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sunflowerseob · 3 days ago

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Let Me Love You | Kim Jongseob

Everything changed between you and your best friend after a freak Halloween candy mishap. Now you're left wondering if you should run from that change or run with it.

🩵 Pairing: bestfriend!kimjongseob (candycurse!kimjongseob) x reader

🩵 Word Count: 3.5k

🩵 Genre: Smut, pwp, fluff, minor angst, besties to lovers

🩵 Rating: 18+

🩵 Warnings: Making out, explicit language, it gets angsty briefly sorry 🥹, Seob is so soft and sweet in this ughhhh 🫠, grinding, marking, biting, groping, lots of teasing, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, scratching, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum eating, soft but chaotic ending as always 🤩

A/N: Was hoping to finish this in time for Seob's bday but it ended up being a little late 🥹 This was supposed to be a drabble for Candy Curse but my severe yapitis just turned it into a follow up fic instead 😂 Thank you so much to everyone who read and supported Candy Curse, you're all so sweet and lovely and I appreciate you so much 🥺🩵 Hope you enjoy this if you decide to give it a read 🥰

Masterlist

When you’d invited Jongseob over to your place to hang out, you’d really had every intention of doing just that. But ever since your little Halloween candy incident a few weeks ago, “hanging out” always ended up leading to hot and heavy make out sessions with your best friend either on top of or underneath you. And today definitely hadn’t been an exception.

Jongseob was beaming when he pulled back from your mouth, his pretty pink lips wet and swollen. You brushed back his bangs that had started to fall over his eyes, a giggle escaping you, “What are you smiling at?”

“I just really like kissing you,” he said, his cheeks flushing adorably, “like a lot.”

Your heart noticeably stuttered in your chest. The two of you still had yet to talk about where exactly this was going. You’d been a little too busy fooling around at every given opportunity, and further complicating your friendship.

If you were being honest, you could really feel yourself starting to fall for him more and more every time you were together. And it scared the absolute shit out of you. Especially because you really weren’t sure where Jongseob was at with all of this. You were too afraid of ruining what you had by risking bringing up how you were feeling. So for now you just allowed yourself to indulge in this time with him.

“Well, the feeling is definitely mutual.”

Your favorite little crooked tooth poked out as he grinned down at you. Your hand settled on the back of his neck before pulling him back down to your lips. Jongseob grunted against your mouth, hands harshly gripping your waist. He shifted on top of you slightly, his erection brushing against your thigh and making you gasp softly. You would never get over how hard he got just from kissing you like this, and the fact that you were able to have that effect on him. You also always got wet embarrassingly fast, so he clearly had the same kind of power over you.

“Shit.” Jongseob hissed as soon as his fingers slipped inside your panties, discovering the evidence for himself.

His digits swept through your folds before teasingly circling your clit, and you whined underneath him.

“You’re always so wet, fuck, it’s so hot.” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and mouthing along the skin there.

“Seob, please.” you begged breathlessly as your hips instinctively followed the movement of his fingers.

His head suddenly shot up, and his dark eyes were hazy with desire as he looked down at you, “Let me eat you out.”

You blinked back at him in surprise, your face heating at his request.

“W-What?”

“Please. Been dying to feel you come on my tongue. Can’t get your taste out of my head, ever since that first time.” he went on, his wet muscle swiping over his lips as he talked, making you shiver below him.

Just the thought of his cute little fluffy head between your legs had you going out of your mind with want, but it also felt terrifyingly intimate. Maybe too intimate. Like if you let him do this, then you would be a goner for sure. You were already on the verge of being down bad beyond repair…

It really didn't help matters that you also had never actually come from oral alone before either. Mainly because you were usually too up in your head to focus on the pleasure. Making Jongseob feel bad about not being able to get you there was the last thing you wanted. Fuck, why did you have to make everything so complicated with him.

“Seob, you really don’t have to. It’s okay.” you tried assuring him, but it just seemed to confuse him as he pouted back at you.

“Baby, I want to, really.”

God the pet name. He really was going to be the death of you. Jongseob seemed to suddenly notice the emotions warring inside you because his hand stopped its movements between your legs, moving to rest on your thigh instead.

“Y/N, talk to me. What's going on?” he asked gently as his thumb smoothed comforting circles over your skin.

Your face felt like it was on fire, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him.

“Seob, listen, I, um, I've never… God, this is so embarrassing!” you cried, your hands coming up to cover your face.

It was silent for several moments. You peeked up at him through your fingers and saw that he was still trying to work out the meaning behind your words. His concentrated expression was so damn cute that it made your chest hurt. His eyes suddenly widened in understanding, and his cheeks mirrored your own with how deeply they flushed.

“Oh.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “I know, I’m a total freak.”

Jongseob chuckled before reaching for you to pull you to sit up with him. You were the older of the two of you, but right now it felt like the opposite as he took your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You're not a freak. Well, I mean, you're still you, so you are.” he teased, earning a glare from you, “But not for that. Can I ask, do you just not like it?”

He was being so sweet and trying so hard to comfort you, and it was kind of killing you.

“It's not that I don't like it…” you trailed off, your voice quiet.

Jongseob looked at you with all the patience in the world as he waited for you to go on.

“I guess it's just, fuck, like I'm usually too busy overthinking to be able to enjoy it. So I've never been able to get there.” you finished, wishing you could crawl out of your skin.

Jongseob appeared to be contemplating how to respond, and you honestly couldn't blame him.

“Too busy overthinking? Yeah, that does sound like you.” the man sitting in front of you quipped, and you immediately swatted his arm in retaliation.

He squealed as he dodged your next attack attempt before breaking into a fit of giggles. You couldn't help but laugh along with him. This dynamic was just so familiar and comfortable.

“Seriously though Y/N, I don't think you're weird for feeling that way. Maybe it truly just isn't for you, or maybe you just haven't found the right partner yet. Either way, you're still entitled to feeling how you feel.”

You'd obviously been seeing him differently lately, but just when had he grown up so much? And when had he become so caring and sweet and infuriatingly attractive. Ugh.

Plus him saying partner had your heart pounding violently against your rib cage. You were so incredibly fucked. It was about time you just started accepting it. You had feelings for your best friend, and rather than going away over time, they were only getting stronger.

“Hey, Seob?” you spoke up, hoping you’d be able to get the words out before you lost your nerve.

“Hmm?”

He was giving you his full attention, curiosity sparking across his features. You pushed down your building nausea as the words spilled out of you, “I think I want to date.”

His eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and closed several times.

“W-Wait. You mean like m-me? You want to d-date me?” he eventually stuttered out.

“O-Only if you want to date me.” you replied equally as eloquently.

Jongseob was getting redder by the second, and you couldn't help but think that you’d just made a huge mistake. He groaned before letting his head fall back, and panic started to spread throughout your entire body.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed loudly.

You immediately tried to backpedal as fast as possible.

“Seob, hey, it's okay. Just forget I said anything okay? I don't know what I was thinking.” you rambled, nervous laughter escaping you.

His head snapped back up, and now he was the one looking panicked.

“God, no, wait, that's not, that's not it at all. Shit, I’m so bad at this.” he said, raking a frustrated hand through his dual toned hair, “Y/N, listen. I was planning on asking you out. But I wanted to be way cooler and way more collected than I am right now when I did it. I just was having a hard time working up the courage in case you said no, and yeah, hah, you just kinda beat me to it I guess.”

You felt so fond as you took in the man in front of you, letting his words sink in fully. A dumb grin broke out across your face before you could stop it.

“Okay, now what are you smiling at?” he queried in confusion, echoing your earlier question back to you.

You gently placed a hand on his cheek before leaning in to kiss him, Jongseob sighing against your lips. When you pulled back, he was noticeably calmer, but still seemed mildly confused.

“I just can't believe I’ve been cursed to have a crush on a loser trapped in a hot man’s body.”

Your best friend frowned at you, and you giggled at how adorable he was.

“Choosing to ignore the loser comment and focusing on the fact that you think I’m hot and have a crush on me.” Jongseob remarked, flashing you a cocky smirk.

You laughed and shook your head, arms winding around his neck, “It’s okay, Seobie. You’re still a hot loser, but you’re my hot loser.”

“Hey!” he cried defensively, but you were quickly shutting him up by reconnecting your mouths once again.

As soon as your tongue pushed past his lips, he was immediately using his body to frantically pin you back down against the sheets. The bulge in his pants brushed right against your covered core, and you gasped into the kiss. Jongseob repeated the movement, moaning into your mouth when your hips rose up to meet him.

Your hands were shaking slightly as they went to pull up his loose white tank, and Jongseob broke away momentarily to slip the garment over his head. Every time he bared himself to you like this, all you could think about was how pretty he was. He had the most beautiful collar bones, and they had kind of become somewhat of an obsession of yours. The spots of color you’d left on him last time still had yet to fade from his skin. You must have been ogling for a little too long because you heard Jongseob chuckle, and it pulled you out of your trance.

“Careful Y/N, your marking kink is showing.”

“As if you don’t love seeing where I’ve been.” you taunted back, making a show of slowly unzipping your hoodie.

His eyes darkened at the sight of your exposed breasts. You went on teasing him as you trailed your fingers over your hardening nipples as well as the various marks littering your own chest.

“I know I sure love seeing all your little reminders later.”

“Fuck. Baby, please.” he practically whimpered, and you felt drunk on this power you had over him.

“Please what, Seobie?” you asked sweetly.

“Please, will you let me try? I promise I’ll stop immediately if you don’t like it. I just, I wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

He sounded so desperate and so whiny, and it had you clenching around nothing. You found that you were curious if Jongseob would be able to change your mind about the act. Plus, when he was asking so nicely, you felt like there wasn’t much, if anything, that you would refuse him on. You sighed in defeat, even though internally you were tingling with excitement.

“Okay, Seob, you win.”

His face lit up and he smiled proudly, crooked canine jutting from his bottom lip. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Hurry up before I change my mind.”

He saluted you, and you couldn’t help but start giggling. Your hot loser indeed.

His weight settled back over you before he leaned down to kiss you. You groaned softly as you felt his hands greedily grabbing at your tits, and Jongseob took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He didn’t linger for long though, his lips sliding over your jaw, down your neck, and across your chest. He gave kitten licks to one of your nipples while his hands traveled lower to begin tugging down your leggings and underwear. You sat up so that you could help pull them down your legs before laying back against the sheets, now completely bare.

Jongseob’s eyes blew out slightly as they roamed over your figure, and you noticed his cock straining against his jeans. You looped a finger through one of his belt loops, “Need these off. Now.”

“You know, if we’re gonna date, we’re really gonna have to talk about how you sexualize me all the time.” Jongseob whined as he stood up beside the bed.

“Shut up and strip, Seob.” you retorted, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

He tried to keep up the act, pouting at you while he shimmied out of his jeans, but you still managed to catch his shy little smile. He still had his blue boxers on, and you were about to say something to give him shit about it. But then all thoughts left your head at the feeling of his tongue running a line up your stomach, one of his hands roughly palming at your breast. You squirmed as he placed loving kisses all over your tummy and hips. Jongseob’s free hand dipped between your thighs to cup your dripping cunt, and your back arched at the sensation.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I can do this to you. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over it.” he said in awe.

He used both hands to grip your thighs and open yourself up to him, and your legs began to tremble in anticipation. Jongseob’s lips gently brushed your inner thigh, “Relax, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

It was really hard to relax when his mouth was sucking fresh marks into your skin, his tongue soothing the sore flesh immediately after.

“Seob.” you gasped out, shutting your eyes as you tried to brace yourself.

“Hey,” Jongseob piped up, giving a soft tap to one of your thighs, “look at me for a second.”

Your eyes fluttered open, and you did your best to focus on him. His two toned hair was a fluffy mess, threatening to fall over his eyes again, and tickling the inside of your thighs. He looked up at you with so much affection that it actually felt like your heart might burst, and your favorite tooth was sticking out in the way you had come to love.

“Remember, if it doesn’t feel good, tell me and I’ll stop, okay? We can stop whenever you want, I mean it.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Jongseob pressed one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before finally putting his mouth on you. You hissed as he licked at your slick folds, one of your hands instinctively tangling in his hair while the other clutched at the pillow under your head. The man between your legs moaned into your cunt as his tongue pushed inside you.

“Seob, fuck, oh my god!” you cried out, nails scratching against his scalp.

Jongseob briefly surfaced and you groaned at the sight of his shiny lips.

“That was a good oh my god right?”

“Yes. Please, Seobie, don’t stop.” you pleaded, guiding his head back down.

He dove in much more confidently this time, using his hold on your thighs to spread your legs wider and give him even better access. The way his tongue hungrily fucked into you had you writhing and panting on the bed. And every time his nose bumped against your clit, it sent a little jolt through you.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” Jongseob murmured, and your face instantly flushed at the newest pet name, “Shit. Even better than I remember.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking against his face and making him grunt as he continued devouring you. This was the first time this had ever felt good, and the sensation was overwhelmingly intense. A scream tore from your throat as soon as you felt Jongseob’s lips close around your swollen clit.

“Holy shit…wait…is that…still good?”

“Oh my god, Jongseob, if you don’t keep going and make me come, I’m actually going to kill you.” you threatened, but it came out as more of a needy whine than anything else.

“Fuck, okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

His tongue flicked over your bud in quick strokes, and you were in disbelief that he was really going to get you there. Your moans mixed together until you couldn’t even tell who they belonged to anymore.

“So close, Seob, fuck.”

“Look at me, princess.” he requested suddenly, and you clenched at how low and rough his voice sounded.

You knew it would be your undoing, but you glanced down anyway. And sure enough, you nearly came on the spot.

You barely even recognized Jongseob, looking so fucked out with his face covered in your arousal and something truly wild glinting in his dark eyes. He held your gaze as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, and you tugged harshly at his wavy strands. You did your best to keep watching him until you couldn't anymore, throwing your head back against the pillow and sobbing his name as you fell apart.

Jongseob refused to let up, lapping at your release like he was in some kind of drunken trance.

“S-Seob…t-too much…” you said weakly, but your words didn't seem to register to him at all.

His face stayed buried in your cunt, all his little groans and whimpers vibrating through you. Before you knew it, you were coming again, your body falling slack against the sheets soon after.

“Oh my god, baby. Fuck, Y/N.” Jongseob half babbled half moaned before finally letting his head drop to rest on top of your thigh.

You affectionately ran your fingers through his hair because that was all you had the energy for at the moment, and Jongseob hummed in content.

“I bet you're gonna try to say that was just the candy, huh?”

God, he was such a little shit. And you were down horrendous for him.

You laughed in disbelief, “Actually, you brat, I was going to say that you’ve officially changed my mind about being eaten out. But you know what, maybe you're right. Maybe it was just the candy.”

“Whateverrrr. Just admit I just gave you the best head of your life, you freak.” he shot back, lightly biting your thigh in reproach.

You were too spent to keep arguing with him, and honestly he wasn't wrong. But you would never tell him that. So instead, you just ruffled the hell out of his hair until he got so annoyed that he ducked out of your reach.

“Ah shit.” he said under his breath once he was sitting up again.

You glanced at him, feeling confused, but then oh. All of his attention had been on making you feel good, and he had completely neglected himself.

“Aw, Seobie, come here” you called gently, reaching out for him, “let me take care of you.”

He blushed furiously and turned away from you.

“No, it's uh, it's okay. I’m fine, really.” he mumbled, sounding almost embarrassed.

You slowly sat up, but he stayed facing away from you.

“Baby, let me help, please. You made me feel so good, I wanna return the favor.”

Jongseob peeked over his shoulder at you, his cheeks still tinted pink.

“Seob, what is it?” you queried as you scooted closer to him.

“Ugh, fuuuuck. This really isn't going to help my loser image.” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder, “What isn't?”

Jongseob let out the world's longest sigh before gesturing at the lower half of his body. Your eyes went wide as you took in the giant wet spot staining the front of his boxers. Then you noticed the trail of cum dripping down his leg. Fuck.

“Wait, Seob, you really came just from that?” you asked incredulously.

“Can we please not talk about it?” he whined, his hands trying to cover up the evidence.

“Why?” you pressed, nipping at his shoulder, “I think it's fucking hot.”

Jongseob frowned back at you.

“Please don't lie just to make me feel better.”

“I'm not lying.” you insisted as you reached down to trail a finger up his leg.

Jongseob stared at you dumbfounded as you gathered his cum on your finger before sliding the digit into your mouth to lick it clean.

“You're fucking insane.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, “What can I say? I think it's sexy when a guy creams his pants.”

The man next to you visibly cringed, and you giggled like a maniac.

“You really are a freak.”

“Yeah, but I'm your freak.”

“Yeah. And I'm your hot loser.”

“Correction. You're my hot loser boyfriend.”

Jongseob beamed at that, his crooked tooth poking out adorably, and his face flushing once more.

“Yeah, I am.”

#p1harmony #kim jongseob #p1harmony smut #jongseob smut #kim jongseob x reader #p1harmony fic

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sansaorgana · 3 days ago

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— SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!human(?)!Reader

SUMMARY — Lady Galadriel keeps convincing Halbrand and his wife to change their minds and go back to Middle-earth but Sauron is starting to realise that this new life might be his chance to start all over and redeem himself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As I warned, in this part Sauron is very ooc but I'm a sucker for happy endings... I couldn't picture it any other way with a mortal Reader tbh... 🤷🏻‍♀️ Although, whether she is really a human or not – I let you decide and interpret it whatever way you wish! 😉💝 The song The Reader sings in this part is called Lonesome Road and I know it from Joan Baez but I changed the lyrics a little so they could fit the fantasy world better.

WORD COUNT — 4,570

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

Even though he thought Halbrand's wife had given up on him already, it seemed to be quite otherwise. The guards came to Sauron in the early morning to tell him that he was free to go under a condition to never start any fight on the streets of Númenor ever again. Next time, the Queen Regent would not be so merciful. And now, she would even give him a chance to prove his worth and earn the guild crest.

Apparently, (Y/N) had spent nearly the whole night begging and pleading after getting an audience.

Free to go anywhere he wanted to, he simply decided to walk back to his new home and wait there for Lady Galadriel to show up with the next idea or opportunity.

It was not going according to his plan – (Y/N) had made sure of it. But it was still going well enough and that was what mattered the most.

As he was approaching the house, he heard a familiar voice singing a song as the sound travelled through the open windows and out into the streets. The voice perhaps was not the most talented but it was not awful either and he found it oddly soothing to listen to.

Slowly and quietly, Sauron walked inside the house and leaned on the wall with crossed arms as he watched (Y/N) with a smirk. She had her back turned on him and had no idea he was there as she busied herself with brushing her hair in front of a small mirror and preparing to go to her new work.

And while doing so, she was singing. Sauron listened with curiosity because he had missed many new songs in the time when he had been regaining his strength to go back to the world of living.

And he had never been familiar with the songs of common people anyway.

“They say all good friends must part sometime. Why not you and I, my Lord? Why not you and I?” (Y/N) sang softly. “Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never been born or died when I was a baby, my Lord… Or died when I was a baby,” she added and Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat.

He had no idea he would be able to see himself in a song written by commoners and yet, he sometimes wondered himself why the Valar had created him. And he often wished they had not. It would save him pain and suffering that he was not able to speak of.

“Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never seen your face, heard your lyin' tongue, my Lord… Heard your lyin' tongue,” (Y/N) kept going with the song as she put some rouge upon her cheeks. “You better look up and down that long, lonesome road where all of your friends have gone, my Lord, and you and I must go…” she continued humming and then she jumped up at the sight of him standing behind her with crossed arms. “Oi, Hal, I haven't seen ye. Forgive me, I know ye don't like it when I sing,” she got nervous in an instant.

“I don't?” Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Ye always say it's givin' ye headaches,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Anyhow, I'm off to work now,” she informed him with a sweet smile and approached him to place a kiss upon his cheek.

He let her but when she wanted to move away, he grabbed her wrists to keep her in place and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What have you done to free me, love?” He asked in a whisper.

“I begged and pleaded for ye, Hal,” she answered. “Told the good Queen ye're naught but a man who wants to work, with a pride that's hurt. I promised ye wouldn't get in trouble again. An' ye better not.” (Y/N)'s eyes filled with pain as if she knew already he would break the promise.

Because Halbrand most likely had broken such promises many times before and Sauron had planned that, too. But now, looking deep into her eyes, he suddenly wanted to change his mind. He did not want to be like Halbrand – he wanted to be a better version of him.

“I don't deserve you,” he admitted and caressed her cheek gently.

“Start, then,” she challenged him with a cracked smile and patted his chest before going out of the house.

And even though Sauron was tempted to stay inside and wait for Lady Galadriel to show up, he walked out as well and went to the forge nearby where he was supposed to start his own training to be able to earn the guild crest.

Humiliating it was and very humbling for the disciple of Aulë to be reduced to the role of a common smith's errand boy.

When Sauron was coming back from work, it was getting dark already. He was walking slowly down the steps and whistling the very same song he had heard earlier that day – the one Halbrand's wife had been singing.

In his hands he was carrying a few coins he had earned on that day and he was playing with them by tossing them in the air and catching them swiftly right after. As he approached the harbour, he spotted (Y/N) standing by one of the wooden tables and selling the goods to the people standing in the queue.

He wondered why she was left alone by the stand but assumed the woman working with her was having a break. And the closer to the market he was getting, the more he could see how stressed Halbrand's wife seemed to be.

“You useless woman, you can't even count properly, can you?!” Sauron heard some man's harsh words due to the fact his hearing was much better than if he was truly human.

“I-I'm sorry, I'm still learnin'. How much do I owe ye, then?” (Y/N) was trying to sound nice.

“You're good for nothing, stupid wench,” the man spat out. “Where is Bellona?”

“She had to leave earlier today. Please, it is no big deal. Let me just give you back the money and–”

“You should go back to Middle-earth where low women like you belong,” the man interrupted her.

Sauron didn't think much in that moment as the primal instincts took over him. He hid his coins away and hurried to (Y/N)'s stand as he grabbed the rude man by his tunic and turned him around.

“Are you bothering my wife?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hal!” (Y/N) squealed, looking nervously at the guards that were already coming their way after sensing trouble. “Let go of him, I beg ye! Ye promised me ye wouldn't–”

“Oh, but it's different, is it not? This man deserves it,” Sauron hissed out and when he was sure that (Y/N) kept glancing at the guards, he allowed his eyes to transform into two snake-like orbs that visibly terrified the rude man.

Sauron let go of his tunic the moment he heard the guards standing behind him and the man hurried away as quickly as possible.

“It's nothin', it's nothin'!” (Y/N) exclaimed at the guards. “I'm closin' for the day! Please, let us go.”

The men looked at each other but since the other man had run away and did not file any complaint, they just shrugged their arms and walked away alongside the rest of the people waiting in the queue.

“Ye promised!” (Y/N) gave Sauron a very scolding look as she busied herself with tidying up the stand and collecting the money.

“If you think I am going to let some bastard treat you this way, love, then you are mistaken. If I must rot in that cell for a lifetime, then I shall,” Sauron shrugged his arms and Halbrand's wife looked at him as if he had just said something crazy.

“Since when are ye so gifted with words, Hal?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyhow, in that cell, ye won't be 'round to protect me. Foolish, it'd be, but ye've never been the brightest, have ye?” she pointed out and Sauron gritted his teeth with an eye roll.

She kept blabbering to him about her day while they walked back to their house and even though it was a short road, it felt like forever due to her talking. However, Sauron was very surprised at the sight of Lady Galadriel sitting by the table when they entered the house.

He had been waiting for her to come and now he was shocked, nearly startled. As if he had forgotten already about his scheme.

“Oi!” (Y/N) put her hands on her hips. “Is it not illegal to sneak up on folk like that inside their own homes, Elf?!” She asked. “When'll ye leave us be, huh?”

“The Queen Regent agreed to gather the army. They will seek for the volunteers,” Galadriel announced. “People of Númenor might not need you, Halbrand, but when we arrive in The Southlands, a strong leader will be needed. Someone to unite and show the way.”

“Someone to lie, ye say,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and finally closed the door behind her. “But go on, Elf, keep talkin'. I'm sure my husband'll agree sooner or later. Vain as he is, always has been,” she sighed as if she was defeated.

Sauron felt an odd tug inside his heart at those words. Even though going with Galadriel to Middle-earth and continuing his plan while leaving annoying (Y/N) behind would be an ideal outcome… He felt challenged now to refuse Galadriel just to show (Y/N) that he could do better than that.

“I have already told the Queen Regent who you most likely are,” Galadriel insisted, ignoring Halbrand's wife and looking deep into his eyes.

“You must be desperate,” he pointed out with a smirk and watched his angry wife unpacking the groceries from her wicker basket on the kitchen counter.

“Of course I am. And you should be, too. It is about your home. Why do you give up on it so easily?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It gave up on us long before we ever gave up on it,” (Y/N) turned around to answer her.

“This land was your place in Middle-earth. It was giving you vegetables to eat, grass to feed your animals with, clean water from the rivers…” Lady Galadriel pointed out.

“And what do ye know about it, grand Elf?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at that. “It ain't easy work growin' yer vegetables an' keepin' yer animals alive. One bad winter's all it takes to take away yer loved ones, yer cows, horses, an' chickens. I've no love for that land,” she stated, harshly.

“You can change the fate of people who suffer like you have suffered…” Galadriel's voice softened. “As their Queen,” she tempted and Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised to see how dirty she could play.

Nearly as dirty as him.

“Me? A Queen?” (Y/N) laughed at that. “I can't even read!” She only said and turned around again to deal with the groceries.

“Halbrand, please. They need you,” Galadriel stood up and put her hand on his shoulder before lowering her voice. “I need you,” she added and looked down before leaving the house quietly.

Long silence occurred between Sauron and Halbrand's wife.

“Go with her,” (Y/N) muttered.

“What?” Sauron looked at her, surprised. She turned around to lay her wet eyes on him.

“I know ye want to. Just go, claim the title that's not yours, go on. But don't be stupid enough to think she'd ever want ye the way ye want her. Please, husband, don't embarrass yerself by thinkin' she'd want a filthy, ragged commoner,” (Y/N) whispered but in her voice there was no malice – it was pure worry and concern. Love.

“I'm not that stupid,” Sauron approached her with hesitance and put his hands on her arms to comfort her. “I know you're the only woman who is crazy enough to love me.”

“But is that enough to make ye stay?” She asked and her lower lip trembled.

He did not answer but he pulled her close to his chest to wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her head.

Sauron was laying awake all night long as usual, caressing the back of Halbrand's wife and staring at the ceiling. He knew they would gather the volunteers on the next day and he still was not sure what to do.

The path he had chosen for himself was not so certain anymore. He truly did not mind the life he had here in Númenor and even (Y/N)'s presence was becoming less and less annoying to him. In fact – even though she had no idea who he truly was – it felt oddly nice to be loved and taken care of. As simple as that.

He extended his hand to the nightstand and brushed the pendant laying there with his fingertips as he remembered the very first conversation he had had with the heraldry's original owner – Diarmid.

“A sure path may crumble, but there's always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there's a place across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life.”

What if it was a second chance for him? Not for Sauron, but for the real him – Mairon…? What if it was his chance to get redeemed? To be at peace finally as if all the suffering Morgoth had put him through had never taken place?

(Y/N) shifted slightly in his arms and he looked down at her face that was now lit up by the first rays of the rising sun getting through the window. At that moment, that common and simple woman looked like the most beautiful creature in the whole world to him. And she certainly felt like peace.

“Is it time to wake up now, love?” She mumbled out, sleepily.

“No, love, not yet. I will tell you when,” he assured her.

“Good,” she smiled and nuzzled her face deeper into him.

“(Y/N)?” Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat as he fidgeted with the pendant between his fingers.

“Hm?”

“What if I told you I was not your husband?” He tried to make it sound light-hearted as if he was jesting. “That I'm a spirit that took over his body at that time when he was away while the village was being attacked?” He looked down at her, nervously.

“Ye're crazy, Hal,” she chuckled and opened her eyes lazily. Then, she tilted her head and reached her hand up to caress his hair. “But, mayhaps, I'd believe that, ye know? 'Cause ye've changed a lot since then,” she admitted and hesitated for a moment as she bit on her lower lip. “It doesn't matter, love. I love ye the way ye are now – more than I've ever loved ye, even though I didn't think it was possible,” she confessed and Sauron felt his heart swelling inside his chest as he leaned down to join their lips together in a loving kiss.

As he watched the ships sail away on that day, Sauron couldn't believe that he was simply letting them go. He saw Lady Galadriel standing in her shining armour, holding her sword. She was still glancing at him as if she expected him to jump into the waters and join them no matter what.

He wondered why she was so drawn to him, even after (Y/N)'s big mouth had made it clear that he was not any forgotten king. Could Galadriel feel who he was, deep inside?

But who was he? He was not sure anymore.

So, he looked away and went back on the road that would lead him to the forge where he worked these days. He was told he would get his guild crest very soon because they were in awe of his extraordinary talents.

Not only talent was his quality, though. It was also how much he was able to work at once and without breaks. At least it had been this way until recently.

It was the first time ever when he felt… tired. In the simplest and most common way, he felt exhausted and his stomach seemed to demand to have a meal. He nearly fainted at the end of his shift and when he dragged his feet back home, he was yawning. Surely, it would worry him under any other circumstances but now he was simply too tired to overthink what could have caused it. Was it some sort of a curse put on him by angry Lady Galadriel?

“Halbrand!” (Y/N)'s worried tone brought him back to reality when he entered the house.

She hurried to him and cupped his cheeks with widened eyes.

“Love, ye're so pale, an' the bags under yer eyes… What happened?!”

“Nothing happened,” Sauron shrugged his arms. “I'm just tired, that's it. I nearly fainted,” he admitted and sat down on the chair, sighing out of relief to finally be able to rest a little.

“Well, that's no wonder! Ye've been eatin' half meals for weeks now!” Halbrand's wife pointed out in a scolding manner. “We're not starvin' anymore, Hal, ye don't have to keep givin' me yer portions!” She exclaimed and approached the stove to pour him a bowl full of soup. “Here, eat,” she ordered as she placed it in front of him.

And, for some reason, Sauron ate all of it in a blink of an eye. He even asked for one more portion as Halbrand's wife gave it to him gladly but not without more of her whining about him being irresponsible. Then he asked for another and after three bowls of her soup, he finally felt better.

His stomach was no longer hurting at least, but he was still sleepy.

“Go, take some rest, love,” (Y/N) shook her head. “Ye don't sleep enough, don't eat enough. At least ye're not drinkin' and gamblin' anymore, but ye can't go on like this. Do ye want to die before forty, Hal? I ain't lettin' that happen!” She continued with her usual whining and he rolled his eyes.

“How can I rest when you keep your mouth open?!” Sauron asked and she huffed but she went silent and left him alone in the bedroom as she went back to the kitchen to clean the bowl after his soup.

It was the very first time when Sauron fell asleep not out of boredom or the need of dissociation but out of exhaustion.

And when he opened his eyes again, it was the next morning already and (Y/N) was shaking him to wake him up.

“Halbrand! Ye're gonna be late for work!” She exclaimed.

“But… I'm still tired…” He mumbled out, not understanding what was happening to him.

“Like all of us working folk each mornin'!” (Y/N) laughed. “Come on, I'm not lettin' ye out without breakfast, go to the kitchen,” she hurried him and he rubbed his eyes before nodding at her.

Sauron began to suspect that he was turning into a human for some time now but it took an unusual revelation to convince him that it was truly happening indeed.

(Y/N) was grinning widely on that day when he came back home and she welcomed him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him all over his face as he tried to give back some of the kisses. When she finally stopped, she fixed his brand new guild crest and batted her eyelashes while looking up to stare into his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I think I'm expectin', Hal,” she told him, excitedly. “I wasn't sure but my friends at work said those are the very symptoms!” She added happily and he froze as he blinked slowly a few times, trying to process the new information.

“That is… Impossible,” he furrowed his brows.

“I used to think so, too. Married for so long with no babe of our own but I was wishin' and hopin' and here we are!” She clapped her hands like an excited child. “Perhaps it was that damned Middle-earth not being good for us, Hal, but here we can!”

Sauron took a deep breath in. She didn't understand – it was not about being fertile or not. It was about the fact he was a Maia and there was no possibility of him putting a baby in her without doing it with his own free will.

Unless…

“You're not sleeping around, are you?” He asked before he could think about the rubbish leaving his mouth.

(Y/N) froze at his words and her smile turned into a frown. She approached him at this very moment and slapped his face. Hard. He could feel it like any mortal would now and he admitted it truly hurt.

“How dare ye, Halbrand?! Ye wretched bastard! Even if ye meant to jest, that was uncalled for!” She raised her voice as he rubbed his cheek and winced out of pain.

“I'm sorry, love, I haven't thought before speaking. I just can't believe it…” He tried to excuse himself. “Please, forgive me.”

Her face didn't look so angry anymore but she didn't say anything and turned around without a word to walk away.

In fact, she didn't say a word to him for the rest of the day and only at night when she was deep asleep, he dared to touch her abdomen slightly with his hand.

He wasn't able to feel any presence there but these days he couldn't feel anything, to be honest. He couldn't hear nor see as much either. He was losing his abilities as time was passing.

Sauron kept his hand there, on the belly of Halbrand's wife, and he sighed. It was happening, whether he liked it or not. And he was not even sure anymore if he wanted it or not.

As he got lost in the train of thought, he realised that he had been caressing (Y/N) abdomen all that time without thinking. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled gently at him.

“Hal, ye son of a bitch,” she shook her head and giggled as she took his hand carefully and brought it to her lips to place a few small and sweet kisses upon his knuckles. “I swear, ye're gonna be the death of me.”

“And you are going to be the death of me,” he chuckled and leaned in to peck her lips.

She was going to be. Literally.

This body would start growing old normally now and, eventually, he would pass away like every mortal. But maybe he would do that laying in a bed, holding her hand and surrounded by their children.

When they broke the kiss, (Y/N) smiled widely and caressed her husband's cheeks lovingly. She looked ethereal at that moment and a crazy thought appeared inside of his head.

“Tell me, love,” he started and she raised an eyebrow at him, “are you a spirit sent to me from Valinor to lead me back on the right path? Have I passed the test?” He dared to ask and he could swear, there was a small sparkle lighting up her eyes for a short while. But then, she only laughed.

“Go back to sleep, ye madman,” she patted his chest lightly and turned around while laughing softly.

He kept staring at her for some time more, then he went back to looking at the ceiling. And, eventually, he turned around as well to wrap his arm around the waist of Halbrand's wife.

His wife.

Halbrand was coming back from work slowly while playing with the little horse forged out of iron in his hand as he hummed a song. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon when he approached the harbour where (Y/N) was slowly tidying up her stand on the market.

Her own one, that she had earned finally and was so proud of it as she was working for herself now and was able to bring more money home.

He watched her tidy up with a loving smile and their son was helping her while talking to her excitedly about something – his mouth would never close just like his mother's.

“Daddy!” He spotted him finally and ran up to him as (Y/N) chuckled.

“Hey, little man,” Halbrand crouched down to give his son a hug. “How was your day?”

“It was good!” The boy nodded. “I helped mummy a bit. And yours, daddy?”

“I made this for you,” Halbrand handed him the little horse and the boys' eyes sparkled at the sight.

“So pretty! Thank you, daddy!” He wrapped his little arms around Halbrand's neck to give him another hug and Halbrand patted his back.

“And for me?! For me?!” He felt something tugging at his tunic and he laughed at the sight of his excited daughter. He gave her a hug, too and caressed her ruffled hair as she gave him a toothless smile.

“I have something for you, too, Princess,” Halbrand assured her and took another item out of his pocket – a seashell made out of iron.

He had made sure it was crafted with the best precision and with all the tiny details, therefore it looked nearly like a real seashell. Only it was silver, which made it even better in his little girl's eyes.

“Thank you, daddy!” She giggled as she squinted her eyes at the shell and kept examining it under every possible angle.

“You spoil 'em way too much!” (Y/N) stood above him and he stood up to greet her with a short peck on the cheek.

“Somebody has to,” Halbrand answered playfully and his wife shot him a glance, which made his son giggle.

“Stop sayin' nonsense and let's go back home,” she shook her head and walked away slowly.

He watched his children follow her happily and he did, too, but much slower as he stared at the sun setting on the horizon. The sky looked like a canva full of pink and orange hues and he took a deep breath in at the beauty of it.

It was nearly as peaceful and beautiful as back in the day in Valinor. Mortals perhaps were not welcome there but, apparently, they could also experience wonders as marvellous.

And perhaps this whole life was built on a lie because he couldn't imagine telling (Y/N) the truth about who he truly was and that her real husband had been dead for years. That he had died because of gambling and drinking after leaving her alone when she was being attacked by the Orcs. There was no point in telling her even if she would somehow believe him. It would only bring her useless pain and he knew very well that her actual husband would most likely never do all these things he had done to make her happy. He would not love her right like he could.

“Ye comin', Hal?” His wife's voice brought him back to reality.

Halbrand nodded at her and joined her side to take his daughter by her little hand.

After all, it was not the sunset but her and her brother that were the real wonders. And it was not Númenor that he called home but it was them – they were his better place.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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adonneniel · 23 hours ago

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Ok, nevermind, I am going to try and put my complicated thoughts on paper.

So, about Dragon Age elves being intentionally inspired by Jews.

Like, on one hand they’ll always hold a special place in my heart because when do Jews *ever* get to be portrayed as elegant and mystical and beautiful? Even if modern DA elves are a fallen, oppressed people, those vibes are still present. And even if it’s not always handled well, the struggle between the more assimilated city elves and the more traditionally minded Dalish is very real. The longing for a lost homeland. The ache and resentment and fear that nothing is stable & people could turn on a dime. The isolationist tendencies that arise as a consequence of that. Perhaps prickly and defensive to outsiders, but loving and community-centered to their own.

In short, it resonates, and I always felt like I had room to roleplay and embrace these concepts, particularly in the older games.

Tbh even the Dalish clans always on the verge of dying felt real. Perhaps too real. And I think the main problem (for me), was that it was never treated with the gravity and respect it should’ve been. The characters shrug and move on.

Even Davrin’s distaste for his people’s focus on the past doesn’t bother me. Because not only do people like that exist, they still made him unapologetically Dalish (he even named his gryphon Assan! An elvish word!) It’s obvious he still cares deeply about elves, and he was the only one who consistently expressed concern for modern elves when the topic came up. If they’d handled the rest of the elves in the game better (which I’ll expand on in a second), I think he’d actually serve as a great constrast to Bellara.

But then we get to the Evanuris, constant victim blaming, and the inexplicable white-guilt projecting the writers added in Veilguard. (And that last one stings because minorities are never treated as individuals—a bad apple is always turned into a representive of the collective.)

Choosing to make the Evanuris the root of Thedas’ woes might be a neat twist in isolation, but it’s *not* in isolation. Not when Jews are at the center of every conspiracy theory and often painted as this nebulous, shadowy cabal controlling society for their own nefarious means. And to then have the gall to paint *all* modern elves with this brush? As if they’re responsible for a few shitheads that existed thousands of years in the past (that also happened to enslave them). As if they’re somehow complicit when past games have made it abundantly clear that elves are treated like trash with ZERO institutional power? (And Veilguard conveniently brushes this under the rug).

It’d be one thing to make Bellara apologize—because it’s kinda in character—but there’s no meaningful pushback. And elf!Rook has at least three opportunities to spout those same bullshit white-guilt apologies. Tbh, it soured me to Harding’s entire questline.

And the distressing reality that the Evanuris might make people even more distrustful and violent towards elves? It’s practically framed as a *new* fear. Which is utterly ridiculous when even an elven Inquisitor can state that people will always find a way to blame elves (with an appropriately resigned anger)

And going back to Bellara, I hate hate hate that her questline almost encourages us to throw away the Archive, as if this monumental resource is selfish to want to preserve? And why do we get to make this choice? Rook might not even be a elf! It’s similar to the framing of Merrill’s quest to restore the eluvian, but at least Merrill fights tooth and nail for it. Why is the desire to reclaim and discover lost knowledge always presented as stupid and dangerous?

One last thing: Epler said they were trying to give the Dalish a win in Veilguard, and I assume baking in a “save the Dalish!” quest was an attempt to make up for the potiential massacres in past games, but, uh…it failed imo. How is it a “win” to make them nothing more than poor little props for the Big Hero to swoop in and save? They have no agency. They’re shown no respect. We don’t even get to talk to them!

Anyway, I’ve seen some excellent takes on the anti-indigenous racism baked into the elves, but not one from a Jewish perspective. So here’s me, a Jew, venting about a series that’s somehow still near and dear to my heart, and probably always will be, despite the racism and antisemitism. (Though whether I’ll replay datv or buy any future games is up in the air. Right now veilguard feels like the last straw—the mediocre writing failed to make up for the highly questionable & infurating choices made).

#dragon age #datv #datv spoilers #datv critical #bioware critical #rae speaks

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otomehoneyybearr · 2 days ago

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Kagari Amagase

Things I can Only Do With You at Night: Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Card

When I had finally started getting used to life in Kogyoku, where I’d come for a bookstore restock trip—

Child 1: "Yaaah— Whoa!?"

Kagari: "Too much wasted movement."

Child 2: "You’re wide open— Ugh!"

Kagari: "The one with an opening is you."

Child 3: "Got you— Gah!?"

Kagari: "Your grip is too weak."

(Wow… he’s merciless.)

At a dojo in the neighboring town, Prince Kagari was giving the children a lesson in swordsmanship.

The kids charged at him all at once, swinging their bamboo swords, but Prince Kagari dodged them with ease, his expression unwavering.

He blocked an attack from behind without even looking, sweeping the child’s legs out from under them, and used his hands to grab the hilt of their sword to throw

It was almost like a game, as one after another, the children rolled across the floor.

(He's even being mindful to make sure they don't bump into each other... It's like he has eyes on the back of his head.) ●●●●●● Flashback ●●●●●●

Kagari: “Well, fancy seeing you here, princess. Out on your own?"

Kagari: "Me? I’m on my way to teach swordsmanship to the kids at the dojo."

Kagari: "……Want to come along?"

●●●●●● Flashback End ●●●●●●

(I guess it was good thing I decided to take a walk around the town.)

Despite the intense training, the children didn’t seem to lose their motivation. In fact, their determination seemed to grow stronger.

I couldn't take my eyes off Prince Kagari, admiring how his guidance drew such spirit out of them.

After the training session ended, Prince Kagari sat cross-legged next to me, his face as composed as ever.

Emma: "Great work. Would you like some water?"

Kagari: "No, I’m fine. I was just playing with kittens, after all."

(He dealt with a dozen kids at once and calls it playing… He really is amazing.)

Kagari: "You were watching pretty intently. Was the training that unusual?"

As Prince Kagari propped his chin on his hand, looking at me, I nodded in response.

Emma: "It’s my first time seeing something like that up close. In my country, it’s rare for so many children to be trained in swordsmanship."

Kagari: "Is that so? Here in Kogyoku, there are kendo dojos in every town, so there are plenty of opportunities to learn."

Kagari: "Children are taught to wield a sword and protect themselves from a young age. You could call it a compulsory skill."

(In a war-torn country like Kogyoku, it's commonplace for everyone to carry weapons, regardless of age or gender...)

The children who had been practicing earlier were now running around the dojo, laughing and playing.

(For those kids, dedicating themselves to sword training is not just about pursuing their dreams of becoming warriors,) (But also about protecting themselves and their loved ones from the dangers that threaten their lives.)

Learning this through today’s session, I felt my chest tighten as I reflected on the differences between this country and the one I grew up in.

Emma: "Do you often teach the children, Prince Kagari?"

Kagari: "I usually leave it to my subordinates, but I teach whenever I can make time."

(That makes sense. Prince Kagari is the commander of his unit and a key figure in this region’s defense. It must be hard to find time for things like this.)

I felt lucky to have seen Prince Kagari teaching the children today.

At that moment, several children came over, their eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Child 1: "Teacher, is she your girlfriend?"

Kagari: "No."

Child 2: "Aww, really? You've never brought a woman with you before, so we thought maybe—"

Child 3: "I told you! Teacher only cares about dorayaki and swords!"

Child 2: "Are you seriously planning to stay single forever, Teacher? Or are you marrying a dorayaki?"

Kagari: "Most people die alone anyway. It’s best to remember that."

Kagari: "You all seem to have a lot of energy. Want to go for another set of practice? I’d be happy to oblige."

Children: "Noooo! Teacher, you’re a demon!"

Kagari: "Before that, shouldn’t you greet our guest first?"

Children: "Hello!"

Emma: "H-hello."

Kagari: "Good. Never forget to greet others, no matter the situation."

Children: "Okay!"

(The must feel comfortable around him to speak so freely like this.)

(Still… being mistaken for Prince Kagari’s girlfriend…)

I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed at the misunderstanding.

Child 2: "If she’s not your girlfriend, then why’d you bring her here?"

Kagari: "She seemed interested in joining the training, so I invited her."

Emma: "Was that it?"

Kagari: "Yeah.

Kagari: You’re easy to read. That’s something I’ve learned about you."

(Prince Kagari notices everything... It's kind of intimidating but also reassuring.)

Trying to hide a growing smile, I casually covered my mouth with my hand.

Child 1: "Aww, if you were his girlfriend, we could have teased you two during the festival."

Emma: "A festival? There’s a festival happening?"

(Now that they mention it… the streets have felt livelier over the past few days.)

Kagari: "You didn’t know? This town is holding a festival soon."

Kagari: "It’s not a huge one, but there will be fireworks."

Emma: "Really? I’ve never been to a festival in Kogyoku before."

Kagari: "…Is that so? This will be your first, then."

Child 1: "Hey, hey! My family runs a sweets shop, and we’re putting up a stall at the festival!"

Child 3: "The sakura manju are the best. The skin is so chewy, and they taste amazing!"

Child 1: "We’re working super hard to prepare, so Teacher, you and the lady should come check it out!"

Emma: "Sure, I’ll definitely come!"

Child 1: "Yes! One more customer secured!"

Though I agreed in the moment, I was already filled with excitement at the idea of going to the festival. My mind began to fill with images of colorful food stalls lined up in the streets.

(The owner said there would be stalls here that can’t be found in Rhodolite.)

(I hope I’ll be able to see and experience everything during my first foreign festival.)

As I let my imagination run wild like a child, I felt a steady gaze from beside me, sharp yet unreadable.

Emma: "Um… Is something wrong, Prince Kagari?"

Kagari: "No, nothing."

(He says that, but why won’t he look away?)

(Come to think of it… I wonder if Prince Kagari plans to go to the festival.)

Kagari: "…"

Kagari: "………"

Emma: "……..……"

(……This is so unsettling.)

After the children had left, I left the dojo with Prince Kagari.

As the sound of our footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as we walked side by side, I felt his gaze constantly fixed on me.

(Maybe he wants to say something… Hmm, but I can’t figure out what it could be.)

Kagari: "Princess."

Emma: "Ah! Y-Yes? What is it?"

He suddenly leaned in closer, his sharp features coming near, and I reflexively leaned back.

Kagari: "Among all the regions in Kogyoku, my territory is relatively the safest. It even attracts a fair number of tourists."

Kagari: "Even if this festival is small in scale, it has more liveliness and entertainment than festivals in other territories."

Emma: "I see. That makes me even more excited for the day to come."

(…Why is he suddenly promoting the festival?)

Kagari: "But for someone coming from another country with no familiarity with the area, it might be hard to fully enjoy the festival."

Kagari: "So, that's why—"

(Could this be… No way…)

A different kind of anticipation stirred in my chest, making me unusually nervous.

With a composed yet serious demeanor, Prince Kagari fixed his gaze on me and—

▼・ᴥ・▼

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri translations #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri kagari #kagari amagase #a3! translation

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neuroticbookworm · 3 days ago

Note

Hello! For the character breakdown. Jae Yeong - Semantic Error. Have a good night! Rose💜

Rose! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to simp for this man on main.

Look at him, bein’ all delicious lookin’

How I feel about this character

Let’s get this out of the way: I desire him carnally, and I also fully support his carnal desire towards Sangwoo. I’m sophisticated like that!

I went into Semantic Error ready to rip out the group project slacker’s gizzards. I’ve been in Sangwoo’s position one too many times and I was primed to hate Jaeyoung with my entire being. But he earned my respect so quick by dedicating the entire rest of his semester to activities that will drive his enemy to madness. I am a passionate hater at my core, and I recognize his game. And then, when he decided he wanted to woo Sangwoo, my man ditched his head-to-toe tteokbokki cosplay, and donned his suave leather jacket and his all-black fits. He introduced spontaneity into Sangwoo’s routine, but backed off when Sangwoo actually avoided him and angrily told him to leave him alone. He is just enough chaos combined with genuine care and attention to detail, all wrapped up in a smoking hot face and body. I need to move on before I start drooling.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Me. And Sangwoo. End of list.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

The friendship between Choi Yuna and Jang Jaeyoung consists of 40% spending time together, eating together, helping with a move, saving seats, and so on, 30% roasting the shit out of each other’s existence, and 30% her whacking his stupid yet gorgeous face for his stupidity. The ratio is just so perfect and I am extremely envious of their friendship.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I really believe that Jaeyoung tried his best to find Sangwoo, explain his case, and correct the record before going the Annoy Him Into Submission route. And the reason why his mission was so successful was because he was such a competent annoyer. He had observed Sangwoo’s everyday activities so well that he was able to successfully disrupt every single aspect of his day. That takes dedication and a level of interest that can’t just be explained away with a “oh I hate the guy”. And he never really broke any rules and crossed any boundaries! That’s why Sangwoo found the disruptions so hard to deal with: Jaeyoung took his time to do research and covered all his bases for maximum annoyance. And it worked like a charm.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

He should’ve worn all-black fits in more scenes. For research.

Give me a character ask game

#he had bewitched me mind body and soul by being a menace #semantic error #korean bl #ask game #bookworm answers

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wholelottaprompts · 2 days ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 Emails I Can't Send Prompts ᡣ𐭩

from the album Emails I Can't Send, by Sabrina Carpenter

"And I still make excuses for you constantly."

"Sorry that I pulled the 'it's not you, it's me.'"

"You're not my friend, and baby, you never were."

"It's times like these I wish I had a time machine."

"Whatever, you're a waste of time."

“Oh, so you do have a type."

"Where else can we go?"

"I hate the way you left me dry."

"Give me a second to forget I ever really meant it."

"Don't say sorry now."

"One day, I'll make sure you get a real apology."

"I tried to look for the best in the worst."

"Oh, so you can reply."

"I'm so tired."

"You want me? I'm done."

"I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me."

"You're lucky I'm a private person."

"I'm over that son of a bitch."

"Don't make me cuss you out."

"You're so vicious."

"Nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks I'm fucking rude."

"Why were you somewhere else when you were next to me?"

"I can't help it, it's a habit."

"You act like a bitch."

"I never saw him and we never kissed."

"There's nothing left here to decode."

"Were you lying to me and the family?"

"If you wanted brown eyes, I could have got contacts."

"You don't feel remorse."

"That never made too much sense to me."

"I can't read your mind."

"Why'd you let me down?"

"You knew I would see that."

"Looking at you got me thinking nonsense."

"Bet you wanna love me now."

"How do you do this to me?"

"Tell me what's gonna happen."

"You knew I would notice."

"I'll drive you home."

"I don't even know, I'm talking nonsense."

"I want you there sometimes."

"She looks nothing like me."

"Your signals are mixed."

"Everything reminds me of you."

"I know you know it keeps me up."

"You drive me crazy."

"Chase me."

"Did you even give a fuck?"

"You disgust me."

"Now I'm a homewrecker. I'm a slut."

"Tell me I was more than just a decent opportunity."

"Why do you look so happy?"

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thanks to you, I can't love right."

"I know now even if I tried to change that somehow, you'd end up with her anyway."

"You fit every stereotype."

"Does she step out of the spotlight so you bathe in it?"

"Now I can't even look at you."

"You said I'm too late to be your first love, but I'll always be your favorite."

"I know what you're about to say."

"Does she get up on top of you more than I would?"

"He had it coming."

"I deserve my own consideration."

"I look up from my phone and think there's no chance it's you, but it is."

"He's good for my heart, but he's bad for business."

"I've got death threats filling up semi trucks."

"How am I supposed to close the door when I still need the closure?"

"All my friends think I've gone crazy."

"I care, but I don't."

"Please fucking fix this."

"Tell me that you miss me in your life."

"It feels so good not caring where you are tonight."

"You were all I looked up to."

"Was I being lied to?"

"I got ways to find you anywhere."

"You miss me? No duh."

"Maybe we should do this on purpose sometime."

"It was all so innocent."

"What the fuck is patience?"

"I can't even stomach loving someone else."

"God, I love you, but you're such a dipshit."

"You're good at impersonating someone who cares."

"I bet your house is where my other sock is."

#feel free to change the pronouns!#sabrina carpenter #emails i can't send #song prompts #lyric prompts #love prompts #breakup prompts #angst prompts

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ethicaltreatmentofcowplants · 1 day ago

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transcript + more info

berenice: aha! she'll never find me here watcher: you mean 'here'? "in moonwood mill, my most favouritist of worlds 'here'?" berenice: ahhhh! i mean, i didn't do it? i've been framed. it was the full autonomy, i swear... watcher: did you just sign up for deanna's bachelorette? berenice: maybe... yes? watcher: do you even *like* other women? berenice: i like other women! i have other women... friends?? watcher: *SIGH* watcher: berenice, this kind of stuff just doesn't happen in real life berenice: what kind of stuff? watcher: he will never like you back like that berenice: he? who's he??? watcher: don't be obtuse, i can see your moodlets berenice: well this isn't real life because i'm a pixel! silly you, watcher...

BERENICE "BERNIE" SMALLS

Young Adult • Ciswoman (she/her) • Physics Major (incoming senior)

TRAITS: genius, overachiever, cringe, paranoid, socially awkward, creative (bonuses: mentally gifted, always welcome, morning sim, night sim, storm chaser)

MISC: Valedictorian and championship chess captain at Copperdale. Actually wants to catch lightning in a bottle someday.

(This is a mischief interaction. She's not evil - just a disaster.)

By day she’s a straight A student, freelance programmer and budding Plopsy empire builder - and a shoe-in for valedictorian to the point where most would happily bet their own mother’s mortgage on it (yeah, please don’t actually do that).

By night, however? A cheater cheater pumpkin eater! Well, not quite (the pumpkin eating allegations however are indeed true).

Her secret? She’s a spellcaster. Her other secret? Plentiful needs potions - and lots of ‘em.

Yes, you too could manage the highest GPA in the school plus every extracurricular that didn't throw you out on your rear end (she and that dungeon master still aren’t on speaking terms), tutoring, plus a fulltime job and another part-time job, had you the equivalent of 24 usable hours in every day.

Obviously this isn’t illegal, as the greater pixel world doesn’t know about spellcasters (see: my legacy heir who still freaks out over her spellcaster husband, brother and her three children). And there’s nothing stopping anyone from washing down caffeine pills with red bull that doesn’t actually give you wings (though Berenice could attempt a potion for that). Aaaand it could be argued that werewolves who can recharge extremely quickly with a wolf nap and vampires who don’t need to sleep at all should not occult their way through Foxbury's hallowed halls.

But there’s a difference between being thought of as just that amazing, and being thought of as significantly less amazing, because any fool believes that they can achieve what Berenice does with all that extra time she has.

Why is she entering this competition? A very good question. Well, it may be called ‘Dating Deanna,’ but this dumb smart girl has a completely different York in mind. Namely Deanna’s brother Joey, who she’s had a massive crush on ever since she met him one summer holiday in Tartosa.

"I've got this!" "I don't got this..."

She therefore signed up on a whim, and while hindsight is currently coming down on her like a tonne of bricks, she’s too obstinate to pull out now. Bernie Smalls, quit a thing? Never!

PERMISSIONS

All in - feel free to message me!

In terms of romance with other contestants, as she's a 'troll' concept have at it. Maybe not woohoo though since she's still trying to determine her sexuality.

She would be very open to flirting - and well, anything else with Joey. Will she get the opportunity? I highly doubt it but this experience can be a moment of growth for her 😆

(iou a sfs zip after dinner and other adulting!)

@changingplumbob's dating deanna bachelorette challenge (i am so sorry deanna)

#my sims #berenice smalls #my sims in other saves #dating deanna

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marcelloshdz · 3 days ago

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couples quiz

summary: you and marcello are the featured guests on the upcoming episode of the GQ "couples quiz." requested by anonymous. marcello x female!singer reader. this ended up being quite long, but i hope you enjoy! <3

“and there we go! you look stunning.” your makeup artist said to you.

“thanks to you.” you smiled at them. you were on set with GQ, getting ready to film a video with them. they’d invited you and marcello you partake in one of their “couples quiz” videos, and the two of you jumped at the opportunities.

you were led to the set, taking your seat as you waited for marcello to join you. he smiled at you has he walked over to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before taking his seat across from you.

“you guys ready?” the producer asked, and you both nodded.

“so ready.” you said with a smile, as some members from the crew handed you your question cards.

they counted down, and began rolling, you and marcello putting on your best faces and beginning the video.

“hey there, i’m y/n l/n,”

“and i’m marcello hernández,”

“and this is the GQ couples quiz.” you said in unison.

“alright, who wants to start?” you asked.

“ladies first.” marcello said with a smile.

“well then, alright.” you settled the question cards in your hands, reading him the first one. “okay, this is a simple one to get us started. what is my favorite nickname for you?” you asked.

“you call me cello a lot. or cellito, if you’re feeling flirtier than normal. but you’re also very heavy on the babe or baby. sometimes honey, which i personally love.”

“hmm, good to know.” you laughed before moving on to the next question. “oh, this is a good one. what was the first song i ever played for you?”

“i don’t want to give too much away, because as far as i know, it’s unreleased, yeah?” he asked, and you nodded.

“it is.”

“but, i can say that you wrote it shortly after we made it official. so, almost four years ago. and, it’s about me.” he said, with a smirk to the camera.

“that is correct. at this point, i’m not sure i wanna release it, and instead just keep it between the two of us.” you said to the camera. you then moved on to the next question. “what is my favorite date we’ve been on?”

“ooh, i know this one real well, because you tell this story all the time to people we meet.” he laughed, and you blushed. “it was when we were first dating, we were both in LA for work, and had coinciding days off. i took you to griffith park, we had a picnic, and we made friendship bracelets for each other with our initials on them. then, after lunch, we drove up mulholland, parked at one of the overlooks, and laid on the hood of our car while we watched the sunset over the city. it was very romantic. that was the night i asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“i never told you this, but i’m sure i was already falling in love with you at that point. it was only like, a month or so after we started hanging out and talking, but i was already locked in.”

“honestly, so was i.” marcello said, echoing your sentiment with a smile.

“next question; what is my favorite sketch of yours?”

“you always tell me you have multiple favorites, and they change like, every month.” he laughed before answering.

“that is true, but i do have one all time favorite. one that i, without question, would top tier marcello sketches. and we’re not talking update features, because i love all of those. just live sketches.” you explained.

“okay, that helps me a bit. i’m gonna go with either fusion scientist, or the age of discovery.” he said.

“it is fusion scientist, but i’m only gonna give you half a point because you hesitated.”

“aw man.” he laughed.

“although, i do also love the age of discovery. there’s something about fusion scientist that just always gets me. i had genuine tears in my eyes the first time i watched it, and am still bitter it was cut for time.” you clarified.

“that one was really fun to perform. it was so ridiculous and goofy, but i loved it.” he explained.

“and thats why i love it too.” you said. “alright, next question. oh, this is a good one; what is my favorite gift you’ve given me?” you finished the question, and watched his eyes flit to your hands, landing on your ring finger on your left hand. he reached out to you, and you placed your hand in his, smiling as he pressed a kiss to the ring.

“this right here.” he said as you held your hand out to the camera for a close up. “i got you that ring on our first anniversary. it’s our birthstones in a heart shaped setting.”

“not only is it my favorite gift you’ve given me, but i think it’s my favorite gift i’ve ever gotten, ever.” you said. you finished out your questions, tallying up marcello’s score. “alright, we are sitting at a nice round 20 points.” you said to the camera.

“well, good for me.” he said with a laugh. “alright, my turn. first up, what sports did i play growing up?” he asked you.

“soccer was your main sport, and you played it throughout high school and college. but you also played baseball, and dabbled in golf, and sometimes fishing?”

“wow. yes to all of those. um, i don’t think i want to play this game anymore.” he laughed.

“hey, we’re only one question in. don’t get too discouraged.”

“next question; who has been my favorite host to work with so far on snl?”

“either pedro or benito.” you answered, and he nodded. “those were really big episodes for you, and i know you had a good time getting to write and work on pretty good sketches during those episodes.”

“those were both really good, and i enjoyed them both a lot. but, if i had to pick, i would pick benito over pedro.”

“oh, tea.” you gasped through a laugh.

“only because of the age of discovery sketch. that sketch being entirely in spanish, and all the love we got on it, it made me really proud. pedro was also part of that episode, so that still counts.” he explained. “what is my favorite food?” he asked.

“anything cuban or dominican. chuletas, tostones, literally anything else. you’re very easy to please.” you answered immediately. “c’mon give me a challenge.”

“yeah i should’ve skipped that one.” he laughed. “next one. oh, here’s a good one. what was i wearing on our first date?”

“you were wearing a dark blue cardigan, over a white t-shirt, with blue jeans, and white sneakers.” you answered. “i had a picture of us from that night as my phone wallpaper for a long time, it’s practically burned into my brain at this point.” you said. “do you remember what i was wearing?” you asked him

“you were wearing a black, like, lacy top, with a white skirt and black platform loafers.”

“actually,”

“what?!” he said loudly, feigning offense.

“no, i’m just kidding. that was right.” you laughed.

“i was about to be so mad.” he laughed. “alright, next one; where was our first kiss?” he asked.

“our first kiss was on the beach in miami. you were home, visiting family and some friends. you asked if i wanted to come see you, and of course, being as down bad as i already was, i immediately jumped on a plane with zero hesitation. we had just finished lunch, and we were hanging out on the beach near where you grew up. we were sitting there in silence, listening to the waves crash on the shore, when we turned to each other, and we kissed. i remember it being really awkward, and us almost missing?”

“i do remember that as well.” he laughed. “but look at us now, so it must not have been too terrible.”

“it was a first kiss, so you kinda expect it to be awkward. but it was good in the long run.” you said, and marcello nodded, smiling at you. before continuing through the next couple of questions.

“alright, i think this is my last one.”

“and, not to brag, but i am only one point behind you.” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“well, then this will count for two points.” he said, clearing his throat. “which one of us made the first move?”

“you did.”

“wow, that was fast.”

“you did! we were at an snl after party, after dua lipa’s episode. which, i was invited to by her, by the way.” you said, matter-of-factly. “we were both at the bar, waiting for our drinks, and made small talk. we hung out for a bit, and by the end of the night, you were already asking for my number. barely two days later, you were asking me to go out.”

“and you accepted without hesitation.”

“well, yes, but this isn’t about me.” you teased, and marcello rolled his eyes at you.

“well, that was my last question. our final scores are 21 to 20, y/n only getting extra points because i played multiple sports growing up.”

“and for that, i thank you.” you laughed.

you filmed the outro for the video, saying good bye and thanking the future audience for watching. there was a loud “CUT!” from behind the camera, and the producers and crew were thanking you and marcello for such a fun episode.

“thanks for having us! this was a lot of fun.” marcello said, and you nodded in agreement. the two of you headed out to your car, making your way to a nearby restaurant for lunch. you got your food, and sat down at a table, replaying the events of the afternoon.

“we should do more things like that. i know we pride ourselves on having quite a private relationship, but it was a lot of fun.” marcello said to you.

“it was! but i feel like youre just suggesting that so you can redeem yourself and let the people know that you know me better than i know you.” you said to him.

“no, why would you ever think that?” he said sarcastically. you just laughed and shook your head. the two of you finished your lunch, enjoying your meal and being with each other. truthfully, marcello knew you better than you knew yourself, and vice versa. and that made you happier than you could ever put into words.

#marcello hernandez #marcello hernandez imagine #marcello hernandez imagines #marcello hernandez x reader #marcello hernandez x f reader #snl #saturday night live

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fictionalcharactersaremypassion · 2 days ago

Text

Liam and His Ickey

Set around s5 I guess

In the show, Liam doesn't really talk until he's older so he doesn't really say much here

4 +1

///

“Carl, don’t shovel it in like that, you’re going to burn your mouth,” Fiona frowns in disapproval. She’s made a big batch of potato soup for dinner, and honestly, it’s really fucking good. Mickey’s not used to home cooked meals. Him and his siblings are either eating what little is around the house or whatever they manage to steal.

“I’m hungry,” Carl says in between mouthfuls.

“Jesus,” Ian mutters.

It’s mostly quiet around the table. Debbie chatters about school and fucking Lip adds in a thing or two about his own life that Mickey couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about.

Even so, it’s kind of...nice he supposes, to sit around the table like this. Fuckin’ weird, but he’s never really had this. Back when his mom was around, they never ate together. She was always sprawled out on the couch, passed out and intoxicated.

Ian’s fingertips leave a ghostly trail on his leg. The electric current shoots up Mickey, leaves him tingling, and he flushes, hoping nobody else notices.

“Mmm,” Liam says suddenly. He looks up at Fiona with a toothy grin, soup around his mouth. “Mmm.”

She laughs. “It’s good, huh?”

He nods and mmms, again.

“Well, at least I have Liam’s approval,” she says to the rest of them humorously.

“He’s just trying to get on your good side,” Ian teases, “so you don’t give him a bath.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Fiona groans. “I think it’s my turn.”

“Glad it’s not mine,” Debbie says. “I hate doing it now. He splashes too much.”

“I don’t mind,” Carl pipes up now that he’s almost done with his bowl. “He makes it look like a waterpark in there.”

“Yeah, that’s just what we need,” Fiona deadpans.

Lip wipes his mouth, takes a drink of his beer. “I think Mickey should have a turn,” he says, and Ian and Mickey’s head swivel in his direction. “It’s only fair now that he’s living here.”

Fuckin’ asshole. Mickey glares at him.

“No fucking way.”

“Come on, Mick,” Lip must have a fucking death wish. “Haven’t you bathed a kid before?”

“Lip,” Ian says warningly.

“What? I’m just saying. We always rotate the chores.”

“Mickey helps out around here,” Ian says firmly. Yeah, he fucking does. Doin’ the laundry, the dishes and other shit. He never did any of that at home. “If he doesn’t want to bathe Liam, he doesn’t have to.”

“Ian’s right,” Fiona agrees. Huh, Mickey takes a second to blink. “He doesn’t have to.”

“Okay, okay,” Lip grumbles, holding his hands up in surrounder. “It was just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, a stupid ass one,” Mickey interjects. Lip rolls his eyes.

Silence falls over them again. Their spoons clink against the bowls, chairs creaking whenever someone shifts.

“Ickey,” Liam pipes up again. All heads turn his way, expressions flicker with confusion.

“What did he say?’ Ian asks.

“Ickey,” Liam repeats.

“He said Ickey...” Debbie furrows her brow. “Is he trying to say Mickey?”

“Ickey,” Liam emphasizes. This brings forth a laugh from Fiona and Ian.

“It’s fitting,” Lip quips. Mickey scowls.

“What the fuck ever.” He digs into his bowl, taking a large scoop and ignoring them all.

Fucking assholes.

Mckey thinks it’s a one and done kinda thing. For a while, Liam doesn’t say it again, and the others make a few jokes for a couple of days before they move on to something else.

Of fucking course it isn’t that simple. Liam waits for the perfect opportunity to strike. He’s a fucking sadist, Mickey’s sure.

Today, Colin and Iggy drop by. His brothers are starting to be around more since Mickey came out. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, even though Ian beams like it’s the most fucking precious thing he’s ever seen.

His boyfriend really is gay as hell.

“What do you fuckheads want?” Mickey demands, His words don’t have as much heat to them, not really, it’s just how he talks.

Iggy tosses a plastic bag his way. “He’s more of your clothes, Stupid.”

“What brought what we could,” Colin shrugs. “Terry burned most of it.”

“Asshole,” Mickey mutters.

Iggy nods a little too enthusiastically. “Shoulda seen it. He made a huge fire pit in the backyard.”

“Whoop de fucking doo.”

He’s pretty sure both his brothers are complete idiots, because Colin glances around, not even trying to be subtle here. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

There’s this change to his tone at the word boyfriend, like it’s this strange new thing for him to grasp. Mickey supposes in a way it is.

“None of your damn business, that’s where,” he retorts.

“Cool it, Mick,” Colin rolls his eyes. “I’m just askin’.”

“He’s just protectin’ his boy, ain’t that right?” Iggy grins.

“Do you wanna fucking die?”

He staggers back when Colin uses the palm of his hand to push his chest.

“You forget that we changed your diapers,” his older brother snorts. “We’re not scared of you.”

Iggy nudges Colin. “Remember when he used to get mad if he thought we didn’t hug him enough before bed.”

“I never did that!” Mickey snaps, his ears going pink.

“God,” Colin shakes his head. “He used to throw the worst tantrums. Worse than Mandy ever did.”

He doesn’t need any of that information to get back to the ears of any Gallagher. “If you don’t have anything else for me then get the fuck out,” Mickey orders.

“Aw, Mick-”

“We were just messing around, dumbass.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Mickey folds his arms.

At that moment, they all hear thudding coming down the stairs. Mickey assumes it’s Carl until he turns to find Liam all dressed in his pajamas.

“Liam, come on. It’s time for bed,” Fiona’s voice is getting closer. Kid musta ran right outta the bathroom.

Unfortunately, he has really bad timing. He spots Mickey, beams and says,

“Ickey!”

Fuck, Mickey sulks while his brothers crack up laughing.

“Did he just call you Ickey?” Colin howls.

Iggy is laughing so hard he leans against Colin for support. Liam giggles too, even though he probably doesn’t know what’s so funny.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey sneers. “It’s real fucking funny.”

“Ickey.”

“Mickey,” he enunciates slowly. “Quit forgetting the M, kid.”

They’re sitting at the kitchen table where it all started, just him and Liam. Ian comes down the stairs, shooting Mickey this shit-eating grin. He comes over to the cabinet to get himself a glass, filling it with kool aid.

“How’s the spelling lesson going?” He asks lightly, taking a seat beside him.

“Fuck off.”

Liam just doesn’t listen no matter how many times he tries. Mickey thinks it’s a Gallagher trait.

“Mickey,” he repeats.

“Ickey,” Liam says solemnly.

Ian snorts. Mickey contemplates strangling him.

“It’s not Ickey,” Mickey says through grit teeth. “It’s Mickey.”

Liam does not agree. “Ickey!” He exclaims defiantly because that’s all these Gallaghers knew how to do.

“No!” Mickey barks.

“Has anyone ever said you’d be a good teacher?” Ian says.

Fuckin’ Gallaghers.

“I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Mickey threatens.

“You make a really compelling argument,” Ian says, not at all sincere.

Remind him again why he chose this dumbass?

“You know, if you keep bringing attention to it, he’ll keep doing it,” Ian continues. “Just ignore it.”

“No,” Mickey shakes his head. “Cuz he’ll think he’s won and he didn’t win.”

“He’s three, Mickey.”

“So what? You think your ginger ass wasn’t annoying at his age?”

“You didn’t know me at three,” Ian says, amused.

“Don’t have to know you. You’ve always been fucking annoying,” Mickey says. “Nah, I ain't gonna acknowledge it unless he says it right.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, Firecrotch.”

“You’re at war with a three year old, you know that right?”

Mickey ignores that. He knows he can win this. He ain’t gonna be outsmarted by a damn kid.

It goes quiet. Liam loses interest in the conversation so he goes to color in the living room. Mickey accepts a beer that Ian offers him, and they just sorta sit there, close and enjoying that the house isn’t currently being overrun with a million Gallagher brats.

Few minutes or so pass when Mickey feels a tug on his jeans.

Liam has a picture he wants to show him. “Ickey, look!”

So he deliberately turns away.

“Oh my God,” Ian mutters.

“Ickey,” Liam repeats. He frowns when Mickey doesn’t respond in any way. “Ickey!”

“Seriously?” Ian sighs.

“Ickey!” Liam starts to poke him incessantly. Mickey takes a deep breath. He won’t let himself be bothered.

Except it does bother him.

Poke, poke, poke.

“Ickey, Ickey, Ickey-”

“What?” Mickey explodes, whirling around in the chair to face him. His outburst startles Ian a bit but Liam is unfazed. He’s grinning and holds up the drawing.

“Look!”

Ian stands up, bringing the cup to his lips as he passes by to put it in the sink. “I guess Liam won,” he comments nonchalantly.

Now he’s not just goin’ around calling him Ickey. He’s been sayin’ My Ickey too.

“My Ickey,” he’ll say at random times, just pointing to him.

Maybe it’s because they’re around each other a lot. Him and Gallagher stay at the house whenever Mickey’s not working while Ian tries to get adjusted to these new meds. So he sees them two more than anybody else.

Ian says Mickey is partly to blame, he shouldn’t be saying, “No!” whenever the kid says it because it’s just encouraging him.

What the fuck ever.

Like now, while they’re trying to watch TV, Liam decides he should be the one in the middle.

“My Ickey,” he says to them seriously.

“You wanna sit next to Mickey?” Ian grins. Liam nods.

“Too fucking bad,” Mickey says blandly. “Stay there, Red.”

“He’s just a little kid, Mick-”

“So what?”

Liam becomes impatient from a lack of action. He pushes his way onto the couch, trying to separate them. Ian laughs and scoots over. Mickey wishes he wouldn’t. He’ll fucking murder somebody if they knew but he liked having his redhead right there with him.

Once there, Liam leans into Mickey, hugging his arm. “My Ickey,” he says, strangely firm for a kid.

“I think I have competition,” Ian snickers.

“Ay, Kid,” Mickey tries shaking his arm but Liam has a good grip on it. “Let go.”

Liam ignores him.

“Face it, Mickey,” Ian says cheerfully. “You’ve won the hearts of two Gallaghers. How’s that feel?”

“Fuckin’ great,” Mickey deadpans, although there might be some part of him that warms ever so slightly. It’s not like he’s used to people seeking him out other than Ian.

That warmth floods him from head to toe when Laim squirms his way into his lap, his head against Mickey’s chest. He’s pretty sure Ian’s giving them those heart eyes right now.

Whatever. This Ickey shit still has to go.

He’s trying to sleep. He’s nearly there when he feels a tug on his shirt.

“Wha-” he mutters sleepily.

Liam’s beside the bed, clenching a stuffed bear that’s seen better days.

Ian’s sleeping soundly as is Carl. Mickey sits up slowly so he won’t wake his boyfriend. “What’s up, Kid?” He yawns.

“Ickey,” he chews on his lips. From the moonlight, he can see tears in Liam’s brown eyes.

“You have a nightmare?” Mickey says, hushed.

Liam nods.

“Fine. Go on,” Mickey jerks his head towards the bed Liam’s using, the one that Carl used to sleep in back when Lip was here.

The kid climbs onto the bed and Mickey follows. Liam’s been having a lot of nightmares recently, and with no one else up at this hour to tend to him, that falls on Mickey.

“What happened this time?” Mickey whispers.

“Monster,” Liam sniffles.

“Ay, it’s okay,” Mickey pulls the blanket up so it’s covering Liam again. “There ain't no monsters here. No unless you count that goofy ass red giant over there.”

His words do little to comfort the kid.

Come on, work with me here, he thinks.

“Look,” Mickey says, “even if there were monsters, we wouldn’t let ‘em get to you, alright? We’d let ‘em eat Lip if we had to.”

This makes Liam giggle. It makes Mickey start to smile unconsciously.

“You good now? Think you can go to sleep?”

Liam considers this, and nods.

“Good.” Mickey doesn't kiss him goodnight or anything, he just starts to get off the bed when Liam throws his tiny arms around his neck to hug him.

“My Ickey,” he whispers.

Mickey sighs, a smile emerging against his will. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, for once not at all annoyed like he should be. “Your Ickey.”

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #liam gallagher #shameless fanfiction

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juliussilver25 · 2 days ago

Text

Harnessing Silver

In the bustling streets of London, a man clad in a shimmering silver outfit stood out like a beacon in the night. His metallic puffer vest and matching joggers caught the light from the sun, making him the focal point of the urban landscape. Passersby stole glances, some intrigued by his futuristic attire, others bemused.

This man in silver, known to his friends as Adrian, had always been a bit of an enigma. He thrived on the edge of the extraordinary, his fashion sense merely an outward manifestation of his colorful personality. Today, he found himself in the company of two young men in black hoodies and caps, their attire a stark contrast to his own. These lads, often dismissed as chavs by society, were anything but ordinary.

"Nice outfit, mate," one of the young men, named Liam, remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Adrian smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks, Liam. Silver suits me, don't you think?"

Liam's friend, Ethan, chuckled. "You've got guts, I'll give you that."

Adrian's confidence never wavered. "Guts and style," he corrected with a wink. "But enough about my fashion choices. Let's talk business."

Liam and Ethan exchanged a glance. They had heard rumors about Adrian, whispers of his unconventional ways and his knack for turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Today, they were about to find out if the stories were true.

"I'm listening," Liam said, crossing his arms.

Adrian leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I've got a proposition that could change your lives. No scams, no tricks—just an opportunity to be a part of something bigger."

As Adrian continued to speak, Liam and Ethan felt a strange desire to touch the silver. Hesitantly at first, they reached out to feel the smooth, cool fabric of Adrian's vest. As their fingers made contact, their clothes began to shimmer and transform, the black hoodies and caps morphing into sleek silver garments that matched Adrian's own. Their perceptions changed bringing them closer to realizing their untapped potential.

"What the...?" Ethan muttered, looking down at his new attire in amazement.

Adrian grinned. "Welcome to the silver club, lads. This is just the beginning."

While Adrian spoke with Liam and Ethan, across the street another man, also dressed head-to-toe in gleaming silver, was having a conversation with a different group. This man, known as Jace, had an air of mystery and a charisma that drew people in. The group he was addressing consisted of a few university students masquerading as Chavs for a research project. The students were completely engrossed by the conversation and captivated by Jace.

Jace's voice was smooth and confident as he spoke. "Silver is more than just a color or a fashion choice. It symbolizes power, prestige, and transformation. Throughout history, silver has been revered for its purity and strength. It's conductive, resilient, and reflective. It’s a metaphor for how we should live our lives—shining brightly, adapting to change, and conducting positive energy."

One of the students, a man named Max, raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we should all start wearing silver?"

Jace chuckled. "Not exactly. It's about embracing the qualities that silver represents. It's about standing out in a world that often tries to make us conform. It's about being resilient in the face of adversity and reflecting the best parts of ourselves."

Another student, Ben, asked, "So, how do we start?"

Jace smiled. "By believing in yourselves and embracing the unique qualities that make you who you are. The silver? It's just a symbol, a reminder of your potential. But the real power lies within you. And once you tap into that, there's nothing you can't achieve."

As Jace's words resonated with the group, Max and the other students felt an irresistible urge to touch the silver. When they did, their plain clothes began to shimmer and change, transforming into stylish silver outfits.

The students looked at each other in awe, their skepticism melting away. "Wow," Max said, admiring his new attire. "This is incredible."

Jace smiled. "And now you understand. It is not about the clothes. The silver you wear is a symbol of the potential within you. Embrace your individuality and shine brightly your silver clothes reflecting your inner strength."

As Adrian and Jace continued their enlightening conversations, another man in silver stepped into the urban scene. This third man, Rey, wore a tailored silver blazer over a crisp white shirt, paired with silver pants that shimmered with every step. His appearance was sophisticated and commanding, contrasting with the street-wise attire of those around him.

Rey approached a group of individuals gathered around in an alleyway bathed in smoke. These were the locals, the unsung heroes who knew the city's heartbeat better than anyone. They eyed Rey with a mix of curiosity and wariness as he walked up to them.

"Afternoon," Rey greeted with a warm smile, his voice deep and reassuring. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"

A man named Jordan, who seemed to be the leader of the group, nodded. "Sure thing, man. What's with the silver? Some kind of promotion or something?"

Rey chuckled, taking a seat on a crate. "Not exactly. The silver is a symbol, a representation of resilience and transformation. You see, in ancient times, silver was considered a mirror to the soul. It reflected light and repelled darkness. I believe that each of us has the power to reflect our inner light and transform our surroundings."

A young man, named Tom, who had been listening intently, spoke up. "So, what's the point? Are you trying to sell us something?"

Rey shook his head. "No, Tom. I'm here to share an idea. The power of silver isn't about wearing silver clothes; it's about recognizing our own strength and potential. It's about standing out, not blending in, and using our unique qualities to make a positive impact."

The group seemed intrigued, their skepticism slowly fading. Rey continued, "Think of the silver as a reminder. A reminder that we can shine even in the darkest of times, that we have the resilience to face challenges and the ability to transform our lives and the lives of those around us."

Jordan leaned forward, his interest piqued. "And how do we do that?"

"By starting small," Rey replied. "By supporting each other, finding our passions, and working towards our goals. It's about community and connection. Together, we can create a ripple effect of positive change."

Rey's words began to resonate with the group. As Rey continued to speak, Jordan and the others felt a compelling need to touch the silver. As their hands brushed against Rey's blazer, their clothes began to transform, the drab and worn fabrics turning into radiant silver garments.

Jordan looked at his new outfit, his eyes wide with amazement. "This is... wow."

Rey smiled. "These silver outfits are a reminder of your strength and potential. Embrace it and use it to create positive change in the neighborhood."

Just as the conversations with Adrian, Jace, and Rey were gaining momentum, a fourth man in silver emerged from the shadows. His name was Seth, and his presence exuded a calm yet powerful aura. His silver attire was a blend of both futuristic and elegant, with a tailored silver suit jacket over a sleek black shirt, and silver shoes that gleamed under the streetlights.

Seth approached a small gathering of artists and musicians who had set up an impromptu performance area in a nearby park. The flicker of candles and the strum of guitars created an intimate atmosphere. The artists paused as Seth stepped into their circle, his silver suit catching the light in mesmerizing patterns.

"Hey there," Seth greeted with a warm smile. "Mind if I join your circle for a bit?"

A man named Nate, who was tuning his guitar, looked up and smiled back. "Sure, feel free. What's your story?"

Seth took a seat on the grass, crossing his legs comfortably. "My story is simple. I'm here to share the power of silver, not just as a fashion statement, but as a symbol of creativity and connection. Silver, like art, has the power to reflect and enhance the beauty around us."

Another man, named Ryan, who was sketching in his notebook, looked intrigued. "How does silver relate to creativity?"

Seth leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Silver is a conductor, a medium through which energy flows. Similarly, art and music are conduits of our emotions and thoughts, allowing us to connect with others on a deeper level. When we embrace our creative selves, we reflect our inner light and inspire those around us."

As Seth spoke, Nate and Ryan couldn't resist the urge to touch the silver. When they did, their clothes began to shimmer and change, transforming into sleek silver attire worthy of musicians.

Nate strummed his guitar thoughtfully. "So you're saying that by embracing creativity, we're channeling something powerful?"

"Exactly," Seth nodded. "When you create, you tap into a source of energy that is both personal and universal. It's about expressing your true self and making a positive impact on the world. The silver we wear is just a reminder of that potential."

As the artists absorbed Seth's words, they felt a renewed sense of purpose. The man in silver had not only captured their attention but had also ignited a spark of inspiration within them. The night air buzzed with the promise of new beginnings and creative exploration.

Gradually, as these four men in silver continued to share their wisdom, the Chavs, the students, the locals, and the artists began to fully embrace the silver. Each felt more confident, more connected to their true selves. The silver became a part of their identity, a reminder of the strength and resilience they had discovered within themselves.

In the end each was ready to inspire others to embrace their unique qualities, to stand out and shine brightly in their own way. The silver clothes reflecting what was already within, letting it shine for all to see. And so, under the stars of London, a new movement was born—one that celebrated individuality, creativity, and the transformative power of silver.

___________________________________________________________

Silver is Brotherhood.

Silver is Family.

Silver is Life.

Ready to join us on this journey? 🩶 Contact Our Cap @morphmastersilver

#silver brothers #silver #silver collective #male transformation #ai generated

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m4iya · 3 days ago

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⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Strawberry Muffins with cookie dough to eat in for @ailurophile

Club Manager ft. Tetsurou Kuroo (fluff)

w.c 2k

Spoilers for the Battle at the Garbage Dump movie!!

“It’s already our second year, are you sure you aren’t going to join a club at all?” The girl spoke while glancing over at her friend, whose head was slumped on the table.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to at all, but the thought of asking would be too embarrassing. It was already the fourth week of school, and everyone seemed to have joined a club already. She hadn’t joined one in her first year, so how would she gain the confidence to join one now?

“It’d stand out on your resume” She grinned convincingly.

“I know..” The girl groaned. “It’s hard for me to just waltz up to an already established club and ask to join.”

“You can be so awkward.”

“I know.”

Though, it seemed someone had overheard her from across the classroom, as when she was packing her bag for the day, she was approached by a timid boy.

“Um.. I overheard you and your friend from across the class..” He spoke with a soft tone, avoiding her gaze. She titled her head in confusion.

“About?”

“Joining a club.”

“Right..” She chuckled.

The boy stuck his hand into his pocket, taking a phone out. “We have a spot at the volleyball club. The team is looking for a manager.. I can call our captain if you want to join” He offered.

“Oh! Um… I don’t really know much about volleyball. I’ve never even seen a game, I don’t think I’d be much help.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“It’s fine. I had to start somewhere too.”

Nodding in agreement, she zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She weighed her options; she could join a club now, and continue with it until her third year. Or she’d reach her third year, having not joined any clubs or made any friends outside her small circle.

And after three whole years, she’d leave school with so many things she could’ve partook in. She’d be the one person who always stood off to the side while everybody else took the opportunity to grow.

“I guess I’ll join.” She smiled warmly.

“I’ll call him then..” The boy’s voice trailed off as he pulled out his phone, dialling somebody. Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone from outside the classroom inched closer alongside a set of footsteps.

“Is he outside?” She questioned

“Give it a few seconds,” he replied “He’ll probably let it ring out.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, a tall student slid the door to the classroom open. The first thing that stood out to her was his very messy bedhead.

She stifled a laugh.

“Kuroo, this girl said she’ll be our manager.” He said, stepping aside.

“Hello..” She waved.

Kuroo let out a hearty laugh as he walked towards the pair. “Kenma, you actually spoke to someone you didn’t know? Without anyone else?”

“It was for the club.”

As he stood in front of her, she was reminded how tall the third year students were in comparison to her.

“Our new manager?”

“I don’t have any experience, so..” She replied, shy.

“We’ll teach you the ropes!” He grinned, slinging an arm over the boy who looked as though he wanted to leave immediately.

After introducing themselves, the three of them, headed for the gymnasium with Kenma lagging behind. It seemed he was distracted by a game on his phone.

She felt nervous, walking next to this boy who she’d never seen before today. Not to mention how tall he was; if she’d turn her head to the side, his shoulder would block her view.

“Say..” She began, aware of his gaze turning towards her. “Is there a reason why you waited until now to recruit a manager?”

“Well, we usually do all the manager work ourselves.” He admitted. “But for us to grow as a team, we need every member - even the substitutes - focused on enhancing their skills.”

She had never involved herself in something like this before, having no idea that it required this level of perseverance. She wondered if this new role of hers would inspire her to pursue a goal of her own.

“..And why did you wait until now to join a club?” He teased, almost scoldingly.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she raised a hand to rub her neck, eyes locked onto the hallway in front of her. She didn’t even think about turning to face him – not from this close.

“I don’t know.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “I guess I’m a bit lazy.”

Through a sideways glance, she caught a glimpse of a smile forming on his lips. “To be honest with you, some guys on our team want a female manager” He blurted out casually.

Eyes wide with surprise, she giggled “What?”

Listening as Kuroo explained the situation with Karasuno’s manager – forming an unspoken rivalry between two boys on each team.

As the minutes passed, her speech began to flow more than usual. She hadn’t expected to be this at ease when talking to somebody new – especially someone who seemed as intense as he did. She found herself sneaking glances at him as he spoke, her gaze lingering longer each time.

He continued, answering her basic questions about volleyball theatrically. The corners of her lips curved upwards as she was unable to stop the constant laughs escaping her as he spoke.

Their walk to the gymnasium seemed to last way longer than any usual circumstance. Their initial brisk pace gradually slowed down.

As he spoke, it was as though he singlehandedly untied the knot in her chest. It was then when she began noticing the smallest things. The way his genuine laughter would sound in her ears, the brightness in his eyes despite their oak hue, the softness in his expression when he spoke of his friends on the team. The way he’d lean over to hear her when she wasn’t clear enough.

Amongst dozens of students passing by, each engrossed in their own conversations, and through all the lingering shouts and laughter, her attention remained focused on him.

And just like that, he introduced her to the rest of the team. Met with a warm welcome, she didn’t feel any of the pressure she had imagined.

She watched as they trained, playing practice matches on a weekly basis with multiple other schools, each team member striving to work on their weaknesses.

Alongside her new friendships with the team members, something separate happened to be blooming on the side.

Whether during class time or practice – it became a joke amongst the team members that if you saw Kuroo, you’d probaby see her, and vice versa.

“Kuroo, eyes on the ball!” Yaku shouted from behind the defence line.

He was usually hyper-focused when on the court. Though, something had uncharacteristically been weighing down his thoughts lately.

The libero’s shout broke Kuroo’s distraction, and with a forward glance, the flying spike rushed into his face and sent him to the ground.

“You okay?” Taketora yelled from the opposite side of the net.

“I’m fine..” He replied, standing back up despite feeling a little dizzy.

“Someone’s been pretty distracted lately.” Yaku teased, walking up to Kuroo and slapping his back.

“Excuse me?” He defensively responds, crossing his arms. “Kenma, you tell them.”

“He’s always talking about our manager.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the team bursts out in laughter as not even Kenma could disagree that he’d definitely been distracted by something lately.

As if right on cue, she walked into the gym holding water bottles for the team, handing one to each of them as they regrouped for a break. His eyes softened upon seeing her face again, something that he’d been doing subconsciously as of late. Upon handing him a bottle, she noticed his face was visibly wounded.

“Did you hurt yourself?!” She gasped, leaning forward for a closer look.

Kuroo’s eyes widened, darting to the side “I’m good..!” He nervously chuckled, taking a gulp of water. He knew he was distracted and was well aware of how he was acting – especially around her.

Bright lights, roaring crowds and dozens of teams, each representing their prefecture. 52 whole teams. It was one of the first times she’d been somewhere so intense, and although she wasn’t playing, she felt extremely nervous.

Nekoma had made it to the quarterfinals – facing their long awaited opponents. She heard about the rivalry from Coach Nekomata; she could only imagine the stress weighing down on the shoulders of both teams.

Though, she herself had been thinking of something for a while. After clarifying with one of the team members, he confirmed that this would be the last match for the third years unless they make it through.

That also meant her last match as Kuroo’s manager.

She had a feeling that he’d been thinking of the same thing as well. Though, she’d avoided mentioning it. If she was the captain of a team playing a national match that generations had been waiting to see, she’d probably try to drown out distractions.

All she could do was sit on the bench, record details, and keep things organised for their time-outs.

She watched as each team fought tooth and nail for every point, treating each play like it was their last. The tension weighed heavy, Nekomas persistent defence paired with Karasuno’s intense offence. Every point scored, every set passed inched closer to the conclusion of the match.

Then it came – Karasuno’s match point of the last set. Gripping her book and pen tightly in her hands, her eyes darted across the court, following the course of the ball. Both teams’ exhaustion was reaching its limit.

She watched as Kenma briskly stepped back, raising his arms for a set as Taketora ran outwards for a quick start to his jump. It all happened so quickly – the next thing she knew, the ball had hit the floor on their side of the net.

Everyone seemed to pause for a moment, taking time to process everything that had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

The whistle sounded, marking the end of the match. She watched as the boys shook hands with the opposing team, not a single one bearing a semblance of anger at the other.

Remaining seated on the bench, her lips began to quiver. She kept her gaze downwards at her feet, her vision becoming clouded by the layer of tears glossing her eyes.

The team then regrouped in front of the coach to hear a few words from him. She stood beside them, unable to look anyone in the eye; she flicked through her book, making annotations here and there to keep herself distracted.

He had noticed her uncharacteristic silence - usually, she’d be all over the place, making jokes and whatnot. Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she had been so quiet.

As she stood behind the bench, stuffing her notebook and pen into her backpack, she noticed a familiar pair of black shoes in her peripheral.

Looking up at him, she felt tears intensely well up in her eyes, once again distorting her sight.

“Kuroo, I-“

“Not here.” He said gently “Let’s go.”

She followed him as he guided her into the hallway, voices and cheers from the court muffling, and the crowds decreasing. In front of him, she crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to communicate her feelings.

“Come on, why the tears?” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and gently rocking back and forth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the calm and collected manager?”

She sniffed, managing a stifled giggle. Loosening his hold around her, he pulled back momentarily.

She wiped her tears before finally looking up at him. He met her eyes with an expression that read ‘I know’.

“I’ll still be around. After I graduate..” Pausing, his voice softened “..And even after you graduate.”

“It won’t be the same..”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

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bowsnkisses · 2 days ago

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𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

matt sturniolo x ice skater!fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ You and Matt have a love-hate relationship... too bad that you have to see each other almost every day, since you are his little sister's coach.

warning: a little angst(?), matt is a little asshole, bestfriends to enemies to lovers trope.

a/n: this was really quick but i hope you like it ;) i think im gonna make this a series idk chat; english its not my first language!!! sorry for the mistakes.

Matt parked the car and turned off the radio, he sighed and looked in the rearview mirror where his little sister, Rosie, had fallen asleep on the way to her ice skating practice. Her head was resting on her jacket, she made a 'pillow' by wrapped the jacket between the door and her shoulder. Matt couldn't help but smile a little.

She started ice skating a few months ago and was amazed. She was always very excited to get to her practices and whenever they finished she would get sad. And the reason for that, was you.

Rosie loved spending time with you and always paying attention to you with her big, blue and curious eyes. And she always repeated how pretty you were to his parents and brothers.

Matt, specifically, knew who you were for many years. You were best friends in elementary school until mid-high school, and you guys stopped talking because he became 'too popular' to be spending time with you, his words. Then a year later, the YouTube channel with his brothers, Chris and Nick, blew up and none of you knew about each other until Rosie, for her 10th birthday, begged her parents to sign her up for Ice Skating classes.

And here you were, seeing each other every day...

Matt always treating you dry and never avoiding rolling his eyes every time you spoke. And you, just wanting to punch him in the face and never see him again.

While Matt was a total asshole with you. Rosie was the total opposite.

"Rosie... bub, we are here." Matt moved her knee gently to wake her up.

"mmhm" She muttered opening her eyes and then rubbing them. Matt got out of the car and walked to her door to get her bag and help her get out of the car.

Once that was done, and Rosie couldn't contain her excitement to seeing you. Running and jumping while Matt almost fell with the pink bag.

When you guys enter to the rink, the little girl screamed with joy when she saw you. Matt made a face and you did too, but that was gone when she hugged your legs.

"Alright alright, someone its excited" You said while laughing at the little girl excitement.

—

Two hours had already passed and Matt was already getting tired of listening to you repeat the same thing over and over again. Once you did for final the class, Matt almost shouted hallelujah to the ceiling. He was getting tired.

And so were you, his annoying and exaggerated sighs for you to hear, every time you looked at him and he rolled his eyes... making sure you knew he was pissed. You couldn't give a big fuck, but it was the same in all the classes he brought Rosie.

And you were getting tired of his attitude.

When the girls went to one side of the blichers to untie their shoes. You took the opportunity to go straight to Matt.

When he saw you approaching him, he couldn't help but smirk a little.

"If this is too boring for you, I think is better for you to stop bringing Rosie. You are really distracting." You said while crossing your arma on your chest.

"Maybe you shouldn't be looking at me all the time and start paying more attention to your students. Some of them really need to perfect some skills" He said with a cocky smirk that almost made you throw up.

Before you could respond, Rosie approached with her shoes in her hand. Basically screaming with her eyes without saying anything to one of you guys to help her change her shows.

"I'll do it" Murmured to kneel and help his little sister.

You just roll your eyes in annoyed without Rosie to see.

Hoping that tomorrow it would be her parents who brought Rosie and not Matt.

sorry if this a completely shit.

btw the filter of the photos i got it from this beauty @sirenedeslily 🫶🏼

let me know if you want more parts :P or more introductions of the characters <3

#bowsnkisses૮꒰ྀི ᴗ͈ ˕ ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀིა #i tried the best i could fr #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo series #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo blurb #matt sturniolo smau #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x ice skater!reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #fanfic

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skull-fvcker · 5 hours ago

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Morality

❥ Yandere! Arcane Viktor x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: cross-posted from my ao3. Old fanfiction from 2021, written way before season two. Thought I might as well post it here—the final episode broke me, by the way.

Summary: Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition. Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

Warnings: 7204 words, MDNI, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, viktor is delusional, yandere viktor by the way, dubious consent(he coerces you), unhealthy and one-sided relationship, gender-neutral pronouns used for reader, no usage of y/n, gentle sex, set in season 1

In all honesty, Viktor did not know how it started or when it got out of hand. It started as a simple fascination and he had treated it as such. Nothing was wrong with that, he was a man of science after all. It was in his nature to feel drawn to things that he did not quite understand. Many years have passed since that day. Before his strange obsession came into his life. Honestly, now that he was alone to think about it, had it ever come into his life at all? Or, by some force of nature, he had forced it into his own life? The ever-changing flow of time halted the very moment Viktor had initially realised that he had more than a problem on his hands.

Viktor thought of himself as a man with morals. He was not the best person, yes, there are plenty of others that shone brighter than he did, but he found his value in his work and ethics. That being said, nothing about him was right. His work had been clogged for year's now; the chaotic office space merely setting as a permanent indication that he had slipped too far this time. Above all else, he had guaranteed himself that his work came foremost, give or take a few instances in which it did not. This case was different, however. A disturbing accomplishment that, when asked initially, he wrote off his findings as evidence, or even lack thereof. Whether or not he was believed, was foreign to even him.

Directly adjacent to his cluttered working place—being neat had long passed his troubled brain, hadn't it?— lie his crutch, sat in such a way that it may fall at any minute. Viktor paid it no mind, at least not at first, but looking over his notes and the observations that he had written down, an idea popped up within what was left of a comprehensive state of mind. Of course, how could he have been so oblivious to forget such a thing, it was written clear as day in these scattered notes. His nimble, cold fingers grasped at the end of his crutch and he tugged it over and dug it into the floor while it enabled him to stand.

Viktor's book laid sloppily in his hand, page open in clear view. "Yes," he breathed, "I suppose this will do." He closed the withered book and shoved it between his left arm and clothed side. Periodically, an opportunity was difficult to come by. He had to do the best with what he had been given, though an itch in his brain told him that: why settle for fine, when you can go beyond?

The aforementioned person that he mentioned, the obsession - the two had never even met before, Hell, Viktor was certain it never even knew of his existence. It was ostensibly a normal upper city citizen with no strange qualities, nothing special about its behaviours nor its personality. It was normal. But it made him feel bizarre inside. He could effortlessly correlate it to that of an over-easy egg slowly cooking within a skillet until the yoke bursts for seemingly no reason and tarnishes the taste of the egg entirely. Just like that, it was ruining him. Granted, neither of them seemed to be eggs, but he believed the metaphor to fit rather well. Humanity always seemed to be so fickle, so easily swayed and broken. Just like an egg.

No matter the weakened disposition he had, nor the lingering scent of death he had become accustomed to, nothing prepared Viktor for the way his certain obsession made him feel. He was intelligent enough to not let these be known, oh, how he would hate the way that Jayce would assume the worst of his sentiments. Would he? Jayce had changed rather strikingly since the first day the two had met. Nevertheless, Viktor never seemed to be the man for love, much less protection of those around him.

Moreover, he was sure that with such dehumanising language and behaviour, nobody would hear his side of the matter. After all, calling the object of your affection an "it," and "thing," definitely does not look good for your compassion. Still, it gave him a reason to humanise his behaviour—if his obsession is not seen as equal, then what's the issue, exactly? To be blunt, it served no purpose other than to make him feel better since not a soul knew of this but him.

Sure, it did not occur to him that he would have strayed this far, but sometimes you have to do what you can to keep someone safe. He was in no state to protect someone on his own, he knew this far too well, he could never protect anyone with this sickly, frail body of his. That is why kidnapping was an absolute must. Reminiscing of the past did no good but to open up older wounds that set themselves up for failure, but the first day they had formally met was an exhilarating experience.

When they had seen him, there was a quizzical expression plastered on their face, and they even confused him for a council member of all things—never attentive, he presumed—but upon realising who he was, Viktor found himself met with immediate scepticism. Viktor could not fault them, it was something he knew all too well, though, maybe he should have saved his anguish for another day. The way their warmer hand held onto his own when he reached out to shake it. Their hand was soft, softer than his at least, and much less calloused. Smaller. Yet, their fingers did not hold the appearance of his own; on the contrary, they looked healthy. Healthier than him.

Of course, with someone who seemed to not have any imperfection, how was Viktor not supposed to fall for them, much less become intrigued with their very existence at that point? Humans were so fickle, he knew very well with how his body had grown to become sicker, but they seemed so robust, so self-sufficient. It was just like any other person, nothing too special but it stood out to him and that was what mattered.

It hurt him, really it did, to see them gawk at him with betrayal, to seem so frightened of someone who wasn't even strong, to begin with, but love came with sacrifice and even if he couldn't help everyone, then he would try to help them the best that he could.

Viktor revolted and fought against his rationality, he really did, he tried his absolute best to make sense of both his actions and what he had done. Within the months, he had thoroughly convinced himself that it was for the greater good, for the safety of his obsession; to keep them isolated from others. It was not the healthiest choice, he would acknowledge at the time, but now he may argue that it was the only thing he could have done upon meeting them formally. He just could not let them go.

Months had passed since that day, but it was fun to reminisce sometimes. Besides, it was even better that, when he had the time, they were someone in which he could spoil with every day. Yes, Viktor took things slow and always was sure to leave them be, yet give them company, but watching them stare at him with a look that he could hardly even decipher anymore, left him breathless. And he didn't even know why.

That very thing forced him into the very dilemma that he is in now. Standing in front of a locked door with a flawlessly crafted key lying in his tremoring hand. It was from excitement, he knew it was. It was like this was his own secret sanctuary where he hid his most precious desire and treasure, his perfect obsession that wept behind locked doors. It was the same every day, no matter how long he would stare.

The door opened with a slight rasp, the only other noise being a stifled sob and the sound of scuffing against the floor, then the buoyancy of bedsprings. His stiff body staggered against the sturdy cane, his hunched over body barely allowing the light to pool in around the walls of the door frame. Every day seemed no closer to his objective. He didn't even know how he had done this. Years worth of obsession and fantasy obfuscated his once comprehensible brain. But it felt as if this was a crucial transition.

Viktor is convinced he is a good man, but his actions are speaking otherwise against his morality.

"Good morning, dear. Have you slept well?" The sounds of chains screamed in his ears when he spoke. All these years and his lover still has not gotten used to their living state. "Ehh... I have already assured you. Good behaviour is rewarded, please understand that this is an absolute must to keep you safe." They were terrified. Of him. Isolation was a punishment and he could never help but feel dreadful about them being punished for things out of their control.

"When can I go home?" was the concern they always pleaded with whenever they saw him. Viktor tried to not let it get under his skin, really he did, but the knowledge that they did not want to be with him weighed heavy on his mind. He loved them, they had to recognize. Their eyes were so passive; it reminded him of when he had first seen the mutation, Rio, when he was a young boy. Curiosity, distress; panic. They just did not understand this yet.

Perhaps all the days that he merely sat there and stared at them with a desolate expression thoroughly destroyed the way they would perceive him, or how he would blatantly ignore their tantrums and screaming, tapping his fingers along the edge of his crutch like a patient father waiting for their child to calm down. Of course, Viktor never mistreated them. The most he did was further isolate them, which explained the absolutely pitiful state that they were in right now.

Reluctance to accept the changing future will result in the fear of what's to come. He understands it's different from what they were used to. But one must adapt to their surroundings and become accustomed. Viktor has already sacrificed so much for them; when was it their turn to return the favour? The ever-changing future is something he will never know for certain.

Viktor sighed, watching them press their body against the nook of the room where their bed had been so delicately placed. The bedsheets had been sent into a state of disrepair, and certain pillows seemed more shapely than the rest. From clutching them too tightly, he inferred. It was adorable.

"This is your home," It was no wonder that they attempted to squeeze themselves farther against the wall when he staggered closer. "I don't have any food this time, I'm afraid," he stood right at the side of their mattress, directly in front of trembling form, his eyes fixated on the plate that sat adjacent to the bed, at least a few days old now. "Though, I'm glad that you, ehm, were able to finish your last meal. Good job." A sigh escaped him after the carefully placed praise fell from his lips and, upon staring hastily at them, he recalled the fear blending within their wide eyes. "However," he found himself fumbling over his words, "I know that you've been a little, eh... downcast, as of late so I have decided that I am going to offer you something that I'm sure you would love," he paused, almost reluctant to reach forward and stroke the hair behind their ear. Hesitant to touch them lovingly.

This situation was a troublesome one, of course, it would be, but he was not a fool in the matter. He read up on numerous articles simply so he can keep things safe for them — falling for one's captor, he had thought about it, yet the turmoil often sets in when he realises that they hadn't developed such a thing just yet. Had he not been too kind? Perhaps, it was the chains around their body? Particular disorders of the mind were so hard to force into existence; was that such a terrible thing to wish for? They looked as if they served more as a pet than anything else, honestly. But that's love, this is just his love. Viktor was well aware that a plethora of things regarding both he and his health weren't precisely right, particularly in concerns to other people. Honestly, staring at them in such a miserable state made him feel almost remorseful.

They must feel so trapped, not to mention secluded, after all, he was never able to spend as much time with them as he would have preferred. He wondered, did they feel imprisoned in their own body, too? Probably not in the way that he did, but it was a suspicion that lingered in his mind. He set his hand on the side of their face unexpectedly, and they jolted back. Granted, he was certain that his hand was freezing. But, Hell, it appeared as if they had almost whimpered at his touch. Still, he had never done anything to harm them, he's only keeping them safe. The images of the mutation Rio sitting in a tank of fluids that he knew all too well now, the thought of it being kept alive despite its pleas not to. Such lengths are just an experiment to preserve life. He understood, now. Not in the way that he should have, but he did.

Maybe that was how they felt. Like a trapped animal, frightened and alone. But they have him, they may not want him, but he is there.

Viktor's knees buckled as they pressed against the edge of the mattress, gently hoisting one after the other to get closer to the horrified individual hiding from his affection, which was already something which he never exhibited frequently.

"I want you to understand," he ran his thumb along their cheek with feathery soft touches, "I know you still don't understand why I'm doing this, or why you're here but rest assured that it's all out of genuine love." When you're going to change the world, don't ask for permission. "Alone. You're lonely and you're scared. I know how you feel. But you're special," their eyes met Viktor's for but an instant and it sent shock waves down his spine. Don't ask permission. "You're special to me, and that is what truly matters at this moment." They were about to cry. Correction, they were sobbing. And it was all his fault. Emotional turmoil mixed with the trauma enforced within them made this happen - because of Viktor.

And despite it all, Viktor could not help but feel proud of his accomplishments.

"Please," their name rolled off of his tongue like a loose screw in his brain, though more akin to a prayer. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, please." Their disobedience irritated him and sent his nostrils flaring, but he didn't allow that to show outwardly. They were already so skittish, why would he threaten them further? "Mm, I will reiterate it as many times as you desire: good behaviour is rewarded. If... If you're good—for me—then, and only then, will I allow you to go outside." His words set off a fire in their brain, he could tell how their breathing unexpectedly halted and they went completely tight-lipped. Was that all it took for them to settle down? An effortlessly broken promise?

Right, they were at their wit's end, weren't they? Their emotions override their rationality. The sunlight would be good for their health, after all. Quite frankly, the thought was unsettling, Viktor didn't want them out of his sight, but if it would make them satisfied then he could make configurations for such a thing. Though, he would have to be cautious to not allow anyone to see them. What if they tried to... escape, in a sense? It was dangerous, he would have to think about it thoroughly.

"Do you mean it?" They said, suddenly. Their head was raised aloft and their wide eyes stared directly at him. "If I'm good... I'll be able to go outside? It's—" A sharp inhale. "It's been months," they were optimistic. Why was it so unbearable to see them so miserable?

For all but a juncture, Viktor felt himself at a loss for words. There was no telling whether or not he would be able to keep that promise, but he could try. They just need to learn to embrace change and adapt, maybe they will forget about it in due time. "I mean it," he said without thought, "you have my word." Did they, truly? You should not make promises that you are incapable of keeping, but just this once, the way their expression lit up and how the tears fell from their eyes, made Viktor feel as if he had done something right this entire time. Without a single word, his hand slowly lowered from their warm cheek, his gangly fingers running alongside the edges of the collar that adorned their flawless neck.

In pursuit of great, we failed to do good.

How would Viktor feel if someone had done this to him? It was a rhetorical question; nobody cared for him enough to go to such drastic lengths to proclaim their love. Therefore, this couldn't have been an unfair thing for him to do. "We must adapt to change," he spoke softly as his fingers danced around their trembling jaw. "You must adapt to change." His voice dropped an octave, gaze falling back onto their face. He had adapted to this change flawlessly fine, it was them that had to figure out how to. They were ultimate perfection in his eyes—there was just one, little issue...

"What are you doing?" Their voice quivered. Viktor's hand slipped down to their collarbones, pinching against the soft fleshy prison.

"Ahm, eh, I am... feeling you, merely. Nothing more," their breath hitched at his actions. "Unless you want me to do more?" An unexpected whimper came from them, in which he did not know if it was good or not, but knowing them, it emanated from apprehension. "I love you, you know that. I would never force you to do something. Think of it as a friendly suggestion," Viktor's blunt fingernails found themselves becoming caught on the neckline of their shirt. "So, will you let me?" There was a pause between them. Most importantly, the air seemed to grow still. Tension so thick that you could slice it in half with a knife.

They shifted but didn't give Viktor a clear yes or no. In all honesty, they seemed to be dismissing him altogether. He could feel their body heat begin to amplify, a telltale indication of both their embarrassment and if he dares say desire. A relatively foolish notion, he was well aware, however, that did not mean anything in his mind, not in the current time. The future could come later, and his life may pass him by. But the future does not exist, does it? Not until you make it so. If he didn't take satisfaction in the opportunity that he had right now, then it may never come up again.

Nevertheless, he took the chance and leaned forward, inch by inch until his face had pressed into what was seen within the crook of their neck. Their skin was soft, warm; pulsating. "I am obsessed with you," both of his hands set themselves upon their shoulders, thumbs clutching against the blade of their clavicles. "I am, truly. My devotion, my love, my obsession for you—that will be the only thing that will never change no matter the year to come. You may push me away all that you desire, but I will come back to you. I love you." His chapped lips pressed in between their jawline and neck, a chaste kiss that he allowed to linger on their skin. They didn't even bother pushing him away. They had the strength to, yet abstained.

We failed to do good.

"Understand my efforts," his voice was barely above a whisper, "you must have seen them. Make sense of my love for you." His grip on their shoulders tightened, but he knew it would never be enough to harm them. It wasn't as if he wanted to injure them in the first place, either. However, it was short-lived, and Viktor's hands fell from their shoulders to their bound wrists, and straight down to their tremoring hands. "I have always wanted to do more with you—to be what most would consider a "couple" yet you keep pushing me away." During his rambling, Viktor heard them mumble something under their breath. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm sorry," they whispered. For the first time, it seemed that they were apologising to him so sincerely, maybe with actual suspicions that something may transpire if they were to not apologise. It was startling, but a chance to hear their voice was satisfactory for Viktor. There was a lingering breath that he could feel tickle the back of his neck, coupled together with their heaving chest. They were scared.

We have to make it right.

Viktor felt his heart hammer against his rib cage, a knot forming in his throat bitterly. This clammy feeling in his chest was unneeded. "Well," he spoke with a sharp exhale, "do you know what would make me forgive you?" As if he hadn't already forgiven them, to begin with. Upon feeling them nod slowly, Viktor pulled away from them and hurried his hands from their own, to their neck. His touches were faint, but loving. Held a certain edge to them, hinted at with a distinct emotion. "I'm very sure you're aware of what I'm getting at," his breathing picked up, just as theirs did, and for a few instants, it seemed that theirs was in sync with his own. To his surprise, they shifted and nodded in agreement, but did not vocalise it.

Anxiously, Viktor proceeded to slowly creep his body forward, even closer to them than he was before. He felt his heart thumping against his rib cage, the wind being knocked from his lungs as he shakily exhaled. Viktor was not the type of man for sex, he never had the time to do it; but when it came to his little obsession, why not indulge? Their consent was dubious at best, but at this point, any hint of acceptance was promising enough for him. He struggled to rationalise his thinking but instead was only met with a cluttered mess within his brain. Viktor couldn't concentrate on anything other than them at this moment. It was just the two of them, and that was all that truly carried weight to him.

His kisses against their skin were light, virtually non-existent, but the genuine love that he harboured for them persisted despite their shuddering breathing; despite their apprehension. Viktor's lips pressed against their tender jawline until he finally met the edges of their lips. His hands were twitching, cupping the sides of their face with his thumbs caressing the skin underneath their eyes. This would be their first kiss together. Would they reciprocate it? He sure hopes that they would in some way, they don't seem to have any reasoning as to why they wouldn't. He pulled back momentarily to stare at them, only to notice that they weren't looking at him at all. That would be okay.

"You're mine," he breathed as he pressed his lips against their own once again. Viktor felt as if his chapped, thin lips were being engulfed by theirs—though, theirs were equally as chapped as he were. He made a mental note to up their water intake. The kiss did not quite feel the way that he visualized it to feel—he thought it would have felt more romantic in a sense. Moreover, he would have believed that they wouldn't be chained to the wall in such an intimate instant. But, good behaviour is rewarded. This was temporary, they knew that, as did he. Just as the kiss was about to end, he felt them lean into it and press their lips into his own. That, above everything else, made him feel like the blessedest man in all of Piltover. Of Zaun, anywhere.

"I love you more than anything," confessed Viktor as he pulled away from their lips. "I'm glad that you're mine." And he meant it.

Their breath hitched just as it constantly did when he touched them. Maybe it was the fact that his hands were gradually examining their body, tilting across every crevice, from where their midsection concave whenever they'd instinctively suck it in out of humiliation, to the quiver of the skin around their navel when his fingers ran along the sensitive region. Viktor's hands were underneath their shirt, his wiry fingers eagerly squeezing the skin. They squeaked at first, his hands were frigid after all but eventually unwound though not peeking at him. Viktor wished that they would look at him like a person rather than an oddity.

The hem of their trousers huddled against their hips, hiding away the most intimate part of their body that only Viktor was allowed to see. For a moment, he looked into their eyes for the right to go ahead, but upon being avoided, Viktor merely yanked them down with enthusiasm pulsing through his veins. His thumbs pressed between their navel and hipbones, in an almost comforting gesture. But it wasn't as if they cared in the long run, however, he could hear their hitching breath. Through dirty-minded thoughts, Viktor's right hand loomed above their sex while his other clasped against their hipbone for support. He was actually doing this—something that he had just as much as dreamed of for years.

"Please," their whiny voice startled his thoughts. "Just... be gentle with me," they didn't seem to be in the mood to fight him at all. That's good. Viktor was sure he had neither the strength nor the energy to deal with it.

His thumb pressed against the sensitive nub below, threatening a gasp from them. "I'll never hurt you," he rubbed their hip in synchronisation with his sensual touches against their sex. "I promise, I will do what I can to make you feel pleasured." His breathing picked up as arousal trickled down his spine like that of the emotions that he loathed. "I want... to see the inside of you. All of you," he spoke aloud, a hint of longing in his tone which he had shoved back this entire time. He wanted them to comprehend his love to its full potential.

Viktor's face pressed against the crook of their neck once again, shifting his hips as he closed his eyes. They were making noises, now, their chained wrists clicking against the harsh metals as they lifted their hands to dig into his back. Secretly, he had hoped that they would call his name. He knew that they knew it. They've spoken it countless times before. Granted, it was always in a fit of rage or hysteria which followed, "I hate you," and, "You ruined my life." But they knew his name at the very least.

Moreover, they were unravelling at the seams. They liked this just as much as Viktor did. They loved him, they had to. Lust and love were on a thin line, so closely drawn together yet had such distinct differences. Could the same be said about obsession? Maybe so, but that did not mean much by this point.

"I love you," he breathed into their neck, his warm breath no doubt sending shivers down his spine or so he hoped. "You feel so soft, so pretty..." His fingers toyed with their sex, jerking in sporadic movements which caused their hips to buck against him, further spurring him on. "Do you like it when I touch you like this? Like I—" his breath hitched when their hands clenched the fabric of his vest, "Like I own you?" For once, they actually agreed with him.

"Y-yes," they let out a pitiful, rueful whine more akin to someone who was used to this sort of thing. But that was inane. They belonged to him. "It feels—It feels really good, I..." Their hips were rolling now, eagerly trying to accept his love rather than pushing it away like they always had been. They were accepting change. They were adapting. "Jus—just like that, please, Viktor—"

And at that moment, time seemed to halt.

They said his name, not out of pure spite or anger, not from him doing something they did not like, but in pleasure. The pleasure that he was inflicting on them. "You're doing such a good job, So good for me," it came out as more of a wheeze than praise, though there was a hint of worship hidden within it. "Are you going to come soon? I want you to come undone because of me. I love you," his lips returned their place at their neck, his crooked teeth nibbling onto their soft skin, further forcing out a reaction from them. Just from their responses and noises alone, Viktor felt as if he was going to come any second now instead, and he hadn't even touched himself. All he could feel was his dick beginning to strain against his dress pants.

It was getting so hot and stuffy, surely he should take off his vest and dress shirt soon. The things that they did to him were things that he didn't even expect. The love he harboured, the desire he held—they were his weak spot. This precious creature. Viktor felt his breathing pick up as he pulled his teeth away from their neck, their delicate skin caught between his incisors.

Once more, slowly, his fingers gently danced around their sex, forcing himself to concentrate and try to block out the absolutely lovely noises that they were emitting. The noises, be as they may, were provided to him involuntarily, he attempting to reject the wail of pleasure that came from them. The squelchy sound of their fluid pooling around his fingers met his ears, giving a sick taste of satisfaction. His left hand clenched their skin a little too tightly for even his standards, the wiry fingers of his right hand working against him, deliberately circulating apart and snapping concurrently, a shudder running down his spine at the howl they made along with the response their body offered. Devoiding much of a thought, Viktor pulled his left hand away from their hipbone, dragging the appendage straight to the front of his dress pants, fumbling with both the zipper and hem in an attempt to pull it away from his groin.

"Oh," he heaved as he pulled away, ignoring the whimper that came from his lover in front of him. They wanted this. They needed this. Needed him. "Would you mind if I tried..." The words died in his mouth as soon as they came out, his left hand hovering above his concealed groin. Surely, they would say yes? They seemed a bit dazed, though perhaps it was his fault for not allowing them the relief that they were so close to acquiring. "I want to... feel you. I may not last very long," he fished his dick out of his boxers, feeling his face heat up to the point where he was sure it was red. "Do you want to?"

They made eye contact with him this time. The humanity, the want, the greed and the fear shone in their eyes brightly, but nothing could cover the telltale signs of love and lust. Viktor already knew the answer, they didn't even have to answer him, he already knew what it was going to be by their reaction alone. This was the key to their heart.

Now, at first, Viktor would not lie when he said that it made him feel a bit shy, or nervous—the thought of them seeing such an intimate part of his body, one of which he knows can be heavily judged based on size, was nervewracking to him. But the lack of disgust in their eyes—or maybe it was hidden between a thick cloud of lust—made him believe otherwise. They liked what they saw, and hopefully, nothing would change the way that they saw him. Their approval is what he strives for. However, that does not exactly matter with how far things have gotten. How many times has he repeated that phrase in his head?

The silence was deafening, but it was enough for Viktor to shuffle forward and shift his weight onto his somewhat good leg, swallowing the rising lump in his throat as he used his free hand to pull down their trousers. After this, he would be sure to give things a thorough wash. "Can you come closer?" He asked as he pulled his hand away. Please come closer.

He hadn't expected them to listen to him, nor to actually push themselves off the wall just to get closer to him, but, at the same time, he was not complaining. "Good job," he praised, his hands returning to place on their hips. Their skin felt so warm, but Viktor could still feel the reluctance radiating off of their perfect form. Now, this was just a question of whether or not he should go through with It. If he should finish claiming them.

The rattling chains served as a constant reminder for them to not fall out of line, and Viktor was sure that they did not want to do such a thing, especially not so close to salvation at this point. Steadily, Viktor felt their thighs wrap around his hips, and though the pressure and their weight being shifted onto him were agonising, he tried to force his way through it. The way that he could feel the tip of his dick press against them—that was like pure ecstasy. He never thought the day would come when they would grind into his lap so sensually, and act as if they had never tormented him for years to come.

"God," there was a slight plea laced within his velvet tone, "I need to be inside of you. Please," as much as Viktor loved them, he could never trust them to be the one providing. Not with how their behaviour had exhibited... less than desirable traits. "Will you allow me? We could finally become one in a sense. I just want to feel your insides around me, I want to feel your body heat against me." Whether or not they found pleasure in Viktor's begging, they offered him a response anyway:

"Shut up," was what they said. "Go ahead."

And with that, Viktor found himself slowly pushing their body down into the mattress, further ruining the bedspread and sheets that weren't even properly fixed in the first place. They still seemed reluctant, as their tone even harboured a certain edge to it, but hell, Viktor could not fault them. He feels nervous, too, of course, he does. Pulling down their trousers fully to their calves, he felt a knot grow within his throat. The thought of someone else doing this to them caused bile and jealousy to rise within his empty stomach, curling and screaming in the back of his mind, yet he pushed it aside in favour of much kinder thoughts.

A part of him wished to be able to twist and manipulate this circumstance, but he knew he didn't want to do such a thing - Viktor wanted nothing more than for them to just become wholly his and only his until death would take hold of them both. And even then, that would not split them apart nor dwindle his love for them. "I'm going to..." There was a brief pause, embarrassment etched across his face, "Er, make love to you," he spoke aloud, though it was more as if he was convincing himself that he was going to, rather than informing them.

There was little to no resistance when Viktor pressed himself inside, but it was such a foreign feeling that he could not help but whimper at the sensation. They were warm on the inside, and not the mention that their body would occasionally clench around his dick. His golden eyes gaped at their face, eyeing the expressions that they would make, all the way until the hilt of his dick finally pressed against their pelvic area. This was embarrassing.

Shamelessly, Viktor pulled back his hips, only to snap them forward with a moan. He tried his best to keep quiet, however, with the way that they started breathing heavily with their knees pressed up against the sides of his thighs, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. They were perfect, they felt perfect - on the inside, the outside, no matter. He hunched his body over their own, using the strength in his arms—what was left of it, anyway—to keep himself up. Viktor had no clue how long he would last, nor how his body would allow him to continue. But with how it felt, he hoped it would be long enough.

"You—you're... You're big," they suddenly confessed, a slight whimper escaping with the moan that left them. Fuck, they sounded so adorable like that. "Don't... Stop, please—"

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine at the blatant praise that fell from their lips shamelessly, it seemed so heinous, almost as if they were trying to get him going. "Ah..." Keep talking. "You, ah—you think so?" He panted as his hips snapped forward once, then twice. Was he drooling? Shit, he was drooling. "You feel so good on the in—the inside. So warm, so inviting. I would never... want to stop," a particularly loud moan escaped him, which seemed to be a hybrid of both a moan and wheeze. His lover didn't seem to notice nor care, however.

Why would they ever want to leave when they have such luxury in their life? Here they were, underneath Viktor with their eyes clenched tightly, hands balled up in fists as strings of moans escaped their bitten lips. They looked gorgeous like that. It even made Viktor feel powerful to know that he was able to make them feel such a way. Nearly impossible, he thought, if they weren't tied up and reluctant to accept him, they might have tried something devious and that would have ruined every single thing that Viktor had planned. Still, they're accepting his love.

His rhythm wasn't exactly straight nor following any set beat. Viktor felt as if his movements were sloppy and skewed, choppy thrusts and shuddering muscles that he was surprised had lasted this long. He could feel himself growing close, but he couldn't allow himself to unless they had, first. They mattered more than anything else.

"D... Darling," he nearly cried out, "I love you so much—" One of their hands threw itself behind Viktor's head, tangling their fingers within his messy locks of dark hair, gently tugging him forward. A shock ran down his spine at the gesture.

"I know," they breathed, "I know you do." Were they feeding into his delusion and leaving him to feel as if they felt the same, or did they genuinely love him at this moment? The way their eyes slowly peeked open was complete bliss for him, the irises that stared directly into his own with blown-out pupils—love.

He felt his sloppy movements speeding up, all while his body became sore from the extended movements, and all while this happened he felt the drool collect on the edge of his lips, dripping down his chin to their shirt, wetting the wrinkled fabrics. It didn't matter how ruined it would get, Viktor made a mental note to give them an even better shirt. Nevertheless, a knot coiled itself within his gut, curling around his navel and shooting a cramp up his spine in an almost pleasurable manner.

His bottom lip caught itself in between his incisors, muffling a forthcoming moan. "Are you—" a choked moan. "Are you clos—close? Please—" There was borderline whimpering in tone and he could not help but feel embarrassed for it, but the trembling person below made him feel a little better about his childish worries. They nodded without speaking, staring at him through thick eyelashes. They were gorgeous.

Viktor smiled, and it met his eyes. "So am I."

It was blissful, for him, at least—everything seemed perfect and in order as Viktor's right hand clasped around the side of their waist, squeezing the soft, malleable flesh: pliant. His breathing picked up, as did theirs, but he was determined to stretch this out for as long as he allowed himself to. As he closed his eyes tightly, Viktor felt his thumb dig into the dip between their stomach and hip bone, causing a red indentation on the soft skin. Through his pleasure, he could hear the loud sound of their moans below, as well as the sound of skin slapping against the skin; the squelch of genetic fluids mixed. Viktor's eyebrows furrowed together at the sound, his head falling against their chest, forehead pressed directly above their heart. Their clavicle, he presumed. They felt so good, he didn't want to stop, but he was so close.

"Viktor—" they cried out, suddenly, "I'm g—going—" there was a loud, rueful cry, followed by a high-pitched whimper. He could feel them clench around his dick, and then they had come. This sent him over the edge. Viktor lifted his head weakly and pressed his lips against their own, his saliva smearing all over their mouth and cheeks. He moaned into their mouth, pressing his hips forward one more time as his hand clenched their skin, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He emptied inside of them, the muscles in his thighs twitching and convulsing, his dick soon going limp thereafter.

For a moment, Viktor caught his breath, chest heaving with laboured breaths. Tears pricked his vision when he opened his eyes, and the slobber dripped from his lips. His legs felt as if they were stuck in mud, but how did they feel? As he lifted himself, Viktor stared down at the person below him, completely covered in the afterglow. I came inside, that was an accident, he thought, but they looked so cute like that.

Much like before, Viktor felt a knot form in the middle of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing with each calculated swallow and breath.

Viktor felt breathless, but he felt as if that was to be expected. He stared down below at the barely visible person he had claimed just a few moments prior; his vision betraying him. He rests his forehead against theirs, a promise of devotion. "What can I do to make you love me?"

"Let me go," they whispered in a soft croon.

"You know I cannot afford to do that. You're mine."

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