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xhollandlilsx · 1 year

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Red Card (pt 2) - (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Concept- Leah and Y/N have been broken up for months, but things kick off when Leah gets jealous during the game against Y/Ns team.

Warnings: Shit Ending.

Pt 1 << Here.

“You ready?” Ella asked as I sat down next to her on the bus, we were still waiting for a few players to arrive but because of the cold they let us on the coach early.

“Of course!” I replied excitedly. The recovery period was awful. 6 weeks of not playing, my first training session back I could not keep up, I knew I’d be on the bench at the start of the game, Marc had an idea of me being a ‘Super Sub’.

I’d only been back for one game before international break started and we were thrown into the England base camp, we had a game against

“You heard from-“

“Yep. A good amount of messages and calls”

“Did you answer?” She asked as we waited at a traffic light and I put ABBA on for her.

“Nope.” I sighed, “She tried to talk to me at training this week too, I just walked away, I couldn’t.”

She did refrain from asking any more, when she realised my tone had changed. It hurt me to ignore Leah but she messed up. Big time.

I pulled my AirPods from my England puffer jacket I had wrapped around me, and offered one to Ella. I wanted to get my head in focus, so I put mine in as Ella shrugged and accepted it putting it in her ear.

*******

We got off the coach and I took a deep breath, before stepping off after Lucy, I’d spent the week with Georgia, Lucy and Kiera, whenever they weren’t with Leah. I wasn’t petty, I was pissed off.

I looked into the camera to the right of us as we walked into Wembley, preparing for the game against Brazil. Raised a fist up and silently cheered before laughing and carrying on walking.

We all made our way to the changing room as I walked over to my shirt, putting my duffel bag on the floor. I smiled at my name in big letters along with the number 11, taking a deep breath I left it on its hanger and sat under it, seeing Georgia pull her phone out and take a photo, so I posed for it before grabbing my shin pads and throwing them on under my joggers.

When it was time to go out and warm up, the atmosphere was insane, ever since the euros there has been a massive influx of fans. I jogged over to the other side line, as fans cheered and clapped, I ran along side Alessia and Chloe. All of us running almost in waves to the side line as fans cheered, the three of us ran over and started to pass one of the balls back and forth between us.

“You alright?” I asked Less, as she looked slightly nervous, like something was bothering her.

“Yeah!” She smiled before kicking the ball to Chloe.

After we’d all warmed up, we began to walk back inside. I shoved my hands in my pockets, only taking them out to wave at a few fans sat around the tunnel.

*******

The game kicked off, and I was not in the starting eleven. If I’m honest I didn’t want to be. I liked the idea of being a ‘super sub’ for this game, I knew the way Brazil operated.

I sat on the side rubbing my hands together trying to generate some heat, the whistle blew for the kick off after everyone took the knee.

The game started off with England having most possession, but Brazil were putting up a good fight. I spent most of the first half an hour ruining my vocal chords, screaming and shouting while sat next to Alessia and Nikita.

“We aren’t playing wide enough” Nikita spoke as she watched. I nodded before I saw one of the Brazilian players collide, hard, with Leah.

“Ref!” I shouted from the side line. It was dirty and anyone with eyes could see that. Leah was stopping that player at any opportunity Brazil made, so you could tell the player had enough, “What the fuck!”

I shook my head as I crossed my arms and watched the ref hold up a yellow card, though Leah was limping back into position.

“Serena, how long?” I asked, hoping to go on soon. My eyes stayed trained on Leah, how she was limping.

“Not yet” She shook her head, I trusted her more than anything, I knew she was only keeping me off because of my injury, and worry that I wouldn’t be 100% like I usually am.

******

Half way through the second half I saw Serena wave me over. I quickly threw my bib off and warmed up, running up and down the side line a couple times.

I adjusted my socks before the ref called for the substitution, Chloe ran over to me and high-fived me before whispering ‘number 15’ in my ear. Meaning number 18 is gonna be my biggest problem.

I nodded before jogging on and into position, where there was a throw in being taken.

‘Substitution for England, coming off, number eighteen, Chloe Kelly. Being substituted for number eleven, Y/N Y/L/N.’

It always felt good when fans screamed when your name was called out, but nothing like Wembley. The crowd erupted, making Georgia look at me with a ‘what the-‘ look to which I mirrored.

I tucked my fly always behind my ears and waited for the ref to blow the whistle to start again. When she did we were off.

It didn’t take long for me to get the ball from one of their players, passing it out wide to Ella. I didn’t waste any time in running up the pitch, Ella made it around the players coming at her and attempted a cross, at which when I went to connect my foot to it, I felt a huge shove to the back by a pair of hands making me fall forward to my knees.

“What the fuck!” I shouted standing up again, as the ref blew the whistle, almost squaring up to the girl.

“Não havia nada de errado com isso. Eu mal toquei em você!” She argued to which I lost it.

“Você me empurrou pelas costas! Foda-se cara.” I shook my head as the ref came and stood between us, holding up a yellow card, booking her.

“Back into position!” Leah shouted over the fans cheering at the ref’s decision, I shook my head before walking back into position, fans chanting ‘my’ chant, the reaction from fans never ceases to amaze me, especially when you actually look up and see signs with your name on, or backs with your name on.

Around the 80th minute we were drawing 1-1, Leah had been subbed off due to her limp along with Lauren and Fran. My eyes scanned every player wearing a white shirt and nodded to myself a million plays taking place in my head. I waited until I had the ball at my feet, before passing it long out wide to Ella again, only I just about made it to the edge of the box when a cross came in from Ella.

My foot made contact with it sending it above the goalkeepers hands and into the back of the net. Excitement filling my body as I ran over to the side and jumped turning mid air and pointing to the name on the back of my shirt with my thumbs.

The crowd was ecstatic, I smiled as Georgia jumped into my arms. I lifted her up and laughed as a bunch of the other girls ran over and hugged us too. On my run back to my position I looked over to see Leah cheering too ^^, giving me a proud nod.

I kept my head down for the rest of the game managing two more goals in the space of 11 minutes, including five minutes added time. I couldn’t have done it without the amazing assists from the girls but I was happy for once with the way I’d played.

********

On the walk back to the changing room we made our way to the tunnel, and Kiera jumped on my back, messing my ponytail up.

I shook my head before shrugging her off and smiling at a group of fans with their phones out and holding signs up with my name on it. I saw a little girl smiling with her beanie on a little too low and a United shirt with my name on for me to sign.

I shook my head before pointing to the pen in her hand, and mouthing ‘pen’ to her knowing she wouldn’t hear me over the music and the fans, and she threw it down to me. I saw Leah stop beside me looking up in confusion as to what I was doing.

I took my England shirt from over my head and told Leah to turn around so I could sign it on her back. She did so without any protest, silently hoping this was a sign we were good again. I just knew there was no point being at odds when there’s this many cameras on us.

I signed it and wrapped it up in a ball with the pen and threw it up to the little girl. I saw her begin to cry as I blew her a kiss and waved at a few others before walking inside with Leah and now Georgia.

**********

The game ended on a 2-1 win to England, Lucy and I scoring the goals for England. Once in the changing room after I sat next to Georgia as she was wearing number 10, and we were talking about the game when I saw her look over to the other side of the room and nod.

I followed her eyes but there was a few of them, so I didn’t know who she was nodding to.

“Y’alright?” I asked her to which she nodded and closed her duffel bag.

“Please talk to her. I know what happened, and it was shitty. But please” Georgia begged me before walking out with a few of the other girls, leaving just Leah, Ellie and I.

Although I think Ellie got the picture when she looked between us and excused herself taking her half opened bag with her.

“Y/N.” She started before stopping obviously not having planned this out, “You have every reason to hate me. Like really hate me. I already hate myself, If I could take it back I would, I don’t even know what came over me. I was blind with anger.”

“Why?”

“W-when I saw you… with Russo. I lost it… I thought you’d moved on, and I couldn’t bare to see you move on. I know it’s selfish.” She sighed sitting opposite me, resting her elbows on her knees like I was.

“Leah you fractured my ribs.” I told her, with a heavy breath, “Alessia told me you had been giving her the cold shoulder all week too. I told you time and time again when we were together that I had no interest in Less. That I only wanted you, but you never accepted that. But what you did, Leah…”

“I know. God Y/N I know, I hate myself for what I did, when I saw you in that hospital room I was disgusted with myself, and I know I was a dick to you, but Y/N I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I just… I’m not asking you to be with me, I just need you to hear that I’m sorry.”

“I hear you.” I nodded, my tone a little more blunt than I intended to be, before picking my duffel bag up from the floor and attempting to walk out of the door to my left when she shot up and stopped me by placing her hands either side of my cheeks, with a ‘no…’.

We both stumbled slightly before she placed her forehead against mine, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Im sorry, I’m sorry.”

She repeated like a prayer whispering, as I closed my eyes, as much as she hurt me, I couldn’t deny the full feeling in my heart, the small ache when she stood so close to me. We’ve all done things we regret when angry, said things, punched things, threw things, but this wasn’t something I was gonna take lightly.

The way her hair eyes watered as she let a small sob interrupt her ‘sorry’s’. I wrapped my arms around her waist as she wrapped hers around my neck, I sighed, realising no matter what happens, I will love this girl with every fibre of my being.

I knew I couldn’t forgive her fully yet, but I also knew I couldn’t stay mad at her, I wanted to forgive her, but I had to take the first step.

Acceptance.

A/N: I hate this. I hate the ending but oh well, Bon appetite.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo #ella toone #lionesses #wlw imagine #football #lgbtlove #lucy bronze #georgia stanway #england

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paxcallow · 15 days

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Shoutout to your Raz for being a little cutie patootie anyway can you spare a headcanons about him for the poor *holding out my little orphan lad hat*

hehehe thank you also OH BABY YOU KNOW I CAN! i may have like 3 hours before i have to get a train to georgia but i always have time for RAZ and TALKING about RAZ!

PAX RAZ HEADCANONS GO! NO PARTICULAR ORDER OR THEME.

raz becomes pescetarian after the meat circus. i say pescetarian and not vegetarian because of his toxic relationship with Crab Sandwich. crab sandwich is raz's friend. but raz kind of wants to eat crab sandwich.

^ raz is kind of a freak.

like all things, raz picks up hydrokinesis pretty quickly, but for a while the Hand of Galochio Aquato will not grant him access to water deep enough to swim in. he beats himself up over this somewhat because neither queepie or frazie struggle with the hand like he does and while they're learning to swim, he's standing on the surface of the water like jesus.

actually, i feel like the Hand was always the most physically real to raz than any of the others because of his lack of denial about being a psychic. all the others felt the unnatural fear at a body of water and it grew much more violent and undertowed in the presence of the psychics, but a young razputin aquato heard the name "Hand of Galochio" and took that very literally.

sorry for the sadcanons. bonus augustus headcanon for your trouble. this barrier to water is something raz and dad can bond over, because while augustus can physically get in the water, he is utter ass at swimming and learns it the slowest of anyone in the family. he is so brave but after a lifetime of water curse, being in it feels the most unnatural. you know that clip from golden boy of kintaro(?) drowning all the way across the pool before turning around and very badassly going "So! How do you like my swimming. >:)" that's augustus while raz runs across the water beside him cheering him on.

he got his goggles from true psychic tales magazine, but he uses them now mostly to combat visual overstimulation. it takes him several years to realize that's what he's doing. projecting through a psi portal is very visually intense and that's why raz is convinced for the longest time that those things actually did anything psychic.

a combination of what donatella calls "sibling survival instinct" being surrounded by so many kids his age at camp, needing to blow off steam after just having run away from home, and wanting to make a good impression at his big new job is what explains the difference in raz's rudeness between psychonauts 1 and 2. in psychonauts 3, raz is going to repeatedly say some out of pocket shit to some fellow kids and then feel really guilty because he's a professional now.

i know i've said this before but it bears repeating that raz is a little menace about tickling. he just genuinely likes it and can't imagine that anyone might not. but he's soooooo shy so his primary way of getting tickles himself is being a little shit. that tends to do the trick. he's definitely not extremely obvious about it every single time. everyone totally doesn't know what he's doing.

raz proudly eats food off the floor. raz thinks wasting food is a crime!! he'll eat your leftovers. he'll drink the rest of your soda. he'll eat the other half of your sandwich. empty your unwanted snax into the grumpus that is razputin aquato.

this is sometimes the only way to get him to eat because often he forgets to until his stomach is screaming at him to spare its life. when he is very focused on something for a while, raz's neglect of himself hits him all at once. man im tired- ooh wait im hungry- oh im thirsty too- AH my eyes hurt have i not been blinking- whoa how is it after midnight already- OUCH i have a headache! my feet hurt! etc. he. needs people looking out for him.

raz is going to be a really good dad one day.

raz knows he is cute. intellectually. he uses this to his advantage to subtly manipulate adults into letting things slide or giving him floor bacon. but he has not internalized the fact that he is genuinely a little cutie pie not through his genetics and social engineering skills, but by being a little dorky smush face who is always earnest, borderline transparent, so so so brave, easily embarrassed, wanting to be friends with everyone, being a little baby bean,[i am slowly dragged off the stage with a cane]

#psychonauts #razputin aquato #not art #headcanons #i got carried away #uh oh i missed my train!#there are more. there are so many more. these are what i could think up right now

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itslikeaspaceship · 1 year

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@sarahspancakes lil headcanon.

5 times Ellie sneaks a cat into the house and the one time Joel lets her:

The first time she tried to sneak home a cat was on her way home from school.

It was the dead of winter and a big, I mean big, cat was curled up next to the school doors, tail swishing back and forth as it locked eyes with Ellie. Her face lit up as she struggled to pick up the calico, grunting at the weight of the animal.

“Holy shit.” She whispered, “what the hell did you eat?” She held the thing beneath her arm, the animal meowing every five seconds. Ellie kept apologizing, trying to readjust the cat in her hold. But the thing was to heavy to simply just carry.

“God you’re like Joel’s rifle or something. Did he get you pregnant to?” She giggled at herself as she rounded the corner for home, already thinking of how she was gonna plead her case to Joel. But it only took five steps inside the house, a single mewl, and an exasperated Joel, to make Ellie understand that this was not happening.

“But Joel-”

“Absolutely not Ellie. Now go put that thing back where you found it before it eats you to.” She whined, stomping back outside the house.

“Stupid Joel.”

Attempt number two she swore she was being sneaky. She’d been at the stables, enjoying her time with Shimmer, when an orange cat came waltzing up into the stall, rubbing itself against Ellie’s legs.

“Well hi there.” She whispered, scratching the cat behind its ears. “I’ve never seen you before.” The cat meowed right on time, making Ellie grin as she bent over to pick up the tabby. “I’m taking you home with me.”

She shuffled outside of the stall, ripping open her backpack and shoving the thrashing cat in there. “It’s just for a little bit okay, until I can get you to my room.” She gave the cat a kiss, leaving a small hole for it to breathe from.

The entire walk home she couldn’t help but grin. Joel would never catch her this time. She pounded up the steps, stopping when she noticed Joel’s sleeping figure on the rocking chair. “Oh shit.” She whispered, trying to make her footsteps quieter. She got to the door thinking she was in the clear, until Joel’s voice rang in her ears.

“Ellie, put the cat back outside.”

“Uh what cat.”

He sighed, and she felt a hand grab her back pack strap. “The one in here.”

She groaned, spinning on her heels. “But Joooeeeelllll.”

“No this is not up for discussion. Get rid of the thing, we don’t need another mouth to feed.”

“Dammit.”

Attempt three and four were at the same time. Fat cat from the school had actually been pregnant and given birth to kittens. And Ellie waited weeks for them to be ready before sneaking off with two little black ones. They were much quieter then the two she’d tried before and she could easily fit them into her pocket. Joel would never notice.

And she was right, for about a week. She’d kept them fed with little pieces of meat, small enough that Joel would never notice, and made sure they had plenty to drink. They stayed hidden away in her room and she took them outside every morning before he woke up and every night after he went to sleep. She was doing good.

Until she wasn’t. It was a rainy day, a good day for naps. And Joel was supposed to be out on patrol with Tommy all day, so she figured, one nap on the couch couldn’t hurt. Grabbing the kittens, who she named Bill and Frank, she cuddled up in the corner, pulling them to her chest and wrapping a blanket around all of them.

She’d wake up before Joel got home, she was sure of it.

But boy was she wrong, Joel came waltzing in, stopping in his tracks when he saw three people snuggled on his couch instead of just one.

“Ellie.” He sighed, walking up to her. When he woke her up, telling her she had to put them back, she thought he was just being mean. And this time she actually got upset.

“I don��t understand why I can’t just have them Joel. They’re not doing anything. Please.”

“I’m sorry baby, we can’t. They don’t belong to us.”

But what she didn’t know, was that he really didn’t want to make her get rid of these ones. Because he’d known the entire time she’d had them, and instead of putting them back, he’d spent the whole week arguing with the mom of their mom to just let them keep the kittens.

But the lady was old, and he knew he didn’t stand a chance. So he promised he’d bring them back.

“I’m sorry Ellie.” He said again.

He hated seeing her this upset, I mean, Ellie actually cried. And he apologized profusely, trying to make her understand it was not his fault. But she didn’t believe him and stomped away to her room. Ignoring his apologies.

Ellie didn’t ask again after that, didn’t even try. She was tired of liking cats and getting hurt because fucking Joel didn’t want them. She was convinced she’d be alone forever, mumbling to herself about it one day after school.

“You don’t want me to have a cat, then fine I won’t get one.” She mused out loud, laying her back pack and shoes all along the front walkway.

She made her way to the kitchen, her mind on a one way track for snacks. But a small furry little thing sitting on the table caught her eye.

“Surprise.” Joel said, walking in from his hiding place on the stairs.

“Joel what the hell is this?” She whispered, going to pick up the little orange kitty. It had a red bow on its neck and everything.

“Turns out that orange tabby you brought home was a dad.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, was down at the stables earlier and saw him going after this little guy, cause you know the whole dad cats eat-” He stopped when he saw the look of utter horror on Ellie’s face. “Anyway, grabbed him for ya. Figured you could use the company.”

Her face was frozen for a moment as she just stared at the kitten, trying to decide if it was real or not.

“We can just take him back if you don’t like him I mean-” But she’d already sat the kitten down and rammed herself into his stomach, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you thank you thank you.”

He smiled to himself, laying a kiss on her forehead. “You’re welcome baby girl.” She pulled away, grabbing the little kitten and bringing it up to show Joel.

He pushed the cat away from his face, giving Ellie a death stare. “Please stop doing that.”

She just giggled as the cat started pawing at his nose. “What should we name him?”

Joel looked down, poking the cats belly. “Her, what should we name her?”

“Oh neat, it’s a girl.”

Joel smiled at that, staring at Ellie with a wide grin on his face. “You thinking what I’m thinking.”

“Sally.” She whispered, leaning her head onto his arm.

“Sally fuckin ride.” They said at the same time.

And Joel felt as if now, his family was complete.

#Tehe #ellie williams #joel and ellie #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #I loved writing this so much #and will I most likely be putting Sally in other headcanons #why yes #yes I will

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wasyago · 7 months

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episode 110 spoilers

just like, random thoughts and stuff, mostly bits that i remembered

i sat down to write this i forgot everything oh my god--

in chip's flashback. the black rose pirates following the king to the big sakura tree, and arlin holding baby chip's hand. this. the cutest shit ever, i think i almost cried at the image of this big badass group of pirates and this itty bitty child led gently by his hand. even if i didn't cry before i sure will right now, baby chip you're so dear to me...

QUEEN! they didn't remember anything aughhhhh 😭😭😭😭 and their and chip's little talk about how they're going to put the pieces together :( and their hug :(

whatever drey, finn and earl are doing on the ship... like, what? hello? glad they're having fun tho lol. also wait hold on a second. how did drey answer the call? i mean, probably with his leg or something, if i had to guess. or maybe finn held it up for him. not sure if finn is at it enough to be able to answer the shell by himself, so earl and drey are the only ones who can actually use it. and seing how earl is in a... predicament. hm.

jay saying that when she looks at gillion she sees family. AUGHHHHHHHHHH AUGH AUGH OUGH jay ferin i love you. and this is so important to me not only because like hell yes they're more than friends they're a family, but also for jay of all people, considering her relationship with her blood tied family and how complicated her relationship with this word is.

also girl please do something about your leg, im begging you. the bone is visible, this shit is not going to heal up by itself. i dont know how you're still limping around this must hurt so bad. i guess adrenalin maybe, but still. at least get some bandages or something, i don't know... what is it with jay and her legs actually. she fell off a roof in edison kingdom and landed on a piece of metal that fucked up her leg, and now this.

oh my god niklaus, how could i forget about my babygirl. i mean, what can i say i love this guy. i dont know how many times ive relistened to his intro song, but definitely more than i should've... um. there was a lot of big important lore that i don't have the brain capacity to process rn.... i want to say that niki is the nameless prince and/or the thing trapped in the hole in the sea. because he can only interact with one person at a time by inviting them to his pocket dimension (even with jay it was said that the time around her stopped while she was talking with niklaus), implying that niki is trapped somewhere and this is the only constricted way he can interact with the world. and to answer chip's questions he said he wants freedom more than anything, again implying that right now he doesn't have this freedom. which makes sense, right? but then, the big bad thing was supposedly trapped thousands of years ago (i think?), but niklaus was a world famous pirate lord not so long ago and not trapped anywhere, so.....? idk im probably missing something. can't for the life of me find the moment where they read the nameless prince book so like, whatever.

that moment where jay talked to chip about how she thinks its all her fault and she should've just gave up her arm and leg. and how chip reassures her....... them 🥺🤲 kind of inspired by that post abt chip and jay i reblogged earlier, but these two talking about their emotions and feelings is so dear to me. just, being human with each other and opening up. gill is great ofc, but i feel like for these two its much easier to talk to each other to feel understood and heard. i love them.....

chip is still very much dead and probably won't be resurrected any time soon, so... hooray new undead chip design! but also oh my god my poor boy... forever 19... (also charlie and condi being surprised that chip is only 19. yeah </3) my poor guy my poor baby, he sounds so beaten and depressed in the beginning of the episode, its just breaking my heart qwq...

star and zamia <333 hehe

chip trying to marry igneous. lol. darling chill out, you just got out of one unsuccessful marriage and it didn't teach you anything, you're dead, you're only 19, you've known this guy for like, 2 days? don't get me wrong, godspeed to chip, but cmon man take him out to dinner first or something

and uhhh. the end, that's all i got

#yagotalk #jrwi riptide spoilers #jrwi spoilers #riptide spoilers

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makasdisaster · 2 years

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so i did it OAO, here’s the plushie small fic i was thinking about, lets call it-

Teasing (Katsuki Bakugou x reader)

(i’m not the best at writing so let me know if there’s anything i should fix, i did try tho ><‘, please DONT take my work or repost it as yours) {minors don’t interact you’ll be blocked}

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

its the afternoon and you're tired but you force yourself to slip out of your boyfriends arms that are too preoccupied holing up his phone to keep a firm enough grip on you to keep you laying in place beside him, "oi, where you goin'?" Katsuki asks shifting his eyes lazily from the screen just as you start garbing your things from his side table "I'm gonna run to the store real quick, i need to get a few thing before they close" you finish zipping up your bag slinging it over your shoulder opening his bedroom door "now you be a good boy and stay here, I'll be right back k? good doggie, try not to miss me too much~"

you're such a tease but that what he loves about you the most, that you can mess with him just as much he does to you and not have to worry because you both don't take any of it too heart “hah~, not the fuck alone you don't-" almost dropping his phone Katsuki practically jumps off his bed grabbing his wallet stuffing his things in his pockets chasing after you down the stairs

after a short car ride to the closes target with some fun toons of your choosing you both make your way inside and to the back getting the things you came for

"i think that's about everything we needed but before we go can we go look at one more thing?" holding the list you made on the car ride closer to yourself, you slightly lean closer into Katsu's personal bubble then he'd like in public with a big smile waiting for his approval "fine, but make that shit fast go it? i don't want to be here any longer that they end up escorting us out" roiling his eyes softly Katsu' continues to push the cart following your now existed form towards the toys

"gaasp, they have it" rushing into the Ille of stuffies you grab a medium sized scruffy looking cream bear that oddly has a few of the same colors as Katsuki"s hearo costume worked into the robin around its neck, it even looks upset just like his signature frowned expression "Isn't it just the cutest ever?" confused with a grossed gaze, Katsuki pushes it gently out of his face looking at you like you've just waisted his time "what are you five? you don't need that crap" with a pout you put it in the baby seat of the cart "oh hush, its the only one im gettin' an plus its a limited edition, they only made five so i gotta'"

you both start walking to the regsters to pay "ya' know, if you wanted something that looked like me to sleep with, we could've skip this lil' trip an' stayed in bed" you blush softly almost stopping in your tracks "i.i dont know what you're talkin' about" he knows you know he figured it out so that means he's going to keep this over you for as long as he can "whatever you say princess, ill just have to make you get the rest then~"

----

when packing up the car Katsu' makes sure the teasing starts as soon as posable, setting the bear in the drivers seat before you get in the passenger side "wa-" you swear you can here him laughing to himself from outside the car.

- - - -

once you both get back to his place you put down the bear paying it no mind as you have to put away all the food an other essentials before you can make your way back towards his room wanting to chill,

after all the work you've just done you make it up the stairs to Katsu’s room only to open the door an find the bear once again sitting in his place but this time on the bed wearing his boxers an holding his phone just like how he would be once returning home "! REALLY KATSUK!?" and just like that right on cue Katsuki's down stairs losing his shit, oh he's going to make this a habit and you're going to suffer finding this thing allover the place till he gets bored but seeing as he didn't make you leave it back at the store means out of all the plushies you've left at his place he minds this one the least because unlike the others, it’s of your favorite person.

#how we feelin?#my first fic #bakugou x reader #short fic #hope it doesn’t seem rushed #bakugou fic #fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki fluff #x reader fluff #makabe’s_fic #mdi #baku!plushie abuse

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pro-crastinate17 · 6 months

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hello this will be a reaction to black friday starkid because i like to talk about the things i like

(it ended up only being act 1 bc it got super long lol)

ths is only my third time watching it and the first time was like. 2 years ago (the second time was only a few months ago but i didnt absorb enough or write this so here we go again)

will be VERY long btw

in the jingle when angelas sniggle says "we're the sniggles! don't be scared!" she winks when she says dont be scared. this is. foreshadowing :thumbsup:

never getting over "hes deep down in drowsy town, sleepng the dreamless sleep of the dead!"

also JAMES TOLBERT!!!!! his VOICE im so <3 [heart]

also oh my god im reading WAY too far into this but. "hes riding santas sleigh cause hes friends with all the elves" wigglys main allies are uncle wiley and linda monroe, who are played by joey and lauren, who both play elves in santa claus is going to high school!!!

OUGH i love the announcer whose voice is that?? it is reminiscent of big bill hells lol

"i wanted a salad, but now i have a child" never gets old lol. also the exposition in this scene is FLAWLESS mwah

THE LA DI DA DA DAY MOTIF IN THE BACKGROUND LMAO (it is definitely NOT a la di da da day)

"i do not get flashbacks!!! ...i remember bad things vividly." TOM IS SO ME CODED LOL

emma doing paul's "okay" thing gives me LIFE

DYLAN SAUNDERS APPRECIATION MOMENT i love tom houston so much i love dylan saunders oh my goodness gracious literally flawless acting !!! and his VOICE i cant even (also him holding up his hands like the steering wheel is such good foreshadowing for him having been the one driving!!)

tom is COMPLETELY unable to read sarcasm. tom houston autism confirmed. (/silly)

OK OK I KNOW that "bud" is a common way to refer to weed. however. lex smoking weed in hatchetfield and says "bud" specifically?? PERKYS BUDS REFERENCE!

the "to nordstrom? ah shiiit!" he sounds so canadian?? i cant be the only one hearing this lol what was that

COREY DORRIS APPRECIATION MOMENT!!!!! HIS VOICE HIS ACTING HES SOOOO <3 [heart] also the frank and uncle wiley interaction is SO FUNNY !!! and the condescension paired with calling lex "alexandra" is a rlly good way to make it obvious how icky frank is i love it

"honest?" "cross my heart, hope to die" BUT HE WAS LYING AND THEN HE DIES. I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE STARKID

am i the only one whos curious about the gerald cinnabon story lmao. what did he DO that was so bad that gary goldstein attorney at law couldnt save him from the consequences?

"thats called a BRIBE and its ILLEGAL!!!" *skeptical look* "...or it SHOULD be." IM GIGGLING

im osrry the "my CHILDREN were accidents" line KILLS ME lmao. esp bc she literally IS making it everyone elses problem (by demanding 4 wigglys)!!

ik this fandom talks a lot about "stop crying gerald i wasnt talking to you" but i dont think we pay enough attention to lindas stanley monologue. like holy shit.

ALSO TOM TAKES THE SPOT BEHIND BECKY IN LINE AND DOESNT PAY ANYONE and no one even notces bc theyre all too busy gossiping lmao also what do you say is SUCH a good song aaaa!!! (why is the homeless man so invested on

"tHe YeArS hAvE pAsSeD"

FRANK MY BELOVED I LOOOVE OUR DOORS ARE OPEN

unrelated but i just noticed curt (the farmer who has peanuts the hatchetfield pocket squirrel during what if tomorrow comes) does not currently have peanuts the hatchetfield pocket squirrel! how does he come to be in possession of peanuts? was peanuts also drawn to wiggly (since he is canonically a sentient being?) what is really going on here? maybe this was the real conspiracy all along /silly

JEFF BLIM WIGGLY HANDS (also distinctly resembles the wiggly hands jon does as wiggly in npmd!!)

also feast or famine is an INCREDIBLE song like actually AAAAAA !!! chaos reigns!!!

is ethan wearing a kilt? or a skirt?? also him saying "more bad" instead of worse GIGGLE

tom scaring gary off just by looking scary is PEAK comedy i take no criticism

"aHhH yUmMy!!!!!"

"I HAVE A HAIR APPOINTMENT TODAAAAAAAAAY"

the resurgence of hello naughty list?? does sthat mean uncle wiley originally wanted lex to be the prophet. DOES THAT MEAN UNCLE WILEY ORIGINALLY WANTED LEX TO BE THE PROPHET.

i cant stop saying "i have pepper spray and i use it more than you can possibly imagine", also "ohh i dont know if you wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna FUCK with me miss monroe" ITS SO SILLY

when he sings the little "why should you give when you can get" BE STILL MY HEART (i have gender envy for joey richter)

"all you gotta do is just do what you do best-" "SHOP." "-be a mother." "...right." I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC.

"yEs I fUcKiNg SeE hIm"

i never noticed bob is a parody of obama lmao ALSO HIM COMFORTING WIGGLY AFTER HOWIE CALLS HIM A FUCKING WEIRD LITTLE MONSTER LMAO

"iLL bItE yOuR nIpPLe OfF"

the way the wiggly is damaged is NOT what wouldve happened from being shot. but thats ok bc its my babygirl general john macnamara <3 [heart]

MONSTERS AND MEN IS SO GOOD. I LOVE JEFFS VOICE SM JEFF BLIM APPRECATION MOMENT !!!!! also he looks Rigjt at the camera when he says "its nothing on your phone" GIGGLE

#black friday starkid #black friday musical #starkid #words from my weird little brain

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sabraeal · 8 months

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Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @sepalina's birthday, who deliberated for two days only to suddenly remember, oh yes right she has a favorite fic 🤣

That Seiran chick might have a princess’s pedigree around here, but there’s nothing dainty about the way she grips the metal bar at the end of each of their cots, twisting her wrists like she’s picturing flesh and bone rather than steel.

“You two have to be the biggest boneheads I have ever seen stuffed into a drive suit.” Her fingers clench, and Obi could swear the mental dints. “A bare knuckle brawl in the dome? At a time like this? Are you two insane?”

“Ah, well…” The Big Guy may have looked tough when Obi took him to the mats, a more solid anti-kaiju wall than anything the PDPC could toss into the Pacific, but he cringes just like any other mortal would when Kiki Seiran looms over him, all her disappointment honed to a point. “It wasn’t really a brawl. Just a…regulated spar, like usual—“

“Usual?” Her arms fold the way steel does into rebar, and oh, the princess is not amused. “Obi’s more bruise than bone.”

“Aw, Princess,” he croons, trying not to wince from the effort. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Her spine straightens, giving her all the extra inches she needs to give that glare of hers momentum, hitting him like a body off the Golden Gate hits the bay. “I can see the other guy. You’re both in the same infirmary, because you’re the same amount of stupid.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering about the logic on that one.” He tilts his head, trying to go for that doleful dog stare that does wonders on sweet little nurses with hearts of gold. Too bad he’s got Yuzuri, who only wrenches his head back to the side, holding him still enough to swab when the skin’s split over his cheekbone. “Is this our— yikes, careful there, Florence— get along shirt or something? Two guys take some swings and you hope sticking us in a bottle sorts it out?”

“No,” she deadpans, taking a pen light out from the pocket of her scrubs. “I’m trying to quarantine the idiocy. You better be careful, Major” —she casts a long glance princess-side— “it might be catching.”

That regal mouth twitches, somewhere in the realm of amused. “Too late for me. No one ends up in a drive suit unless they’re born with it.”

“Ha, that’s for sure.” A light sears across his line of sight, leaving constellations in its wake. “As for you two, I didn’t see the point in sending you to your corners when you’re so friendly. Saves me space, and you can treat tonight like a sleepover. Braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys.”

“Er…” How a big man like that can go through basic and still blush as easy as a school girl, Obi will never know, but it’s funny as hell. “I don’t really have opinions on cute boys…”

“Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he grunts, snuggling his shoulders into the pillows at his back. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

That gets him a real side-eye from GI Joe, one that only ends when he swings those golden retriever eyes onto the real authority in this room. “Is there any way I get to go back to my bunk tonight?”

“Sorry, Major.” No matter what she says, Yuzuri’s shrug doesn’t give a single hint of regret. “Gotta keep you both on observation. SOP for rangers with head injuries. Last thing we need is for you guys to hare off and play hero just because you heard the dinner bell.”

He grimaces, all perfect teeth in a perfect face. Pity this guy fell into the military before someone could get him a magazine cover. Obi would have loved to hang that pin-up over his bunk. “Ah, right. That…makes sense.”

Of course it did. They might all be kaiju-fodder in the end, but they were the expensive, top shelf shit. The kind the PDPC wanted to stretch out as long as possible, not waste on some idiot who went into the drift concussed and had his brain melt right out his ears for the effort. Obi half surprised they haven’t been shoved into an MRI just to make sure.

“Aww, but you don’t really want to leave, do you, bestie? Not when we’re gonna have so much fun.” The target of his grin shifts from bed to bedside. “What do you think, Yuzuri? Think we could borrow some ManGo For It or Red Hot Rio?”

“I dunno,” she deadpans, not even looking up from her notes. “I think he’s more of Rosy Future guy.”

“Really? Still running your mouth?” Her Highness tosses her head, more pony than princess. “Did you not get beat bad enough?”

“What, this little mosquito bite?” Obi gives his jaw a good clench and turn, displaying his medal of honor at its best angle. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it to see even Princess get squeamish. “Lucky shot. I got three hits for his one.”

Her mouth does that thing it does, that twitch, the one he’s starting to figure out is a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s all he needed to make you crumple like a tin can.”

“I already said I felt bad about that,” Big Guy grumbles, all folded in on himself like a teddy bear longing for a good squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to…well…”

“It’s okay, Superman, we all know you’re living in a world of cardboard.” Obi leans over, giving one of those meaty shoulders a good pat. Probably feels like a whisper to a man that stacked. “How can I blame you, when you were only defending milady’s honor—?”

Her weight shifts, no longer balanced parade-style between their cots, but sitting back in her hips, displeasure heavily implied. That man-sized mountain straightens so much it Obi can practically feel the plate tectonics beneath his palm.

“I was not!” Big puppy eyes swing right around to the ticking time bomb at the end of their beds. “I would never do that!”

One elegant eyebrow arches, and ah, now he can see why half the PDPC pisses itself when she punches the bag right off its chain. Most of the rangers the Academy rolls out are brawlers, the kind of guys that get in between a kaiju’s punch and the Pacific coastline, but this girl— her power’s in the application of force, the art of finessing a blow to where the bones can’t bear it. Can’t get into a brawl with a fighter like that and expect an old fashioned beatdown, oh no— when princess steps on the mats, she doesn’t fight, she dismantles.

Ha, and by the way she chucks her chin, all challenge, she knows it.

Now how about that. It’s a whisper in his ear, a hum across the million and one electric impulses in his brain, dangerous and fond. Remind you of anyone you know?

Knew, maybe. Bright blue smears over stark white when he closes his eyes; suits that stood out, even among halls that housed living legends. Eye-catching, the higher ups had called it, but it caught all the wrong eyes when it came to Sonisay. They all learned, of course; even now he hears the sickening crack of bone, sees the sweep of dark hair as she steps out of her spin—

Not just that. That laugh jangles his nerves, too close to his own and yet infinitely different, inimitable. Not just her.

There’s a boy too, too small, too skinny, too…not enough. Might as well be a shadow for how closely he clings to that same dance, to those same stances. Might as well be a monster for how easily the bones crack under his heels too, no remorse, no regrets—

A boy that shouldn’t exist. A boy that no longer does. Obi closes his eyes.

You can’t look away forever. Too many voices to count on that one. Watch me, only his reply.

“Let me make something clear.” Big Guy’s grunt grounds him, dragging him right back down to his bed, to the finger waggling at him. “Kiki doesn’t need me to fight her fights for her. If she wants to kick someone’s ass, she can make her own bodies.”

Ah, great. Got back just in time to witnessing Bloodbath Barbie over there desire Big Guy carnally. Not that he notices; oh no, the Jolly Marine Giant only has eyes for him, serious as a heart attack. Makes him want to mention that these rickety little med cots can’t handle two ranger pilots going at it, let alone three, but of course Yuzuri’s gotta make it a rain out.

“All right, all right, visiting hours are over,” she sighs, and oh, by Princess’s look, this is the first time someone’s tried to shoo Kiki Seiran out of anywhere. “These boys need some rest, not an audience. Just gonna rile ‘em up.”

This guy benches almost twice Obi’s weight, a monster of a man, but the second Yuzuri aims that scold his way, he’s all puppy. “But I wouldn’t—”

“You might behave, but he won’t.” She jerks a thumb back where Obi lounges, pointed. “And if he doesn’t want to play nice, he’ll find some way to drag you along with him.”

Sounds about right, hums a nuisance that has no right to throw stones. Not at this particular glass house, at least.

“Me?” Obi a presses a hand to his chest; harder to see it tremble that way. “Why, I was only going to take a small snooze. A cat nap, really. How could I—?”

“No sleeping!” Yuzuri glares at him, incredulous. “Didn’t I just say you could have a concussion?”

“Aww, come on,” he sighs, hooking his hands behind his head. “First no fighting, now no napping? What else are we supposed to get up to in here?”

Princess hangs in the gap of their curtain coverage, and oh, she may not smile, but that’s one masterclass of a grin. “Strenuous activity.”

“Kiki—!”

“None of that either!” With an officious wave of her hands, Yuzuri succeeds in doing what PDPC has failed to do for years: tell Kiki Seiran where to go. “Now, get. These two don’t need a bad influence.”

“Aww, c’mon, Flo! That’s no reason to shoo Princess out,” Obi whines now that his entertainment has sashayed right out of his evening. “I’m an even worse influence, so—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she sniffs. “Now give it a rest. Or else I’ll call Shirayuki down here, and she can read you the riot act.”

There’s a time he might have laughed. Might even have let one shoulder and a wry eyebrow do the heavy lifting as he said, I’m sure the Good Doctor has better things to do with her time than worry about little old me.

But a week ago he woke up in one of these cots soaked in his own sweat, ears still ringing from a klaxon that never rang. At least, not in this dome, not that day; his stomach churning from the heady brew of trauma and military grade sedatives. He’d turned, half convinced he’d see either six bodies or and empty room, and instead—

It was her. Tiny ponytail and all, clumps of it making a bid for freedom from that poor excuse of an elastic. A borrowed one, all stretched out from trying to contain the fallout from Yuzuri’s nuclear-level event that she calls her hair, but it’s serviceable. Enough to bridge the gap between now and whenever Doc finally decides whether she’s gonna bite the bullet and grow it out again, or just chop the whole thing off.

That’s not the sort of stuff he knows about people. Not the sort of stuff he ever gets close enough to find out. But she was sitting right there, head tipped off the back of that chair, breath trembling the little flyaways splayed over her lips, and—

“Fine,” he sighs, settling back into his pillows. “I’ll play nice.”

Yuzuri snorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

It’s when Big Guy lumbers out of their cozy little curtained love cave to go take a piss— or a shit; Obi might be nosy, but even he’s got his limits— that Yuzuri swoops back to his bedside, using his vitals as an excuse to say, “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

None of her business. There’s a gruffness to that, a texture that implying barbed wire fencing with the prickly bits facing inside. Embarrassment, the kind a boy at the cusp of manhood couldn’t bear with any grace. Not that he had done all that well with other emotions either.

Could never bear being anything but the hero. A taunt, a snipe across the mess hall’s tables. Even in his head those two would never get along.

You can just admit it. Sonisay speaks the way silk would sting, if it could, a smooth stab with no mess left behind. A sliver beneath the fingernail, only noticed when it slips deeper. It’s not as if you were thinking of anything sexual.

Sure. There’s no need for the smile-like stretch over his synapses, too smug. But not from lack of trying.

He appreciates the honesty is the best policy shtick, especially from the girl who always spoke out both sides of her mouth as easy a breathing, but Obi settles on a nice neutral, “What?” instead.

Might earn him the sort of look that begs the question of just what is rattling around between his ears, but it’s better than having to explain that when he closes his eyes he sees red. Not spread out across his pillow or tangled in his fingers, but caught up in plain little hairpins, already slipping free.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darts over the the empty bed beside his, pointed. Oh, so that’s what she’s asking about. “Did you somehow miss how big that man is? He could fit two of you between his shoulders!”

“Aww, Flo, he’s harmless.” Pain shoots up his cheek when he tries to grin, settling somewhere near his temple. Damn, that’s gonna put a real crimp in his game. “Big Guy’s a gentle giant.”

She stares at him. “Half your face is a bruise.”

Obi hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing himself in the mirror lately, but by the way one half of his face feels heavy enough to make him lean like a tower in Pisa, he doubts that’s an exaggeration. “He didn’t mean it though.”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to your capillaries whether he meant it or not.” One finger of hers brushes an eyebrow— yowch— and she scowls. “They’re broken all to shit anyway. God, you’re gonna be lucky if that smile of yours isn’t permanently lopsided from this.”

Already was, but she didn’t ask for his medical history. “I’ll be roguish.”

“You’ll be in PT, that’s what you’ll be.” She pulls back with a cluck of her tongue. “Lucky as hell that he didn’t break your orbital. Ugh, or your nose. That would have been a bitch to set. And your cheekbones—”

A cough, timid for how deep it is, rustles outside the curtain. “Sorry,” Big Guy starts, all doleful hound dog eyes as Yuzuri pulls them back. “I didn’t want to, er, eavesdrop, but…”

He’s smarter than to say, but you told us not to leave. Not to someone like Yuzuri, who’s already ruby red from the collar of her scrubs to her headband, ready to crack out of her shell like a crab left too long in the pot.

“You…I…” She slides out right around him, never once turning her back. “G-go. Lay down. Or something! Ugh!”

Big Guy blinks once at her back before swinging those hound eyes back to him. “Is she—?”

“Embarrassed,” he agrees. Yuzuri’s always happy to share her opinions, up until she get caught. “Big time. She’ll recover. But until then it’ll be your fault.”

“Oh…” He winces, though Obi can hardly tell if it’s from the thought of Yuzuri’s ill-wishes, or the kick he landed on his hip, making what should be an easy walk a bit of a hobble. “I am sorry about that, you know.”

That lantern jaw juts itself toward him, or more specifically, the shiner painted up one side. “This old thing? Don’t worry about it. Got worse from a mosquito.”

If Big Guy is impressed with his bravado, he’s got a funny way of showing it, looking all hangdog like that. “I just…I didn’t really mean to…”

Fuck you up is what the big guy can’t bring himself to say. It’s probably rude to tell him, I’ve had worse.

“No hard feelings, Major.” It’s half a laugh, half a groan as he hauls himself up his pillows, every muscle aching. “I did tell you not to go easy on me.”

A grimace is what he gets in reply, and a pained, “Still…”

The you didn’t know what you were getting into hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Like maybe he’s never fought a guy above his weight class. Like he’s never stood in front of a boy a third again his age, watching his knuckles crack beneath the cloth of his binds.

More like he doesn’t know how much he can mean it, a grim mouth huffs humorlessly. He will though. Give him a few months.

“Didn’t really expect you to try to kill me, though.” For a moment, he’s not quite sure who he’s talking to. He rubs at his jaw, pain scintillating beneath his palm, and, haah, yeah, he knows what fist laid a kiss on this cheek alright. “Damn, no wonder kaiju don’t walk away from you.”

“I wasn’t try to…” It’s funny watching a mountain hunch like that, shoulders riding up again his ears making him a whole range instead a single peak. “With someone who moves like you, there’s only two sure ways to win. I went with the one that relied on power. Wasn’t going to land many hits on you but had to make the ones I did count.”

“And then did too good a job.” That’s the thing with having a body that shares more in common with a jaeger’s chassis than human flesh; the fall back option is to just do everything more and harder. Obi had met more than a few men like that in his time, but none of them so friendly. “I gotta admit though, Big Guy, you got me curious. What’s the other way?”

Big lungs heave big sighs, and oh, this one feels like it could take a few trees with it before he settles back against the headboard. “Tire you out. Quick guys typically don’t have a lot of stamina when things drag on, so—”

“All right, all right, don’t let the ladies hear that one.” Or most of the men while he’s at it, even if Obi’s personal tastes tend more toward the techs tending the tin cans than the bodies they throw in them. “Don’t want anyone to get the idea that I can’t keep up off the mat either.”

That won’t be much of a problem. It’s rare to hear advice from that corner of his mind, but Buma’s habit always was to watch first and speak too late. Not with all the training you’ve done outside—

That’s Need To Know only. Obi casts a long glance over where giant feet nearly hang off the mattress. And I don’t think the Major needs to know.

“Anyways,” he huffs, the sort of quiet career boys get when they’re shy. “Sorry.”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Guy. I asked you to bring me a fight and you did! I’m hardly gonna blame you for that.” He turns his head, grinning at him across the poor excuse for a bedside table. “Besides, now I know what it’s like.”

Those puppy eyes blink, too innocent for a guy who could break him in half by breathing. “Hm? Do you mean—?”

His eyebrows lift —well, one of them tries to— enticingly. The wince probably doesn’t do him any favors. “Kissing your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh, it’s a real treat to see a lantern jaw drop so hard it nearly shatters. Too bad Princess isn’t here to enjoy it. “What?”

“You know…” His fingers weave through some hazy dips and lazy dives. “I can see what was good between you and High Highness, or whatever. The way you’d could compensate for each other in the drift. But you and me” — his hand flicks between them— “we don’t fit.”

“Oh.” It’s a pleasure to watch his mouth wrap around that noise, to see him really wrangle with the meat of what his meaning. “Yeah. I get it. I think.”

“I mean, for one thing,” Obi says, so casual. “We’re both bottoms.”

“Come again?”

“Kidding, kidding.” Kind of, Sonisay hums, and oh, he could swear he feels that forked tongue flickering where she coils in his mind. I doubt he’d complain if that blonde woman took it into her head to—

Hey. Maybe if he had a mirror, he could give himself a warning look, the kind Doc was always giving him right before he took a joke too far. But instead he had to settle for just thinking louder, like trying to shout over a crowded bar. I still gotta talk to this guy with a straight face for the next twenty-four hours.

Sounds like, that too-familiar voice hums, a real personal problem.

It’s too bad Major Do-Right over there can’t hear the speculation of the peanut gallery; then he might no be so quick to let relief bring those shoulders relax, to settle back into those pillows with a sigh that speaks of a light conscience. What did Yuzuri say? If Obi doesn’t want to behave, he’ll drag you down with him…?

Well, he hates to disappoint.

“Or am I?” The cot nearly cracks down the middle from how fast the Big Guy turns on it, sputtering. Obi just tosses him a wink. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell.”

For all that their lovely nurse devotedly frets over the potential stupors they could slip into with even the slightest bit of shut eye, or sometimes even something like getting up too fast or breathing too easy, she’s sure eager to encourage them to piss all by their lonesomes one she’s sure they can make the walk.

“What, this doesn’t get you going?” Obi asks, peeking around the door. “I hear some people really get into—”

“I hear some people really don’t get jello at dinner,” she replies, shoving him bodily through the crack. “Wanna see if you’re one of them?”

“What if the stream’s too strong and I get vertigo?” He winces, hearing all those words echo in so small a space, but it’s worth it for the noise she makes outside the door. “What if I crack my head on the floor and get a double concussion?”

“Then at least you’ll be quiet.”

There’s a slam— a door. Not this one, the particle board so paper thin Big Guy could probably sneeze it off its hinges; but the heavier infirmary door, one meant to withstand a mortar shell, maybe even nuclear blast— but Obi doesn’t bother to bite back his grin. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’s run into Suzu on the way to the commissary and give him a full run down of all the ways she could make Obi’s death look like an accident. Some real romantic talk to keep a nerd warm at night.

With shake and a wriggle— how Big Guy managed to move around in here when his elbows keep cracking into the tile, Obi’ll never know— he wraps up his business, sauntering straight out onto the infirmary floor. With no kaiju to keep the place hopping, it’s dark, the only light coming from the lamp angled over Yuzuri’s desk, and from behind their ring of curtains. A nice way to find his way back; or at least it would be if he didn’t already count two shadows there: one hitched up on the bed, shoulder big enough to overflow the outline of the pillows, and the other—

The other’s standing, tall enough to make Big Guy seem normal sized, and radiating authority the same way the sirens do danger.

Ah, fuck. It’s the Marshal. Hide, a cacophony of whispers hiss, which— he’d love to, if there was a single goddamn place to do it.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.” Big Guy doesn’t have a deep voice, not the way the circumference of his chest would suggest, but he’s pitched it low now. Still too much to be contained by a curtain, though.

The Marshal cocks his head, wry. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘yes?’”

There’s a hesitation, a huff that might be something like humor. “No.”

“Then let’s not waste time pretending.” It might be a trick of the acoustics in this room, a little reverb on that tinny echo, but Obi could swear His Majesty sounds amused. “I’ve heard you’ve quite the rapport with our new ranger.”

Oh, hell. As if this isn’t the cherry on top of his shit sundae: not only is he stuck, standing right out in the open as the top brass talks Top Secret, he’s the topic they’re having tea over.

“News travels fast.”

“Danger of living in one of these little warrens.” The Marshal shrugs. “Rats like to chatter.”

Air hisses between Big Guy’s teeth, the way it did right before he threw his haymaker. “Not a lot of people eager to be on the wrong side of the mat from him. Not after the way he and Zen went at it the last time.”

“So you…what?” It’s uncanny how even the Marshal can make his voice; no inflection, no judgment, no answers. “Thought you’d help him keep his edge?”

“He asked.” There’s a rustle, a creak, and even though he can’t see it, he knows mountains are moving to make that shrug. “Not like I’ve got much to be afraid of.”

If one half of his face didn’t feel as ginger as the oldest wicker chair on some grandma’s patio, Obi might take some offense to that. That’s what you get for being so scrawny, a gruff voice scrapes over his ear, everyone underestimates you.

That, hums another, too pleased, is kind of the point.

“Good.” There’s something final in the way the Marshal says it, less like an observation, and more like an assessment. A test passed with much anticipated flying colors. “Keep doing that.”

Obi could cut the consternation in this room with a knife. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Was I not clear?” His Majesty’s tone conveys his confidence that he was. Maybe even too much so. “I’d like you to pursue this…relationship with our new colleague. Foster this tentative trust you have managed to build.”

Ha. Obi’s heart stutter hard enough— loud enough— that even the peanut gallery keeps their opinions to themselves. He should have known something like this would happen; sure, all the paperwork calls Hachimaru a failure, one that should have never flopped its way out of dry dock, but to someone like Izana Wisteria, well—

He’s got a reputation for ruthlessness for a reason. Enough of one that it escaped containment, slipping past the PDPC’s iron curtain of silence to spread around the streets of Sitka. Buildin’ a wall to keep the monsters out, one of the wallmen had chuckled over his pint, but no matter how high we do it, that one will still be in here.

Obi might have called that unfair, once. Sure, His Majesty wasn’t exactly a friendly guy, at least not with the rank and file, though there were magazines enough that showed him being chummy with the higher ups, but, well— pedigree might have put him in a pod, but it wouldn’t have pulled him a position so high above it. No, that only went to the corps' top minds, the ones who knew what it took out there to take your lumps and drag your metal coffin home. The ones who understood what they were asking when they dumped two men out into the Pacific and asked them to stop a natural disaster or die trying.

But if that guy is gonna meddle in his business like this, well, maybe once they finish building that wall, they can dump him over it. Lets the monsters sort it out between themselves. Knowing the Marshal, he’d still find a way to come out on—

“No.”

“No?” The way the Marshal wraps his mouth around the word sends shivers up his arms.

“I can’t do that. I mean, I won’t.” Big Guy snorts, like there’s a stench in the air he can’t quite get rid of. “I’d do a lot for you, sir, I would. Take a bullet. Die for the cause. But I’m not going to…to manipulate that man back into a jaeger for you. Not like this.”

A breath catches in Obi’s throat, nearly choking him. Big Guy’s got a heart of gold, but he can’t possibly be stupid enough to— to—

“Well well.” To his utter surprise, the Marshal laughs. “Good thing that’s not what I’m asking.”

Big Guy grunts. “Isn’t it?”

“If you couldn’t manage to convince my brother into the cockpit, I doubt you’ll have much luck with a man you barely know.” For how casually it’s said, there’s a bite to it, each word honed to sting. “I only meant that he’s not responding to the typically recommended course of therapy.”

Right. Because after that one session with Doc post-drift, all his peanut gallery clamoring to have their turn now that cat had clawed its way out of the bag, he hadn’t been able to drag himself back. And with all the dinners and hallway-run ins they’ve had since, Doc didn’t seem eager to sit him back down on her couch any time soon either.

“But he seems responsive to you, Major Lowen.” Or at least responsive to getting his shit kicked in, whatever that said about him. “Rangers are typically taciturn about their issues. I thought this route might be worth encouraging, since he seems amenable. Sometimes it’s easier for military men to discuss their problems with someone who has gone through the same ones. Especially” —Obi doesn’t need to see his smirk to know it’s there— “if they’re with the same person.”

Obi might not have stuck around under his dome once the dust settled, but he knew all about guys like Lowen. The regulation haircut, the closet full of BDUs, the fondness for field rations and boiled chicken— just a thin veneer of muscle and bravado over a reflex to ‘sir, yes, sir’ his way out of any problem more complex than picking which socks to put on in the morning. He might have stuck his neck out for something that twinged the weather vane that was his moral compass, but now that someone with stars and bars has explained to him that black is white, he’ll—

“That all?” Big Guy’s too nice to spit out the “sir?” but that little hitch before it, that small hesitation— well, sky writing would have been more subtle.

“Yes.” There’s no tone to that one either, no flavor. Just the implacable bite of subzero. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to discuss?”

There shouldn’t be, his tone conveys, clear enough it could be heard in the hangar. Obi could swear he hears Big Guy’s teeth grind from here.

There’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that makes his skin itch.

“Just one thing, actually. Sir.” The bed creaks, and his shadow shifts, pulling straight. “Been noticing there’s a lot of hopefuls hanging around the past few months. Thought they might be clearing out now that all this business with Tyrannis is done.”

The Marshal hums, distant. “There’s hardly any rush, Major. A few sets of extra hands is always welcome.”

“Even when they don’t come with their own ride?”

For once, His Majesty hesitates. “Even then.”

“Even” —Big Guy almost savors his next words— “if they’re Hisame Lugis?”

“Dangerous times makes strange bedfellows.” The Marshal laughs, sour. “Especially ones like Hisame Lugis. Now if you don’t mind” — the curtain pulls aside— “I think our friend might like to use his bed. Isn't that right, Major?”

Ha, a voice tingles in his ear, busted.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #there is something about this arc in this fic where i keep thinking i'll never have enough words #and then I get there and I have to move like at least one or two major scenes to another chapter #and POV!#but this one was less of a surprised because all of the peanut gallery was added in on the second draft #which changed a LOT of Obi's narration #and made him more introspective than I usually keep him #I think next chap is a Shirayuki chap #and is possibly more shippy. BUT WE WILL SEE

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atsadi-shenanigans · 5 months

Text

Feeding Alligators 12 - Hustle

You're getting angry. This does not bode well for the party.

Rated M for language and violence.

On AO3.

You’re picking over bodies, again, when you catch sight of its face. Only for a moment and you’re quick to look away, but enough to catch the mouth full of needle teeth.

Goblins. Actual, living (they were), goblins with big eyes and green skin. You squat down to examine one of the less torn apart bodies. Again, very careful not to look at the face, because avoiding faces means its less likely to stick in your brain later.

The cloth is rough—hide, mostly, but with patches of what looks like crude linen. While you don’t know fashion, exactly, you have a basic knowledge of fabric thanks to that stint in cosplay Sasha (that delightful bitch, good god you miss her) got into a couple years back.

This goblin died clutching a staff with some kind of skull—maybe a goat or a sheep—tied to the end with a bundle of feathers. If they hadn’t been so hopped up on ripping those three guys outside the gate apart, you might have tried to talk to them.

A shadow falls over you. Astarion stands there, not a hair out of place despite the fine spatter of blood across his features that he hasn’t bothered wiping off yet. He’d taken a long-range position when Shadowheart and Lae’zel rushed in. Turns out he’s a good shot with a bow he scavenged off a goblin (after he slit her throat, thus the blood).

“Are you going to take that?” he says.

The dead goblin wears a belt, and on that belt, a pouch. Aside from the dead gnome he’d dropped on you, you haven’t touched a dead thing.

“What?” you say.

He flips his knife, kneels next to you, and slices the pouch free. Metal clinks when he gives it a light toss.

“Into my pocket,” he says cheerfully and does just that.

Leaving you, squatting over the body he robbed. You look up to find every other member of your group doing the same to the other dead.

***

So there’s a whole thing going on inside this Grove place. You keep your distance as a tiefling yells at one of the guys you saved (something about a missing druid) and then punches him out. He says something else about goblin raiders, which you don’t really process, and then something about being forced out, which you do.

The man looks scared shitless, as far as someone with a demon face can. The other tieflings do, too. And the people wearing antlers and feathers and shit look both scared and pissed off. Not at the goblins, though. But at the tieflings. Something about “allowing outsiders brought this on us” and “let them deal with it.”

It’s a very “got mine fuck you” attitude that immediately raises your hackles.

“What an unfortunate situation,” Gale says.

“I don’t think these people will survive such a long trip in their condition,” Shadowheart says.

Astarion says nothing, but you catch him slipping something shiny out of an unsealed crate in a wagon.

“Zevlor did say they had a healer,” Gale says. “I suggest we pay them a visit and see if they have a solution to our infestation problem.”

You tag along. This place feels vaguely Celtic, real nature-y. Apparently the guys with the antler hats are druids? But like, with actual magic who can turn into literal animals.

The group stops to barter with what you think is another gnome, except this one’s ears are round. Then Astarion makes a point to lean over to you and whisper (not quietly), “This one is a halfling.”

So…a hobbit. But they’re not actually called that.

You press your palm over your right eye as the ache spikes. Then you skirt around your group and wander further in. You’re in some sort of cavern with multiple openings. You pass through a ray of golden sunlight pouring in from a hole overhead. There’s a big statue of an animal, the top of the head slightly weathered. Around you, tieflings argue, huddle close and mutter, shovel hay. They’re all holding themselves small and guarded. Gazes darting, like startled birds, never landing on one thing for too long. You can almost feel their misery.

Trapped. Trapped and unable to do a damn thing about it.

Your palms are sweating.

A flash of red. A tiefling child stands in front of a cluster of rocks, swinging his arms. He looks at you for less than a second before shifting away. He’s a scrawny thing, wearing half-ragged tunic with only one shoulder strap. He’s got little ridges laddering down his chest.

They have children, these scared tieflings. Trapped children that know something bad is happening, perhaps without knowing what, exactly, it is.

You wave at the kid. Again, that darting glance. It’s not a suspicious movement. He rocks a little as he stands. He reminds you of one of your paternal cousins (fourth cousin, technically; you have more “kin on our side, don’cha ‘sug?”), who your third cousin (her mother) affectionately calls, “Just a little bit different.”

You crouch down. Look over the kid’s shoulder. He gets hoppy, starts making excited noises. Swings his arm like playing a sword fight.

“You saw us fight off those goblins?” you say. Well, the others did. You clubbed one with your stick which distracted it enough for Astarion to put an arrow through its eye.

The kid nods. Swings his arms again, making those happy sounds.

“Is that something you’d want to learn?” you say.

But this seems to stump him. Or maybe he’s just had enough. He starts to nod but stops, ends up clutching his arm against his chest. You open your mouth to change the subject, but he goes all distant.

Your group has caught up to you. The kid scurries off. The others barely glance your way—Astarion with a sneer—except for Gale. He watches the kid scamper off, and then gives you a smile.

There’s another kid up ahead. Gale seems to take this as an opportunity to talk—the kid offers him a ring, and then makes the biggest mistake of his life when he tells Gale it’s magical.

You’re settling in for some prime time zoning out during the forthcoming lecture, when you register a touch. You look down, follow the wrist to the arm to the second kid with her hand in your pocket, frozen and staring up at you in horror.

Huh. In your periphery, the magic ring kid straightens from his bored slump, and then the pickpocket backs away, crying and blubbering. Which grabs everyone’s attention.

“M’sorry, Mattis, I can’t do this,” the pickpocket wails. She cringes away from you. Like she expects you to hit her.

“Easy there, kiddo,” you say. “It’s okay. No blood, no foul, right? You didn’t hurt nobody; nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

She sniffs a few times. Realizes you aren’t lunging for her and makes a break around you. You let her go. Catch Shadowheart’s unimpressed eyebrow raise and Astarion’s audible scoff.

“In a githyanki creche, thieves are severely punished,” Lae’zel says, making hard eye contact with you like she’s trying to prove some point.

Which she can shove up her ass. It seems the only one not annoyed at you is Gale. These people are a bunch of assholes.

“So where’s this healer?” you say.

As Gale leads the group further into the cavern, the floor sloping down and the glare of sunlight shining through another exit, you pause. Lower your head to murmur to the magic ring kid. “Find a partner who doesn’t get caught.”

The kid, being a shit because everyone in Faerun is, you guess, only rolls his eyes and gives you a, “Yeah, yeah. Outta my way, I’ve got a business to run.”

Part of you want to shove his head. But he lives in a place where stepping over ripped over bodies is normal. Where people loot the dead. Where children are forced to be street thieves while waiting to hear if they’ll be expelled into the waiting arms of sharp-toothed goblins. You don’t need to add to his pile of shit.

Especially when you pass another cluster of tieflings clearly retreating from the cavern exit, throwing nasty looks over their shoulder. Two of them are crying. You catch something about a daughter being taken for “discipline” by some psycho bitch, and your stomach drops out. It’s been a while since you felt that particular wave of dread. Since your lungs clutched up inside your chest and the fear hit so strong it made you dizzy.

A devil child taken for discipline.

Astarion eyeballs you as you sidle up behind them all, talking to two druids and a fucking bear. He must see something in your expression. The little nose wrinkle he sported drops off. “Do you always let yourself be robbed?”

You shrug. Hope the gesture appears loose, like your muscles aren’t wound up to a snapping point. “I’m flat ass broke. Wasn’t nothing for the pipsqueak to take.”

“And if you’d owned anything more than the clothes on your back?”

The druids move aside, all glares and belligerence. The fuck kinda place is this? The fuck kind of shitbag runs a place like this?

You don’t answer. You’re too busy moving up on Gale’s ass and finding out who the fuck this Kahga person is.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #fanfic #astarion #astarion x tav #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #no betas we die like men #feeding alligators

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miniimapp · 1 year

Text

A-Z Fluff (Aaron T Edition)

Gen ;; Fluff - Alphabet Headcanons

Warnings ;; no

Proofread + Edited ;; also no

Auth. Note ;; WELCOME TO DAY 20 OF THE 4*TOWN CHRISTMAS COUNTDOWN !! ONE MORE SLEEP !!

Due to the missed days I will be posting a bunch tomorrow,, consider that my gift to you all lmao

Enjoy !! <3

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A = Activities (What kind of things do you do?)

Your first together can range from T wanting to climb a mountain and settling for a hike to staying in and playing video games. It'll have to be something engaging though or T may just zone out real hard lmao

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

T loves the idea of a big family,, like an impossibly large family and he definitely wants to try adoption or fostering of some kind

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Like a koala to a tree,, somehow all limbs become involved and he will cling to you and not let go until he feels like it

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Most likely chaotic,, you know if its running smoothly there was interference from the boy's or you planned the date lmao

The chaos is charming though..

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world)

You are his soul mate,, you perfectly complement him

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

There isn't a time T can pinpoint where he realised he was in love with you,, he just knew.. T likes to say he didn't fall in love but instead took your hand and you walked into love together

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

Ish.. there's energy in everything T does,, even his calm is like an energetic calm if that makes sense and so is his gentle.. energetically gentle or smthn idk

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

T likes to squeeze you hand and rub his thumb over the back of it. He'll squeeze it every now and then almost as if to reassure himself you didn't disappear

I = Injury (How would they react if you got hurt?)

Massive freak out,, lots of flapping,, tons of frantic, nervous energy.. he will require another member, prolly Jesse, to help him out

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Eh,, not really.. T gets huffy if he feels like you're not giving him enough attention and may start acting p obnoxious in an attempt to get it but he's never really jealous of the people or your relation to them

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

With his whole being :DD

Your first kiss was definitely initiated by you,, like he was trying but accidentally got himself caught up in a ramble so you took the reigns and made your move

L = Love (Who says I love you first?)

You again,, similar situation actually.. he's rambling on, trying his best to just spite out the words but somehow gets himself into a speech about your eyes and you just blurt it for him

M = Memory (What's their favourite memory together?)

His favourite memory is playing uno with you and the boys.. you had no idea what you were getting yourself into and T had so much fun causing chaos

Yall went round the group TWICE with plus 2's before they all ended up on poor Z,, my guy drew 24 fucking cards in one go..

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Tbh T isn't really a material girlie,, his mind is more on spending time than giving gifts gifts he might not really think to get you anything unless you directly ask for it

Exceptions are made for your birthday and Christmas, maybe valentines day and any other gift giving holiday you tell him that you celebrate (again you have to let the guy know lmao) and he will be begging Jesse for help even though he knows you better

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Not really applicable tbh,, no colour really make shim think of you.. at best maybe red but only because of roses and valentines and all that lmao

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

T despises non-ironic pet names they make him feel icky,, catch him calling you the most out of pocket shit for jokes and only jokes

"How are you today, my little napkin corner?"

Q = Questions (What are the questions they’re always asking?)

"How are you?"

"Is ____ technically a sandwich?"

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Play video games or watch a movie with you and maybe the boys if they're around,, he loves big groups

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

For someone,, else he'll crack jokes to try and ease the tensions and take their mind of whatever they're experiencing..

For himself,, T wants to be alone in a quite place to sort out his thoughts and feelings so he doesn't lash out at anyone or anything (he never would but he's scared one day he might)

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Anything and everything,, the sky is literally the limit and he will start a debate about what counts as the sky and where it ends if you ever say that phrase

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Hear me out,, putting popping candy in his mouth, closing his eyes and just experiencing it.. he lives the tingly feeling and it somehow helps him relax

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

For some reason I get the feeling I've done this before.. oh wait..

Find the fully-written T proposal here

X = Xylophone (What's their song?)

Grace Kelly - MIKA,, no explanation necessary

Y = Yearning (How well do they cope when they’re separated from their S/O?)

T does fine,, he saves all his clingy energy for facetime calls with his partner.. man he loves those lmao

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

A reptile of some sort,, maybe a gecko or a lizard

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Hope you enjoyed !! <3

#4town christmas countdown #4town #4town headcanons #4town aaron t x reader #4town aaron t

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sgtjamesrogers · 2 years

Text

taps mic. please enjoy the sequel to the wip Wednesday that was actually many more moons ago than i realized. aka, 'hughie forces butcher to do an incredibly experimental treatment for his temp v brain holes, it's on maeve's farm in the kansas flint hills, abba is involved, there's pre-fic polyam negotiations, it's already named after a billy joel song.' i hate me.

He’s prepared to make some kind of smart remark, but any words on his tongue instantly evaporate as he watches Butcher slide slowly into an armchair facing the bank of windows. He’s limp like he’s shrugged out of the shell marked ‘stubborn bastard’ that kept him standing, and something about his beaten-down posture makes Hughie uncomfortably aware of how ill Butcher is.

“Jesus, you should have said something,” Hughie says as he rounds the chair, bending to look Butcher in the face as he clumsily seeks out the pulse in his wrist. “Maybe we should get started right now. Frenchie did say the sooner the better–”

Butcher gives him a worthless shove with a grunt. His pulse is fluttery and light, a wounded bird under his fingertips.

“If you try to get all McDreamy on me right now, I’ll take a shit in your suitcase when you fall asleep,” he says, though the heat in his words is like a fire flickering and dying rapidly under a harsh gust of wind. “I’ll make sure to get all of your pants, you’ll have to borrow some from Maeve’s lady, they’ll look like… those short pants that were big, back in the early aughts.”

Hughie lets go of his wrist with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the sturdy wood coffee table opposite the chair.

“You’d have to squat long enough to pinch one off without passing out, which is not a thing you can do right now,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Plus you’ve been loaded up on painkillers for the last two weeks, you’re too constipated to even think about the phrase ‘bowel movement’. Also, for the record. They’re called capris.” He lets his head fall forward and tries not to yawn. Fuck, but he’s tired.

By the time he drags his chin up from his chest, he finds Butcher’s eyes on him, expression utterly unreadable.

He could ask ‘what is it?’, or even ‘is there something on my face?’ but instead he just looks back at him. Meeting Butcher’s gaze feels uncanny, like unbuttoning his shirt and offering a place between his ribs to stick a knife. He holds it anyway; gently, like something that might break rather than as a challenge. He’s pretty sure it’s only partially because Butcher couldn’t get out of the chair on his own, even if he tried.

Finally, Hughie asks, “You wanna go lay down?”

Butcher shakes his head, expression stymied.

“Just leave me here a while, I’ll get up in a minute.”

Hughie privately doubts that but he leaves Butcher to it, standing up from the coffee table and making his way to the french doors that lead out onto a small deck overlooking the pond. He can hear some sort of bird (or maybe several birds) cheep-cheeping back and forth from the loose ring of trees, and as a dry breeze tugs at the collar of his shirt and plays with his hair, Hughie feels his shoulders start to relax.

He throws himself into a tatty rattan deck chair, legs splayed as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Oscar has landed in Grouchland! :)

He sends that sentence along with a picture of the pond as the sun slinks away from its high noon position to the group chat MM has set up in a secure messaging app. A handful of seconds later, Annie’s contact picture is lighting up his screen.

“Hey!” He exhales with something like relief, an uncontrollable smile stretching his face. “I wasn’t sure if you’d see that until later, I know you guys are in—“

“Dubai was a bust, actually,” Annie says before he can finish, but she doesn’t sound too upset about it. “Our transport chickened out on us, which I think Frenchie was fine with. He wasn’t too excited about the whole ‘parachuting in’ segment of the plan. So instead–” He hears a paper bag rustling from somewhere in the background, followed by the ambient noise of television at low volume. “- it’s butter chicken, garlic naan, and the last season of Fargo.”

Hughie can almost imagine it, as he sits back in the deck chair with the sun starting to bake him. The exact aroma of the butter chicken, the apple tv remote in his hand, curling on his side after dinner with his head in Annie’s lap while she plays with his hair. It’s not sadness he feels, exactly. He’s somehow a little shocked by it, that the wistful ache kneading his sternum like a friendly cat can coexist with his sharp desire to be here, twisting Butcher’s arm into recovery. Hughie supposes that two things can be true at once.

“Party foul, watching Fargo without me,” he teases, and warms again at the sound of her soft laughter.

“Make Butcher watch it with you,” she says, mouth half full. Hughie can picture the precise scrunch on her nose while she chews, like somewhere in her subconscious she can’t believe she’s talking with food in her mouth. He loves her so much it hurts. “How is mister grimy asshole doing?”

“Not great…” he mutters, twisting to look over the back of the chair into the bunkhouse. The reflection from the sun on the windows keeps him from seeing much beyond Butcher’s slumped form still in the chair, but it’s telling that he hasn’t moved. “He slept the whole flight, and then most of the drive. I barely got him to eat.”

Annie makes a hum that Hughie knows translates to, ‘I’m nervous, but trying to be optimistic.’

“Yeah, I know,” he says, voice still quiet like he’s in the room with Butcher. “I’m hoping once we get started…” “You haven’t done the first dose yet?” Her voice sounds clearer, a rustling of a paper bag as she sits upright. Hughie winces.

“He’s…” Hughie looks over his shoulder again; a reflex. Butcher bit his head off when he suggested it. Butcher will probably just throw it up with no food in his stomach. Butcher’s going to strangle him as soon as he has enough strength for it. “...really exhausted. I’m going to get him started first thing in the morning. It feels neater that way.”

“True,” she gives him, and she sounds about as put out as he feels. Or at least that’s what he thinks until she hums again. “So, are you going to tell him before or after he starts healing up?”

Hughie almost drops his phone.

“I’m, I don’t,” he splutters, fighting the urge to audibly gulp like he’s in a Looney Tunes cartoon, his palms suddenly beading sweat. “I don’t know that I really ever need to say anything.” He looks over his shoulder again, like Butcher will suddenly be looming over him and listening to their conversation.

“...uh huh,” is all Annie says, and there’s something sly in her tone that makes his ears burn. “If you say so. It’s no skin off my back to keep you to myself.” It’s the sort of casual approach she’s had since they talked all of this out; though he feels like he can trace it back farther, to waking up with a mile of stitches and both of them standing over him in the hospital.

When Hughie doesn’t respond, she softens her voice. “No matter what happens, he cares about you. In an ass-backward sort of way, but.”

Instead of responding, Hughie laughs softly instead and says, “You are so from Des Moines sometimes, oh my god.”

Because she’s an angel, Annie lets him do it and retorts with, “Ass-backwards is a very normal phrase! People say ass-backward all over the place, city boy.”

“Say ass-backward again,” he whispers, unable to keep a childish grin from spreading across his face. “Ass-backwards,” she says as seriously as possible, smothering a laugh. His heart thuds at the sound; a dog’s hindleg thumping uncontrollably as it’s scratched just right.

Annie stays on the phone with him for a little bit longer, chewing as she clicks through Netflix and tries to explain the plot of Dead to Me. Hughie swears he’s following along but realizes he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open when she repeats his name a few times. “...Hughie? Am I lulling you to sleep?” She teases. “Maybe I just like the sweet sound of your voice,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself up and out of the chair. Without checking the time, it feels like four in the afternoon, which probably means it’s around three.

“Go take a nap, you sound like you need it,” Annie tells him, and when he promises that he will, they hang up.

Wandering back inside on stiff legs, Hughie finds Butcher still in that chair, and soundly asleep. Head craned back and to the side, his chest rises and falls slowly; a modicum of peace on his face. Hughie thinks that somehow he looks younger like this, the developing frown lines between his brows and at his eyes somewhat smoothed out, the tension in his mouth disappearing. And without anger in his expression, his dark dramatic brows give him a quizzical, almost sardonic look.

Not for the first time, Hughie wonders what Butcher was like, before. If he still had these jagged edges, or if some piece of him was irreparably broken away when he lost Becca. But, perhaps he’s always been this rough monument to brutalism and the ends justifying the means. After all, Becca isn’t exactly around to ask, and Hughie’s not even sure what he’d say. If she would have even liked him, seeing as they didn’t get much of a chance to interact in those bare days of her being alive.

Hughie hopes that she would have liked him.

Carefully finger combing dark hair away from his forehead, Hughie tries to gently cram a throw pillow from the couch between Butcher’s head and the back of the chair. It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to take the strain off of his neck. He yanks the plaid flannel from the back of the couch and settles it across Butcher’s lap.

“There you go, asshole,” he whispers, almost fond as he steps back to admire the effect.

Hughie knows he could poke around and find one of the bedrooms, but being too far away makes him feel uneasy. He pictures Butcher waking up and trying to go to the bathroom, only to crumple to the floor facedown, unable to call out loud enough to rouse Hughie. So instead, he kicks off his shoes and folds up on the couch after he sets a timer for six pm, letting sleep yank him away from consciousness for as long as he can afford.

#okay..... last wip update before i buckle in #the boys #butchie #is.... is that the name #also there is hughie x annie because hughie has two hands #hughie campbell #billy butcher #jesse writes fic

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casspurrjoybell-22 · 13 days

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Dream Eater - Chapter 1 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

The lobby is huge and shiny... lots of glass and metal and filled with enough potted plants to deserve its own gardener.

A fountain occupies the center, spouting water in cascades of diamond drops.

I stare at it as we cross to the elevators.

I make for the big double doors but the guy tugs my arm and leads me a few steps farther.

He uses a key card to open a smaller, private lift. Inside, there are only two buttons... L for 'lobby' and P for 'penthouse.'

He presses the P and the doors slide shut.

We ride up in silence and I study our dual reflections in the mirrored wall. We're a mismatched pair.

He looks mature and well-groomed.

I look young and like I could use a good meal.

Only one of those things is true.

My body's actually over a hundred years old, though it still looks about twenty, which makes sense because that was my age when I died.

It was tuberculosis and I was in a makeshift hospital filled with the dead and dying.

Those still alive were lost in fever dreams, making it an ideal feeding ground for dream-eaters.

I don't know if he felt sorry for me or just wanted to make a new demon but this one old guy did something to my soul.

When I died... I didn't go anywhere.

I just stood there staring down at my dead self and he looked at me like he could see me and told me to follow him.

He stole my body from the hospital and took it home with him and I followed, all lost and incorporeal.

Then he showed me how to re-possess my body and told me I was a dream-eater now.

'Congratulations kid, you're now a demon.'

He disappeared after that and I never saw him again.

The elevator doors open and we step out into a massive penthouse with an open floor-plan.

Everything looks too expensive to touch.

Damien leads the way and I follow, not quite sure what to do with my hands.

He walks over to a long bar and pours himself a glass of something brown.

"You want one?" he asks, indicating the bar.

"A glass of water, please."

He brings me a glass of water with ice.

"So, Alex," he says. "How does this work?"

I shrug.

"Simple. We sleep together."

He looks at me sharply.

"No offense but you're not my type."

I smirk.

"Oh yeah? Why's that? Too much man for you?"

He raises a brow.

"More like not enough."

Ouch.

I run my hand through my messy brown curls.

"That's not what I mean anyway. I mean you go to sleep. I go to sleep. We go to sleep together and then I fix your dreams."

Moving to sit on the sofa, he crosses his ankle over one knee.

Even his socks look expensive.

"I'm sort of a night owl," he says. "I don't know if I'll be able to fall asleep this early."

And I'm not hanging out in Awkwardsville until bedtime, no matter how uptown it might be.

"No problem," I say. "Take one of these."

I pull the little box of pills from my pocket and hand it to him.

He doesn't take it.

"I don't do drugs."

"Good. Neither do I. These are herbs. Valerian root. It'll relax your muscles and make it easier to fall asleep."

He looks at me skeptically but takes the box.

Picking up one of the small brown pills, he sniffs at it and grimaces.

"It smells like shit."

"That's how you know it's the good stuff," I say.

He sets the pill on the coffee table next to his whiskey glass.

"Look," he says, locking his dark eyes on mine. "I don't believe in this hocus-pocus nonsense. But I'm desperate and the reviews on your profile are all positive. So I'm willing to give it a try. But if you turn out to be a fraud, I will destroy you. Are we clear?"

Dinner and a threat.

Lovely.

"Sure. We're clear, crystal clear, Mr Knight."

He holds my gaze a moment longer, then picks up the pill and swallows it.

I take one too, partly to reassure him and partly because I'm too on edge to sleep otherwise.

He nods and stands.

"In here," he says, and I follow him across the apartment to a set of dark wood doors.

They open on a bedroom the size of a small house.

The color scheme is a masculine monochrome, with natural accents hinting at a winter landscape.

It's sterile, severe and serene.

Not my style but I appreciate the taste nonetheless.

"Goddess sake. What do you do for a living?" I ask, examining an abstract oil painting that looks like it cost a small fortune.

"I'm an architect. I designed this building."

"Oh. Okay."

That makes sense that he has the penthouse, then.

He crosses to the bed and starts to undress.

"Er. You don't have to take your clothes off," I say. I certainly didn't plan to.

"I'm not sleeping in an Armani suit."

He strips down to an undershirt and a pair of boxer briefs and I try not to stare.

He has a swimmer's body, strong shoulders and narrow hips and long, well-toned legs.

Not my type, I remind myself.

Also kind of an asshole, which is not a trait I find attractive.

He moves to the bed, pulls back the covers and slides in.

I walk over and sit gingerly on the edge, removing my canvas high tops and belt.

I set them on the floor and lie back on top of the covers, keeping several feet between us.

He looks over and quirks a brow.

"You have done this before, right?"

"Yes."

I roll my eyes.

"That's why I'm nervous. I've had too many bad experiences after falling asleep next to strangers, not to be nervous."

"And yet you make a business of it?"

I close my eyes.

"It's more of a necessity. Can we hold hands? The contact helps."

"I'm sure it does," I can hear the unkind smile in his voice but he humors me.

His hand is bigger than mine and surprisingly calloused.

"You have artist's hands," he says, lacing his fingers through mine. "Do you paint or draw?"

"No. Shut up and go to sleep."

He says nothing more and a few minutes later his breathing grows deep and even.

It takes me a little longer but eventually, the Valerian kicks in and I drift off.

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faint-kitten · 2 months

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So about Fortnite taking over everything...

by: Faint_Kitten.

I play fortnite. I like doing the challenges, I don't see myself stopping anytime soon.

But I have messy feelings about fortnite having only gotten into it last month. Like…I could do a 2 hour video essay just talking about my feelings.

It's a polished fun game, like there's a reason I enjoy playing it. There's a reason it got popular and there is a definite charm to it's core battle royale, and playing as your favorite characters.

But also like…why did they add Festival mode? To sell music, but the record industry and artists want their cut…so they sell tracks for 5 bucks a pop and the battle pass is seperate from the festival pass and it's twice as much with half the rewards. So to get all the battle pass content you're spending like 30 bucks.

Why did they add rocket racing? To sell car shit.

Why did they add lego? To sell lego kits.

Why did they do all of this? Because they have the fucking money to, they (like amazon) conquered their market and they're trying to move into every other place because when you get that big, there is no other way to make MORE money and achieve that infinite growth without finding other markets. Its like "Oh we cornered this market, we can probably take that one too."

Fortnite is a game I have a lot of fun spending time in, and I'll be honest: Someone there cares about art and talent they're making crazy cool shit. The Solid snake event was made by someone who loves Metal Gear.

Fortnite is a really fun game I like spending a few hours in and getting new skins but it's run by a company that talks to other companies and goes: Yo you got a thing laying around people like to buy merch of? Sell it here.

Companies have things they hold the rights to, and their entire shebang is to try to make money off of something they already own. Companies look at influencers and go "how much reach does this have."

Fortnite is the gross fuck bang of these two ideas. It's the biggest widest influencer on the planet and it promises to sell whatever the fuck you have or are advertising on it's platform.

And somewhere in all of that, are teams of artists who come up with lore for the island, and skins based on new characters and they have enough money to make polished versions of their ideas, like the fact the pick is a mechanic, but they also have several different picks, and different animations for each one.

They have a fencing foil that has it's own animation and draws from the scabbard on the character's hip. They have a sword this season, and when you swing it there's a brief pause between each swing, like your character is holding form, that gives it this weird majesty.

Fortnite doesn't need to GIVE that much of a shit about animations like this, but it has the money to and SOMEONE in that company makes cool shit like that and gives it away for free.

It's a fucking weird enviornment. But we're seeing Epic games do what a lot of massively successful companies do: they reached a limit to the "infinite growth" they could get in their market and are trying to move into other games and other mediums. The same way google and amazon tried to get into gaming, or a fast food chain will decide: we sell chicken…what if we start selling pancakes for breakfast?

It is a core game and experience I enjoy, but everything around it is PURE evil. It feels like you're at the worlds best chuck e cheese having fun, but the windows are 2 way mirrors and executives are outside with their hands suspiciously in their pockets drooling waiting for you to crack and waiting to see which of their shitty little arcade games you start spending the most money on.

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 3 years

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So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

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bnha-dumpster · 3 years

Note

Hear me out

Step-brother Shigaraki shoving a vibe in (male) reader during a dinner and Shigaraki is controlling the vibrator and then after dinner Shigaraki fucks the life out of Reader

i was gonna work on monster stuff but this is just *chef's kiss* i think i'm going down the road of a pseudo-incest kink whoops and laughs at myself as i add plot for no reason (also gives you guys a visual reference of the toy in the fic)

pairing: step-brother shigaraki x male reader content tags/warnings: dub-con, pseudo-incest, mild exhibitionism, choking, sex toys, degradation, mind break word count: 2.1k

Things around the household have changed drastically since your mother remarried. You love your mother and want her to be happy, but you feel that things have changed far too fast and far too much.

You had been told that your step-father wanted you to move in with him for two reasons. One; you don't have a job since you're attending university full-time and two; his house is pretty close to your university. You've seen his house from the outside and you can't deny the thought of living in such a large house is pleasant. It's a good deal. But if you had been told that your step-father has a shut-in son that lives with him before moving in, you might've reconsidered it.

Shigaraki is rude and has zero social skills. While you don't actually mind people that don't have social skills- it's often times not their fault- there's something about your step-brother that just unnerves you. You see him and alarm bells go off in your mind.

He likes to catch you off guard. Coming into your room to watch you, pinning you to surfaces, groping you, watching you shower- there's something really wrong with him.

"Tomu-"

You're trying to walk downstairs to go eat dinner with your mother and step-father. Trying, being the keyword. Shigaraki has you pinned to the wall once again. One of his hands is able to completely hold both your wrists- he's not even that much bigger than you! He's using his free hand to tug your sweatpants down to your knees. The pinning isn't exactly new, but he's never actually pulled your clothes off.

"I bought something for you. It's a little present for having such a cute brother." His voice makes you shudder, but the item he holds up next to your face makes you tense up. It's a brand new, probably expensive, sex toy.

"Tomura- hey- let's not-" You squirm and shake your head.

"Don't cause a fuss. Just let me do this, 'kay?"

The lube on the toy is your only saving grace as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and tries to put it on you. It doesn't work very well, the lubed up toy sliding against your limp cock a few times before Shigaraki growls lowly.

"I'm taking my hand off and I expect you to stay still." True to his word, the hand on your wrists disappears. If this were the first time he tried to do something like this, then you might've run away. But you've unfortunately learned through experience that your step-brother is far stronger than he seems. It's only because of your knowledge do you stay.

His hand is cold and calloused, an uncomfortable feeling against your skin. You grimace as he grabs your cock to slip the ring over it, making sure it’s snug against the base before he pushes the vibrating part of the toy into you. It doesn’t actually seem that bad until he turns the toy on.

“Shit-” You’re not oblivious to the toy’s function but you didn’t expect it to be so snug against that spot inside you. Shigaraki grabs you before your legs buckle, laughing at your state.

“Wow, you’re that sensitive?” He’s taunting you, making fun of you. “Is my little brother just a slut in disguise?”

Your pants are pulled up and a small slap is given to your ass. It brings a small yelp out of you, making you turn around to glare at him. He doesn’t seemed fazed by it. Instead, it spurs him on and you can feel him grind against your ass. Even through the fabric of both of your sweatpants, you can feel how hot and heavy his cock is. You can tell it’s thick and that’s barely hard.

A sliver of arousal makes itself known with a twitch of your cock. The realization makes you stand up straight and shove your step-brother away, adjusting your clothes to hide the erection beginning to strain underneath your pants.

It’s difficult to sit down at the dinner table and act normal. You give your mother a small smile as you squirm in your seat for a moment. The toy’s low vibration stimulating every part of you- the base of your cock being teased, vibrations going through your balls and taint, the dildo pressing snugly against your prostate- and it’s difficult to hold your composure.

“Are you okay, dear?” Your mother is looking at you with concern.

“O-oh, I’m alright, mom.” You force another smile.

“Go lay down after dinner, okay?”

You give a small nod before you start eating, not waiting for your step-brother to sit down. He’s probably snickering to himself and thinking of what he should do. The sudden increase of vibrations of the toy surprises you and you choke on a piece of food.

“Honey?”

“Don’t worry, he’s just a little out of it, right lil bro?” A large hand comes to rest on your shoulder. As you turn to look over your shoulder, Shigaraki stares down at you with a small smirk. You can see the small remote in his hand and you almost want to reach out and grab it. But that’d cause a scene- the last thing you want at the dinner table.

He slides into his seat, not bothering to eat. All he’s doing is staring at you and analyzing your reactions as he plays with the remote in his pocket.

“Yeah, j-just a little bit out of it.” You try your best to keep yourself together. Eating your dinner as fast as possible is your goal, hoping that this torture is only for the sake of humiliating you in front of your mother.

The vibrations of the toy change rapidly. It seems like Shigaraki’s just cycling through them for the first time, gauging your reactions as he does so. He’s trying to find the best setting for you right now, surely. The one that does you in is the low and slow pulsing of the toy.

He’s learning so much about you. You’re smart enough not to fight him physically but still have the guts to snap at him with your words. You prefer to be teased with a lack of stimulation rather than overstimulation. You won’t tell your mother about anything he does so she’ll stay happy. The best part... You’re easy to read.

Now that it’s been a few minutes of dealing with the toy, you’re settling down. It’s still uncomfortable, the low stimulation keeping your cock hard, but you’re able to eat your dinner for the most part. You’re eating quicker than normal just so this can end.

“Thanks for dinner, mom.” As you stand from the table, Shigaraki cycles through the toy quickly to put the vibrations at its most intense setting. You curl in on yourself and groan, facing contorting.

“Dear?”

You give her a reassuring smile despite the heat pooling in your stomach. As much as you want to leave the table, you’re not sure you can do it yourself. It seems to be part of your step-brother’s plan. He puts his arm under yours, holding you up to help you shuffle back upstairs.

“I’ll make sure he’s alright, don’t worry.”

They can’t see it, but you’re glaring at him as he helps you up. With him being the only reason you’re still standing however, that’s all you can manage to do. You hold onto his torso as he takes you up the stairs and opens the door of your room.

“You’re close, huh? You were about to cum in front of our parents, weren’t you?” Shigaraki throws you onto the floor of your room with a thud, using his foot to turn you onto your back. He stares down at you and steps on your cock, moving it back and forth.

“Alright little bro, cum for me.”

With a particularly large amount of pressure, almost painful, you tense and spurt ropes of cum inside your pants. A stain begins to seep into the fabric and Shigaraki looks down at you with a sneer. You’re squirming under his foot, the toy still vibrating aggressively inside you and around the base of your cock.

He picks you up by the hair and drags you to your bed, manhandling you so your face is against the comforter and your ass is in the air. He doesn’t even bother turning the toy off as he takes it out of you and slides your cock out of the ring. Your ass clenches around the air pathetically, teasing Shigaraki. Even with something inside you, stretching you out, your ass still looks tight and almost untouched. The only thing eluding to its use is the lube smeared around it.

You’re given no warning when your step-brother grabs your hips and slams his cock inside you. When did he take it out? You don’t know.

“Shiiiiiit- Do you know how tight you are?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Shigaraki begins to fuck you with abandon, thrusting into you with no care for your comfort. The stretch of his cock, how it reaches almost too deep inside you- it’s horribly uncomfortable. There’s a tinge of pleasure from the stretch of his cock pressing against your prostate almost constantly, but not much else.

His balls slap against your ass with every heavy thrust and the grip on your hips is bruising. You can feel his nails digging into the skin and you’re sure they’ll leave marks. He’s leaving reminders of this.

A hand leaves your hip to hold your limp cock, pumping it aggressively. The sudden stimulation is painful and you squirm.

“Now, now, little bro. Be a good slut for me and let me play with you.” Shigaraki sneers at the way you stop squirming at his words. “There... See, you’re a pathetic little slut for your big bro, aren’t you?”

You refuse to answer, only burying your face into the sheets to hide your humiliated tears. It’s not like it matters. He continues to pump your cock at a fast pace, enjoying the way your walls twitch and tighten because of it. Even if you’re not feeling anything, he is. Your pleasure is more of an afterthought, a bonus. Then your cock begins to twitch back to life.

“Seriously? You’re feeling good?” Shigaraki leans against you, biting your ear. “Getting off from your step bro treating you like a whore and fucking you? You really must be one if you like this.”

“I’m not!” You protest, turning to look at him. Tears are falling down your face, cheeks red from the embarrassment. “It’s your fault! You’re forcing my body to feel like this!”

Both of you know it’s a lie. You’re definitely enjoying it. As cute as your denial is to your step-brother, he isn’t in the mood for you being like this the whole time. He wants to have to shut you up so your parents won’t hear you begging for his cock.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulls out of you. You’re allowed a brief moment of confusion as he decides how he wants to position you. Once he decides, he flips you onto your back and hikes your legs over his shoulders. In this position, he rubs your cocks together. His is undeniably thicker than yours, but your length isn’t too drastically different. There’s only a few seconds of rutting them together before he lines his cock up with your ass and slams back in.

Much to his surprise and amusement, you let out a confused moan. The new position must feel good. Your face contorting into pleasure with a mix of self-disgust is beautiful to him.

“Little bro, come on. Just let yourself feel good.” His thrusts slow and he reaches for your neck. The grip on your throat is intense and you can feel yourself becoming lightheaded almost instantly. It’s an intense feeling that mixes with pleasure, clouding your senses.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen or just you giving up, but you begin to buck your hips against Shigaraki’s. Your jaw goes slack and your mouth is open, eyes rolling back into your head. The choking keeps you from making much noise so all you can let out are strangled groans.

“Finally. Let yourself go. Become my whore, my pathetic cumdump of a little brother. Just be my personal cock sleeve, yeah?”

The words go in one ear and out the other and you let out a string of agreements. Your back arches, cock twitching and covering your stomach in your own cum. It’s the sudden tightness around him that pushes Shigaraki over the edge. He stills inside you as deep as he can and cums, filling your ass. As he comes down from his high, he lets go of your throat.

“Good boy.” He smacks your face gently and chuckles at your lack of response. “Gone already? Come on, we’ve barely started.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x male reader #shigaraki x male reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut

2K notes · View notes

subbykboys · 3 years

Text

new to this | taeyong

↳ pairing : virgin!taeyong x reader

Genre ➞ pure smut oof

Warnings ➞ sub!taeyong, corruption kink, begging, mild degrading, handjob, fingering (m. receiving), public-ish(?), mild choking, running into walls

Word Count ➞ 8.3k

requested by @ninachocoo

posted ; 3.08.21

Hot. God, it was so hot.

Then again, summer in your part of town always was. But this heat— this heat was different. It surrounded you, pulling perspiration from your pores and clinging to you persistently. It spilled down your throat, filling your lungs with every deep inhale. It robbed you of any and all of your energy, leaving you too tired to rouse yourself from where you lay on the cool tile floor of your kitchen in front of the open fridge (the absolute coldest spot you could find in your entire house).

You didn’t cope very well in warm weather, if that wasn’t obvious.

And, at the cost of your poor housemate’s sanity, you always found new and creative ways to cope with the excruciating rise in temperature,

“Y/n a few of my— how many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?!” You couldn’t bring yourself to so much as flinch as the fridge door was abruptly slammed shut, only managing to pull a whining complaint from the back of your throat as your only source of cool air was ever so rudely ripped away.

“Fuck you, Mark. It’s too fucking hot to worry about the stupid electricity bill.” You huffed, peeling your eyes open just long enough to shoot an icy glare in the direction of the scowling brunette.

He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, lower lip jutting out. “I think you forget that it’s a combination of both of our money going into paying them, so I think that I have a right to worry about how much is coming out of my pocket because you think that laying in front of an open fridge is a good way to ‘beat the heat’.”

“Offer me a better solution, I’m open to suggestions.” You sighed tiredly.

He only rolled his eyes.

“Oh! I’ve got one,” you exclaimed suddenly, clapping your hands together as a gasp of excitement flew from your lips, “How about I just strip down and walk around butt ass naked? That should do the trick! Oh… but little Mark would like that a little too much, wouldn’t he?” You offered him a taunting pout, feigning sympathy as you glanced down unabashedly towards his crotch.

Instinctively, his hands flew to cover himself as his cheeks throbbed a devastatingly obvious shade of red, bright enough to rival even the ripest of tomatoes. “Y–you—”

Your lips curled with an amused smirk, but it faltered at the sound of thundering laughter coming from behind your flustered housemate. Your eyes followed the sound, finding its source in a group of about five or so men crowding up the foyer. Brows lifting in mild surprise, you shifted your attention back to an even more humiliated looking Mark.

“You brought company.” An apology hung at the tip of your tongue. You really tried to keep your pg-13 teasing to a minimum around other people, especially knowing how susceptible Mark could be to his own embarrassment.

“Hey Mark, I thought you said your roommate was a raging asshole with the sex drive of a teenaged boy on viagra? She seems pretty cool to me! And hot.” One of the taller boys chimed, a massive dopey grin plastered across his face.

You turned to Mark slowly, brows raised. But he wouldn’t meet your eyes, head lowered. He wasn’t good at hiding his guilt.

Welp. No apology for ole Marky boy today.

“Please, allow me to properly introduce myself to our company.” Mark's eyebrows jumped all the way to his hairline as you pushed yourself off the floor and tossed an arm around his shoulder. “My name is (y/n), but I suppose Mark's asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra could work, too.”

The look you shot him out of the corner of your eye had him shrinking in on himself, regret shining in his big brown eyes. But, you ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that you weren’t all that torn up about the comment, especially considering it was hard to deny the layer of truth that lingered within it.

You’d probably subjected Mark to more than his fair share of sleepless nights while you were up into the early morning giving the man (or woman) of the night the experience of a lifetime. A few scathing comments to close friends was more than understandable when looked upon in that light. Besides, you were never good at holding a grudge against your sweet, awkward, puppy-eyed housemate.

The tall one that had spoken before chimed in eagerly, “I’m Yukhei, but my friends call me Lucas. Xuxi works, too. Or papi if you're feeling especially— ow!” Lucas yelped loudly as a hand connected to the back of a head with a sharp smack. You watched in amusement as another tall, charming looking man tugged him back, shooting him a warning glare before turning his attention to you.

“Ignore him. He has a bad habit of forgetting his manners around attractive women. My name's Johnny, it’s great to finally meet you.” The sweet, disarming smile he offered you had any reservations melting away, and you easily returned the gesture before he proceeded with introductions. “This Haechan, Jaehyun, Doyoung, and— Taeyong?”

Johnny pivoted around, brief confusion settling across his face before he spotted whoever he’d been looking for. Reaching behind Lucas, he grabbed someone's arm, tugging them into your line of sight.

“And this is Taeyong!” He concluded with a grin, slapping a large hand down on the shorter boy’s shoulder. Taeyong dipped his head shyly, not meeting your eyes as he murmured a soft greeting that you were just barely able to catch. Soft tufts of dirty blonde hair fell over large brown eyes as he bowed politely, the air of meekness unmistakable.

Oh, he’s cute.

Your lips curled into an impish smirk. “Hi, Taeyong.”

A faint blush darkened his cheeks and you caught a hint of a smile upturning the corners of his mouth.

Really cute.

Mark knew you well enough to see the gears beginning to turn in your head and coughed loudly when your stare lingered longer than necessary.

“O-kay, now that you’re all acquainted…” he stepped in swiftly, opting to intervene before you could get any wise ideas about his friend. “We have got a group project to work on and it would be extremely helpful if you’d refrain from providing any distractions. I already have a hard enough time trying to get them to focus for longer than five minutes as is.”

“Aww but I wanna hang out with your hot roommate, Mark.” Lucas whined loudly, practically throwing himself across Mark’s shoulders as the cutest pout you’ve probably ever seen fell across his lips. “She’s got a way nicer ass than any of you guys.”

Doyoung sighed, his face screwing in second hand embarrassment for his friend’s shameless behavior. “Lucas, please.”

“Have some dignity, man.” Haechan huffed additionally and you grinned in amusement as he grabbed the collar of Lucas’s shirt and began tugging him towards the living room.

“Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll stay out of the way. I would hate to hinder your geek fest.” You teased, wrinkling your nose as you stepped past him.

“Thank you, (y/n). I really— wait, Geek f– it’s a project worth thirty percent of our final grade!”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” You waved a dismissive hand over your shoulder, before pausing briefly. Spinning on your heels, you turned back to face

the cute boy, who visibly jolted the moment your attention landed on him. “It was very nice meeting you, Taeyong.”

“Y- you, too.” He stuttered sweetly and you had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach over and pinch those adorable pink cheeks. Either pair.

With one last sultry smile, and a wink just to fuck with Mark a little, you sauntered back into your bedroom. Miraculously, you were no longer concerned with the previously unbearable heat plaguing your apartment. Now, you had something —or rather, someone— far more interesting to occupy your mind.

Taeyong was having a difficult time focusing, which was pretty out of ordinary. He had barely gotten anything done with his assigned part of the project, less than half a page filled out with what little information he managed to collect. Luckily, none of the other guys seemed to notice, too distracted by their own inabilities to focus to take notice of his. Otherwise he would have to concoct some lie. But he wasn’t good at lying. He was a terrible liar, in fact. So he would probably just end up blurting out the truth which was you. You were the reason he couldn’t focus. You with your mischievous eyes and your pretty smile and intoxicating laugh. Mark’s asshole roommate with the sex drive of a teenage boy on viagra.

He’d seen pictures of you before. But they didn’t do you any justice. In pictures, you were pretty. In real life, you were beautiful, charming, witty, sexy, and you winked at him. Girls don’t wink at him. Not ever. But you had. You’d winked and smiled at him and he wasn’t sure if you were just teasing him because he flustered easily or if there was a chance it meant something a little more than that.

… he secretly hoped it meant something a little more than that.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about you right now. He should be thinking about finishing his research. Not your eyes. Not your smile. Not your voice of the way you purred his name and those shivers rushed down his spine and he could have sworn something twitched— okay. That’s enough. He really needed to splash some water in his face, cool down a little before his mind wandered to places it definitely should not.

“Ah— Mark?”

The younger boy lifted his head, brows raising. “’Sup?”

“Where’s the bathroom?”

He perked, tipping his chin forward. “Oh, it’s to the right of the k— shit, wait. That toilet’s busted. Um, just use the one in my room. It’s at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks,” Taeyong pushed himself up with a soft grunt, nearly tripping over Yukhei’s long legs as he maneuvered himself around the cluttered coffee table, “I’ll be right back.”

None of the other guys took much notice of how quickly he rushed out of the room, much to Taeyong’s relief. He let out a low breath the moment he turned the corner and found himself in a vacant hallway, but that relief was short lived.

Mark had only said that his room was at the end of the hall. But, there were two doors at the end of the hall. Meaning one of them could possibly lead to your room. And you were in your room. Which meant if he walked through the wrong door on accident… he could walk in on you. Oh god. Heat rushed into his cheeks at the mere thought of such a humiliating occurrence. For a moment, he debated turning on his heels and returning to the living room.

But, he wasn’t ready to go back to studying just yet. He was still feeling flushed and antsy and needed another moment or two to himself. Plus… he was actually starting to need to pee a little. Damn him and his tiny bladder.

Hesitating, he gently knocked on the door on the right side of the hall then waited ten seconds. No response. Just to be extra certain, he knocked twice more before finally turning the knob. Cautiously, he peeked his head inside. The black out curtains were drawn tight so the room was dark, too dark to make out anything defining outside of the vague shape of a bed and dresser tucked into the far corner. It took a few minutes of stumbling blindly through the inky blackness, tripping over clothes and extension wires until he found what he hoped to be the bathroom door.

Without too much of a second thought, he opened the door.

Then he froze.

He thought it was Mark’s room. He really did. He thought he was tripping over Mark’s clothes and Mark’s wires. Though, he probably should have noticed the light coming out from beneath the bathroom door, indicating that someone might be inside. Or maybe he did but ignored it because– because maybe Mark just left the light on. That could have happened. That totally could have happened.

But it didn’t.

Because it wasn’t Mark’s room. Those weren’t his clothes or his wires and he didn’t leave the light on.

He realized this all too late of course. Because now he was staring at you. You who was wet and naked and… wet and naked. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He could only stare, dumbstruck, mind short circuiting as billowing steam curled around the shape of your body like an iridescent veil, beautiful skin glistening under the soft golden light. Your head was tipped back, lips slightly parted, hands soothing your slick hair out of your face as the hot water cascading down the swells of your

breasts and over the curves of your shoulders.

It was like watching something out of a pornographic shampoo commercial.

“Oh—” it was somewhere between a whine and gasp, strangled and broken by the time it escaped his trembling lips. It was so quiet, you shouldn’t have been able to hear it over the hiss of water. So it took him off guard when your eyes opened and flicked in his direction.

He flinched, body jolting backwards like it intended to make a break for it, but it was like your stare locked him into place. His brain was screaming at him to do something; to move, to turn away, close his eyes, apologize, bash his head against the freaking wall, literally anything but stand there staring at you with his mouth open like a complete idiot. But he couldn’t.

The corner of your mouth curled, forming into a downright devilish smirk that sent hot tendrils of desire spiraling through his veins. Then you quirked a brow and it was like a burst of electricity bringing him back to life. His hands flew up from where they’d been frozen at his sides, slapping so hard over his eyes that he yelped in shock at the sting.

“Ohmygod I- I am so sorry! I am so—” he whirled around, spewing high pitched apologies as he scrambled for the door. Only, his eyes were closed so instead of bolting out the door he face planted into the wall next to the door. “Ow!”

Your low laughter rippled through the small bathroom and red hot embarrassment raced up his neck and into his face. He could only whimper out one finally strained apology as he clutched his throbbing nose and stumbled back into the darkness of your bedroom, slamming the door sharply behind him.

By the time he’d managed to scramble back into the hall, Taeyong felt like he was on fire. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he was certain if he dared to look in a mirror he’d be the equivalent of a tomato.

Humiliation gripped at his throat, squeezing painfully around his airway every time he recalled the previous events. He’d never be able to face you again. Not after that train wreck. Not ever. Groaning distraughtly, he sank against the wall, silently wishing that the floor would just swallow him up and put an end to his suffering.

But, there was something worse than the embarrassment. Something hotter and harder, throbbing shamelessly in the confines of his suddenly far too jeans. He saw you naked— wet and naked, looking like a freaking goddess beneath the stream of hot water, soap suds still clinging to your skin. He had never seen a woman like that before. Not in person, at least. And none as beautiful as you.

Biting his lip, he squeezed his legs together, trying his best to will away his progressively hardening erection. That, of course, did not work. And it didn’t help in the slightest that every time he so much as blinked, the image of you in the shower came rushing to the forefront of his mind, still fresh and vivid and devastating.

Oh god. There was no was no way he could go back to working on the project now. If he thought he was being unproductive before— he probably wouldn’t be able to get a single legible word written with the image of you and your body burned into the back of his eyelids.

He was doomed.

And he still needed to pee.

Damnit.

It was about nine at night when the low voices transformed into booming laughter, the walls practically vibrating under the barrage of stomping feet. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that they’d finished up on their project— either that or they mutually reached the end of their attention spans.

Regardless, you were bored of remaining cooped up in your bedroom merely for the sake of your roommate’s econ grade and needed to stretch your legs a bit. Not to mention you were beginning to crave something greasy and unhealthy. You were almost certain the group of college boys lounging in your living room wouldn’t be opposed to some pizza, fries, and milkshakes from your favorite delivery place.

“I don’t know about you boys but I’m starving!” You sang brightly as you all but skipped into the room. All eyes swung to you, wide and stunned as they watched you waltz over to where Mark sat in the love seat and throw yourself into his lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. He grunted under your weight, lip curling in annoyance but wrapped his arms securely around your stomach nonetheless. You pretended not to notice the lingering eyes of one particular boy, meticulously curled into the farthest corner of the couch. “Anyone down to order?”

“Ugh please!” Yukhei exclaimed, throwing his head back dramatically. “I am dying of hunger.”

The others were eager to voice their own agreement and you turned to Mark with an expectant smile. “Rubio’s?” He asked, already reaching for his phone.

“Read my mind.” You hummed, pinching his cheek until he hissed and swatted you away.

It was nothing short of chaos trying to get everyone’s orders, multiple overlapping voices making it hard to discern exactly who was asking for what, but somehow Mark managed to place all of the requests with only a handful of difficulties. Well, all but one.

“Taeyong.”

The boy’s head jerked up so fast at the sound of his name that you were surprised you hadn’t heard something crack. Up until then he’d been sitting quietly with his knees to his chest, staring at his feet, pointedly avoiding looking in your general direction. He could only hold your gaze for a few tense seconds before his cheeks flamed and he dropped his eyes.

“I– uh– y- yes?” He coughed, blinking hard.

You tilted your head, offering him an innocent smile. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding an unnecessarily suggestive pitch to the question, words dancing wickedly across your tongue.

Taeyong swallowed and pulled his knees tighter to his chest. “I– I’ll just have some of the- the pizza.” The words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth and your grin only widened as he became more and more flustered under the heat of your persistent stare.

“Perfect. Then we can share.”

The poor boy nearly choked on air when you abruptly pushed yourself off of Mark and sauntered over to where he sat, squeezing in between him and an eager Yukhei, who was more than happy to make room for you. His entire body went rigid, brief panic shooting across his features as you made yourself comfortable. It was tight with Jaehyun, Lucas, Taeyong and now you all squished onto the couch, so you were practically flush against him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. You pretended not to notice that he was holding his breath.

“Thirty minutes.” Mark announced, shutting off his phone and shoving it back into his pocket.

“What should we do while we wait?” Jaehyun asked, ignoring Yukhei as he whined about how he’d be dead of starvation before the food even arrived.

“Movie?” Haechan suggested.

You perked. “I know a good one.”

“No— no.” Mark cut in quickly, pointing a finger with the intention to reprimand in your direction. “Every time you pick a movie it’s either fucked up or really fucked up. So no.”

“Don’t be a pussy, Mark.” You huffed, wrinkling your nose at him. “Just because you don’t like horror movies doesn’t mean your friends don’t.”

“I, for one, love a good horror movie!” Yukhei remarked, a smug grin breaking across his lips as he shot a flirtatious wink in your direction.

Haechan scoffed. “Bullshit! You couldn’t sleep alone for a week after we watched The Shining. And that wasn’t even scary!”

“There was a tidal wave of blood.” He grumbled defensively, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped, lower lip jutting out dramatically.

“No tidal wave of blood is this one, promise.” You snickered, snatching the remote from the cluttered coffee table and switching on the television. It only took a few minutes of browsing through Netflix before you finally located the movie you’d saved to your watch list a few weeks ago but had never gotten the chance to watch.

Marked hopped up to flick off the lights as you pressed play, any excited or nervous murmurs coming to a halt as the opening credits rolled across the screen. Beside you, Taeyong tensed, squeezing his legs even tighter to his chest. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, not missing the nervous way he gnawed at his lower lip even in the darkness.

“Not good with horror movies?” You hummed, nudging his knee. He flinched in surprise, eyes shooting over to meet yours before he quickly diverted his attention back to the screen.

“No, not– not really.” He admitted weakly, clearing his throat.

A playful smirk twirled onto your lips and you subtly leaned into him, whispering near his ear, “you can hold my hand if you get scared.”

A fierce blush consumed his cheeks, illuminated by the soft grey light of the television. “I– I’ll be okay.” He coughed when his voice cracked and you chuckled under your breath, opting to cut the poor boy some slack… for now.

The movie progressed with the usual eerie start before transitioning into something lighter, though the low hum of anticipation-building music never ceased. Even if at some point it became rather repetitive, you thoroughly enjoyed a good horror movie. Most of the time, they failed to meet expectations and you left feeling rather disappointed that your stomach hadn’t leapt into your throat any point throughout the film. However, every once in a while, you were pleasantly surprised.

Now, was not one of those times.

Boredom quickly settled over you as the plot developed, revealing itself to be almost identical to a number of horror movies you’d watched in the past. You slumped back in your seat, a subtle scowl staining your lips. But then… inspiration. Devious, unquestionably self indulgent inspiration that risked putting a certain someone in a possibly very awkward (but also very delightful) position.

The slow slide of your eyes from the television over to the boy seated at your left revealed that not everyone found the movie to be boring and repetitive. Taeyong was practically trembling. He had both of his hands over his face, wide, uncertain eyes peeking out timidly from between his index and middle fingers.

You had to sink your teeth into your lip in order to subdue the large grin threatening to break across your face.

Fuck, he’s too adorable.

Unable to resist, you allowed a curious hand to wander towards his leg. With a brush so subtle it could’ve been mistaken for a breeze, you traced a finger over the seam of his pants. But, with his senses on high alert, it wasn’t a sensation he missed. He jolted violently, head swinging in your direction. There was fear in his eyes, but it quickly melted into relief else once he realized it was you and not some demon.

Then his eyes drifted to where your finger lingered, hovering over his clothed thigh, and the relief transformed into something else entirely. Something hot and shameful and desperate, something he tried to hide behind frantically fluttering eyelids and quivering lips. But it was unmistakable.

You lifted your brows, a silent question swirling in your gaze. He swallowed, breath coming out in quick, shallow huffs as the unnameable emotion thickened inside of him, then he nudged his leg shyly towards you. The air you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs rushed out in one quick exhale, a subtle smirk curling onto your lips as excitement swirled in your gut. Taeyong sucked his lower lip into his mouth as your open palm landed boldly on his lower thigh, fingers pressing gently into the clothed muscle just above his knee.

For a few minutes, it remained there, not moving any lower or any high, simply resting on his leg and he found himself relaxing beneath your touch. The heat of your hand was a welcome –comforting, even– distraction from the horror movie that had progressed to the point in the plot where the reckless characters put themselves directly into the line of danger instead of taking the intelligent path that would help them avoid it all together. You could feel the tension returning to Taeyong’s muscles as suspense building music poured from the surround sound speakers.

In a two sided attempt to both comfort and tease, you began gently massaging his thigh. His breath audibly hitched, gaze straying from the screen once more in favor of watching the slow, deliberate motion of your fingers squeezing around his leg. That alone was enough to set his long neglected desire to flames. It burned within him, hot and dangerous, turning his face a dark, flattering crimson.

It was too much. He’d never been touched like this before. You weren’t even close to his crotch and he could still feel the distinctive hardening beneath the zipper of his jeans which were growing tighter and tighter with every passing moment. At this rate, he’d make a mess of himself before the movie even reached its climax.

The mere thought of coming untouched was enough to make his head feel dizzy, a mixture of humiliation and heady lust licking at his nerves.

He couldn’t believe he was feeling this way, in a room full of his friends no less. If one of them were to look over, even through darkness, it would be impossible to miss your hand laid across his lap or the feverish blush coating his face, illuminated by the dull light of the tv.

Then, your hand shifted higher. It was a minute movement, couldn’t have been more than an inch or two. But it had his pulse spiking in his veins nonetheless, blood rushing downward. You gripped gently at the inside of his slim thigh, thumb tracing slow, calculated circles into the rough material of his jeans. He trembled beneath the teasing ministrations, jaw clenched to fight back the urge to moan as your curious touch wandered upwards once more.

“Is this alright?”

The question came unexpectedly, a sudden rush of warm breath hitting the curve of his throat. He sucked his lips into his mouth, shivering faintly at the low, rough sound of your voice, just quiet enough that none of the other men in the room could make it out.

He offered a sharp, jerky nod, desperately heaving in deep breath through his nose. The corner of your mouth curled.

“God you're shaking. Are you that sensitive? Or do you just get off on getting felt up in front of all your friends? How naughty.” You chuckled tauntingly, words borderline malicious.

“I– I don’t— I��m not—” he swallowed, shaking his head frantically in denial of your words, despite the flames they ignited inside of him.

“I think you are.” You purred, tracing your index finger lightly over his prominent bulge, eliciting a strangled moan from his trembling lips. He was fortunate enough that at the very moment the sound escaped, some ditzy bimbo began screaming her lungs out in the movie. Still, he slapped a hand over his offending lips, looking around frantically to see if anyone had heard his slip up. Luckily enough, it seemed they hadn’t.

This was payback, he realized abruptly, this was payback for walking in on you showering.

But even if it was—

It felt too damn good.

His head tipped back, hand surging to cover his burning face and stifle his whimpers as you suddenly gripped firmly at his clothed length. A low, appreciative hum thrummed through your chest as you felt him twitch, delighting in just how responsive he was to your touch. His thighs squeezed together, hips shuddering upwards as you mapped him out.

The urge to set your teeth upon his neck was almost overwhelming, but you resisted only because it might draw some attention from the room’s other, currently oblivious, occupants. You doubted Yukhei would miss it, even if he was desperately hiding his eyes behind those astoundingly massive hands.

But shit was it tempting.

His pretty porcelain skin would look so good painted in varying shades of pink and red. So sweet and pure… you wanted to taint him.

He couldn’t stop moving now, squirming and quivering in place. He was unraveling right before your eyes, and you were devouring it. What a sight…

Warmth stirred in your belly, and you rolled your palm down. He jolted violently, then in the next second he was up on his feet. It happened so quickly that you nearly fell over, just barely catching yourself from falling into the spot he previously occupied. Yukhei shrieked in shock, throwing himself directly into Jaehyun’s lap.

“Fuck, Taeyong! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Haechan shrilled, clutching a pillow against his chest. Instead of responding, Taeyong jerked forward, the movement sharp and robotic, like his body wasn’t quite caught up to his brain.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asked, squinting at him through the darkness. “And why do you look so—”

“B- B- Bathroom!” Taeyong squeaked out abruptly. You could only watch with wide eyes and gaping lips as he proceeded to run out of the living room like his ass was on fire.

“Movie must’ve freaked him out.” Johnny muttered.

“It’s not even that bad.” Yukhei scoffed in a voice too high pitched for his words to sound believable, grunting when Jaehyun shoved him off of his lap. Noisy banter was quick ensue. Noisy and distracting enough for you to make a quick and silent escape without catching any of the other boys’ attention.

“Taeyong?” You called softly, worry churning in your gut that you overstepped or upset him. “Tae, I’m sorry if I—” you gasped, words cutting off in your throat as a hand found your wrist and you were quickly tugged around the corner and into the unlit hallway.

The motion was so unexpected you ended up tripping over your own feet, having to slam a hand against the wall to steady yourself. But it was only when you felt a rush of quick, warm breath against your face that you realized the position you’d gotten yourself into. Taeyong was standing in front of you, face flushed a feverish shade of red, faint perspiration glistening on his skin, and he was standing with his spine flush against the wall, effectively caged in by your body. And he was looking at you.

Really looking at you.

With the kind of eyes that had something tightening deliciously in the pit of your stomach, chills of excitement ricocheting through your veins.

“Tae?” His name was less than a breath on your lips, laced with an unspoken question. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, fluttering gaze dancing across your face.

“I almost…” he swallowed, shivering voice tapering off as he became overwhelmed by the proximity. He could smell your shampoo, a subtle, smoky-vanilla kind of scent that made his head feel dizzy. “I almost c- came.”

The corner of your mouth swirled, both amused and charmed by the way he whispered the word, tone so innocent and shy that the filthy meaning behind it almost became misconstrued in your head.

“Do you want to come, Taeyong?” You asked quietly, jutting a knee forward to press between his thighs. He gasped, trembling lips silently caressing the shape of your name as his hands shot forward, clutching desperately onto the sides of your shirt. A shy nod was all he could muster, the words feeling far too dirty to say aloud. But you weren’t satisfied.

“Say it.” You murmured, nose brushing against his. His breath hitched at the command, warmth flushing through his veins beneath the staggering heat of your dark, hooded gaze. “If you want it, say it. If you don’t, tell me now.”

“I want it!” He said quickly, only to flush and shrink in on himself, taken aback by his own outburst. Licking his lips, he repeated himself in a much softer voice, “I– I want it.”

You let out a low hum, curving a gentle hand around his jaw. “Can I kiss you?”

A shock ran through his body, his wide eyes snapping down to trace to soft lines of your mouth. “Yes.” He breathed, suddenly desperate for a taste of your lips. You didn’t deny him.

The first brush of your lips against his is light, delicate… teasing. It made his knees tremble, fierce anticipation and wild desire running rampant through him. He opened up for you like a goddamn flower in bloom, melting sweetly when you applied even the slightest bit more pressure. His mouth was soft and warm, his kiss shy. And there was something ever so endearing about the way he clutched at your top like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

You kept the pace deliberately slow, relishing in the soft moans that fluttered from his chest as you sucked his lower lip into your mouth, gently sinking your teeth into the sensitive flesh. He was wracked by a violent full body shiver when you licked over the seam of his lip.

God he’s adorable.

His strong reactions made you wonder if he’d ever been kissed like this before. Or, perhaps, this was a new experience entirely.

“Taeyong.” He whimpered when you abruptly broke away from the kiss, but you ignored it. “Are you a virgin?”

His eyes widened, a deep red flooding his cheeks. Then, he nodded, gaze dropping to the floor as the tips of his ears darkened.

Wicked excitement curled in your gut, heat licking at your veins at the thought of being the first to corrupt such a sweet… innocent…

“Have you ever been touched before?”

He shook his head, chest pressing against your with every jagged inhale he drew into his lungs.

You dipped a hand between your bodies, trailing teasingly down his stomach. “Would you like to be touched?” Your voice had dropped at least an octave, a low, rasping whisper that nearly made him keen.

“Yes.” A devious grin settled across your lips at the quickness of his reply. Didn’t even need to think that one over, huh?

You slid your hand over his crotch, feeling his hips buck uncontrollably when you squeezed. “Just looking at you,” you began, toying with his zipper, “I never would’ve guessed what a little slut you are.”

“I- I’m not a slut.” He whimpered, digging his fingers into your waist.

“Aren’t you, though?” You popped the button of his jeans. “I mean, take a good look at yourself, Yongie; letting yourself get felt up and teased by your best friend’s roommate while they’re just in the next room over. Seems pretty slutty to me.”

Taeyong couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his chest at the degrading word, his cock twitching within the confines of his boxers. Slipping a finger beneath the elastic, you tugged it away from his skin, letting out a playful coo when his weeping pink tip peeked out. The blush on his face intensified tenfold, both of his hands dropping down instinctively to cover himself. But you were faster, snatching his wrists and pinning them against the wall on either side of his head.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Shivering, he offered a compliant nod.

“Good boy.”

He barely had time to form a reaction to the praise before he felt you around him, stroking and caressing. The responding moan that burst from his lips was loud— too loud. You were quick to cover his gaping mouth, successfully muffling the series of succeeding gasps and whimpers.

“Careful, sweetheart,” you clicked your tongue, watching the way his eyes fluttered and rolled as you tightened your grip around his cock, “you wouldn’t want your hyungs to find out what a little slut you’re being, now would you? Mark was so kind, inviting you into his home… How do you think he’d feel if he were to see you taking advantage of his hospitality, getting your pretty little cock played with by his roommate? How shameless...”

Taeyong whimpered, and you felt the gentle press of his lips against your palm, followed by a meek flick of his tongue. He was looking at you now, really looking at you, with the kind of pathetic, wanting eyes that never failed to make your skin burn in excitement. You wondered if you could make him cry, overwhelm him with pleasure to the point where he couldn’t keep his emotions at bay. The desire to ruin him was almost unbearable.

Swirling your thumb over his tip, you slotted a leg between his, pressing up against him from underneath. He nearly keened at the pressure, hips rolling greedily over your thigh, simultaneously pumping his cock into your closed fist. Heaven, this must be heaven. Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to succumb to his desires so readily, with such… enthusiasm. But this Taeyong surprised you at every turn. You’d thought he’d be shy, reserved, hesitant to give in, but here he was, riding your thigh and fucking your hand like his life depended on it, his muffled moans pulsing beneath your palm.

It’d be a flat out lie to say you weren’t beyond turned on.

There was a slick warmth building between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of your underwear, and tight knots in your stomach, threatening to burst at any given moment. The knowledge that less than thirty feet away, your roommate and all his friends were gathered and one stray moan from the crumbling man before you could give away all the filthy things you were doing to him stroked the lustful flames blazing through your blood. One glimpse into those hooded, glassy brown eyes told you he was suffering from a similar burn.

“Turn around.” You demanded, somewhat breathless as you tore your hands off of him. A low whimper escaped past trembling lips at the loss of stimulation, a shiver rippling down his spine as his hard, abandoned cock swung through empty air. Regardless, he was quick to comply, spinning himself around and pressing his palms flat against the wall. You hummed a praise, pleased with his eager compliance, rewarding him with your touch. He gasped, forced to sink his teeth into his lip to stifle his whimpers as your hands slipped over his body: one returning to stroke his dick while the other pushed beneath the material of his top, venturing up to his chest where your fingers set to toying with his sensitive nipples.

“(y/n)—” he moaned your name desperately, rocking his body back against yours as overwhelming pleasure pulsed through his veins.

“Easy, sweetheart,” you chuckled darkly, splaying a steadying palm across his hips as they began grinding back into yours, “you sound like you're about to burst.”

He moaned, shuddering when you caressed his sensitive tip, and an idea struck you.

“Can you do something for me, Tae?” You asked, voice a low, rasping against the shell of his ear. “Can you suck?”

Any short lived confusion dissipated from his mind when he felt your fingers nudging at the soft flesh of his lips. A deep blush flooded into his cheeks, but his mouth opened nonetheless, shyly taking your digits inside.

“There you go…” you purred, feeling his tongue lick delicately at the pads of your middle and ring finger. He sucked, and you lowered your head to press slow, encouraging kisses laced with whispered praises to the juncture of his throat. You felt the soft vibrations of his muffled moans quivering through your knuckles and against your lips. He was shaking, the stimulation to his cock causing violent tremors to wrack his body. He wasn’t far off from release, you could tell as much by the way he was twitching and the slow increase in volume of his sounds.

But you weren’t finished yet.

Not by a long shot.

You pulled your fingers from his mouth, the suction of his lips giving with a lewd, wet pop. A filthy sound coming from such innocent lips.

Leaning forward, you nipped gently at the shell of his red tinted ear, hand releasing his dick in favor of venturing beneath the hem of his pants. You heard his breath hitched and offered quietly, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Taeyong nodded in understanding, but offered no resistance as you pushed the thick denim down over the soft curve of his ass. His shoulders jumped, a gasp shooting from his lips when you slid a saliva soaked finger between his cheeks, coming to the abrupt realization of what your intentions were.

“O– oh—”

“Is this alright?”

He swallowed, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “I– I’ve never…”

You soothed a hand down the front of his thigh, “it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

There was no judgement in your tone, rather a gentleness to the reassurance that put his buzzing nerves at ease. “That’s not it,” he shook his head, gnawing at the corner of his lip as a soft pink crept across his cheeks, “j– just…”

“Just?”

Taeyong drew in a deep, trembling breath. Your furrowed brows shot to your hairline, heat twisting in your gut as he suddenly bent himself over, sticking his ass out, practically fucking presenting himself to you. “B- be gentle…” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.

Steam would surely start coming out of your nose if your temperature rose any further. This is fucking ridiculous. How was it possible for a man to be so cute yet so sexy all at once? This couldn’t be good for your health…

Smirking deviously, you settled a palm between his shoulder blades, pressing down ever so slightly and watching as he delicately arched his spine. “I’m always gentle.”

A hiccuping moan rushed from his chest at the first careful press of your finger, his brows furrowing deeply as his muscles tightened in response to the foreign stretch.

“Relax, sweetheart.” You reminded lightly, settling soothing kisses across his shoulder. He drew in a series of deep breaths, allowing himself to adjust to the sensation of having something inside of him while melting into the tender caress of your cool lips across his feverish skin. You felt the slow dissipation of tension, felt the way he melted beneath you. “There you go…” you cooed, easing into him until your knuckle before allowing him a few moments to adjust.

He was panting, forehead thudding softly against the wall as his hips trembled, a strange but not unpleasant feeling sparking to life inside of him.

“Oh…” it was a barely audible sound, soft and breathless of shuddering lips. But you didn’t miss it, didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, his walls tight relaxing ever so faintly around the intruding digit. The corner of your mouth curled upwards in a salacious smirk, and you curled your finger experimentally.

His reaction was instantaneous, a moan of surprise entwined with unexpected pleasure rushing from his flush throat. He glanced back at you from over his shoulder, eyes wide and trembling, hazy with an emotion you immediately recognized as pure, unfiltered lust. Your grin widened, almost triumphant as you whispered, “feel that?”

He nodded rapidly, a gasp of breath wracking his chest. “Yes,” his hands were curling into fists where they were braced against the plaster wall.

“Wanna feel it again?”

The sound he let out was a combination of several things, keening and desperate for the sensation he’d never before experienced. “Please. Please.”

It was impossible to say anything but yes when he begged like that.

You rewarded him by stretching him out around a second finger, his knees nearly giving out when you thrust them in as deep as they would go. He was an absolute mess, forced to slap a quivering hand over his gaping mouth when his teeth proved insufficient at keeping his sounds in. You were enjoying yourself perhaps a little too much, enjoying watching him slowly crumble, enjoying watching his innocence shatter into tiny irreparable pieces on the floor beside glistening drops of precum. He was just too irresistible…

“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” He was nodding before you even finished the question, muffled moans and sobs escaping through his fingers as he fucked himself back onto yours. You curve a hand around the shape of his jaw, tugging his head back at an angle that surely causes a strain in his neck, and slot your lips into his. Shoving your tongue down his throat proves a far more efficient means of keeping him quiet.

But when you curled your fingers inside of him, subsequently stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves, even your mouth wasn’t enough to stifle the shriek of pleasure that burst from his throat. You were hoping the screams you heard emulating from the other room were enough to drown it out.

“Keep your voice down.” You all but snarled, curling a hand around his throat.

“I- I can’t— oh god, it feels so g- good.” He babbled, voice strained from the sheer effort of trying to keep himself from crying out in bliss. “I’m g- gonna come— I’m gonna c- come—” the sound of him choking on his words, gasping for breath around the added resistance of your restricting hold was even hotter than you imagined it would be.

“Gone on, sweetheart. Let me see you make a mess of yourself.” You kissed the shell of his ear, deciding then to have mercy and offer his pathetic, weeping cock a helping hand. He was finished the moment your fingers grazed his tip, struck with an orgasm so powerful it had his knees buckling beneath the weight of his quivering body.

His jaw when slack, unleashing every pent up sound he’d managed to keep bottled up thus far. They came rushing out of him too quickly to stop, not that you made much of an effort. You were enjoying the way he was moaning your name like it was his saving grace far too much to care whether or not the other boys were hearing. In fact, the thought of them hearing their sweet, innocent Taeyong whimpering like a bitch in heat, moaning your name, gave you an unexpected rush of delight.

You didn’t stop fucking your fingers into his tight little hole until you were certain you’d milked him for all he was worth, until he was reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess against your chest, barely able to keep himself upright.

“Oh my g- god.” He murmured shakily, head falling back to rest on your shoulder.

A low chuckle slid from your lips as you gently released his spent cock, simultaneously pulling out of him. He winced faintly, whining weakly at the unpleasant emptiness that ensued.

“That felt pretty good didn’t it?” You teased.

He bit his lip, humming airily as he melted into your hold.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Taeyong?” Your words danced over the curve of his throat, flooding his senses with the fluttering implication. Blushing, he nodded, a shy bob of his head that caused the sweat soaked fringes of his bangs to fall over his eyes, clinging delicately to his pretty eyelashes. “Words?”

“I—” he swallowed, gaze flitting as his face reddened further, “I’m a g- good boy.”

You mouth curled deviously. Holding your come covered hand up to his panting mouth, you whispered against the shell of his ear, “good boys clean up their mess.”

His breath hitched, wide eyes jumping over to meet yours. You held his gaze boldly, cocking an expectant brow. Then, ever so lightly, his tongue dipped out from between red bitten lips, kitten licking his come from your fingertips. You could’ve come right then and there, watching him shyly lap his own release from your hand. Honestly you would’ve been happy to stay like that all night, his tongue tracing the lines of your palm, caressing your knuckles…

But then the doorbell rang, and someone cleared their throat in the other room.

“Uh… foods here.”

Taeyong leapt away from you with a gasp, flushing deeply as his hands flew to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“D- do you think they—” his voice cracked and he coughed as crimson crept up his neck.

You smirked, not in the least bit ashamed.

“Oh, definitely.”

A/N; well i dropped off the face of the earth, sorry about that loves. but i think you’ll be happy to know that i have a number of wip sitting in drafts, should i tease the banners?

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