#thanks for those good good tunes

[thoselittleboats]

BG3 text - Raphael (7/?)

[perhaps-mr-collins-has-a-cousin]

Extremely controversial opinion, but I think people who don’t have the time or energy or wherewithal to brush a dog should stop acquiring dogs with coats that require brushing.

[niff-of-draws]

jane prentiss on a string.

do you think god stays in heaven because he too fears what he has created.

[ducktracy]

!!!NEW REVIEW!!!

in a fitting twist of fate, we cap off the 2023 calendar year with, coincidentally, the final cartoon of 1941. perhaps best known for its 1947 remake Little Orphan Airedale, formally spawning the ever amusing Charlie Dog, Porky’s Pooch garners its own plentiful novelty through its mixed media backgrounds—90% of which are still photographs! a tale as old as time with a Clampett-ian twist, Clampett’s final cartoon with his “Katz unit” of animators follows Charlie’s Rover’s attempts to get himself a master: the terminally stubborn Porky Pig who wants absolutely no part in this.

[anoddopal]

When she first joined up with The Bl.ackbeard Pirates, Bun-Bun Silva was a reclusive husk of a person. None of them initially had the opportunity to properly engage with her, nor did they even really see her— the exception of that rule being D.oc Q.

He began to relay little jokes, anecdotes, and conversations he had with Bun to the others, which were always met with a baffled: “What do you mean Bun talks?”

[thedeadthree]

🎵 for Karolina!

HI HI ALYSSA I HOPE YOU ARE WELLL !!!! ty ty so much!! i have had her on the brain lately i miss her SOO much :')) <3

send me a ♫ + a character’s name and i will respond with a song that reminds me of them. send a ♫ + a ship and i will do the same.

✧ ― 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐈 -`. dua lipa.

if you're good enough you'll find a way / maybe you could cause a girl to change (her ways) / do you think about it night and day? / maybe you could be the one to make me stay

[otwdfanfic]

Ive been listening to your character playlists on my morning commute (cuz i desperately need more folk music and your playlists deliver delightfully on that lol) and on this particular listen i was absolutely sleep deprived (important context)

Hide and Seek got on and i was close to falling asleep, but HMMM WHATYA SAY woke me up like an alarm clock

Nearly fell off my train seat fr

Idk if this makes sense or is funny im still massively sleep deprived but to me this was hilarious LMAO

you on morning commute 🤝 me at 2:30am

sleep deprived and now listening to hide and seek

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[ham1lton]

EVERYTHING IS EMBARRASSING ?

pairings: max verstappen x podcaster!reader

faceclaim: taylor russell

summary: you run the number one podcast on spotify, agonyauntie, and your dream guest is max verstappen. too bad for you that he hates podcasts.

or the one where your podcast is max’s guilty pleasure.

author’s note: clearing out drafts.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,837,892 others.

yourusername: after a month long hiatus, agonyauntie is back with bigger and better stories. i’m excited to share the newest episode with you on all of the available channels.

please tune in so my mom won’t regret letting me drop out of university to pursue airing people’s dirty laundry on the internet. thank you xoxo

view all comments

user1: WE WON WE WON HELLO!!!!!

user2: will you ever top mango man? i don’t think so.

-> yourusername: trust me user2. we will.

user3: the way during the hiatus the podcast was still #4 on the spotify chart is crazy.

-> user4: WE COMIN FOR THAT NUMBER ONE SPOT YUP!!!

user5: prettiest girl ever. you need a youtube channel so we can see that facecard.

-> user6: she said she prefers podcasting to making videos because she’s awkward asf 😭

-> user7: real omg

-> user8: she’s so me.

user9: who is this 😻

-> user10: yn yln! she’s the creator and host of agonyauntie, which she started back in university. it was originally a radio show in which people would email her their problems and she’d tell them advice. it went viral when she did the episode of ‘mango man’ (just google it, it’s hilarious) and then she moved to a podcast format so it was more accessible. it went to number one and she’s halfway through s2. it’s so good!!! honestly you need to listen to the episodes.

landonorris: SO EXCITED YESSSS 🤩

-> user11: always at the scene of the crime

-> user12: how many fandoms is this guy in? 🤨

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

AGONYAUNT! season 2, episode 7.

[soft jazzy intro music fades out]

yn: okay, this next email is… wow. honestly, when i read it, i had to sit back, take a sip of tea, and whisper, “what the actual hell?” to myself. so naturally, i had to include it in the episode.

let me just read it for you.

[mock-serious tone as she reads aloud]

“hi yn, first off, i love the podcast. you’re literally the only person i trust to handle this because everyone else would either call me crazy or tell me to dump him, and honestly, neither of those options feel right (yet). anyway, here goes: i think my boyfriend is trying to become a bird.

i know that sounds like i’ve lost the plot, but please hear me out. it started small—like him watching a lot of bird documentaries and casually saying things like, ‘owls are the wolves of the sky’ (which i didn’t think about at the time because men say weird things constantly). but then he started doing… bird things. he whistles now. a lot. not cute whistling, yn. it’s more like he’s calling for backup.

then last week i caught him eating sunflower seeds—not out of a bag, but cracking them open with his teeth and spitting the shells on the carpet. the carpet, yn. he’s also been spending suspicious amounts of time sitting on the windowsill ‘for the breeze’ and called a pigeon his ‘mate’ the other day like they’re friends now??

but the final straw? he built a nest. like, an actual nest. i came home from work to find him on the couch surrounded by twigs, string, and what i think might’ve been my missing socks. he said it was ‘just a joke,’ but when i asked why there were eggs in it, he got all defensive and said i ‘wouldn’t understand.’

so now i don’t know what to do. do i confront him and risk him flying away (literally)? or do i just let him… become whatever he’s becoming? pls help me yn. i miss my normal boyfriend who used to just binge-watch love island and occasionally make me toast.

cheers, girl who might be dating a parrot.”

[pause for comedic effect]

yn: okay. wow. first of all, thank you for this email. genuinely, it’s given me a lot to think about. like, this man has gone full National Geographic, and you’re just… casually living with it? incredible. i’m so glad you came to me because i don’t think your friends would’ve taken this seriously enough, and frankly, neither will i, but we’ll do our best.

so. is your boyfriend trying to become a bird? honestly, yeah. sounds like he’s halfway there. whistling, befriending pigeons, eating seeds like he’s at a football match—this man is leaning in hard. and i have to say, the nest? iconic. horrifying, but iconic. he built an actual nest in your home. he didn’t just think about it; he did it. that’s commitment.

but here’s the thing: you have to ask yourself, are you okay with this? like, if you imagine your life five years from now and you’re still with him, is he going to be perched on top of the fridge, squawking about how you don’t appreciate him? or is this just a phase? because maybe it’s temporary. maybe he’s stressed, and this is his way of coping—some people journal, some people go bird-mode.

what i suggest is this: sit him down for a chat. calmly ask, “babe, are you going through something? or are you genuinely preparing to molt?” like, we need clarity here. and if he doubles down on the bird thing, you have a choice to make. either support him and start buying bulk birdseed, or set him free—preferably in a park, not near any major roads.

also, maybe keep your eye on those eggs. i don’t know where he got them, but i’d be concerned.

anyway, good luck with your pigeon-man. i wish you nothing but the best, and if it escalates, please email me again. i have to know what happens.

[transition music fades in]

yn: right, let’s move on before i spiral into a full TED talk about men and their inability to handle hobbies normally. honestly, this man saw blue planet one time and said, “that’s my personality now.” unbelievable.

[music fades out, next segment begins]

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by landonorris, ynsfanpage and 1,727,908 others

agonyauntie: our newest episode is out next week, here are three clues about what it will include.

(hint: the middle one is that our host will be involved. spoiler alert! 😉)

view all comments

user1: omg it’s MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user2: who tf is that

-> user3: exactly like yn said celebrities as guests

-> user4: he’s literally famous? he’s a formula one star???

-> user3: okay congrats

-> user4: ??

-> user3: girl idk what u want me to say idgaf abt that man 😭 good for him getting the krabby patty formula one or wtvr

user5: OMG MAX AND YN…

-> user6: new ship name needed asap

-> user7: new job application needed ASAP!

user8: omg what if yn and max get together? he’s her dream guest and she seemed a little into him om the live she did watching the f1 race.

-> user9: um he’s literally gay i just googled it…

-> user10? HUH?

-> user9: his fiance is charles leclerc i just read how they met on this gossip website called ao3. very cute. it also told me more about obama’s secret lover, some guy called harry styles. you should check it out.

-> user10: u grown as hell and u can vote. the world is a scary place.

user11: AND NEXT GUEST WILL BE LANDONORRIS LETS PRAY TOGETHER 😎

-> user12: lando we know it’s you take them glasses OFF!

-> user11: 🥲 🕶🤏🥲

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

author’s note: hi :) just looking for some feedback. send me an ask with what sort of fics u guys like. idk what to post. have a lot of drafts. also idk this will get a pt2. i just want it GONE! sorry <3

[viridescentelf]

Yandere elf x reader - Bath time :)

Character and Art belongs to @meo-eiru! Please check out her blog ✨ Another BIG thanks for creating him!

This is a follow-up to my last fic: if you want to read that one, click here. I'm not sure if I'll do another one, a bit out of ideas lol.

Warning: 18+ content, drugging, general nsfw, explicit

—————

The water stung your damaged knee. Silas was preparing something in a wooden pail, humming some tune, while you sunk deeper into the hot spring. The water brushed your chin, as you glared at the back of the stupid elf’s head, bobbing back and forth as he dunked colorful fluids from flasks into the bucket. His long, luscious hair was levitating on the water's clear surface, covering his butt.

You were so close to freedom. He told you he’s enchanted the area now, stopping you from leaving entirely. No idea how that worked, but he showed you by pushing you gently against an invisible barrier. Your cheek had squished against the unseen partition, like when a human tests their cat’s intelligence against walls in those videos. “To protect you”, he explained in his sing-song trill.

If you hadn’t been injured, you would’ve made it. Away from this maniac.

“Look what Mama made!”

Silas held the bucket under your nose, smiling serenely. The liquid was a mix of pinkish goop and specks of sparkles. Your eyes lingered on the strange soup, then turned up to meet his excited face.

“What the fuck is this”, you mumbled crossly.

“No swearing, darling!” He patted your head. He didn’t know what the word “fuck” meant, but he read that it is bad for children to use. “It’s my healing salt! Doesn’t it smell amazing?”

Silas kept holding it under your nose. It did smell good, damn it.

“It will heal your poor leg. Plus, it makes everything feel a bit tingly. Healthy for cleaning up down there.” He gestured to his crotch.

Fuck.

Without warning, he dunked the solution into the bath. The mixture oozed slowly into the clear spring. The effect of it was almost instantaneous. You felt the biting pain ebb from your limb and you sighed in relief. Elf magic was so fascinating. If only Silas wasn’t such a freaking psycho. You would love to learn more about it. And then go back home and sleep in a bed without tits in your face.

He was right about the prickly sensation. You felt a warmth pulsate down there, as you absentmindedly sunk deeper into the water. Your gaze blurred and you felt the comfort of the heat engulf you.

Silas pulled you to him and placed you in his lap. His towering upper body remained out of the pool, the breezy touch of his skin a great juxtaposition to the searing heat of the water. To be fully engulfed, he would have had to spread himself across the whole spring, leaving no room for you.

You felt him grow below you. The effects of the water seemed to work on his form as well. His cheeks blushed.

“Be good, darling.” He breathed into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Let’s heal you completely.”

Your leg was fine. You didn’t need any more healing.

Silas’ lips brushed yours, his tongue slinking quickly and entangling in yours. The potion and his saliva were making you go crazy, your lap roaring with want. It was impossible to bottle up.

The potion made movement slow. You were attempting to push away with the last of your wits, but it came across as you gently pressing his chest together. He misunderstood and held your face up to his breasts.

“Drink up…”, he trebled, leading your mouth to his hard teat. It was hopeless.

Your wet lips traced around it and you felt the elf jitter under you with excitement. His hands were softly trailing down your back and took hold of your bottom, squeezing the soft tissue. The water delayed his movement, but you felt him lift you slightly, hovering dangerously above his throbbing shaft.

You could feel him against your entrance, nudging slightly. The heat consumed you, thrumming in the area, wanting. You released your lips from his chest, gazing dozily into his red face. If he was blushing more, you could not tell. He looked so enthralled; the big, dumb eyes full of devotion to you.

Silas crashed into your lips again, kissing desperately, lapping up every part of your mouth. The more saliva you exchanged, the more you felt yourself pulsate. The waves within you crashed, begging for relief. You tried to use your arms to push him off of you, but they felt so limp.

You hated this effect he had on you. You couldn’t stop yourself. This surge and needing the release - it drove you insane.

Floating above him in the spring, you felt him twitch there in unfair expectation. He was far too massive for you.

Silas wrapped one arm around your waist, pushing you closer into his body. Your breasts compressed against his and he moaned shakily at the sensation.

“Mama will heal you, dear…”, he huffed after releasing himself from your lips, with bits of drivel escaping his mouth. “I lov-“

You couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on him, letting the beginning of him enter you with a strong jerk. He filled you up, with just so little of him inside. Your entire body shook from the flash.

Silas head knocked back; his eyes crossed as he let out the loudest yelp you had ever heard from him. He had never felt you like this before. He only dared milking himself in your sweet mouth, for fear of tearing you apart. But this… the feeling of your tight, velvety walls, the little he could feel of it was enough to make his world spin.

He instinctively grabbed your hips with a jolt and lifted you up and down on him. He wanted more of that sensation, more. More. More!

You were bouncing on top of him and felt every sinew explode with electricity. He bucked his hips slightly when you bobbed back down, but not too much in fear of breaking you, slowly deepening each thrust.

Although you could hear his pitiful “Ah! Ah! Ah!”s, your entire environment seemed to muffle. All you could feel was the inconsolable penetration. The way every jab made your groin burst into flames. The water splashed vigorously around you, as he guided your body into his. He lifted you like you weighed nothing. His head was still jerked back with his eyes in the back of his head, it seemed he was unable to do anything other than plunge halfway into you.

You couldn’t help but release low moans yourself, the note of your bellows making him tense up more. His large hands were clasping your ass, the flesh spilling out between his long fingers. You whimpered and let him consume you, every thrust splitting your walls further. The loud clapping of your bodies and the vigorous splashing, you were intoxicated. The sounds. The sensation. It was diabolical.  

You let out a string of deep moans, as you came, the wetness around his shaft increasing as you tightened your grip around him. Silas couldn’t hold it any longer, either, as he erupted within you, squealing from the overwhelming pleasure.

He spilled out of you. A puddle of white foam bubbled around you. Silas heaved loudly, blinking excessively and tilted his head back forward, staring dumbfoundedly at you.

He looked like you beat him up. Tears were escaping his rippling eyes, as a tiny sob hiccupped out of him.

Fucking baby.

“D-Do you feel better now? Have I healed you?”, he squeaked, pulling you into his arm cages again.

You rolled your eyes and nodded out of sheer vanquish. There was no point explaining to him that this wasn’t how you heal humans. There was no point explaining to him that mothers don't do this.

Silas kissed your head and swirled his hand in the water, making his semen drift away from you. “Oh…all the precious milk. Gone…”

He grabbed a sponge from behind him and started cleaning you feebly, his hands still shaking from the massive release. You saw a tear fall from his cheek. Without thinking, you brushed another one off his cheek.

He gaped at you after the gesture, pausing his scrubbing.

“O-oh darling. You really love me, don’t you? That’s why it felt so good…”, he smiled widely, more tears splashing out of his googly eyes.

You didn’t answer. You didn't know why you just did that.

Silas hugged you so tightly, you let out a wheeze.

“I love you too, my sweet!!” he squeaked and squished you more. “It’s getting late. We still need to have dinner! And you need a proper portion of milk!”

You closed your eyes, sighing.

Another milking session...

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ FIGURE EIGHTS

violet; 28,888 words; fluff and smut (at the end), semi enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi x figure skater!reader, ice dancers!meljayce, miscommunication, smau-intermissions, toxic ex!cait, simpgirl!vi, slowburn, the gays r bad at feelings, lots of making out that almost leads to something, emotional edging (for YOU lol), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), slightly unhinged!reader, no "y/n"

summary: a hockey player and a figure skater kind of, sort of, not really, but then actually fall in love. what could possibly go wrong? (narrator: apparently, everything.)

a/n: YALL. yall. YOU. ALL. lmfao. i can't believe i finished this (i say, after writing any fic longer than 5k words). but i TRULY doubted for a second that i would bc as i kept writing, it kept... getting longer? i hope that this doesn't drag, and that you guys like it. it's really a fucking labor of love. like heavy emphasis on the labor. shoutout to @vifilms for being my emotional support, and to my irl bf for actually physically reading through like 90% of this fic out LOUD with me to make sure the dialogue doesn't sound awk. BUT ANYWAYS. pls enjoy and PLS tell me what u guys think!!!! the smau fake texts won't start till chapter three, but ! it's my first time making like.. fake texts so sldkfjsd.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: party people

chapter one: shut up and kiss me

chapter two: fists to a knife fight

chapter three: love's dream

chapter four: for cup's sake

chapter five: don't hate the player (suggestive)

chapter six: six (nsfw)

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged for this series! :) if you're already on my vi-taglist via my normal taglist link, then you're all good. if you only wanna be tagged for this series, comment below! pls pls have your age visible somewhere on your blog as this will be an 18+ fic!!!! thank you!!!

prologue: party people

─── Ⅵ IT STARTS WITH A GAME of spin the bottle — a college party post-game, the home team the exhalant victors, the crowds of adoring fans the worshippers at their beer-tower altars, doing keg stands and shot-gunning cans of cheap bud lite for an approving grin or a wink.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you ask, jerking back as a drunken guy nearly topples into you, the red solo cup in his hand sloshing over onto the already sticky linoleum floor.

Mel sighs, “Because, darling, you promised me that you’d come out at least once if me and Jayce made it through the Challenger Series this year.”

She tugs you behind her, weaving through the crush of bodies till the cramped living room area opens onto a much larger patio, the mid-autumn chill cooling your skin.

“It was a joke,” you say, whining slightly even as Mel grabs what looks like an unopened hard cider from the table and presses it into your hand.

“Yes, and one that hurt my feelings,” Mel sniffs, turning her nose up, though a grin teases at her lips, “so to make up for it, you now have to stay at this party and have some semblance of a good time.”

And that was three and a half drinks ago, because sometime between then and now, you’ve found yourself pulled into an unwitting game of spin the bottle with what seems like half the entire hockey team, sitting next to Mel, her boyfriend Jayce on your other side, chatting animatedly with one of the girls hockey girls. You overhear the words “creatin” and “Bulgarian Squat” and decided that it’s time for you to tune out of the conversation.

“Vi, it’s your turn!”

Vi, your thoughts linger over the sound.

It’s a pretty name.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you, Number Six — you’ve always known her as that, what with the tattoo on her cheek (there were rumors that it’s actually not real and she just reapplies one of those temporary tattoos every two weeks) and the fact that it’s her jersey number, it’s really not too hard to remember.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. Her right hand’s bandaged up and you can’t help staring at it. When you look up next, it’s to catch her watching you, your eyes meeting in a startling clash of raw contact — the cacophonous noise of the party dulling out to a thin whine somewhere at the back of your head as you stare at her and she stares right back.

You’d never noticed that her eyes, even in the dark, beneath the dim, flickering patio lights, reads mourning-dove blue, so subtle it’s almost gray, so sharp as she takes you in that your stomach drops from inside you. She smirks and twists her fingers expertly around the bottle, setting it whizzing.

You tear your eyes away, your breath sent astray in your chest by just that look alone. You frown at the spinning bottle, your mind abuzz with fragmentary thoughts you can’t quite string along for long enough to form a full sentence — eyes… her lips are pretty… wasn’t she dating… someone? who??? what’s her name again? something pretty —

“— right, ice princess, you ready?”

“Huh?” you jerk your eyes up from the bottle to find everyone watching you. From your left, Mel nudges you with a sanctimonious grin, her eyes flickering down to the bottle and back up towards —

“Go on!” she hisses, even as you blink uncomprehendingly down at the bottle pointing right at you.

Across the circle, Vi’s questioning smirk is all the answer you need as your alcohol-addled brain finally puts together the pieces.

“R-right…” you push up onto your knees, but something holds you back, a niggling feeling in the back of your brain as Vi’s smirk grows wide and she jerks her head towards the living room.

“Want a bit of privacy? Or… would you prefer an audience?”

Half the circle wolf-whistles at the insinuation, the other half roll their eyes, leaning back on their elbows as if to settle in for a long night.

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth scald dry.

“Privacy. Please.”

You follow Vi stiffly from the patio back into the stuffy house, her fingers closing around your wrist as she tugs you behind her through a long hallway splitting off from the main living room, branching into a series of what look like bedrooms. Half the doors are closed, illicit sounds echoing out from behind them, but Vi finds an empty one near the end of the hallway and pushes it open, leading you inside.

“Oh wow,” you say, looking around the room. It’s a typical fratboy’s room, full of suggestive posters, the floor littered with questionably laundered clothes.

“What, not your ideal setting for a makeout-sesh with a stranger?”

You frown as your eyes slingshot back to Vi, her standing feet from you, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, watching you with dark, firefly eyes.

“Thought we were just supposed to kiss once.”

Vi chuckles, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides, crowding you up against the closed door.

“Sure. We can do that. Or…” she makes no effort to hide the way her eyes flicker down to your lips, trailing back up in a line of fire that sizzles against your skin. “I could show you what a real good time looks like.”

Your breath crystalizes in your chest, and the strange, tickling feeling traces down the back of your head till it gathers, hot and unconscionable at the nape of your neck — a spin-click wheel of half-formed thoughts and images ticking by behind your eyelids as you try to remember why the hell this feels so wrong.

And then, it clicks, and you press a hand to Vi’s chest just as she’s leaning down to graze her lips against yours, the friction so delicious you almost lose your train of thought.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Didn’t you just break up with that track and field girl? Caitlyn?” you blurt out, a culmination of all the snippets of whispered conversations and half-caught glances of the pair of them across campus. The It-Girl Couple, people called them, the hockey team star and the track and field genius. They were hard to miss, and even harder to forget.

A moth-wing-flicker of emotions crosses Vi’s face as she takes half a step back, her expression morphing into one of shock, and then hurt, and finally, hard-lined disgust as she looks down at you with a thin-lipped grimace.

“Oh fuck you.”

She yanks you from the door, storming out without a backwards glance. You catch yourself against the half-made bed, your breath coming in heaving pants as your head spins. Guilt curdles in the bed of your stomach like spoilt milk, and it only takes you half a second to realize that of all the things to say, that probably was the worst possible choice.

You’d heard mention of the breakup, even if you didn’t have any stakes in this so-called game. It was harsh and messy and loud, and it had spilled across campus like a backed-up toilet, oozing foulness and stank across the grounds till not a single person was left unstained in the aftermath.

“Wait —” you stumble after Vi, but it’s too late. By the time you reach the patio doors, she’s already settling back into her place in the circle, an easy grin slung across her lips.

You swallow, pushing through the door to scurry over to Mel’s side. Mel beams at the flush in your cheeks, convinced (just like the rest of the circle) that it’d been one hell of a kiss, judging by how entirely breathless you are.

“Damn Vi, you gotta learn how to go easy on them figure skaters, hm?” Margot smirks, her eyes glittering as she looks you over, “look at the poor darling — she can barely breathe!”

Everyone laughs, and Vi flashes a convincingly satisfied smirk, shrugging up a shoulder. You glance at her, only to shiver at the arctic ice behind her gaze as your eyes catch once more.

“What can I say? Easy isn’t a setting I come programmed with.”

You duck your head as Vi casts you one more frigid look before turning to laugh at something a teammate has just said, and the circle devolves into good-natured banter and pocket conversations. You gulp around your too-dry throat and pluck Mel’s drink from her hand, tossing the rest of it back in a single gulp. She blinks at you, eyes wide.

“Darling, are you —”

“I — I’m fine just — it’s — I think I’m gonna head back.”

Mel frowns, “Are you sure? I mean —” she looks towards where Vi’s been pulled into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with some dude from the football team, “you could try and —”

You shake your head, “No, I — I think I’m good. I had a good time, I just —” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Amara’s gonna murder me if I get there late.”

Mel stares for a second before relenting, a soft sigh on her lips.

“Alright, alright — go on then. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

You give her a tight-lipped smile, reaching out for a quick hug before ducking out of the party, skirting the edges of the growing mosh pit forming in the living room till you finally find yourself out on the front steps again.

You close your eyes for a second, pressing your back to the frat house door, feeling the dull thump of the music inside reverberating through the thin wooden frame as you breathe in and out.

You can still taste the heat of Vi’s breath on your lips, feel harsh sting of ice as she’d caught your eyes after. The chill air, once refreshing, pebbles your skin and an involuntary shiver shakes down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself and give your head a good shake.

Whatever, you think, stepping off the porch, casting your eyes up at the star-strewn sky, a whisp of warm breath fogging up the air before you.

Not like it’ll matter. Bet she won’t even remember me after tonight.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt

[bunnis-monsters]

Betrayal of the Queen

Part 1

Endings:

Forgive

No forgiveness(Kofi/Patreon Only)

Yandere Sons take out the old hive(Kofi/Patreon Only)

A/N: Hii, this was available to kofi/patreon early, and some of the endings will be exclusively there! Also, the relationship between you and your bee hybrid sons is completely platonic! It’s pretty obvious in this fic but I get weird questions and just want to clarify. Thanks!

They regret not appreciating your kindness and soft nature when they appoint their new queen.

She was taller, more lithe and graceful. They threw you out the second they saw her on the street. Your sons of course followed, shocked and devastated that their own fathers and fellow hive would do this to you!

You had served as the queen for nearly five years now, creating the new generation and caring for them with all your heart.

But you were a bit fragile, not able to bear as many young as the previous queen. The hive had loved you at first, adoring you endlessly, but when they noticed how little eggs made it to the birthing stage, they realized that you may not ever rebuild their hive in the way that they hoped.

They slowly began to stop caring for you as much, leaving your care to your sons. Some of the hive even went out and flirted with other females, leaving you to incubate those eggs with only your children by your side.

Most grew resentful, seeing you as nothing more than a burden to the hive.

By the fifth year, the only bees in the hive that had remained loyal to you were the very ones you birthed.

Your children disliked how you were treated, but stayed because taking you away may cause issues. Your safety was their top priority, but they were also deeply in tune with your emotions.

The hive stopped even pretending to care near the end, shunning you for not being a good enough queen. They buzzed around haughtily, being so bold as to bring other females into the hive right in front of you!

Your heart ached. At first you had truly loved that hive, sacrificing most of your human life and your body to bare eggs in a womb that could barely maintain them.

You had done so much, yet they didn't seem to care.

In their hearts they knew they were being cruel. But they were selfish and greedy, wanting the hive to flourish... but that couldn't happen with you around.

"She'll be banished."

Your sons stared at the council member in shock as they announced the decision. "Are you joking? She's the queen, you can't-"

"It states that if a queen is no longer fit to rule, then she will be banished and a new queen will be chosen. When a queen can't lay the right amount of eggs, she cannot function correctly."

One of your sons, the prince stepped forward, his wings buzzing threateningly. "You've treated her like garbage for years, and now you're going to abandon her? Is that really how we treat a queen?"

"Hardly a queen, if you ask me."

A female said, crossing her legs. The prince turned on his heels, hissing. "You shouldn't even be in this hive, the queen is the only female allowed-"

"She's not the queen anymore. Get her out and leave."

The bee hybrids watched in awe as every single son of hers stood. "If she leaves, we leave with her. You've all become so greedy, taking advantage of our mother and pushing her to her limits and expecting her to just roll over and take it. You're a disgrace to the bee hybrid name."

You were in tears when your crown was taken, crying into one of your son's chests. Your sons took up about 1/3 of the hive, and left with you.

The new queen had been already lined up to take your place. She was thin, tall, and beautiful, all that they could have asked for.

But she was also manipulative and cruel.

"The drones? Do we really need to help them? They're replaceable, aren't they?"

She crossed her legs, staring on in boredom as a worker bee reported to her. "But my queen, the drones are stuck in a storm, shouldn't we at least try to help them?"

"Of course not, I don't really care if they live or die.

I'm the queen, the most important. Shouldn't you just be happy I'm here and producing eggs?"

It quickly became obvious that the new queen cared not about her subjects, only about expanding her power and rule. The people starved, the babies hated their mother. She refused to even look at them once they were born, moving on to start another clutch.

The new queen picked only the most handsome and fit bee hybrids to mate with, creating only a small gene pool. This meant that the ones she mated with were constantly tired, and the others were increasingly sexually frustrated.

A few bee hybrids sat in a common room, depressed.

"Remember when the old queen would come down here and listen to our woes? She would mate with all of the hive, not just a select few..."

"The old queen made sure that the elders were taken care of. Not a single senior was left behind."

"She was so warm and soft, the new queen has no warmth in her body or soul."

They missed you.

But could they ever say they deserved you back?

Thinking of the years of neglect and mistreatment, of how they had taken your love and kindness for granted…

It all came to an end when the queen came before the council. She was as cold as ever, her eyes empty as she spoke.

"Thank you all for making me your queen and being so... stupid."

Her vacant eyes glanced over the room, and suddenly the smell of decay became almost overwhelming as her body began to wriggle and shift.

"That previous queen of yours had been keeping us at bay for nearly five years, and you let us in easily."

The new queen was ripped apart, parasite wasp larvae falling onto the ground and wriggling towards the nearest bee hybrid, attaching themselves and burrowing into their abdomen.

The room erupted into a frenzy of bees being eaten alive while others tried to escape. Even after leaving the room, several council members were seized by infected bees, taking them down with the rest of the hive.

Only around 100 members of the original hive survived, and while they flew away from the remnants of their home, all they could think about was you.

In all your years of being queen, you had been fighting to keep them safe. You tried so hard, barely able to lay eggs due to the intense stress of taking on the imminent threat of the parasite wasp hybrids alone.

You hid all of the pain, all of the work you did just to give them some peace of mind… and they repaid you by abandoning you when you needed them most.

You hadn’t failed them as a queen, no. They failed you as a hive. The hive wouldn’t exist without you, and had quickly fallen to ruin with your absence.

All they could hope for was that you would forgive them.

~

You smiled to yourself, one of you infant sons sleeping on your lap as your new hive buzzed around you. Without all the stress that had been piled on you, incubating eggs was easy.

“Mother, I’ve prepared your dinner.”

One of your sons nuzzled his antennae against your forehead in a sign of innocent affection before setting your plate on your nightstand. Even when they got older, they were still your babies.

Your sons had quickly formed a hive with you after you were banished, and now you lived a happy life with them and the new bee hybrids that joined.

Any bees that had been ostracized were welcome to join, and your sons personally interviewed each new possible mate of the queen to make sure they wouldn’t betray you.

After all, they loved their mom, and wanted you to be happy over anything else. They didn’t care if you laid eggs or not, they could spend the rest of their days snuggling with and taking care of you and be perfectly content.

But you wanted to have more children, to make a new hive where you’d be loved and happy.

Of course, any wish you had would be fulfilled. They set off and gathered any bee hybrids they could, wanting their mama to find her confidence in being a queen again.

It felt nice to be able to mate again, to be loved intimately. The new bee hybrids were loving and gentle, appreciating every soft curve of your body answ kissing away any tears you shed from your lingering insecurities.

Your sons worked on building a hive and producing honey while the new bee hybrids helped you with creating new children to add on to the hive. You felt like one, big, happy family.

It all came to a halt when the bees guarding the entrance to your hive brought forth an intruder.

You instantly recognized him as a council member from your old hive.

Memories of all the awful things they said and the circumstances of your banishment came to your mind, making your breathing quicken.

“My queen-“

“Don’t you dare call her that, you scum!”

The prince said, standing in front of you protectively “She isn’t your queen anymore, you made that decision yourself.”

The council member hung his head in shame. “… I know. Trust me, we all regret that deeply.”

You gently pulled the prince to you, giving his antennae a gentle caress to calm him down. Even if he was a prince, he was still one of your sons, and they were all angry on your behalf.

When you stayed silent, the former council member continued. “The hive… it’s gone. The new queen was a pawn for the parasitic wasps.”

This caused your hive to buzz anxiously. Many of the new members were from broken or destroyed hives by those hybrids.

Some were just little ones, torn away from their mothers, watching as the queens that birthed them were killed. Their tiny bodies trembled as they clung to your side, of course you had adopted them.

“Why do you darken my doorway, saying such things in front of the children?” you said, gathering the terrified babies into your arms. “You have no business here, I’ve been banished.”

“My queen-“

The prince was across the room in a split second, holding a knife to the former council member’s throat. “Don’t make me tell you again, scum. That is my mother, not your queen.”

You lifted a hand, and the prince backed away slightly, but stayed within arms reach. “… what about the new queen’s children?”

“… most of them were infected with the queen’s parasites. Those that we could save were in a dire state, while the rest perished.”

You let out a distressed whine, clutching one of the orphans' hands to comfort them. It wasn’t easy being a mother and hearing about the death of children.

“And what do you want from me?”

He took a moment to think before speaking. “Shelter for the children… they’re scared and hungry, most of them have severe injuries and illnesses as well.”

“… alright. Basil, please contact the worker bees and have them set up a temporary quarantine room, with enough room to accommodate 30 children.”

You sat back down on your throne, peering down at the former council member. He had been someone you had loved, even mated with years ago. A few of your sons were a result of that… yet in this moment you resented him and all the previous hive had done.

“I will only be taking in the children.”

Before he could protest, he stopped himself and stood. “I understand… please, do not hate them because of what we did. They are innocent in this.”

As you watched over the construction of the quarantine room, you occasionally glanced outside.

Your former hive members, at least, what was left of them was gathered around. They gave up their children, only wanting their survival.

When they spotted you looking, they stared up at you with remorse and longing.

They’d be staying nearby while waiting for the children to recover, and the threat of the parasitic wasps still lingered.

Would you ever be able to forgive them, especially if it meant joining forces and gaining knowledge to protect yourselves in a world that was changing rapidly?

Or would you turn your back on them, just like they had done to you? It was only fair, and how could you trust them when they already betrayed you once?

The choice was yours.

Which ending do y’all want to see first?

—————

SFW TAGLIST: @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96 @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @an-ever-angry-bi @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @xrenka @arcticat @v3lv3tf0x @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @joviaschaoticmind @danielle143 @roxy776699 @katsukis1wife @chaoticevilbakugo @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @articat @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @roxy776699

[mrsmandalorian]

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in  Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year. 

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece. 

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans. 

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime. 

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone. 

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience. 

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily. 

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience. 

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines. 

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers. 

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness. 

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.” 

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan. 

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk. 

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?” 

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun. 

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context. 

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing. 

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge. 

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow. 

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.  

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.  

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.  

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.  

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member. 

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do. 

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.  

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?  

Especially when that audience was him.  

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over. 

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm. 

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.  

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.  

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.  

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces. 

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally). 

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.  

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.  

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.  

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to  sex?” 

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive." 

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

[pomegranatesarchive]

better streamer | max verstappen

pairing; max verstappen x streamer!reader

summary; after getting completely demolished on stream by user; fartsnifer max makes it his life purpose to win a game against her. to bad he never does and they fall in love instead.

— fartsnifer has posted new photos!

liked by, charlesleclerc, and 57,924 others!

fartsnifer: very nice stream tonight! thank you so much to all those who joined 🫶🫶 and thank you to all of my new followers! welcome, you are now all official fartsnifers 🔥

view comments below!

user1: i love your content but i will not be identified as a fartsnifer.

user2: i too did not want to identify as a fartsnifer. i am now proud to be one 😕

user3: being a fartsnifer is a PRIVILEGE. be proud

user4: i’m sorry but i can’t take you guys seriously while you’re calling yourself fartsnifers 😭😭

user5: this is the girl who embarrassed the f1 grid in cod?!?

user6: this is her!!!

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1, @/landonorris, @/georgerussell63, @/oscarpiastri @/logansargent, @/alex_albon, @/danielricciardo

user7: bro tagged the whole family 💀

user8: LMAO CHARLES???

user9: how did he find her so quick 😭

user10: basically all of f1twt is talking about her 😭😭

maxverstappen1: @/fartsnifer check dms.

user11: MAX WHATTT

user12: willing to bet he’s asking her for a rematch

user13: that’s so ominous “check dms.” LIKE DAMN OKAY

user14: max just accept that she is better than you. it’s okay.

georgerussell63: well well well, if it isn’t fartsnifer herself.

fartsnifer: well well well, if it isn’t the guy who scream like a girl

georgerussell63: um actually, that was @/landonorris, NOT me.

landonorris: why are you lying?

user15: y/n replying to george and not max is killing me 😭

maxverstappen1: check dms.

user16: this is embarrassing max, one comment was enough

user17: i think he wants y/n to check her dms?

oscarpiastri: good game tonight! 👊

fartsnifer: thanks piastri!

user18: thank you oscar for showing y/n that f1 drivers do in fact have decorum 🧍

logansargent: don’t fraternize with the enemy Oscar.

maxverstappen1: check dms please.

user19: oh max…

user20: it just got even more embarrassing

user21: the way y/n is very clearly ignoring him is SO FUCKING FUNNY

user22: i love your content pls don’t die

danielricciardo: please answer Max’s messages.

user23: daniel did max make you do this???

danielricciardo: yes.

maxverstappen1: check dms.

user24: OMG MAX WE GET ITTTT

user24: y/n please answer his dms this is getting sad to watch

— y/n l/n and max verstappen have shared a collaborated post!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 392,839 others!

fartsnifer: join my stream tonight to watch me humiliate this 3x wdc!! 👊👊

view comments below!

user25: omg she actually answered his messages 😭

maxverstappen1: that is not the photo we agreed on.

fartsnifer: but this one was so much funnier!!

user26: oh i WILL be tuning in

user27: this is going to be the funniest thing ever

user28: strangers to lovers…

user29: OH BROTHERRR

landonorris: best buddy’s with the enemy now mate?

maxverstappen1: i must win.

user30: i love that photo of max

user30: the ways he’s just 🧍

charles_leclerc: woohoo!! go y/n 👏👏

georgerussell63: fake.

landonorris: she is the enemy charles!

logansargent: after she humiliated us on stream? i can’t believe this.

maxverstappen1: you sick traitor. after everything we’ve been through?

charles_leclerc: i like her videos guys 😕

user31: charles leclerc a official fartsnifer confirmed!!

user32: i was planning to sleep early today….but this seems more important

user33: oh but if i said enemies to friends to lovers…

user34: i would say you’re delusional!! 😝😝

— y/n has posted new photos!

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 583,826 others!

fartsnifer: life feels good when you don’t have to pay for your own dinners 🤤 @/maxverstappen1

view comments below!

user35: hasn’t it already been over a month 🤨

user36: i think they played again and if y/n won max had to pay her dinners for ANOTHER month

user37: they just want an excuse to keep in touch 😒😒

user36: oh most definitely LMAOOO

maxverstappen1: when did i get you sushi?

fartsnifer: like three days ago remember????

maxverstappen1: ah yes! i remember now

user37: max is literally traveling the world racing and still finds time to order y/n dinner online EVERY SINGLE DAY.

user38: he wants her so bad and you can’t convince me otherwise 😐

landonorris: can you play today?

fartsnifer: don’t you have quali today???!?!

landonorris: i mean after 😒

fartsnifer: yeah just tell me when

maxverstappen1: can i join?

user39: omg max no

user40: oh i just got the worst second hand embarrassment jesus christ

user41: that was the saddest sentence ever written

fartsnifer: ofc you can maximilian!!

charles_leclerc: you shouldn’t try this delicious italian restaurant! i’ll send max the address!!

fartsnifer: thank you charles 🫶🫶

maxverstappen1; don’t thank him 🙄 I’m the one buying it.

user42: don’t be jealous max…

liked by 273,827 others!

fartsniferupdates: queen fartsnifer herself was seen at the f1 austrian race today!! i think we ALL know who she was there for… 😉😉

view comments below!

user43: she flew to austria for a MAN ?? 🤨

user44: to be fairrrrr that man is MAX VERSTAPPEN so…

user45: they are so dating!! they literally left together and looked so happy

user46: i fucking knew it

user47: okay enemy’s to lovers…get it ig

user48: maybe y/n can let max win at COD now that they’re a…thing?

user49: y/n looks so good

user50: IKR!!! her hair is chefs kiss

liked by, landonorris, charles_leclerc, fartsnifer, and 763,825 others!

maxverstappen1: finally payed for her dinner in person 💪

view comments below!

user51: oh HE posted her?? yeah he’s in love

user52: he ruined his entire feed aesthetic to post a picture of her 🥹🥹🥹

fartsnifer: i don’t like that picture🧍delete please!

maxverstappen1: karma!

maxverstappen1: and you look cute 🙄

user53: OH!!!

user54: yeah they are definitely dating

landonorris: finally!! God you were getting to annoying with your “she’s so pretty.” “and she’s good at games.” “do you think if we started dating she’d let me win.”

maxverstappen1: delete this.

fartsnifer: too late!! i’ve seen it. no max just because we’re dating doesn’t mean i will let you win

maxverstappen1: 😕

user55: OMG SHE JUST CONFIRMED IT?? THEY ARE ACTUALLY DATING?? HOLY SHIT

user56: girl he literally flew her out to watch him race. ofc they were dating 😭😭

user33: I FUCKING KNEW IT!! FUCK YOU ALL WHO SAID I WAS DELUSIONAL!! WHAT NOW HUH??? YOU SEE THIS?? I WAS RIGHT!! AHAHAHAH

charles_leclerc: ❤️❤️

charles_leclerc: that was for y/n, not max.

maxverstappen1: geez thanks mate!

fartsnifer: love you charles ‼️‼️

user57: LMAOOO

user58: the way charles became a full on fartsnifer fan is so crazy

user59: he literally talks about her all the time too 😭😭 when he was asked what he’s been watching recently he answered “i’ve been watching a streamer named fartsnifer! she’s funny.” he’s so proud about it

georgerussell63: you are all traitors!! after what she did to us that fateful day? i can’t believe this!

fartsnifer: you literally invited me for drinks tomorrow?? 🧍

georgerussell63: SHHHH 🤫🤫

user60: max is dating someone who gos by the name fartsnifer….yeah i didn’t see this coming

. . .

notes: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed :))

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 9:33

Bakugou never believed he had room for love in his life. His world was defined by ambitions and goals he set upon himself—becoming Number One, proving what he can or cannot do, and making every moment count in the endless pursuit of the things that he thought would satisfy him for as long as he lived.

He knows what love is. He’d seen it in glimpses—his parents everlasting love, his friends falling over themselves for their crushes at UA back in high school—he knows.

But love wasn’t a luxury he thought he could afford, and even if it was, it wasn’t something he thought about often. Too caught up in the relentless wave of life.

At least, not until you.

He first met you on the job.

At that time, you were nothing more than his partner for this particular high-stakes mission. He initially rolled his eyes at the thought of working with someone new, but you managed to worm your way into catching his attention (and soon into his heart).

You weren’t too loud, flashy, or all bark and no bite like some of the heroes he worked with. You were sharp and methodical, always thinking two steps ahead, and your patience in the face of chaos was something he both admired and envied.

But admiration wasn’t love, not yet.

You were supposed to be just another hero to him—a capable one, sure, but nothing more than a colleague. Bakugou would never admit it aloud, but the way you carried yourself earned his respect quickly.

You weren’t one to back down, even when he demanded easy-fix solutions from you when it was nearly impossible given the situation. You’d meet his intensity halfway, standing your ground when you knew he was wrong—Bakugou thinks that the moment he met you, he’s never once been right.

It annoyed the hell out of him, of course, but it also earned his begrudging approval. It’s like meeting someone that could keep up with him.

He’s still getting used to that.

Still, it wasn’t love. Or maybe he was just in denial.

It started subtly, sneaking up on him like an enemy he couldn’t see coming—which is almost never because Bakugou’s been preparing for his whole life for as long as he could remember. So you were like a force that swept him off his feet, quite literally, when he remembers your first meeting, how you casually tripped him over all because he didn’t acknowledge your presence in the room.

Yeah, that one’s on him.

He began noticing things about you—little things he’d never paid attention to in anyone else. Like the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you were passionate about—like those little figurines you said were Hironos, or the way your voice softened when she comforted a frightened child.

He noticed how you always managed to keep your composure, even when the odds were stacked against you. You had this way of making everything seem manageable... no matter how dire the situation.

And then there were the quiet moments.

Like the time you made coffee for the whole team during an overnight stakeout, remembering exactly how he liked his: strong, no sugar, just a splash of cream. You handed it to him with a knowing look, and for some reason, that simple act stuck with him longer than he expected.

“Coffee?” you offered.

Bakugou looked at you as if he were like a deer in headlights. “Yeah, thanks.”

He’s not a complete asshole, so he says thank you.

Or the time you were patrolling together, and he caught you humming under your breath. That pop song that’s trendier to the younger generation these days. It was such a soft, absent-minded thing, but it pulled at something in his chest. He didn’t even recognize the tune, but he found himself wanting to hear more.

It starts small. Then it comes all at once.

“You good?” he asks after finishing the given task.

You blinked up at him, nodding with a tired yet triumphant smile. “Peachy.”

That was when it hit him. The relief that washed over him wasn’t just because the mission was a success. It was because you were okay. And the thought of a world without you, even for a second, was unbearable.

Bakugou was screwed.

He started looking for excuses to spend more time with you. Walking you home after shifts, claiming he was “going the same route” even when his neighborhood was in the complete opposite way. Bringing you snacks during long patrols, muttering something about how he happened to have an extra. Offering to spar with you during training sessions, even though he hated sparring with people who weren’t on his level.

He hated how transparent he was being, how obvious his feelings were becoming. But for once in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The night Bakugou confessed, it wasn’t some big, dramatic moment. They were sitting on a rooftop after a long day, the city sprawled out below them, its lights twinkling like stars.

“You free tomorrow?” he asks abruptly, the words gruff and unpolished, like they’d been dragged out of him against his will.

You turned to him, your brows furrowed slightly. “Depends.”

“I— you...” he muttered, staring straight ahead. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he struggled to find the right words. “I don’t know what it is about you, but… you’re different. You don’t take my shit, but you don’t try to change me, either. You’re just… you.” He finally looked at you, his crimson eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

“And I don’t wanna imagine this—any of this—without you in it.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression softening as the weight of his words sank in. Then you smiled, your hand resting on your cheek fondly.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Katsuki?”

If he weren’t uncharacteristically nervous right now, he would have made a wittier comeback. Bakugou’s chest felt impossibly tight, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was something warm and steady, something he never knew he needed until now.

“Yeah, so? Whaddya say?”

“I’d absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[player042]

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation. 

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks." 

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole. 

Something timeless. 

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.