-two, one-two. In the distance, Archimedes barked.

“So she knows you meant it,” Lydia said, after a moment.

His axe hit a little crooked, and the rhythm stuttered again. He looked up at her. She realized he'd stopped, and she stopped, too, returning the look.

It wasn't that she didn't look sad, or worried. It was just that those things seemed secondary to a kind of openness, a thoughtfulness, like she was solving some kind of puzzle. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, or whether he liked it or not.

“Haven’t told her otherwise,” he said.

He expected a lecture. He gave one to himself more or less every hour. Put on a good face for Jas, or Just tell her you were having a bad day and didn’t mean it, or Tell her you’re going to be around for a good, long time, even though you don’t know, even though it might be a lie. The kid had already been through hell. He should've figured out some way, any way, to keep her from going through more by now.

He just couldn't. He didn't know why.

But she didn’t lecture. She said, “You don’t want to lie to her.” As if she understood.

He went back to his wood-chopping. “I don’t know how to lie to her.” He wished he did. That would have made this a lot easier.

But then, if he lied, she wouldn’t see the inevitable coming before it hit, which would make it all the harder for her.

Lydia went back to chopping, too. “I don’t think you need to, for what it’s worth.”

“Yeah? You got an age-appropriate way to explain wanting to die?”

Finally, she hesitated, but only for a one-two beat of the falling axes. “Not really,” she said. “But Jas has already been through a lot. She knows stuff that most kids don’t at her age. So you can tell her adjacent truths.”

“Lotta syllables.”

Finally, she gave an impatient little sigh. “I mean things like—you’re sorry that she had to hear that. That it has nothing to do with her, and doesn’t mean you don’t love her. That things are just hard for you right now.” She breathed heavily on the next swing, more exasperation than effort. “She gets that you’re grieving, too, Shane.”

Trust a person like Lydia to paint it in such nice strokes. Like his best effort, which fell far short of winning any prizes, would be sufficient to a needy little kid.

But maybe...well, saying something could always make things worse, but the idea hadn't come from him. It was a start.

“I’ll plagiarize,” he said. “Thanks.”

It seemed like she was going to let it lie there, but then she spoke up again. “Like I said, I’m a good listener, so. You need an ear, I’m here. Day or night. I mean it.”

She wasn't wrong. She was a good listener. But she had some kind of future ahead of her, still, and he'd poisoned enough people with his failures. It was out in the open now; it didn't need to be rehashed. Next time, he would keep his mouth shut.

#sdv shane #sdv farmer #shane/female farmer #universe writes #depression cw #suicidal ideation cw #friendship #pre-relationship

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theonlygamergost · 4 years

Text

My enemy, ally and friend

Technoblade deeply misses Wilbur and Phil, to a point where he thinks their friendship and the SleepyBoisInc was based on a lie, fortunately, he now has by his side an enemy, now teammate, and most definitely a new friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reviewed by the amazing @im-default

Enjoy~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes it was hard recollecting your thoughts, maybe it was the sleepiness, maybe it was the quantity of thoughts, either way, sometimes the only thing Techno could do to stop the storm inside his head was to sit down on the edge of a cliff and watch the world silently.

It was still, yet bursting with life… it was silent, yet full of all kinds of sounds.

Techno took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few seconds: he had found a monster he could not slay with a sword and shield… neither with arrows and potions.

The thought of abandonment was something brute force couldn’t defeat.

Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we?

Since Techno had been split apart from the SleepyBoisInc in Minecraft Championship, Techno could not shake off the feeling of getting abandoned… no… left out?.. no… he felt like an immovable burden was lifting off of Wilbur’s and Phil’s shoulders… and that burden… was him.

He had begged them to always team together because he was uncomfortable teaming up with unknown players… yes, they agreed but…

What if they were doing it only to please him? What if they didn’t care about him?

What if they were happy he couldn’t team with them anymore?

A shiver went down Techno’s spine, he didn’t think that was true… wasn’t it?

He sighed and took his head between his hands, shaking lightly.

There was no way that was right… They were the SleepyBois! Three great friends that always had each others backs… right?

Techno had recently gotten out of the potato war, meaning that he didn’t have a lot of time to talk to them, they supported him, listening to his rambles for hours… But what if Tommy was a better friend than him?

Tommy was energetic and played way more with Phil and Wilbur than Techno ever did.

What if?.. no… there’s no way…

…

But what if?

Techno looked at the valley underneath him, the Minecraft Champions server wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing one, but it served its purpose: It helped Youtubers and Streamers alike to practice for the next competitions, Techno didn’t spend a lot of time in here, but when he did it was always pretty full, allowing players to get in a discord call and talk without the eyes of viewers and fans on them.

DIstracting himself from his thoughts by looking around was working quite well… but he couldn’t ignore it anymore…

What if Tommy was slowly taking his place in the SleepyBoisInc?

A shiver went down his spine. He desperately hoped he was wrong…

But this feeling was more real than he liked to admit.

Oh so many times he had seen the three of them in a call, oh so many times he had seen them playing till morning together…

“Lost in thoughts, Technoblade?”

He snapped his head in the direction of the unexpected voice. He wasn’t expecting to see the blonde boy with the green hoodie to be honest, but they didn’t have to pretend to be enemies anymore, he didn’t have to be alarmed of his presence anymore… so he relaxed the shoulders he didn’t know he tensed up.

“Yeah… something like that…”

It was a reflect of his to always place a hand on his sword when he heard movements behind him, so he moved it back to his lap, spine curved and head looking down.

“Chin up king, your crown is falling”

Dream quickly caught Techno’s crown which was slowly threatening to slip off the head it was placed on.

Techno couldn’t help but flinch at that comment… they always said that to him… Phil and Wilbur always said those words to cheer him up when he wasn’t feeling too well or his anxiety had taken over… Wilbur and Phil…

Dream noticed how sad Techno looked, and how trapped in his own mind he was, it was a common recurrence lately, but Dream had never had the guts to ask him since Techno could be… aggressive and over-protective without realizing it, and Dream was scared to bother him, so he never asked.

But it’s now or never, right?

“What’s going on Techno? You look lost”

In a way, you aren’t wrong, he thought, but said nothing, fidgeting with the soft fur of his cape.

The blonde boy stiffly sat down next to him, admiring the view as well, legs dangling off the cliff.

“Look Techno,” the crowned pig turned his head so he could see the green hoodie, but not his face, “I-I know we haven’t talked much… and we were… quote on quote rivals ‘till recently… but if anything is on your mind, a-anything at all… I’ll be here to listen”

Dream was stuttering more in his brain than he actually was, talking to Techno as a friend was something he never imagined and it took him time to get used to it… but he cared for Techno… even if they had the same age, to him, Techno knew way more and he looked up at him like some sort of… idol… even if he had more subscribers than him.

The pig-skinned man still wasn’t looking at him, Dream felt like he messed up, like he wasn’t supposed to be there, so they sat in silence next to each other, one freaking out, the other debating with himself.

Did Dream need to know about his theory of the Sbi? Did he need to know that he missed them dearly and was scared to confront them, even if it was just a casual greet?

No… he didn’t need to… he thought to himself, but Phil always told him that keeping his thoughts to himself wasn’t going to make a difference so…

“Are you sad that the Dream team got split up in Mcc?”

Dream was so surprised to hear Techno’s voice he jumped, he was even more surprised that the question was addressed to him.

“Uh… uhm… well… y-yeah? I guess I’m kinda sad that I c-can’t play with th-them? They are my best friends after a-all… “

Dream was taken off guard and his stuttering was inevitable.

He never stuttered when they were live or recording since Dream told himself that Techno was talking to him to make content and entertain, so he was able to act cocky in front of him since he was “better than Technoblade”... he knew that statement wasn’t wrong, but if Techno would set his mind to it, he could easily surpass him.

“Well… I’m… very sad I can’t play with Phil and Will but… “

Was he ready to expose himself? Was he ready to get judged by Dream? No… not really… Techno was one to keep his burdens all to himself, placing a smile as a curtain to avoid everyone seeing what was hiding inside.

Wilbur and Phil could see straight through his act and they would annoy him until he let out everything… but they weren’t there right now, they weren’t there for him… but Dream was.

“I honestly miss them very much… I know I was the first one to find myself a team without them... yet… something is bothering me-”

“You’re afraid to get replaced?”

Techno’s eyes widened as he turned to face the blonde boy with a white mask, in complete shock.

“H-how did you..?”

Dream smirked, collecting his legs and squeezing them into his chest.

“I was afraid of that too… Have you ever watched a manhunt video with BadBoyHalo in it?”

Techno nodded, imitating Dream by bringing his right leg to his chest.

“The synergy between George Sapnap and BBH is amazing, Bad is an amazing leader and while I was being silent not to give myself away… They laughed, joked and had tons of fun together… and as much as I tried to join in… They even ignored me from time to time… hell, they even called themself the “Three Muffinteers”... I honestly was scared they were replacing me with Bad…”

Techno looked at the server in front of them, the players looked like ants from where he was standing.

“And what did you do?”

Dream looked at Techno and sighed, his stuttering went away in a heartbeat, Techno was vulnerable. He was asking him help, Dream, his enemy, from the eyes of the fanbase… Dream had a hard time not to freak out like a fanboy, but this was serious, Techno was serious, and so was going to be his attempt to help him.

“Nothing, I was actually very sad for the entire night…”

Techno looked down, already hopeless.

“But the next day, as I joined a call, George and Sapnap were there, happy to hear from me… acting like the day before never happened.”

Techno tilted his head in confusion, Dream took a deep breath and turned to face him, “Look Techno, they can’t replace you, everyone is their own person, with their own personality, quality and flaws, even if it looks like Tommy is taking your place, he can’t replace you because he isn’t you!”

Techno was astonished by Dream’s words, he had recently watched a couple of his videos to understand what type of players he was and all he had seen was a confident, solitary player who thought almost always two steps ahead and never went in without a plan. Realizing these kind words were coming from him, they definitely made him look more human… same with himself showing Dream this insecurity of his, made him look human too.

“C’mere Techno, you look like you need a hug”

Techno was pulled in an embrace he didn’t expect nor want, his whole body was stiff because of the unwanted human touch, but he wasn’t a robot, he wasn’t perfect, and as he looked at the green of Dream’s hoodie and the blonde of his hair, the memories poured in.

Phil…

He couldn't hold in the sobs at this point and broke down.

Dream imagined how hard for his pride this had to be, crying on a shoulder of someone he barely knew, he just remained silent, trying his hardest not to move to break this moment.

~~~~~

After the hiccups calmed down, Techno’s weight shifted and Dream took it as a sign to let him go, his eyes were red from the tears and his cheeks were still full of tears, so was Dream shoulder.

“S-sorry about that…”

Techno apologized while looking at the wet spots on the other man’s hoodie, turning away from him to blow his nose.

“Don’t worry, we all need to cry sometimes, I’m happy I was able to help you… as a teammate… and a friend”

Dream cringed instantly, thinking he pushed his luck too far by calling him friend, but Techno just smiled at the comment, wiping the remaining tears away with his sleeve.

“I might not be Wilbur or Philza but… if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask, I promise i won’t judge”

Techno was looking beneath him, he smiled again before he placed a hand on Dream’s shoulder to help himself get up.

“Thank you, I'll’ keep that in mind... Now, I’m kinda hungry, I know a place that makes good burgers, want to go get something to eat? it’s on me” he extended his arm to Dream, pointing at it with his eyes.

It was Dream’s turn to smile, he took Techno’s hand to help him get up, “I can’t refuse, can I? Well then, lead the way” he gestured Techno to go first, when he started walking, Dream following right after.

“Want to 1v1 later? I could teach you some tricks about 1.9 combat if you’d like”

“What a nerd, always thinking about practicing… sure, why not? But don’t complain if you get destroyed, I’m better than you think I am”

They both laughed, hands in pockets and diamond sword strapped on their back.

Maybe opening up to him wasn’t such a bad idea.

#I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS #WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF #technoblade #dreamwastaken #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #ph1lza #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #sleepyboisinc #sbi #mcyt fanfiction

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bimswritings · 3 years

Text

This Is Our Way-Ch.2

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of. The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

Ch.1

Read on Ao3

Normal Blog Request: Open

“What do you want.” The stranger's voice comes out muffled through the modulator of his helmet. It's deep and raspy, cutting through the air cleanly even though he speaks in little more than a mumble. The voice of a man who’s been hardened by the galaxy, ready to face anything in his way, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“You certainly don’t waste time now, do ya? Well, I can respect that , as I to, am a very busy man.” He smiles, lifting his hand to point directly at him.

“Your armor. Take it off.”

The air itself changes, shifting without anyone even moving. Even from your perch so far above you can feel it, becoming charged to the point it was almost suffocating, sending every nerve on edge.

You always knew Leon was a few brain cells shorter than average, but this? This was beyond stupid! Trying to take away a Mandalorian’s armor was as sure of a death sentence as stealing from the emperor himself.

“I’m going back to my ship. Move, or I’ll make you.”

You perked at his words. He wasn’t looking for you? It was really just by chance that he had wandered through here? If that were the case, then the universe really was against you. Not that you had any doubt about that in the first place.

Leon laughed. “Good one. But seriously. Hand it over.” The other three had been moving while he talked, slowly stalking towards the armor clad man until he was surrounded. If he noticed them he didn’t show any outwards signs of it, remaining still as he stared at the man in front of him.

A moment of silence. Then two.

“Alright then. Your funeral.” He nodded to the others.

All at once they were on him. It was a mess or limbs, arms and legs flying as each man fought for the advantage. It seemed that, by all means, the Mandalorian had it. Within seconds they were all relieved of their weapons, blades and blasters skittering across the alley as the fight continued.

It almost frightened you, the speed and efficiency with which he worked. Anything that happened to get past his defenses simply bounced off his armor.

‘I need to leave.’ You realized with a chill as he landed a particularly hard hit on Corin, a crack coming from his face as he fell to the ground, yet he still got back up, blood now streaming down his chin.

Slowly, you began to edge back. If you were lucky they would all kill each other and you’d have nothing to worry about. With Leon gone there would be no gangs after you, and apparently the Mandalorian had no interest in you. It was a win-win situation. For you at least.

Then, just as you were at the edge to freedom, a cry stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t the sound of grunts and squeals of pain from fighting. No. This was higher, more surprised than anything. The voice of a child.

Despite your better judgment, you turned back, unable to walk away if there was a chance there was some kid hiding in the shadows who got mixed up in this. That would have been more normal then what you actually saw.

The pod the Mandalorian had been traveling with earlier was now open. Inside of which rested not supplies like you had thought, but a small creature of some sort. Unlike anything you had ever seen, green skin and drooping ears poking out from a small head. Leon stood above it, the fighting taking a momentary pause with his discovery.

Producing his blade, he brought it closer to the small bundle as your heart jumped to your throat.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” The Mandalorian grunted, fighting forward against the grip his current opponents had on him.

Leon only pressed the blade closer, making it cry out more. “Not so fast there. Unless you want to find out what color its blood is, I suggest you cooperate.” The armored man froze, body tense as he raised his hands in surrender. Leon nodded to the others, who produced a pair of magnet cuffs. Kicking him down, they forced arms hands behind his back and restrained him into submission. All the while Leon watched with a sick sense of glee.

It surprised you. Mandalorians were supposed to be ruthless killers who fought simply for the joy of fighting. Yet here he was giving himself over for a child. One that didn’t appear to have any relations to him unless he was hiding quite the set of ears under that helmet.

Once he was sure the Mandalorian was restrained, Leon turned his attention back to the pod.

“I didn’t know you guys liked to keep pets. Thought you liked to do the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing.” He leaned in, examining the creature before picking it up to look closer. The Mandalorian jerked, earning a warning glance.

“Though I have to say, I’ve never seen a creature quite like this one before.” Smirking, he turned back, knife raised. “He’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

You were never one to get involved, put yourself in danger for someone else's sake, but if there was one thing that threw your carefully honed self preservation skills out the window it was kids. They were innocent. Something to be protected and nurtured. They didn’t deserve any kind of pain, no matter who they were traveling with. Besides, you owed the man one. He had bought you dinner after all.

Hopefully this wasn’t going to hurt as much as you thought it would.

One step forward and gravity took effect, hurtling you towards the ground with more speed than anyone was comfortable with. It did the job though. Everett’s body crumpled beneath you, taking the brunt of the impact as your weight crashed down on top of him. It was still a rough landing, and the air was almost completely knocked from your lungs, making it that much harder to struggle to your feet. The cushion of a man however, did not make a single movement, let alone sound. While he wouldn’t remember what happened, the others sure would, their heads whipping around to face you, a mix of surprise and anger.

Leon was the first to speak up.

“What the fuck was that! You think you can just attack my guys!”

Pushing yourself up, you tried to ignore the throbbing pain as you mustered the best smile you could, sauntering your way over to where he stood. As you passed, you could feel the gaze of the others following you, keenly aware of one specifically as you wondered if he recognized you.

“I was just out, seeing if there were any tipsy troopers I might be able to snag.”

“Never a day of rest for you.” He tilted his chin. “So what warranted this ‘drop in’.”

“Oh, you know. Just saw you from above and thought I might say hello. Though I am surprised.” Finally approaching him, you added a little extra sway to your hips, feeling utterly ridiculous as you did so. Balancing on a crate, you rest your chin on your palm and leaned in just a bit too much. “I never thought you would nab yourself a Mandalorian. I must say, I’m impressed. Maybe I misjudged you.”

It made you almost sick, speaking in such a lustfully sweet tone, but it worked wonders on Leon. His chest expanded like a puffer pig, cocky as he proceeded to brag. The entire time you had to resist rolling your eyes.

He went on talking about nothing but how strong and influential he was, all the things that came with leadership and so on, until you cut him off. Eyes moving towards the creature in his hands. Your true target.

“It would be a real shame to kill that thing. Girls love moving in with guys who have pets.” Batting your eyes, you added a bit of extra charm and stuck your lower lip out in a pout. You had seen some of the escorts in the cantina doing it, and hopefully you were doing it right or you would look like a real idiot.

“Mind if I look at it. It’s pretty cute.”

His eyes widened a fraction at your words, before narrowing back down into little more than slits as a hungry look took over his face. Wordlessly he tossed it over to you, eliciting yet another cry from the bundle while you fumbled to catch it. Seeing it closer now, it was even funnier to look at. Wide eyes stared back, big and watering. It was cute, in an almost ugly way.

‘Asshole.’ You seethed, watching Leon move around you, now fully focused on the man being beaten to the ground by the others. Trying not to winch with each hit, you hoped his armor was as strong as rumored.

“I knew you’d come to your senses soon enough. Just playing a bit hard to get. I can respect the chase though.” He spoke, unaware as you slowly lowered the child back into the pod it had previously resided in. The small creature made a sound of confusion, cocking its head to the side as you fiddled with the buttons on the side, finally finding the right one to close it. One less thing you would have to worry about.

Making sure it was closed, you began moving once again, balancing on the balls of your feet as you approached.

“But now you’ve finally picked the right team.” Leon leveled his blade at the now laying Mandalorians neck, pushing just enough to force his head back.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a team player.”

Your leg comes up in a swift kick, nailing him between the legs and dropping him to the ground as his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Your other leg rose in quick succession, catching him in the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.

Panting, you turned back towards the remaining two just in time to dodge a jab from Sho. Jumping back you were forced onto the offensive as he followed, swinging his blade in wide arcs. Further and further you were driven, and you could feel yourself quickly losing stamina as your breathing came in short gasp. You were a pickpocket after all. Not being seen was the basis of your skills, and while you knew how to fight it was never your strong suit. Brute force was out of your range.

Regardless, you fought on. Step after step, swing after swing, you evaded. If Sho hadn’t been so young and unseasoned he would have had you already. Unfortunately, he had help. A familiar cry reached your ears, piercing through the adrenaline and drawing your attention.

The child.

Looking past Sho, you could see Corin trying to break into the pod. Its doors were already open slightly, and the metal rod he had wedged between the plates only continued to widen the space.

‘Shit.’

Taking a deep breath, on the next arc of his swipe you pushed forward. Managing to grab a stray pipe as you passed, you grabbed Sho’s arm by the wrist, twisting the knife from it and shoving away. Pivoting around as soon as you were past, you brought the improvised weapon in a wide arc to make contact with a painfully sounding thud.

Not pausing in your momentum you turn to Corin, still occupied with the pod, leaving his back wide open. Two small leaps and you’re there, giving him the same treatment you had Sho, his body falling in a heap.

Panting, you peeked inside to find the creature unharmed, if not a bit scared. Though to be honest you yourself were shaken, the pipe falling from your hands with a clatter. As soon as you got the Mandalorian from his binds you could consider yourself even and leave. You would never have to worry about this again, apart from being extra careful around Leon from now on. He wasn't the type to take too kindly when his pride was hurt.

“Don’t worry bud. Stay there. I’ll go check on-”

A hit from the left, catching you in the temple and blindsiding you. Clenching at the injury, a boot found itself onto your back, forcing you to the ground before toeing you over.

“You. Little. Bitch!” Leon seethed from above. Spinning his blade around, he buried it into your leg, ignoring your cry of pain as you struggled. He repeated the process, striking the flesh again and again until it was little more than a bloody mess. All the while you prayed to the Maker he didn't an artery.

If Leon didn’t kill you now, surely you would die soon. A wound like this on the streets was a death sentence, especially without any medical equipment. If infection didn’t get you then lack of work would.

“Thought you could get the drop on me? Now, instead of sleeping with me, you can sleep in the ground.” His bloodied boot met your torso, earning a small crack and wheeze for his efforts. Trying to crawl away was no use, his other foot pining your wrist to the ground as he leaned over your body. Hand moving lower, your confusion turns to anguish as fingers jab into your body, entering from a wound you must have received in your skirmish with Sho. The adrenaline had kept you from feeling it before, but now? Now you wished you had remained unaware.

“You know,” Leon grunted, his fingers twisting inside and making you gasp as you felt something pull. “I knew I’d be in your guts one day, but I figured it would be a little more enjoyable for both of us.”

You hardly hear him, pain consuming every crevice of your body and invading your mind. It's like everything was burning with an invisible flame and nothing could put it out. Now matter how hard you struggled, how much you cried out for the maker to just end it, to let you die, it continued. It felt as if it was coming from everywhere, replacing the blood in your veins if only to spread more.

Only once in your life had you experienced anything even close to this, and you had barely walked away with your life then. But now…

You were drained. The last of your fight leaving with the blood as you grew colder, movements stilling. It's like you were surrounded in a cloud of cotton, everything muffled and blurry as your senses faded in and out.

Leon must think you dead, as his weight is removed, allowing your struggling lungs to greedily gulp in air. It did nothing to help, only making the burning in your chest worse.

Through hazed vision, you observe the world as it moved in slow motion. Shadows shift and flicker along the edges of your vision, before detaching to loom over you. There’s words being spoken, sounding all the same as they’re repeated again and again. It’s only when a hand ghost your wounds do you react.

A small whimper leaves your lips, begging whoever it is to leave you alone and let you die in peace. To die alone in the middle of an alley, stabbed and left to rot. As is the fate of so many who live here.

Then, in the middle of your suffering, comes warmth.

It starts small, a pebble of comfort really, growing more every second. You briefly wonder if this is what death feels like. If so, then maybe it's not so bad. It reminds you of the warm drinks your mother would bring home after work, warming you from the inside out like liquid sunshine.

It dulled your senses bringing a blissful wave of numbness as hands continued to move across your body.

Then, nothing. ________________

It seemed as if you were bathed in darkness for eternity, endlessly floundering in its inky depth. Like someone's holding your head underwater, keeping you under the surface with ease as you claw back to the surface of consciousness, inch by inch until you can slowly start to feel your body once again.

You're confused and bleary as you wake, body feeling like lead as your greeted with the humming of engines and creaking of metal. As far as you could remember, you hadn’t fallen asleep near the landing base, and ships never landed this close to your crate.

Thinking hurt too much now to worry though, head pounding in protest. It’ll be a problem for you in the future you decide. Right now, you just wanted to sleep off the massive headache. Turning over, a jolt of pain rewards your efforts and your eyes shoot open.

The sight of metal greeted you, though not the type you were used to. This was less rusted, better welded than anything in the area you lived. The blanket currently clutched in your hands was softer than anything you owned as well, and you never had an actual pillow before.

Another shock of pain coursed through you, prompting you to lift your coverings. The sight of stark white bandages greeted you, peeking up from the holes in your shirt and around your bare leg. There was no fabric left on the injured appendage, looking to have been ripped off if the jagged edges were anything to go by. The sight was heartbreaking, being the only pair of pants you owned, now left in less than good condition.

The sight of the bandages does stir something in the back of your mind, fighting the fog in your mind and settling right on the tip of your tongue. Its hazy, a patchwork of events and words. If you could just-

Another jolt shoots through you, bringing back memories alongside the pain. The walk home, seeing the Mandalorian with Leon, trying to help and getting fucked in return. It all comes back in sharp flashes.

That’s right. You were injured. You should have died. Yet here you are, alive.

The question is; where is ‘here’?

You’re resting in a small enclosed space, the only exit being at your feet, which protrude almost comically from the edge. There’s a large number of blankets and a few stuffed animals lying around, working to soften the metal crypt.

There’s no sounds apart from what you heard earlier, though if you listen closely enough you can hear the occasional beeping of machinery and internal components. The silence is of little comfort only making you on edge. If there’s no sound, then someone is purposely trying not to be heard.

Getting out of the small space is more of a challenge than you would think. The wounds make it nearly impossible to move and you have to bite your tongue to keep from crying out as you shift, slowly pulling yourself to the edge and allowing your legs to hang over the side. You nearly collapse when you jump down the remaining three inches to the floor, forcing you to lean on the cold steel of the wall. Air comes in short gasps with your hand clenched over your mouth to muffle any sound. When the pain fades enough to move again you make your way further through the ship, inspecting everything with wide eyes as you go.

You’re definitely on a ship. If the rumbling of the engine earlier hadn’t been enough, the floor under your feet sways and dips every so often, forcing you to use the wall to keep from falling. There’s tools and other miscellaneous items scattered about. Crates with varying degrees of fullness and contents are pushed into corners away from an incredible large amount of storage spaces, and the air reeks of blaster residue, rust, and fuel. There’s something that looks suspiciously like a carbonite chamber on the far wall, making your nerves increase ten fold.

It all had an organized chaos to it, making it near impossible for anyone but the ship's owner to navigate the clusters of items.

As you inspect a panel on the wall more closely, hoping you might gather some information, a small clatter makes you jump. Spinning around, you come face to face with the little monster that got you into this situation.

The green creature coos, speaking a jumble of sounds like he expects you to understand. It steps forward, waddling over in small steps to your frozen form until he’s at your feet. He doesn’t even come up to your knee, though that doesn't make him any less hesitant to latch onto your leg, tugging at the fabric with a surprisingly strong grip.

For once you’re unsure what to do. While you liked children, your experience was limited to those on the streets, giving the occasional tip to avoid them from causing any trouble and attracting attention from the enforcers. They seemed to like you though, and sometimes you swore it was like you had a retractor beam calibrated specifically for them. You tried your best to get them in with one of the better groups around, but that was all you could do for them. You were far from the best example, and there was no way you could look after them yourself.

But wait, he had been traveling with the Mandalorian. So if he was on this ship with you now then that meant…

A thud, louder than all the others. It comes from above. Your eyes drift to the ladder, leading up to the only place on the ship you haven't searched yet.

The cockpit.

You push the kid aside gently before moving closer, ears straining for any more noises. At the bottom you struggle to lift your arm to the bottom rung. Any movement sends a fresh wave of pain from your side, and when you lift your leg to push yourself up it only worsens. You're forced to use the uninjured leg, going up with only one of each limb. It’s slow and painful, only made that much more difficult by the fact you had to remain silent.

It was a slow go, but eventually you made it to the top, head poking above the lip of the entrance to reveal a spacious cockpit. There were three seats arranged in an arrow, but only one was currently occupied with the man you were looking for. His shoulders jutting out from the sides, too wide for the seat to act as a proper back. Light from the passing stars bounced off his helmet almost blindingly in flashes. The rifle strapped to his back was gone, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. There could be any number of blades and blasters hidden on his person. Though even without weapons he was dangerous.

Imminent death wasn’t what concerned you. After all, you assumed he was the ones who had patched you up and brought you aboard.

As you made your way closer to his turned back, your eyes roamed the area. Being around ships as much as you had, even if they were mainly imperial, there were a couple things you noticed.

Judging from the setup, it must be pre-empire, though it clearly had some modifications added to keep it on par with other ships. Reinforced walls in the upper parts, clearly welded by someone other than a professional, with a narrowed viewing port to give blaster less of a chance to blow out the glass. A sliding door with airlock components lies at the entrance. Not something you would find on a normal transport ship like this, which the large hull told you it was. Squares weren't the most dynamic shape for space travel after all.

Through the narrowed view you can see you’re in hyperspace and it takes you aback for a moment. You had never been beyond the atmosphere of Corellia, even when in the hold of transports. Countless nights you had spent gazing at the sky, trying to see past the clouds to the stars beyond, wishing you could be up there with them, exploring the galaxy and away from this hell hole. Now, it was like your dreams had come true in their own twisted way.

So distracted by the sight, you missed the stray plasma cutter lying on the ground. Your heel caught the edge, making you stumble as it skidded across the floor, the noise early defining after the previous silence. You paused, only a few feet from the Mandalorian now. There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you had caught him sleeping. Somehow that was almost as terrifying as finding him awake. The fact that he found you so little of a threat that he could sleep without fear of you trying something.

Then, without turning, he spoke, voice sending every fiber of your being on high alert.

“I thought you would have slept longer.”

#the mandalorian #din di #din dijarin #din dijarin x reader #x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandolorian #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #baby yoda #grogu #mando #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #mandalorian #din x reader

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drxwsyni · 4 years

Text

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

#yandere bnha #yandere mirio #yandere tamaki #yandere mirio togata #yandere tamaki amajiki #yandere my hero academia #yandere lemillion #yandere suneater

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hunflowers · 4 years

Text

this is because me and miss andrea ( @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy ) had a soft night... but it ain’t so soft sexy sexy, enjoy *nose boops*

It was a very, very relaxing day you and Harry had shared, and that calmness was starting to bleed into the night.

You both were snuggled up in bed as you watched a Netflix movie you’d seen countless times before. Harry was seated up against the headboard, clad in just a pair of sweatpants, no shirt or underwear adorning his body. Your head was sitting gently on his chest as you tangled your legs together, the comforter just barely resting on your hips. You yourself were just wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of cotton panties, a usual outfit you wore on days you stayed home.

The time was hitting just past ten o’clock and as the movie dragged on, and as Harry’s fingers kept massaging small circles into your back, you had the urge to completely melt into him and fall asleep. It was when Harry shook you slightly that you realized you actually had fallen asleep.

Your tired eyes danced around the room in a sudden frenzy before you looked up at Harry through your lashes, giving him a sheepish smile for apologizing for dozing off mid-movie. Harry didn’t mind that you had fallen asleep, but he was missing your snide comments about the movie that you made under your breath. “Don’t be fallin’ asleep on me now, love.”

“Sorry... sorry,” you spoke between yawns, “Your massaging felt so nice.”

Harry looked at you for a second, eyes dancing across the planes of your face, a slight glint in them as his small circular motions on your back ceased. You had half the mind to protest and whine, but then you recognized the small faint grin stretching on his lips that made you sit up a little straighter.

“Har–”

“Lie down, baby.”

You didn’t argue. You laid your body down almost instantly, and just as fast, Harry was climbing over your body, hips nestled between your thighs.

His curls dangled slightly over your face, his eyes flickering between your own and your lips, before he not so nonchalantly raked them down the rest of your body. “Can I continue makin’ y’feel good, Y/N? So good, that you’ll get exhausted, practically begging me to stop, even though deep down you want me to keep going?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Harry’s lips locked onto yours, a bit of brute force behind the connection as he delved his tongue into your mouth. Your hands tangled into his hair, pulling his face closer to yours if that was even possible. It wasn’t long before you felt his hips rut into yours and you could practically feel every inch of his clothed member perfectly as he continued to ground his hips into yours.

But then he stopped as he looked back down into your eyes, as if he was still waiting for an answer. Your brain was having such a malfunction, you didn’t even know how to respond, especially when he took it upon himself to dip his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding his fingers along your wetness.

“Can I? I need an answer, baby. I know you don’t want me stopping now... God, I can practically smell the mess you’re making from here,” he groaned, removing his fingers from you and bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean of your juices.

“Taste so sweet, Y/N. You’ll let me have a better taste won’t you?” He pled, shifting his body further down the mattress as he lifted your shirt and smothered your tummy in kisses that usually would have you a squirming mess, full of giggles.

Now you were a squirming mess for different reasons.

“Harry... please.”

“Please what? I need words,” he scolded, but he was hardly paying attention to what you said as he licked your center through your soaking panties, hands wrapping around your thighs as you had the instinct to close them on his head.

He placed soft kisses to your pantyclad pussy, placing a particularly hard kiss over your clit before he worked his way up your inner thigh. He bit down on the plushy skin, intending to leave plenty of love bites over the course of the night, just giving you a friendly reminder that it was his skin to bite into. Plus, you had a beach day planned the next day, so really it was a reminder for everyone else too.

“You’re soaked, pet, and all just for me, right? Imagining me licking into you, my tongue swirling through your folds, flattening down onto your clit like you love, all while my hands keep you pried apart so you’re spread nice an’ wide, hm? If you want it to become reality, all you have to do is ask,” he smirked up at you quickly before continuing his quest to litter your thighs.

He was right, you were imagining him doing all of that and then some. But, you hardly had a voice right now as he would switch from leg to leg but not before kissing down onto your clit in between movements.

Then he stopped completely, green eyes gazing into yours as he was still waiting for a response. He almost wanted to laugh at how desperate you looked, because he knows he has you wrapped around his finger. One movement and you could be a crumbling mess beneath him or a pouty grouch the rest of the night. He absolutely loves the power he can hold over you.

He knows you want it, he can see it all over your face. He just wants to hear you say it. You’ve grown used to getting anything you want whenever you want, but now, he wants you to work for it. To actually build the courage and say Harry, I want you to eat my pussy. He knows you never will, and that’s what’s fun about this.

You whimper as your core remains untouched for a few more moments, and finally give in to his wishes. “Harry... I really want you to– to have a taste.”

Without so much of a word back, Harry was pulling your panties down your legs and throwing them somewhere in the room over his shoulder. As promised, his hands pried you open, stretching your thighs as far apart as they could go. He admired your cunt, basking in the view of your dripping wet hole that was pulsating as it waited for some sort of contact.

Looking up at you one last time, Harry leaned down and licked a bold stripe through your folds, flattening his tongue down on your clit, giving it kitten licks before traveling back down eat away at your core as it continued to leak out more and more.

A loud moan ripples through your body, your fingers twirling through his hair, tugging on the roots just like you know he likes, your thighs shaking and aching to close but because of the pressure of his body between you, they stay open.

Pure ecstasy shot through you at the feeling of his heavenly tongue massaging over you, once in a while sinking into your vagina as far as it could go, hitting against your walls. And all while his mouth was working wonders, you felt his hands gently kneading the outer parts of your thighs, over where your stretch marks could be found.

It was an everyday occurrence when Harry would shower the scars with kisses or soft touches, telling you how much he loves them. Because of him, you grew you love them too. He told you these were the marks that gave you depth and beauty, and hating on them would just be a waste of your time.

It made you feel so happy when he said he didn’t mind them at all and quite rather enjoyed them. Even now, even though his attention was directed towards your pussy, he subconsciously was giving your marks the same affection.

This is what led you to your downfall. The tracing of figure-eights over your clit mixed with the tender rubbing of your outer thighs sent you into overdrive, causing you to ruck your hips up to meet his distancing mouth, and countless curses and moans to leave your mouth.

That familiar knot in your navel tightened, and the moment he inserted his two fingers into you mixed with the sucking on your clit, you let loose, the knot coming undone.

And, holy heck were you exhausted.

You were seeing stars as Harry coaxed you down from your high, peppering those same stretch marks with feverish kisses. Your breathing was erratic, and your vision was blurry, and you think you’ve reached ultimate nirvana.

The moment your eyes began to flutter shut, Harry smacked his hand down onto your ass, causing your eyes to shoot open for the second time that night.

“The movie isn’t over, love, and neither am I.”

#sorry if its a little crappy.. tis late and all 🥴#harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles soft #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles

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rigelmejo · 4 years

Text

yo ok so, if anyone cares lol

i do think reading in chinese is still quite frustrating for me. i just think like, because of my past experience studying japanese, the perspective that gave me just makes chinese ‘feel’ so much less daunting? in japanese i struggled so much for two YEARS just to be able to follow the bare main idea of like a simple slice of life chapter in a manga. To just follow the bare minimum. To just look at a youtube title in japanese and be able to roughly even guess what it’s about.

So like, by the time i made those small goals in japanese, i had been trying to read for 2 years. So just that small amount of comprehension was absolutely amazing to me and such a huge milestone.

So when i went into learning chinese, i already had the perspective of like ‘if i can even read some simple very common word sentences in 2 years and understand the basic main idea in them, i will be doing absolutely Fantastic!’

Needless to say, with chinese i had learned from past mistakes and made a much better study plan and had a better grasp of what tasks give me improvement versus lead me to procrastinating and restudying material i should progress past instead.

So in chinese i actually have progressed much better in my reading progress than i dared to dream i possibly would! it is still far far away from of course my eventual goal - to be able to read the stories i want somewhat comfortably. But i am already far past the goal i planned to reach in 2 years, and i am already at the point i can at least slog though chinese novels with a dictionary at a slow pace (which is more than i ever managed in japanese in over twice the time spent studying). and i’m already at the point where i can pick up a manhua and follow the main idea of the chapters without a dictionary (which took like 10 months in chinese, compared to 2.5 in japanese study ;-; ). so i at least know i’m on the right track, and clearly making progress. while reading is still an intense challenge every time, it drains my brain just a little less the more and more i do it, and i see more steady progress than i had ever hoped - which definitely encourages me to keep working at it and trying it more.

at the end of the day like, studying japanese before gave me this idea that i will be completely okay if i can’t read the most basic things until 2 years in, and if i can’t read anything but a few simple stories with a dictionary slog until 4 years in, and without a dictionary on simple stuff might well take 6 or 8+ years. so i don’t put stress on myself so much because i know like... realistically for my general progress in languages, it might well take that long easily.

and in contrast, chinese has really shown me how MUCH i held myself back in japanese by NOT throwing myself immediately into the deep end often. In japanese, I did not even TRY to read things outside a textbook until after year 1, and i always limited myself to manga and tweets and youtube videos, because i assumed if they felt hard anything else would be absolutely insurmountable. I suspect me picking materials that did not challenge me as much, and being afraid to challenge myself more, held back the speed of my progress a lot. It really wasn’t until 2 years into japanese - when i said screw it and started trying to brute force manga, and brute force play kingdom hearts in japanese, that i started making any significant gains in comprehension. With chinese, I tried to apply that lesson, and i remember trying to brute force the first chapter of Guardian as early as months 2-5. And trying to brute force mzds prologue in like month 3. And i remember seeing advice about immersion, and deciding ‘screw it’ and trying to just get myself to watch chinese shows without english subs around month 5 onward. And trying to get myself to read actual novels (easier ones, and graded readers lol) around month 6-7. At first yeah i was completely unprepared - but damn if it did not motivate me to RUSH through learning 2000 common words so i would be drowning less! Damn if it did not motivate me to learn 800 hanzi in my first 5 months, then 1000 more by month 10. I realized i learn faster when i just push myself - or at least, i get much more motivated and get a much clearer idea of what i may need to study more in order to be better at the thing i want to do. I didn’t make any progress in speaking/writing until i joined a language exchange app in month 5+ - and had huge motivation to learn common conversational words so i could respond to people quicker, and use translators less frequently when people talked to me etc. Like... yeah i know i threw myself into the deep end constantly. but also, i don’t think i would’ve covered so much ground, because of my personal learning style, if i hadn’t. I 100% think i’ve met my japanese progress and surpassed it in half the time of chinese study, because i did what ‘worked’ in japanese immediately with chinese and just. Tried to do more of it when i could...

But anyway. My point is like - i went into chinese reading expecting that any sliver of comprehension improvement over the span of years, would be exceptionally good progress for me. So anything even surpassing that a little, motivates me a ton. I’m never expecting perfection, because i’ve struggled with trying to improve reading before in another language where it took a lot of effort for me to even reach a bare minimum. So at least i know i can look at what i’ve done in the past, and know there’s a timeline i can likely follow to predict the minimum of how i’ll make progress. And then also, i’ve tried to take what i did notice helped me in studying, and apply it a lot more to chinese. So it has been very motivating to see the parts of study i felt worked - actually working lol. Since when i studied japanese (and french a bit before that), it was a lot of me stumbling in the dark and doing random stuff, progressing like ??? and trying to figure out what even helped me improve.

i think the point i am trying to make is to not be hard on yourself. absolutely any progress, no matter how slow, is great! is admirable! is a show of your hard work, and also of you doing all the exploration to discover what even works for you versus does not work for your personal study! you don’t have to be hard on yourself for not reaching ‘perfection’ by a set date, improvement is a process, and so much of it is simply learning How you progress, what helps you progress versus stalls you, and what is normal progress for yourself (rather than for others, because we all improve at different speeds and by doing different things).

#rant #comparison #yes i realize this reflection may only make sense to me

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