#this was the scene i fell in love with then in the anime and now i am all giggly about them i cannot

[constantfragmentation]

Arcane S2 Thoughts

I've had a week to digest this season and well, I guess I have the unpopular opinion of being very disappointed. After the initial flash of gorgeous animation and some ooo's and awe's.... I was left with a bitter aftertaste. I can rewatch S1 loads of time. I don't think I can watch S2 again.

I'm happy for the fans that loved it and got what they wanted or the shippers that got what they wanted. I'm happy for you. Do your thing.

Me? Not so much. Even as a Silco fan (and I admit to squeeing for any footage of him at first), I'm not pleased. Yeah, my young Silco is a nerd, man-bun hottie, but that's where it ended for me. His entire characterization was nothing like the character I fell head over heels for in S1.

Vander's Flashback: I honestly don't find Felicia's inclusion necessary at all. In fact, I think it waters down everything between Silco and Vander. Their knowing her and the kids creates more questions, plotholes, and problems than it supposedly solves.

Why is Vander only in those memories with the kids? It's before the fallout with Silco. Why don't the kids know or remember nice Silco? Why do they only fear him (obv that's from Vander and Benzo, yes?)?

Why doesn't Silco seem to know Powder at Vander's dead body? Why would he kill Felicia's kids? None of it makes any fucking sense if he cared about Felicia. He hates Vander so much, he hates the kids too because he adopted them?

How the hell does S2 Young Silco turn into S1 Silco? Riot really messed this one up. Vander's attempted murder didn't change his entire personality.

It was a rebellion battle. People were going to get hurt and killed. They had to know this. So, whether Silco accidentally killed Felicia (as some fans are debating) or she died, is so damn dumb for Vander to solely blame Silco. Takes the kids, becomes a pacifist FIRST and then decides to (shave and grow younger) kill his brother for the greater good. Doesn't make one lick of sense narratively.

The narrative, characterization and animation inconsistencies don't help from S1 either. The drowning scene doesn't fit the S2 explanation. They're too young. Vander had a beard and appears much older on the bridge. Hell, S2 Young!Silco looks older than S1 Young!Silco. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. If people want to kiss Riot's ass, fine, but there was too much that was straight up lazy writing.

Silco's death is just glossed over considering how important he is. Silco did what Vander couldn't. Even without Shimmer, the Underground was thriving. Cait's mother's death/burial/statue gets more screen time and Silco gets dumped in the river. No one seems to question his death or what happened? Yeah, ok.

I'll use this moment to complain about the excessive music video montages this season too. I watched S1 again and the writing and use of music worked in unison and enhanced scenes. S2 felt like scenes in between music videos and it was irritating.

There was so much screentime wasted that could have been good dialogue heavy scenes that S1 was great at. Instead, time wasted on poorly executed plotlines that needed way more time to flesh out (Mel, Ekko and Viktor) and we have slowmo music videos and MCU fight scenes. Hermie's guitar song and Mission Impossible jokster crap was laughable and not in a good way.

Riot tried to pack too much into one season, and it was a mess. This season felt like watching a Marvel movie. Cool action sequences with little to no substance. All the nuance and grit from last season were gone in favor of the 'good vs. bad' trope. All the political-societal issues in S1 were abandoned that were far more fascinating to explore.

Mel has superpowers now? It feels all out of place. Her, Ambessa, and the Black Rose plot have zero time to make it interesting and plausible. She was introduced as this master manipulator/politician and her sage persona feels so forced.

Jesus Demigod Viktor was too much. I was excited for the Machine Herald and the psychedelic Arcane magical multiverse took me out. Making him to be the big baddie and timeloop it around to Jayce felt like a big cop out. Viktor deserved better. Hell, Jayce deserved better.

So much was sacrificed to make the whole Arcane magic THE point of the series when it was one of the least interesting aspects of the show. Hextech for weapons and the continuing problems between Piltover and Zaun was RIPE for storytelling. It seems each act needed several episodes to cover.

Ekko sure as fuck deserved better than that half assed time warp with Hermie. The AU really bothered me. Everything felt wrong. EVERYTHING. Nothing was explained well at all. It felt like complete fan service at the expense of the characters. Before people rip me saying "well duh! It was an AU!". You don't assassinate characters and plot to have a happy ending that insults your viewers.

They turned Zaun (its own cool character) into the bargain basement of Piltover. How is it sunny and pretty? Really? Mirror tricks? Everyone just forgave Piltover after years of oppression?

You're telling me Vi's death saved humanity? Fuck that shit right now. Piltover just stopped because a kid died? Suddenly everything became better? What happened to Jayce? Viktor? Hell, Hermie after decades didn't give two shits about Zaun, so what changed with the Council? Where's Singed? I don't buy it.

I don't buy Jinx/Powder being super normal smart girl. I LOVE JInx, but I believe she had mental issues prior breaking into Jayce's apartment. I don't think Vi's death made that go away (as I don't believe Silco's death did either). As someone who battles with mental health, this is insulting to me as a viewer.

I hated AU Silco. There. I said it. He just forgave Vander? Really? Bullshit. The reason Vander tried to kill him is stupid. A simple letter changed Silco? That fluffy-haired softy is not Silco. I can't imagine that Silco being the one who fought a rebellion. He probably would not have become a mob boss peddling drugs but this AU softboi dad feels so wrong. I never would have stanned AU Silco. Not in a million years.

S1 Silco's traits didn't magically appear because Vander betrayed him. The young S1 Silco had to be similar in many ways to older S1 Silco. Drive, ambition, ruthlessness, willing to die for a cause. I don't see Felicia's death changing that. I certainly don't see Vi's death changing that.

If Vander needed to kill Silco to stop the violence, etc, it's because he saw Silco as a threat to him or society as a whole. S1 Vander is known as The Hound. So, he seems to be violent as well. He takes credit for building the Underground when Felicia credits both 'bozos' for it. So Vander being upset she died and blaming Silco to the point of murder is a slap in the face to fans' intelligence.

I do hate that by Vi's death, everything is magically better. I can't express how much I hate that. AU Powder was irritating and was nothing like my Jinx that I love. Again so much wasted time that could have been better spent on good character driven scenes that actually advance the plot.

Pointless characters. Introduce Isha (who I adored). Make her seem important to Jinx. Kill her and never mention her again. So what was the point of her inclusion this season? Just to make Jinx suicidal? I hated that also. Again WASTED SCREENTIME.

Oh, and Caitvi was a disgrace. I think shippers deserved better here, too. Caitlyn goes crazy dictator because of guilt over her mom. Granted, Caitvi only knew each other for a week-ish? Not a lot of time to make their relationship serious past an infatuation. Cait turns from all her good points last season to Ambessa's padawan.

Don't get me started on that side piece Maddie. Really? Cait you were that hard up? And that long awaited sex scene was a big eye roll. Vi goes to her sister, and shit goes to hell, and a few minutes later, she's fucking Cait in the same cell. Vi was reduced to shit this season.

I mean, these characters just got shafted in every way for a high speed train wreck ending that we've seen a million times in Disneyfied stories. Action sequences were more important than actual character development and plot.

You can't make me believe that one speech from Jayce 'seeing a possible future' suddenly got Zaun to work with and dress up as Piltover soldiers? Really?

I had high hopes for Sevika, and the girl got shit nothing to do except in two episodes. Her seat on the Council feels like a last-minute decision and not worthy enough to expand on.

What made S1 so great was the class divide between Zaun and Piltover and how it affected the characters. S2 decided to scrap that and go with the easy good vs evil trope instead. Even the parallels didn't have the same hit as last season.

I did like Jinx talking to her 'ghost' Silco in the jail cell. He was calming to her in contrast to Milo/Claggor except the implication that she should die (that's what I got out of that).

We didn't even get much from Singed. Yeah, he got his daughter back (in some form) but his story was so blah. We didn't get nearly enough of him and Warwick and what made Warwick.

I guessed a few years ago it was going to be Vander but I didn't like how it was handled.

Too many plotlines all rushed together without getting any decent screentime and explanations that don't confuse or insult viewers intelligence. OR you have to be a LOL fan/player to understand. I never played LOL before S1 and wasn't confused as to the main plot.

I loved all the characters in S1 and felt they were pretty much watered down or assassinated in S2 for an apocalyptical Demigod villain vs humanity battle done to death finale.

The Zaun/Piltover political-societal problems, parallels, corruption, science going wrong, pathway to hell paved with good intentions themes from S1 was so much better in every single aspect.

I'm still a fan of S1 and the characters and frankly, I'm going to ignore 95% of S2.

[dazaii]

the chokehold this scene still has on me

[sketchraptor]

I had to pee so bad at the end of the movie… and I was still upset that it had ended when it did

Spiderverse thots

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

[satorusugurugurl]

Here's some funny ideas I've got while at work today; a leisure streamer gojo who'd just simply streamed himself playing games naked except for his sunglasses and briefs. Rumors had it that each time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to see him ~fully naked~.

The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie!

Summary: Rumor had it the top donor of the-strongest-streamers chats get to see him naked! Now that you're the top donor will you get to see the goods or was it just a rumor. Time will tell.

Pairing: Streamer!Gojo x FAB!Reader

Warnings: language, nudity, masturbation, mutual-masturbation, skype sex??

A/N: I fell in love with this request! ugjskdkekd I love them so much! Thank you bonnie for such a great idea!! 💚💚💚

Part Two Part Three Part Four

On Friday nights, you always ran home from your last college class, avoiding people on bikes and walking by. You often got dirty looks thrown at you or the occasional ‘watch where you're going.’ But nothing would stop your stride. Friday nights were some of your favorite nights of the week. All because the-strongest-streamer live streamed on Fridays.

And the man, god fuck, he was the hottest!

Gojo Satoru, aka the-strongest-streamer, was a leisure streamer. He played games like Animal Crossing, Dream Daddy, and fluffy feel-good games in only his boxers and sunglasses. He was among the most popular streamers, not only for his looks but also for his happy-go-lucky attitude. But because of a particular rumor that started going around.

It was said in the forms online, in his comments, and even on Twitter that every time his all-time top donor was replaced, the new one would get to join a private stream with him and see him fully naked. That was just a rumor. He had denied the allegations and made it clear that the private stream was to have a meet and greet with his top donor.

The meet and greet was why you’ve been saving money for six months. You wanted to meet the man who had brought you so much joy in the last year. You stumbled across his profile when looking through videos online. You were looking for a cute cat compilation to ease the ache in your heart after your boyfriend dumped you. Instead, you found this goofball that had you smiling like an idiot on your phone.

You had been in a dark time when you first found his videos. You wanted to express your gratitude to him. Seeing him naked was not your goal in any way, shape, or form.

The second you got home, you slid over to your laptop and pulled up Gojo’s stream. He was sprawled out in his black and blue gaming chair; blue LED lights illuminated the room. Black sunglasses reflected his computer screen as he adjusted his headset.

“Tom Nook is a scammer.” He announced as hundreds of comments flooded in. “The little shit asks me to do all this for him! After all, I have to spend my hard-earned bells on upgrading the pavers. Kiss my nicely toned ass, you bastard.” You smiled, giggling as you dreamily watched him. “Ya’ know what? Next week, we'll play Sims or something; I’d rather build a house than have Tom Nook steal all my money.”

He adjusted his sunglasses as he slipped on some frappe, the logo conveniently covered so no one knew where he was. Several comments flooded in asking what he was drinking, and most people sent in small donations. All of these were things Satoru tried to answer and thank. He may miss a couple here and there, but he tried hard to get to everyone. God, he was so down to earth.

It was all of those reasons that had you clicking the donate button, sending a total of eight hundred dollars to him. Your cute little icon of a mochi popped up on his screens, flashing while music blared. The whole scene reflected off his dark sunglasses.

“Eh?!” The white tufts of his hair flowed as he moved in, focus glued to the screen. “Whoa! Whoa! Mochi-gurl-89, thank you so much for that donation!” With a chipper chime, you took the spot as his top donor. “And it looks like you're my new top donor! Just before the stream ended! I'll have one of my admins contact you so we can do our private stream. And with this, I adore you all, until next time this is the-strongest-streamer signing off!”

The second he ended his stream, your inbox chimed with a new message. As Satoru said, it was a message from one of his admins. The message was clear; you got a thirty-minute stream, maybe more if Satoru agreed. There could be no recording of your conversation or photos, which was perfectly fine. All you wanted to do was talk. After agreeing to all those terms and signing a nondisclosure form, you were sent a link to your private stream.

You had your camera off, your cute chibi mochi avatar taking up your screen as Satoru’s room was fully displayed. With a deep breath, you shook your hands, trying to ease your nerves as a door opened on Satoru’s screen. A second later, he plopped down in his gaming chair. God, he was so handsome. Fluffy white hair and chiseled abs like he was carved from marble; he was just your type.

“Hello?” he asked, “you there, mochi-gurl-89?”

“O-Oh! Uhm, yes, hi!” He stared at the screen, frowning just a bit as he saw your avatar instead of your face.

“Here, I thought I’d be talking to a fan. Instead, it's a cute mochi ball.”

You nervously giggle before clicking a few times and turning your camera on. You felt so plain compared to him. He was incredibly sexy, and you were just an average college girl. In your opinion, there wasn’t much to see.

“Oh.” Satoru breathed out, drawing your attention back to the screen. You swear to God, you choked on your breath. Because he had taken his sunglasses off, revealing cerulean eyes behind white lashes. “Wow, you're fuckin’ hot.”

“Oh! Uhm—”

“Fuck! Sorry, did I say that out loud?” he sulked back in his chair. “I'm so sorry. I'm not one of those creeps who stalk their followers. I, I was expecting—”

“A giant ball of mochi?” The sweetness of your voice seems to have him relaxing as he realizes you didn't mind his compliment.

“Exactly.”

You cup some of your hair behind your ear, biting your lip. “Sorry to disappoint, but thank you for the compliment.”

“And thank you for the generous donation! That means a lot to me.”

“Thank you for being such a beacon of light in my life.” Did popular streamers think comments like that were cringe? “I hope that doesn’t come off creepy or weird.”

“I've had fans send me their underwear. Being a beacon of light to you is the least weirdest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

You can't help the wide, warm smile that spreads across your face. “You have no clue how happy that makes me. I went through a nasty break and the night that it happened. I found one of your—” his fingers played with the hem of his boxers. “Your stream—and you—” fingers gently lift the hem, and you focus on his face. “Uhm Gojo?” The man on your screen hums.

“Yes, mochi-gurl?”

“I—I heard about you getting naked for the private streams.” Using your hands, you shield your vision. “B-But you don't have to do that! I just wanted to talk.”

“Eh?!” peeking through your fingers, you watch the white-haired man turn red. “Naked! No! No shit fuck, I'm sorry! I'm not a perv, I swear to god.” He shields his face in his hands, grumbling some incoherent words that you can't make out.

Gojo didn't seem like the type to be a pervert, and from his reaction, it wasn't like you’d caught him fully undressing in front of you. If anything, he seemed more embarrassed than you. After gathering your thoughts, you leaned a bit closer to your screen.

“Gojo?”

His white hair flies as his head jerks up. “I-I know about the rumors! How I get nude for my private streams for my top donors, but that is nothing more than a rumor, I swear!” Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you, into your soul. “I promise you I wasn't about to do anything remotely weird.” His face is almost entirely red, and his bottom lip is between his teeth as he scans your features.

“Okay,” you tentatively begin, “then what were you doing?”

“That's the thing; it's going to sound ten times worse when I tell you what I was doing.” you motion with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, just promise you won't put me on blast or try to cancel me?” When you nod, the leisure streamer grumbles before tilting his head back. “I-I’m sorry, but you're really hot. Like super mega hot.” Thank god your room is so dark, or he could see how flushed you were. “So hot, my stupid dick decided to spot a hard-on.” He rolls his chair back just an inch, revealing the extremely hard bulge in his boxers. “I was trying to discreetly lift the waistband so you wouldn't see how hard I was.”

A string of ‘I’m sorry’ echoes on the other end of the screen. Gojo’s blue eyes focused on you, waiting to see how you reacted to the news. His shy demeanor and the bulge in his boxers have you shifting in your seat. Heat pools between your thighs. God, were you getting wet? Rubbing your thighs together, you confirmed that you were as you felt your arousal. You bite down on your inner cheek to prevent a moan from sounding.

“Hey, mochi-gurl? You're too quiet, and you look super pissed. I'm sorry.” Gojo’s voice seems to enhance your growing arousal. He sits back, cocking a brow as you peer at him with dark needy eyes through your lashes. “H-Hey you go-goo—oh fuck.” He watches as you stick your hand between your legs.

“You think I’m hot?” Your voice is so smooth, with desire.

“Y-Yeah, super hot.” Gojo follows suit, his hand reaching back down, fingertips slipping under the band of his boxers. “The hottest fuckin’ girl I've ever seen.”

Pressing your fingers against your shorts, you rub your clit in slow circles. “Gojo, you’re girlfriend won't find us doing this?” The man on the screen before you scoff, his hand sliding fully into his boxers.

“Girlfr-ahh—” his hand moved up and down, “fuuuck—what girlfriend? I-I go to the gym, hang out with my friends, and live stream.” Watching him stroke himself has you feeling feral. “Plus streaming half naked, well, let's just say girls don't like that.”

You rubbed your clit faster, “As a girl, I like it.” White brows knitted on your screen. “I like it a lot; it's so hot.” Gojo watched, head resting back against his chair as you slid your hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts, massaging yourself.

“Y-Yeah? Does your boyfriend like it?”

“I don't have one~”

Gojo growled, biting down on his lip. “Really?” He leaned back, spreading his legs apart. “Lucky me.” Pursing your lips together, you tilted your head back. “Fuck, you're so fucking hot, sweetheart.” something overcame you. A boldness you hadn’t experienced before. Taking the bottom of your T-shirt, you put it between your teeth and lifted it, revealing your bare chest to your favorite streamer. “Oooh fuck, you have the prettiest tits.” Gojo watched as your fingers moved elegantly over your skin, kneading your breast until your nipples were hard. “How rude of me, you’re showing me yours might as well show you mine.”

A choke sounds in your throat as you nearly release your T-shirt from between your teeth. Gojo had pulled his boxers down just enough to hook them underneath his balls, freeing his gorgeous cock. His cock throbbed and twitched underneath his hand as he gently began stroking it up and down. Watching him stroking himself, twisting his wrist, squeezing it just around the tip, causing his head to tilt back, and seeing that made you do something you had never done.

Gojo could hear you shuffling in the background before your screen suddenly turned, and he faced a couch. You plopped down, your shorts discarded. With his jaw dropped open, Gojo watched as you spread your legs as wide as you could in front of the camera and rubbed your fingers over your wet pussy. You had never done something like this before. Sexting, yes, but full-on masturbating in front of a stranger, this was something you never thought you would do.

“Holy, you're so wet.” his hand sped up around his cock. “God, look at you. You’re so fucking pretty.” his thumb brushed over the slit rubbing pre-cum over the tip. “God, I wanna taste you. I bet you smell fucking delicious.”

“I want to suck you off, fuck, Gojo~ fuuuck.” coding your fingers in your slick, you rub quick, fast circles around your clit, causing your legs to tremble. “Gojo~ Gojo~”

“N-No, call me Satoru, please.”

“Satoru~”

Goj—Satoru tilts his head forward, his burning gaze on you, watching you slide a finger inside your tight heat. You don't think you've ever been so aroused. Having a stranger watching you finger yourself as he jerks off had your walls clenching around your fingers. Satoru must have thought the same thing because his tip dribbles more pre-cum, his cock throbbing hard as he matches his pace with yours.

“Oh god, I'm so wet.” Slick coats your fingers as you rub your clit with your thumb. “I can't remember the last time I was this wet.”

“I can tell, god, you're soaked.” Glancing at the screen, you can see Satoru gritting his teeth. “Oh fuck, I-I’m so hard it hurts, I-I’ve never done this before. God feels so good; all my brain is thinking is, ‘dick hard, feel good.’”

The conversation dies down, replaced with whines, moans, and grunts of pleasure. Your eyes never miss each other. You both constantly look each other over, whispering each other’s names like prayers. You try to imagine how his thick, long fingers would feel inside of you instead of your own. You know that he could reach the sweet spots inside you that you loved. At the same time, Satoru imagines replacing his hand with your own while his fingers take the place of yours.

Both of you are so worked up that you find yourself dangling over the edge of an orgasm before you know it. Your legs are trembling, toes curling, while Satoru’s hand moves faster his other hand, reaching down, cupping his balls, massaging them. Both of you are lost in each other’s pleasure without even touching the other. There’s chemistry between you. Both you and Satoru can feel it through the screen.

“Oh fuck, of fuck, fuuuuck fuck!” Satoru leans closer to his screen to watch you. “Oh god, I can feel it coming; it’s gonna be a big one. Baby~ fuuuck, please tell me you’re close.”

“S-So close.” a sharp inhale of breath sounds, “Oooh fuckin’ shit, Satoru, I’m gonna cum~.”

“Oi.” your eye hazily find him, “look at me when you cum.”

That, god, that was the hottest thing anyone has ever told you. “Cummin! Oh fuck, Satoru~! Satorruu!” the screen that leaves your body almost doesn’t sound human as you squirt all over your couch. Even though your orgasm is the hardest one you’ve ever experienced, not once do your eyes leave his.

“Good girl~ good fuckin girl.” his praises leave your cunt twitching. “Oh fuck, gonna fill you up all the way. Tell me you want it. Please.”

“Yes~ Satoru, inside~ inside~!”

The veins and his neck protrude as he slams his free fist against his desk, causing his setup to shake. Ropes and ropes of white cum spurt out of his cock. The sticky substance coats his abdomen, on the top of his thighs and hand.

“Fuck~ fuck~fuuuck!” His hand continues, moving up and down his shaft, milking his cock for all that it’s worth. “Fuuuck!” he hisses out through clenched teeth.

Several seconds pass, both of you breathing heavily, recovering from your orgasms. Swallowing hard at your dry throat, you slowly pull your fingers out of you with a wince. Satoru was the next move, grabbing some tissues off his desk and cleaning himself up. You can’t help but laugh softly in the silence of cleaning yourselves.

Hearing the angelic sound leaving your mouth, Satoru focuses his blue eyes on you. “What’s got you giggly over there?” much to his disappointment, you slide your shorts back on before sitting back on the couch.

“That was one hell of a meet and greet.”

Satoru’s lets out a rough laugh.”Yeah, it sure as hell was. I think I owe you a proper meet and greet.” The streamer let out a content sigh. “Are you free tomorrow night? I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have.” he leans back, fixing his boxers.

“Think you can keep your boner down long enough for that?”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I can’t make any promises that it’ll behave.”

“Huh, what if I don’t want it to behave?”

Flushed cheeks darken in color as Satoru’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “Goddamn, you're so hot. Who knew some chick with a mochi avatar was going to have me stroking my cock tonight.” God, he was so cute, both physically and in personality. “Which is super cute, by the way. Did you do it yourself, or did you have an artist commission it? Because I am in dire need of some new avatar artwork for my videos.”

“I drew it myself. I’m a freelance graphic design artist.”

“You takin’ commissions right now, Miss oh-so-hot-and-talented?”

“If I get this job I want tomorrow, I might have to take a brief break. But I would make an exception for you.”

Satoru opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a knock on the door behind him. “Shit, sorry, I gotta go; I promised my roommate I would help him hook up a computer upstairs.” With one final glance in your direction, Satoru, for once, was elated over a rumor that had spread about him over the Internet. “Tomorrow same time, mochi-gurl?”

“Sounds great, Satoru.”

After bidding farewell to the exceptionally hot man, you pass out on the couch. From the excitement of getting to meet your favorite streamer to the intensity of your orgasm. The combination of those contributing factors knocked you on your ass. While your neck was stiff, falling asleep like that on the couch allowed you to get some of the best sleep in months.

You woke up refreshed and ready for your interview that morning. Satoru had put a peep in your step as you walked into the coffee shop you had an interview with. The owner wanted to develop a new logo design for the shop. One that was both warm, welcoming, and had an adorable mascot.

“Wow,” The man across from you flips through your portfolio, “you're talented. You’re just a freelance artist?”

“Mhmm, I don’t like big corporations. I would rather help out small businesses and help support our local community.”

The man interviewing you brushes dark bangs out of his face, his tongue running over his lip piercing. “We love supporters of small businesses. People like you that keep our place going.” He brushes long, dark strands of hair before his dark eyes leave the page before him, meeting your nervous gaze. “Which is why I think you would be a great fit. Your art is exactly what I’m looking for when I think of our logo.”

“Really? That’s so good to hear. I promise you I won’t disappoint you. I’ll be sure to make your dreams come true.”

Your interviewer shuts your portfolio, handing it back to you. He held out his hand, his nails painted black, and his rings on almost every finger. When you first walked into this cute café, you were intimidated by the stranger. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, and his gauges were huge, but he couldn't have been any nicer. So, without hesitation, you stood up, shaking his hand.

“I'm looking forward to doing business with you, Geto.”

“Same goes for me; I’ll give you a tour and introduce you to everyone.”

Rainbow Dragon Cafe recently went viral for its excellent coffee, pastries, and aesthetic. Not only was it a café, but it was also a gaming café. There is a bar where people can enjoy their coffee and booths where they can sit down and work on projects if needed. On one wall, there’s a large flat-screen TV playing compilations of different streamers talking to the camera as they play games. A large sectional couch was set up in front of it so people could sit down and watch if they wanted to.

The other wall was set up so that people could take photos with the company's logo behind them. That was if they had a logo, which is where you came in. For the next few months, your job was to help the owner, Geto Suguru, design and revamp his menu and website. Once you succeed in your mission, a cute neon sign with the logo will be placed on the wall, covered in fake vines and flowers. It is the perfect spot to take photos and hashtag the cafe in their posts.

“This is Shoko; she manages the front and helps run orders to tables.” A woman with dark brown hair waved at you casually as she passed a cigarette in her mouth and headed for the front.

“Taking a smoke break, I’ll be right back.”

Geto led you into the back, where an espresso machine hissed. “Back here is Ryomen Sukuna; he is my best barista.” The muscular, pink-haired man in front of you, covered in tattoos, slammed a rag down on the counter.

“I'm not some fucking barista; I’m the king of coffee.”

“Right, king of coffee, sorry.” Geto introduced you to several other workers. Most of them were just high schoolers working there as a part-time. Itadori, Fushiguro, and Kugisaki waved at you before returning to doing their inventory. “And you’ll meet my girls eventually. They said something about getting more couches or pillows for the front. They’re the head of our social media team.”

You lean over the counter with Geto, overlooking the shop that you were hired to help. “I love the setup you guys have. It’s got my creative juices flowing.” Glancing at the TV, you watch a compilation of different streamers reacting to jump scares. “But I’m curious. Why make it a gaming cafe?” Geto follows your gaze, humming at your question.

“That’s all because of my best friend. I didn’t want just to run a cafe and bookstore; I wanted to do something different. He pitched the idea. A place for people to sip coffee, read a book, or play video games.”

“Sounds like he’s a good friend.”

“He is.” Geto jerks his thumb in the direction of a door. “He rents out the basement while I live in the loft upstairs. He's an investor; you might get to meet him if he ever drags his stupid ass out of the basement.”

“Oh, that wou—”

Before you finish your sentence, the door Geto is still pointing at is slammed open. “Suguru! Hey, do you think I could borrow that blue shirt of y-you—” God, if you hadn’t been holding onto the counter, you might’ve passed out? Blue eyes that had been locked and focused on the night before met your gaze. You almost didn’t recognize him because he was wearing clothes. “H-Holy shit, mochi-gurl?!”

Your favorite leisure streamer, the man you had masturbated with the night before, was standing right in front of you—more like towering over at a total of six three feet. Words seem to evade you as you stutter. “G-Gojo?” Why was the room spinning all of a sudden?

“Hey, I thought we went over this last night. You can call me Satoru!” his smile fades as soon as it appears on his face. “Sweetheart? Oh shi—” He’s rushing forward just as your world fades to black due to shock.

This was a dream right, it had to be a dream!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

featuring - Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader, Buggy x F!Reader, Shanks x F!Reader, Brook x F!Reader, Chopper x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - my first time writing for ALL of these characters, so i'm sorry if i get their characters wrong! im only 416 episodes into the anime. i tried my best!

a/n - this was requested by @faioula16, i hope you like it!

MIHAWK

This could honestly go either way. This guy is unpredictable and even you never know what his next move will be. But you're his faithful and loving girlfriend, so there are some exceptions when it comes to you. Like when some deranged devil fruit user turns you into a baby, and Mihawk could have had someone else take care of you, but he wanted to do it himself. He was curious, now that it was you who was an infant.

But that may also be because a witness to the scene had expressed fear for infant you, saying that Mihawk was too cold and ruthless to take care of a baby. He didn't need to prove otherwise, and he didn't want to, but something just gnawed at him. Protectiveness, maybe. You were in such a vulnerable state right now, only he could protect you and care for you.

It had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that you looked so adorable staring at him with your big (eye colour) eyes, reaching out to tap his because the strange colour fascinated you. No, it had nothing to do with how cute your excited squeal was every time he picked you up or looked at you. He was absolutely not entranced by your cute little smile or how you clung to him with little hands that could barely hold his one finger. Absolutely not.

Mihawk is actually a pretty good babysitter. But only for you. He will sit and read to you with you on his lap, trying not to smile when you giggle and smack the book, always catching you when you lunged forward excitedly and almost fell off his lap. He will never finish the story, but he reads to you anyway because you seem to like it...for a little while.

"(Name), no!"

He almost had a heart attack when he set you down for one second to put the book away, and you almost fell off the table because you were trying to crawl to him. Your eyes filled with tears when he yelled, even if he hadn't meant to sound angry. His gaze softened, and he picked up and cradled you against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. You're fine, little one."

And then you really are fine, your little body comforted by his actions and words. They lull you into sleep, and soon you rest on his shoulder and fall into a deep sleep, gripping his shirt collar tightly in your tiny fist.

"Sleep well, (Name)."

When you awake, in your usual adult form, you're too nervous to suggest it, but thankfully Mihawk is thinking the same thing.

"I think I'd like a little you or me to keep me company."

BUGGY

Buggy is horrible with children. I mean he's not great with people, but he is absolutely, terrifyingly not good with kids at all. So when you were somehow turned into a tiny human being who could barely stand on two legs, he was shocked. And slightly scared, though he would never admit it. You were the only person he genuinely liked, so he tried not to be too...rough, with your little form. Picking you up was as far as he got, but even then he held you out awkwardly like a football.

And then you squealed and happily reached for his nose, the bright red circular appendage attracting your attention instantly. Now, Buggy was sensitive about his nose, but he let you touch it. A testament to how much he liked you. And, if he were being honest, you were actually kind of cute squeezing his nose like that until he couldn't breath-

Exhale out the mouth.

When he remembered he could use his mouth to breathe, he smiled a little at how much you were enjoying yourself playing with his nose. You even touched his makeup and all his markings, out of curiosity. Your eyes were bright with confusion but also fascination, and it did something weird to Buggy. Made him feel...warm inside?

Then he decided to, experimentally, see what your reaction to his devil fruit would be in this tiny form. He set you down on the floor again, and then detached his hand. Your eyes went wide and you instantly covered your eyes with your small hands, your bottom lip trembling. He panicked, tripping over himself and falling into a tangled heap in front of you. You peeked between your fingers to see this, then burst out into cute laughter. Buggy almost glared at you, but then remembered you were just a baby and instead picked himself up and smiled - or rather tried his best not to smile like a maniac - at you.

Then you saw his floating hand, and grabbed it.

"No no, (Name), that's not-"

You stuck his fingers in your mouth, and he groaned. You just giggled innocently, and only then did he realise his devil fruit could be a source of entertainment for you. He detached multiple limbs and floated them around, watching as you squealed in glee and crawled around trying to catch them.

Were you actually having fun because of him?

When he finally put his body back together again, you pouted but crawled up to his leg and hugged it, gurgling happily as if to thank him. He was stunned. He slowly picked you up and you offered him a toothless smile, before yawning. Still unsure, he laid you on his shoulder and awkwardly patted your back, but that seemed to work because you slowly fell asleep.

When you woke up again, finally an adult, you grinned at him, "Shall we make you a father?"

SHANKS

It was his fault, really. He picked the fight, contrary to his usual behaviour. But that guy had said something about you, and he couldn't ignore it, so of course he acted. And now here you were, a tiny baby fisting his shirt in your tiny hand and looking up at him with big, curious (eye colour) eyes. He had experience with children, of course, having spent some time with Luffy. But you were so small, so delicate.

"Captain, what-"

He ignored the confused questions from his crew as he brought you back on board the ship, immediately taking you to his quarters. It shouldn't last long, he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty. Though that quickly disappeared when you giggled and crawled around his quarters, knocking things over and hiding with a loud giggle when he caught you.

"Oi, (Name)!" He tried to sound stern, he really did, but his laugh have his mood away. You stuck your head out from under his bed and stuck your tiny tongue out at him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, you're cute, sweetheart."

He lifted you up again and you squealed excitedly and reached for his hair, the bright colour attracting your attention. He grinned and put you on his head, keeping his hands on your small waist, and soon felt you tug on his red strands. You were giggling and pulling and kicking your legs happily, so he endured the pain just for your sake. It was very cute how you thought his hair was a toy, and by the time you got tired of it, it was a mess. Strands were everywhere, out of place, sticking out...but it didn't matter to him.

Because now you were looking at him with your big, innocent eyes and suckling on your hand as he cradled you against his chest. He gently rubbed your back and pressed a soft kiss to your tiny tuft of (hair colour) hair.

"You're so pretty even as a baby, (Name)."

You rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, making him laugh. He sat on his bed with you still in his arms, watching as you grew tired and offered him the cutest sight - the tiniest of yawns.

"Sleep, little one."

He gently rocked you to sleep, reassuringly and soothingly patting your small back as you drifted off on his shoulder. He felt warm inside, as if a small fire had been lit inside him. He knew what it was.

And when you woke up in adult form, he grinned at you, "Let me give you a baby, sweetheart."

BROOK

Brook has experience with babies. Maybe not human babies, but babies nonetheless. He knows a human baby is very different to a whale baby, but he figures that there can be similarities too. Such as entertainment, which is his area of expertise. So when he looks down at his feet to see baby you tugging on his pants, he is somewhat prepared. He has no idea how you were turned into a baby, of course, but he's not complaining because you are so, so adorable.

"What happened to (Name)?" Franky asked the skeleton, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing important!" Was Brook's gleeful reply, followed by a laugh when you somehow crawled on top of his afro and knocked his hat off so you could take its place.

"Nothing imp-" Franky sighed. "Do you even know how to look after a baby?" Franky's eyes worriedly drifted to where you sat upon the skeleton's head, tugging on his afro and squealing with delight. You wobbled precariously.

"No, but it can't be any different to a baby whale!"

Franky would have commented on that, if you hadn't slipped off Brook's head. The cyborg easily caught you, before holding you out to Brook, "Don't let her sit on your head."

"Noted."

For the rest of the day, Brook occupied you by sitting you down on his bed and playing music for you, telling you stories about Laboon and his crew, and about his experiences in the Grand Line before you guys found him. He sang all sorts of songs, played all sorts of melodies, while you giggled and clapped your hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. Brook smiled, the sight warming heart - oh, but he doesn't have a heart. He hardly ever got tired, but you prompted him to play for hours on end, until he really was exhausted. So he picked you up, settled on his bed, and lay you on his lap before humming a tune. You slowly drifted off to sleep, and Brook smiled.

He hoped he could play for one of the crew's babies one day.

CHOPPER

Another island, another mishap, another adventure. No trip is ever boring with the Straw Hats, and this was again proven when an unfortunate encounter with a devil fruit user who could change people's ages led to you being turned into an infant. And that's how you found yourself cradled in Sanji's arms, with Chopper trying to get a good look at you all throughout the walk back to the Sunny.

"Chopper, she's fine," the cook tried to assure the doctor, but Chopper was having none of it.

He was so worried, because no one was equipped to take care of a baby, and he cared about you so much that now you were a baby, he was becoming overprotective. As soon as Sanji set you down somewhere safe for Chopper to examine you, he was grabbing his bag and bringing out all his different tools. He checked all your vitals and made sure you were first and foremost healthy, before he could consider anything else.

Then you touched his blue nose and widened your eyes in fascination, gurgling softly, and Chopper blushed brightly. He smiled and poked your nose back, and you let out the cutest giggle that melted the reindeer's little heart. He shifted to his humanoid form and gently lifted you up into his arms, cradling you as he gazed down at you with the utmost love, adoration and fascination he could manage. You were so tiny, even more so than him, and so so cute. Then you sneezed, looking stunned for a moment before giggling loudly. And Chopper thought there was nothing more joy-inducing than holding and watching baby you.

"Chopper, where's-oh." Nami stopped when she saw Chopper standing there just holding you, one of his fingers in your tiny hand as he cooed at you and made you giggle. She smiled softly and left the room, deciding you were in safe hands.

"You're the cutest baby in the world, (Name)," Chopper told you. You just smiled brightly, exposing your gums cause you had no teeth, and waved your small arms around happily.

Chopper was really good with you. He monitored you throughout the 24 hours, making sure you ate properly, got enough sleep and were bathed properly. He is probably the best caretaker out of all the men on this list, not only because he's doctor but he's naturally caring and nurturing. It comes like second nature to him. Besides, you were such a calm and quiet baby - except for the giggling - that you made it easy for him. He was almost sad when you fell asleep, knowing you'd be grown up again when you woke up.

But maybe one day the crew would be able to fawn over a baby everyday. Maybe one day.

[kissohee]

virgin!anton x virgin!fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 2k+ ☆ one-shot mdni! synopsis; after being together for so long, you would think you've already done everything in the books, but there's only one you haven't done yet. and that's sex. warnings; anton is bigger than reader, extremely lighthearted, mentions of masturbation, anton is big, dry humping, protected sex, they cum quickly

"You've got to see this video," Anton barges into your room, throwing his bag on your floor, "It's seriously the cutest thing ever." You look up at him from where you were sitting on your bed, moving your laptop off your lap and onto your desk next to you. "What is it?" "Cats. Two of them." He hands you his phone, kicking off his shoes to get comfortable, "I won't spoil it."

When you started dating Anton around a year ago, you knew his love and affection also came with cute animal videos. He sees a cute animal, he sends it right to you. Might even add a text saying "Us" or "You" but he's never saved them to show you in person. You watch the video nonetheless, it being a video about a cat who fell in love with another cat, even having kittens, and the rest of the video is just cute clips of them two. "It's us." Anton looks at you with a cheesy smile when you hand him his phone back. "It's very cute but, 'Ton..." You tilt your head, "You came here to show me a video of cats?" Anton didn't exactly live close by to where you did, so it was very rare when he came over. "Well," His head sinks into his shoulders, "I wanted an excuse to see you." You pull the blanket off of you and open your arms for him to accept your hug. Despite his big figure, he wraps his arms around your waist and lays on top of you. "You never need an excuse to see me, you know that.." He digs his head into your chest, and you bring a hand up to run fingers through his hair. "You missed me?" "Mmhmm.." He nods gently to not disturb your hand and he looks up at you. "I missed you too." Is all you're able to say before Anton lifts himself up to kiss you. You instantly reciprocate the kiss and hold his face in your hands.

Despite being together for so long, all you and Anton have ever done was make out. And even though each make out gets progressively more and more desperate and needy, you guys never put too much thought into having sex. It came up only a few times, and one was because because you guys were watching a movie that had a sex scene. You were holding Anton in your arms and he quietly mentioned it. "Do you think we'll ever have sex?" Anton was never the type to openly talk about things he wanted, so the fact that he said even something as simple as that shocked you. "Do you want to?" You always believed that it would happen when it happens, and you knew he felt the same way. "Not right now.." His eyes glued on the movie, "But eventually." The second time it came up was when he got his first boner with you. It happened during your first heated make out session. It was the first time he ever made you moan, and that was when he was leaving hickeys all around your neck and chest. You had felt him grow under you, nervous that if you brought it up you'd scare him. "Anton..?" He paused his actions and when he finally caught up with his dick he lightly pushed you off of him, covering it with his hands. "Oh my god," You heard panic in his voice, "I'm so sorry." His reaction made you hold back a laugh, "Why are you sorry?" His cheeks flushed "I don't know... It's.." He found himself having trouble forming sentences, "That's so gross of me, I don't know why it.." "You're a male human," You rest your head on his shoulder, "I don't think it's gross... It happens." You both sat there in silence, and when Anton realized it wasn't going down any time soon, he excused himself to go to your bathroom and jack off. He felt so embarrassed by it that he refused to see you for an entire week. And it wasn't until you promised him that you weren't repulsed by him, that he started to see you again. That day never came up again, and Anton was very cautious about making out ever since.

But right now he was too busy focusing on the way your mouth feels on his, his mind full of just you. He sits up to be more comfortable and stops kissing you when he can't, "Can we switch places.? I don't want to sit on you and crush you." He lightly jokes, making you giggle. "I don't mind if you crush me, goliath." He rolls his eyes at the teasing nickname and moves hair on your face behind your ear. "I like it better when you're sitting on me though," He says through a pout, and you find it too cute to say no to. It's your turn to roll your eyes and he wipes a little bit of saliva off your bottom lip before getting off of you. He hooks your legs around his waist, allowing your chest to press against his as you kiss him again. "Better?" You run your fingers through his hair while going back to kissing him. "Mmm.. Much better." He replies, softly moaning when you bite his lip, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. When you tug on the bottom of his shirt, he immedeatly takes it off. Sure, you've seen Anton without his shirt before, he is a swimmer after all. But it has never been in the contents of the bedroom, which made even something as small as that make your stomach turn. You decide to lift your shirt off of you, making Anton stare at the way your breasts sit in your bra. He grabs the back of them, about to unclasp them before looking at you, "Can I take this off?" You nod and watch as your bra falls on the bed, finally feeling the cold air. Anton's eyes study every part of your breasts, "Can I touch them?" "Please.." This was your first time ever being exposed like this in front of someone, but you trusted Anton a lot so slowly the nervousness left your body. His fingers make contact with your skin, softly squeezing them, looking up at you with a small smile. When he drags his fingers along your sensitive nipple, you let out a soft moan, making him do it again. The sounds you were making going straight to his cock, causing him to rub upwards. The feeling of his clothed cock against your clothed pussy making you both moan. You continue to grind down on him, matching the speed of his hands working your breasts until he stops, "I-.. I'm gon' cum in my pants if we continue.." Neither of you want to stop, and the air in the room is noticeably different. "What do you want to do?" "I want," He pauses, thinking about what to say, "I need to be inside of you."

You know you're ready, you know you both are. You just wished you guys talked it out beforehand, cause you sadly don't have condoms just laying around. " 'Ton.. I don't have any.. you know." "Hold on," He softly lifted you off of him and grabbed his bag on the floor. After rummaging around it for a minute, he pulled out a box of condoms. He took one out and when went back to you, he realized you were looking at him suspiciously. "What?" "You just... carry condoms around?" You try to hold back a laugh at the thought of Anton casually walking around like that. "Just in case," He says shyly, "For moments like these." He takes the condom out and when he hooks his finger under the waiste band of his pants, he hesitates, "Look away." "Look away?" You raise an eyebrow at him, "No, I am absolutely looking." "Fine." He sighs defeatedly, "But don't say anything." When he removes his pants, his bulge looks bigger under his boxers. You watch as he removes the last piece of clothing, his cock hitting his stomach and your heart sinks. He's big. Like really big. Bigger than you thought, and this was a problem considering you're a virgin too. There was no way he was fitting. There's pre cum leaking from his tip, and your first instinct is to use your finger to wipe it off. He reacts almost immedeatly, squeezing his eyes at the feeling. You remove your pajama pants, showing the cute lace panties you had on. It just so happened to be a coincidence that you were wearing one of your nice panties, taking that as the final sign that this was supposed to happen. "Can I-?" Is all he says before you grab his hands and lead them to you. He hooks a finger around your panties before slowly pulling them down, revealing your dripping pussy. Anton moves his finger through your folds, playing with your arousal on his fingers, "You're so wet.." "Anton.... please." Beg filling your eyes and he softly kisses you before he moves his attention back on the condom he didn't put on, taking it and placing it on his cock. He lifts himself over you, one hand on your waist, the other busy aligning himself with your cunt. You feel his tip enter you slowly, "Is that okay?" You nod, grabbing his hand when you feel him push in just a little more. His fingers interlock with yours, squeezing them when he enters you fully. A whimper escaping his lips from how tight you feel around him. "Fuck..'Ton... You're huge.." You moan from the feeling of you being full, you were surprised he fit, though you give all props to your wetness. Your comment making his face flush full red, he honestly never put much thought into his size. He rests his head on your shoulder, afraid to move in case it hurts you. When you've gotten used to the feeling of him inside you, you caress his hand with your thumb, "You can move." "Fuck," Is all he can muster out when he thrusts into you. The way you feel around him makes him feel like he's on cloud 9. His cock reaching places inside of you that you didn't even know could be reached. Biting your lip, you squeeze his hand the same way he did earlier when he thrusts in a slightly faster pace. Anton's eyes were glued to the way your breasts bounced with each time he entered inside of you, "Y-you're so beautiful.. all of you.."

You wrap your arms around him so he's close enough for you to be able to kiss him. His soft voice louder now that he was closer, making you able to hear him clearly. From the way Anton's moans were coming out, you could tell he was getting closer and closer to release. So you let go of his hand to bring it between you guys, rubbing your clit to the pace of Anton's thrusts. When sees, he replaces your hand with his. His thumb moving in circles with applied pressure. You felt a knot grow in your stomach, moving your hips up to match his causing him to even deeper. "I-I'm gon- cum.." "We'll cu-cum together, o-okay?" He suggests and you nod. You feel Anton's thrusts become sporadic, and you can tell he's struggling to keep up with the pace. "Cum." You feel intense pleasure grow before you reach your orgasm, moaning out his name as loud as you can. He cums too, and you can tell by the way his hips twitch against you, small "I love you, I love you so much," coming from his lips. You both lay there, catching your breaths as you give him a hug with as much energy that is left in your body. He finally pulls out, removing the condom and he looks it before looking at you and softly laughs. "Can't believe we just did that." "It hurt like a bitch at first," You reciprocate the laugh and you see concern enter his face. "Oh it does, right.." He kisses your forehead, "I'm sorry princess. We will have to work on the size difference, huh?" "I think we already did," You caress his cheek softly before patting him on the back, "Buckle up baby, we are doing that again."

antons been on my mind recently.. did NOT mean to make this as long as it ended up being.. - 🐠

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Spamley

Debut: Ralph Breaks the Internet

Hey, remember the Ralph Breaks the Internet craze of 2018? What a time to be alive! Disney's film about What If The eBay Was A Place was an instant hit, due to the fact that everyone knows the Internet, and everyone wants to see a movie about it! You couldn't stop hearing about it! No wonder it won the Academy Award for best animated film! I think it beat out some movie about spiders, or something...?

Kids today might not remember, because 2018 was so long ago. They're too obsessed with their new age sexymen, like Raymond and the big balls Dwarf. But this movie wouldnt've been the cultural phenomenon it was without one character taking the world by storm: a certain J.P. Spamley!

The Internet fell in love with Spamley at first sight, flooding social media with memes and fan art about the loveable green prick. He rose to the highest ranks of the Tumblr Sex Man for a good while! You couldn't scroll for a few minutes without seeing his catchphrase, "Now's your chance to get rich playing video games!"

What kind of a megacorporation would Gisnep be if it didn't capitalize on Spamley's popularity? So they held a special Spamley Sweepstakes event on November 2019, allowing fans to donate money in honor of Spankley himself! All proceeds would go to Bob Iger and Baby Yoda, and if that's not wholesome, I don't know what is. Those who entered even had a chance of winning WILD prizes, like:

That's it that was the only prize

See him in theatres! This is what Disney told us all to do, and we listened! Little did we know they were doing this to hide a dark secret! If you buy the Blu-ray version of the movie, you can actually manipulate the Scene Select to watch the movie out of order and make some... strange things happen. You can look up a walkthrough online, but the gist of it is making Vanelope kill all the Disney Princesses. Especially Merida. And when you do, you unlock a weird alternate ending...

Spamley NEO is the secret true main antagonist of the film, and he wants to take over Oh My Disney to spread spam and advertisements! No! Not Oh My Disney! Please, for the love of God, NOT OH MY DISNEY!! You have to kill him. You have to destroy your Blu-ray copy of Ralph Breaks the Internet now. I hope you're proud of yourself.

[brairslair]

(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)

so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song

Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?

😅😊

i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker

Like an Animal - E.M.

18+ ONLY (minors please dni)

a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3

wc: 5.8k

cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!

don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah

“well if it isn’t the little princess”

Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.

In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.

You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.

Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.

You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.

Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.

As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.

A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.

The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.

You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.

“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”

You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.

Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.

“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”

“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”

Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.

“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”

Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”

“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.

He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.

You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”

He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.

The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.

Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.

It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.

As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.

How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.

“You alright?”

The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.

He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”

You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?

But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.

You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.

He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.

“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.

He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”

He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”

You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”

“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.

Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“

“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.

“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.

Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”

“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.

Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.

Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.

After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.

No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.

This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.

It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.

As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.

Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.

Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?

You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.

You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.

It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.

���How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.

He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.

He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.

As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.

Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.

Then you notice what he’s singing.

“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”

Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?

“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”

You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.

“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.

“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.

He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.

So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?

You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.

You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.

“Care for a smoke?”

His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.

You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.

You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.

He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“

“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”

Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”

You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.

“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”

Smug bastard.

“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.

Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.

He’s absolutely unbearable.

You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.

“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”

“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.

He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.

“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.

You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.

“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”

Your back hits the wall.

“You aren’t subtle, princess.”

You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.

“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.

“Is that so?”

You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.

Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.

For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.

“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”

You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.

So you finally wave the white flag.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”

So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.

Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.

His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.

“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”

He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”

You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”

“Oh I’m Eddie now?”

Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”

He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”

You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.

“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.

“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.

Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”

You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”

You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.

“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.

You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.

It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.

"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"

You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.

His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.

He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”

All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.

“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.

You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”

You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.

“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”

A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”

You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.

You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.

“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.

He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.

“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”

The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.

“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”

Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”

You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.

“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”

You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”

He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.

You like hearing his voice.

You like it when he’s mean.

He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.

“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.

You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.

“Eddie, fucking- god”

“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”

Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.

Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”

Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.

That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.

He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”

You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.

“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.

“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”

Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.

“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.

Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.

“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”

He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”

You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.

“You can cum for me, princess”

That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.

Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.

“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.

“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”

Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.

“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”

You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.

“You fuck me so well, Eds”

“Oh my god- you feel so good”

“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”

He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.

“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."

You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.

"Soak me.”

You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.

“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”

Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!

asks are open!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Petals Of Love ~ HJS

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

GENRE: Non idol, college au, established friendships, unrequited love, jisung blind to his feelings, reader almost dying, mentions of coughing and blood, hanahaki disease [Hanahaki disease is a fictional medical condition often depicted in anime, manga, and fan fiction. It's characterized by the symptoms of coughing up flower petals or blossoms due to unrequited love. ]

PAIRING: Jisung X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

In the bustling city of Seoul, cherry blossoms painted the streets pink, and everywhere you went petals fell down and showered those around them creating a beautiful scene, but you hated it. 

You had once loved the flowers but now they simply reminded you of the one person you could never have, the one person that was killing you slowly on the inside and didn't even know it. Your best friend. Jisung.

You'd always loved him but you hadn't realised the depth of your feelings until recently. It had started subtly, with you admiring his infectious laugh or his giant smile. The way he stored food in his cheeks or his passion for music. Everything about him drew him in. He even had a remarkable ability to see the best in people and bring joy to those around him mostly you.

"Dear? Is there something I can do for you?" A voice brought you out of your daydream as you slowly turned around to face an elderly woman who was staring at you. You took in her appearance, silver hair that cascaded down her back in gentle waves and she was dressed in a headscarf adorned with cherry blossoms. You'd been reading about her all week long, she was supposed to be the best herbalist in all of Seoul and you figured she'd be able to find a way to help you.

"I...I need your help," You stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper, and your hands were trembling.

"I have this... this illness. It's called Hanahaki. I'm in love with my best friend, Jisung, but... but he doesn't feel the same way. I'm coughing up petals, and I don't know what to do." Tears sprang to your eyes as you finally admitted it out loud to someone else. Ever since you'd started coughing up the petals you'd done everything you could to hide it, not wanting anyone to see you. 

The herbalist listened attentively, her expression softening as she heard your plight. With a gentle touch, she reached out to comfort you.

"I'm sorry, my dear," the herbalist sighed, her voice heavy with regret. 

"But there is little I can do for you. Hanahaki is a curse born of unrequited love, and its remedy lies not in herbs or potions, but in the depths of your heart." Your heart sank at the herbalist's words, your hopes dashed against the harsh reality of your situation. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of your predicament. 

"But... but there must be something!" You pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. 

"I can't just let this disease consume me. Jisung... he means everything to me. I can't lose him." The herbalist's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting your anguish.

"My dear child," she murmured, her voice gentle yet firm. 

"Sometimes, the greatest remedies come not from external sources, but from within ourselves. Only by confronting your feelings and expressing them honestly can you hope to find peace, whether it be in love returned or in letting go." With those words, the herbalist offered you a comforting embrace, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your struggle.

"Confess your love and hope for reciprocation or face the consequences of a love unspoken." She told you softly as she rubbed the small of your back, the weight of everything pressing down on you as you began your walk back to your shared apartment with Jisung. 

No matter how much you adored Jisung there was always someone else for him, someone he liked more than you. The thought of it made your throat close up until you coughed a little, petals falling into your hands, the beautiful pink in stark contrast to the blood red that covered them. 

As you stepped into the apartment, you were instantly greeted by the scent of your home and Jisung running around excitedly, his energy infectious as it always was. The thoughts and problems of your day melted away instantly as he grinned in your direction,

"You're back!" He exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement.

"I have some exciting news!" Curiosity piqued you set your bag down on the floor and walked toward him,

"What's the news?" You smiled.

"I met someone, her name is Emi and she's incredible! You have to meet her!" Your heart skipped a beat, a pang of longing shooting through you as you processed his words. It honestly felt as though it was going to be anyone but you at this point and your chest tightened, your throat burning as you felt the flowers making their way up making it feel as though you were going to choke. Forcing a smile onto your face you nodded,

"T...That's wonderful, I can't wait to meet her," You lied, doing your best to mask the ache in your chest as you spoke. It would be a while before you'd ever have to face her, Jisung was always slow when it came to relationships and never wanted to rush anything. 

"Great! Chan is hosting a party tonight and she'll be there! I can't wait for you to meet her," Your smile faltered as you stared at him, this was faster than any of the past relationships he'd had. 

"Tonight? But-" You didn't even have time to come up with some kind of excuse not to come. 

"It'll be fun, I heard Lix is going to be there." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, he'd been trying to set you up with his friends for a while not catching that you weren't into them but rather him.

"Sounds good," You lied through your teeth, you could think of a million different places you wanted to be rather than at a party where you would watch him with someone else, hell being one of those places. 

"You're the best, this is going to be so much fun!" He told you, embracing you in a tight hug as you squeezed your eyes shut, enjoying the fleeting moment of being so close to him while it lasted. 

"Why not me," You whispered to yourself as he walked away from you, going to plan an outfit for the night and you coughed into your hand throwing away the petals into the bin.

The party pulsated with energy, its atmosphere electric with excitement and anticipation. Held in Chan's college house adorned with twinkling fairy lights and draped with cascading cherry blossom garlands, it resembled a scene straight out of a fairy tale. The sight of the garlands felt as though they were torturing you though, as if they were there to remind you of your unrequited love.

The air was alive with the sound of laughter and animated conversations, mingling with the rhythmic beat of music that reverberated through the room.

"This is exciting, right?" Jisung asked from beside you, the two of you went to almost all of Chan's parties and this one certainly felt more extravagant than the others that you'd been to in the past.

"Yeah it's nice," You whispered, letting your eyes linger on him for a second enjoying the way his eyes were lighting up at the sight of the party. 

"Might be his best party yet," Jisung chuckled, nudging you softly as you nodded at him but you were in complete awe of him not to agree with everything he was saying. You forced a smile on your face, your heart pounding as you followed Jisung through the throng of partygoers. You tried to focus on the lively atmosphere, the music to try and drown out the whispers of doubt in your mind. 

"Hey! Yn! Jisung!" Felix waves at you both and you smile, hugging him softly and relaxing as he whispers in your ear,

"Missed you little one," The two of you were close with one another, not in a romantic way but still close nonetheless.

"Have you seen Emi anywhere?" The mention of her name had you choking up as you stared at Felix, 

"She was with Chan last I saw her." Without a second thought, Jisung left you and Felix alone, your eyes staring off after your best friend as you swallowed the nervous lump in your throat. 

"She's the girl of the week then?" Felix teased softly, it was no secret that Jisung fell in love with a new girl faster than anyone else but it was something you found endearing about him. 

"I guess so," You mumbled, reaching for a cup from a nearby tray and downing it instantly trying to forget everything that was going to happen tonight.

The two of you fell into casual conversation, catching up with one another as you walked through the party, your eyes finding Jisung instantly as you noticed just how close he was to Emi. Their hands linked with one another as you stared at him a sharp pang of pain shot through your chest, causing you to gasp for breath and clutch onto Felix.

A delicate petal, stained with blood fluttered from your lips, a cruel reminder of the curse that plagued your heart. Felix's eyes widened in shock as he stared at you,

"You okay?" He asked, his voice laced with worry as he pulled you to the side, trying to get you out of the crowded party. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment as you tried to compose yourself,

"I-I'm fine," You stammered, your voice trembling a little.

"It's nothing." You lied, but Felix's eyes remained fixed on you, his eyes filled with understanding as he realised what was happening.

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" He asked as you stared at him, your breath caught in your throat as you nodded silently, unable to find the words to express the depth of your emotions.

"You can't tell him," You begged, your hands clutching onto Felix's forearms as petals began to fall from your lips faster than before, more blood coating them with each falling petal.

"Yn, it'll kill you if he doesn't know." Something you already knew but even if you told him and he rejected you, you were going to die, you were fighting it as much as you possibly could.

"It'll kill me faster if he knows and rejects me," You croaked out, tears streaming down your cheeks as you shook your head. You'd thought about confessing a million times before, you'd written songs, letters, and poems but nothing was ever going to work because you knew he would never love you back.

"But-"

"There's nothing I can do Lix, either way I die." You mumbled, wiping the corners of your lips to remove the blood from them, sighing a little as you shrugged your shoulders.

"How do you know he doesn't love you?" You scoffed a little and shook your head, there was no way Jisung returned the feelings you had for him,

"He would have said something." You mumbled a little, looking down at the floor as Felix stared at you,

"Like you have to him?" He had you there but you just shook your head, 

"I'm going to get some fresh air, keep him distracted...I don't want to meet Emi," You admitted as Felix nodded, always having your back no matter what.

The moon cast a gentle glow upon the garden, its silvery light dancing among the cherry blossoms like ethereal spirits. You stood at the threshold, your heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unrequited love. Each step felt like a burden, and your chest constricted with the pain of the Hanahaki disease.

With each laboured breath, you coughed, delicate petals stained with blood escaping your lips like crimson tears. The air was thick with the scent of cherry blossoms, their sweet fragrance mingling with the coppery tang of blood—a haunting reminder of the curse that plagued your heart.

As you stumbled forward, your vision blurred with tears, and the world around you seemed to spin, a dizzying whirlwind of colours and sensations. Your strength waned with each passing moment, your body growing weaker with every faltering step.

But still, you pressed on, driven by a desperate longing to be alone with your thoughts, to find solace amidst the tranquil beauty of the garden. Each petal that fell from your lips was a silent plea, a silent prayer for forgiveness and understanding. Darkness began to cloud your vision as you leaned up against a tree, trying to catch as much breath as you could but it was as though there was a filter to your lungs, stopping any viable air coming through.

In that moment of quiet surrender, you finally found peace—a fleeting glimpse of serenity amidst the chaos of your suffering. And as the night stretched on, the garden whispered its mournful lament, a solemn witness to the beauty of love unspoken and the tragedy of a life cut short.

"Have you seen Yn? I figured we'd go home together," Jisung said as he joined Felix in the kitchen but he shook his head,

"She was going for air the last I saw her," He admitted, he hadn't seen you for at least an hour now and he figured you'd gone home. Jisung smiled weakly and began to make his way through the people, his date with Emi couldn't have gone worse, it turned out she had a crush on Chan instead of Jisung and all he wanted was to go home and watch bad movies with you.

"Yn?!" He called out to the party, sighing a little at the thought of you going home alone. The two of you always went home together, dates or not. As he walked through the party, a hushed whisper reached his ears, a rumour that someone had been found unconscious in the garden. Panic built inside of him as he dashed toward the garden, his heart pounding with fear.

As he burst through to the garden his worst fears came true, you were lying on the floor surrounded by cherry Blossoms as people simply stared at you in awe. You were frail on the floor, a halo of petals surrounding you like a mournful shroud.

"Yn!" He cried out, his voice trembling with anguish as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he brushed bloodied petals from your chest. Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze clouded with pain as you struggled to breathe,

"Yn," He whispered, his voice choked on emotion. Tears welled in Jisung's eyes as he took in the sight of your frail form, the severity of the situation finally sinking in.

"Oh, Yn," Jisungwhispered, her voice choked with emotion, the thought of all of this happening to you.

"What happened? Why didn't you tell me?" He pleaded with you, the sound of distant sirens blasting through the air, your response was a weak cough, a delicate petal stained with blood escaping your lips—a silent testament to the depth of your suffering. 

Realization dawned upon Jisung like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the darkness of his ignorance. He'd been blind to your silent struggle, oblivious to the agony hidden beneath your friend's smiles and laughter.

"I'm so sorry," He murmured, his voice trembling with regret as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

"I didn't know... I didn't realize..." With each passing moment, your strength waned, your breaths growing shallower as the petals threatened to suffocate your fragile lungs. 

"I wrote a letter and threw it away, 'cause god just knows that I'll never say I think about you every day...I-I know you'll never see me that way." You coughed out before everything faded to black, Jisung's hands shaking you as he begged you to come back to him. 

"Yn...Yn, can you hear me?" The voice was gentle yet urgent, pulling you back from the brink of oblivion. With a faint groan, you stirred, your eyes fluttering open as you squinted a little.

"Jisung?" You mumbled, your voice hoarse from how dry your throat was. 

"You're in the hospital, you collapsed," Jisung whispered, his hands griping yours with trembling hands, you stared at him and took in his appearance, it looked like he'd barely slept and his eyes were bloodshot.

"What...What happened?" You thought for sure you would have died right then and there, it had been the only reason you'd admitted your feelings to him.

"You were coughing up blood...petals...Yn, why didn't you just tell me?" He squeezed your hand and you shook your head, looking back on it, it all seemed silly not to tell him the truth.

"I was scared I was going to lose you," You admit as you slowly sat up in the bed,

"And I nearly lost you," He choked, kissing your hand softly as you watched him,

"How am I-"

"Alive? After you passed out...I finally realised I love you, I always have and I just cried into your chest," He laughed nervously and wiped the tears away from his cheeks.

I've loved you for as long as I can remember. I just didn't know how to tell you." He admitted as you stared at him in complete shock,

"You saved my life," You whispered as you swallowed and for the first time in forever it didn't hurt, it felt pain-free as you finally didn't feel the urge to cough anymore.

"I love you, Jisung." You whimpered a little./

"I love you too, Yn," He whispers, leaning down and kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck bringing him closer to you.

In that moment, amidst the sterile walls of the hospital room, you felt a weight lift from your chest—a burden lifted by the power of love and the courage to speak your truth. And as Jisung leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you knew that this was exactly where you belonged—in the arms of the man you loved, your heart finally at peace.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @piercedddriver

[hanafubukki]

Imagine baby Silver accidentally getting kidnapped by his big brother because he crawled into Malleus’s bag and fell asleep and Malleus being strong as hell barely even notices the difference in weight.

Hello Anonie 💞🌷🌸

I woke up today with the perfect scene in my head for this ask and I had to write it right away 💞💞 I hope you enjoy 💚🌷

Malleus and Silver, brotherly bonding, my loves.

Summary: A young Silver is on a mission. He’s going to follow Big Brother Malleus to wherever he goes and rescue him.

Silver was on a mission.

He’s going to follow Big Brother Malleus to wherever he went.

Silver didn’t like it when his big brother had to leave. He knew Mal didn’t want to leave either.

He could see the sad look in his eyes before he left.

So! He’s going to follow him and rescue him.

He’ll be his hero!

He would have to return home if Silver saved him and then they can all live happily forever.

But how?

Looking around, Silver spotted the nearby bag.

It was Mal’s bag.

He can hide in there.

Silver motioned towards the birds and small animals.

Shushing them before waving.

Go. Go.

Distract them.

No one would be the wiser.

Silver felt delighted as he slipped into the bag.

He’s going to rescue his big brother and bring him home.

No one will make him sad on his watch!

Malleus leaned back after signing off on the document before him. Retuning to his duties always seemed harder after a visit to the cottage.

But it gave him a reprieve, something to look forward to.

A solace from the darkness and silence of the castle.

Malleus sighs as he pulls his bag to his lap.

I should look into that issue Lilia…

“What?”

Very few things shocked Malleus Draconia and this was one of those rare instances where he was left speechless.

Malleus felt laughter bubble up before he smothers it down with his hand.

Malleus’ expression softened, gently pulling Silver out so as not to wake him.

Cradling him close, Silver nuzzled into Malleus’s warmth.

It was all so natural to him now. Malleus recalls those days when he struggled with even holding the young one.

Now though, now it was as natural as breathing to him.

Malleus began humming a lullaby while rubbing the little one’s back.

Lilia must be panicking right now. He should probably let him know or return Silver to him but…

Seeing the little one tucked into him, his soft smell relaxing him in a way he didn’t realize he was tensed before…

Silver smiled in his sleep as he buried closer to his warmth.

Malleus tapped his finger on the button like nose.

“Why don’t I keep you for a bit longer, little beastie?”

He smirked.

Lilia can panic a bit longer. It’ll be good for his health to be more active.

I have no idea how I went from chaotic young Silver to deep feels Malleus, but at least I got some of that smug Malleus vibe at the end 😆💞

[lilybecca1]

So I noticed something when I was looking at how Izuku smiled at Katsuki...something about it just seemed familiar and I couldn't put my finger on what it was.

Until NOW

Like the way his smile just looks so fond, it's different than how he usually smiles at other people. There's just something about it that just screams that it's the look of love to me. But I couldn't really explain it or compare it to anything else before.

Well now I finally put two and two together and realized what it reminded me of...THIS MF

The way he looks at Marinette, he was so obviously in love with her, like can y'all see it too? The way his eyebrows relax and scrunch upwards, that fond smile.. IT'S LITERALLY THE SAME

I think generally animators have similar ways to show expressions, and this fondness, this genuine awe is something that I have also seen quite a lot of times before. That smile and that expression that you hold for the person that means so much more to you than anyone else, who you genuinely love from the bottom of your heart because they've shown a side to life and feelings that you never knew before. That smile is reserved for the person who your life wouldn't be the same without.

And his small laugh here ahhhyhshxhsjsj

It's such a sweet laugh like how Adrien laughs at Marinette too because he finds her awkwardness sweet.

And when you look at the parallels, it's so obvious. Like the moment Cat Noir realized he was in love with Ladybug as he looked up at her in awe:

And Katsuki's proud smile as he was looking up at Deku:

Then there's the fact that they both blindly trust each other because they know that the other would always win and save the other, no matter what:

Even Cat Noir sacrificed himself so much in the past for Ladybug to win, because he knew she'd always win..just like how Bakugo sacrificed himself for Izuku because he knew he'd never give up

"You know I like to fight by your side. But against you? Never"

"I could never hurt the person I love"

But that's not all. Remember the APOLOGY scene IN THE RAIN when Marinette fell in love with Adrien?

Yeah, now look at the Bakudeku version of it. The fact that Adrien and Bakugo both opened up and apologized and both of it happened in the rain..and look at Izuku's reaction to the apology. You can't tell me that he didn't fall in love a little at that moment just like how Marinette did. It's literally the same minus all the blushing and the smiling.

Want more? Well, here's Season 4 ending when Cat Noir reached his hand out to Ladybug, giving her back the hope after she has already lost all of it. Showing her that they can still do it, together. That she hasn't lost everything as long as he's still there. Reminds you of something?

And then as they look out at the distance with newfound hope...just like how Bakugo and Deku did at the cliff in that one Memories episode.

There are literally SO MANY parallels between them, and this is a CANON COUPLE that we are talking about, who are CANONICALLY IN LOVE. This is NOT a coincidence. Even if these are not meant to be parallels, the fact that they are so similar means that their dynamic, their relationship is very similar. So if we took bkdk in Miraculous context, then they'd be a couple. If there was even a tiny bit of flirting between them, it would be undeniable. In Miraculous, they are meant to be a couple, so it's obviously portrayed in their interactions that there is something between them. In MHA however, they are not specifically made to be canon, but their dynamic is essentially the same. They are the person that they trust the most, they rely on each other, trust each other with their life. They have no doubt in the other, they know that the other would always win. Their life wouldn't be the same without the other. They're Yin and Yang, just like Marinette and Adrien. The Sun and Moon.

Bonus:

The way she holds Cat Noir's tail reminds me a lot of how Izuku was holding Bakugo's tie lmao

When their eyes meet

Ladybug getting angry at the villain for hurting Cat Noir like Deku losing it when Bakugo gets hurt

[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent.

As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; with how the third episode of Act 1 ended, I felt like the show was gearing up to showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengeance cloud her mind and take over her life, to do things her mother would have not approved of. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took up to that point) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal" and in the grief of her mother's death. I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a tiny snapshot. Had they continued with showing her questioning what, exactly, the hell she's doing (while continuing to go on with her reign), then seeing not just Vi but also how her actions has widened the rift between Piltover and Zaun, her finally being able to break herself off would've felt more weighty.

"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" Grayson once asked. I can't help but feel like that line could have had some very strong carry-through into this season; not only giving a proper callback to Grayson as Cait's mentor(?) but also cement Cait's inner turmoil between blinded by revenge, but growing to dislike what she's turned into to get it.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her whole shtick in being cunning and one step ahead of everyone (much like her mother) could've played a stronger part here too, particularly because I don't remember the Black Rose being explained much, so it would've been nice to see Mel put her strengths into play to find out for herself and give her a more active role in her ability to fight back.

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy. I appreciate they didn't go full evil with her, and made her an embodiment of Singe's quote of "doing horrendous things in the name of love", but it kinda felt like her initial plot of using hextech to fight the Black Rose (I could be wrong here but that is what it felt like she ultimately wanted) kinda got... forgotten?

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED one more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been three seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occurred. Given the rumors of there being a strong interest for an animated movie (and I have a theory that it might be to continue the story of Arcane in some way), that might help with some of the contingencies if it's true, but that's only if the movie actually comes to fruition.

As it currently stands, my biggest critique of Season 2 was switching focus on making the plot drive the story, when instead it really should've continued the trend from Season 1 in letting the characters drives the story forward.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in and I'm getting drowsy from it so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane Season 2 was mostly good. I have my fair bit of complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good! It's one of those shows where I would personally recommend everyone watch from start to finish to at least experience it in its entirety yourself.

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

[daechwitatamic]

The Price || MYG

banner by @/itaeewon

The Price

Rating: NSWF - minors do not have my consent to interact Genre: Snow White and the Huntsman!au, angst, smut, unhappy ending WC: 8k

Summary: The Queen is responsible for everything you call yours: your home, your job, your freedom. You live without laying claim to anything else, lest the Queen leverage more in exchange for her grace. But the Queen has just named her latest price: the life of the young blacksmith, Min Yoongi.

Warnings: language, drinking, there’s a plague and it’s a problem, reader’s parents died (see the previous warning lol) and there are scenes of her grieving process, reader is a hunter so there’s mentions of animal carcasses and hides, lots of mentions of reader’s big fancy knife, a murder attempt, kissing, nip stim, groping, fingering, clit stim, penetrative sex (protection not mentioned either way), reader on top, angst, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: Part of the Make Me Your Villain collab! Please give the other authors a lot of love!!! Huge huge huge thank you to @/here2bbtstrash for beta-ing!

//

Mirror, mirror - look and see. Who might take this throne from me? Mirror, mirror - who's the threat? Show me which boy's blood to let.

There are pros and cons to living outside the village. The pros are that you’re mostly left alone - you live by your own laws, most of the time. It’s better this way; you come and go as you please, you don’t worry about latest fashions or gossip, you aren’t under the thumb of any societal niceties or norms. You concern yourself more with what the forest tells you. Bad weather, humans who don’t belong, sickness on the horizon - the forest knows it all, and you know how to listen.

You knew about the plague - in a vague, something isn’t right here kind of way - days before the first villager fell sick. You didn’t see anything bigger than a possum for three days - you knew something was in the air. It was the baker first, then his wife. Now it’s made its way into the castle, the guards and servants falling like flies. 

Another pro - you won’t pick up illness from the baker if you make your own bread in your tiny cabin in the woods. 

The main con - the only con, really - is that when you make your weekly trek to the castle to present the King and Queen with your scores (deer, mostly, but usually a few fowl too) it takes so damn long to get there.

It would be faster on foot, much faster, but you have to load your kills onto a cart and take the dirt road, which winds and twists and takes its time. Today your cart is loaded: venison, fowl, a few rabbits, even a fox. That had been a good score. The Queen likes furs - she’ll pay you well for it.

But the trip into town once a week is a fair price for your freedom, you think.

A few vendors through the heart of town wave hello as you pass. You lift your hand in response but don’t stop. You’ll shop after, when your cart is empty and your purse is full. For now, you stay on the main road until it changes over from tamped-down dirt to cobblestone to, eventually, flat stone that leads to the bridge over the castle’s moat. 

The usual guard, the one who knows your face and always waves you through, isn’t there. You wonder if the plague reached him, if he’ll recover or if they’ll send his body to the sea like all the others. 

You show identification, the card nearly illegible due to how many times it’s been folded and stuffed into your shoe for safekeeping, and this new guard waves you on. 

As usual, you stop in the courtyard just inside the first set of walls. You hop down and start undoing the straps of the fabric you have over the top of the cart. Two guards join you, and they begin moving your scores down from the cart. Each is weighed and given a quick once-over as a scribe stands to the side recording it all.

“Make sure you mention how nice that hide is,” you tell him, pointing at the fox. “I got that one special, for her.”

The scribe rolls his eyes a little, but you see him peer at the fox and scribble something on his little parchment. When they’re done, your cart empty, the scribe rolls his paper up and leads you up the steps towards the main doors to the castle. You flip one of the guards a silver coin and follow the scribe. As you head up the steps, you hear the sound of your horse’s feet moving across the stone, the cart creaking and groaning behind him, as the guard you paid takes him to be cared for. 

Inside, you follow the thick, red carpet into the throne room. You’re surprised to see only the Queen present, but you school your face and drop into a bow anyway, your forehead brushing the soft carpeting. 

When you rise, you see the scribe has handed her the parchment, and she reads over the report of your goods. You wait, knowing better than to speak until she has. 

“A good week,” she observes. 

“Yes, your Grace,” you say, eyes on the carpet. “I was pleased as well.”

“Are you well?” she asks as she signals for her Chief of Coin, who scurries close to the throne and lowers his head to hear her whispers. 

“Quite well,” you say automatically, though you’re not sure what exactly she’s asking. Does she mean your health? Your home? 

The Chief of Coin makes his way to you and you pull your practically-empty purse from your back pocket. 

“You have need of nothing?” she asks. 

This would be your opportunity to ask after anything major - repairs on your home, medicine, anything you couldn’t get during your walk back through town.

“No, your Grace,” you say. “I had need of a new blade, but the local smith took my request.”

The local smith and your new blade are one of your stops on your way home. 

“I’ve heard from the citadel,” she tells you, and you pull your eyes away from the Chief of Coin to look at her. “They say your brother is doing well. He’s applying himself to his studies.”

When you’d lost your parents, you’d begged to keep your brother yourself, desperate to keep him away from the citadel’s orphanage. You were of age, could handle yourself. You could handle him, too, you’d argued. 

The King had considered this. Your family was well-known in the village, and your father had hunted for the crown for many years. Your brother was only about five years out from finishing his schooling. 

You were investments, you and your brother.

In the end, the deal had been struck - the crown would see to the rest of his education under the condition that when he finished he’d work for the crown, pay back his debt, begin to build his own name. 

And, in the meantime, you’d take over the hunting. You could keep your family’s little cabin out in the woods, away from town. Your brother wouldn’t be apprenticed off to a stranger.

It was an easy deal to agree to. 

“We’re grateful for the opportunity,” you say to the Queen. “If the report said anything less, I’d travel there to knock sense into him, myself. He’s at that age. You know.”

You try to bite back a cringe. The Queen might not know. She’d never been able to bear a child for the King. 

She smiles at this, thinly.  “Very well,” she says, and you take back your now-heavy purse from the Chief of Coin. “Then I shall see you next week. I wish you continued health in the upcoming days.”

You nod your head. “I wish the crown health and longevity,” you say. Head bowed, you miss the way her eyes tighten.

–

You pick up the goods you need - eggs, flour, and the like - on your way through town. You eye the tavern, tempted to stop for a pint. Alas, you are embarrassingly excited to get your new blade, so instead you carry on down the road towards the smithy. 

After tying up your horse - though he’s a lazy thing and probably wouldn’t wonder anyway, not with the cart hitched up - you head inside, following the sounds of a hammer striking metal. 

You wait until there’s a break in the noise and then shout a hey back towards the open door to let the team know they have a customer. 

There’s the sound of a heavy instrument being dropped to the ground, and you catch yourself smoothing your hair back. Stop it, you scold yourself, scowling. 

That’s the face that greets the youngest of the smithing team, Min Yoongi, as he steps into the shop, blinking as his eyes adjust to the light.

“Ah,” he says, lips curling into a smirk. “Is it Thursday already?”

“Is my blade ready?” you ask, ignoring both his self-satisfied grin and his question. “Park Jihoon said I could get it today.”

At his boss’s name, Yoongi’s smirk fades until he’s all business again. He turns to the wall, where special orders are tacked. He searches until he finds yours. 

“It’s ready,” he grunts, reading the slip of parchment. “Wait here.”

He disappears into the back again, returning with a hefty-looking blade, sheathed in a leather case. 

He places it on the counter between you, pulls the blade from its case and turns it over so you can see each side.

You frown. “I didn’t order engraving on the case,” you say, jutting your chin towards the delicate design at the top. It curls in and around itself, all the way around. “I’d better not have to pay extra for that.”

“Ah, but he worked so hard on it!” Park Jihoon says cheerfully, appearing out of the back and clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. You keep your eyes on the knife; Yoongi looks steadfastly at the wall with the orders, a pink flush working up his neck. 

“It’s not extra,” he mutters. 

“I’m heading to Bridgeport,” the senior blacksmith tells Yoongi. “I’ll be back before sundown. You’ll be okay here?”

“Of course I will,” Yoongi says, disgruntled. Jihoon nods goodbye at you both and moves through the door, leaving you in silence. 

“What’s the price?” you ask, placing your purse on the counter and digging for coins. He turns the paper over so you can see what his boss wrote, and you slide him the payment. You work on attaching the blade’s sheath to your belt, ignoring how Yoongi watches you through heavy-hooded eyes. 

You know that look. You are ignoring that look. 

“Lovely,” you say, once you’re situated and ready to go. You swipe up your purse and toss it once, catching it deftly. “Have fun pounding on metal, or whatever.”

His grin is razor-sharp. “I’d be happy to pound something else, if you want.”

The laugh rips out of you, unbidden and unwanted. “Disgusting,” you tell him, but the laughter takes the bite out of the words. “My God, you ought to throw yourself down the well for that.”

He lifts a brow, his smile turning less dangerous and more open.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “None of that today, thanks. I’ll be off.”

“Come on,” he cajoles, coming around the counter to follow you to the door. “You know you want some. It’ll be such a long ride back here when you change your mind later.”

“Keep dreaming, blacksmith,” you tell him, lips pursing in amusement.

He lays a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “Blacksmith? You remembered my name just fine last week when you were -.”

“Well, I seem to have forgotten it again!” you blurt before he can finish the thought, pulling the door open. Over your shoulder you call, “Good day!” 

His laughter rings out onto the street, following you home.

Regretfully, you have to admit that out of everyone who lives in this village, built out from the castle’s western gate, you know the most about Min Yoongi.

You knew him in passing, of course - before. When you’d ride through this same village on this same cart, your little brother squeezed between you and your father. When you’d stand silently, peeking around your father’s side, while he took payment from the King for his scores. When you’d greet the peddlers and the shop-keepers politely before climbing back on the cart and riding all the way back home. 

Yoongi was just an apprentice then. You hadn’t paid him any mind. He was quiet, a bit scruffy, stayed close to Park Jihoon. He was no more interesting to you than the apprentice for the bakery, the tannery, the copywrite. Wasn’t even the best looking out of the bunch, honestly. 

He was just there, unassuming. He was there when you’d pass through town on the cart full of your father’s scores, there whenever your family had business with the blacksmith, there when the holidays rolled through and your mother dragged you into town in a dress you hated and shoes that pinched.

There the day your parents’ bodies, along with six others, were loaded onto a barge headed for the sea. There the day your brother joined four more young people from the village as they climbed into a deep blue carriage headed for the citadel. 

Yoongi’s dark eyes, cool and undemanding, had been on you as you stood fully alone for the first time in your life. 

You hadn’t paid him any attention then, either. You couldn’t pay mind to anything then except dragging yourself through dark day after dark day until, finally, the clouds seemed to part and your new life seemed bearable. And bearable turned into decent. And decent turned into enjoyable. 

The seasons turned. The hurts faded. 

And you began to pay mind to Min Yoongi.

You began to learn things about him, then - after. 

In your time around town, you learned first that he was good at his work - his blades were made well, easily as well as his master’s blades. You learned that he scowled and grunted but hardly ever meant it. You learned that he had a good reputation around the village - was known for helping his neighbors without being asked, known for being polite and keeping to himself. You learned that he had no family either, that the master blacksmith who’d taken him as an apprentice had more or less raised him, too.

Alone with him, you learned that his smile could be razor sharp, one side lifting and eyes glinting in a way that made your pulse sing. You learned that when he meant it, his eyes squeezed shut and his gums showed. His shoulders shook when he laughed. He made the funniest faces when someone said anything he didn’t agree with or didn’t understand. He’d grown strong, his craft shaping his arms and roughening his hands.

You learned that he took whiskey neat at the tavern when he was done working for the day. You learned that he had a smart mouth behind his quiet demeanor, and opinions about everything. You learned what he was willing and able to do with that mouth when he pressed you against the rough wood of the tavern’s side alley, and then later, back in his rooms behind the smithy. 

You learned that he fucked rough but loved soft.

And that was where it had to stop.

Because it couldn’t be - but this you knew the whole time. 

When he pressed his mouth to yours sweetly, stretching to reach you, brushed one lovely finger down your cheek and whispered, I want you, you knew this: it couldn’t be. 

There was no life for you in the village. There was no life for you as someone’s wife. There was no future for you as someone’s homemaker. 

Even if he could somehow give you partnership and love without taking away the wildness of your lifestyle - there was no love ready to bloom and grow behind your iron ribs. You had nothing you could give him back. You knew only survival. Only killing and coin. Only the forest and its secrets.

“You can’t have me,” you’d whispered back. “I am not to be had.”

You were surprised when he didn’t fight it. He hadn’t pushed back. He hadn’t held it against you, hadn’t been wounded. He’d accepted exactly what you were willing to give him and asked for nothing more. 

You know this, above all else: he’s sweet, and conscientious, and good. Yoongi is good.

You - forest-dweller, hunter, orphan, unmannered, uneducated - don’t deserve him. You aren’t enough for how good he is.

The royal physician’s face says it all. 

The Queen purses her lips, her eyes on her husband’s prone form. He meets her gaze weakly, too far gone to mask any of it. 

“How long?” she asks, the words clipped. 

The physician spreads his hands before him. “Impossible to say, your Majesty. Days, maybe. Weeks, if he can be strong.”

She scoffs. “Days it shall be, then.” She dismisses him with the wave of a hand. 

No one is surprised, she thinks. The plague would breach their walls eventually. Only the strong survive - of course it would be her husband who would succumb first, and quickly. He’d never been strong, not like her. 

After all, she was the one who tried all these years. She looked and acted the part of a partner. She was faithful. She focused on the crown, on the realm. 

Not like him.

He coughs as he shifts on the bed, and she looks at him again. Weak, she thinks again. She can only feel disgust for him, for everything he never gave her. 

“You’ll finally get what you always wanted,” he croaks. 

She turns to look out the window. The day is grey, dreary. 

“It seems I shall,” she agrees. Then she turns and walks closer to her husband’s sickbed - deathbed, perhaps. She drops delicately into the chair at his side and takes his clammy hand in hers. 

It might look as if she doted on him. It might look as if she mourned.

“What became of him?” she asks, voice even and unbending. “The boy.”

Her husband’s eyes crinkle with amusement, and the chuckle that rumbles from his chest is accompanied by pained coughing. 

“You truly are something, my Queen,” he says, shaking his head. “The boy doesn’t even know.”

He will say nothing else.

The Queen is delivered two things at once, not a week later.

The first, a gilded mirror, promised to possess magical ability.

The second, the expected news of her husband’s passing.

The realm begins its period of mourning, flags lowering, shutters closing. The Queen begins her incantations, alone in the southernmost tower of the keep.

The frame is made of ornately twisted gold, so heavy it takes two of her men to hang it for her. When they pull the dust cover off, she steps back to appraise it. 

“Pretty,” she observes, watching her own reflection in the glass - unmagical, unextraordinary. 

The swirling, green-hued mist doesn’t appear before her reflection until her men are dismissed, the door closing and leaving her alone. 

Your Majesty, the mirror intones, the voice coming from the depth of the mist. Your wish is my command.

The Queen pauses, considering. The throne, the throne - hers, finally, only hers. 

Unless.

The King’s last words to her ring through her head - the boy doesn’t even know. 

She raises her chin and chants, 

“Mirror, mirror, look and see…

Who could take this throne from me?

Mirror, mirror, who’s the threat?

Show me which boy’s blood to let.”

The mist, green and growing, takes over the glass. The Queen’s fists clench tightly at her sides. 

The mist clears. The Queen lets out a laugh, short and bitter. 

The blacksmith’s boy smiles shyly in the glass, one hand coming up as if to hide his face. 

The blacksmith’s boy. The king’s bastard. Her only threat, the only other claim to her throne.

Your next trip into town isn’t with a cart full of venison and fowl. Instead it rings more true to the holidays of old, with your mother in charge. You wear black and a scowl, just as you did then.

The funeral services for the King threaten to last the full day, maybe into the night. You wish you could abstain, but if ever there was an event you were obligated to attend - this would be it. 

You’re not sure what the King’s death means for you - for your brother. Will the Queen uphold the bargain? Does she still want your brother’s counsel, someday, when he’s of age? Without the King’s affection for your father, will she continue to allow you to live freely as part of the arrangement? 

You sit alone in the church pew; rather, you’re surrounded on either side by strangers. You know Yoongi’s in the crowd somewhere - you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You don’t turn to look for him. What good would it do?

It’s well after dark when the town begins to file out into the night. Your stomach growls, and you ponder if you should stop for a hot meal at the tavern before making the trek back through the woods or if you can hold out until you’re safely back at home.

You’re stopped on your way out the door by a guard reaching across you, blocking your path.

“Her Majesty requests your audience,” he says gruffly, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand at attention. Your audience? 

It can’t be good. You’re sure of it. 

You don’t meet her in the throne room as you have in the past. Instead, the guard leads you to a small chamber off the chapel, a nondescript little room with no decor, only a table with a candelabra lit in the center. 

She’s seated, and it’s so cramped in the room that it’s hard to properly bow, but you do your best. 

“Is my brother well?” you blurt out as soon as the guard has closed the door behind you. It was the first, biggest concern you had - you couldn’t hold it in. Had something happened in the citadel? 

She inclines her head, shrouded in darkness. “I asked you here because I need something done. You seem, somehow, to be my best option.”

You duck your head, flooded with relief. “I’m at your service, as always.”

And you are. You owe the crown everything - the home you were allowed to keep, your brother’s education, your income. Your freedom, as conditional as it is. 

The Queen seems to think before she speaks, and when she does each word is short and deliberate.

“There’s someone I need gone,” she says, her voice giving away no emotion. No sign of grief from the widow, no sign of trepidation from the new ruler, no sign of regret from the human asking you to take a life. “A threat to my throne. I’ll pay five times our normal scale. And I’ll pay you for your discretion, as well, on an ongoing basis.”

You respond with silence. You can’t process quickly enough - you don’t know what to tell her.

The only thing you can tell her is yes. She holds your whole world in her hands. 

But if you tell her yes, then you have to do it. Can you kill a person, can you pretend it’s no different from cutting a rabbit’s throat? 

Could you tell her yes and then leave? Vanish into the forest? What would become of your brother, if you did? Would he be responsible for your sins?

Five times your normal price could do a lot for you. You could send finer clothes to your brother, help pay for his books, maybe even a little spending money. You could fix up the cabin - patch the roof where it leaks, reinforce the cellar the way you’ve thought about for years. 

And payment for your silence - ongoing? For how long, forever?

None of it matters. You can’t say no to the Queen.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you hear yourself say. Your stomach is a block of ice, turning over and over with the tide. “I am yours to command.”

You know it. She knows it.

“The blacksmith’s boy,” she says coolly, and you aren’t even surprised. It’s like part of you knew, somehow. Part of you has been waiting for this ending all along. Isn’t this exactly why you’d never let him get too close? There was never a happy ending in the stars - not for you.

She accepts your silence as acquiescence and adds, “Tonight.”

“Tonight?” you repeat, voice coming out too wispy. 

She meets your gaze, still cold. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you say, the only correct answer. But your mind is scrambling far away, getting ahead - what weapons do you have on hand, how will you do this -

“You didn’t strike me as softhearted,” she says, full of disdain.

“I’m not,” you defend. It’s just that it’s Yoongi. Yoongi, who sees your sharp edges and smiles because he knows firsthand how much sharp edges are worth. How - how - how can you? How can you pretend it’s just a hunt, just a necessity, when you know how his mouth tastes, how he looks at you like you’re something?

Her even look turns darker, a shade closer to a frown. “I know you have the stomach and skill to kill. And I know you dally with him. He’ll follow you - take him to the woods and be done with it.”

You haven’t been as discrete as you thought you had. You wonder who else in town knows about whom you dally with.

Not that it will matter, after tonight. Not if you follow orders.

Not when you follow orders.

“Yes, your Majesty,” you say, head bowed. 

There’s no other correct answer. Your freedom had always had a price.

–

There’s some poetic irony, you think, in killing Min Yoongi with the blade he made just for you. 

Your mind is stuck on this, circling it, unable to let go, as you approach the smithy.

The lights are out - there’ll be no late-night projects, not during the official mourning for the King. You hope Park Jihoon, whose quarters are above the smithy, just across the yard from Yoongi’s tiny cabin, sleeps deeply. 

You know Yoongi keeps a key in the eaves above his front window; you’ve seen him retrieve it no less than a half-dozen times - usually he’s reaching for it, his shirt rising and showing a slip of belly that you can’t help but run your hands across as he laughs and tells you to be patient.

You reach it on your own, tonight. You let yourself in as silently as possible, closing the door behind you, placing the key gently on his tiny, wooden table. His bed is in the far corner of the room, and although the fire in the hearth has gone out, you can see the lump of blankets through the darkness that show you his form.

You approach quietly, as you would approach a potential score, letting yourself slip into the mindset of surviving the forest. 

You hesitate when you stand over him. He sleeps on his back, the light from the streetlamps outside casting flickering yellow over his delicate features. His eyelids flutter. Next to his head, his fingers twitch. 

If you strike true, this could be over in an instant.

His eyes slide open, and a hazy smile drifts over his face. “Am I having a very good dream?” he murmurs. His eyes trail down your form and freeze on the knife in your hand. The smile fades, and his eyes meet yours again, a question in them. “Or perhaps a very bad one?”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. Then, you move at the same time - you lunging and plunging the blade into the spot where his heart lay, and him rolling sideways and hitting the floor with a thud.

You yank your blade free from where it pierced Yoongi’s empty mattress and wheel to follow him as he scrambles upright and towards the door. 

You should’ve locked it. You shouldn’t have apologized, your voice and your regret giving him the split second to bolt.

You follow him at a sprint, panting hard, as the fool runs barefoot through the smithy’s yard, heading for the forest. 

Your forest. 

It’s overcast tonight, threatening rain. No moon or stars to guide you, you follow Yoongi as he zigs and zags blindly through the trees. You have the advantage. You know where you are, even in the dark. 

It’s primal, as you forge deeper and deeper through the underbrush, just sinew and silence as you run. Wind whistles around you as you focus on breathing, focus on following the crunch of Yoongi’s wild path. The earth seems to rise up to meet each footfall with a jolting slap. The darkness seems to spur you on like it knows you need this, pressing you onward, telling you, hurry, hurry.

If you can herd him towards the east, you can cut him off at the ravine - he won’t be able to do it barefoot, not without stumbling, not without cutting those bare feet on the sharp rocks. You pick up the pace, emboldened by the plan, knees and elbows pumping as you close in.

Without warning, Yoongi stops short and wheels around on you, feet skidding a little on the loose needles that coat the forest floor. It’s so unexpected that the inertia carries you to him before you can tell your legs to quit. Before you can slow, before you can turn, he grabs you by the arms and slams you backwards into the thick trunk of an oak tree, hard enough to knock the wind out of you with an audible gasp.

You’re surprised enough that the knife drops from your fingers, and he wastes no time gripping you even tighter and throwing you to the ground, instantly dropping his body over yours and holding you down as best he can as you struggle. The blade lies just out of reach, taunting you, and you reach up and stretch as hard as you can to wiggle your fingers closer, but Yoongi roughly jerks your arm away.

You’re gasping for breath as you struggle beneath his weight, trying to keep your vision clear. This wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to have to chase him, have to fight him. You aren’t used to this - the deer don’t fight back.

“Why?” he pants heavily, his whole body heaving with each inhale and exhale. Sweat runs down his neck from the curled, damp edges of his hair. His eyes are wild, confused above you.

“Do you know who your father is?” you respond in answer, and the question surprises him so much that he leans back, like he’s trying to get a better look at you. 

It’s all you need. You use your feet and your core strength to stretch just past where you couldn’t reach with his full weight on you, and your fingers close around the blade’s handle. In a flash, you have the sharp side pressing to the pulse point on Yoongi’s neck, hard enough that you know he can feel the sting, your other hand curling in his shirt and holding him still. His eyes widen and he freezes, straining to hold himself up and away from you.

“If you move I’ll do it, and it won’t be quick,” you hiss, teeth gritted so hard you’re sure they’ll crack. Your heart slams in your chest, adrenaline sending tingles clear down to your toes. You’re dizzy with fear. You aren’t sure what’s scarier - actually doing what you’re meant to, or having to report that you didn’t.

You’re both stuck there - a tableau, an oil painting, frozen for eternity, never moving on from this moment. A million possibilities stretch on as Yoongi’s pulse beats visibly against the knife he’d sharpened for you just days ago. 

You feel like you’re floating outside your body; you can’t feel any of it - not the knife’s handle against your palm, not Yoongi’s hips still pinning yours, not the sticks and stones beneath your spine, not the sticky humidity of a night on the precipice of storm. Not your own thrumming, frightened heartbeat.

You know you can’t do it - not this way. Not like this, not with his eyes on yours, steady, as if he’s not staring down his death. Not like this, looking into his face and remembering the first time you were under him this way, remembering every time after that. Your hand trembles as you will yourself not to pull the blade away. 

But he knows. Yoongi’s always called your every bluff, has always been perfectly capable of shooting you a knowing half-smile and pushing right past your blustering, always able to find the person on the other side of the facade - the person who’s scared,confused, alone. 

“No you won’t,” he murmurs, low, and there’s nothing accusing or mocking in it. He’s simply telling you what he knows. 

Slowly, carefully, he lowers his face closer to yours, so deliberately that the knife slides harmlessly along his skin until he’s clear of it. He presses his lips to yours, uncertain at first, then with more insistence when you don’t push him away. 

The fear and adrenaline crash through you in time with a not-so-distant crack of thunder, blinding you, rendering you thoughtless and animalistic. You drop the knife with a thud, barely aware that you’re doing it, your hand coming instead to tangle in his loose hair, clutching it tightly at the base of his neck and pressing his head closer to yours, kissing him deeper, needing to absolutely drown in his kiss. 

He grunts at your enthusiasm, nipping at your bottom lip before diving into you again, licking deep into your mouth and pressing his hips down into yours in rhythm with the kiss. You move with him desperately, the quiet of the woods scattered by your combined gasping breaths, tiny sounds of pleasure slipping through the cracks in your armor, the wet sounds of your mouths coming apart and meeting again hungrily. Despite the earth solid beneath you, you feel like you’re spinning. You clutch him tightly, one hand in his hair and the other arm coming around his shoulders, tethering him to you. 

He’s the only thing keeping you here, in the present, not skittering off to somewhere safe inside your head.

You let him hold you there, pressed between him and the unyielding ground below you, channel all the rushing adrenaline into how you meet his fiery kisses, pressing your mouth hard back against his like it’s a battle, into how you roll your hips against his, thrilling at feeling him hard and ready for you. But for all the intensity, for the dizziness sweeping over you, neither of you rushes - you kiss for so long that your lips tingle, your core throbs, the night grows blacker, the thunder tiptoes closer. 

You swipe your tongue over his familiar lips, whining in your throat when he opens for you again, welcomes you in, rocks against you and closes his eyes against the sting as you unconsciously tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Then he breaks the kiss, pulls himself free of your grasp, nudges his nose to the underside of your jaw until you lean your head back, breathing hard, giving him room to attach teeth and lips to the skin of your neck. 

He gathers a bit of skin and worries it between his teeth, muttering, “You won’t kill me. No one else can make you come undone like I do.”

The sound that tears out of you is half laugh and half desperate groan. “Prove it, then,” you goad, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and pulling the edge towards you. He releases the spot on your neck long enough to let you pull the material over his head. Then he sits back on his knees between your legs and looks you over, one hand absently sliding down the front of his trousers, pressing relief into his waiting cock.

“Yours,” he says, tone steely. You find your own hem with shaking fingers. Distantly, there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the canopy of tree branches above you before plunging you into darkness again. You pull your top over your head and drop it next to his, leaning back on your elbows.

All thoughts of what you’re supposed to do here have left you; there’s only hands-shaking adrenaline and instinct driving you to give in to your desires and pursue what you want - Yoongi, Yoongi, more of Yoongi.

“Trousers, too,” Yoongi tells you, voice quiet. His fingers are on the string of his own trousers, but his eyes are on your exposed chest. Hungry. 

You do as he says, untying your bottoms and pushing them away with your feet and waiting for his next move. The night isn’t cold, but you shiver. The forest, your forest, feels like a sanctuary, like it’s wrapping around the two of you and keeping you safe from everything outside. Like if you stayed in here, together, you might be safe from her after all.

But you know that’s a lie. 

You push the thought away by coming up on your knees and approaching Yoongi, who’s still kneeling, too. You press your chest to him with a shudder as you reach to kiss him again. He gives a quiet, happy noise low in his throat and you answer with a hum as you lick into him again.

You slip a hand between your bodies and find him heavy and leaking. He presses into your touch with a nearly-silent keen that you manage to catch, and you trace your fingertips up his length, playing in the wetness you find waiting for you at the tip, then pulling that wetness down to the base again. You repeat the motion, touch featherlight, and listen to Yoongi’s breathing hitch and catch and sigh as he closes his eyes and enjoys it. He’s silky against your fingertips, skin like satin even here.

Yoongi trails kisses down your jaw, making a clear path towards your neck, and he skims a hand up your side and past your ribs, cupping one breast and rubbing his thumb roughly over your hardening nipple. You gasp, fingers twitching against his length, which spurs him on. He runs his knuckles lightly over the bud, then takes it gently between his thumb and forefinger, giving it an experimental roll. Your gasped ah turns into a liquid moan and he does it again, harder. You keen, a note of complaint in it, as he repeats the movement that is somehow both too much and not enough. 

You wrap your hand fully around him, done teasing him with barely-there strokes, and roll your wrist once, twice, three times, his low grumbling reply music to your ears. He’s still mouthing at your neck and he switches hands, igniting sparks as he gently pinches the other nipple instead. Then he reaches and bumps your wrist out of his way as he cups your sex and spears you on his middle finger. 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, rocking into his hand, trying to take the digit just a little deeper. 

He must hear the desperation in your tone or sense it in the way you clench around his single finger, because he takes mercy on you and presses a second finger in beside the first. You sigh, still rocking against his hand, as he fucks into the spot in your front wall that makes your eyes drift closed and your toes curl up. You abandon his cock, bringing your hands to his shoulders, hanging on to keep yourself upright. When he presses his thumb against your clit you groan, loud and long, no one to hear you, and let your head fall back.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, plunging his fingers in and out of your wet heat. You can hear it each time he pushes them back in, the sound ringing in the silent woods, the only competition the approaching rolls of gentle thunder.

He works you up until you’re panting, your forehead dropping to rest against his collarbone, your hips in constant motion as you seek more. Your arms are looped around his neck, though you don’t remember starting to hold him, and your fingers find the ends of his long hair, tugging lightly in time with his motions. Occasionally his thumb circles your clit, causing your hips to jerk, but the angle stops him from keeping it constant. He pulls his hand away, and you take a bracing breath, coming back to your senses as the sensations fade. 

He drops back from his knees, one arm behind his head as he lays back. He locks his eyes on yours as he strokes himself, his teeth toying with his bottom lip. 

“Come on, then,” he prompts, his hand languid and lazy on his cock. Your body buzzes as you climb over him and sink down, letting him fill you, stretch you, break you into pieces. You ride him hard, one hand splayed on his flushed chest for balance, as around you the wind picks up, the leaves on the trees fluttering.

Yoongi’s eyes screw closed and his head tips back, even as his hands continue to guide your hips through each rise and fall.

You slow, savoring the drag against your walls, savoring his pretty skin beneath your fingers, savoring the grunts and hitched breaths he’s trying to hold back.

You could have loved Yoongi. In another life, where you had chips to bargain with. In a life where you fit into place within the village, where wild wasn’t as necessary to you as air. Even if the Queen had never called for Yoongi’s head - this life never meant for you to love him.

This is what you think about as you lightly rake your nails down his chest, watching him squirm beneath you. You think about all the times he’d been on the edge of saying it.

You think about all the times the feeling had risen up in you, as warm as a patch of sunlit floor, and you’d had to blow it away like an errant dandelion seed.

Maybe you do love him. You just can’t forget - not for a second - how little it matters.

The knife sits where you’d dropped it before undressing, just past Yoongi’s head.

You could probably reach it now.

Yoongi seems to sense the change in your motions and cracks an eye open, his fingers on your hips loosening.

His gaze follows yours. A flash of lightning makes the metal shine for a split second, and then you’re surrounded by the sudden patter of falling rain.

“Guess we better hurry,” Yoongi mutters, reaching up to grip the back of your neck and pulling you down so your chest is flush with his.

All thoughts leave your mind as he hammers into you from below - the knife is forgotten. Your feelings are forgotten. The rain, starting to muddy up the ground around you, forgotten.

You cum around him in silence, jaw clenched, fingers digging into his biceps. The groan he lets out as you squeeze around him in waves is drowned out by a growl of thunder that feels like it’s right above you, all around you.

Yoongi pumps into you with abandon, suddenly losing the rhythm he’d created. He gives two more shuddery thrusts and then lets his arms flop to the ground with a contented sigh.

For a second, you both lay there, sweat-slick and panting. Another lightning splits the sky, and the rain comes harder. He slides out of you and you wiggle until you’re laying just next to him instead of on top of him.

You can’t stop looking at him. He seems determined not to look at you.

The rain washes everything away - the smell of sex, your sweat, your affection, your sadness, your pride.

“My father,” he murmurs beneath you, and you go deathly still. “Yes, I knew.”

You swallow, brush rainwater from your brow. “So does the Queen,” you say back. An explanation, and an answer to the why he’d leveled at you an hour ago.

He nods slowly, expression clearing with understanding.

You feel no absolution for it.

Finally, he leans his head back again, his bangs flopping heavily now that they’re saturated with rainwater, and eyes the knife.

You sit up. He brings his eyes to you and watches silently - as if he accepts whatever move you make. As if, should you reach for the metal, he wouldn’t fight you this time.

“Go.” The word tumbles roughly onto the inch of mud between you. You don’t remember making the decision to say it.

He sits up, elbows and shoulders caked with mud. But all he does is watch you, wait for you to change your mind.

“Go,” you repeat, meaning it. Now that you’ve said it once, now that the decision was made, you know it’s the right one. “I’ll tell her it’s done.”

You could never kill him. You both knew it all along.

He dresses wordlessly, and you do the same, pulling your top back over your head and tying up your trouser string. When you look up, he’s standing in the rain, watching you.

You stoop and grab the knife he’d made you. You grip it tightly in your hand, refuse to meet his eyes.

He’s not challenging you, not questioning you - and that, in itself, feels like a slap.

“You can’t come back,” you say, as evenly as you can muster. When he just looks at you, infuriatingly silent, you add, “You can’t. Okay? If she - she can never know.”

“I know,” he says, and then he gives you a long, searching look. He’s drenched now, and your hands itch to push his set hair away from his face, to use your thumbs to chase raindrops - you think - away from his lashline.

Then, choked, he offers, “You could -”

“Don’t,” you bite out, stopping him before he can make you any kind of offer. You can’t. You can’t go with him. You can’t disappear into the night. Your brother is counting on you. You won’t let him pay for your sins.

Yoongi shakes his head. He takes another step closer. Your fingers tighten on the knife’s handle.

“Y/N, I -”

You raise the knife above your head in a flash, eyes going wide in fury.

“Fucking go!” you bark.

He holds up his hands, takes a few steps backwards, giving up his quest to make this harder than it needs to be. Lightning illuminates him and above your head, the blade shines for a split second before everything is cast into inky darkness again.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, trees around you forming a shape again, he’s gone.

You don’t follow him, and you don’t return to your cabin. You sink to your knees in the mud, dropping the knife onto the ground, and sob into your hands, the noise swallowed by the flurry of rain and the intermittent cracks of thunder.

—

You sleep. You hunt. When the time comes, you bring your scores to the Queen atop your wagon.

She doesn’t ask you about Yoongi. You don’t offer her anything, just thank her for her grace routinely when she orders your purse to be filled.

You don’t stop at the tavern on the way back home. You don’t stop at any of the shops - not this time. You don’t trust yourself to act right if Yoongi’s disappearance gets brought up. You don’t trust that no one will do the math that he vanished four nights ago, and now you’re a hollowed shell who can’t form words.

The townspeople have seen you grieve before. They’d know what they were seeing.

The next trip is easier, and the one after that even more. The Queen never thanks you, not that you expected it, but you start finding an extra purse of coins in your wagon each time you return to it after bringing in your kills.

The price for your silence. The price for what she thinks you’ve done.

It hurts the most when your wagon passes the smithy, but you keep your eyes on the cobblestones and your hands on the reins and eventually the hurt fades along with the village as you get farther and farther away.

The seasons turn. The hurts fade. You send extra money to your brother. You sleep. You hunt.

Eventually, you stop waking up from nightmares that feature the glint of metal. You stop waking up trying desperately to cling to your dreams as fruitlessly as clinging to smoke, left with only damp places on your pillow and the memory of a low, throaty chuckle ringing in your ears.

Eventually, you can ride past the smithy without the pang in your chest. You can stop for a pint without watching the shadows for the appearance of a gummy smile. You can laugh when the bartender cracks a joke, can sound like yourself when you ask the baker’s daughter how she’s been faring.

It is after one of these trips, deep into color-saturated autumn, that you return to your cabin with wagon empty and purses full.

Something isn’t right. You freeze, casting your eyes around the forest, but it holds its secrets tight.

On the ground in front of your door, illuminated by the late afternoon sunlight, is a brand new, shining blade.

thank you so much for reading!!! i really really like this one and i hope you do too!! <3

[pinchofhoney]

broken promises, part two

« part one | part two | part three »

coriolanus snow x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning: angst, feeling of being betrayed, heartbreak

summary: In Snow's world, only one thing mattered more than his family's reputation—you. But that was before he met Lucy Gray.

a/n: it's for those few people who have read part one, thank you<33 i hope more people will crawl here like doctor gaul snakes after the film's premiere, so i'd like to ask: do you want a third part in which our lovely reader meets snow again after his return to the capitol? 🐍

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @metalarmsandmanbuns

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

Welcome to the Capitol.

The resonance of those four simple words echoed through your thoughts as you sat in the grand living room of your family's penthouse. The room was bathed in soft, golden light, a stark contrast to the surreal scenes that played out on the broadcast, straight from the Capitol's zoo.

After Coriolanus had greeted Lucy Gray on the platform, exchanging a few words with the young tribute, he turned to you, his eyes filled with determination as the girl was now walking away, heading toward a boy from her district.

“I should go with her,” he said with a sense of urgency in his voice as he glanced back at the girl in the rainbow dress.

“What do you mean?” your brows knitted in confusion, asking a question which redirected his gaze to you.

“I should escort her to her accommodation, I must show her that I am trustworthy,” he explained in haste and without waiting for your response, he stepped to the side and reached out to get the attention of one of the Peacekeepers by lightly touching the man's arm.

“Excuse me,” Coriolanus began. “I’m Coriolanus Snow from the Academy.” He nodded toward Lucy Gray. “This tribute has been assigned to me for the Hunger Games. I wonder if I might accompany her to her quarters.”

The Peacekeeper's gaze flitted over Coriolanus' shoulder, briefly meeting yours before responding, “That’s why you've been hanging around here all morning? To catch a ride to the show?” He granted permission for Coriolanus to join the tributes, adding, “Just you,” as he directed his attention to the transport truck destined for the tributes.

Your gaze followed the Peacekeeper's, and as you glimpsed the vehicle awaiting the tributes, your mouth fell open in surprise. Stepping closer to Coriolanus, you took his hand.

“You're not going to get in there, are you, Coryo?” your concern shifted from the truck to Coriolanus, your brows furrowing as you made a plea through your eyes. The transport before you resembled a wheeled animal cage, starkly underscoring the Capitol's dehumanization of the tributes.

“I can't leave her alone,” Coriolanus stated, briefly glancing your way before gently pulling his hand away and moving toward the vehicle.

“Yes, you can,” you protested, following closely behind him as the first tributes began to enter the cage.

“Everything will be fine, Y/N,” Coriolanus reassured you, pausing near the truck. He looked down at you and spoke calmly, trying to ease the visible anxiety on your face. He brushed tenderly a strand of hair behind your ear and held your gaze. “Go home and don't worry, I'll come visit you later, okay?”

“You don't have to do this, Coryo…”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, turning to face the vehicle. He made eye contact with Lucy Gray and not even a moment had passed when he was already climbing onto the truck.

You wanted to say more, to stop him from taking this step, but you understood it was too late. Coriolanus had already made up his mind, and he wasn't one to back down. You anxiously bit your lip, a silent witness as the truck's door slammed shut. A few moments later, the engine roared to life, taking Coriolanus away from you.

Anxiety weighed heavily on your heart as you stood there like a helpless spectator. As the vehicle departed, it stirred up dust, leaving you in loneliness on the platform. You played distracted with the strands of hair Coriolanus had so gently tucked behind your ear. The fading truck held your gaze captive, making it nearly impossible to look away.

Though it felt like an eternity, only a few seconds had passed since Coriolanus had left your side. You took a deep breath, finally releasing your hair from your anxious fingers. With fresh determination, you made your way toward the train station's exit, whispering reassuring words to yourself. You held on to the belief that everything would be all right and that Coriolanus would soon return, just as he had promised, to stand at your doorstep.

Now you were fixated on the television screen, preoccupied in the spectacle playing out in the Capitol's monkey house. Your eyes were following Lucy Gray closely while keeping an eye out for Coriolanus in the background. Your family, including your parents and sister, sat alongside you, intrigued by the broadcast as much as you were.

“What's he doing there?” your father asked, a furrow of confusion creasing his brow. Both your parents held a deep affection for young Snow, but your father had a particular respect for him. He remembered Coriolanus's father, a general during the First Rebellion, and believed him to be a positive influence on you.

“Seems like he's doing his best,” you replied, though your words carried a hint of uncertainty. You were well aware of Coriolanus's determination to shine in his role, to demonstrate to the entire Capitol that the Snow name always remained at the top. And you supported him wholeheartedly, but there was a distinct difference between assuring him of his abilities in the quiet moments and witnessing it all unfold.

After a moment, the metal door of the monkey house slid open, and Coriolanus's voice reached your ears. “Thank you for being with us today. Remember, this is Lucy Gray Baird from the Twelfth District. Drop by the zoo in your free time to say hello. I promise it's worth to meet her.”

Your lip was nervously bitten as you observed Coriolanus planting a tender kiss on Lucy Gray's hand, which she extended for a good bye. When his lips touched her skin, you experienced an unfamiliar sensation. You couldn't quite name the emotion or pinpoint its origin, but it left you feeling uneasy. You couldn't make sense of the emotion's complexity, but you knew you didn't like what you saw, which felt irrational.

As Coriolanus disappeared behind the closing metal door, you reached for the TV remote and switched off the device with a single click. You sank back into the sofa cushions, a heavy sigh escaping your lips, your thoughts in chaos.

Days after Coriolanus's first meeting with Lucy Gray, you couldn't escape the creeping sense of distance that was growing between you and the man who had once been your closest companion. It was as if a heavy cloud of isolation hung over you, casting a shadow on the bond you had cherished for so many years.

His devotion to the Games and his newly formed relationship with Lucy Gray was undeniable, and it began to overshadow the connection you had nurtured for what felt like a lifetime. It was disheartening to witness each passing day pull him further into the role of mentor, to see him dedicating hours upon hours to planning strategies, discussing tactics, and offering unwavering emotional support to Lucy Gray.

You yearned to remain supportive, to be the pillar that he had leaned on for so long, but an unsettling feeling gnawed at you, a feeling of slowly but surely being relegated to the outskirts of his life, as if your importance was diminishing.

Your thoughts on Coriolanus and his rapidly growing relationship with Lucy Gray were a storm of conflicting emotions. On one hand, you couldn't help but respect his unwavering dedication to his role as a mentor, his sincere desire to succeed, and his wholehearted commitment to the Games. Yet, on the other hand, a bitter mixture of jealousy and hate welled up within you. Your place in his life was steadily being eclipsed by someone new, someone unique and gifted. While you had never personally known Coriolanus's mother, you had heard numerous stories that depicted her as a paragon of gentleness and a lover of music—traits you found mirrored in Lucy Gray. It was no wonder that Coriolanus held her in such high regard.

This acknowledgment was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving a lingering taste of sorrow. It simply made you wondering where you now stood in Coriolanus's heart.

But the turning point came just few days after the tributes' arrival in the Capitol when the mentors and their pupils were granted access to the Arena. It was a rare opportunity for the tributes to gain insight into the brutal challenge that awaited them, and Coriolanus was determined to provide Lucy Gray the guidance she so desperately needed.

However, as the mentors and tributes wander into the Arena, a sudden wave of chaos shattered the peace. Two deafening explosions rocked the surroundings, plunging everyone into a maelstrom of fear and pandemonium. Coriolanus was one of the few injured, and he was hurriedly transported to the hospital, where his medical condition was taken care of by Capitol’s nurses.

The following day, he gradually woke up from unconsciousness. You had spend a sleepless night, filled with relentless worry, and now, as you sat by his bedside, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Relief flowed over you like a gentle balm, yet it couldn't wholly assuage the profound concern that continued to clutch at your heart.

When you heard what happened in the Arena, you had immediately asked your father to drive you to the hospital. You were consumed by nervousness for Coriolanus, and the misery he endured within the Arena's walls filled you with a sickening dread. The mere thought of it sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

As his eyes slowly blinked open, meeting yours, a soft and heartfelt smile graced your lips. “You're awake,” you murmured softly, your voice a blend of relief and worry. “How are you feeling? What happened?” The concern in your eyes was undeniable, reflecting the depth of your worry for his well-being.

“Y/N?” Coriolanus croaked in a hoarse voice. He cleared his throat quickly and sought out the hand that belonged to you, gently squeezing it. “Hi,” he said with a forced smile.

The touch of his hand in yours was a silent promise of connection and comfort. You could see the remnants of fatigue and distress in his eyes, but the smile he summoned, even if forced, warmed your heart.

You couldn't help but lean in closer, your voice gentle and filled with compassion. “I was so worried about you,” you confessed, your concern unmistakable in your tone. “What happened in the Arena? Are you in pain?”

Coriolanus's grip on your hand tightened slightly, and he began to recount the harrowing events. He painted a vivid picture of the chaos, the disarray, and the sheer panic that had gripped them when the bombs exploded. His narrative was disturbing, and as he spoke, the weight of the trauma he had endured seemed to settle upon both of you.

After sharing his part of the story, Coriolanus momentarily fell silent, allowing the unspoken question to linger in the air. It was as if he awaited your inquiry about Lucy Gray, the unspoken thread that connected him to the tribute under his wing. But before you could voice your concern, he gently cleared his throat and, in a voice still laced with the remnants of his hoarseness, asked, “How is Lucy Gray? Is she okay?”

“I-I don’t know,” you answered honestly, your brow gently furrowing with concern. The truth was, Lucy Gray hadn't occupied your thoughts even once. In fact, you hadn't even considered your friends that were taking the place of the mentors, let alone the tributes arriving from the districts. Instead, it was all Coriolanus who had consumed your mind, leaving little room for anyone or anything else.

In response to your uncertainty, Coriolanus offered assurance, though it felt like he was speaking more to himself than to you. “She's strong,” he affirmed, the words laden with the weight of his concern for Lucy Gray. “She saved my life,” he added, and the profound gratitude in his voice was palpable, underscoring the remarkable bond that had formed between the two of them.

In the following days, you made every effort to stay close to Coriolanus whenever you could. The recent events in the Arena had deeply affected both of you, and the mere thought of something similar occurring in the Capitol filled you with dread. You genuinely believed, albeit mistakenly, that your presence could act as a protective shield, guarantee his safety.

Your intentions were sincere and born out of concern, but with each passing day, it became increasingly evident that Coriolanus was becoming increasingly annoyed by your constant presence. While at first he may have appreciated your support, the demands of his mentorship duties and the complexities of preparing Lucy Gray for her role in the 10th Hunger Games began to make your company more of a obstacle than a help.

Tensions, which had once been nonexistent, began to mount, and the nature of your relationship with Coriolanus was going through a sudden changes. You found yourself facing the reality that your kindhearted attempts to shield him were, in fact, pushing him further away when your intention had been quite the opposite, to draw closer.

On your special day, your birthday, you had looked forward to finally spending some quality time with Coriolanus. It was a day where you had hoped to enjoy each other's company, seeking a break from his intense mentorship and the relentless demands of the Capitol.

However, as the hours progressed, it became clear that something had shifted between you and Coriolanus. The atmosphere grew heavy with tension, and the warmth that had once defined your relationship seemed to have suddenly faded away.

In a moment of frustration, Coriolanus addressed you with an unusual severity, his words slicing through the silence like shards of ice. “Y/N,” he began, “I can't focus on my tasks with you always around. Your presence is causing disruption and complicating my already challenging responsibilities.”

His words hit you like a heavy blow, causing a deep confusion. It was the first time he had spoken to you with such detachment and coldness, and the realisation that you had become a burden rather than a source of comfort weighed heavily on you.

Puzzled by this sudden change in his behavior, you furrowed your brow and sought clarity. “Hm?” you responded, your voice reflecting your growing uncertainty.

Coriolanus's gaze remained unyielding, his demeanor stern and distant. This was a stark contrast to the Coriolanus you had known, the one who had always been warm and caring.

In an attempt to understand the extent of this transformation, you pressed further. "I don't understand," you began, your voice trembling slightly, “It's my birthday, and I had hoped we could spend some time together.”

The weight of his disapproval and your own sense of isolation bore down on you, as if you stood on the edge of a vast divide that separated you from the Coriolanus you had once known.

After a prolonged silence, Coriolanus finally spoke, his words carrying a chilly detachment that cut deep. “I have responsibilities to fulfill. You must understand that my focus needs to be on my duties as a mentor. Your presence is truly annoying, and I can't afford being distracted.”

Another pause followed before he continued, his gaze unwavering. “You need to grasp that the world doesn't revolve around you, Y/N. You are not the most important person here. You celebrate your birthday every year, but I only have one chance to win a scholarship, and I must seize it.”

The weight of his words pressed upon you, and you couldn't help but asked next question. “Coryo,” you said, your voice wavering with confusion and a deep hurt, “Is being a mentor more important to you than me?”

He met your gaze with an unflinching intensity and replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

The blunt simplicity of his answer cut deeply, leaving you stunned and grappling with a hurricane of emotions. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had shifted, and you were standing on unfamiliar terrain. You had believed that your connection was unbreakable, that your presence in each other's lives was irreplaceable. Now, the stark reality was that his ambitions and duties had eclipsed your place in his heart.

The words echoed in your mind, and you struggled to make sense of what had just come to light. The pain welled up within you, but you didn't cry just yet. Instead, you were left feeling disoriented and wounded, your heart heavy with a sense of loss.

“You need to understand that my future, my education, and my family's reputation all ride on this scholarship. It's an opportunity I can't afford to miss. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, but right now, my focus has to be on the Games and my duties as a mentor,” Coriolanus explained, his tone softer now as he realized the harshness of his previous words, words that you certainly didn't deserve.

You bit your lip, looking down at your shoes and fidgeting with your hands. “I miss you, Coryo,” you admitted, your eyes still avoiding his. “I miss the old you. I can't remember the last time you asked how I was doing, or held my hand. I'm the one worrying about you all the time, and it feels like you're treating me like... like someone you can just hire,” you finally lifted your gaze to meet his, searching for any sign of remorse for the pain he had caused.

But he remained silent, his lips tightly pressed into a thin line.

“I just feel like Lucy Gray has become more important to you than I am,” you continued, your disbelief clear in your voice.

“It's not like that…” he sighed finally.

“And what is it like?”

“Lucy Gray is... she's special, of course she is. She's the only path leading me to victory.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “If she's just a pawn in your game, then why do you look at her like you're falling in love with her more and more every day?”

The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on both of you. Coriolanus's gaze wavered for a moment, as if caught off guard by the directness of your words. It was a question he hadn't fully considered, and the emotional complexity of his feelings was now inescapable.

“I can't explain it, Y/N,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “Lucy Gray is... she's unlike anyone I've ever met. She's captivating in a way I can't fully grasp.”

Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest, and you staggered back, away from him, unable to bear the weight of his words.

“So what are you saying now?” you asked, your voice quivering, as though hoping he could provide some clarity.

Coriolanus hesitated, his frustration giving way to a deep conflict within him. He ran a trembling hand through his almost white hair, a sign of the inner chaos that now consumed him.

“I'm saying that things have changed,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I can't deny that Lucy Gray has become a significant part of my life, and it's... complicated.”

The distance between you and Coriolanus had grown into an overwhelming chasm. You took another step back, increasing the physical space between you, though you knew it couldn't stitch the emotional void that now divided you.

“What does that mean for us, Coryo?” you asked, your voice quivering and your heart heavy with sadness and uncertainty. “Are we... Are we over?”

Coriolanus didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant as he searched for an answer in the distance. When his eyes finally met yours again, they held the pain of a man caught between two worlds.

“I don't want to say that, Y/N,” he replied, his voice full of anguish. “But right now, I need to focus on the Games. We can't pretend that things are the same as they were.”

As Coriolanus's words fell heavily between you, the room seemed to close in, and the storm of emotions within you reached a turbulent peak. Your voice wavered, a lump forming in your throat, while tears welled up, blurring your vision. Your heart ached with an amalgamation of anger, betrayal, and a searing sense of loss.

“Is that all, Coryo?” you cried out, your voice breaking, a mixture of anguish and fury lacing your words. “After everything we've been through, everything we meant to each other, it comes down to this? You're just going to cast me aside because of some girl from the Districts? I thought we had something special, something that overstep all this madness.”

Coriolanus's face mirrored your emotions. He extended his hand towards you in an attempt to bridge the growing chasm, but as your trembling form took one more step back, his outstretched fingers hung in the air.

“This isn't what I wanted,” Coriolanus said, the weight of the situation heavy in his voice. “But I can't change it, Y/N. I can't let anything threaten my chances in the Games.”

Your voice, now tinged with bitterness and a mixture of anger and despair. “You know what, Snow? I hope your beloved Lucy Gray meets an end sooner than you now expect,” you spat out, your words dripping with frustration and a sense of betrayal.

With those final, cutting words, you turned away, your shoulders heaving with the weight of your own tears. As you walked away, leaving him alone under the monkey house building, the pain of the crack that had torn through your relationship gnawed at your soul, a wound that may never fully heal.

Your intentions were far from those words; you genuinely wanted the best for him. Yet, in that moment, you realised that the fear of losing might have been the one thing that truly wounded Coriolanus.

part three »

[simpforboys]

Just an idea but olo'eyktan!neteyam and preggo!reader but it's that one scene from ice age 3 where the dads like panicking and running around thinking that the baby's coming but its was actually a kick. (LOOK IK THE MOVIES ABOUT 12 FOOT FURRY ELEPHANTS BUT DON"T JUDGE ME ITS A 3AM THOUGHT) (link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfxmRsWGg_0)

-🍄

i think this is my sign to rewatch the ice age movies (i'm an ice age stan)

right here

olo'eyktan!neteyam x fem!pregnant!reader

summary: when a false rumor gets back to neteyam, it leads the anxious mighty warrior to panic

warnings: fluff, pre-dad!neteyam, swearing, neteyam is my fav boy ever

aged up characters

the raging wind blew neteyam's long braids as he rode his ikran, soldiers following behind him as they made their weekly hunt.

neteyam's ears flicked from the wind, his loincloth and feathered vest blowing gracefully.

neteyam called out to his warriors, circling in on an animal pack.

however, as they were beginning to land their ikrans, a call came in through the ear piece the group were wearing.

"neteyam- it is y/n. she has gone into labor."

neteyam's body froze once he heard lo'ak speak. his heart was pounding as the men and women looked at their leader, waiting for his word.

"continue with the kill."

his command was quick as he took off, ikran roaring as the banshee felt neteyam's nerves. he hadn't noticed his shaky hands and pounding heartbeat, his focus on getting home to you.

he landed quickly in the high camp, surprised there aren't more people panicking.

"where is y/n?" neteyam asked one of the people. the girl just shrugged back in response, watching neteyam take off.

"neteyam!" lo'ak caught sight of his brother. they both ran towards each other.

"where is she?" neteyam rushed.

"over here, c'mon, bro!" lo'ak lead his brother.

"i'm having a baby!" he announced to the clan, excitement taking over his long body.

people whooped and cheered, the women and children cocking their head at the olo'eyktan.

there had been no sign from eywa of you having your child, being only eight months along.

"code blue! code blue!" lo'ak ran with his brother, their large feet padding against the stone ground.

"or pink if it's a girl." neteyam happily slapped his brother's shoulder.

the tent was getting closer, neteyam pausing to grab some fresh water for you. his excitement was turning into nerves as lo'ak looked at his hesitant brother.

"what is wrong?" he asked, confusedly walking up to neteyam.

"it's finally happening... and i-"

"what is finally happening?"

your gentle voice scared both the brothers, your bulging belly appearing from the tent.

"my love- aren't you supposed to be in labor?"

neteyam's giant hand placed itself on your belly, feeling your baby kick against his palm.

"what?" you asked, your brow bow furrowing at your mate.

"oh my eywa- lo'ak i told you! it was just a kick!"

neteyam's ears fell flat as he looked between you and his little brother, the future uncle now blushing from embarrassment.

you rolled your eyes at lo'ak, feeling neteyam's hand travel down near the band of your loincloth. he stood on his knees, face by your tummy as he kissed your belly button.

"you gave sempu (daddy) a scare, baby."

"mhm." you playfully rolled your eyes, softly punching lo'ak in the arm.

"hey!"

the surrounding clan members whom where excited to welcome their future olo'eyktan or tsahik frowned from lo'ak's false rumor.

"that is the second false alarm this month!" a child pouted.

"alright people, nothing to see here." lo'ak pushed away the crowd as they went back to their tasks.

"darling, i know you are nervous. i am too, but that was a bit too much." you cupped neteyam's face as he stood now, slightly towering over you.

your pregnancy made your height shrink slightly, going from 8'8 to 8'6. neteyam kissed your forehead, standing at 9'4.

"i am sorry, i am just scared."

you rubbed your belly as your made pulled you into his embrace.

"i have seen you with tuk and the children, ma neteyam. you are going to be an amazing father."

neteyam reassuringly smiled.

"i will be right here with you every step of the way."

and once the baby did come, neteyam was calmer than ever (on the outside, not internally).

this was so cute omg