#the cloud thingy in his hair :(((((

[gunsatthaphan]

kant has a point ig 😕

[blockedbykei]

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 !!

synopsis: every moon has their own star. and tsukishima loves his little star the best

— warnings: SO MUCH FLUFF, dad!tsukishima, made up name for his babygirl (literally just used google translate huhu forgive me 🙏)

tsukishima used to tolerate his mornings rather than enjoy them. when he met you, it started to become something he enjoyed, most especially when you both moved together and he got to wake up seeing you deep in comfortable slumber beside him, bodies entwined.

there was always something peaceful in the mornings— the soft muffled chirps of voyaging birds, the gentle glow of the sun basking your body through the window, his tired body pinning him down beside you, his muscles relaxed and melting against your shared bed.

his eyes blink the sleep off, a small yawn leaving his thin lips. you're sound asleep, a hand under your cheek, the other resting limply on his bare waist. tsukishima smiles softly, a hand reaching up to push a strand off your ear.

you don't move. he smiles brighter than the moon in the evening.

then he hears that familliar pitter patter of tiny feet across the wooden floor outside your bedroom. tsukishima perks up, nestling himself deeper into the bed pretending to be asleep. and on queue, his daughter opens the door, the silent creaks of the door a telltale sign she was plotting something mischievous.

and when he feels her tiny presence beside him, hovering over his back, he jumps and turns around, grabbing his daughter around her chubby waist.

"gotcha!"

hoshi's little squeals are akin to melodies, something he loves to hear every second of everyday. tsukishima carries her and sits her on his chest, his fingers squiggling on her mushy sides. he feels you stir beside him, eyes opening.

their smiles match and your heart swoons; hoshi was a little version of tsukishima, both eyes and smile— like halos over clouds. the hair was a mixture of yours and his though, and it seems like she was starting to get your complexion.

"papa, stooop," she giggles, little feet kicking at the mattress and pushing his hands away. "you're attacking me!"

"my no! i'm only giving you kisses," he rubs his nose on her belly. "you don't want my kisses?"

"i want them," you place your elbow on your elbow, cheek placed on your palm. tsukishima rolls his eyes, albeit playfully, and leans up to peck you. hoshi gags.

"ewie,"

"not ewie," you gasp. "is this...ewie?"

you and tsukishima lean to place matching kisses on either side of her cheeks, slightly wet to tease her. she yells, falling on her back and running away from your room.

breakfast was as energetic as ever. since hoshi has learned how to feed herself, she ate a lot as she did when she was a baby. it has always admired you; maybe it was something she picked up from you rather than her father, who, despite placing many food on his plate, ate less than you.

you stand in front of the stove, waiting for the beaten eggs to be cooked. tsukishima has hoshi wrapped around his waist as they emerge from the bathroom, the bottom of her face slightly wet. he was already dressed for work, white button down and neatly iron brown slacks, his matching blazer hung by the door; hoshi was already dressed in her uniform, collars askew.

he sets her down in front of the coffee table, facing the tv, and tsukishima sits behind her with hair ties on his wrist.

"can we listen to music?" she asks him, peering up at her father. "while eating breakfast?"

her love for music- it was something tsukishima has been plotting since she had been in your womb. those microphone thingies connected to your stomach was something he always used when he got home from work, blasting a new playlist, a way of introducing music to hoshi so that she'd be used to it by the time she came out.

miki matsubara revibrates smoothly in the living room. they both hum as tsukishima begins to comb her hair, splitting it in two. you remember his eagerness to be taught how to braid when hoshi was sound asleep when she was a baby, admiring her soft growing hair. so watching him flawlessly split each part into three and intertwine them made your heart turn into silk.

you place the finished eggs and spam on the breakfast table, sitting beside hoshi and resting your body on tsukishima's leg, reaching over to fix your daughter's collar. she thanks you, clumsily placing the chopsticks on her small fingers.

"you want ribbons on your hair, hoshi?" tsukishima ties the first braid, placing it over her right shoulder.

"yes please!"

"blue ones?"

"she doesn't have blue ones, honey," you look at kei, picking up a spam and feeding it to him. "she has pink ones though. you want that, hoshi?"

"yes!" she reaches over to the small box and picks out three pink ribbons. tsukishima carefully plucks it from her hands. "can i visit the museum today?"

you hum. "sure baby. i'll pick you up after school and go there if it's okay with papa."

"absolutely," tsukishima beams. "i'm gonna show you a little secret later, so you can't tell anyone, 'kay?"

her small "okay" felt similar to tsukishima's- slightly flat, though you could sense her excitement. when he finishes on both braids, he clips a pink ribbon on each pair.

when breakfast is finished, the dishes clink in the sink as tsukishima sets them to dry to the side. you grab the car keys, and hoshi stands beside you waiting patiently for his dad. when he emerges from the kitchen, hoshi brings something out of her pocket.

"what's that?" he crouches, eye level with her. she reaches out and clips the pink ribbon over his necktie.

"so we can match," she says. "if you take it off, i'll tell everyone the secret you're going to tell me later." her eyes narrow, playfully but he thinks is actually a real threat. tsukishima laughs.

"you get to hit me if i go home and i'm not wearing it," he kisses her on the forehead.

hoshi runs towards the car when you exit the house; her height, despite her young age, was enough for her to reach the latch and open the door.

tsukishima places a hand on your waist and spins you around, kissing you, lips soft and chaste. the way he looks at you has never changed, the same golden glint, same ardor, same mellowness; it was love incomparable.

it seemed to have amplified when hoshi came around.

"thank you for breakfast," he murmurs against your lips. "and thank you for hoshi."

thank you for hoshi was something he always said every day since she was born. it felt like an oath, a prayer he says to express his gratitude to all saints.

and before you could answer, the car beeps.

hoshi has leaned over the dashboard and reached her hands to press on the horn. her eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see her mouth gag playfully.

she also seems to inherit his easy agitation.

reblogs are appreciated! <3

[midnightarcheress]

another casino thingy with john price, bc why not?

cw: nsfw. masturbation, fingering, implicit exhibitionist price?, f!reader. idk shit about poker. 2 | more casino!141

you go to the casino again. not to gamble though.

at first, you were reluctant on showing up. it was nice of John to give you money for your services that night, and you couldn't deny the instant attraction lingering on your brain, but you didn't want to feel like a token, a four-leaved clover he picked out of the grass. also, you were convinced that your luck was a one-time thing, so why bother trying again? he surely found another charm to put in his pocket by now. 

however, those thoughts vanished from your mind when you heard a sharp knock on your door. 

you look through the peephole and immediately recognize the person standing in your hallway – mohawk guy. how did he...? your first instinct is to ignore him, but curiosity wins the fight against logic and you open the door.

"hello, bonnie." he smiles, "Price's waiting for ye," he blurts out before you can even ask anything. he's waiting?

for a minute, you don't think. your body moves on auto-pilot, scouring your closet for a decent outfit and smoothing down your hair to look at least presentable, as a stranger – Johnny, you learned – paces in your living room. 

the next thing you know, you're in the passenger seat of his car, one hand resting on your leg and thumb edging the hem of your skirt, driving downtown. you couldn't help but shudder at the tingling sensation of his fingers on your skin, and he just snorts at your reaction, amused. are they all this touchy?

thankfully for you, Johnny is a talker, so you don't have to do much work to pass the time. he tells you that John is actually the owner of the casino and that every friday night he hosts a poker game with some of his friends. that he and the boys – Simon and Kyle – help Price with the management and with making sure no one creates trouble, and that John hasn't stopped talking about you.

your eyes widen after his last words, earning a chuckle out of the scot and nearly making you forget the question that first popped into your head when you saw him at your door – how in the hell did he know where i live? but at this point, you're not sure you care. 

the light squeeze on your thigh alerts you that you've arrived, hopping out of the car and walking inside. the place is as packed as ever, but he leads you directly to the back, the same door as before. 

"there she is." John grins, already tapping his lap for you to sit, "now we can start." this time, you don't hesitate, happily obliging to his request even when a part of you cringes at your eagerness. you accept the glass of bourbon, neat, that Kyle hands you, and despite being too strong for your liking, you don't bother. probably tastes like John.

the first few rounds were tame, with low bets, but soon enough you see the flying 5000 chips landing on the table and hear the laughs getting louder, as he traces circles on your hip. you don't know if it's the alcohol coursing in your veins, the softness of his touch, or his hot breath on your ear, but warmth starts pooling in your stomach and your legs clump together to ease the tension.

John notices your squirms and devilishly smirks, enjoying your desperate attempts to forgo the desire building in you. "here, kiss it for good luck, Ace." Ace? his left-hand holds a chip up, as the right one sneaks between your thighs and pry them apart again, making you gasp. 

you timidly lean forward to press a quick kiss on the chip and instantly feel the heat creeping up your cheeks when his hand reaches your underwear. "you're so wet, Ace," he whispers, pulling your damp pants to the side. god, what is he... oh.

you try your best to be calm, not let the sensation of his fingers grazing your folds cloud your mind, but it's too much. your head tips back onto his shoulder, and any word that threatens to come out of your mouth and stop him gets caught in your throat. there's people around. everyone can see how much of a mess you are. and they... don't care?

his thumb gently rubs your clit as his middle finger toy with your entrance in an agonizingly slow manner, soft sighs escaping your mouth and eyes embarrassingly glossy focusing on the table. the game is still going, there's at least eight other men in this room, counting the players and the boys, fuck i'm– you bite back moans, gripping his forearm to keep him in place and to stop yourself from writhing in his lap. 

"easy, love," he murmurs, finally pumping his digit inside you, "such a greedy cunt." his tone is low, syrupy, dripping like honey over you and nearly making you cum at the sound of his voice. you nuzzle your face on his neck, muffling your whimpers and drowning in the scent of his cologne. "what's keepin' me from throwin' you on top of this table and takin' you right now, hm?"

"John–" you breathe out, coil on your belly tightening when he inserts another finger, hitting the spongy spot you were never quite able to reach, making you mewl with pleasure. his beard brushes on your neck and his warm lips trace your jaw, leaving an underlying burning on your skin that drops straight to your core. 

through half-lidded eyes you see the dealer finishing distributing the cards and the subtle twitch in John's mouth when he glances at his hand. your mind is too far gone by the point when they place the bets, too lost in the feeling of his frantic thrusts, velvety walls instinctively clenching around him to enhance the bliss.

the knot inside of you snaps and you cry out, limbs trembling in his hold and pure electricity travelling under your surface; it's intense, ripples through your core, heavenly overstimulating every corner of your body and sending your mind to outer space. 

you float back to earth and taste the metallic flavor in your mouth, bottom lip sore from biting too hard to prevent your screams. John nudges you back to reality with a kiss on your temple, "such a good girl, love." he flaunts his cards in front of your eyes, and after a few attempts to refocus your vision, he gloats, wide smile and lustful eyes directed only at you, "just won me thirty grand, Ace."

i'd love to write more of this casino universe but i'm very much lacking in the ideas department lol

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit

Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!

A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;). 

Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old) 

5k words

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie. 

This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover. 

You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof. 

Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands. 

Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie. 

God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way. 

When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air. 

"Hey sweetheart." 

The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book. 

"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie." 

You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out? 

Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again. 

"So, where's the little boyfriend today?" 

"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.

His grin widened at that. 

"Oh, that's such a shame." 

He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said. 

It was like he'd read your mind. 

"He wasn't good enough for you anyway." 

"You think?" 

He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.  

"What you need is a real man." 

Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back. 

You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man. 

Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication. 

Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure. 

Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do. 

Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it. 

Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place. 

So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!" 

Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps. 

"Yeah sweetheart?" 

Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame. 

"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful. 

Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet. 

"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut. 

Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck. 

"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on. 

"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close. 

Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents. 

"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question. 

"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it." 

"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs." 

Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement. 

"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie. 

He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away. 

"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves. 

Maybe he's not going to mention it? 

The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.

Fuck, that perfect ass.

He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp. 

OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host. 

"Eddie, do you want a beer?" 

He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart." 

Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves. 

Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own. 

"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand." 

You fall to your knees beside him. 

"Show me your hands?" 

Confused, you hold your palms up. 

"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system. 

He pulls your arm gently. 

"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?" 

Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit. 

"Got it." 

"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice. 

He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck. 

"So, did you finish?" 

"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words. 

"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?" 

Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it. 

"N-no." 

"Shame." 

What sort of alternative reality is this? 

"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable." 

You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. 

"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."

Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels. 

"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?" 

"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer. 

"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all." 

Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race. 

"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt. 

"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.

You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words. 

"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. " 

You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world. 

Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth. 

Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee. 

"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-" 

"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." 

"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone. 

"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy." 

You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up. 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave." 

His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides. 

Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily. 

A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes. 

"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that." 

You stop and listen, and realise he's right. 

"Sorry." 

"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth. 

"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."

You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head. 

Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck. 

As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes. 

"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you. 

"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy. 

"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you." 

"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help." 

You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge. 

"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look. 

"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have. 

"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless." 

An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath. 

Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room. 

Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you. 

"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me." 

It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 

"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.

"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze. 

"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?" 

You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you. 

"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?" 

His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy. 

"Please, please play with my nipples." 

A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest. 

"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart." 

Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. 

Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one." 

A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly. 

"OK Eddie." 

"Good fucking girl." 

"Oh God-"

Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub. 

"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.

His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast. 

"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me." 

Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you. 

It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release. 

Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.

"Feel better sweetheart?" 

You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything. 

"Yeah I'm good." 

"Don't lie to me." 

Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes. 

"If you're done I'll leave-" 

"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,

fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.

"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"

"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me." 

"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need." 

You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver. 

"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours." 

Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap. 

"Fuck. Spread your legs a little." 

It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed. 

"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy. 

Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke. 

"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more. 

Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough. 

"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit. 

"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.

"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.

Holy fucking fuck. 

That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing. 

"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl." 

He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving. 

"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?" 

His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.

"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!" 

Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh. 

"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh. 

"I said beg." 

His ministrations start to slow. 

"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features. 

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek. 

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.

"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am." 

A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper. 

"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!" 

"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart." 

Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release. 

They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away. 

You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else. 

"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling. 

"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you. 

If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over. 

"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."

"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl." 

Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. 

Oh fuck, just look at his cock. 

It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.

"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big." 

He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow. 

Oh fuck you just said that out loud. 

"Yeah? You want it? You want me?" 

He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest. 

"I need you Eddie." 

He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his. 

"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.

"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening. 

"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up." 

"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed. 

His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.

The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips. 

"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles. 

The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips. 

Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length. 

"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside. 

"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle. 

You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can. 

 "Oh my fucking God, fuck!!" 

You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud. 

"Hey honey, we're home!" 

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. 

Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin. 

"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen. 

"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway. 

"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement. 

"Great news, night honey!" 

You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed. 

"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders. 

"But I'm not done sweetheart." 

He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.

"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"

"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his. 

"Oh Eddie, oh-" 

"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently. 

He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.

Eddie knows. 

Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process. 

Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level. 

"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again." 

Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting. 

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey

[strayheartless]

Things in Zack’s ADHD apartment that are necessary for him to function (as implemented by Angeal.)

His toothbrush lives on his nightstand. Not in the draw, not in a cabinet over the sink, not in a little pot on the sink. On. His. Nightstand. Because in Zack’s brain, if the first thing he see’s in a morning is his toothbrush he thinks “I need to remember to do that, I’ll do it now” and then gets to the bathroom and thinks “I might as well shower and do my hair too…. Hey I need to pee!”

Everything he needs for meal prep goes in a little container in the fridge and is labeled with the days they are to be consumed by. Even the stuff that doesn’t classically live in the fridge go in to these cubbies. Angeal checks them every week and if there is left over stuff he takes it away, makes small lunch portions, freezes them and leaves a note on Zack’s fridge that says lunches are already there for him.

Speaking of, there is a dry erase whiteboard on Zack’s fridge door. It has a grocery list side and a calendar on it. Cloud tends to be the one who updates it when Zack forgets (which is a lot).

Zack’s game consoles are in a cupboard with his games to stop himself getting distracted while he typed up his reports. This was Zack’s own solution and it works semi well.

His sword hangs on a peg on the back of the door now.

Shoe rack. It’s messy but he can see all of his shoe options.

Files on his shelf that are clearly labeled: “pay checks, bills and taxes”, “letters from home”, “bills part 2”, “commission certificate and graduation paperwork”, “legal thingies”, “passport, birth certificates, and other Identification stuff”. The files were Genesis’ idea. They are written in fun fonts and in colourful felt tips, so he knows where they go.

If he forgets to put things in files they are usually on the coffee table and Sephiroth (the filing fiend) usually does a weekly sweep and sort of his documents.

Laundry basket hoop. Doesn’t always work but sometimes it gives him the dopamine.

A physical letter box on the wall by his front door. He gets a dopamine hit from using a key to check his mail…. Nobodies willing to question it.

The worlds most irritating alarm clock.

Cloud. Just Cloud.

Bottles and kitchen tools all hung at eye level.

Spiny spice rack. He could have had a shelf but the spiny one entertains him.

The smart watch Lazard had Reeve make him. It reminds him of basically everything.

Stamp the dog hydration app that makes sad puppy noises when he needs to drink water (he was irritated about it but he doesn’t actually like upsetting the dog.)

A roomba with googly eyes on it called George. George is on a timer.

Electric air freshener and automatic air filtration.

Kunsel.

[madschiavelique]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

[chuunai]

I had an idea for the 100 followers thingy- so like the babies thing but you’re a single mother (maybe teen mom?) and dazai (pm) falls in love with you and your baby :} ps- I LOVE YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF SUGAR 💗‼️‼️‼️

I’m trying I swear TvT

✧˚ · . you’re a virgin and I’m just a meth head - pm! dazai osamu

the new hire at the port mafia interests him. the baby, too.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff with a sprinkle of angst, mentions of teen pregnancy, reader and PM! dazai are seventeen, SFW, mentions of a former abusive relationship, mentions of suicide (it’s fucking dazai), happy ending.

Assistants were something he never cared for much.

They came and go, either requesting to work for a different department in the Port Mafia after witnessing his peculiarities or dying. He hadn’t ever formed any bonds with them. Hell, he hardly knew their names. Dazai preferred to give them childish nicknames such as ‘four-eyes’ for the ones with glasses or ‘baldy’ for the ones who had barely began balding.

No use in actually getting to know them.

All they were good for anyway was organizing his work and making a schedule of meetings and pointless missions he’d hardly follow. And what could they do? Nothing.

Once, he had attempted to get Ango to apply for the job during an outing at Bar Lupin, but that four-eyes declined. So did Oda. Geez, his friends lacked faith in him. Dazai wasn’t that bad of a boss. His subordinates didn’t die that often compared to the others.

Then again, his most recent assistant had died via overdosing. Straight from the Port Mafia’s warehouses, too. Dying of his own stupidity because karma struck him down. The high may have been sending him to the clouds, but he got too close to the sun just as Icarus did and burned—or in this case, vomited—to death. Fun.

A replacement would be needed, yes, but that would involve looking through so many applications and that was boring compared to strangling himself or pulling Chuuya’s hair when the redhead was speaking with Kouyou.

He’d pick irritating the slug over paperwork any day. At least one was fun.

So he just had Mori pick one out. As long as they wouldn’t be a nuisance and knew their place, he didn’t care who it was. Boy, girl, whatever. All ages welcomed. Dazai preferred younger though. The old farts were annoying and so utterly dumb! So when a subordinate gave him a file for his new assistant, he didn’t think anything of it. He always got those for record keeping.

Although this particular individual piqued his interest as his eyes gazed over the information attached.

The age was young—seventeen, same as him. A girl. According to the report, you were previously stationed as a secretary for some lower ranking member. And you’d just joined, too. Only a few blissful months ago. Just barely a baby in the crime world. All dewy-eyed and truly unknowing of the dark underbelly of Yokohama.

Most interesting, though, and the thing that struck his curiosity was the fact that a small sticky note was attached to the last page.

‘Single mother of eight month old girl’

There weren’t many parents in the Mafia, much less teenage ones. Nobody had time to have a baby with the lack of safety. But you did. Someone desperate enough to provide for their child to the point where they joined an illegal organization without even being an adult yet. That took will and selflessness. Something he lacked.

And without having even met you yet, Dazai found himself fascinated by you.

Murmuring your name to himself, he found himself a bit startled at how smooth it rolled off his tongue. He liked it, too. Your name was nice to say.

Tossing the file onto his desk carelessly, Dazai tapped his fingers on the desk, mind wandering once more. If you had a child then you’d probably work your best to support them. You’d be competent enough for him.

Apparently competent enough to the point where you felt like you could handle bringing the baby to the Mafia HQ.

“I don’t remember hiring two assistants.”

Dazai’s voice came out as slightly amused and startled. There you were, standing in-front of his desk while occasionally shushing your…daughter? It looked like a girl, anyway.

“Sorry- her sitter wasn’t available and I-“

His eyes stared at your reddening cheeks—embarrassment and shame, he could tell—as you spoke again.

“I don’t really have anyone to watch her. I’m so sorry, sir.”

Sir? You called him sir? That made him wave his hand a bit dismissively. The only people who called him ‘sir’ were the random grunts and gunmen that served under him. Or people who were scared shitless of him.

“Dazai. Not sir.”

Sitting up languidly, his uncovered eye focused on the baby. Curls of dark hair fell over her forehead while her tiny hands grabbed at your shirt and hair. Funny, he thought.

“And the baby can stay.”

She reminded him of some of the orphans Oda took care of. Especially Sakura. Maybe they had the same name, too. Unlikely, though. She didn’t look like a Sakura, really.

Picking up a pen, he pointed it at you, a small smile on her face.

“Speaking of, may I know her mother’s name?”

He knew it already. But it felt more right if he convinced himself you told him.

“Oh! Yes, uhm, I’m (L/N) (Y/N). And her name,” Tapping your baby’s forehead, she released a small coo, giggling slightly. “is (L/N) Yukirou.”

“Winter baby, huh. I’ll guess, December 16th?”

This was so much fun for him so far. Maybe Yukirou really could be his second assistant. As a joke, of course.

Nodding, you began to ramble on about the baby as he relaxed back in his chair, spinning around and making funny faces at Yukirou. The small child giggled and outreached her fingers to him, probably infatuated by his bandages and messy hair. He didn’t touch her, though. No need to let such a good small thing interact with a person like him.

And so minutes went by. Technically, he should’ve been doling out tasks and trying to kill himself again—he had heard of a technique where one could inject apple juice into their neck and die, but he wasn’t sure it’d work—but it slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was the fact you two were so close in age. The fact that in another universe you could’ve been classmates fueled this moment. Dazai didn’t really know people his age other than Chuuya, but Chuuya was Chuuya. You were new.

New to everything in this line of business. The killing, the release of morals. Then again, you were just an assistant. You’d never directly be involved with that. Just helping him out with whatever was needed.

Dazai thought that was a smart choice, whether or not you intended for it to be. As an assistant, you’d be safe from the gunfire and outermost threats. More likely to live and protect your daughter.

So caring in a line of work where lives were dispensable.

He wondered how you got there. Not to the Port Mafia—the file told him. But how you took on such a frowned upon job to solely provide for your child. Was the father a deadbeat? Or actually dead? His father was the same. Dead five years into Dazai’s life.

His mother tried her best, but she died too and he slipped onto Mori’s grasp. Hopefully your baby wouldn’t end up in the same situation.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by one of his men who dropped off a load of documents, side-eyeing you before leaving.

Dazai wished you hadn’t turned the conversation back to work.

“Sir, sorry- Dazai-san, would you like me to organize the papers..?”

Why did he forget that you were just an assistant of his? The medication must be making his mind woozy again.

“By date and incident, yep. Also, if you see any that mentioned a Chuuya, please throw them out. Or burn them. Preferably the burning part.”

His office was always to be kept rid of that ginger.

“On it.”

And so he doodled a noose on the wood of his desk while you slowly put the papers away. It soon became clear to him that Yukirou was making the job a tad difficult by trying to grab at the papers.

A slight idea of letting her crawl loose in Mori’s office and destroying it entered his mind, but it quickly left.

“Y’know, if she’s being a devil, I can play with her for a bit. I swear I’ll be good!”

The words left him before he could really process them. Next thing he knew he was wearing the baby carrier with tiny fingers pulling at his shirt. Instructions poured from your lips as he nodded and patted the baby’s back.

“I’ll kill you if anything goes wrong.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sound of that. You? Kill him? Never going to happen. Unless it were a double suicide, but you probably wouldn’t say yes.

And he replied when the slight fear in your eyes registered after remembering that he was your boss in the Mafia.

“If course, cutie. I give you permission to kill me if theoretically anything goes wrong.”

Dazai made sure to sneak a peek at your reddening cheeks before leaving his office with the baby strapped to his chest and tugging at his bandages like a little snake.

That’s how it all started. A boy and a girl who happened to have a baby.

He’d never regret how months went by as you two became closer and closer. Joking around, complaining about work, all the stuff friends did. Hell, Dazai even watched Yukirou sometimes.

Thank god Chuuya wasn’t there to see him watching children’s cartoons on your couch with a baby in his lap and a stuffed animal in the other.

Or how he insisted on covering some of your rent when you were struggling. Yukirou needs a home, after all. He sees himself in her a bit. And he didn’t want her to turn out like him. If he couldn’t change his own life for the better, he’d change hers.

And yours.

Much better than that dickhead that fathered Yukirou. You told Dazai about it one night when he stayed over after babysitting once more. Yukirou was napping in her nursery, and you two were sitting on the couch just talking.

Talking turned into sharing details of your lives, and he came up. Your old flame who ditched you. Breaking a promise that he’d be there for the baby and you. Dazai was silent all throughout it. Quiet when you spoke of the emotional abuse and stress that you had, quiet when you began crying over the fact you never got to graduate high school.

He was just there, daring to awkwardly rub your back as you vented. He wondered if you had talked about it before. Probably not.

Dazai felt like he too needed to share a story of his childhood too in exchange for yours. So he told you about the poor neighborhood he grew up in and the horrors he saw daily.

Did it lessen the impact of your venting? Most likely, but in his opinion, he was trying to show you that he trusted you now too. He assumed it worked when you fell asleep on his shoulder. He took care of Yukirou when she woke crying an hour later. He would’ve been a much better father than that bastard.

It didn’t help either that Yukirou began to see him as her daddy. He was there when she turned a year old, gifting her all sorts of things. Scolding her when she nibbled on his hands. Doing nearly everything a dad would.

Even when she managed to say ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for the first time, it was when all three of you were in the room together. In her tiny mind, it was her family. Her mama and Dazai—her papa. Oda congratulated him for becoming a father when you came along one day with him to Bar Lupin.

It didn’t live up to Chuuya’s reaction when he first heard one of his guys call Dazai a doting father. The shortstack had gone up to him asking if he really was Yukirou’s dad—rumors went around at HQ quickly—and Dazai had to sadly reply that he wasn’t. Sometimes he wished he was. Months of time with you led to nights in bed where he dreamed of a universe that he was really the dad. That Yukirou had his brown eyes instead of her dad’s blue ones.

It wasn’t fair.

Nor were his growing feelings.

Dazai was smart. A genius thinker and planner. So of course he noticed how his heart began to rapidly beat around you. The sweating of his usually cold hands.

He’d had crushes in the past, sure. But it didn’t equate to this. Such a strong connection only made it worse. Was it wrong his Google history lately was filled with questions about confessing to and dating a single mom?

Did you even like him back?

That question couldn’t be answered by anyone but you. It scared him. You probably didn’t. Not as more than a brother, anyway. His suicidal ideation and tendencies scared off any woman who wanted more than sex. But he probably wouldn’t be living long anyway. So he’d have to shoot his shot eventually.

Which he did after another five months of consideration and thought. Dazai committed this act by simply asking you to sort out some notes for him. A total of eight. Each one had a single word on it. If you correctly put them together, it spelled:

‘I like you. Do you like me back?’

Much to his relief and shock, you did. You did, and he had hugged you so tightly. Tightening their bond, too.

So he became your boyfriend. And he wore the title of ‘dad’ to Yukirou gladly. The little girl saw him as her papa, and he couldn’t deny it. Even if it wasn’t biologically, she was his. And yours.

Dazai’s life used to be mundane and slow, yet with his new…family, he felt genuine happiness for once. A reason to live.

That was the greatest gift he could receive of all.

Regular Tags: @twst-om-lover, @xxcandlelightxx, @sinfulthoughtsposts.

Tags for everyone who interacted with this post (it’s over 100): @walking-simp, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @heartsfourdazai, @cheriiyaya, @depressed-monarch, @nyxt0t, @baby-tini, @h0nk3rs, @internet-angell, @cupidszvlvr, @owosamu, @my-dear-melancholy, @dazaibae, @nekomafumafufan18-blog, @cvsmois, @lizsano, @nanamiinto, @inojuuy, @reomarys, @mayanakahara, @briiscoolig, @maislovebot, @syona-sachyo, @xieqq2, @angelof-darkness, @moriiko, @fuckthisfuckingshit, @daushu, @wrynue, @amnda-ft-fyodor, @rain-alucard, @hanayoshiii, @moemoekunn, @thatwasa, @miiiloo, @probablyzombiedinosaurs, @mauviese, @chips-and-vinegar, @https-dazai, @rragudoru, @leyla3x0, @cheetozai, @jillyfsh, @rylerboi, @linaaeatsfamilies, @zorizoras, @onlinewhisper14, @komicoral, @anim3-simps, @theoddsinner, @caayye, @scaramow, @such-a-silly-little-gy, @bunnybs-stuff, @psychiclovecollective, @sleepy-yumi516, @fromjas, @suzurans-world, @mrstengenuzui, @mitislm, @tealover111, @edgarallanpoeswifey, @baby-tini, @yaz4luvv, @deliciouscandysalad, @isrealityevenreal, @briefcreationcandy, @astr3eaa, @underscoredaniii, @nolongerhooman, @notalooo, @ratinawetsocksweater, @tomiroro,

Rest in comments I’m crying now also if your tag is white it’s because you didn’t pop up when I was doing the @‘s

[silkythewriter]

Hey, hi, hello! I had this idea for a Vox x reader that won’t leave me no matter what I do. I know you’re probably sick of writing for vox so much lately, so no pressure to do this! Take your time and don’t feel pressured to get it out soon! :D

What if Vox had a short s/o- I just barely realized how short the demons in hell can be and I think would be interesting. Like- what if his s/o just constantly walked on their tippy toes so they don’t seem as short as they really are compared to Vox? I also think it would be hilarious if his s/o was ever in an argument and they just randomly got Vox to pick them up because they want a height advantage.

-🃏

★Vox with a short! Reader★

Warnings!: non pure fluff!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note: HI OKAY I DUNNO IF THE OG REQUESTER IS EVER GONNA SEE THIS BUT GENUINELY I LOVE WHEN U REQUEST!, and thank you so so so much for checking up on me last time!, again thank you for requesting and I know I have some of your other request in my inbox so I’ll definitely go take a look LOVE YOUR IDEAS SORRY THIS IS LONG (💧｡•́‿•̀｡)

Summary!: Vox with a short! Reader (￣▽￣)

✾✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✾

“Look at me

I'm as helpless as a kitten up a tree

And I feel like I'm clinging to a cloud“

✾✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✾

OKAY, OKAY, BUT LIKE HE DEFINITELY LOVES THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE.

Don’t get me wrong, this man would love you whatever height you’re at, but man can he admit he loves when you have to snap your neck up ward just to look him in the eyes. He finds it hilarious. 

He teases you a ton, he blames you for his back problems, having to bend a bit down to kiss you. (Definitely not that he looks like a gremlin in his work chair hunched over stacks of papers)

Don’t get me started on the names he gives you, quite literally calls you doll cause he just loves how short and small you are!

Oh and that thingy you do with your tippy toes? To try and seem just a tinny bit taller? He also finds that hilarious!. Literally watched you struggle to balance yourself and purposely scares you so you slip up a bit and you end up landing in his arms. He’s a charmer what can he say?

Hates when someone else teases you though, that’s his bit, who do they think they are???

Likes looming over you as you do something, he can’t and won’t explain why he likes it he just finds it enjoying

For April fools’ he actually left a bunch of stools around your shared apartment for you (which…actually was very much needed for you, which he burst out laughing at)

He does find himself looking at you from afar and spacing off, he just finds you cute, everything About you, even your height!, he can’t help but just admire you for a bit.

Carry’s you bridle style, girl, boy, or in-between doesn’t matter to him. He loves how small you feel in his arms.

Val and velvet calling you his elf is probably the worse teasing you faced there but if it upsets you Vox is quick to silence them.

Now we’re heading into the topic of arguments…(ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

“Look at me in my eyes when I talk to you!”you huffed watching him roll his eyes “Fine.” Vox says as he picks you up. You two broke into a giggle after that 😭

Whenever your stern talking him he turns his screen into a camera so you can see what he sees needless to say you didn’t talk to him for a week.

When ever you two sit together he uses you as an arm rest here and there messing up your hair but he really couldn’t care much (ಡ‸ಡ)

Likes having you in his lap as he works like I said in my last post about him, he can’t help it. You truly are like a doll to him and he just enjoys having you in his lap and holding you in his arms.

Cuddling is definitely easier as he opts to big spoon most of the time, but if you figure out a way or want to be big spoon he won’t protest to much. He finds it cute like a little koala hanging off his back ( he has stated this out loud before and burst out laughing with you ( =ω= ) )

Purposely calls you to get an item he intentionally put on the high shelf of a cabinet literally his favorite thing to pull on you

“Honey, mind grabbing the popcorn?, my new show is about to come on” he said sweetly as he pointed to the pantry from the couch. You shrugged “sure” you said getting up as you dug through the pantry’s bottom and middle shelves but coming out empty handed and confused. “I think we ran out…” you trailed off knowing you saw it yesterday in there. “Oh, I must have moved it, check up there” he said in a fake remorseful tone as he again, pointed his finger only to the top shelves nearing the roof. “Vox!” You groaned turning your head up as you heard him chuckle behind you.

Picks you up randomly when your not budging and just takes you himself 😭

Overall, he genuinely finds your height adorable!, and aside from teasing, he does really finds you cute. And is careful not to hurt your feelings most of the time…(unless he’s having a particularly bad day) but always makes up for it!. He loves you, and he’ll make sure you know that. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

✾✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✾

AHHHHH I LOVE WRITING THIS THANK YOU SOSOSOOS MUCH FOR REQUESTING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN!

[gumycandyyy]

୨♡ "Ａｔ Ｙｏｕｒ Ｂｅｃｋ Ａｎｄ Ｃａｌｌ" ♡୧

Trying out a oneshot! Or something like that idk.

Winter King x reader

Romantic

GN reader

RQ: nah fam, I accept requests though!

Word count: 1390

No use of y/n

Summary: You're adventuring through this interesting little world, and find yourself in a snowstorm. Next thing you know, you're in some kind of ice palace. What happened?

Walking through the snow, you look up into the sky. Cloudy. Best be quick.

A chilly breeze sneaks through the fabric of your shirt and deep into your bones. It would've been better if you'd brought a jacket. Though you didn't think your wish prepared you for that.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"I wish..."

"You better think about this hard, dude. You only get one."

"Okay, okay. I wish... Hm..."

"Want a pickle?"

You agreed to Prismo's offer, gladly taking the snack. You crunched while you thought. Man, these were good pickles.

"Okay man, I'll admit I got nowhere to be, but you were kinda interrupting me. I was watching TV."

You tell Prismo that he can watch while you think, as you hadn't thought you would make it this far. He shrugged, and pressed a button on his remote.

You saw him flipping through channels rapidly, looking for one in particular.

"Hey, Prismo."

"Hm?"

"Are those just.. Shows? Or-"

"Oh, they're universes. Y'know, the multiverse theory right? I just get to watch everything. Perks of being an omnipresent god-type thing."

You think about your wish for another few moments. You snapped your fingers, and Prismo paused the TV.

"You know what you want?"

You nodded, rubbing your hands together.

"I wish that I-" "Be descriptive. Just in case, Y'know?"

You sighed with an exasperated smile. Taking a deep breath, you asked your question.

"I wish that I had the ability to travel freely and safely through the multiverse at will."

Prismo coughed loudly, as if choking on something. He took a deep breath, sighing.

"Okay, okay. So- I actually don't know if I'm allowed to do that."

"sigh."

"Did- did you just say 'sigh'?"

Prismo shook his question off, and sighed himself. He explained to you what he was and wasn't allowed to do, and how you were in a gray area of the rules. He finally shrugged.

"What could go wrong?"

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly you weren't in the time-cube-thingy anymore. You were in a grassy field. You felt something in the back of your pocket, and bringing it out, you saw a small pocket watch.

There was a note folded up and taped to the back of it. The handwriting was almost too small to see.

Yo, this thing is weird, right? Just wind the clock when you wanna change universes.

Don't break it.

I'm serious, this thing is expensive.

So armed with nothing but your wit and a pocketwatch, you traversed throughout the multiverse.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You wished that you would've added 'immortality' to Prismo's wish.

The wind was picking up, whipping your hair around. You looked into the sky, seeing the clouds grow dark, and snow beginning to sprinkle. It was almost astounding how quickly the weather could change.

A few stray snowflakes blew straight into your mouth as you breathed in, causing you to cough. The wind whipped through you, and the snow fell into your eyes. The sky was as dark as ever, and the snow clumping to your feet made it hard to walk.

You wish you thought of bringing a jacket.

You really wish you thought of bringing a jacket.

It didn't even occur to you to leave this universe, you were too cold to think. Stumbling around in this white wasteland, you wondered if there were any towns nearby.

Just as you thought of that, you saw a light in the distance. Struggling to climb up an embarrassingly small hill, you saw a glowing little town next to a palace probably around a quarter mile away. It looked to be made of ice, but that might just be you blurred vision.

You staggered through the snow, just trying to make it to the town.

You stop in place when you realize you can't feel a single thing in your body. Breathing in deep through your nose and cringing at the chilled air, you decided to use up the last of your energy to get to that little town as quickly as possible.

Bringing your arms up and crossing them, you tried to keep as much warmth to your chest as possible. After getting within about 100 paces to the town, you were ready to collapse. You heard light and seasonal music playing from the town, and hummed along deliriously.

People were ice skating on a small lake near you, and you tried to call for help.

But you couldn't get out more than a whisper.

Collapsing into the snow, your vision blurred and darkened. Just as you were about to lose consciousness, you heard a voice.

"Ice scouts! Come help this-"

Then you were out.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next thing you knew, you were inside some glittering blue room. Was this place made of ice? Impossible, you were warm. Looking down, you saw that you were covered in blankets. Fluffy, Warm, blankets... You almost wanted to fall back asleep...

You sat up quickly, realizing you didn't know where you were. You then heard a soft voice from your bedside.

"Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

You looked to your side, seeing a man sitting in a chair, reading some book. You couldn't see its title. The man had light blue skin, white hair, a long nose, and sparkling eyes.

You noticed he was dressed quite elegantly, and a crown sat atop his head.

"Who are you?"

He blinked for a moment, and laughed softly while slapping his forehead. He stood up, brushing himself off.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is the Winter King. You'd passed out in the snow when my ice scouts and I were not but twenty feet away from you!"

You introduced yourself,and tried to remember what exactly happened, but couldn't. You just had to take the Winter King's word for it.

Wait..

Winter King.

You quickly apologized for being so nonchalant with royalty, but Winter King stopped you.

"Oh, no need for such formalities. You are a guest. It's my duty to serve you. If it would make you feel better, you may just call me Winter."

He sat down again, looking at you. Not in a creepy way, just... curious.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The air was cold, but not nearly as dreadful as the blizzard outside. You then realized something strange. You asked Winter why it hadn't been pouring snow in the town. He laughs softly, smiling gently at your question.

Man, he was pretty.

"Oh, my dear, I have control over this domain. From every ice sculpture to every snowflake. While sometimes I cannot control the weather, I can however, keep it from affecting my town."

From your basic understanding of magic logic, this seemed plausible enough. You went to stand up, but suddenly felt very fatigued, your legs wavering. Winter stood up from his seat, ready to catch you if need be.

You cleared your throat, sitting down. Only then did you realize how much your throat hurt. You coughed for a moment, trying to get this scratchy feeling out. Winter noticed what you were doing, then gently clapped his hands. A person- looking to be made out of ice- skated into the room, holding a tray with a glass of water on it.

You thanked the little ice servant, and thanked Winter.

Winter seemed a little perplexed that you thanked the servant, but carried on, as it wasn't anything to fuss about.

"I see you're sick. Sometimes I can forget that people aren't immune to the effects of my wondrous realm."

He seemed to be really proud of his little winter wonderland. You looked out a massive window to see the town below.

The town.

You were in the castle.

Huh.

"However, I am more than willing to aid you throughout your journey to regain your health!"

This man cannot be real. He's so incredibly kind! You've never really met any royalty, but you guessed that Winter was pretty much the nicest king in history.

You sneezed into your elbow, then cleared your throat once again.

"Rest for now, my dear. Though, if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. I am at your beck and call."

Winter bowed, then gracefully slid out of the room. You forgot the floor was made of ice. Snuggling into the plush pillows and multiple blankets, you closed your eyes,

and drifted off.

︵‿︵‿T B C‿︵‿︵

My first Winter King oneshot! This was so fun to make. Tell me if you'd like a part two!

reblog for a beginner writer?

Your complimentary WK fanart ^^

Please send asks! I love writing prompts!

[peeweekey]

sweet like

word count: 1.5 k

synopsis: love confessions are not easy, having nosy neighbours isn’t either—but loving sam is different, it’s as easy as breathing.

a/n: samson my beloved, youre allergic to pollen but accepted my bouquet anyway. 😔❤️

edit: sweet like is now on ao3! here

today’s the day, you’re really going to do it. no ifs or buts.

you swear you will, but damn if it isn’t messing with your head. it’s definitely the nervousness or heat stroke symptoms causing the overly-conscious way you regard all other shoppers in pierre’s general store. you feel the uneven, erratic thrum of your pulse underneath your skin.

your hands are cold and clammy and disgustingly sweaty as a bright bouquet of tulips, poppies, sweet peas and fairy roses is unceremoniously slid across the store counter and bundled into your arms. the smell is dizzyingly perfumed. pierre doesn’t bat an eye though the knowing glint just tells you that he knows.

you and sam have been friends for as long as you started living in the valley. he’s a literal ball of sunshine compacted into a 5’10 body, and he’s sweet—maybe at times a little sloppy and forgetful but those quirks make him all the more lovable—to you.

and you admit yes, you did have a crush on him—and after watching his band’s performance in zuzu city, it got even worse. suddenly the ignition jump started the thrum of your heart—beating at race car speeds at the mere mention of his name. restless and anxious

so, here you are, buying a bouquet (one you could surely make yourself, but according to abigail buying this exact one is town tradition) at 10 am in the morning, in front of all your nosy neighbours.

you clutch the flowers tighter to your chest as caroline cranes her neck to take a peek. slowing down as she restocks the shelves. shameless, these people are sharks to blood when it comes to gossip.

you shoot her a wary glare, lips pursed together. pushing open the door to the shop, the little entrance bell rings with your exit.

after your realization, you see the world through rose-tinted glasses, the skies seem brighter and clearer, with soft fluffy clouds suspended in them. the breeze is soft and refreshing, while the sun is a comforting warmth at your back.

not even a few steps past the stardrop saloon do you feel any different.

adrenaline pumps through your veins as you see a flash of familiar spiked-up golden hair in your periphery. you feel your breath stutter as you reflexively stuff the delicate bouquet in your pack and snap it shut.

you turn your back, clutching a hand to your chest—you feel your heart racing underneath your fingertips as well as the heat rising up your skin. it’s fine, you reason, you’ll play it off as sunburn.

you slap at your cheeks, encouragingly.

the aforementioned man, skates towards you, calling your attention. turning, you nod your head in greeting, offering him a less than wobbly smile.

you wait until the skateboard skids to a stop, sam stops a few feet from you. his breaths slightly labored from the effort, he’s still as bright and cheery as ever

“sam,” you cringe as your voice cracks into an awkward pitch. he perks up at the mention of his name, giving you an enthusiastic wave. you swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“hey farmer,” he smiles, sam sets one of his feet down from on his skateboard. “it’s really bright out today. what’cha up to?”

“i was looking for you, actually.”

“and i’m here!” he replies before sheepishly adding. “that’s a coincidence. i was going to go visit you—well, before i forgot.”

“really,” your stomach traitorously flutters. “what for?”

“to give you something,” he says breezily, sam digs around in his pant pockets, seemingly looking for something. “i swear i have the thingy in here somewhere..”

you watch as he fumbles around looking for the thingy. Your mind drifts to the scrunched up bouquet sitting in your pack. you hadn’t expected running into him so soon—

maybe, you think. you aren’t as ready as you think.

“ahh, here it is!”

sam fishes out a rectangular shaped object from his back pocket, its slim and clear. you tilt your head in curiosity and he smiles wider.

“a cassette of the band’s song,” he tells you, grabbing your limp hand to stuff it into your palm. “listen to it! you have a cassette player on your farm, right?”

the momental brush of his hand against yours has you stumbling over your mess of thoughts and feelings. it is a little pathetic, to be acting like a lovesick teenager again—you groan to yourself. “yeah, i do.”

the cassette is light in your palm, the hard plastic case is covered in sharpied lightning bolts and smiley faces—along with the careful engraving of your name. the hand drawn designs are wonky and childlike (you suspect he asked vincent to draw them), but it’s yours.

he made this for you.

you feel the giddy warmth spread all throughout your body—concentrated in your chest and stomach which twists with some emotion you’re too confused to name.

“i couldn’t find you after the performance,” he confesses. you peek up from the cassette at his face—his cheeks are bright pink with bashfulness. “it was too crowded, i wanted to give you the first sample recording.”

standing on willow street in front of his family house with the sun beating down on you, sweat dripping down your temple, flowers haphazardly stuffed into your backpack. you’re literally buzzing with energy—the warmth, inside and out, is making your head spin.

you feel your mouth moving before you can even register what you’re saying, feverish words tumble out.

voice a tad strangled, you rasp. “sam.”

he looks down at his skateboard, his attention; short and slipping away. “yeah?”

“be my boyfriend.”

“sure!” he pauses, processing what you said, his eyes whip back up to stare into yours—wide and so, so blue. “waaait.. wuuh—”

“i was—uh, do you want to know why i wanted to visit you today?” you ramble on, tracing the cassette case edges with sweaty fingers. the beat of your heart is a resounding thumping sound in your eardrums. “actually, this is not how i planned things, but got nervous, you make me nervous.”

you shrug off your backpack, the heavy weight of it that once was grounding you groaned as it hit the ground. you open the flap and produce the now crumpled flowers—stems bent and broken, petals missing but the smell is still overwhelmingly sweet. you hold out the bouquet to him with shaky fingers, the cassette held in your other hand clasped behind your back.

“—i wanted to make this a little more special…” you sigh nervously, eyes squeezed shut while your bottom lip is chewed between worrying teeth. “it’s all crumpled, sorry…”

“i think this is plenty special already.”

you feel as he moves closer, plucking the flowers out of your hands. now, there’s barely any space between the both of you. your eyes snap open, mouth slightly gaping as he takes a long sniff full of flowers.

your heart sings for joy as he does—but the concerningly wet sneeze he lets out makes you furrow your brow in realization.

he’s goddamn allergic.

your eyes widen, reaching for the flowers. “sam, you’re allergic to pollen!”

your fingers barely brush the stems when he pull the flowers away from you. sam laughs, bright and pure—one that sounds like it came deep from his gut. you flush deeper in embarrassment, and a little in confusion.

“so? you gave me these. i like them!”

“i can’t believe it slipped my mind,” you cringe. “don’t keep them! the stems are all twisted and broken anyway.”

he sneezes again, shaking his head petulantly, his nose pinkened with irritation, a small sound of mortification exits your mouth. how can you be so forgetful?

digging through your backpack, you grab the small pack of tissues you usually use to dab off sweat easily. you take one out of the pack and stretch it out towards him.

instead of your offered tissue, sam grabs you by the wrist, tugging you to him. you follow with not much of a fight, a confusing mixture of nervous and giddy energy you’ve become. he holds you still against him, his arms coming behind you to wrap the both of you together tightly.

you go limp against him, head buried his shoulder. you think, you fit together perfectly.

“by the way, i like you too.” he murmurs into your hair. “a lot more than you think i do.”

“even if i forgot you were allergic to flowers?”

he snorts, leaving a chaste peck on your forehead, you feel your cheeks flush. “especially because you forgot, it was kinda funny.”

your head shoots up, nearly bumping his chin. “sam!”

he laughs and you can’t help but smile in return. your gaze returns to the sky, and suddenly you can’t quite recall what you were so worried about. really, life in stardew valley has never been so bright.

(and if you see some of your neighbors watching at the corner of your eye, you shut your eyes to ignore them.)

[aratribow]

What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.

[xhoneygirlxx]

i personally don't like when people buy me things. often times when someone gets me something i feel bad that they spent the money on me.

anyway here's a little thingy while i work on some writing :)

18+ minors go away

Eddie would be the kind of boyfriend who would buy you things, whether it was a small snack from the gas station or a brand new eye shadow palette you've been wanting for a while, and every single time you'd thank him followed up by a little chastising for spending money on you.

He's told you plenty of times before that he has the money, that he bought it because he wanted to and he likes to see you happy, so there is no reason for you to feel bad that he spend x amount of money on a little gift for you.

After a while he starts to realize that your little rant about his gifting isn't just about you worrying about his bank account but you simply don't think that you're worth it.

This gives the metalhead an idea, for every rant you give him about spending money on you he has to remind you why he does. So, the next time he brought home a little present for you and you reprimand him, he takes you straight into the bedroom where he pins you underneath him and shows you why he does what he does.

"You're so perfect, honey. Did'ya know that, hmm?" Eddie questions, his breath lingers hot and heavy on your neck.

You whine loudly, not just because of the compliment but because of the way he's driving his cock in and out of you so perfectly.

He pants heavily as he pulls back from his spot in the crook of your neck, arms steading him as he cages them by your head. Guitar pick necklace and dark curls dangle over your face, a greek god reincarnated right above you.

"Fuck, you're s'good baby. So fucking good f'me." He praises.

You keen into his sweet words, gripping around him tightly as his words edge you closer to the end.

"Feel s'good, Eds. Love how you feel." You're completely cock drunk, lost in the hazy cloud of euphoria.

A breathy chuckle escapes the kiss bitten lips of your boyfriend, enamored completely on the way he's got you. His rhythm picks up, hips snapping at a faster pace causing the squelch of your sopping cunt to be louder than before.

You're not sure what he does, whether he angles your legs higher to your chest or if he switches the way he fucks into you, all you know is he is now hitting deeper inside of you causing the air to be knocked out of your lungs.

You're a live wire, sparking and crackling ready to explode at any moment. He's everywhere, filling each of your senses, and you're not sure if it's heaven or hell and if this is how you were to go out, you'd be fine with where you ended up.

"S-shit, squeezin' me so tight," Eddie grits out, "You gonna cum, baby? Yeah, y'gonna cum all over my - fuck- all over my cock?"

At this point you're not sure if he's teasing you and quite frankly, you don't care if he was, all you care about is the string in you're belly that's ready to snap.

"Come on, sweetheart, cum f'me. Be the good girl you are and cum."

That's it, that's all you need to hear before you're finally pushed over the edge. You're back bows off the mattress, toes curling so tight you'll probably cramp up, and your eyes roll straight back into your head.

You release with a silent scream, an airy gasp followed by the oxygen being ripped from you. It's a big one, probably the biggest orgasm you've had in your life, and God does it feel good.

It feels like you've been pulled out of your body, floating straight into the clouds only to free fall at a slow speed. You always wondered what people meant when they said they were on cloud nine but now you know because you've seem to reach there in this moment.

It clearly was a big one because the moment you fall back to earth, Eddie already has you cleaned up and a cup of water waiting for you. He sits on the side of the bed, boxers haphazardly thrown on, as he pets the hair out of your face that clung on to the drying sweat.

"My sweet girl, you okay?" It comes out concerned yet not frantic enough to alarm you.

Words seem to be too much of an issue for you, tongue to heavy to move. Instead you resort to nodding your head, giving the best smile you can despite being completely drained of energy.

"Did I go too hard? Was it too much?" Big brown eyes study your face, afraid that you've been injured in some form.

You shake your head rapidly, "M'okay, Eds. It was perfect." Although your voice is hoarse, your eyes tell him all he needs to know. You're being honest.

Letting out a subtle sigh of relief, Eddie coax you to sit up as much as you can, putting the rim of the glass to your lips to encourage you to drink.

"My good girl, did so good f'me." He coos sweetly. Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, he places the glass on the bedside table before helping you lay back down.

Once you're settled back into bed, Eddie takes his spot next to you, pulling you into his chest to hold you. It's silent for a moment, a comforting calm after all that's happened. He lets you soak it up for a moment, allowing you to regain yourself before pushing you to say anything else.

"Thank you, Eds." It comes out muffled from where your face meets the skin of his chest, however he still hears it loud and clear.

It might not mean much to anyone else but to him, it means everything. Finally it's dawned on you that he doesn't just do the things he does because he he feels like he has to but simply because he wants to. It's not just about him fucking the absolute shit out of you but the fact that he took care of you right after, not because he has to or because you made him, it's because he did it out of the kindness of his heart.

You deserve nice things, whether it's a dollar bag of chips or a mind blowing night of sex followed by after care, Eddie does these things because he wants you to know he loves you and you deserve everything good in this world.

He lets these words soak into his skin, going straight into his veins and causing a heat to fill his body. You don't see it, not when you're eyelids are too heavy to open, but he's smiling. It's not a smile from winning a competition or contest, but a smile of pride. He has finally proven to you that you are worth kindness and thoughtful actions without any sort of rebuttle on your end.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Now get some rest, it's been a long night."

His words seem to soothe you because not even a second later you're humming into his chest contently.

___

This sucks but I felt the need to share. Eddie Munson would 100 percent spoil his s/o and no one can convince me otherwise.

I hope you all enjoy this and if you find any sort of spelling/writing error, no you didn't :)

_ __

[talkfastromance4]

If you still accept titles for the made-up fic title thingy:

"I wanna be that somebody for you."

This is very long! My imagination got away from me and I would LOVE to continue this story if you and others are interested!

Also couldn’t help myself and made a lil moodboard.

Enjoy!

***

You own a small flower shop inherited by your grandfather and you curated the floral arrangements for Penny and Maverick’s wedding. You were busy perfecting the bouquets and that’s when Jake saw you wearing a very pretty sundress with pink flowers on it. You even had a headband of flowers in your hair and he pictured you in a cottage with little woodland creatures surrounding you.

He admired your work ethic and the need for things to be exactly perfect with the arrangements.

“Excuse me,” he said approaching you, “could you help me with my boutonniere?”

You looked him over in his dress whites then glanced at the others behind him.

“Um, you don’t get them with your uniform.”

“Oh. I know,” he grinned, green eyes dancing.

“Then why would you ask–”

“I’m in another wedding. I’ll be wearing a regular civvy suit.”

“I see,” you nod gathering up the fallen stems and leaves from your work. “Shouldn’t the bride and groom be asking for those?”

“I’m the best man, they’ve entrusted me with it.”

“I see.”

He liked how curt you were with your responses.

“Well, I’d love to help but not while I’m in the middle of another wedding, sir.”

His eyebrows raised at the formality of ‘sir’ and only made his Cheshire grin widen.

“Wonderful, I’ll stop by tomorrow. When do you open?”

“Eight,” you sigh.

“I’ll see you at eight. And it’s Lieutenant, darlin’,” he winks then left you flabbergasted.

***

He’s already waiting outside the shop door by eight o’clock on the dot when you go to unlock them. He’s in his service khakis and you run through some options from most expensive to least. Then by category of flower and what season would be best for which flower. It wasn't until you pulled out a box of ribbon that he placed his hand over yours, you felt an electric current course through you.

He admits it was all a ploy.

“What? Why?” You ask then realization and anger clouds over your eyes. “So you can joke about it with your naval buddies? Get out of my store–”

“No, no, no, you misunderstand,” he holds up his hands in defense. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?”

“An arrangement,” he flashes a smile. “Come to dinner with me tonight and I’ll explain.”

“Like an arrangement of flowers?”

“No, sweetheart,” he shakes his head then slides his hands in his pockets. “I’ll have a car pick you up at seven. Wear something nice.”

He winks again then left.

Throughout the day you were thinking of the whole altercation. The smart, rational part of you knows you shouldn’t have dinner with him. But the curious part of you is intrigued by his cryptic meaning of ‘proposition’ and ‘arrangement’ and you wanted to know what it was.

It isn’t until your friend and coworker has come over with an armful of dresses for you to borrow that she jokingly suggests it might be a sex arrangement. You laugh along but the pit in your stomach and the warmth spreading in your ears signifies she might be right. You pick out a pretty black dress and the car arrives promptly at seven o’clock.

The Navy is prone to being good with time, you guessed.

A man named Reynolds opens the very sleek black SUV and asks what kind of music you’d like to listen to for the drive. Forty minutes later you’re in the Valley pulling up to the top five star restaurant in the state. A valet opens the door and gestures to you inside where a hostess greets you by name and leads you to the main room.

The Lieutenant is sitting at a white clothed table in a very nice suit. As soon as he saw you he stood up, eyes taking you and your dress in with a faint smile.

“Wow, as I live and breathe,” he drawls then pulls out your chair. He offers his hand for you to take as you sit down and he pushes you in a little bit. You murmur a thank you and take in the restaurant.

Men and women are wearing high-end clothes, luxury watches wink at you and diamonds sparkle amongst the candlelight. There’s a massive fireplace and chandeliers everywhere. When you look back at him, he’s already looking at you. You feel your cheeks warm.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments.

“Thank you. This is very…extravagant.”

He notices the nervous way you touch your hair and bite your lip. You take in how handsome he looks, his suit is crisp, his hair perfectly styled with a little bit of the bangs hanging over his forehead. There’s a start to a five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and chin but it looks anything but rough to the touch.

“Y/N?” he asks and you notice a waiter is next to you.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Red or white, madam?” the waiter asks.

“For what?” your brain is a little behind because of the circumstance.

“Wine,” the Lieutenant smiles patiently.

“Oh. Right. Um…white.”

“A bottle of your best white wine and I’ll also have a whisky. Neat.”

When the waiter is gone you lean in closer to the table.

“What is all this?”

“Dinner and drinks.”

“No. I mean…your proposition?”

“It’s not time to talk about that yet,” he shakes his head then hands you a menu.

The drinks arrive and you take a hearty sip to ease your nerves. You nearly choke on probably the best wine you’ve ever had when you notice the prices. Some of them are in the hundred dollar range.

“Lieutenant–”

“Please, call me Jake.”

“Jake. these are very pricey–”

“Don’t worry about the cost, y/n,” he shakes his head. “Anything that looks good, please order it. And don’t go for the cheapest one.”

You glance over the top of your menu to see him giving you a knowing look because that’s what you were honestly planning to do.

After you finally order and drink some more wine, he starts to ask many questions. Your birthday, where you grew up, schooling, your favorite classes, friends, family, siblings. So many questions about you. When dessert is finished you’re holding the mug of coffee between your palms.

“Why do you want to know all this?” you ask.

“Penny told me how caring and open-hearted you are, how much you do for others. And how you help your grandmother. She said no one has really taken care of you.”

His green eyes are smoldering in the candlelight.

“Okay…” that didn’t really answer your question.

“I wanna be that somebody for you.”

“Be what?”

“I want to take care of you. Anything you need. Pay off your house, expand your flower shop,a new car. Whatever you need.”

You stare at him blankly trying to absorb his words then it hits you.

“You want to be a sugar daddy?” You hiss and nearly spill your cup of coffee. “I’m very capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. I get by. I don’t even have a house! And what, you’d want to pay for things in exchange for sex? I’m not a hooker and that’s illegal!”

“Shh!” he hushes placing his hand over yours. His eyes are wild as he looks at the other occupants but they were none the wiser of your accusations. “No. Of course not.”

“I won’t send you feet pics either–”

“Y/N, Y/N, stop,” he’s earnest. “This is not what that is, I promise.”

“Then explain yourself better.”

“What I’m suggesting is that, I help you with some financial things and in return–” he gives you a look when you gasp–”in return, I ask that you be a companion. A date to Navy balls, family gatherings. We can have dinner as frequently as you’d like, or coffee, or nothing at all unless it’s for a function where I need you.”

“So not a sugar daddy–you aren’t even that much older than me, by the way!”

“I’m aware,” he nods patiently while you visibly flip out on him.

“So, what then? A piece of arm candy? I’m not the greatest–”

“You are. From what I’ve heard you are exactly right for me.”

“How? Why do you need a companion? You can have any person you’d want.”

“I can’t disclose that with you right now unless you agree. I’ll have paperwork set up–”

“Paperwork! Wait,” you lower your voice, peeking at your neighbors to make sure they’re not listening when you ask, “is this like a…a Fifty Shades of Grey thing? Are you like a Christian Grey?”

“Of course not,” he snorts, “I’m not into that, I’m not going to ‘own’ you. You picture me as Christian Grey?”

“No! You’re way hotter than he–” you clap your hand over your mouth but he smiles. “So, no whips and chains or a play room?”

“No. Unless you’d want one,” he shrugs. “This is why I’m calling it an arrangement. You’re a good person who deserves to be taken care of.”

“You hardly know me, Jake. Or am I some kind of charity case? A means to a redemption arc you’re looking for? Have you murdered someone?”

“My, my, my, you certainly are entertaining,” he chuckles. “And quite the imagination.”

“I watch a lot of movies,” you sniff.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now, of course. But think about it. I have more than enough money and I give a good portion of it to charities I’m keen on. We can be as exclusive as you’d like or you can shoot a text and I’ll send money over for whatever it is you need.”

“And all you want back is for me to be a companion to you?”

“Yes.”

“Like a fake relationship?”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

You side eye him dubiously.

“Are you sure this isn’t some sort of sex thing? Is this a new kink I’ve never heard of?”

“Oh y/n, if it was I would have already pleasured you at your shop.”

“What?!” you squeak but he just smirks.

“That’s a discussion for another time, sweetheart. If you choose. I want you to know the ball is entirely in your court. I’ll have Reynolds drive you home but leave you with my card…” he pulls out his wallet and slides a business type looking card with his name on it and a number underneath.

Your mind is racing, your palms are sweaty and you feel warm all over because you never in a million years would have expected this type of predicament.

“It’s late, I know you need to be up early tomorrow,” he pulls away from the table and you stand automatically following him out the restaurant in a daze.

Reynolds opens the door but Jake grabs your elbow and turns you around to face him. He’s wearing a very fresh smelling cologne, it clears your nose and makes your head swim because it gives off the aura of sophistication and wealth. Your head doesn’t even come up to his chin so you really have to move your head up to look at him.

“Think it over. I’ll send over the papers so you can examine it. Call or text or email if you have any questions. I want to be that somebody you can rely on and call on whenever you need it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you gulp.

“Good. Have a good night, Y/N,” he bends down to kiss your cheek then helps you climb into the car. “Reynolds will also be your driver. He knows where to bring you to me when and if you’re ready.”

He closes the door and your head is still swimming going in a million different directions. Your cheek is tingling from the softness of his lips, the insides of your thighs are burning because you’re thinking of what he said earlier. How he could have pleasured you in your flower shop. The curious part of you was very curious about that.

[impactedfates]

I was wondering if I could request an IL dan heng x Wolf Reader based of 1.2 quest reader has wolf ears and tail kinda like foxian charcters maybe reader was worried about Dan heng after battle and sees his new form when first sees him she low key gets flustered kinda mesmerizing by him literally just wags her tail out instinct just pure fluff cuteness 💗🤭

A/N: Hello! And yes you can request this >:D I wrote this in the scenario story thingy way. Idek what to call it, but bullet pointed scenarios that make a story. Like I did with the Yanqing and Blade fic. Hope you don't mind aha. (Also I rlly hope this is fluffy)

Warnings: None (I think)

Extra: Fem! Reader but no pronouns used other then 'you' 'your' ect // Reader has wolf ears and tail // Proof read by myself but if I missed anything please tell me

You were a researcher on Hertas space station, which is where you met Dan Heng :)

At first he was rather quiet, but you tried to still talk to him when you could, you found him interesting and rather cute.

Eventually your two became friends, that friendship blossomed into a loving relationship.

You joined the Nameless so you could stay close with Dan Heng, he always knew how you felt due to how your ears and tail would move. You were usually always okay with showing your emotions in full, never being flustered if he saw how happy you were by just seeing him.

You weren't even ashamed when he caught your tail and ears being droopy when he came back from his mission on Belobog, all because you missed him, they quickly rose when you saw him though.

You were fine with showing him how you felt all the time...expect this one time when the express went to the Loufu.

You stayed on the express with Himeko and Dan Heng, at least until Dan Heng decided to leave and find his friends.

Himeko could tell that you were feeling down about not seeing your boyfriend for so long, and soon insisted for you to go and find him.

So you do that, bidding her and Pom Pom farewell. As you quickly left to find your quiet boyfriend.

You looked everywhere, I mean everywhere but you couldn’t find him. So you eventually asked around, the locals, shop owners and eventually a cloud knight (a certain sword lover)

Yanqing was confused why you were looking for him, he was a criminal of the Loufu. But at the same time, you seemed really worried. He reluctantly told you and said he’s go with you to find him. (He wouldn’t be able to arrest Dan Heng anyways, he knows his dad Jing Yuan is there)

So you get there, but there were Cloud Knights guarding the place, and even with Yanqing there they couldn’t allow you to enter.

You paces around back and forth, worried. You wanted to see your boyfriend again, but now you’re hearing he’s fighting one of the 7 Lord Ravangers???

After what seems like forever, you could spot March, Welt and the Trailblazer walking towards you.

Upon seeing you, Welt was quick to lecture you about coming on the Loufu as it could’ve been dangerous.

You were listening…until a familiar voice reached your ears. They twitched a bit as you look over seeing someone handing an unconscious man to the cloud knights.

You know that voice. It’s Dan Heng!

“Dan Heng?”

You softly called out, as you walked away from Welt, earning a sigh from the grandpa him.

Dan Hengs head looks over to you and his gaze softens.

“[Name]…what are you doing here?”

He asked, but you couldn’t respond. How could you? I mean look at him. His outfit, his longer hair, horns. He looked nearly completely different…but it was still him.

Oh how pretty...

W a i t a m i n u t e

“[Name]~ Your tails wagging, do you like Dan Hengs other form that much?”

You snapped your head behind you and stared, your tail was indeed wagging...a lot...

Dan Heng peered over and stares at the tail that you were currently trying to calm down with an embarrassed face.

Dan Heng let out a rare chuckle, coming over and wrapping his arms around you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Don't be shy dear, if you like this form then...I guess I'm not opposed to showing it more often for you"

March teases you about it all the time when you return on the express, even calls the two of you 'tail buddies'

Dan Heng doesn't tease...exactly anyways, at certain times he'd show his form just to pull you in with his tail and cuddle you, knowing that you haven't really gotten over how majestic he looks.

He honestly loves how much your tail wags when he shows his form, especially since you cannot control it no matter how much you try.

You obviously love both his forms, he just finds it amusing how much you seem to love his more dragonic form.

He especially finds it amusing that out of all the things you could've felt embarrassed from due to your ears and tail revealing things. It was him seeing your reaction to his dragon form that got you flustered the most.

Sorry if this is short!! :(

Dragon Dan Heng has my heart I love him sm, my cute lil dragon boy. So happy I won my 50/50 and got his LC (In fact, I have my next LC guaranteed cuz I got the Bailu LC on 4 pity, limited LC banner Ü)

Also, 2 posts in one day (my time) is somehow an achievement to me.

[moonspirit]

can we get some aruani wedding headcanons please 🙏👀

Hello!

But AruAni wedding headcanons 🥺

I like to think that Aruani's "real" wedding, i.e. the one that's not there just for a political display will be a very quiet one with just their closest friends: the Ambassadors + Levi & Co.

Well.... As quiet as it can be, anyway. Jean, Reiner, Connie and Gabi are ready to bring the house down.

It will be a open-air seaside wedding! Either a remote beach or a cliff overlooking the sea, complete with the wind whipping at their clothes and the sea stretching vast and wide, endless to the horizon. Big, beautiful clouds float in the sky, changing colours as the day draws on.

Whether sandy beach or rock-studded grassy cliffside, it means Annie's wedding dress will be short-with the hem somewhere around the calves or below knee-for ease of movement. She's quite happy with that, really. The easier it is to manspread, the better.

But the rest of the dress is a fucking pain in the ass. Stupid strapless bra, stupid underwires, stupid everything. If she could, she'd have gotten married in a hoodie and shorts.

She can't seem to get rid of Hitch and Pieck's fussing over her hair and clothes and pooh-poohs their hard work (secretly she's grateful because she couldn't have done shit on her own).

Meanwhile Armin is a panicky, teary, sobbing MESS.

He's also driving Jean nuts with his fidgeting - everything on his person has to be perfect for Annie! Perfect tie! Perfect suit! Perfect flower-in-pocket thingy! It gets so bad to the point that Mikasa has to tie him up with rope and make him sit still in a corner.

Hitch has also been drinking right from sunrise and shows no signs of stopping. After bothering Annie, she's taken to sitting at a table and admiring everyone that passes by, man or woman. Reiner is very scared of her.

Onyankopon is officiating and he's got the perfect vows ready and whatnot.

Levi doesn't want wine, he wants TEA, and he's satisfied when he's got it. He also watches everyone around him in their suits and dresses, and feels a tad sad that his kids are all so grown up now.

Not very sad when Gabi's cheekily threatening to wheel him into the sea or tip him off the cliff tho. RIP Papa Levi, your parenthood will never cease.

Close to the time of the wedding, Armin's nervous and jumpy in his room, head in his hands and telling himself to calm down. Nobody understands why he's so anxious. (The real reason is because he's minutes away from being called "Annie's Husband" and the poor boy's so happy he's having heart palpitations).

I think there has to be a secret medical team on standby.

Annie, on the other hand, is very quiet in her room, sitting before the mirror. On either side of her are Pieck and Hitch, also quiet after their endless teasing. Annie's dazed. This is really happening? A day has come when she's actually getting married? She didn't even think she'd live this long, but here's a big bouquet in her hand and the dress she's wearing is finely tailored. Pretty. Beautiful.

After a long silence staring at each other through the mirror, the three of them start crying.

But nevermind any of that. The only one doing the real heavy work here is Mikasa, alternating between Armin's room and Annie's, telling them both firmly "You can do this." like it's a mission.

At the flowery arch altar(?) thingy, Armin's ready to receive Annie and so anxious he's sweating bullets.

But when Annie makes her appearance, being walked by Connie (ye, he's the best), there are TWO men who burst into tears. None other than the bridegroom and also Reiner, because he's pathetic and emotional.

It's a bit annoying really.

Also Armin's maybe struggling to breathe. Somebody please check his pulse.

But can anyone really blame him tho? She's BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Outshining the glittering sea.

Not only him tho. The blush on Annie's face is powered by the fucking sun.

And can anyone blame her?! He's DASHING!! It should be criminal for a man to look that good.

(*whispers* she's gonna jump him later in the night before he's even unbuttoned his suit)

When Annie meets Armin at the altar, Mikasa's the one that's the most proud. She's got tears in her eyes. It's a beautiful wedding, and these two are so dreadfully, horribly, terribly in love. There's a small pang of sadness in her but overall, she's incredibly happy for her little brother.

When prompted for the "I do's", Annie's a bit breathless when she says it while Armin's honestly doing his best not to say it before Onyankopon's even asked him.

The kiss is suspiciously too innocent.

Pieck loudly snickers from the back that they shouldn't be anywhere near the newlyweds that night.

The post-wedding shenanigans are insane!!!!!

DANCING AND DRINKING EVERYWHERE!! Best man and Best Woman speeches, plenty of embarrassing flashback stories, plenty of laughter, plenty of everyone getting very pissed off at each other.

If it's by the beach, the boys carry Armin off and throw him into the sea.

The same with Annie tho Mikasa tells her to wear some granny panties in advance. Hitch isn't having any of it. The fuck do you mean granny panties?! Why?! Well, to protect against sand in the coochie ofc. Hitch still won't have it because ugly.

FUCK THE WEDDING SUITS AND DRESSES AND EVERYTHING! ITS TIME TO SPLASH AROUND IN THE WATER!!!!

Everyone is soggy and wet and very hot

The Ackermans too are no match for the waves. SOGGY AND WET AND HAPPY, I TELL YOU!!!!

... Ah, there is a wedding cake.

But Connie mixes up birthday and wedding etiquette and ends up slapping it on Aruani's faces.

Falco accidentally drinks alcohol again and passes out. Why is he always accidentally getting wine in his mouth? Smh.

To be as annoying as possible, everyone keeps Armin and Annie away from each other as best as they can. Not a moment together! CRIMINAL!

When they assemble to take a photo together, the photographer spends at least 20 minutes under the camera cloth ordering adjustments in their positions. It's frustrating. Reiner's boobs are blocking everything else, ugh. Fucking hell, Reiner.

(But when the photo finally comes out, days later, it's so beautiful. All of them, grinning bright and some caught mid-laugh, hair and clothes windblown, flowers in their hands, holding each other close, sunlit and golden and so very happy.)

Well into the night and finally alone at last, Annie finds, that instead of being relieved, she's even MORE annoyed.

Because Armin's being insufferable.

He's all "wife this" and "wife that" and "my beautiful pretty adorable wife" and she's so embarrassed she could just. die.

But no. No die. Only wedding night activities 🌚🌝.

[league-of-legends-hcs]

NSFW Kayn Thingy

Kayn x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, mind control (ish?)

Just imagine sitting under a tree in the forests of Ionia, watching the enchanted waters flow in front of you, lightly illuminated by the moon that shone beautifully through some clouds.

There was a light chill in the air when the summer breeze whisked around you, the hairs at the base of your neck standing up whenever the gentle whisp touched your skin.

But not only because of that. soft lips were placed on the back of your neck, strong, calloused hands, one feeling a little jagged and a little warmer than the other, were gently holding your forearms... And his scent... God it unleashed a wave of emotions you could hardly describe... You felt at ease and yet excited and on edge..

"I missed you..." His voice spoke into your ear, causing a shudder to run down your spine. "Now I finally have a moment for you, my precious jewel..." The young assassin turned you around to face him, your eyes meeting his. The beautiful orbs were filled with relief and a hunger you could barely describe... Only then you noticed the change that his body had undergone, too mesmerized by the voice that seemed to put you into a trance after such a long time of not hearing it.

His face had a mark, one of his bright blue eyes turned dark... And red.. and his skin... It had turned.. partially black.. "Kayn..." You whispered, shocked... Feeling fear and pity wash over you at once. Your loved one had been... Cursed... Somehow..

"My jewel.. " he raised his hand, the corrupted one, the pain in his voice overwhelming once he had seen the fear in you. You were shivering, unable to move away from him, whimpering a little, now that you had seen the way he had changed... It did scare you. Kayn had changed... His... Aura had changed. "Don't be afraid.." he whispered, the clouds seeming to darken the sky now, the one you had called your love melting into the shadows neatlessly... Yet you could feel the heat of his touch. An almost searing heat. Another voice, deeper and outerworldly seemed to speak from where Kayn stood. "She is drenched in fear... How delectable..."

You couldn't help but jump at it, yelping, but the hand on your face that now grasped your chin kept you quiet mostly. "I'm begging you.." with one swift motion, you were pulled into your lover, feeling his heart beat in his chest erratically. "My jewel I'm begging you.." he began to kiss you now. It was passionate but feverish.. with very rough moments.. as if he was fighting himself. "... Do not cast me away... I promise you, I will.." his hands now wrapped around your body, basically pulling you on top of him, placing you in his lap, "... I will never hurt you. You know that.." there was a hunger in his tone that you could clearly hear.

Something he could really barely control...

But you thought back to your time before he had left on this quest to find a fabled weapon that would make him a Shadow Warrior... And he had never given you a reason to think that he might hurt you.. and to be quite honest, you had yearned for his touch for a while...

"I know, Kayn..." You now cupped his face, the glance of the blood red eye still very unfamiliar to you, and kissed him deeply. You let yourself fall because you still trusted him... You knew that your Kayn wouldn't ever hurt you. You knew that he had excellent self control but this new... Creature that corrupted him seemed to make it physically hurt to be around you... In a way. "What do you need?" The young man closed his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath. His chest rumbled and his mouth moved when the other voice and his own growled "You."

A blush whichs color would make a cherry jealous slipped onto your cheeks, especially when both of his hands found your behind. Instinctively you bit your lip. Kayn however, looking a little dazed when his eyes opened, was still at war with himself. "She's mine, Rhaast!" The man growled, while the voice cackled and then said "Naive child. If I want her, I will have her. You cannot hold me forever."

You were so confused. Embarrassed too. Was someone around? Had Kayn been followed all this time and knew about it? Were you just imagining the voice? Or was it really the creature? "What's going on?" You asked, but gazing into this endless void of his left eye had you dazed as well. "The creature that I am fighting within my body can talk." He told you, half absentminded since his hands had started sliding around the fabric of your loose knotted attire. you hadn't felt the need to put on any underwear since you hadn't expected any company and Kayn was happy to discover that, untying the knot of the fabric that held your clothes together, making your dress fall off of your shoulders, pooling around your thighs.

You should be questioning your sanity, but you couldn't. it was like he had really entranced you.. and little did you know that Rhaast did. Just touching you could corrupt you in such a way... Since Kayn had not nearly mastered containing him as much as he wished.

"I want to feel you." He let you know, sliding his hands along your sides, pulling you right against him, feeling his body against you. Especially the bulge that had formed in his pants.

"I want to feel you too.." you said, your desire spiking now, your body heating up while you kissed him hungrily. In the back of your mind, you could now hear Rhaasts voice too. "Yes.. give into it..." And it seemed so easy... To just do whatever he said. To give into your pleasure. Yet, Kayn took his Time. His normal hand found your core, his fingers working it expertly, having your twitch and writhe on him while he now purred "Grind on me... Be a good girl..."

You felt a shudder run down your spine when he began circling your clit and you obeyed almost immediately, the fabric of his pants feeling incredibly good against your sensitive pussy. You hadn't felt anyone else for such a long time that just his words and fingers could bring you so close to the edge.

Little moans began to slip from your lips, your eyes closed in pleasure and only when his corrupted hand squeezed your chin you opened them to look at him. At this... Dark expression he held at this moment. This joy from seeing you whine and writhe.. yet with something threatening in his eyes.

You were grinding on his thigh, the cold air around you letting you feel even better. It also let you feel the intense heat from Kayns flesh against yours. it almost felt painful, like it would sear your flesh. "Kayn please.." you whined, still holding back your noises as much as you could.

"I want you to come." He almost snarled while now wrapping his hand around your throat, still pleasuring you with the other one, and squeezing lightly, getting you a little dizzy. Now, you sobbed, both hands grabbing onto the darkin flesh that pushed the air out of you. And in your delirious state... Well... You came, croaking out his name while your muscles tightened and then.. went slack. As did his hand, the one at your core wrapping around you, holding you by your back, the other wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you leaned against him. "More..." Rhaast demanded. "That wasn't nearly enough.. I need more!" But Kayn shook his head. "Mine. She's my jewel... Mine only."

Hoookay. Some Kayn x Reader.. do you guys want a part 2 where Rhaast manages to convince Kayn? Or just the normal smexy stuff? Or nothing at all? Lemme know!