#not just the stuff buried in the mountain of tags

[fen-the-space-dragon]

Guyssss, I made a Spotify playlist for Middlepaw and now they’re sad… they weren’t the most joyful creature before, but now I like actually made them sad a little bit. Maybe more than a little bit, haha. They just kinda pretend they’re not sad and try to avoid thinking about it. “Fake it ‘till ya make it!” If they act not sad, then they’ll become not sad, right?? (Spoiler alert: that doesn’t work)

[einsatzzz]

Happy Holidays!!! ft. HibaKana, YuiHiyo, TsunaRumi and ReboApp 🥰🥰🥰 I wanted to draw something for the holidays and remembered that @butterrdream sent me a wonderful set of art bases a few weeks ago, talked a bit on which of our ships suit which base. Anyway, I thought it was perfect for this bc of the cold weather setting + Christmas being more of a "couples" season in JP 👀✨

Art Base Source: aniforceus (울산 애니포스)

I'll also use this post to thank everyone who supported me and interacted with any of my works this year. And yes, even if it's just once! A lot of stressful things happened to me this year, but I'm still thankful for the year because I got to meet a whole lot of wonderful people who share the similar brainrots for OCs as me, whether ur a friend, mutual, follower, anon or any other user at all. Of course, I'm also thankful for the friends that I also already have from previous years (thank you for still being friends with me ueueueue 😭😭💖✨)

Thank you for interacting/talking with me, for sharing your OCs with me and for being patient with me whenever I'm having irl struggles. I hope ya'll have a wonderful holiday season (or a wonderful next few days if you don't celebrate!) 🥳🥳🥳 Wishing everyone even more bountiful brainrots for each of our interests hehehe

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[sttoru]

just saw ur fic ideas post .......... how bout semi public stuff with gojo @ some high end jujutsu event and he just is SOOOO enamoured with how you look and takes you to the bathroom and ..... 😙

GOT A FETISH FOR YOUR LOVE !

ෆ note. sobs dies ressurects… im so weak… i had to write a full on fic… everyone thank T for this cuz i went crazy on this one and it’s super detailed for no reason. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. (perv)dom!satoru x female reader. semi public, p in v — unprotected, bits of manhandling, corruption kink, breast play, premature ejaculation, cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, teasing, cum play, creampies, spanking, pussy slapping, mentions of masturbation, perv panty stealer satoru, implied cunnilingus, fucked against a wall, lots of dirty talk, satoru calls you ‘slutty’ once, satoru with the famous ‘just the tip’ beg, satoru sometimes turns whiny and subby so you get the best of both worlds (hes pathetic), he has a big dick ehem, pussy drunk satoru.

satoru couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you climb up the stairs near the torii gates of the high school he teaches at; your appearance only increasing in beauty due to the candle lights placed all around the environment.

your face and body were glistening under the moon light as you made your way up. you were silently cursing yourself for wearing heels while knowing that jujutsu tech was situated on top of a literal mountain.

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had been waiting your arrival near the entrance since the first guests started pouring in.

with a sigh, you finally lift your head up as you notice the entrance to the main building come into view. there were lots of known sorcerers gathered around, chitchatting about recent business and changes in the jujutsu society.

you were too enamoured by the elegant decorations that hung around the school and the people who were dressed accordingly to the theme to even notice the white-haired man walking up to you.

which was unusual, since satoru’s tall physique could be easily spotted in any crowd.

“baby, you should’ve told me you had arrived!” satoru exclaims almost embarrassingly loud, waving at you without a care in the world of all the other guests that were giving him stares. his gaze was only on you, “i would’ve come picked you up.”

you wave back at him, eyes lingering on the tailored dark blue suit he was wearing, the waistcoat and dress shirt underneath being undeniably attractive. a bonus being that he was wearing his glasses and not his blindfold.

“it’s okay, love.” you reassure satoru as you walk a few steps towards him as well.

“ya sure? you didn’t hurt yourself or anything, right?” satoru pouts, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tight, “my poor, poor girl.”

you roll your eyes at satoru’s antics. his one and only desire in life is to give you the princess treatment you deserve and it shows at moments like these.

“it’s fine,” you murmur, voice muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck; getting drowned in his familiar scent, “you look handsome by the way.”

satoru chuckles, feeling a bit giddy on the inside from your compliment. he almost responded with a ‘i know i do’, yet he held himself back. today was an exception and he decided to save you from any more cheeky remarks.

“thank you, pretty.” satoru hums, “you look ethereal.”

you could feel the way your boyfriend hugged you even tighter after his comment, pressing your body against his. you normally wouldn’t mind it in the slightest, however you could notice a few people glancing over at you two.

satoru couldn’t give a single damn about it; the only thing his senses were hyper focused on were your breasts that were squished against his chest—the curves of your body being easily accessible to the sorcerer.

“god..” his breath was shaky a little. satoru was really trying hard to repress his urges, the event hadn’t even started yet and even so, he was way too lost in his perverted thoughts.

he couldn’t help himself. you were just too addictive; your perfume, your warmth, your body, your face, your glossy lips… your breasts, your ass—

satoru clears his throat and pulls back after a bit, “shall we, m’lady?”

he bowed a little to you, putting his hand out for you to hold on while a subtle smirk played on his lips.

with a giggle, you grab onto his hand and satoru wastes no time interlocking your fingers as he guides you to the entrance of the main hall.

the building was scattered with even more sorcerers from all kinds of clans; some admiring the scenery, some sitting and eating various delicacies.

like before, you were too caught up in the scale of the event to realise that satoru was ogling you. it was a great thing that his pitch black lenses were blocking most of his eyes from the outside;

his gaze lingered on your side profile, your lips that were slightly parted in amazement, your hips which swayed from side to side with each step and your ass which he tried not to grope in public.

satoru hadn’t even noticed that he started to ball his hands into fists out of pure self control. his hand that was holding onto yours tightening its grip as well.

“something wrong?” you ask your boyfriend once you noticed, tilting your head to look up at him.

“nothin’, baby.” satoru lies and flashes you a reassuring smile, “c’mon. let’s enjoy some food.”

without waiting on your answer, satoru guides you towards a free cocktail table and stands near it, serving you an appetiser that was set on the table cloth.

you gladly accepted it and took a small bite, looking around the place some more and taking in the details, “it’s really pretty. the decor and stuff.”

satoru hums in agreement even though he hadn’t taken a single proper look at the environment when you were the main event in his eyes, “yeah. i think so too.”

everything about you somehow drove him crazy today. on most normal days, he could wait until you were at home to show you how much he adores you. that was not the case at the moment since he was fighting with his own self on the inside.

he was absolutely whipped for your elegant look.

“very pretty.” satoru mumbles under his breath. he most definitely wasn’t talking about the interior or exterior of the place.

it was getting harder by the minute to not give in to his primal needs. the more you talked to him, flashed him your innocent smile and let him hear your voice, the more he was struggling to keep his (now hard) dick in his pants.

you continued rambling about something that you noticed around you and satoru took the chance to place his hand on your hip, pulling you closer. it wasn’t anything unusual, thus you kept on talking.

it started off by him rubbing the area around your hips to his fingers subtly sliding downwards, eventually reaching the hem of your dress. his index finger dipped under the fabric, caressing your upper thigh. that small skin to skin action made satoru’s breath hitch and his cock twitch in its restraints.

“fuck.”

“what was that?” you abruptly stop yourself as you heard your lover curse under his breath. you weren’t aware of all the lewd thoughts going on in satoru’s mind and that made it even better. your innocent confusion wasn’t going to last long, however.

satoru lowered his head a bit until his lips were right next to your ear. the warmth of his breath made you shiver.

“i said,” he starts off in a low tone; one which he knows would make you weak for him, “i want you.”

it was as if time froze for you for a split second. you knew what satoru meant with that. you could’ve easily guessed the hidden meaning behind those three words just by his tone. the light but daring touches on your legs were your second hint.

“love, we’re in public.” you whisper back. satoru has a reputation to uphold as the strongest sorcerer in this entire building, yet there he was; implying that he wanted to take you right there and now.

a sigh left satoru’s lips, the air hitting your ear once again, “please, baby? for me?”

satoru was running out of patience. he could act out in the midst of the hall and disregard his image for all he cares. he just needed you. badly.

“promise i’ll be quick, yeah?” he adds, tone pleading but also a tad dominant.

you gulp and wanted to give in. you stood no chance to your whiny boyfriend, who always knew the right buttons to push to get you to comply to his requests.

satoru saw the hesitation in your eyes and he decided to plead more, “just the tip. i promise, sweets—tha’s all i need.”

a intrusive mental image of satoru fucking your brains out made him grip your thigh a bit harder; his voice suddenly growing deep and dominant, his expression filled with only lust.

“shit—please. have to feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me or i’ll lose it.”

his words were growing explicit and it was only a matter of time before he actually touches you improperly in front of everyone. you could tell by the way his long fingers inched closer to your clothed cunt.

“..fine. just the tip, like you said.” you breathe out shakily out of pure desire. though, both of you knew that it was going to be more than ‘just the tip’.

satoru grinned and immediately put down the appetiser he was holding onto, grabbing your hand and almost rushing out of the hall.

there were a few sorcerers trying to greet him on the way, yet he didn’t even glance at them once. his eyes were dazed with hunger as he swiftly made his way through the crowd—his thoughts being filled with the ways he’ll have you moan and beg.

satoru opens up the door to the nearest bathroom, pushing you against the wall the moment the door closed behind you.

his glossy lips crash against yours, the lipstick you’re wearing smearing on your lover due to the aggressive and almost sloppy way he kissed you. his tongue prodded against your lips before entering your mouth—strings of saliva and heavy breaths being exchanged between you two for what felt like minutes.

“ah, fuck. i wanted this so bad,” satoru moans against your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “..since the moment i saw you in that dress.”

his big hands were all over your body; groping and grabbing onto your flesh, from your ass and thighs to your tits.

“mhhh— ‘toru, god,” you sigh, feeling yourself get wet from just his confessions, “you can have me, all of me.”

your lover grunts at your words. they were exactly what he needed to hear. he roughly pulls the hem of your dress up, revealing your white panties. his all time favourite. a small, lustful grin instantly appears on his face. he always thought that you looked extra innocent in those; and that by ripping those off, that he’ll corrupt that ‘pure’ image.

and don’t let him start on how many times he’s used that specific pair of panties to jerk off. he vividly remembers how his sticky cum covered the cloth afterwards.

“haah—fuckfuckfuck,” satoru curses repeatedly as his fingertips tremble out of pure desire, “can’t wait any longer. you’re gonna walk around the avenue with no panties later on, ‘kay?”

“sato-” your eyes widened and before you could even protest, you hear the fabric of your underwear tearing. the ripped off cloth falling down onto the cold floor.

“there we go,” he mutters in delight, his eyes gazed at your exposed pussy. his fingers rubbed over the skin, grazing the wet folds. a deep, breathy chuckle echoes throughout the bathroom, “this pussy’s just ready to be filled, don’tcha think?”

you nod feverishly and nibble on your lower lip at the way satoru was teasing your clit. his hand slowly cupped your slippery cunt, his palm covering the area entirely before slapping the velvety flesh. three small smacks, each making your limbs tremble.

“ya hear that?” satoru hums, completely overtaken by his desire for you as the squelchy sounds ring in his ears, “so ready to be stretched out and fucked.”

“hnnnh, ah, baby—please just, just fuck me.” you whimper; feeling the pressure of his hand’s thenar against your clit while his fingertips traveled across your vulva.

“oh, i definitely will.” satoru responds with a grunt as he undoes his belt and zipper with his free hand. his trousers and underwear fall down to his ankles, revealing his cock to you.

your mouth watered at the sight as it slightly slapped against his lower abdomen due to the speed at which satoru took his boxers off. the moist drops of thick pre-cum coating his pink tip, the slight curve of his big shaft and the veins covering it—you needed to have him in you.

when satoru thinks that he prepped you enough to take his cock, he removes his hand from between your legs. of course, he isn’t going to waste a chance of tasting your slick that gathered on his skin.

“turn around,” he orders after licking off his fingers and you do as said, “ass back towards me, pretty.”

one of satoru’s hands was on one side of your hips to hold you steady against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, the other occupied with stroking his cock. satoru was already contemplating on where to cum; in or on you. he’s obsessed with spurting his sticky cum on your plump ass, however he also loved stuffing you full of it.

“deep breaths,” your boyfriend reminds you as he prods the swollen tip of his cock at your entrance—despite the prep, it was always almost impossible to avoid a slight discomforting sensation in the beginning. that man’s length was no joke.

“ahhhh, fuuuck! satoru!” you hiss and your fingernails try to dig into the wall you were pressed against. you felt your folds being forced apart to fit his cock inside of your small cunt.

“shiiit.. you’re fuckin’ tight.” satoru grits his teeth. no matter how many times he breaks your pussy in, you still feel as tight as ever, “..mmh—relax, princess.”

satoru pushed in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and you both took a deep breath. a sloppy kiss was placed against the back of your neck as reward for taking him in. it was his habit of doing so every time the two of you get intimate.

“‘m gonna start moving. that alright?”

a simple nod coming from you was plenty to let satoru begin with slow, soft thrusts which soon enough turned into deep and firm thrusts—the pounding sounds echoing in the bathroom, “there we go—ahh, yeah— fuck!”

“mhhhg, s’good! ngh!” you slur your words a bit as satoru started to speed up the tempo, feeling his heavy balls slap against the skin near your clit every time he drove his thick cock into you, “mmph! more, wan’ more!”

neither you nor satoru could care anymore if your desperate mewls or the harsh skin-to-skin sounds were heard outside of the dimly lit bathroom.

satoru was slowly losing his mind as he gazed down at your ass and the way you moved your hips back to meet his rough thrusts—he never got enough of you in that position. his hands held onto your hips before moving to your lower back to deepen your arch a little. his eyes were in a trance; he needed to see more of that chubby ass and the recoil of it.

“i swear—you’re gonna make me,haah, cum already,” satoru moans as he tried to find a way to distract himself from the pleasure building up to a breaking point. he decides to gently bite onto your shoulder, running his tongue over the slight mark he left and then continues to suck on the flesh.

“hmmmh, haah, yes! need- need your cum in me, please- please, ‘toru!” you beg in such an erotic tone that satoru can’t help but bite down harder on your shoulder.

“princess—y-you can’t say that-” he swallows a lump in his throat as he forces his cock so deep that you felt it hit your cervix repeatedly, “please- don’t say that.. don’t, oh god—“

satoru was the one begging this time; his voice sounding more whiny than it had ever been during your little session. he can’t help it when it comes to you. he had desired to fuck you since he saw you and now that he was finally doing it, his senses were utterly overwhelmed.

“nonono,” you hear your boyfriend curse as the strokes inside your tight cunt turned harsh and quick, like he was on the verge of his climax, which he didn’t want. he didn’t want to cum in under two minutes, but he’s just so weak when it comes to you. so damn weak.

“ahhh, fuck— s-sorry, baby— can i cum? can i cum in you? please?” he bites his lips, shutting his eyes so tight that he could see colors.

“please, please, let me. mnghhh, please let me cum in you. wanna fill you up.” satoru repeats his words like a chant in your ear. you were as lost in the feeling of ecstasy as your lover was and just nodded at his whiny pleas.

“mhmm, yes, do it—cum in me!”

your permission was all satoru needed and not a second later, you felt ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your cunt and some drops gush out of your pulsating hole.

satoru was quivering slightly as he kept moving his hips in slow pumps, fucking the cum deeper into you. you were full of surprises; he didn’t know he could cum in under two minutes until right that instant. you really had him wrapped around your finger.

and the best thing? he was already starting to get hard once again.

satoru slowly pulled his dick out of you and only let the tip stay a few centimetres in you. one hand went to grab onto the base of his length and he started to tap and move the tip in tiny circular motions in your cum-filled pussy—making sure every single drop is dumped where it belonged.

“fucking greedy, ain’t ya?” satoru hisses as he feels you clench onto his tip like you were doing to his cock earlier, “your pussy just wants to milk me dry.”

you whine and push your hips back a little in attempt to push his cock further into your needy cunt again, “wan’ more.. please, ‘toru?”

gojo satoru was a weakling.

he slammed his cock fully inside of you again and didn’t care if you expected it or not; he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. his hands were kneading the flesh of your ass, spanking it every now and then to feel you tighten up more around him while his hips were working full time.

“yeah? gonna take another load in your slutty cunt again?” satoru groans as he feels your pussy gripping onto his throbbing cock like it was pleading to be stuffed, “haaah—you’re incredible, nhh, never had anyone make me cum this quick and hard before.”

your body squirmed and shivered each time you felt satoru spank you, ending up in a repeated cycle of you tightening up around him and him smacking the fat of your ass, “yes, yes, yes! want it, please!”

it was incredibly difficult to hold back your own orgasm when satoru was whispering filthy things in your ear, pounding into your creamy pussy while also stimulating your clit.

satoru instantly caught onto the fact that you were nearing your climax. you always started to get more noisy whenever you were close, “aah, mhm—cum on my cock while i dump another load inside of you. c’mon, you can do it.”

satoru’s words made your stomach fill with butterflies, the coil inside of you threatening to finally snap.

“‘m gonna.. gonna cum! gonna cum!” you cry out between ragged breaths, eyes rolling into the back of your head once you reached your long-awaited climax.

the sight of you arching your back even more while you came was the hottest thing satoru’s seen. he rushed his thrusts, becoming more precise to hit your cervix over and over again.

“mhm, jus’ like that—tighten up more.” your lover hisses and his nails dug into the flesh of your hips while he felt your pussy throbbing from overstimulation, “milk me dry, pretty—fuck!”

your mind was foggy with that euphoric feeling after reaching your orgasm. but also due to satoru continuing to bully his thick cock all the way in you, seemingly needing to drain his balls inside your cunt.

“mhhhhnn, ‘m gonna fill ya up again,” he whimpers a bit into your ear from behind while sweat drips from his forehead, “take it all like a good girl, yeah? don’t—haah— waste a drop.”

and with that he spurts and squirts strings of cum into your womb once more. it felt like there was no ending to it as his semen just continued to pump out of the tip.

“fuckkk! got more for you,” satoru almost sobs out, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips as his muscles tense up. he came so much into you that even more of the liquid drizzled down on the floor beneath you, “take it—yeah—jus’ like that.”

a few more deep and chaste strokes and satoru was done. he exhaustedly rests his chin on your shoulder, white locks clinging onto his forehead and his cheeks colouring a reddish hue.

“haahh.. that was amazing.” satoru sighs deeply, trying to catch his breath while wrapping his arms around your waist. he buried his face into your neck, leaving small pecks there while mumbling about how good you were for him.

your eyes were closed as you rest against the wall, enjoying the affection from your lover while you feel his dick go limp inside you. satoru slowly pulls out afterwards, biting his lip as his gaze lingered on all the fluids leaking down your trembling thighs.

“hold on,” satoru murmurs gently, “gonna clean you up, princess.”

his own legs were shaking slightly as he quickly put his boxers and pants back on. your boyfriend grabs a few tissues from a nearby dispenser, kneeling behind you afterwards.

your eyes followed his fingers as they held onto the wipes and started to clean you up slowly. the comfortable silence—excluding the muffled sounds of chatter and music from outside the bathroom—was perfect for you to catch your breath.

satoru was diligently sliding the tissues over your skin, making sure to not be too rough.

as much as he tried telling himself not to get turned on again from the sight of your ass and sopping cunt in front of his face, he just couldn’t.

your lover was breathing heavily and stopped cleaning you up for a second. he really tried his best to stop himself over and over, though the title of being the strongest didn’t apply to his self control.

his large hands came up to hold onto your ass, spreading the cheeks apart which made your lips part in shock. you looked over your shoulder at him and sensed the resurfacing lust in the air. not only that: his warm breath hit your sensitive pussy as he panted in a hungry way.

satoru lifted his head up to meet your eyes, flashing you a (not so) apologetic grin;

“sorry, pretty. i need to get my dessert.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No. 

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes. 

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him? 

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again. 

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is. 

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you. 

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them. 

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?” 

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display. 

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things. 

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on. 

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost. 

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess? 

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men. 

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you. 

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else. 

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...? 

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?” 

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?” 

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild. 

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier. 

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him. 

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move. 

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?” 

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth. 

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes. 

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed. 

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever… 

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable. 

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?” 

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs? 

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes. 

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet. 

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak. 

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine. 

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy. 

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight. 

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine. 

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future. 

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago. 

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world. 

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing. 

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind. 

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them. 

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love. 

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

[mktskii]

—Explosive Fixation

part two.

—Synopsis: Bakugou's pride takes a massive hit when he finds himself drawn to someone outside the hero course—the best support course student he’s ever met, and the person who couldn’t care less about him. What starts as begrudging respect (and annoyance) slowly turns into something he can’t ignore. Now, if only his stupid gauntlets would stop breaking long enough for him to figure out how to deal with these frustrating, unfamiliar feelings.

—Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x AFAB + Support Course!Reader.

—Genre: Slow-burn romance, slice-of-life.

—Tags: Enemies-to-lovers, banter, RBF reader, grumpy x grumpier, miscommunication, one-sided crush, support course expertise, Bakugou struggling with feelings, Bakugou crushing on reader so hard, reader is tired of everyone's shit, reader does not take Bakugou serious AT all.

Bakugou finding himself crushing on someone from the support course? The very idea would have Bakugou ready to throw himself into an explosion, especially since you're not even in the hero course. How did this happen? You're just a regular student from the support department, not some flashy hero-in-training. Hell, you don’t even try to impress people! Bakugou's Bakugou—so why, out of all the people, is he suddenly caught up in the fact that he likes you like that?

It all started with his gauntlets, which were, as always, broken after another insane training session. This time, however, Hatsume Mei was busy with a massive backlog of orders. So, when he stormed into the support lab to demand a quick fix, Hatsume just waved him off with a nonchalant “go ask them” and pointed to you, buried under a mountain of tools and gear. You were known in the department, even beyond that. People whispered that you were better than Hatsume herself when it came to making support items, which was already wild because Hatsume was a freakin' genius. But here’s the kicker—you didn’t want the attention. You didn’t care for the praise or even the stress of constant requests for new gear. Okay, fine. Maybe you do a little. And when Bakugou, the most demanding, arrogant student in the entire school, barged into your workspace, his booming voice interrupting your flow, you quite literally did not want to put up with his shit. “Get out.” Your voice was cold, indifferent, and to the point. Bakugou had expected, well, anything else—maybe some stammering or apologies and you dropping everything and fixing his gauntlets like he demanded. But this? Definitely not this complete lack of interest. He was fuming. “Do you know who the hell I am?” he growled.

Your eyes barely flicked up from the blueprint you were studying, annoyance clear in your expression. “Yeah. And I don’t care. Get out of my workspace.”

Needless to say, Bakugou had never been kicked out of anywhere before, and the fact that you banned him from ever asking for your help? Or, more correctly, fixing his stuff? That hit harder than any villain could. When he ranted to Kirishima, expecting him to agree with how crazy you were for doing all that, Kirishima was disappointed in him—actually disappointed for screwing up such a basic request. You? You were the best at what you do, and somehow, Bakugou had managed to ruin his only chance at getting you to fix his gauntlets.

Bakugou, in classic Bakugou fashion, decides to fix his gauntlets himself. He sketched up the mechanics of his gauntlets, so how hard could it be? Turns out, really freaking hard. Not only does he botch the repair, but his malfunctioning gauntlets accidentally explode during class, damaging some of his classmates and earning him the wrath of Aizawa and everyone else. He’s pissed—at himself, at his classmates, and mostly at the fact that he can’t get those damn gauntlets fixed without swallowing his pride and asking you.

The next time he sees you, it’s different. He doesn’t storm into your workspace like last time. He’s gritting his teeth, practically seething, but he still manages to blurt out, “Sorry for bein' an asshole. Fix this… please.” It sounds like the word “please” burns his tongue, but he says it.

You stare at him for a moment, and give him a sharp scoff but take his gauntlets. As you examined them, you muttered curses under your breath about “egotistical hero course jerks” and “time-wasting nonsense.” But, despite your annoyance, you went above and beyond. You reinforced his original design, making it stronger, lighter, and more streamlined for better control. When you handed them back, they didn’t look any different on the outside, but Bakugou could feel the difference the moment he tried them on. They were perfect.

For once, he didn’t have anything to complain about.

That’s when the “crush” began creeping in—though he’d rather die than admit it. Suddenly, he found himself making excuses to come back. His gauntlets were “damaged” again because he never knew just when to stop training. His headphones were “broken” (even though they weren’t). His phone “shattered” for no reason. Every stupid thing he could think of, he brought to you, just to have another interaction.

But the funniest part? You never gave him the satisfaction of a reaction. Your resting bitch face (legendary, by the way) stayed neutral, and your voice remained flat, devoid of excitement. You rolled your eyes, cursed under your breath, and muttered sarcastic comments as you fixed whatever Bakugou brought you. If anyone pissed you off, especially Bakugou, you'd mutter high-pitched imitations of their voice while glaring out of the corner of your eye, making him feel oddly uncertain—like he was the one out of place for once.

He hated it. You were smart. You matched his freakish drive to perfect your craft. And worst of all—you looked too good. Even after explosions from Hatsume’s latest disaster left you covered in soot, your tired, messy look didn’t detract from how attractive you were. It pissed him off.

But here’s the thing—he was still a dick. Despite the fact that he’d come back over and over, pretending his gauntlets needed another fix or inventing some nonsense reason to see you, he would never admit to liking you and, so, he’d go out of his way to piss you off just because, well, he can. So, hell no. He was not falling for some support course student who barely gave him the time of day.

...Right?

That’s what Bakugou kept telling himself, anyway, even as he found himself lingering a bit too long in the lab, watching you work with laser focus, unaware of the chaos happening in his head.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

[bullet-prooflove]

Can I get a Dean Winchester fic with number 8) He pins you down on the carpet, makes paintings with his tongue. Maybe a little size difference added in, if you want? If not I'm fine without! Thank you!

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @deanobssessedgirl @cosmic-psychickitty @cinderellasmissingshoes

Companion piece to:

Gatlinburg - Dean falls in love in a tiny town in Tennessee.

With You - Dean tells you he's going to stay the night.

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Dean’s feral tonight, he has been since he rolled into town and saw another man kissing you on your doorstep. It’s a shitty kiss. Tentative, tepid, barely anything at all but it lights up every nerve ending in his body because it means you’re dating just the way he told you to.

Because Dean doesn’t do commitment, he doesn’t come back to the same girl after he’s hit it.

Except with you he does. He’s lost count of the times he’s found himself in Gatlinburg tangled up in you.

“You need to find yourself a nice guy to settle down with.” He’d told you as he redressed in the light from the breaking dawn. “Someone who can take you on dates, who sticks around.”

“Yea, because the shit I get up to on the mountain, that’s the type of stuff you can bring home to someone else.” You say sarcastically as you sit with your back against the headboard.

He hadn’t had anything to say to that so he’d walked out instead, closing the front door quietly behind him, before double checking it was locked. He’d stuck around until you’d turned out bedroom light before he’d hit the road again.

Tonight he waits for that guy to pull away before he knocks on your door. You answer it with no shoes on, still wearing that pretty red summer dress that you went out in and Dean he just loses it.

You don’t make it to the bedroom, you don’t even make it into the hall because Dean has you pinned to the rug, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue painting his name on your clit.

“Oh Harlow baby, he can’t do this to you can he?” He mumbles against your slit as your fingers thread through his hair. “He can’t get you off like this.”

“Dean.” You whimper because he has you right there on the cusp of nirvana.

“Say it Harlow.” He whispers, his hand slapping lightly against your clit, sending a jolt of ecstasy vibrating through your entire body. “Tell me I’m the only one that gets to make you come like this.”

“Christ Dean.” You cry out as his fingers slip inside you, stroking over that deviant little space, the one he always seems to find. “You’re a jealous prick.”

“Yea, I am.” He admits as you clench around his fingers. “Especially when it comes to my girl.”

“Your girl?” You question, your hips arching as his thumb traces circles over your clit.

“Yea.” He says with a ferocity he feels in the depths of his soul. “My fucking girl.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[neuvilette-tea-party]

Hi! I just wanted to share that I love your writing, I've been reading all of your Steb fics!! And I just saw that you like Neuvilette too! And I couldn't help but wanted to share this thought with you because I feel like you'd understand the vision haha, because I feel like it works for both Steb and Neuvilette!

Idk if you know Final Fantasy or seen Final Fantasy 10 but there's this really romantic scene between the two main characters where they shared a kiss while swimming in a really beautiful glowing lake and I couldn't help but see Steb or Neuvilette doing it as well, especially with how beautiful the underwater in Fontaine can be

It's this scene if you'd never seen it!

https://youtu.be/Enx5R5FNXMo?si=-_UV3xt9pnOmaGXb

I just wanted to share it with you in case it inspires you in some way haha, always enjoying your writing, keep up the good work!

- Fishy Anon 🐟

Hi Fishy anon🐟❤️Aaaaaaw❤️ It's so cute and soft 🥹 It inspires me for best boy Steb❤️

₊ ˙ ⊹Steb x F!reader₊ ˙ ⊹

Tags : Fluffy fluff, swimming in a cave, deep kisses, hugs, reader does not know how to swim but Steb is here to help, cozy

You remain on the edge of the lake, dissing your nails in the fabric of your shorts as Steb’s head pierces the water, swimming towards you lazily, only his eyes visible like a crocodile. You smile and crouch down, your arms around your knees. 

“The waters looks delicious but I do not know Steb.” 

Steb stops a mere meter from the bank, looking at you intently, awaiting for you to join in those turquoise waters to swim together. He signs and you chuckle. 

“No, I am not worried by the water’s temperature, it’s just... I never really learned to swim... ever.” You shamefully admit. 

You meant to try but never found the courage to do it, even after joining the enforcers. You had to hide that detail from everyone, and especially Maddie with how noisy she is. But you told Steb, your mentor and then lover. 

Steb cheek fins shake with the tips if his ears as he signs again. 

“Hey!” You splash him playfully, “The courage to charge an enemy and to swim is very different, do not mock me, Mister!” You stick your tongue to him with a giggle. 

But you would lie if you said you were not a bit afraid, even Steb’s feet do not touch the bottom, how are you supposed to enter the water with confidence? 

You lean forward to see what you thought was correct: This lake is very deep, and even though bioluminescent algae illuminate the bottom allowing you to see in these very clear waters, you gulp with concern. 

The last time you entered a river, you did it with a safety rope at your waist, linking you to the bank with your teams, water up to the hips and you advanced in furious flows to save a child blocked on a rock in the middle of the river. 

You both almost drown. Almost. 

And even though you survived, your idea to learn to swim was not buried for good! You will never enter a new body of water so deep! 

This brings you to tonight, after you got home from your patrol, Steb got down the stairs with a backpack and handed you a train ticket. You both jumped onto a train last minute with both of your packs and to the Mountains you went! You walked to a wood cabin that he opened and before you could do anything else after tidying your stuff and the cabin, he grabbed your hand gently and guided you to this lake inside a large cave, illuminated by the aquatic flora, giving it a hypnotizing aura. 

You jump as Steb’s wet hand grabs yours, inviting you in. 

“I’m a little afraid...” You quietly admit. 

It is so so tempting to join him, you would like nothing more but you are so terrified by water. 

Steb gently cups your cheek and opens his arms wide, inviting you to jump in his embrace. You gulp but stand up to get rid of your clothes. Once in your bra and panties, you walk back to the bank’s edge and hesitate. 

Steb’s ears shake and he extends his hands to you in an inviting manner. 

He gestures to you to jump into his embrace with a soft expression. You close your eyes shut, take a deep breath, and jump in with a yelp. You are already regretting it! 

You end up in the cold water and collide with Steb’s chest. He immediately closes his embrace around you. 

You reopen one eye, unsure, discovering your head above water and in Steb’s arms, solidly clasped around your waist. He tilts his head to you with a gentle smile. You circle his chest with your own arms, pressing your two bodies together. 

“Do not let me go, all right?” You plead. 

Steb simply purrs and kisses your temple as he starts to move in the wonderful waters. 

It isn’t... unpleasant, you realize! Especially in his secure embrace! That is top-notch! 

You both swim arms in arms for a moment, lazily floating together, your ear pressed against his rumbling chest as he purrs loudly. 

After a moment he swims to the wall of the cave and detaches you from him, prompting you to hold on to a rock piercing the water as he swims away. 

You thought he just wanted to swim a bit freely without you slowing him down, but you realize, horrified, what he is trying to do. He looks at you intently, his hand extended to you, patiently waiting. 

“Steb! I do not find it funny!” 

He is ridiculously close all things considered but it is too far for you! You cannot cross that distance! 

He gestures for you to come to him, his fins waving with cheerful energy and a tender smile. 

“Steb!” You choke, outraged. 

He tilts his head, visibly amused by your distress. This is absolutely nothing for him, but it is too much for you. You grip the rock harder to not let go. 

He pretends to swim away toward the exit and abandon you here until you shout at him. 

“Steb!!!” You scream, horrified; “Do not leave me here!” 

He returns to his former position and resumes his gestures. You gulp, terrified and petrified in these cold waters. 

“You can do it.” He simply informs you, absolutely sure of himself and you. 

You huff, but when you meet his eyes you can only see absolute trust and support shining in his ocean eyes. 

He knows you can do it and is dedicated to proving it to you! 

“Mon amour...” He calls for you with his voice so rare, like a siren. 

You grit your teeth and throw yourself in the water. You throw your arms and legs around pathetically and with despair’s energy but you manage to advance and close the gap little by little. Steb awaits you, arms wide open until you throw yourself at him with a grunt of despair and relief. 

He immediately hugs you tight and cradles you with a cheerful laugh, his purr resonating loudly in the cave while you catch your breath, your nails dug into his skin to never let go. 

He cups your two cheeks and fondly kisses your entire face, cheek, chin, nose, eyelids, forehead, ... No surface is safe from his lips before he dives his eyes into yours, his lips hovering over yours, so close and so far away at the same time. 

Taunting you 

Tempting you... 

You gulp, licking your lips in anticipation, parting them slightly like an invitation and he doesn’t lose time responding. He presses your lips together in a sensual and soft embrace, his hands holding the back of your head and your back solidly. 

He kisses you like a hungry, desperate man, robbing you both of your breath in a matter of seconds. You circle his neck tight, eagerly responding to the kiss. 

Feeling alive. 

You part from each other reluctantly after full minutes of love and warmth, panting like after a sprint, holding on to the other like a buoy. 

“Tell me that’s not what you organized for our entire stay, Steb.” You hope. 

He grins, his fins waving with playful mischief. 

You grunt, letting your forehead collide with his chest. 

“You’re lucky I love you so much, Mister!” You protest tiredly. 

His purr rises up in the notes and he resumes his lazy swimming with you in his arms, pressed tight. 

He did not let go for the rest of the night...

[sentientgolfball]

A prompt for you if you want :]

⁵⁰⁾ “you can be a little rougher, y’know. i’m not exactly delicate.”

Phantom/Aether

eheehehehe enjoy some Phantom/Aether first time together

Send me a pair and a prompt!

Tags: mean Aeth, irresponsible use of quintessence, knot mention

This is not what Phantom expected when he finally got Aether alone. 

“Taking me so well love bug”. 

The sweetness was almost sickening. Don’t get them wrong, they loved the tender stuff as much as the next ghoul but they wanted something else from Aether. Just about everyone in the pack had recounted their encounters with Aether to him and Phantom wanted a taste. Dew and Mountain had been adamant Aeth could turn your brain off faster than you could blink. Rain and Swiss told all about his ability to literally turn your brain off, making you a pliant little toy for him to use. Cirrus and Cumulus told them the magic words to get him riled up. 

Phantom had followed the air ghoulettes’ instructions perfectly and it had worked. Phantom had gotten up to get more snacks for the movie and Aether had followed. He slipped them his tongue for only a moment before insisting they go to his room. Phantom couldn’t have been more excited to finally have his turn with Aether. They wondered what he would do to them, cock getting chubby the more they thought about it. 

It threw him off when Aether undressed him slowly, kissing every branch of his lichtenberg figure scars, chuckling when some quint sparked at him. He shrugged it off though, assuming Aether was just warming them up. 

Warming them up yeah right. 

Aether had so very carefully worked his fingers into him, taking his sweet time. He kept their lips pressed together through the whole process, drinking down every soft whimper from Phantom. When Aeth had brought the head of his thick cock to their waiting hole they had thought this was finally it. They’d see the side of him that they had been dying to experience. 

Aether pushed into him slowly cooing soft praises and wiping the tears from Phantom’s eyes when he winced at the stretch. 

“Oh love you’re doing so good for me” Aether pulled out and thrust back in just as gently as when he started. 

Phantom couldn’t help the whine that slipped past their lips. For Satan’s sake it was still Aether even if this wasn’t what he was looking for. He let Aeth hump away, closing his eyes and curling his hands in his hair. He tried so hard to focus on how good Aether felt, but his mind was still wandering. He was so far gone in his own fantasies he hadn’t noticed Aether had almost entirely stopped moving, grinding lazily against his hips. Fuck they couldn’t take this anymore. 

“You can be rough, you know. I’m not exactly delicate” they breathed out. 

Aether stopped moving entirely. He chuckled lowly, planting a kiss on their skin before sitting up from where he was buried in their neck. The look in his eyes made Phantom suck in a breath. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Wh…what?” 

“To be fair you lasted longer than I expected.” 

Phantom looked him dumbfounded. 

“Do you really think I didn’t notice the little game you were playing all week? We’re quintessence ghouls Phantom and you haven’t learned enough to be able to block me out.” 

“I don’t uh I don’t know what you mean” they swallow hard, blush creeping on their face. 

“Please. Don’t lie to me and don’t you dare think about backing out now. Too late for that love bug.” 

Phantom tries to stammer out a response but the second they open their mouth they can feel Aether in their mind. They go boneless before they can even think to push back, tongue lolling out of their mouth. They try to move anything but the only thing that cooperates is their eyes. Aether leans over him, placing his hands on either side of his head on the mattress. 

“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me, little buggy. I’ve been dying to see how far I can really push the body. It’ll be so much easier since I can hear you” Aether taps the quintessence symbol on their chest. 

They try to moan when Aether bends them in half, shoving his thick cock into their ass as deep as possible. Nothing comes out of their mouth. 

“Real fucking bendy aren’t you?” 

Aether immediately pounds into them, brutally bouncing against them. Phantom’s eyes flick up to watch, it’s all they can fucking do. The sight of Aether staring at where their bodies meet, growling low with sweat glistening in his hairline makes his cock kick. 

Oh so that can still move. 

Just as Aether had promised, he practically experiments with Phantom. He bends him in every way he can think, even trying to get him to suck his own dick at one point. He couldn’t do it but he got real fucking close. Now Aeth has Phantom in his lap, cock shoved down his throat. He’s been using his mouth for the past…however long it’s been Phantom didn’t even know anymore. There was not a single thought in his mind except for Aether. Their eyes flicked up to look at him through their lashes and he grinned at them. 

“You’ve been so good all night, how about a little treat?” 

Aether shoved his knot passed their lips, gripping the back of their head while he came down their throat. Phantom would’ve came when the taste hit his tongue, but Aeth made sure that was impossible. He dick was so hard and he’s sure he would’ve came at least three times by now if it wasn’t for the amount of quint Aether was pouring into him. His scars hadn’t stopped glowing for the last ten minutes. 

“Once this goes down we’re gonna see if you can take my whole hand, how does that sound love bug?” 

Phantom projected his affirmation into Aether’s mind. The older quint smiled, petting at his cheek to feel his knot inside. Phantom would have to thank Cirrus and Cumulus later for teaching him the tricks.

[theunholybastard]

Hey!! I have a new request. A fic where the ghouls dissappear to the den for a few days to deal with their cycles. Inhuman ghouls again. Copia has no idea where they all went and is worried about practice. Esencially, he walks in on them fucking each other...... 75% porn 25% plot. Thank you!!

Hey, Lovely! ��� My apologies for the little wait, I've been busy cooking up some absolutely devious stuff for Kinktober 😈🙏 I hope this was worth the wait!

In Sync (Era 5 Ghouls x Papa Emeritus IV Smut)

Tags: Heat/Rut, Orgy, Overstimulation, Double Penetration, Face-Sitting, Biting/Scratching, Blood Kink, Voyeurism, Copia's a Pervert, Squirting, Cum-Eating, Knotting, Mention of Breeding

He didn't know how something like this could happen. I mean, obviously he knew it was possible, but seriously, what are the chances?

Whenever the Ghouls went through their heat cycles, it was usually just one or two experiencing it at a time. They would just be able to retreat to their den for the duration, and come out to rejoin society once it's over with. It's never caused any problems, even during tours Copia was able to find a different Ghoul to dawn a mask and act as a replacement for a few shows. But all of the Ghouls going into heat at the same time? He never could've predicted something like this.

The show was tonight. The Ghouls were expected at practice, and they were not there. Where the hell were they? Heat or not, Copia needed them. It's not like he could find fucking eight replacement Ghouls in such short notice. They can suck it up and control themselves for one night. The show must go on, right?

Copia knocks on the door to the Ghoul den. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still, no answer. They gotta be in here, right? He opens the door. That was a big mistake.

I suppose when you have a bunch of horny Ghouls in one room, it's bound to happen. It's not like they can control themselves in this state. All of Copias prized Ghouls; naked, bodies squished together to the point where you couldn't tell which body parts were which. The Ghouls are too caught up in their sexual deviancy to notice Copia, who stood in the doorway, frozen.

Swiss and Mountain were sharing Aurora, Mountain stuffed in her cunt while Swiss takes her ass. Sodo had Rain bent over, buried balls-deep inside of him, fucking into him rapidly. Meanwhile Phantom, Cirrus and Cumulus were together, Cirrus bouncing on Phantoms cock and Cumulus sat on his face. A cacophony of moans echoed throughout the room, along with the obscene sound of wet skin slapping.

Copia didn't know what to do. Should he say something, make his presence known? As if that would stop them. He almost wants to just stand there and watch, see how long it would take for one of them to notice, and how they would react once they did. Would they shoo him out? Would they keep going without a care? Would they invite him to join? Copia is ashamed to admit, a jolt of arousal shot through him at the thought.

Aurora was the loudest of them all, how could she not be when such a little thing like her was taking such big cocks? Her mouth hung open, drooling from how good they were fucking her, reaching deep within her to hit the spot each time. Mountain, who was typically gentle during his sexual endeavors, harshly yanks Aurora by her hair, pulling her in for a kiss. Sloppy, saliva dripping from the corners of both of their mouths, fangs and horns clashing violently together.

Sodo ferally bucks into Rain, snarling and clawing at the poor Ghoul underneath him. He bites the nape of Rains neck, piercing the skin and lapping up the blood leaking from the wound like a starved vampire. Rains hand is tucked underneath his waist, furiously jerking himself off. A puddle of cum is already formed on the floor below him, working towards what looks to be his third or fourth orgasm, sobbing and shaking unbridledly from the painful, stinging pleasure.

Phantoms whimpers are muffled from the curvaceous Ghoulette grinding on his face, incapable of doing anything other than desperately sucking and licking at her folds, like he needed her cum down his throat to live. Cirrus rode him feverishly, mewling as a particular slam of her hips causes the head of his dick to hit her g-spot directly. Cumulus has a tight hold on his wrists, spitting words of filth down at him as he suffocates on her cunt, rendering him completely and utterly at the mercy of the two.

Copia can't help but rub himself through his pants as he takes in the sight of it all. He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn't watch this, let alone pleasure himself to this, and he definitely knows this is just going to delay practice even further. I mean, it's not like he could stop them even if he tried, he might as well let them fuck it out, right? They should get it out of their systems now so they can be able to perform later; and surely it's for the best that he get it out of his system with them.

It isn't long before Copia grows more confident with his movements, gingerly extracting his cock from his pants and stroking it freely. He bites his lip to hold back his moans, trying to remain undetected, though a small part of him is itching to get caught. He watches as they pump load after load into each other, seed pouring from their holes.

Aurora screamed hoarsely as Swiss and Mountain came nearly in sync, flooding her womb and ass and stretching her with their knots. It's a wonder she didn't faint, Copia thought to himself. Soon after, its Sodo letting out a demonic roar as he finishes inside Rain, Rains cock weeping along with him. Lastly, Phantom reaches his orgasm with a full-body shudder. Cirrus takes it all with a smile, both her and Phantoms juices mixing together and dripping down his balls. The vibration of Phantoms groans against her clit sends Cumulus over the edge, her orgasm filling his mouth, drinking it all down hungrily.

The sight, the sound, the smell; it's all too much for Copia. All of them, skin glistening from being covered in sweat, spit, blood and cum. Successfully bred and knotted. Fuck. His orgasm hit him like a bus, sudden and unanticipated, spilling his seed with an embarrassingly loud gasp. Finally, the Ghouls take notice, all turning their heads towards the noise. Copias face grows red, eyes wide, petrified.

Just when he expected to be yelled at for disturbing their intimate moment, a deep chuckle comes from Swiss. A couple other Ghouls join in, not laughing at Copia, but rather the absurdity of the situation. It's Cumulus who speaks first, curling her finger towards him in a 'come hither' motion. "Wanna join, Papa?"

They didn't attend practice that day.

-

[starrclown]

In your blue flame au, did they try to seal the samadhi fire and failed or did they not even think of it? Also does DBK still gets sealed under a mountain in this au?

Honestly I don't know. I only really gave this au a name so I could search for it with tags. Also I like naming stuff. I drew this cause hot take, but I feel like the fire should have went back to Redson when season 3 was over. Not cause I don't like Mei, I love Mei, I just think Redson should get it back cause I mean it is his power after all.

Honestly i just think this au would be silly. Like realistically if this was a actual au I cared about then it would take place when Red was little and there would be shenanigans. I also just like drawing Redson with blue hair. It's neat.

To answer your question, probably. I see it as like, they tried but It didn't work but the fire kinda calmed down inside Redson like how it did to Ao Lie so now it's not really a issue and they just let him keep it. Maybe Nezha and Wukong train him so that when he gets upset it doesn't freak out and hurt anyone.

For DBK, no clue. Let's say for shenanigans sake, the celestial realm decided that he didn't need to be buried or killed cause he was to busy helping his baby to do any damage. So nah, he probably wouldn't be sealed. For shenanigans sake.

I like this au but I don't think to hard. It's all pure silliness with hints of super serious angst. Its all a good time.

[daisy7beauty]

The consequences of dancing in the rain — Wonyoung x reader

summary: Y/n finds out that being sick isn’t such a bad thing

pairings: Jang Wonyoung x fem!reader

tags: sick fic, fluff, short and cute, non!idol au

word count: 639

——————————

Ditching the umbrella and dancing with Wonyoung in the rain seemed genius and romantic at first, but now that y/n was laying in her bed, unable to move, she wanted to kill her past self.

What was she even thinking? Their past period that day was PE which definitely didn’t help with preventing her from getting sick. Now she had to suffer the consequences.

The only benefit was the fact that due to Wonyoung having a freakishly strong immunity, she wasn't sick. Which meant that y/n could be coddled by her sweet girlfriend however much she wanted.

Speaking of her: “Wonyyy! Comeback already! What is taking so long? I miss you!”

Y/n whined, her head tilting to try and see out of the half opened door to her room. Wonyoung left a few minutes ago to get something to eat for y/n, but her absence was much worse than going hungry.

When she received no reply, y/n shuffled out of the thick covers that were basically suffocating her (Wonyoung’s request, she couldn’t decline), and tried to walk towards the door in an effort to see if she was coming back.

Just as y/n was about to step outside of the room, she ran into a surprised looking Wonyoung with a tray in her hands. Y/n could see a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of presumably tea. She shuddered at the combination, before Wonyoung started scolding her.

“What are you doing out of bed y/n? I told you to stay under the covers, you need to be calm and hot to get better!”

Her eyebrows furrowed adorably as she guided y/n back to the bed, trying to balance the tray in one hand.

“But I’m already hot.”

Y/n smirked as she winked at her girlfriend, who just placed the soup down, before pushing her into the mountain of blankets.

“Ouch! You aren’t supposed to hit sick people! You should be gentle with me.”

Y/n pouted, whining and burying herself deep into the covers. Wonyoung could help but laugh at how cute her girlfriend was with only her eyes and the top of her head sticking outside of the thick blanket.

“Please, I just barely touched you. Plus, who’s fault is it that you got sick?”

Wonyoung could basically feel y/n roll her eyes at her.

“Stop blaming me! I just wanted to be romantic…”

Y/n mumbled the last sentence, a heavy blush rising on her cheeks. Despite dating for over three months already, y/n still felt shy with things like these. This was her first relationship, so she wanted to do everything right. It didn’t help that Wonyoung was just so stunning it made her flustered just looking at her.

“Oh? Is someone blushing?”

Said girl teased, a smile on her lips.

“Shut up…It’s just the cold, it’s- it makes cheeks red…and stuff.”

Wonyoung laughed at the older girl, slipping into the bed as well.

“W-what are you doing? You’re going to get sick!”

Y/n exclaimed, the blush on her face increasing significantly. Wonyoung just pinched her cheek, snuggling towards her.

“I don’t care, you’re just too cute to leave alone.”

Y/n had to admit that she really liked it when Wonyoung treated her like this. She usually tried to be the proper ‘unnie’ in their relationship, so it felt nice being treated so softly.

“What about the soup? It’s going to get cold.”

Y/n asked, her voice muffled by the younger girl clinging to her like a koala, despite being taller by several centimeters.

“You can eat it later, for now, let’s just cuddle.”

Y/n let out a quiet “okay”, wrapping her hands around Wonyoung waist, placing her head underneath the younger's chin.

She could feel her soft breaths on her face, slowly lulling her to sleep.

Y/n had changed her mind, being sick was the best.

-end-

[changelingsandothernonsense]

Wips on a Thursday

Ooo catching me just as it turns Thursday! We have almost done art and some writing today! Thanks for including me @mareenavee and @thequeenofthewinter (I apologise, my tumblr is on the fritz and I think this post is very, very broken) tagging @paraparadigm, @friend-of-giants, @snippetsrus, @thana-topsy, @tallmatcha and @saltymaplesyrup

Art first!

Under a cut for longness because I'm a colossal asshole. Stuff about volcanos and annoying Veleth.

And Writing from Chapter 6

The walk back to town took twice as long as it should have, apparently the ash spawn still roamed the frozen ash wastes, just not as organised units. They were painful to deal with, tedious, but stupid on their own. His sword cut through them like fresh scuttle. Their constant attacks served only to slow him down. He didn’t have time for this! The walk back towards the Bulwark’s main entrance had taken almost two hours, and he could feel the positive effects of the potions he’d taken prior begin to wane. Exhaustion pulled at him, he needed to locate those scouts, and he needed to do it soon.

The streets of Raven Rock were silent, as should be expected this late in the evening. Most of the town’s residents having turned in for the night. Now, if he was Ramodo, where would he and his little group hide? There was a series of old buildings on the far side of town, most having been destroyed in the wake of Red Mountain’s eruption. Vvadenfell’s great volcano’s fury reached even this far north. The entire southern section of the island had laid right in the path of Red Mountain’s colossal pyroclastic blast. Each subsequent eruption further buried the island, baren ash wastes replaced the Hirstaang Forest in less than twelve hours. Silence still engulfed this place, poisoned the waters, it was like time had stopped. The eruption and subsequent carnage drove the Imperial forces off the island permanently. Teldryn smiled to himself, maybe that masked bastard got what he really wanted after all. Had the Sharmat really won in the end? After everything he, no they went through to stop his madness. Red Mountain changed everything; he couldn’t get the carnage out of his head. He wasn’t even there for most of it! Maybe that’s what haunted him the most.

The fact that he never tried to stop it.

No, he couldn’t afford to go down that road again. Not right now, not when he had so much to do.

But you were told not to. Commanded not to interfere. You know that it had to happen.

No! Stop this! “Get out of my head!” Teldryn growled under his breath, he clenched the side of his helmet, he’d had just about enough of this constant badgering! It was a pointless request on his behalf. He knew he’d never be rid of him. He didn’t have time to dwell on this! Now if he was Ramodo, where would he hide? Teldryn looked ahead, the wind was really starting to pick up, and the air was beginning to sour. The acrid scent of sulphur and something else burned at his nostrils pulling him from his tumultuous thoughts. An ash storm was coming.

The town centre was blissfully silent, the stalls that circled the town bazaar were barren and grey. Wood weathered from the salt that blew in from the sea, it had faded the orange canvases that adorned the space. From above, the first particles of ash were beginning to fall. It fell like snow, slow, lazy, almost taunting. He held his hand out catching some of the substance on his gauntlet, it turned to fine dust almost immediately. This would complicate things. The silence was cut by the loud jingle of armour, he wasn’t alone.

“At ease, soldier!” Teldryn stiffened and turned to face the captain of the Redoran Guard. He sighed, hoping he was just disguised enough for the captain to merely bark some meaningless order at him. He put on his best guardsman act and saluted the stern elf that stood before him. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to actually talk with the man.

“Late to patrol again, Hlas? You know I’ll have to put this on your record,” Modyn Veleth scolded, Hlas? So that’s whose armour he’d taken, “I see you’ve finally managed to locate your armour.” The guard captain looked Teldryn up and down, the mer was almost a head shorter than him, his face harsh and thin, the dark grey skin dry from the arid, cold environment of southern Solstheim. A chunk was missing from the top of his right ear, an old injury from the Accession War. Another thing he neglected; something else he never tried to stop. The scarring crossed his face, ending at the corner of his mouth and partially disappearing into his neatly cropped beard, the hair was almost as dark as his. Modyn Veleth was a harsh man and his physical appearance reflected that, his eyes narrowed, was he talking? Teldryn hadn’t been listening.

“Did you hear me, soldier?” Veleth sounded frustrated, though when wasn’t the guy worked up over something? “I told you to keep an eye out for suspicious activity, do I need to discipline you again?”

The last thing Teldryn wanted to do was open his mouth. No, that would give him away, he didn’t even know what this Hlas sounded like. He moved to salute the captain instead. Wrong move. Veleth’s face contorted into a scowl, and Teldryn could feel a cough well in the back of his throat.

“Yes- yes captain,” he managed to choke out what seemed to be an acceptable answer. Veleth nodded before setting off towards the Retching Netch, what on Nirn was he doing at this hour? He must have said something to that effect because the guard captain stopped just short of the door.

“What I do on my breaks is none of your business, recruit,” Veleth’s tone was curt, annoyed, Teldryn had hit a nerve, “Now get back to your patrols!” The captain turned to open the door but stopped again, he glared at Teldryn, “Go change that scarf, you look like a disgrace!” He turned back to the door, “I’ll be expecting you bright and early tomorrow, Hlas, you just won yourself a month of latrine duty!” Veleth barked before pulling the door to the corner club open with a force that just seemed so unnecessary and disappeared into the squat adobe building.

A moment passed, two, three. Teldryn let out one of the loudest laughs he had in weeks. Azura’s mercy! What was that poor guard waking up to? A solid month of shovelling- gods he’d have to find whomever this Hlas was and buy him a round, maybe three. Well, if he wanted to annoy Veleth, and he did, so very much, that definitely did it! He would take that as a small win, a modicum of positivity in an otherwise desperate situation. Teldryn laughed so hard he erupted into a coughing fit. Wait ‘til he tells Geldis about this! Shit! He really owed that guard a drink!

Teldryn gasped for breath, gods did he need that! He paused for a minute to gather his thoughts. So, she did tell Veleth about Sigrun’s ambush. He readjusted his scarf and smiled. Good, good, at least the guard wouldn’t be caught unawares. Now, what was he about to do? Finding those scouts, that was it. He was going to search the ruined section of town. It was the most obvious hiding spot he could think of, which was specifically why he chose the caverns underneath the town instead. He’d found them once whilst wandering the island, it would have had to have been the first time he ever set foot in this forsaken place. He’d been someone else back then, curious, less…this though not all there even then. He’d kept what he found down there secret, it’s location only known to two other people. It was perfect. These buildings were not. Hang on.

[triskhellion]

While We Still Have Time

Rated: Teen (3.2k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Tags: POV Stiles, Road Trip, Song Lyrics, Cussing, Recreational Drug Use, Stiles & Derek Leave Beacon Hills, Getting Together, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Roscoe breaks down when Stiles tries to escape Beacon Hills. He calls Derek for help and they end up leaving together.

Soundtrack

Prompts: Mead Moons — Claiming, Herbs, & Rituals. Sterek Weekly — Trouble (and Pillow.) Sterek Fests — Road Trip to Anywhere. Sterek Bingo — Road Trip.

It was finally happening. He had a duffle bag with his favorite clothes, toiletries, a couple towels, and some other essentials in the back. A backpack with his laptop, a notebook, and half a dozen books he never got around to reading between all the monsters of the week last year and the Hunter bullshit this Spring. They’d been buried under various mountain of stuff and semi-dirty clothes, forgotten until his pre-Get The Fuck Out of Here cleaning spree. He wasn’t going to leave a mess for his dad to deal with. Unlike all those other times with far worse kinds, you mean? 

Yeah well, that’s why he was going. One of the many reasons, anyway.  

He had his wallet in his left side pocket and phone charging in a makeshift holder by the dashboard. Jugs of water on the floor and a paper bag with a few nonperishable staples and an assortment of sandwiches, snacks, and caffeinated beverages in the passenger seat. His pillow, which would be especially necessary when he’d need to sleep at a rest stop or something.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlist he’d selected to start off his journey. He didn’t even know where he was going yet, just heading south until he had to get gas or piss and then he’d decide. There’d been no time to waste. This need to get away had been building for a while now and when he woke up this afternoon — he couldn’t fall asleep until after dawn — all he knew was that today was the day. It couldn’t wait another week or even until tomorrow or something else would come up to keep him there. He just knew it.

So he’d started the first load of laundry and then speed cleaned and showered in the quickly tepid while it was washing. He went to the store while the second load was going and the first one in the dryer, which had everything he was planning to take. Then he packed his stuff, set the remaining laundry to dry, scrawled a note that was frankly more stream of consciousness than rational explanation, but at least ended with a promise to stay in contact “Love, Stiles,” and then he was off.

Miles ticked up on the odometer and pavement passed beneath Roscoe’s wheels. It was at once exciting and bittersweet. He was done with high school and, more importantly, 18 so it’s not like his dad or anyone else could actually force him back. Not that many of the old crew were even going to be in Beacon Hills for much longer. Those that hadn’t already left like Jackson, Chris, and Isaac did overseas or Lydia getting an early start in Cambridge. 

But unlike her or Scott and the others he wasn’t heading off to college or something like that. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore, was still stuck processing or at least dealing with having been possessed. As in he had to deal with it — the memories and nightmares and new little quirks that made him question himself — not that he was handling it in any particularly effective or healthy fashion. 

And so it was like it was expected, or at least assumed, that he would just stay here for all the shit the town and that fucking tree could possibly throw his way. Well, how about no? Again, he’d been possessed! He deserved a goddamn break. Or if not deserved (the little voice in his head had very different ideas about what he deserved) he fucking wanted one. Needed one before he broke anymore.

Stiles only wished he could take his dad with him. And maybe a certain Sourwolf if he was being honest with himself now that it mattered even less than it already did before. Those big, impossible feelings he never wanted to look at long enough to pin down. The pull he liked to pretend was just him being a hormonal bisexual teenager who was warm for the former Alpha’s form. That it didn’t matter because it hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’tmatter.

He thought of guarded green-hazel eyes, a clenched, stubbled jaw, and stubbornly crossed arms as he wailed along with Jim Adkins.

“The things we think might be the same, but I won’t fight for more. It’s just not me to wear it on my sleeve, count on that for sure.” 

Stiles snorted and shook his head. It was all too fitting, whether more for him or Derek or both of them equally he wasn’t sure. There were times, after all, when he’d thought that Derek also…

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. Famous last words.

Seconds later smoke was rising from beneath the hood of the Jeep. Always a wonderful sign. Fuck. No no no, please not now. 

This couldn’t be happening. Just another too vivid daydream, right? Or maybe he’d actually fallen asleep waiting for the laundry and this was simply a nightmare because of his nervousness about the upcoming trip. Haha, very funny brain! 

More smoke billowed out and there were sounds. Oh no. No no no. Fuck!

Stiles pulled off onto the wide shoulder, put the car in park, and snatched the keys from the ignition, hurling them onto the floor. Then he just sat there in silence with his head against the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even made it 30 miles and it was already over. There was always something. Some kind of trouble, like clockwork. Like a curse. 

He’d worked over senior year and into the summer, doing odd jobs and seasonal gigs to save up the money that he was now planning to use for gas and cheap motels and food. That he’d already spent part of on getting Roscoe some much needed maintenance and repairs over the last few months. Not enough, apparently. 

After smashing his head into the horn so that it blared obnoxiously a few times he pulled himself upright and scrolled through the contacts on his phone like he had options. Gone, gone, doesn’t have a car, gone, doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a license, don’t want to talk to him and have to explain anything right now. 

Stiles sighed. Well, he didn’t want to call his dad at the moment either — with any luck he could at least get home before his failed escape was revealed — so that left only one person. Of course it went straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, Derek. So funny story, I’m about 28 miles from town on the highway heading south and my car broke down. Yes, yes, I know. So, um, if you don’t have anything better to do, you think you could come get me? Let me know either way. Uh, catch you later.”

He wondered how long it would take to walk back to Beacon Hills. 10 hours? What if he just took the backpack, removed some of the books and added a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a towel and just kept walking south. Maybe he could hitchhike.

By the time he dug into the secret compartment in the lid of a jar of peanut butter and pulled out the little baggie of weed his hands were shaking. He’d gotten it from an acquaintance of Danny’s — the guy really could hook you up with just about anything —  and still had some left. Enough for now and a few times more.

He retrieved the rest of his supplies and crouched down on the other side of the car, calming as he performed the little ritual of rolling his own joints. Of lighter and flame. Burn, inhale, hold, exhale. Taking the edge off. Lightening him up. What if he just walked into the trees and disappeared. Became one with the forest like whats-her-face in Annihilation who was done with fighting the freaky bullshit and just noped the fuck out. If only.

17 minutes later his phone chimed.

<Sourwolf: Be there in 30.>

Stiles responded with a thumbs up emoji. Alright. Okay. He took a few more hits and snuffed out the end, saving the rest for later.

Derek’s face did all sorts of things when he got there, half of them with his eyebrows alone. How did he ever used to think the man was unreadable? Devoid of emotion except anger?

Obviously, he’d smelled the marijuana, but Derek didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Hey handsome, think you can help a damsel in distress?” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes and sticking out a leg like he was pulling up the hem of a skirt before bursting into giggles. Derek shook his head and popped the hood on Roscoe. 

“Since when were you a mechanic, big guy?” He set a hand on a leather-clad shoulder. It’s August you silly goose.

“I know a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you do,” he vamped, leering exaggeratedly and then abruptly pivoting to walk to the back of the Jeep where he set his forehead against the cool glass. What the fuck are you doing?

Burning everything down around him apparently. He started chuckling, a dark, sharp-edged thing, and Derek looked over at him with concern. 

“Stiles?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just falling to pieces.” 

He sat down hard on the ground and cracked right up, laughter turning to sobs as footsteps crunched toward him. 

“I thought I was actually getting out, Der. I tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t. I can’t,” he got out between gasping breaths. 

Derek crouched down beside him and started rubbing his back, tentatively at first and then in long, soothing strokes. His head moved and Stiles could swear he felt a kiss at the top of his head. Or something like that. He found himself practically head-butting Derek in his stupid muscly chest as he leaned into him, hands grasping at his left side and right elbow. Oh, he was going to be so embarrassed about this later. Derek took a deep breath.

“I’ll take you.” 

“What?” Stiles’ head jerked up, tear tracks drying on his face. 

Derek nodded toward the Camaro. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

The werewolf shrugged. 

“Yeah. You’ve got your stuff packed and everything.”

“But what about you? We have to go back, get your things and a tow truck for Roscoe and—“

“No,” Derek cut in. “I can just grab what I need on the way. I’ll have Malia, actually no, Mason, check on the place and I can call now about getting your Jeep towed to your house.” He raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “I’ll give ‘em your dad’s number in case there’s any issues. But no going back there now or something will happen and you’ll never leave. So let’s just go.”

Stiles clambered up from the ground feeling strangely light and warm. Hopeful. And still kinda high he supposed. While Derek made that call he rearranged some of his stuff and then took all of it out it of Roscoe, putting the duffle bag in the now open trunk of the Camaro — it was so getting a name on this road trip — and throwing his backpack, pillow, and snacks in the back seat. 

“Shotgun!” he yelled, completely unnecessarily before getting in up front. Derek squinted at him and shook his head, getting behind the wheel. 

The sun had just gone down, but it wasn’t dark yet and he caught his beaming reflection in the side mirror. Stiles hooked up his phone to the stereo. 

The chorus of “Work” came blaring back to life just as Derek put the pedal to the metal and peeled out of there (after carefully checking the mirrors and blind spots of course,) tires kicking up dirt and gravel. “You wanna take a ride? Get out of this place while we still have time.”

The Camaro even fishtailed some pulling back onto the pavement and Stiles smirked, pretty sure that display of Fast & Furious-ness was for his benefit. He grabbed the Oh Shit handle and whooped. Now he was off! They. The both of them.

“So where are we going?” he asked a few minutes later when his heart rate had returned to what passed as normal for him. 

“Wherever you want,” Derek replied, a bit too conspicuously. 

Wherever. Where. Ever. 

Stiles’ left leg began bouncing up and down and he turned away to gaze out the window, eyes unfocusing so that the trees blurred into one continuous spiny ripple. He was hearing what he hearing, right? I mean, he was pretty sure. 

But if there was a 10% or even 3% chance that Derek would turn this car around or like, jump out the window of a moving vehicle in horror at his feelings and desires he didn’t want to risk it. No matter how much he wanted…whatever. Because if this trip ended before it even began Stiles didn’t know what he would do. How he would survive or if he—

A large hand clamped down to still his jittering. Warm and squeezing just above his knee. The inner side of his thigh. Without looking — he couldn’t okay, not until he knew he wasn’t wrong —  he “casually” put his left hand, palm up, a bit higher up on his leg. Derek laid his own on top of it, thicker fingers twining with his. Holy shit. Okay. 

Stiles turned slowly then, hardly daring to breathe, and met glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it felt like something in his chest, in his soul, rearranged. Stabilized. A pack bond snapping properly into place. He rubbed over his sternum with his right hand as Derek inhaled sharply and then wrenched his attention back on the road since he was driving and all. 

Whoa.  

There’d been lots of upheaval over the last few years. Being Scott’s, Being both of theirs. Derek giving up his Alpha spark for Cora and leaving, the Nogitsune, things being all fucked up and not feeling like he belonged to anyone at all. Derek coming back, but them both out of sorts and dealing with their own shit amidst everything and him being confused and isolated and not really open for connection. Had to close the door. 

Their bond hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been right either. And now…

Already he was feeling more settled. Stronger. Content even after they claimed or re-claimed each other as pack or whatever exactly that was. Stiles cleared his throat. 

“How about Reno?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but then broke into a grin. 

“Sure.”

Several more moments passed with his brain trying to regain functionality and Derek looking at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Stiles flailed and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled up the routes and selected one for directions. That done, he started looking up stuff about the city. Places they might want to eat or walk around.

About halfway there his dad called and he took a deep breath before answering. They talked for a while, Derek hearing everything of course, but Stiles had shaken his head no when he mimed pulling over. It’s not like the werewolf wouldn’t hear just as much anyway unless he ran off a good ways and that would just be silly. 

Stiles wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised at the clear relief in his father’s voice when he learned that Derek was now going with him. 

“You two stay out of trouble, alright? Derek…”

“I’ll look out for him, sir,” he responded loudly.

“Good man.” 

Stiles watched Derek duck his head a bit, bunny teeth peeking out as he smiled. God, he was adorable when he let himself feel things.

“Okay kiddo,” his dad said, addressing him again. “Well, I hope you get what you need out there. I’ll just be here enjoying the peace and quiet and bacon burgers every day—“

“Daaad,” he groaned as his father laughed. 

“Just kidding, son. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Dad”

“Alright, Love you, have fun.”

“I love you t—”

“But not too much fun.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“Bye!” he yelled, hanging up. 

They stopped at a drive-thru for some hot food on the outskirts of Reno. Burgers and sodas with curly fries, of course. It was around midnight when Derek pulled off at the next turnout, overlooking the city. They ate half-sitting, half-leaning against the warm hood of the Camaro. 

Stiles was going to propose going down there and gawking at the late night antics for a bit (unfortunately, unlike some places in California he was too young to play a few slot machines here and see if his luck really was turning around.) Then finding somewhere to sleep. A motel room. With Derek.

There was a flash of heat in his belly and it became a bit of a struggle to swallow his current bite of potato-y goodness. He managed not to choke as he blushed at where his imagination was heading and felt very accomplished.

Derek looked over at him, nostrils flaring, and reached out to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth with a thumb. Not quite daring enough to take it into his mouth, Stiles leaned into his palm and those searching eyes first softened and then focused intently. In the blink of an eye Derek’s face was much closer, but not quite touching his. Warm puffs of breath tickled his skin. 

He closed the gap and then they were kissing. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and tasting, and then something deeper. Hungrier. Derek was the first to pull back, grinning and leaving him breathless, but craving more. If it was left up to him he probably would've kept going until they both passed out. Or just him, who was he kidding. Damn werewolf constitution.

They turned back to the shining oasis in the darkness, flashing lights and neon signs, and he sidled up to Derek, who then put an arm around his shoulder. Slotting into place like puzzle pieces. A satellite passed by overhead, but he wished on it like a shooting star anyway. Please let this be real. 

Stiles snuggled even more into Derek’s side and breathed him in, calmed by his warmth and  woodsy scent as if he were a wolf himself. He closed his eyes to the sound and vibration of pleased rumbling, comfortable and pondering the possibilities opening up before them. 

The crunch of balled up wrappers and other garbage being placed in the bag that their food came in had him jolting awake. He must’ve dozed off for a while. God knows he needed it. 

Derek smiled at him, one of those special fond ones that Stiles had collected like rare treasures and placed inside his stupid little heart before forcing himself to think of other things. He didn’t have to do that anymore though, he could hold onto them and inspect them all he wanted. Do his best to get more of them.

“You ready?” Derek asked, holding out his free hand. Stiles took it and was pulled upright, where he stole a kiss.

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

Thanks for reading!

Previous (unrelated) fics for the Mead Moons event/series:

Second Chance Strays

Thunder

@sterek-and-stuff-events @sterekfests @sterekweekly @sterekbingo

[martiandmichelle]

New Queue

Hey everyone! I just started a new queue; it's "theme" is all nipple-presenting pics of me (Marti) posted here in the months of November and December 2023. There are 68 photos in the queue posting every 30 minutes so that's 34 hours beginning around 4:15 am (EDT) on August 20. We will also be posting our usual number of new and unpublished pics and gifs in between but these queues are a way of giving you something to look at whatever time of day you use Tumblr. We've posted hundreds of pics and gifs here and we know what a pain it is to scroll back to see them all so this gives you the chance to see them without all the scrolling.

A couple of downsides to the queues: I'm just posting pictures and not giving the text around them - it would take forever to set up. I'm trying to come up with a way to give you something to read to learn about us - maybe through a secondary blog. (New posts will still have text!) The second problem is, of course, this queuing buries new and original posts even further down the list. Perhaps if I give new stuff a tag of "new" for you to list? We'll work something out and any ideas you have please send them our way.

I think the next queue will be pics of all the other ladies from both Mountain Media and Studio M in all of 2023.

Kisses, Marti

[fightingthetides]

'small things' for Yamamoto <3

[Original] ||Accepting|| @ukigumos From a meme tag in my other blog

Readmore, because it got long (~18k) when I went through canon source, because there isn't too much content for me to go through in threads (yet).

When thinking about Hibari, you mostly think about his grouchy cat-like temperament, but there are sides to him that make him an interesting person to figure out. Sure, he’s got a temper and sure he seems uncaring at first, but that’s not necessarily true- if you know where to look. Each person has various facets to them, ‘duality’ if you will.

There were some memories that Yamamoto had of Hibari that could give others some insights into the otherwise ‘fightophile’ skylark that everyone feared (for good reason).

To begin with, the time when the Ring battle between Vongola 10 and the Varia were going on, Hibari had left some lasting impressions on Yamamoto. What sorts of impressions you ask? Haha! Alright, alright, he’ll tell you.

During his battle with the Gola Mosca, anyone could tell just how formidable it… no, he was? Man, the arena sure looked intimidating. There were gatling guns around the perimeter that would shoot any moving object it sees within 30m radius, pressure sensitive mines buried underground, and the walls were entirely covered in barbed wire.

Hibari, named the strongest of the guardians, is their ace. The way he walked into the arena so calmly and confidently—man… he’s just really cool! Gola Mosca could fly like some kinda jet pack fighter all Zuzuzuuuuuu, and Hibari went bakbak!

That was it.

So anticlimactic, but that’s what makes him so cool. He walks in, wins without breaking a sweat, and hands the ring off. That really was what gave off a dominant stalking black panther vibe to Yamamoto.

“Now, you, the one sitting over there. Come down here. Until I bite you to death, monkey boss of the mountain of monkeys, I can’t go home.”

This fight was way more interesting to watch. Xanxus stepped on a landmine and used the propulsion to launch himself to the side. He drew Hibari into the line of fire of the gatling guns, but both of them seemed unperturbed by the nuisance around them. The only thing on their minds was to fight- and win.

Hibari managed to force Xanxus to raise an arm in battle though he said he won’t raise an arm. Pretty sure he fought aiming to force him to raise an arm to gnaw at his pride a little bit. Just a theory of his.

Gola mosca started going crazy then after having shot Hibari in the leg.

Some stuff happened after that but… that’s not really relevant right now.

The next thing that happened during the Ring Battles was when everyone was poisoned by the uh… huh, they never were given a name, were they? Whatever it was! They were all poisoned with something that could subdue an elephant- but that’s not enough for Hibari!

Yamamoto distinctly remembers hearing the heavy sounds of metal slamming into metal as Xanxus and Tsuna were having their own battle. That stubborn guy really managed to get himself up onto his feet, beat a pole to death and free himself of the poison.

He then fought Prince Belphegor, the genius. He couldn’t see the battle happening himself, but he knew that Gokudera was helped by Hibari’s quick thinking and swift actions. With him released from the poison, he could help Lambo.

The guy is secretly a team player when he needs to be. He came all the way to help Yamamoto get the Rain ring to be freed from the poison.

“You would mess up the discipline if you die don school grounds. If you want to die, go do so outside.”

That is so like him to say. Yamamoto likes to believe that Hibari was really telling him to get out there and do what he does best: be there for his friends as support. Even though he was beat up pretty badly, he still tried to move- probably to seek the others who were in need of help. That’s when Yamamoto suggested a player change, which he agreed to, handing off his ring to Yamamoto.

In the meanwhile Gokudera saved Ryohei and ye, the rest is history!

The stoic guy may mask some of his concern or care behind Namimori, but he does have the ability to work with others… on his terms. There was something about seeing him beaten but still silently intending to do more made Yamamoto realize just how much responsibility and drive Hibari had.

It was so much that even Yamamoto had to feel impressed by it. That’s their ace for ya! Leading by example, showing the rest of the guardians the kind of level they have to get to.

No wonder he considers them all as weak herbivores, huh?

(ref ch. 118-120, 127-128, 130)

-

What else was there? Ah! That representative battle with the little guys? He can’t forget about the time Hibari really joined another team JUST so he could have his fun in fighting strong opponents and also be unhindered by ‘crowding’. That is so like him, haha!

Hibari came out with a baby atop his head instead of one of his little birds. The resemblance of the two is uncanny, and someone may have leaked the information to the rest of them at one point that the two were actually related. How exactly, he didn’t know, but it seems that the bloodline runs strong.

Anyways, it really didn’t take long for Ryohei to have lost his ‘match’ against Hibari. Yanno how it is, Ryohei runs in head first, forgets about protecting the watch and loses instantly. Really speaks to Hibari’s focus, Yamamoto thinks.

He may like to fight, but he’s goal-oriented. He won’t forget about his task: defeating his opponents. Any opening to destroy a watch will be taken advantage of, even if it means the ‘fun fight’ comes to an end quicker.

“There was actually one other reason that I didn’t join your team… your team is full of people I really want to bite to death.”

Yanno? Yamamoto was kind of excited to hear that from him at first. He’s usually only ever referred to the guardians as weak bugs or herbivores, so acknowledging that he wanted to bite some of them made it seem like he acknowledged their strength a little bit.

Yamamoto really admires Hibari’s strength and his drive, so being regarded as worthy enough to want to bite to death (and it not being something related to having broken a rule to warrant it in the first place) was a good thing.

Okay, it’s also kind of a bad thing, ahaha! Yamamoto doesn’t know how to feel about having Hibari boring holes into the back of his head because he wants to fight.

As much as Yamamoto find challenges to be fun, Gokudera and he had their roles to play as support for their boss.

“You aren’t the same species as me, you’re just bugs. Weak little bugs.”

Ah… maybe he should take that back. Maybe he didn’t quite see them as worthy then. Maybe that’s just him taunting them, trying to goad a reaction out of them to rile their fighting spirit?

You think he’d answer if asked?

(Ref ch. 361 + 363)

-

Hmm… some other memory that made a lasting impression on him? Ah, there was that one time he found Hibari injured and had coaxed him into allowing being escorted to the hospital. On one hand it was shocking to see him injured to begin with. It wasn’t anything fatal, but it was still significant enough to be worrying.

Initially, Hibari was being stubborn in wanting to be left alone, to deal with his injuries by himself- but you know Yamamoto! He’s a stubborn one! Like one of those Shibas who will stamp their butts to the ground and allow their leash to squish their face beyond recognition as their owners desperately beg to go home.

Hibari has a nice view of Shiba Inus, finding them loyal and intelligent- which isn’t wrong! Many know them for their willful nature. They’re quite loyal and loving if you’re close to them.

He still thinks about it every now and then, but maybe it’s the whole tranquility thing, that allowed Yamamoto to slowly coax Hibari into allowing him to take him to the hospital. If you were to ask him, he thinks the big turning point is the apple rabbits. His tune really changed once Yamamoto mentioned cutting some apple rabbits for him.

Not only that, when they approached the hospital, he not-so-subtly reminded Yamamoto about the promised apple rabbits. Guess it’s true that the guy has a soft spot for cute little animals. It as a bit of ‘gap moe’ as Haru termed it.

“Hahi? Sure, Hibari-san is still a bit scary, but when he’s surrounded by cute birds or a little hedgehog, the cuteness factor cuts some of his scariness! He gives into them if they speak upon Haru’s behalf you know? It’s scary and cute!”

When Hibari asked if Yamamoto would allow it to be lonely, he honestly… thought it was kind of cute? For a guy who was a lone wolf and hated crowding, he was quick to suggest allowing the lone apple rabbit to have a friend. He did hear that rabbits were social creatures and should ideally be kept in pairs, and if that was the thought process, it was kind of cute that Hibari would be so considerate towards apple rabbits.

It was like he could see what Haru meant by Hibari’s consideration to cute little animals by listening to them or by wanting for them to have a companion to not feel lonely.

Now if only he could be that considerate towards his human companions, right? Haha! That would be a dream- or maybe a nightmare in Tsuna’s case. Poor guy would probably have a heart attack.

Now, Yamamoto had absolute confidence in his vision. As not only an athlete but a swordsman, his vision and his hearing were sensitive. He didn’t miss the smallest hint of a smile upon nudging the two apple rabbits closer together.

What neither of them would know was that both parties were thinking something was cute in that very moment.

It came as a surprise! Hibari and cute in the same thought? Gokudera and Ryohei both would rush him to the hospital for a brain scan if they’d heard him say so. Mn? Maybe Haru would agree with him?

Not gonna lie, it was kinda nice sharing apple rabbits together. It is possible to have a conversation with Hibari and it not evolve into: Let me bite you to death for [insert some kind of Namimori rule here].

Huh? Cheating? Look, Yamamoto can’t remember all the rules, okay? There are some real arbitrary rules there- like, ‘no crowding’!

Eh? What was so impactful about this? Ahaha! Yeah!

No, huh? Hahaha! YEAH! That’s all you’re getting from him!

Truly, Yamamoto isn’t beating the Shiba Inu allegations.

(Ref thread ehe)