#whether I’ll finish them… lol is the question

[evanescentsun]

SSBDAY2 | Time Capsule

During spring cleaning with the Uzumaki, Sarada unexpectedly comes across a picture that Nanadaime took post-mission after seeing how Sasuke n Sakura fell asleep like that<3

[selfcarecap]

Halloween [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x neighbour!reader

summary: You dress up as Wolverine for Wade’s Halloween party and it unleashes something in Logan. Him wearing a Ghostface mask also unleashes something in you. Or: Logan fucks you wearing a Ghostface mask.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral, unprotected (but inconsequential) p in v, creampie, doggy in front of a mirror, missionary, cum eating and also Logan spitting it into reader’s mouth, brief chasing kink, (Ghostface) mask kink obv, pet names: bub, baby, good girl), worst!Logan I guess but I couldn’t find a pic to use, Wade being Wade 

word count: 3.8k

note: I didn’t have that much time to write this but I wanted to post something for Logan before Halloween so <3, inspired by that I want to be fucked for Halloween sound on tt lol you'll see what I mean, and some ideas me and @ethanhoewke talked about 🤭, also I’ve never watched Scream so all I can do is mention the mask lol | gorgeous dividers by @dollywons & @anitalenia <3

You meet your neighbours Logan and Wade in the laundry room of your building on Thursday night. They’re fighting over whether they’re going to do a couple’s costume for Wade’s Halloween party next week. 

“We’re not a couple, Wade. We’re not doing a couple’s costume.”

Wade sighs as he stuffs his blood splattered clothes into the washing machine – you’ve learnt not to ask anymore. 

“Hey,” Logan says when he sees you, and those three letters are enough to make your cheeks heat up. You wave at them both, busying yourself with your own washing. 

Wade puts his hand on his hip, “Can you believe Logie won’t do a couple’s costume with me after I adopted him and put a roof over his head? He’s such an ungrateful brat.”

You giggle, meeting Logan’s gaze as he rolls his eyes at his roommate. He turns away to let you do your laundry in peace but Wade walks over to you, sitting down on the bench behind you. 

“What do you want to be for Halloween? Sexy nurse? Sexy doctor? Sexy cop?”

You laugh, “Why do they all have to be sexy?”

“Because it’s you, so it’s impossible for the costume to not be sexy,” Wade raises his eyebrows and you smile at the compliment, sitting down next to him. 

You sigh as you think about his question. 

“Fucked, Wade. I want to be fucked for Halloween.”

You hear a chuckle from Logan a few feet away. You were hoping he wasn’t listening, but he does you the favour of keeping his head turnt in the other direction as he sorts through laundry. You’re closer with Wade – you didn’t necessarily want Logan knowing how badly you need to get laid. 

Wade points to his own chest, “Wait, by moi?”

“I love you but I’d prefer someone who doesn’t look like a burnt chicken nugget.”

“You know what? Even though I look like a burnt chicken nugget, I still love myself. Learned that from the OG.”

You smile, “And anyway, I thought you and Vanessa were back together?”

“That we are,” Wade says, rising to his feet and twirling out of the room like a ballerina, calling out, “I’ll see you later for movie night!” 

“He’s fucking crazy,” Logan says, chuckling, and you smile as you finish doing your laundry. 

-

You’re late to Wade’s Halloween party the following week. You rush two floors up to their shared apartment, but your knocks go unnoticed through the loud music coming from inside and the door won’t open. 

You’re about to get your phone out to call Wade but you realise you can’t. Your fake claws are in the way. 

You’re dressed up as Logan. You recently saw some pictures of when he was younger, effortlessly hot in a tanktop and jeans, hair styled charmingly, almost like kitty ears. 

Accordingly, you’ve got yourself a fitted tanktop, jeans that make you stop in front of every mirror to admire your backside, and a belt with a big buckle like the ones he used to wear. You’ve paired your outfit with kitty ears the colour of your hair and, of course, fake claws protruding between your fingers. 

You hope Logan doesn’t take offence. In your rush to get ready for the party, you didn’t even consider that. 

What if he doesn’t like your costume? What if he thinks it’s disrespectful? You know he’s struggled with his mutation, after all, hurt people he loved because of it. Wade told you the costume was a good idea when you showed him your outfit the other day, but Wade isn’t Logan. 

Plus, it’s Halloween. Halloween is supposed to be scary, even if most people’s costumes aren’t scary nowadays. What if Logan thinks you’re calling him a scary monster? Oh god. You’re considering going downstairs and changing – into what, you don’t know, but the last thing you want is to offend Logan, and if there’s even just a small chance of it then you don’t want to do it after all. Suddenly, you see Logan.  

He’s walking down the hallway where you’ve zoned out, arms folded awkwardly because of your claws. He stops in his tracks, a plastic shopping bag hanging from his hand, and he’s squinting at you; you wouldn’t say he looks mad but you’re not sure. 

Logan comes closer, folding his arms. “Are you supposed to be me?” 

A smile creeps on his face as you tentatively answer with a “…yeah?”

He looks you up and down and it makes your skin heat up as he takes a step forward, “Not sure if I should be offended, bub.”

Oh no–

He continues with a smirk, “Going around stealin’ a man’s look and doing it better than him? Can’t say that outfit used to look that good on me.” You sigh a breath of relief. He likes it. You smile at his compliment, and then he’s reaching out to give a light tug on the cat ears in your hair. 

“I don’t get what these are supposed to be though.”

You push the plastic hair band back in place as you smile up at him, “You know exactly what they are.”

Logan shrugs. “You got something wrong though.”

He stands next to you with the side of his arm pressed against yours, and you gulp at the sudden contact with his warm, beefy arm. Logan makes a fist and unsheathes his claws, holding them next to yours, and they’re at least three times the length of your fake ones, metal sparkling even in the shitty light of the corridor. 

“Should be much bigger,” he smirks, pulling them back in and unlocking the door for you. You don’t miss the implication behind his words, and you swallow as you step into the loud party in their apartment that is decorated to the nines for Halloween. 

Wade runs over to you to hug you, wearing a sexy maid costume over his Deadpool suit. 

“I love it,” you tell him while he simultaneously compliments your outfit. You look around for Logan and only just catch him closing the door to his bedroom, and he disappears behind it. You were too distracted just now to realise that he wasn’t even wearing a costume. 

Your shoulders deflate as you realise he’s probably not coming back out. He was half of the reason you even came to the party. You were looking forward to spending some time with him, but now that you think about it, you wouldn’t expect him to be interested in a Halloween party, crafting an elaborate costume and hanging up corny decorations the way Wade did. 

You try to shake off your disappointment and enjoy yourself nevertheless. 

-

You’re stumbling back to the kitchen after dancing with Wade and Vanessa, getting yourself a drink. You’re softly humming to the music coming from the other room when you feel a presence behind you. 

Your heart speeds up for a moment when you see someone in a Ghostface mask standing right beside you. He’s wearing the mask with a black, tight tanktop stretched over his broad chest. You smell Logan’s cologne as the scent swirls in the air around you, but you could have recognised him by the veins on his arms alone.  

You try to keep your hopes at bay but you can’t help but wonder if he’s wearing the mask because of you. When you watched Scream with him and Wade the other night, Wade kept teasing you about your crush on the killer. 

At the time you felt like disappearing, hoping that Logan was as disinterested as he claimed, that he wasn’t listening to anything you two were saying, but now you’re glad he heard. If he’s wearing the costume for your sake. Which he probably isn’t. You’ve tried to convince yourself that your crush is unrequited, just to protect yourself. It’s a common Halloween costume, nothing to do with you… probably. 

“Hi,” Logan says. You can’t see his face but you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Hey…,” you reply, almost shakily, “didn’t think you were coming.”

“I wasn’t going to, couldn’t be bothered to think of a costume. But then I found this so I thought I’ll join you.”

You nod along as he tells you about going out to buy the mask only today, but you’re not paying attention. All you can focus on is how hot it is that you can’t see Logan’s face through the mask, but you still know it’s him. The way his voice is slightly muffled yet strong makes you shudder. 

“So, has your wish for Halloween come true yet?”

You give him a confused smile, only just realising that he’s asking you something.

“You told Wade you wanted to get fucked for Halloween.”

Not able to stop a shy grin from spreading over your face, you say, “Oh. No, hasn’t happened yet. Not counting on it.” 

“No one you like here?” Logan asks, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, trying to think of a flirty reply when Wade’s voice cuts through the tension in the room. 

Wade runs over to Logan, leaning his head to the side flirtily, “I told you it’d look hot, peanut. Are you gonna hunt me later, Mr. Ghostface?” Wade brings a finger to his lip, and, for once, Logan doesn’t get annoyed by his jokes.

“Ghostface only hunts good girls,” Logan says, and your heart starts to beat faster yet again when you realise Logan is looking down at you.

“Am I not a good girl?” Wade asks, and Logan just huffs, ignoring him. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel them on you. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud.

It’s not much later that Logan is chasing you through the hallways of your building, with you giggling and squealing only a few feet ahead of him as the adrenaline pumps through you. 

He gave you a headstart but you know he’ll catch you. You want him to catch you. You’re fumbling with the keys to your apartment when he reaches you, your heart hammering in your chest at the thrill of being chased. 

Logan’s hands go to your waist as he pushes you against your front door. 

“I got you.”

You reach up to gently tug the mask off but he stops you when only his lips are exposed, and he grins. You smile and lean up to kiss him, and you somehow manage to fit your key into the lock while you’re making out and push the door open. 

Logan lifts you and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he carries you to your bedroom. 

With your claws and the rest of your clothes discarded on the floor minutes later, Logan is fucking you in front of the mirror by your bed. He’s taking you from behind, mask still on as he pulls and pushes at your hips with you fucking back against him as the mattress dips beneath you. 

But as hot as it is to see the Ghostface mask looking down at you through the mirror, it’s also your first time having sex with Logan and you want to see him.

“Can I take the mask off?” you ask, looking back at him and Logan lifts you so that your back is flush with his chest. You turn around and pull the mask off over his head with a smile.

His hair is messy and a little bit sweaty, and as good as Logan usually looks you don’t think you’ve ever been quite this attracted to him. He holds your face to press a few sloppy kisses to your lips, and then he turns you back around to face the mirror.

Logan doesn’t push you back on all fours, but takes your arms and clasps them behind your back, holding them together with one big hand. He slides his cock back into your wet pussy and begins to rub your clit with his other hand.

“Look at you,” he nods towards the mirror, and you meet his eyes in it, watching as his gaze trails down your body, to where his hand disappears between your soft thighs, “So fucking pretty.”

You lean your head back against his shoulder as he continues to play with your pussy, but he can’t properly fuck you at this angle, so you buck back against him until he manoeuvres you onto your back.

His lips find yours again and your arm sneaks around the back of his neck, holding him close as you kiss him desperately. You whine when his lips leave yours. He kisses down your neck and over your collarbones, down over your tits and over your belly. He arrives between your legs with a smirk and licks through the wetness of your pussy.

He moans when he first makes contact, “tastes even better than I fucking imagined, baby.”

You smile down at Logan as he pulls your socked feet onto his shoulders, fingers grabbing your ankles. “You’ve imagined this?”

Logan looks up at you, “Every single fucking day. You haven’t?”

You smile bashfully despite his own admission, but he doesn’t let you answer anyway, moving his head back between your legs to make out with your pussy. He pushes two fingers inside you, the tips of his fingers rubbing up against your g-spot.

You begin to squirm as the heat builds up in your lower stomach, but Logan holds your hips down with his muscular forearm over your waist, “Stay still for me, baby, okay?”

Logan starts sucking on your clit, and you cum immediately, back arching as you grab onto his hair. Your pussy pulses and throbs around his fingers as pleasure floods your body. You grind up to meet his mouth and he lets you use him until you’re breathless.

He places a last, rough kiss on your pussy, getting back on his knees to fuck you, but you breathe out, “Give me a second.” You smile shyly, your pussy still squeezing around nothing every few seconds.

“Of course, bub.” He leans down to kiss you and you mumble a question against his lips.

“Can I go down on you?”

Logan smiles and sits up, “Me or…?” he nods over to the mask. 

You shrug shyly, “Well, if you’re offering.”

“Why do you think I wore it?” Logan smirks, pulling the mask back on. You briefly pull it up to his forehead again to give him a small kiss of appreciation.

He holds your hand as you get off the bed, sinking down onto the carpeted floor. You smile as his hard cock bobs in front of your face, glistening with precum and your wetness.

You place your hands on his knees and softly trace a path down his cock with your tongue, gently sucking his balls as you look up. A thrill shoots through you when you only see the mask looking back at you, and you move to suck Logan’s dick into your mouth as deep as you can, tasting your own arousal on him.

He throbs hotly against your tongue as you let spit run down his length, slapping his cock against your tongue.

“Such a good girl,” Logan’s voice sounds from above you, and you look up at him, at the Ghostface mask, as you take his cock in your mouth again, your hands back on his knees for support.

You make out with the head of his cock, gently sucking on the skin down the side of him, licking your way up, playing with him.

“I’m close, baby,” he moans.

You mumble against his skin, telling him to take off the mask, and even though it comes out muffled he hears. Logan tugs off the mask in one quick movement, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in pleasure and his lips bitten raw. His face glows with desire and a hint of sweat, and he hums when you suck him into your mouth.

You use your hand to jerk off the rest of him, moving your mouth down on him as far as you can, and your eyes flutter shut when you hear Logan moan, and he’s spilling the first ropes of his load down your throat. You keep sucking until you’ve swallowed all of his cum, and only then do you take your mouth off him.

Sitting back, suddenly shy, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand but Logan’s already tugging you up to the bed to kiss you.

“You got another orgasm in you?” he asks against your lips. You straddle him and feel his hard cock smack against your thigh as you tell him yes. He tips you onto your back, leaning down to press a wet kiss to your pussy.

When he gets between your legs and pushes his cock into you again it somehow feels even better than the first time as you gasp in pleasure.

“You’re so warm, bub. So perfect. Wanna stay here forever,” Logan says mindlessly as he bottoms out, and you whine into his mouth.

“Want you inside me forever too,” you babble, already fucked out. You wrap your legs around his waist as he fucks you. It feels like your wet pussy is sucking him in with the way you clech around him, and you both know you won’t take long for your next orgasms.

He slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit as he begins to fucks you deeper. “You gonna cum for me again, bub? You make such a cute face when you cum. Let me see it again, baby.”

You’re nodding dumbly and letting the feeling of him take over, not just his big cock in your pussy and his slicked fingers on your clit, but the way his body feels on top of yours, warm skin against warm skin as he sloppily kisses your jaw and neck, and you cream around his cock as you cum, moaning his name.

“That’s it, baby, doin’ so well. Taking my big cock like a good girl, hm?” Logan’s voice is strained, and then he’s cumming too, filling you up with his warm release until your pussy is stuffed full with his cock and his cum. He pulls out slowly and rubs your sensitive clit a little more.

“So pretty,” he mumbles, fucking two fingers into you and when he pulls them out they’re coated in his sticky load.

You reach out to pull him down by his wrist and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking his cum off them as he smirks down at you, rubbing a hand over his face to calm himself for now.

You both come down from your highs with laboured breaths, and he pulls you to lie your head on the pillow. Logan wraps his arms around you, just cuddling you for a bit, when you realise something and smile up at him.

“So, are you that narcissistic that seeing me dressed up as you made you want to fuck me?” 

Logan smirks. “Nah, wanted to fuck you way before that. And I’m just honoured you like me enough to dress up as me.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal but he instead takes that opportunity to push his tongue back into your mouth as he holds the side of your face. You make out lazily for another few moments, slinging your leg over his hip, but then you drag his hand away from your face.

“Well, I’m honoured you like me enough to dress up for me.” 

“Baby, there’s a lot more I’d do for you than just dress up in a horror mask.”

“Really?” you smile. Logan nods earnestly. He holds you in his arms for a few minutes as you relax into the comfortable silence.

He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “Will you go out with me?”

You giggle then, “Don’t think you have to ask me anymore.”

“What? I wanna be a gentleman.”

“Yeah, very gentlemanly what you just did to me.”

You feel some of Logan’s cum drip out of your pussy and onto his thigh in that moment.

Logan looks at you and gives you a silly smile, lifting your leg off him to sit up, “Yeah, baby, I am a gentleman, and a gentleman cleans up after himself.”

He spreads your thighs as he gets between them, and licks up your pussy, coating his tongue in his own cum. You smile at his words but soon you begin to pout in pleasure as he starts going down on you again.

You sigh when he stops and moves up to your face, but you smile when you realise what he’s doing, happily parting your lips for him. Logan leans over you and spits his cum into your mouth, “We taste good together, hm?” he asks.

You swallow your combined arousals eagerly, closing your eyes as you savour the taste, but a gentle pat on your clit makes you open them again.

“You got another one in you, right, baby? Just one.” You nod quickly, unable to form words with you needily spread open for Logan like this. 

Lying back, you let Logan eat your pussy until you’re cumming again, your thighs pressing against his temples as he grabs at the flesh of your legs, licking your clit until you’re satisfied.

Logan lies back down next to you with his lips still shiny with your wetness, and you lean in for another kiss. He takes you in his arms to cuddle, when he asks you again.

“So, will you go on a date with me?”

“Only if it ends with you doing that thing with your mouth again,” you tease.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not going a day without it anymore.”

You giggle into his neck, relaxing against his muscular body.

Logan turns around when he gets a text, showing you his phone. It’s a message from Wade:

Everyone left and I’m about to give Vanessa a happy Halloweener if you know what I’m saying! So don’t come home tonight but I have a feeling you weren’t going to anyway ;)

Logan cringes while you laugh, ready to put his phone back when another message comes through.

And if you don’t treat her right I’ll cut off your Halloweener

Logan groans, switching off his phone. You laugh against his skin and let him hold you until you both sink into a warm, cozy sleep.

P.S. Logan thinks good girls reblog and comment on the fics they enjoy 🤭🙂‍↕️

[chelseeebe]

girls on film

18+. mdni! smut, so much smut. p in v, eddie is a munch! alcohol mentions. pornstar!eddie munson x reader. no use of y/n! modern au.

eddie munson makes porn. you make it. only, eddie doesn't much like the sounds of that.

a/n: happy valentines day my loves! spend some time with our favourite nerd eddie instead of a real man that'll only disappoint. i am so guilty of always giving eddie a breeding kink and then just never giving him any children oopsie hehe. i've been writing this on and off for months now, i already have a p2 and p3 the question is whether i'll finish them or not lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

when anyone asked, you’d tell people you were a set assistant. 

what they didn’t have to know was that you were a set assistant for pornstars. 

it wasn’t ever a dream of yours, nor something you’d have ever pictured yourself doing, but it paid the bills and hey, sometimes you met cool people through it too. 

today’s no different to any other, waiting for the talent to arrive as you prep the scene. it’s something ludicrous, metal guy meets friends innocent younger sister, something along those lines. 

you never really paid attention to much of that stuff, at some point it just became so much noise and frantic movement that the script never really mattered. 

he’s late. you’ve heard whispers of his nonchalance before. only hoping that you’d still get home on time. 

when the elusive man finally decides to bless you all with his presence, you’re taken back. not ever expecting the lanky guy that had shuffled through the door. all hair and denim. 

his charm makes up for his tardiness. flowing out of his mouth in droves, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the crew until he gets to you. 

“hey,” the man grins, pulling you in for a half-hug, “i’m eddie, super excited for today now that i’ve seen you.” 

you stare back in confusion, you’d be running towels and telling lighting what to do, why would he ever be excited about that? 

“anything you’re not comfortable with?” he asks, squeezing your arm gently. 

“oh.. what? i’m not- sorry, i just work on set,” shrinking into yourself although flattered that he’d thought you were starring opposite him. 

“oh,” sounding almost disappointed, “that’s a real shame,” the thick smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke wafting towards you. 

your cheeks burn, averting your gaze to the ground, finding solace away from his heavy stare. 

“who is the lucky lady?” eyes gliding around the women in the room, choosing to once again settle on you. 

“she’s.. um, she’s getting ready,” gesturing towards the small dressing area you had. 

you were never this bumbling, a thousand handsome men had stood before you and had never, ever had this impact upon you. 

“cool.. okay,” he nods, “where d’you need me?” his leather jacket tightening around his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“over here,” gesturing vaguely at the empty makeup chair, losing any and all composure when he pats your arm on the way past. 

christ. 

you needed to get a grip and get it fast. 

-

a lick of fresh air would help pull you from this disgustingly down bad headspace he’d plunged you into. 

or not. 

eddie’s hand curls around your arm just before you reach the door, “i’ll join ya,” cigarette already poised in between his lips. 

you can only nod, stepping out into the cool air though it does nothing for your flushed cheeks, edging away despite his efforts to keep close. 

you’re a little intimidated by his hardiness and hardness. struggling to keep your eyes above the waistband. 

“you ever thought about doing this?” he asks, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“not really.” 

“that’s a shame,” he smirks, “i think we’d make something beautiful,” keeping his gaze steady on your flustered face. 

“stop it,” brushing him off coyly, he didn’t have to be so sickly sweet, his smirk had clearly already worked its magic on you. 

“you don’t agree?” eddie’s eyebrow raises, taking a slow, drawn-out toke of his cigarette.

you shake your head, “there’s a reason i’m behind the camera and not in front of it,” staring out at the bleak, grey parking lot. 

“well i think we should change that,” stepping in front of you, leaving you no room to not look at him, “i’m in town for the week, i’d love to see you again.” 

this didn’t happen to you, ever. the girls you worked with were otherworldly in terms of their beauty, no one ever really paid you any attention at all. 

eddie can sense your hesitation, assuming that he’d scared you away already, “look, take my number. you don’t have to call but i’d like you to,” slipping his cell from his pocket. 

you nod almost on your own, retrieving your own phone to hand off to him. he’s slick in the way he taps the number in, cigarette balanced on his lip as his eyes flicker between phone screens. 

“there ya go,” placing your phone back in your clammy palm, “do what you want with it, i go back to chicago on thursday,” making it clear that whatever this may be, would be temporary. 

“o-okay,” nodding quickly, there was a high likelihood that his number just sat there for the rest of eternity, never to be used or clicked on again. 

you don’t take eddie as the type of guy to pressure you, in fact, he seems quite the opposite. so much so that if you don’t take him up on his offer, you’ll never hear from him again. 

it’s truly an offer you really shouldn’t refuse, but yet you’re hesitant to even accept his advances. mixing work and pleasure like this, especially with someone like eddie, could only end one way. 

“i better get back in, y’ready?” holding the door open, a real gentleman, making you flustered of the most common of decencies. 

you were fucked. 

-

it’s hellish watching him perform. 

not just seeing everything his tight jeans had hidden away but also the way he truly cared about his partner. 

all the gentle touches to her face, cradling her body while completely disrespecting it too. globs of spit leaving his mouth to coat her cunt, making your thighs press together with indescribable want. 

he glances back between takes, making sure to catch your eye every single time. running his tongue over his bottom lip, knocking the air from your lungs without fail. 

you’d bore witness to many overdramatic, frankly fake orgasms in your years on set. very rarely did anything ever make you feel quite like you did today. screaming jealousy at her disappearing eyes, the way his lips brush against her ear, guiding her through her second orgasm of the session. 

it’s not loud, or irritating, just soft mewls accompanied by his soothing voice, making sure you were soaking right through your jeans. 

when eddie cums, his lips fall apart, head thrown back as his hips stutter, using her back as a canvas, jaw gritted together. 

“that was great!” tom yells, your makeshift director. ushering for you to hurry up with the towels and cold water. your fingers trembling as they brush against eddie’s. 

he offers a sweet thank you, quickly slipping back into his robe as you try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. 

you’re ridiculous, a giggly teenage girl more than a grown woman who watches people fuck for a living. this had solidified your position on ever calling him, and simply put, you couldn’t. 

in fact, you’re not certain you can even speak his name again, destined to live a life of perpetual wondering about what could have been. 

-

one glass of wine seemed to have been all it took to get eddie fucking munson back into your head. 

you’d done so well so far, managing to push the disgraceful thoughts way, way to the back of your mind, only for one measly glass of sauvignon blanc to destroy all of your progress. 

it’s not like you were actually going to call him, just toying with the idea, hovering over the button. a little foreplay, if you will. 

maybe you should. 

if one glass of wine was enough to have you already breaking the promise you’d made to yourself, who’s to say what years and years of unknowing would do? 

eddie was interested first, he came onto you first. there’s no doubt he’d be as eager as you were, but you still can’t help the niggling sounds of apprehension. 

the tone is dialling before you can second guess yourself and end it, fingers trembling around your phone, as if it were a ticking time bomb awaiting detonation. 

it rings a couple times before it clicks, connecting the call, “hello?” his voice echoes, thick and as intoxicating as the first time you heard it. 

your lips move yet produce no sound. reluctantly hoping he’ll think it’s a prank call and block the number. 

“eddie,” the first word to form on your tongue, potentially the worst thing you could’ve said. 

“it’s you,” his smile evident, even through the phone, “i was hopin’ you’d call,” you can hear the hustle and bustle of the restaurant now, he mumbles something to a passing waiter about the bill and now suddenly you feel immensely guilty about calling him on a saturday night.

“i’m sorry- am i interrupting something?”

“not at all,” and you can hear him smile all over again.

but what you don’t see is him glancing over at the busty redhead still at the table, waving back at her innocuous wiggle of the fingers. 

“what’re you doing tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“nothing really.. i mean, if you’re not busy, maybe you could.. or we could do something?” wanting to die the second the words leave your lips. 

“that sounds good to me,” his audible grin unwavering, “how ‘bout i come over?” 

you freeze, looking around at the mess surrounding you, piles of paperwork and clothes litter the floor, resembling somewhat of a dumpster rather than an apartment. 

“..you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” answering his own question. 

“-no!” interjecting before he could change his mind entirely, “you should come over,” turning into a desperate little slut before he’d ever even touched you. 

eddie pauses, his feet shuffling in the background, “okay,” voice intoxicatingly thick, “give me thirty minutes and i’m all yours.” 

all yours. 

christ. 

you can feel your knees buckle, turning into putty in his hands. 

“o-okay, i’ll send you the address,” ending the call before you fumble this any further. 

immediately springing up from the mattress, deciding that the one and only time you’re going to mix work and pleasure must be perfect. you work on grabbing piles of clothes, shoving them back into the closet they belonged in. 

eddie wouldn’t care, would he? 

perhaps keeping stuff to the living room would be better, the tiny couch would make do. 

-

thirty minutes practically on the dot, there’s a knock on the door. 

oh god oh god oh god. 

this was a mistake. 

you should shut off all the lights and just pretend you’re not home. 

don’t be so silly. 

cursing the self-sabotaging thoughts, damned to make you second guess every single thing about yourself. 

your head peaks around the open gap, eyes falling on his chest to rise up and meet his daunting eyes. there’s a bottle of wine tucked beneath his arm, the half bottle you’d downed beforehand completely unbeknownst to him. 

eddie blinks, his lips cocked to the side, “well hello,” dressed far too nicely for a drunken booty call at your apartment. 

“hi,” utterly meek and pathetic, swooning over his suave greeting. 

“you look good,” gaze trailing down to your bare legs. you hadn’t expected him to be so put together, now regretting your choice of what was essentially just pyjamas. 

“tha-thank you,” pulling the door open wider, “come in, please,” stepping back to let him inside. 

the air thickens immediately, your clothes suddenly too tight and your palms clammy. if you ever wanted eddie to stay interested in you, you’d have to get ahold of yourself quick. 

“nice,” he saunters around the room, looking at your pictures and the other piles of accumulated artefacts ok your shelves. settling just before the couch to turn and smile. “you live alone?” 

you nod automatically, the air sucked from your lungs at the sheer sight of him in your apartment. it felt like some strange crossover dream that really should’ve stayed unexplored. 

“that’s good to know,” helping himself into the kitchen, opening cabinets to presumably find two wine glasses. 

you brush off his comments, it was no secret as to what he was here for. “top left,” arm brushing against his as you make your way into the small space. 

musk and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke waft your direction, decidedly not turning to sniff his jacket like you so wished you could. 

“care to join me?” offering the bottle out in your direction. 

if you were even just an inch braver, you’d create some witty come back, some utterly irresistible flirty banter that’d surely have him crawling on his knees for you. 

but you aren’t, so instead you nod, hoping you won’t resemble such a wallflower all night. 

-

“can’t believe a pretty girl like you was gonna spend a saturday night all alone,” eddie gushes, a quarter of his wine sipped away. 

it’s incredibly hard to remain stoic when his eyes are crescent-moons, lashes cascading shadows over his cheeks and his tongue periodically wets his plump bottom lip. a routine he's no doubt mastered the art of by now.

“i’m always..” gesturing into thin air, unfortunately aware that whatever came out of your mouth next would make you look like a pathetic loser, “i mean, i go out sometimes..” making matters worse tenfold. 

“really?” 

why’d you open your mouth? 

“no.. i work a lot so..” clearing your throat in a bid to make him forget you’d ever spoken. “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything..” shrugging softly, though you’d already known you had done. 

“i was out for dinner.. nothing important,” brushing you off, “she wasn’t exactly.. uh, great company,” laughing into his glass of red. 

the cogs turn, sudden realisation that you had interrupted a date. and he’d let you. 

“you were on a date,” cringing at yourself, frustratedly embarrassed for no good reason, “i’m sorry- fuck, you should’ve said,” wanting to die a thousand deaths. 

he looks utterly perplexed, “if i wanted to be there, i’d be there, alright?” patting your thigh, the first of his daring moves, “i wanted to see you,” thumb circling the soft skin. 

already making you melt half an hour in. you were toast. there’s positively no way you’ll make it out of here with your dignity in tact. 

“..okay,” bashfully nodding along to his heavy words, seldom to back down so easily. there’s just something about eddie munson and his doe eyes that turns you into a submissive mess. 

his hand doesn’t move from your knee, tracing circles around the bone, “you’re so beautiful and you don’t even know it, do you?” trying his hardest to meet your averted gaze. 

fuck. 

your cheeks burn, pussy already throbbing and he had scarcely touched you yet. how was it possible for him to be so sweet? his words thick like molasses, dripping, leaving their mark all over you. 

“i’m just..” what has gotten into you? this was pathetic. “you’re very kind eddie,” smiling gently, as if his words hadn’t sent you into cardiac arrest. 

he hums, a deep noise from the bottom of his chest, “say my name again sweetheart,” purring, toying with coming closer, “i like it better when you say it.” 

you’d scream it if he wanted you to. let all your neighbours know who was making you act like such a fool. 

“you don’t have to sweet talk me.. you’re already sat on my couch,” finding the last lingering ebbing of confidence to bite back. 

eddie laughs, deep and rumbling, “but i like seeing you squirm.”

oh god. 

had he trained in this? he’s so quick witted, bouncing off of whatever you say immediately. 

“you’re so..” trailing off into silence as you meet his heavyset gaze, intimidated and fazed all at once. 

“so.. what, sweetheart?” cocking his head to the side, alongside his lips. 

you hate him. 

his overwhelming confidence, his gaze that has your heartbeat in your throat and your fingers clawing at your thigh. there was something so intimidating and yet oddly charming about his presence.

“so annoying,” biting back, only really annoyed that he had successfully woo’d you. and without much effort at all.

eddie looks vaguely hurt for a moment, only for his grin to spring right back onto his face, “i don’t think you mean that,” sucking on the backs of his teeth. 

you’d been caught out immediately, bowing your head to hide the inevitable flush. 

just fucking do it. 

the same nagging voice that had made you call him in the first place starts up again, louder this time. if his brazen flirting wasn’t enough to get you to make a move, what would be? 

choosing to grasp the moment as it is, refusing to allow him any more power over you for tonight.  

you charge forward, chest bashing into his equally as heaving chest, attempting to straddle his thighs until you’re stopped by his large palm groping your thigh. 

he breaks apart, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek, “it’s real sweet that you think you’re in charge,” quickly taking your wrists into his grasp, pushing against your pouncing stance to press your back against the couch instead. 

you let him, sinking into the cushions as he moves atop of you, hands skilfully skirting over your hips, tugging at your loose-fitting shorts. 

“oh darlin’, i’ve been waitin’ for this,” running his hands back up your doughy thighs, squeezing the pliant flesh on their way. 

you just about melt under the pressure of his sweet talk, allowing him the power to manoeuvre your body any which way he wanted. there’s a soft thunk as your sweatpants hit the floor, his hand spreading your legs to give him full view of your sodden panties. 

you’re not sure you’ve ever been as wet as you are now, positively drenched just by the feel of fingertips against your skin. 

eddie hums, large hands skirting your thighs, a soft squeeze to the doughy skin, “i really thought you’d never call,” slowly sinking down, leaving a trail of peppered kisses on his way, the tank top you’d slung on gives him perfect view of your hardened nipples, tugging the fabric until your tits fall out. 

“wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” continuing on, making you squirm with every lick of his lips, every last syrupy sweet word. 

his lips attach to the overly sensitive skin as his free hand palms the other, tongue twisting around the bud forcing the pathetic whimper from your throat. 

you can feel him smile against your chest, mouth popping off just to lock around the other, continuing his descent down between your legs. 

he pries your thighs apart, looking up at your skittish eyes, jumping from object to object as the pressure in your clit worsens. 

his lips startle you, warm and wet on the pliant skin, sucking and nibbling until he reaches the hem of your shorts. “you dressed up f’me,” hooking his fingers into the waistband, a short tap on your hip has them jumping up to help him. 

eddie glides them down your legs, holding onto your ankle as the fabric hits the ground. his pretty pink lips curve upward before pecking the soft cotton clothing your cunt. he’s a genius, a master of his craft. you’re not at all shocked that women were lining up to have their turn. 

you quiver when he pulls away, thighs pressed together in a bid to satiate the ache left in his wake. 

his thumb traces your clothed slit, pressing into your hole just to come right back up and circle your clit. it’s almost as if you can feel your brain chemistry changing with every single touch, destined to haunt every other encounter you’d have after this. 

no one had nor would ever touch your body with such sincerity and care again. it just wasn’t possible. 

arousal seeps out, turning the gray coloured cotton darker, literally dripping with want for him. 

your hands come up to hide your warm face, covering your eyes, mostly as an excuse to cut the weighted eye contact he hadn’t once broken. 

but his hands are fast, faster than yours. coming to pull yours right back down again, scolding you for even trying it. “don’t do that.. please don’t do that.”

you nod, vowing to do nothing to piss him off again. eddie’s a professional at best, a whore at worst. he knows what’ll get you whirring, knows where to lay his fingers and in what tone to whisper his words. 

sickening. 

he smirks, one-sided, “i like that you don’t fight it,” trusting you enough to let go of your wrists, delving back between your plush thighs. 

words fail to form, overcome with such horniness that you can’t think straight. 

enough of the games, you want to bellow. 

touch me touch me touch me. 

you’re aching, clenching around nothing. the hollow emptiness driving you further and further into craziness. 

“can we..” sighing softly, losing your train of thought as quickly as it came, “i need you,” digging your nails into the poor couch. this cruel and twisted routine had to stop. 

“nuhuh,” eddie huffs, his warm breath splaying across your cunt, “i’m takin’ my sweet time with you,” using his middle and forefinger this time to dance tauntingly over your pussy, grinning manically to himself. 

“but-,” cut off when his fingers curl around your panties, the cool, harsh air hitting your cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“wow,” he marvels, looking lovesick at your slick folds, “she’s so pretty,” in awe of the sight before him. 

your self-consciousness had faded, losing to your disgustingly eager lust. he could do whatever, however he wanted to you. he just needed to do it quickly. 

his tongue peaks out over his lips, preparing for his feast, “you’ve been so patient,” stubble brushing against the inside of your sensitive thigh, “i think you deserve this.” 

with that, your panties come down, he doesn’t even need you to move, expertly manoeuvring them from your skin. he cradles the damp fabric between his fingers for a moment before sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

you can’t protest, you don’t even want to. he was welcome to take whatever he wanted or needed. 

eddie wraps a hand around your calf, resting it upon his shoulder, repeating the motion as your feet settle on his upper back. his palm finds your thigh next, looping his arms around for leverage. 

he hums with pure sick, adulterated satisfaction, one last glance at your glistening cunt before meeting your gaze. “keep your eyes on me sweetheart,�� kissing lazily at the skin, antagonistically slow to make his way up. 

your fingers lay on the couch, scared for what you can and can’t do. 

his tongue meets your folds, pulling you out of your worry and into the real world. fuck whatever his rules were, you needed to touch him. weaving frantic fingers through the curls on top of his head, receiving an encouraging hum of approval, his throat vibrating against your cunt. 

“oh my.. fuck,” panting into the abyss, unable to stop your hips from moving against his face. you’d fuck his face and any other time, he’d let you, but that wasn’t the plan. 

he clamps down on your wriggling hips, keeping them pressed to the couch, refusing to allow you any control over the situation. 

eddie’s lips attach to your poorly neglected clit, sucking gently at the bud, forcing the not-so-quiet moans out of your throat, fingers curling around the strands just to tug on them with every flick of his tongue. 

the knot in your stomach is tight already, threatening to snap at any moment. especially trying when the tip of nose nudges at your clit, sitting right on top while his tongue makes you see stars, circling around your hole and right back up between your folds. 

you’ve never been this wet in your life, arousal dripping from his chin to your ass and thighs. when he pulls away just briefly, his puffy lips gleam in the dim light of your apartment. it’s only momentary though, quickly diving back in to pull you over the edge. 

his tongue swipes thick stripes over your cunt, aching for something him to just fill you up. “shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth. your eyes struggle to stay open, he’d forgive you, right? it was no fault of yours that his tongue felt too good, drawing you to the edge just to rip it from under you. 

lolling your head back against the arm of the couch, no longer able to abide by his arbitrary rules. your thighs were trembling, fingertips entangled in his locks, nothing except your impending orgasm mattered. 

eddie voices his displeasure through a low grumble, only twisting the knot further as his tongue laps at your pussy. a ravenous dog of sorts, refusing to let up until you came on his tongue. 

“fu-uck eddie- i can’t.. i’m gonna cum,” vibrating against his ears, feeling his smile against your core. a sick, perverted man that had you exactly where he wanted. 

the band snaps, throwing you over the edge with a twist of the stomach, shaking legs that struggle to stay perched on his shoulders and a verse of soft pleas and eddie’s that resemble a hymn. 

“.. jesu- shit,” shuddering breaths and mewls that fill the room, letting him lap away at your spent cunt. your limbs mimic jelly, letting go of your hold on his hair to clasp his face. 

eddie re-emerges, licking his lips like a cat that got the cream. self-satisfied and completely smug. 

coming up to rest his chin on your heaving stomach with inquisitive eyes, his rough stubble catching on your tired skin, “worth the wait?” as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

you nod, rather enthusiastically, “definitely worth it,” playing with the tufts of hair that make up his choppy bangs. 

“good,” biting down onto his bottom lip just to pull himself back up, “but i’m not done with you yet,” prying your legs open once more before peeling his shirt from his body, a sight you’ve seen and yet can’t behold. 

eddie presses his already stiff cock to your cunt, toying with his prey. there’s nothing left in you to fight it, laying back on the couch with a soft sigh. 

no man would ever live up to this, you were now cursed to an unsatisfactory life with whomever you settled for. 

his pants come off next, your eyes falling to the outline of his length immediately. eyeing the tiny dark patch and certainly not thinking about him cumming in his pants while eating your pussy. 

you’ve seen his cock, and yet, your lips still fall open when he tucks his boxers underneath his balls, fisting his throbbing piece while you go googly-eyed. 

“shit,” he remarks, one hand on your knee while the other glides his leaking tip through your slick folds. “no one’s ever been this wet f’me before,” practically purring, his tone thick and full of an animalistic need you had thought was only reserved for porn. 

the pleasure rumbles around your nervous system, only to land in your stomach, squeezing the already-snapped muscle once again. 

eddie’s hand slides from your knee, up to your thigh, giving your hip a well-meaning pinch before settling beside your head on the couch. your bodies melding into one as he comes down to meet you. 

his cock nestles in between once more, slipping inside with a harsh gasp and a visceral grunt. you settle for a grip of his taut shoulders, fingers curling around the muscles and smudgy black tattoos. 

this time, eddie buries his face into your neck, suckling at the soft skin, daring to leave his mark when his teeth come out to graze. you hope they last forever, marked by him for eternity. 

the sensation is all too much, struggling to stay afloat once more, pushed further and further to edge when his tongue swipes over the violet markings that littered your collarbone. 

“holy fuck princess,” he grumbles, partially muffled, “y’gonna cum again already?” breathing heavy and stuttered, struggling with his own premature orgasm. 

words don’t appear, and honestly, at this point they didn’t mean a thing. 

instead, you nod, squeezing his shoulder in a bid to communicate. you unravel all over again, drawn out moans that get cut off by his lips, thighs shaking around his midriff. 

eddie was drinking it all in, intercepting the sweet noises from your mouth with his own, rolling his hips at a more subdued pace as you cum again. 

you were spent, utterly exhausted though he doesn’t let up. once you’re over this climax, his rhythm finds pace again. soft palm caressing your cheek while his lips attach to your jaw bone, planting a hundred quick kisses along up to your ear. 

with one knee dug into the couch, the other leg holding him up from the floor, it couldn’t be very comfortable for him like this. your pleasure was first and foremost his priority, a real man. 

he grunts, driving into your cunt with little consideration for the creaky old couch or your neighbours just trying to enjoy their saturday evening. 

“oh god eddie,” you cry. tugging at his scalp, pathetically rutting back against his hips begging for your third? fourth? orgasm to take over. 

his carefully groomed pubes catch your clit, dampened by the sheer amount of your arousal. 

you were just about ready to sleep for forty days and forty nights, both exhausted and overstimulated by his cock, the weight of his body on top of you and smooth words flowing from his mouth. 

“one more sweetheart,” speaking between rugged grunts, panting with every sloppy stroke, “gimme one more,” he coos, hand sliding down to find your clit for the last time. 

his cock twitches inside when you buck back against him, fingernails leaving harsh strips on his back, leaving your mark for the next girl. 

“shitshitshit,” you rush, coming completely undone again, trembling around his cock, babbling what must sound like pure nonsense to eddie. no doubt letting all of your deepest secrets loose in your third moment of weakness.

“mhm that’s it,” letting his cock slide all the way out, just to reach the hilt over and over again. “inside?” was all he needed to huff for you to get the message, too incoherent to ask any further questions. 

“ye-yes please,” not quite understanding the weight of your words until they leave your mouth. a problem for tomorrow. 

with that, eddie topples over, his orgasm rippling through his limbs and his cock pumping thick ropes of his release inside your exhausted pussy. your cries intertwining in the hot air to create a chorus line of pleasure. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he heaves, collapsing in a fit of exhaustion. a sticky pile of limbs that starts with you and ends somewhere with eddie. 

everything feels surreal, the light is gleaming and you sort of feel as if you’re floating, watching him pepper your skin with quick kisses and slot himself comfortably on the cramped couch. 

eddie cradles your body, fixing your top to give you back the tiniest bit of dignity you had left. 

he hums, contemplating something, “‘m glad you called,” swooning, “i don’t know what i’d have done if you hadn’t,” positioning himself underneath your body, a strong arm coming to wrap around your shaking shoulder. 

“you would’ve just had to live without me,” chuckling into the sweaty skin of his chest, embracing the lingering arrogance. 

eddie hums before shaking his head, “nuhuh, we would’ve met again somehow,” running his finger up and down the length of your arm. 

“oh, you think?”

“no, i know,” oozing with confidence. you simply can’t hate it because he’s right. 

there’s no instance that your soul would’ve let you rest until this had happened.

[axkirak]

Old Dog

(𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Silco x f!reader

Fandom : Arcane (TV Series)

Content waring : 18+ smut/nsfw, huge age gap(reader is 20 and Silco is around 44-45), a bit of manipulate, a lot of teasing, fingering, p in v, dub-con, drunk sex, also save sex (Educated women are smart. So use condoms and don’t go raw.)

tags : porn with plot, It's set after season 1 but before season 2, reader’s lowkey like Viktor (didn’t mean to, just noticed after I finished it lol), canon compliant, heartbroken reader, drunkenness, a lot of smoking, sexual tension, flirting, hook up, one night stands (english isn't my first language)

Summary: You’re a Zaunite who got a scholarship to University of Piltover. You wanted to escape this messed-up city for a better life, but Piltover wasn’t what you expected. You got looked down on and a Piltovan guy broke your heart

So you went back home, crying and drinking alone at The Last Drop, before a random middle-aged stranger showed up and everything changed

A/N : I’m kinda late to the party (just finished Arcane). I meant to write a short Silco fic, but it ended up being 7k smut instead lol. I got inspired by ROSÉ’s song Messy when writing this fic. Gotta give her some credit for it.

I’m also thinking of doing a longfic for him (Peaky Blinders AU). No idea if anyone’s into it, so lmk and I’ll start.

Everyone knows Zaun is beyond saving.

The air is toxic, the water contaminated, and crime runs rampant. Drug outbreaks are common, and junkies linger in alleyways. Danger hides around every corner in this city, which is rotting from the inside out, waiting for the day it collapses.

The only question is whether you'll collapse with it or find a way out.

Of course, you chose the second option.

Not many people from Zaun are fortunate enough to rise above and make their way to the Upper City, and you happen to be one of the fortunate few. It wasn’t luck that brought you here. It was your sharp intellect and your relentless hunger for knowledge that pushed you far beyond what anyone had expected. You clawed your way out of the depths of Zaun and earned a place as a promising scholarship student at the prestigious University of Piltover, a place most Zaunites could only dream of.

After your mother passed away from lung cancer(caused by the toxic air in Zaun), you had no reason to stay in that godforsaken city. Once your scholarship was secured, you left Zaun for good. You moved to Piltover and began dreaming of a life of comfort and luxury like the Topsiders. You were convinced your future would be bright.

You pictured yourself graduating with top honors, inventing something groundbreaking that would stun the world. Maybe, just maybe, you'd catch the eye of a wealthy patron willing to fund your work and change your life forever. You imagined recognition, success, and a life far removed from the misery you'd left behind.

But reality rarely follows the script of your dreams.

During your time in Piltover, you painfully realized that you would never truly belong to this society. The other students kept their distance, quietly judging you for being from Zaun. Every time you ranked first in exams, their resentment only grew stronger.

There was no direct bullying, but most chose to ignore you. Their silence made it clear that you weren’t accepted. A few spoke to you like a normal person, yet even they remained distant. None of them ever felt like a real friend to you.

The dreams you had once painted began to crack and slowly crumble. You felt empty, melancholic, and drained in the midst of this large, bustling city, the very city you had once believed to be the city of your dreams, only to realize it was more of a nightmare.

But you knew you couldn’t turn back, so you had no choice but to keep pushing forward at the university where you constantly felt like an outsider. You tried everything you could to gain even a small sense of belonging. You made yourself more approachable, reached out to others, and even downloaded a dating app just to have someone to talk to.

And it worked.

You met a guy who was a fellow classmate. He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he wasn’t unattractive either. He seemed kind and easy to talk to, so you decided to give it a shot. You started seeing each other, going on what passed for dates, usually study sessions in the library or working on assignments together, with you often helping by doing most of his work (since your boyfriend wasn’t as good at studying as you were)

It was one of the happiest times in your life, a kind of happiness that blossoms in the heart of a young girl experiencing love for the very first time. The relationship between you two flourished for months, growing steadily and sweetly, until it abruptly ended right after the final exams. He left you with a single parting sentence:

"To be honest, I never really liked you like that. I just saw you were smart and thought you could help me study, that’s all."

In the end, everything you had shared with him, including every tender moment and every deep connection, was nothing more than a convenient lie, a calculated act of using you.

That heartbreak became your final breaking point.

You cried for days, sobbing as if your chest would burst open, the pain so sharp and consuming that you couldn’t bear to stay in this city of illusions any longer. It was that grief that pushed you to make the most reckless decision of your life: returning to Zaun.

You knew perfectly well that Zaun was no place to live. But you didn’t know any other city as well as you knew Zaun. For all its faults, for all the darkness and danger it held, it was still your birthplace. Your childhood memories were rooted in its alleyways and smog. You hated that city just as fiercely as you loved it. And so, it became the only place that felt right to retreat to while you nursed your broken heart.

Still, you never imagined just how much it had changed while you were gone. It had changed so much that you could hardly recognize it anymore.

It was dirtier than before, filled with more criminals than before, and even more chaotic than you remembered.

What the hell is going on here?

That question lingers in your mind as you sit at the bar counter of The Last Drop, a once-renowned nightlife spot that had been the safest and most peaceful place to gather in the entire city. Back then, it was under the watchful eye of Vander, a burly, kind-hearted man who served as both bartender and owner of the place long before you were even born.

But Vander isn't here anymore. He's been replaced by a tall, tan-skinned young man with a scowling face who now tends the bar, swearing at customers every other sentence. He looks more like a thug than a bartender. The patrons aren’t any better either. Rough-faced types with tattoos crawling over their bodies, dressed in garish outfits and loud hairstyles, dance wildly to the deafening EDM pounding from the speakers. Those who aren’t dancing are either slamming down shots until they can’t sit upright or openly doing drugs without a care. The air reeks of illegal booze, smoke, and sharp, acrid sweat that turns your stomach.

You let out a long, weary sigh. All you wanted tonight was a quiet drink to drown your post-breakup blues. But in this place, it’s impossible to feel anything even close to melancholy. And you can’t exactly go somewhere else with a better atmosphere either, because The Last Drop is the only bar in all of Zaun. So here you are, forcing down whiskey straight with a lump in your throat, surrounded by EDM basslines that shake you from  your head to your toes.

Fucking hell. What a vibe. (Not.)

But even that isn’t the worst part of the night.

The worst part begins when he walks into the bar.

You can feel the weight in the air shift the moment he steps inside, as if the entire world holds its breath. The music keeps playing, but not a single soul dares to dance. Every head turns toward him. Yours included.

He looks like a man in his forties, tall and wiry, with short, neatly styled black hair streaked with grey. His skin is pale, almost ashen. But what truly catches your eye is his outfit—luxurious, far beyond anything typical in Zaun. He wears a deep burgundy shirt beneath a black waistcoat trimmed with gold, an ensemble you instantly recognize as the signature style of Piltover's elites.

How strange, you think. You’ve never seen a Zaunite dressed like a Topsider before, not just because Piltover is wealthier, but because of the long, bitter history between the two cities. The people above look down on those below, and the ones below resent those above. The hatred runs deep. You know it all too well.

Yet more striking than his clothes or the unsettling air he carries is the ruined side of his face. The entire left half bears the remnants of a violent past, disfigured and scarred in a way no makeup could ever fully conceal. He tries, clearly, but the damage remains visible.

And then there’s his left eye: unnaturally large, dark like polished marble, with an iris that glows faintly orange. It looks just as broken as the skin surrounding it. In contrast, the right eye is perfectly intact, a piercing, vivid blue. It might even be beautiful if his presence weren’t so terrifying.

You don’t know who this man is, but you’re certain of one thing. He’s not just some random local. That much is clear from the way everyone reacts. Even the foul-mouthed bartender straightens up and falls silent the moment he walks in. Everyone seems oddly deferential to this new arrival. And when he lifts a gloved hand and gives a small, casual wave, a silent signal for the others to stop staring, the room hesitantly returns to its earlier rhythm.

Or at least pretends to. Because you can still feel the tension humming beneath the surface.

If this were any other time, you’d probably be just as nervous and intimidated as everyone else. But right now, you’re three shots deep into cheap whiskey, drifting somewhere between tipsy and numb.

You glance at the man for only a moment, then shrug indifferently and turn back to your glass. The sharp burn of alcohol keeps sliding down your throat, dulling your thoughts and making the ache in your chest just a little easier to bear.

You sip absently, lost in your own sorrow. The noise around you fades into the background; none of it matters. Right now, the only thing that holds any meaning is the glass in front of you.

You don’t even realize you’ve caught the man’s attention.

And that’s when you meet him. For the very first time.

Silco—he introduces himself with that name, after striding up and taking the seat beside you without asking, like he owns the place. His gloved hand reaches out in greeting as he casually asks, “You’re not from around here, are you, Kid?”

You turn to look at him, suddenly aware of how sharp and unrelenting his gaze is. His right eye, vivid and piercing blue, seems to look straight through you. The left, darker and unnatural, makes your skin crawl.

You ignore his outstretched hand, choosing rudeness over risk. Even in your drunken state, you're still sober enough to stay cautious, especially around someone like him. “Why do you ask?” you reply, your voice steady but tinged with suspicion.

Silco smirks, clearly amused by your guarded reaction. He lowers his hand, then pulls a cigar from his coat, places it between his lips, and lights it with a golden lighter. He takes a slow drag, blowing smoke into the air without taking his eyes off you. His mismatched gaze drifts from your face down to your shoes and back again, studying every detail. Then he finally answers, though it sounds more like a critique than a response.

“Everything about you screams out of place. Neat. Clean. Untouched.” That last word comes out softer, almost whispered, and it sends a chill down your spine. “Like one of those Pilties.”

The way he says the word 'Pilties' drips with open contempt, his disdain for people from Piltover crystal clear.

That’s when you start to understand why he approached you.

He’s just as suspicious of you as you are of him.

“I’m a Zaunite, same as everyone else,” you explain quickly before he gets the wrong idea. “I got a scholarship to study at the University of Piltover, so I had to move up there. But today’s the first time I’ve been back.”

He raises an eyebrow, visibly surprised. Then his smirk deepens.

“Well then, welcome home,” he says, his tone far too friendly to be genuine. “So, how does it feel to be back where you came from?”

You can tell he’s only teasing, but the question lingers. Ever since you set foot here, you’ve been struck by how much everything has changed.

“It’s different,” you admit, grimacing as you take another sip. “Not in a good way. The whole place is crawling with junkies and thugs now. Even in here.” You gesture around The Last Drop, a bar that once had a reputation for safety, but clearly no longer. “What happened to Vander? He owns this place. Why’d he let it fall apart like this?”

The moment Vander’s name leaves your lips, Silco’s expression shifts. His gaze darkens, and his jaw tightens for just a second before his mask returns.

“You knew Vander?” he asks, pausing to savor the smoke curling around his lips. There’s a flicker of something stormy in his eyes. “Well... things have changed. Vander doesn’t run this place anymore, sweetheart. This city’s entered a new era. My era. And it’d be best if you didn’t go digging up the past.”

He speaks with a calm voice and lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s a sharp edge in his words that makes you pause. A flicker of suspicion rises in you, but you choose not to press further.

“So... you're the new owner of The Last Drop?” you ask, piecing it together from what he said. It catches you off guard. Silco certainly looks like someone with money, but it never crossed your mind that he might own this place.

He chuckles and shakes his head, clearly amused by your naïveté. Tapping the ash of his cigar into a glass ashtray on the counter, he says, “Of course not just this place. I own the whole city.” The smugness in his voice makes you want to roll your eyes.

Then he snaps his fingers, signaling the scowling bartender to come over. “Get another glass of whiskey for my new friend. And keep it coming. This one’s on me.”

Silco turns back to you, his thin lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile. His gaze sweeps across your face, now flushed from the alcohol and cheeks still stained with tears.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Tell me, why is a pretty girl like you sitting here crying her heart out, instead of being out there, having fun like everyone else?”

You narrow your eyes, starting to get a read on him. “Are you trying to hit on me?” you blurt out, incredulous. “’Cause if you are, it’s not working. You’re old enough to be my dad.” The alcohol in your system lends your voice a certain boldness. You wave him off without an ounce of courtesy, owner or not. “Just leave me alone, will you?”

Silco pauses. For a moment, his face hardens. Then a quiet laugh escapes, deep and dry. He leans forward, propping one elbow on the counter, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers. His eyes stay fixed on you, sharp and unsettling, like he’s trying to read your soul.

“Hitting on you? Not quite,” he says smoothly. “I just can’t stand seeing a beautiful girl sitting here crying. I’ve always had a soft spot for tears, you see.” He takes another drag of his cigar, slow and deliberate. “Besides, a girl like you really shouldn’t be drinking alone in a place like this. It’s not safe. There are dangerous men here. They wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of a vulnerable young woman. You’re lucky I found you first.”

He pauses again, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips, then shifts even closer, close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours.

“As for the age thing... it’s just a number, sweetheart. And with age comes experience. That should be a plus, shouldn’t it?”

His long fingers trail along your jawline with a casual air, teasing as if to provoke a stray cat. When you jerk your face away in obvious displeasure, it only seems to amuse him even more. Something about your defiance reminds him of a feline’s untamed grace.

“Hey! Don’t touch me without permission.”

Silco raises both hands in mock surrender, chuckling softly as he shakes his head with what almost looks like affection. There’s no trace of anger at your blunt rejection, even though he's not the kind of man who typically tolerates disrespect, especially not in his own territory.

But you, it seems, are an exception. Perhaps it’s because you clearly have no idea who he is, and that, to him, is strangely refreshing. Most people in Zaun wouldn’t dare come within five meters of him, let alone talk back like you do.

"My bad, sweetheart. Just old habits from old dogs, you know." His apology doesn’t carry a hint of sincerity. “Now, why don’t you tell Uncle Silco what’s really bothering you? Maybe this old man can help.”

He continues to coax you, maintaining the facade of a kind-hearted stranger, trying to appear like someone you can lean on.

But the truth is, everything about him contradicts the idea of kindness. Everyone in Zaun knows that all too well.

You’re probably the only one who doesn’t realize yet.

That Silco is the one—the most powerful crime lord who controls the vast underworld of the city

You let out a long sigh, already knowing he isn't going to leave you alone like you asked. Sure, he’s a pain, but deep down, you can’t lie to yourself. You need someone to talk to. Someone to pour it all out to before it explodes inside and drives you mad.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s just frustration. Whatever it is, it makes you spill everything to him without holding back. The words tumble out of you like a stream, an unfiltered flood of pent-up emotion spilling into the ears of a man you don’t even know. You rant about the crushing pressure at the academy, the way people sneer at you just for being Zaunite, and your shitty ex who only pretended to love you for his own benefit before stabbing you in the back. And now, here you are, drunk and crying like a lunatic at The Last Drop.

You’re not sure if you're imagining it, but when you finally glance at him after rambling on for so long, his expression seems softer somehow. His eyes no longer hold that sharp, unreadable edge they had when he first approached you. You’re not sure which is stronger in them now, pity or sympathy?

"I know what it feels like," he finally says, his voice thoughtful, as if dredging something up from deep within. "To be betrayed by someone you trusted." You notice a fleeting trace of pain on his face, a shadow that appears and fades so quickly it's almost invisible unless you're really paying attention. "But believe me, drowning yourself in alcohol won’t fix anything."

Silco places a hand on your shoulder, gently squeezing it in what seems to be an attempt at comfort.

"Why don’t you let me help you?" he asks, his tone careful, testing the waters.

You snort softly into your glass, take another swig, and let out a sarcastic scoff. “What are you gonna do? Beat up my ex for me? Get revenge in my name?”

For a split second, there’s a glint in his eyes. Cold. Calculated. Like the suggestion doesn’t sound too bad to him.

But just as quickly, it’s gone. Silco chuckles softly and offers you a wry smile.

"Nothing so dramatic, sweetheart," he assures you. "My offers are much simpler than that. Just the two of us, somewhere quiet. No distractions."

His voice dips low, almost into a whisper, and there's something dangerously enticing in the way he leans in close, speaking near your ear. "Let me keep you company tonight. And maybe, just maybe, I can help you forget all about your pain and your pathetic ex too.”

His hand still lingers on your shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. The light pressure of his fingers sends a strange jolt through your body, making you flinch just a little.

“Come on now, sweetheart.” He rises to his full height and takes your hand, giving it a light tug, coaxing you to stand as well. "Give yourself a chance to experience something new. What have you got to lose?”

You’re not naïve. You know that if you go with him, it’s not going to be just 'talking.'

You want to push him away, to snap at him and tell him to leave you the hell alone. But you’re drunk, and your thoughts aren’t exactly clear right now. Logic is buried under a mess of emotion: irritation, anger, sorrow, resentment. You’re falling apart, and the only thing that crosses your mind is: Fuck it.

You know this is a reckless way of lashing out, but honestly, even if tonight ends with you sleeping with a man old enough to be your father, does it really matter? You’re single. You’re free. And it’s not like you have a problem with one-night stands. In a way, maybe this is your twisted version of payback for that bastard ex.

Back when you were together, he wouldn’t even let you stand next to another man. He hated it when you wore makeup and said, "Only sluts do that." He insisted that your clothes stay modest, made sure your skirts went past your knees, controlled every little thing you did.

So maybe now, it’s time to finally be free.

Silco is right. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You press your lips into a tight line and turn to look at him, silently hoping this isn’t a mistake.

"...Fine. Just for tonight," you mutter and slowly push yourself up, swaying slightly from all the alcohol. "Lead the way." You try to sound confident, but the tremble in your voice betrays you.

Silco, on the other hand, is nothing but confidence. That smug, victorious smile creeps across his face as he grabs your arm to steady you and gently helps guide you out of the bar.

"Oh... just for tonight?" he murmurs beside your ear, his tone playfully mocking. "Let’s see how far tonight takes us, then."

"Welcome to my humble abode,"

Silco says as he leads you into his private quarters, a place that you quickly realize is anything but humble.

The room is vast and dimly lit. The soft glow from small lamps casts a warm, intimate ambiance. At the center stands a large desk, cluttered with books, maps, and curiosities gathered from all over the city. A plush red velvet sofa rests against one wall, paired with a nearby bookshelf, while the opposite side of the room features a bar lined with rows of expensive liquor bottles. Every corner exudes luxury, which feels like a world away from your cramped student dorm.

What draws your eye most is the bookshelf. You find yourself walking toward it as if enchanted, your fingertips grazing the spines of rare books with a mix of awe and wonder. The collection is meticulously maintained, showcasing a wealth of knowledge.

"You like to read?" you ask, still staring at the books.

"Of course. I believe knowledge is power. And in a place like Zaun, power is everything."

You flinch slightly as his warm breath brushes your ear. You have no idea when he moved to stand behind you, close enough that your bodies nearly touch. He holds two glasses of liquor, freshly poured from the bar. As you turn to face him, he hands one to you.

"Try it. This one’s a special blend, imported from Runeterra. I think you'll like it."

You accept the drink, sniffing it cautiously before taking a small sip. Your eyes widen slightly as the complex flavors dance across your tongue, leaving a lingering warmth in your mouth. It's stronger than anything you've had before, and far more exquisite. The quality is leagues above what they serve at The Last Drop. Clearly, this is the kind of liquor an ordinary Zaunite could never afford.

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washes over you. You’re struck by the sheer distance between you and this man, as if you come from two entirely different worlds. You’re just a broke student. He, on the other hand, seems rich, powerful, and completely out of reach. You can’t imagine what someone like him could possibly want with someone like you.

You set the glass down on a nearby table and meet his gaze. The height difference only makes you feel smaller. He towers over you, and your head comes just up to his shoulder.

"Why me?" you ask plainly. "I’m not suspicious or anything, but… you look like you could have anyone you want. So why would you waste your time on a stranger like me?"

Silco’s good eye narrows slightly with amusement. He takes a sip from his own glass before placing it beside yours, feigning contemplation.

"Why you?" he echoes. "Maybe because you're different. Innocent..."

His eyes travel slowly over you, from the plain blouse and muted brown skirt to your unadorned, makeup-free face. Nothing about you stands out. And yet, that’s exactly what makes you stand out in a place like Zaun, where everything is loud, brash, and glaring.

"You're not the kind of woman I usually see in Zaun," he adds.

His tone sounds playful, almost teasing, but there’s not a trace of humor in his gaze.

"To put it simply, I'm not just looking for someone to pass the time with. And you happen to be exactly what I want. Does that make sense, sweetheart?"

You flinch slightly as his fingertip brushes the tip of your chin, tracing the line of your jaw with slow, deliberate pressure, just enough to send a shiver racing down your spine.

"Wow… uh, you're very direct,"

You laugh awkwardly, your breath catching. Your throat suddenly feels dry, and you reach for the glass, downing it in one go. The bitter burn of alcohol floods your senses, drowning the unease stirring in your chest.

You’re beginning to wonder if it was a mistake to come here. This feels exactly like walking into a lion’s den.

But whatever the case, it’s too late to turn back now.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to face Silco once more. Your eyes flick to his lips for a brief moment before locking with his gaze. The air is thick with tension, a silence heavy with invisible pull.

Without breaking eye contact, you step closer, close enough to catch the intoxicating scent of alcohol and expensive cigars lacing his breath. It makes your head spin even more than the liquor coursing through your veins.

“You said power is everything in Zaun...” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. “Well, I’d like to get to know your power a little better. Care to show me?"

A slow, sharp smile curves across Silco’s lips. His eyes glint with understanding, catching the unspoken meaning behind your words. One arm wraps around your waist, his large hand sliding down your back, settling on your hip with a teasing squeeze before pulling you tightly against him. The movement is swift enough to draw a soft gasp from your lips. Your hands fly up to grip his shoulders instinctively to steady yourself, feeling the heat of his body seep through the thin fabric of his shirt.

His lips brush your ear as he leans in, his voice low and rough. “Sweetheart, I promise you’ll get to know every inch of my power. All night long.”

In the blink of an eye, he drives you backward until your back hits the wall. His mouth crashes onto yours in a searing kiss. You taste the faint bitterness of cigar on his tongue as it invades your mouth, tangling with yours in a hungry dance. Every movement is laced with raw desire. His hands roam freely over your body, exploring every curve with a possessive touch as the kiss deepens, stealing your breath and swallowing your every sound. All you can do is moan softly into his mouth, clinging to him for dear life, as if he's the only thing keeping you grounded.

The kiss steals the breath from your lungs and leaves your legs trembling. When he finally pulls away, your knees give out beneath you. You’ve never been kissed like this before, never been devoured so completely. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as a low chuckle rumbles from his throat, clearly amused by your breathless, weakened state. 

You try to say something, anything at all to regain your composure, but the words dissolve into a whimper when his lips shift to your neck, biting and sucking along your delicate skin, leaving behind pink marks that will surely linger for days.

"Let’s move to the sofa," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver. "Wouldn’t want you passing out before we’ve even started."

He kisses you again as he guides you toward the sofa in the corner of the room. Gently, he pushes you down onto the cushions, then climbs over you, fully in control. His hands slide beneath the hem of your skirt, caressing the soft skin of your inner thighs, inching higher until he reaches your panties. With a sudden tug, he strips them away before you even have time to react.

Your breath catches as the cool air brushes over your now-exposed sex. The way he looks at you, like he’s starving, makes you blush. You instinctively try to close your legs, but Silco doesn’t let you. He parts your knees with ease, holding you open as he lifts his head to meet your eyes, as if seeking permission.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice a mix of challenge and teasing intent.

"Honestly? Not really," you whisper between ragged breaths, trembling with anticipation. "So you'd better hurry before I change my mind."

A wicked grin spreads across his face, clearly pleased by your bold response. "With pleasure, sweetheart," he says.

His hand glides between your thighs and finds your slick center with practiced ease. His thumb presses against your clit in slow, deliberate circles, rubbing and teasing, drawing shivers of pleasure from you with every stroke that makes you jerk and moan.

Your mind begins to drift, overwhelmed by the rough texture of his fingers playing mercilessly with your cunt. Your fingers dig into the cushions. Your mouth falls open, and a helpless cry slips out.

He hasn’t even fucked you yet, but you already feel like you’re unraveling.

Your moans rise again the moment he slides his middle finger deep inside you. Every motion is precise, as though he knows exactly where to touch. He curls his fingers and hits that elusive spot with unnerving accuracy, each stroke sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your trembling body. The sensation is so intense it makes you writhe beneath him, but you can’t move far with his other hand gripping your hip, holding you in place as he adds another finger, plunging into your tight channel with a steady, relentless rhythm.

Your body is fully awakened, flushed and burning. Sting and bliss entwine, flooding through your core and making you tremble. You begin to grind your hips against his hand, chasing more of that exquisite friction, whimpering as he picks up the pace, thrusting deeper and faster until the wet, obscene sounds echo through the room.

His thumb circles your swollen clit in maddening patterns, each pass winding the tension tighter until it’s unbearable. When it finally snaps, you shatter.

Your body convulses with the force of your climax, vision blurring as pleasure surges through you in blinding waves. Your inner muscles spasm around his fingers, pulsing in the aftermath. You cling to him, gasping for air, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

His fingers keep moving, slower now, gentler, easing you down from the high and drawing out the bliss just enough to leave you melting beneath his touch.

The entire time, Silco never takes his eyes off you. He watches every flicker of expression, every twitch of your lips and flutter of your lashes, waiting until you begin to settle. Only then does he pull his fingers free, lifts them to his lips, and licks them clean, tasting the slick sheen on his skin. A satisfied smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

“Tastes pretty good,” he says flatly, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, want to disappear into the floor.

He lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. “Not used to people being that blunt, huh?” he teases, already knowing the answer.

One look is all it takes to read you. You're the type who always plays by the rules, never straying from the path. If it weren’t for a broken heart and the urge to rebel, you never would’ve agreed to a one-night stand with a stranger like him.

Silco makes quick work of your blouse buttons, revealing just enough to expose your lace-covered breasts to the air. You help him eagerly, reaching up to unhook your bra and letting the delicate thing slide from your shoulders. Yet your skirt stays on. You’re not quite ready to be fully naked in front of someone you barely know, and neither is he. He shrugs off his suit jacket, lets it fall to the floor, and remains in a dark red shirt, unbuttoned nearly to his abdomen. Then, he turns to his trousers.

You lift your head, watching as he pushes them down. Even with your thoughts spinning and your body burning, you manage to speak with firm clarity.

“Don’t forget the condom.”

Silco nods, not planning to take that risk either. He retrieves one from the pocket of his discarded pants, tears the wrapper open with his teeth, then rolls it smoothly onto his fully erect length. The latex snaps softly at the base. His eyes return to you, gleaming with hunger as they rake over your disheveled form. Your tousled hair, kiss-swollen lips, and flushed cheeks form a vision of raw, aching need.

His breathing grows heavier without him realizing, the last threads of control fraying, just one heartbeat away from snapping.

Without hesitation, Silco grabs your thighs and pulls you toward him, settling between your legs. The tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance, and he deliberately runs it along your folds, teasing you until you’re trembling with need.

"Ready, sweetheart?" he asks, though he has no intention of waiting for your reply.The moment the words leave his lips, he thrusts forward in a single, solid stroke, filling you to the brim.

Your eyes fluttered shut as your brows draw tight. The stretch is intense, your body struggling to take him in. But the tension doesn’t last. Slowly, your inner muscles begin to relax, the discomfort fading into a pulsing fullness that leaves you breathless. Silco moves with surprising control, his pace slow and each motion deliberate, a stark contrast to the ruthless man he’s known to be.

You open your eyes to find his gaze locked on yours. The fire in those mismatched irises draws you in, sets your pulse racing. You lift your head to kiss him, no longer shy, your hands roaming over his shoulders and down his back as if you never want to let him go.

The boldness catches him off guard, but he returns the kiss hungrily, his thrusts gaining force. When he finally pulls back, his eyes drop to your breasts, bouncing with each deep stroke. He reaches for them, hands full of soft flesh, thumbs teasing your nipples until they harden beneath his touch.

The dual sensation of his cock driving deep while his hands knead and tease your hardened nipples pushes you dangerously close to the edge. Moans spill from your lips, echoing through the room as the rhythm between you grows frantic and desperate.

Silco doesn’t hold back. Now that your body has fully yielded, he takes everything you offer. His hips slam into yours with rising force, each thrust angled to go deeper. He lifts your legs, hooking them around his waist, and fucks into you harder, faster, finding the secret spot that makes your whole body jolt. Ecstasy sparks through your limbs, your toes curling, every nerve lit up with punishing pleasure.

Your mind drifts, lost in the haze. The world shrinks to nothing but the two of you. A few tears of rapture slip from the corners of your eyes, and Silco leans down to lick them away. He feels the way your walls start to flutter around him, your voice rising in helpless cries as you teeter on the edge. He knows you're close, just as he is. A low growl escapes his throat, tension coiling in his loins as he nears his own breaking point.

He pounds into you with reckless abandon, chasing release. His rhythm stutters, but it’s enough to send you both spiraling into climax together.

With one final, brutal thrust, your vision whites out. Your body convulses, locking up as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. The second orgasm hits harder than the first, ripping through you with raw, unrelenting force. 

Deep inside, Silco pulses within you, spilling into the condom in hot, thick spurts of cum. He gasps for air, forehead resting against yours, both of you panting in sync, wrecked and breathless from the intensity of your coupling.

As the storm of lust begins to fade, neither of you moves. Silence settles over the room like a warm blanket, broken only by the slow return of steady breaths. Your limbs feel heavy, spent, and satisfied.

In the quiet, Silco reaches out to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, something unexpectedly tender flickers in his eyes. A rare, unguarded smile softens his scarred features before he leans in and kisses you again.

This final kiss is soft, almost reverent. You trade slow, lingering kisses, your tongues dancing lazily until he finally, reluctantly pulls away. He rolls off of you, slips off the condom, tosses it into the nearby trash, then begins to reassemble himself, piece by piece.

The heat between you lifts with the return of your senses, leaving behind nothing but a stifling awkwardness. You rise from the sofa and reach for your discarded underwear, slipping it on before buttoning your blouse and tugging your skirt back into place. You run your fingers through your tangled hair, trying to restore some semblance of composure.

Then, after a long pause, you turn to Silco.

 "Um... I think I should go."

You don’t have the courage to stay the night, not because you feel awkward or don’t want to impose, but because, deep down, you feel it too. Just like he does.

This wasn’t just casual sex.

Something about it feels different. Something deeper. Something neither of you can name.

It was good. Too good. So good it terrifies you. Because the longer you stay, the harder it’ll be to pretend this is only a one-night stand.

Silco says nothing for a long moment. He simply watches you, as though weighing something in his mind, before finally nodding.

"I’ll have my men take you back to Piltover."

He remains seated on the same sofa, lighting a fresh cigar, his eyes never leaving your face. Just as you start walking toward the door, he reaches out and grabs your arm.

"Will I see you again?"

It isn’t a command. Not even a proper question. Just a quiet request, with no pressure and no expectation.

You pause and glance back at him, meeting his gaze as you absorb the unspoken weight behind those words. Your lips press into a thin line as you weigh your heart against your better judgment.

"I don’t know... I have classes in Piltover. I probably won’t be coming down here often."

You choose your words carefully. Not shutting the door completely, but not leaving it open either.

Your worlds are too different. The gap between you isn’t just age. He belongs to the Undercity. You belong to the Uppercity. The chances of your paths crossing again are almost nonexistent. And you have too much at stake: your education, your future. It isn’t worth gambling all that on a fleeting connection with a man you barely know.

Maybe it’s better to cut things off now, before they get messy and spiral into something far more complicated.

Silco frowns at your answer. For a brief moment, something like disappointment seems to flicker across his face, quickly hidden beneath a casual smile.

"If that’s what you want," he says with a smile that tries to look understanding but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "And remember, sweetheart... whatever happens in the shadows, let it stay in the shadows."

His voice is gentle, almost a whisper of suggestion, but the message is unmistakably clear. Silco wants this night to remain a secret. No stories. No rumors. Nothing that could smear his name in Zaun.

Then he rises to his full height, steps closer, and reaches out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger a second too long against your skin, and his gaze softens just slightly.

"Good luck. Until then."

His touch sends a sharp jolt through you. You flinch, your cheeks flushing once more. Swallowing hard, you nod and whisper softly, "Goodbye."

You turn away before you can change your mind and walk out swiftly. Your heart pounds, and you can still feel his eyes on you even after the door clicks shut behind you.

You hope you won’t see him again.

...But things probably won’t go the way you hope.

Especially when the man you spent the night with isn’t just some stranger—he’s the most feared crime lord in all of Zaun.

Silco stands silently, watching you disappear through the door. A faint smile curves his lips as he recalls every detail of the time you spent together: the warmth of your touch, the softness of your skin, the way your body seemed to fit so perfectly against his. Like a puzzle piece made just for him.

This won’t be the last time he sees you—He’ll make sure of it.

A dangerous glint flickers in his eyes as he exhales a slow stream of cigar smoke, letting the thin gray haze drift lazily through the air. His thoughts move in silence, already shaping plans with you at the very center.

And Silco is a patient man.

He’ll wait.

Until the day you come crawling back to him.

[prdx-invdr]

୨୧⸝⸝﹕if you call me a fool, then i’ll be a fool.

SUMMARY! you’ve been in love with park wonbin since the day the two of you met and never found the courage to tell him. why is it that you find yourself yearning to confess the moment someone else comes into the picture?

PAIRING! park wonbin x fem!reader

GENRE! college!au, slice of life, fluff, angst (an attempt was made), friends to lovers, IDIOTS to lovers omg WC 8.1k

WARNING! swearing, jealousy, y/n likes wonbin an insane amount girl get up, insecurity, anton instigates like it’s his job and he’s up for a promotion, random female idol is mentioned many times (nothing against her!!), not proofread

NOTE! do u guys know what song the title is from lol.. LOL also i had another wonbin fic i wanted to post and deleted it bc it sucked so actually im posting this one as a coping mechanism

you don’t realize the way you’re staring at the back of wonbin’s head until a voice snaps you out of your trance. “do you know what you want?” shotaro asks you, waving a hand in front of your face.

currently, the two of you, along with wonbin, seunghan, and anton, are standing in line at a beverage kiosk. the latter, having already received his drink, stands to your right while shotaro stands to your left. seunghan recites his order to the employee while wonbin stands idly behind him.

“don’t even bother asking,” anton chortles, lips still wrapped around his straw. “she’s probably gonna have wonbin order for her, like always.” you lightly slap him in the arm after the words leave his mouth, eyes darting to the aforementioned boy standing merely 2 inches in front of you, hoping he hadn’t heard anton’s teasing.

“i didn’t even say anything wrong! he orders for you all the time!” the boy whines, jokingly rubbing his arm where you had hit him.

shotaro lets out a curt laugh at the interaction, knowing that anton’s words held truth to them, whether you liked to admit it or not. “it’s because she’s shy. right, y/n?” he turns to you, attempting to diffuse your embarrassment. one look at the smile on his face and anyone would be able to tell that his words were complete bullshit. the two of you knew that the real reason you liked having wonbin order for you was because you liked him.

however, for your own sake, you sigh and choose to agree with shotaro’s statement, only offering a small nod. “whatever,” anton mutters under his breath, walking over to seunghan who has his own beverage in hand.

now that you, shotaro and wonbin were the only people in line, shotaro grabs your sleeve and gently pulls you backwards, putting more distance between the two of you and the boy who was now placing his order. before shotaro says anything, you know what the topic of conversation is going to be.

“do you ever plan on telling him?” is all he inquires, his voice lowering to a whisper. you avoid his piercing gaze, instead turning to look at anton and seunghan, laughing in between sips of their respective drinks. anton is already nearly finished with his, you note.

when you’re done observing them, you shift your attention to wonbin, who has his arms crossed as he points at one of the cup sizes the kiosk has on display, indicating that it’s the one he wants.

you’re unable to see his face but you’re able to picture it better than anything. the way his lip quirks upwards in an attempt to be polite to the employee. the furrow of his brow as he asks a question.

shotaro sighs at your silence and finds it astonishing how you’re able to ogle wonbin without even looking at his face. that very sigh brings you back into reality, finally meeting the gaze of the boy currently interrogating you.

“he… doesn’t think of me that way,” you slowly tell him, as if the words would physically pain you if you uttered them too quickly. shotaro lets out a noise you can only assume was meant to be a scoff, but being passive aggressive simply doesn’t run in his blood.

“are you kiddi-“ shotaro is interrupted by wonbin holding a drink in front of your face, thus putting a barrier between the two of you. “here, y/n,” the long haired boy hums, not moving from his spot until you take the beverage filled plastic cup. if you didn’t have park wonbin tunnel vision, as shotaro likes to call it, you’d see the way anton is shaking his head and letting out a short laugh in disbelief upon witnessing the interaction. “called it,” he tells seunghan, who only blinks in confusion.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, but i remembered that time we went to that other drink place and you said you really liked the strawberry one, so i got you that,” wonbin explains, holding his own straw up to his mouth. he says it nonchalantly, as if you could either finish the drink in about 5 seconds before proclaiming how much you enjoyed it, or you could throw it to the ground and curse at him for assuming the flavor you wanted, and he wouldn’t flinch either way.

“um— yes— yeah, i..” you stutter, and shotaro swears it takes everything in him not to slap his own forehead at your sudden jumpiness. “i like it, thank you. you didn’t have to, wonbin,” you exhale, holding your drink with both hands.

“yeah, well, force of habit, you know?” the boy laughs. “since i’m always ordering for you anyway.” his words cause you to tense and you can just picture anton’s shit-eating grin after he heard what wonbin said. “right, yeah,” you nod, wanting the conversation to be over with. the 5 of you continue walking throughout the mall, seunghan complaining about what a ridiculous amount of time you had all just spent at that beverage kiosk.

“force of habit is crazy,” anton decides to tease you again, earning another slap on the arm. “stop hitting me!”

besides ordering drinks for you when you hadn’t requested for him to do so, anton has noticed that wonbin also tends to subconsciously let you get away with… a lot.

he doesn’t even attempt to hide the way he rolls his eyes when he walks into the living room and sees none other than you and wonbin, the latter seated on the carpeted floor while you’re situated on the couch behind him, playing with his hair.

“i shouldn’t have come in here,” he mutters, barely audible. he’s unsure if he wanted you and wonbin to hear him, but your head snaps in his direction nonetheless. “hey, anton,” you greet him despite knowing that he’d have a lot to say about your current position. he nods his head in acknowledgement before pursing his lips. you brace yourself for whatever comment he’ll inevitably make next, morphing your lips into a straight line.

“you know,” anton starts, and you’re already holding back the urge to groan. “wonbin never lets any of us touch his hair like that.”

“right, because you guys are always so eager to play with my hair, huh?” wonbin quips sarcastically. anton shrugs, although wonbin isn’t looking at him. “so you’re saying if we wanted to, we could?” anton questions, moving across the living room to grab his phone charger, finally remembering why he had walked into the room in the first place.

“nah,” wonbin replies, “not sure why you’d want to, anyway.”

“i don’t see you questioning why y/n wants to do it,” anton insists, already making his way out of the room, pausing momentarily to hear wonbin’s response.

“she doesn’t need a reason,” his older friend says, “she’s y/n.” anton shakes his head and continues on his way. you resume treading your hand through wonbin’s hair as if nothing had happened, but unbeknownst to the boy sitting in front of you, your heart rate had increased at his words.

“he’s just jealous,” wonbin jokes. you only let out a short laugh in response. you wonder how he would react if you informed him that anton had actually sprung up that conversation because he knows about your tremendous crush on the raven haired boy.

“do you think you’d ever go blonde?” you inquire, changing the subject. he lets out a snort and tilts his head to look back at you. you’re grinning, trying to ignore the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“i don’t think the world is ready for that,” he laughs.

“what are we laughing about in here?” a voice sings from the door way, ripping your attention away from wonbin. you turn to the perpetrator and lock eyes with sungchan, who sends you a smile. you wave at him and he takes it as an invitation to sit himself down on the couch beside you.

“nothing much,” wonbin answers. your hands finally retreat from his hair and you miss the way his shoulders slump in response.

“right,” sungchan nods, turning his attention to whatever you and wonbin are watching on tv. in actuality, neither you nor him have been paying the television any mind for at least an hour, and only now do you realize that some sort of ocean documentary has been playing this whole time.

a few minutes of silence proceed before sungchan clasps his hands together and stands up from the couch abruptly, startling you.

“man, this has been boring,” he announces, eyes darting between the two of you, seated in the same positions as when he first entered the room. “do you guys even talk?”

“we were, actually, before you walked in,” wonbin mutters, not meaning for his words to come out as sourly as they do. sungchan raises his hands in the air in defense. “hey, my bad. i didn’t realize the two of you were having an ocean documentary date,” he retorts.

“we’re not having-“ you’re about to correct him, only for him to cut you off.

“but, you know, bin,” he says, “i’m not sure how sangah would feel about you having a movie date with another girl.”

you feel like your entire world freezes over the moment you hear those words leave sungchan’s mouth. you quickly rid your face of your crestfallen expression, not wanting to give yourself away.

“who?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, and sungchan just stares at you. wonbin waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head in annoyance. “shut up, dude.”

“wait, y/n doesn’t know about sangah?” sungchan asks, a genuinely confused look crossing over his features. “i thought you guys told each other everything.”

wonbin groans in irritation. “i haven’t told anyone, actually, because it doesn’t matter. you only know because you’re nosy as fuck.”

sungchan chuckles, and you would attempt to let out a halfhearted laugh if you didn’t feel like your chest was aching. you lick your lips and stare questioningly at the side of wonbin’s head.

“look, bro,” sungchan gestures towards you, causing wonbin to turn around and meet your disheartened eyes. his face drops slightly, and you’re not in the correct headspace to try and pinpoint why. “she’s upset because you didn’t tell her!” his friend chimes.

wonbin shakes his head, still looking at you. “she’s just some girl,” he huffs. “i don’t even know her that well.”

you scoff before plastering a wobbly smile onto your face. “i’m not upset,” your voice quivers and you hope that wonbin doesn’t notice it. you’re not sure why he decides to reassure you about sangah— whoever that is— but you pray that it’s not because he’s known about your pathetic crush on him all this time and is now feeling bad for you because he’s currently seeing someone.

of course, only your cruel mind could formulate such a sickening thought.

“i’m just.. surprised,” you conclude with an unconvincing nod. wonbin closes his eyes in annoyance, and you know it’s because of his intrusive friend standing in the doorway. “sungchan, just stop spreading shit around, alright?” he gives him a tired look, finally getting up from the floor. as wonbin makes his way past sungchan in the doorway, the taller boy gives him a playful slap on the shoulder. with wonbin having left the room, you find yourself looking to sungchan with urgency.

“who is sangah?” you plead, trying to keep your emotions at bay. the boy furrows his eyebrows, confusion settling into his features once more. “why do you care, y/n?” he asks. you know that his question doesn’t come from a place of mockery, but rather genuine interest. it hits you in that moment that sungchan, as smart as he is, happens to be absolutely terrible at taking a hint.

somehow, when it came to the long lasting feelings you harbored for one of his closest friends, sungchan was none the wiser. you surmise that he wouldn’t have teased wonbin so openly about another girl had he known about your feelings for the long haired boy.

that, you suppose, you can’t really blame him for.

“um,” you start, “he’s one of my closest friends.” your words are spoken through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “i’m just curious, you know?” the lie comes out easier than you think it should’ve.

sungchan hums, crossing his arms and giving you a curt nod. “just some girl,” sungchan tells you, repeating wonbin’s words from a few minutes ago. “yoon sangah. she’s in our music fundamentals class. like, 2 days ago, i think, she wrote her instagram handle on a slip of paper and gave it to wonbin right in front of me.” your face falls for what seems like the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. you can only offer the tall boy a nearly inaudible hum in response.

“do you think it’ll lead to anything? you know, between her and wonbin?” again, you can’t stop yourself from asking. you feel sick at the thought of playing into the role of ‘jealous, overthinking girlfriend’, and even sicker at the fact that you and wonbin aren’t even dating. what right do you have to be inquisitive about his love life?

still, you can’t help it. when sungchan takes a bit longer to respond to your question you fear you’re treading on dangerous territory, afraid that even the dense boy you’re conversing with may have cracked the code. the grin that he aims at you a few seconds later serves as reassurance that, no, he still doesn’t know anything.

“that’s a good question, y/n dearest,” he pats your shoulder lightly. “i guess only time will tell.”

you hate yourself for what you’re doing right now.

looking back on the conversation you had with sungchan hours prior to this moment, you recalled him mentioning that sangah had given wonbin her instagram. thus, like any normal person would do in your situation, you took it upon yourself to go through wonbin’s following list in an attempt to find her.

you scroll past your own account, past the accounts of your mutual friends, and a few people who you presume are some of wonbin’s classmates.

when you finally stumble across sangah’s account, your body fills with dread before you even see a proper photo of her.

judging by her profile picture alone, you can tell that she’s pretty. you’re fully looking at her profile now, and your frown only deepens. she’s beautiful.

you shake your head as if it would help ease your racing mind. she’s beautiful, yes, you think, but looks aren’t everything. you find yourself childishly crossing your fingers that sangah had the personality of an evil witch, so that even if wonbin fell victim to her physical charm, he’d be pushed away by her true nature.

you let out a quiet scoff. you can’t believe you’re sitting here thinking badly about another girl just because she might have a crush on the same man you’ve been in love with since the day you met him. in the same sense, you can’t believe that when you say that sentence out loud, it actually sounds a bit reasonable. you blame sungchan, for a moment, drawing the inference that you wouldn’t feel so insecure right now if it hadn’t been for his previous teasing.

you can’t stop yourself when you click on one of sangah’s posts. she doesn’t have many, but the few that she has have seemed to gather thousands of likes. despite this, you take note of the fact that wonbin doesn’t have any of them liked— thank god, you think to yourself. you start to analyze her photos, the faces she makes at the camera, the outfits she wears, the way her hair is styled. when studying her facial expressions, you wonder if she’s made those same faces while looking at wonbin. when taking her outfits into consideration, you wonder if wonbin has seen her wearing any of them and thought she looked particularly nice. whilst examining her hair, you resist the urge to rip out your own. it’s perfect. she’s perfect.

she’s perfect, and from what you can tell, you aren’t anything like her. so what does that make you?

you move to close the app, feeling filled to the brim with self doubt when you suddenly freeze as your phone vibrates. you hesitantly open your dms and your eyes widen as they fall upon the newest message.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: why are u awake

your heart races and you momentarily contemplate if wonbin had somehow set up a security camera in your bedroom without your knowledge because how on earth did he know?

you don’t ponder on the matter for long, the aforementioned boy sending another message merely a few seconds later.

[3:02 AM] 1bin_02: u have ur activity status turned on btw

exhaling a breath of relief, you type a response to him.

[3:03 AM] you: why are U awake park wonbin

[3:03 AM] 1bin_02: i just woke up like 5 minutes ago. my y/n senses were tingling and my unconscious body felt a disturbance

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: kiddinggg

[3:04 AM] 1bin_02: but fr why are u awake

you hold your breath as you type out your next response, choosing to be daring. you decide that, even if it’s only for a few seconds, you’re no longer going to be a coward.

[3:06 AM] you: i was thinking about u

[3:06 AM] 1bin_02: ditto

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: i know im amazing and everything but don’t let me stop u from getting ur beauty rest 🙄 jk

[3:07 AM] 1bin_02: gn dummy

you decide against saying anything else, shutting off your phone with a sigh. you are a dummy, you think, and the boy who had just given you that title has no idea that it’s all because of him.

you’re exhausted the next day, concluding that being awake at 3 in the morning despite knowing that you had a class at 8AM was not the best idea.

wonbin is quick to take note of this, poking you on your side as the two of you follow your usual route to your next lecture of the day. “i bet someone regrets staying up until 3AM, hm?” he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as you swat his hand away. “like you weren’t up at 3AM, too,” you mutter. he clicks his tongue in response. “that was only for a few minutes,” he says, “who knows how long you were awake for, though.”

before you’re forced to dignify wonbin with a response, anton and seunghan walk up to the two of you, the latter offering a wave while the former only smiles.

“where are we headed, guys?” seunghan asks, throwing an arm around wonbin. the boy attempts to shrug him off to no avail. “anton and i wanted to go get drinks and we were wondering if you guys wanted to come with,” he grins before quietly adding, “and maybe also pay for them.”

you laugh and wonbin turns to you upon hearing it, letting out a playful scoff of his own. “can’t, y/n has class in 10 minutes or so,” he turns to the two boys who now have their eyebrows raised in apprehension. “that’s where we were headed,” he finishes.

“and you’re walking her there,” anton nods, his words posing as more of a statement than a question. you can only dramatically roll your eyes. wonbin doesn’t seem to pick up any undertones, only nodding in response. “i might be able to tag along afterwards, though. no promises.”

“well, anton,” seunghan sighs, turning to his friend, “we’ll just have to take shotaro inste-“

the boy is cut off by the sound of a girlish voice calling out wonbin’s name. all 4 of you turn around in unison, and you feel like your heart has physically sunken into the floor. sangah.

wonbin’s at a loss for words for a moment and you want to run away more than anything. you’re not prepared to see the two of them interact, especially after looking at her instagram page last night. “hey, sangah,” is all he says, a smile plastered on his face that pains you to look at.

the girl is practically beaming. “what are you up to?” she grins, her eyes not daring to look anywhere but him. his eyes flicker to you momentarily, who is struggling to breathe.

“i’m walking her—” he gestures to you and sangah finally looks away from him, eyes now trained on yours, “to class. well, i was, before these two showed up.” wonbin waves a hand in anton and seunghan’s direction, the two boys adorning matching confused expressions on their faces. nobody moves a muscle for a few seconds and you’re afraid that your rapid heartbeat can be heard atop of the pin-drop silence.

“oh! my bad,” wonbin clears his throat, “guys, this is sangah,” he gestures towards the girl, “sangah, this is… guys.” he gestures towards his friends. “and y/n,” he gestures towards you for the second time, giving you a tap on the shoulder for good measure. sangah’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and she reaches out to shake your hand. you’re positive that if it weren’t for the freezing hallways of your university, your hands would be sweating, so you silently thank whoever’s in charge of the ac for seemingly always having it cranked up to the max. you and the girl shake hands, her smile noticably brighter than yours.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” she says. “you, too,” is all you’re able to respond with, smile tight.

“nice to meet you guys, too,” she waves at anton and seunghan with both hands and they wave back, offering their own respective greetings in return. awkward.

you cough, attempting to break the silence. “this has been fun,” you press your lips together for a second, “but i’ve gotta get to class. hope you guys have fun at that drink place later, or whatever,” you trail off, the last part of your sentence aimed towards anton and seunghan. “and it was nice meeting you, again,” you add, making eye contact with sangah. she smiles. you don’t say anything to wonbin as you attempt to squeeze past him, but he grabs your arm. “i’m walking with you, remember?” he says. you resist the urge to look at sangah or anyone else in your vicinity for that matter, surprised at his words. this random girl who’s obviously into him is standing only a few inches away and wonbin still insists on walking you to class.

“it’s okay,” you shake your head, unsure. wonbin can tell that you’re beginning to feel upset and he desperately wishes that sangah and even seunghan and anton were anywhere but here. “y/n-“ he starts, you cut him off. “it’s fine, wonbin,” you reaffirm. it isn’t, though.

you begin to walk in the direction of your class and release a breath that you hadn’t known you were holding. deep down, you wanted wonbin to disregard your words and resume walking with you, leaving sangah and his friends standing in the hallway. but wonbin was too polite for that, and you couldn’t even turn around to see if he had continued to engage in conversation with the 3 of them because you felt tears forming in your eyes. stupid, stupid, stupid, you think to yourself.

unbeknownst to you, sangah was able to sense the tension in the atmosphere before anyone had even said anything to her. she kisses her teeth, scratching the side of her head. “i should probably go, too,” she tells wonbin. the boy can tell that she would’ve liked to talk more, but he wasn’t looking to become friends or even acquaintances with her. doing that would only give her the wrong idea, and he didn’t want to have any bad blood with someone he’d be forced to see nearly everyday in class. the boy nods in understanding, giving her a wave. “nice.. talking to you,” he bids her farewell, unsure of what to say, because whatever had just transpired definitely did not qualify as a conversation. the girl waves back with an unwavering smile, walking in the opposite direction you had gone.

“oh, man,” seunghan lets out a laugh he had been holding in, “that was the worst. please don’t ever put me through anything like that again.” anton silently agrees, cringing.

“is it just me,” wonbin starts, ignoring his friend’s remark, “or did y/n seem kind of upset before she left?”

anton stretches his arms slightly, eyes looking anywhere but at his dark haired friend. “wonder why that might be,” he muses under his breath, but wonbin catches it. “what do you mean?” he pushes, looking his younger friend in the eye. anton puts his hands in the air in mock surrender.

“anton, what the hell do you mean?” wonbin asks again, voice tinged with annoyance. anton shakes his head, “figure it out.”

seunghan watches his friends go back and forth, a bit confused himself. much like sungchan, he seems to be completely oblivious when it comes to the way you feel about wonbin.

you’re currently sitting in class wondering why you even bothered to show up.

you knew before you even sat down that you wouldn’t be able to process a single word of the lecture, your mind thinking over your first official encounter with sangah.

ever since last night, you’ve started to dread moments like these— none of your friends being around to distract you, leaving you alone with your own miserable thoughts. it feels as though each minuscule moment of silence is filled with your insecurities being pushed to the forefront of your mind.

what did they talk about after you had left? did seunghan and anton decide to leave shortly after, leaving wonbin and sangah alone? did they grow closer in the small amount of time they were left together? even worse, what if the amount of time they spent together wasn’t small at all? oh god, what if they’re still together right now?

had anton, seunghan or, worst of all, wonbin decided to invite sangah to their aforementioned drink hangout? your mind drifts to the image of wonbin ordering a drink for sangah, the same way he always does for you, and you feel like bursting into tears similarly to the way you had almost done so on your way to class.

and sangah— god, you wanted to hate her so bad. your prayers that she had the personality of a wicked witch were thrown out the window the second she opened her mouth. she was so nice to you. the guy that she likes had openly expressed that he wanted to walk you to class and she still smiled at you. she’s got the most perfect appearance and most perfect attitude and you feel like you can’t compete with any of it.

you check your phone for the first time in approximately 30 minutes, eager for a distraction. you’re dismayed to see only 3 notifications, one from the boy who seems the root of every current problem in your life, and two from sungchan.

[10:04 AM] bin 🫶: everything ok??

[10:16 AM] sungchani: hey

[10:16 AM] sungchani: we’re all gonna hang out on friday night (as decided by me just now) and u will be coming! (also decided by me just now)

you open your phone, typing a quick response to wonbin about how everything is fine (lie) and sending another short message in hopes of steering the conversation in a different direction. you open the two messages from sungchan, shaking your head as if he’d be able to sense your attitude through the screen.

[10:48 AM] you: who’s “we” exactly…. and what will “we” be doing

[10:50 AM] sungchani: don’t act dumb girl… me, you, taro, seunghan, anton and wonbin obviously. was gonna see if eunseok and sohee could make it but i doubt eunseok would wanna and i think sohee’s doing some group assignment lolol

[10:51 AM] sungchani: as for your other question i was thinking about going to the movies yay or nay? (say yay)

[10:51 AM] you: pass

[10:52 AM] sungchani: perfect see u there!

you don’t bother responding to sungchan’s final message, knowing that no amount of opposition from you would deter him. he’d probably drag you all the way to the theater himself if he had to. but you really don’t want to go, feeling drained from the thoughts that have been plaguing your mind ever since sungchan mentioned sangah for the first time. you’d much rather spent your friday night in bed, trying to give your brain a much needed break. maybe if you really felt like torturing yourself, you’d pull up sangah’s instagram once more.

when class ends, you’re shocked to find anton waiting for you outside of the lecture hall. he’s holding a plastic cup filled with chai tea, leaning against the wall leisurely as he sips through an orange straw. he doesn’t look in your direction, which confuses you, because you’re undoubtedly the reason he’s currently standing outside of your classroom.

“lee anto-“ the boy in question cuts you off by lifting his index finger in front of your face, still not looking at you. you scoff in irritation, not wanting to deal with his antics in your current state.

“you’re coming on friday, yes?” he questions, his voice slightly above a whisper. “not if i don’t have to,” you say, your voice at a normal volume. anton, finally looking you in the eyes, presses his index finger to his lips as if to indicate that you need to be quieter. “you do have to,” he nods.

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “why the hell are you whispering?” you scowl, and he keeps his index finger on his lips. you groan before reluctantly lowering your voice to match his, despite the fact that you still don’t know why he wants you to do so. “what’s going on?” you inquire.

“you have to come on friday,” he repeats quietly, “and you’re gonna tell dark star that you’re in love with him.”

you blink. “who?” anton leans his head back in annoyance before mouthing, “PARK WONBIN.” you recoil for a myriad of reasons. “first of all, i’m not coming on friday,” your voice slightly increases in volume, “and even if i was, i most definitely would not use it as an opportunity to confess to wonbin. and why in the world did you just call him that?” you finish, exasperated.

anton only sips his drink, his aura calm and collected. “you’re going,” he answers pointedly, “because if you don’t, dark star is gonna find out either way.”

your eyes widen and you feel like all of the air has left your lungs. “what do you mean by that? you wouldn’t actually-“

“i would, though. if telling dark star about your crush on him would get you to stop pining after him like a fool, why wouldn’t i? and, in addition,” anton fully turns to you, his voice raising to a light mumble, “i saw the way you reacted when sarah started talking to him earlier.”

“it’s sangah,” you deadpan. anton waves his hand dismissively. “not the point. with the way you acted earlier, you would’ve thought they were getting married right in the middle of that hallway,” he sounds concerned as he speaks the words, not looking anywhere but at you.

“i’m not saying that wonbin— dark star, i mean, has a thing for sandra right now. frankly, i don’t think he cares about her at all,” anton continues, “but if you’re that worried about some random girl taking him away from you when they’ve known each other for like, a week, i think that’s a sign that it might be a good idea to tell him how you’re feeling.”

you look down, letting his words settle into your mind. “i’ll come on friday,” you nod, and the boy in front of you smiles at your words, “but i have to give the whole confessing to wonbin thing a bit more thought. i mean, it’s kind of sudden.” anton’s advice actually made sense, you think, but you’re not sure if you’re ready to tell the boy you’ve been harboring feelings for all this time that you’re in love with him on a random friday night.

“sudden?” anton asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “i think it’s long overdue. fire tornado hector thinks so, too,” he tells you.

you turn to him, dumbfounded. “where the hell are you getting these names from?!”

friday night comes in the blink of an eye and you’re standing in the lobby of the theater with shotaro, anton, seunghan, and sungchan. wonbin is nowhere to be seen.

“i told him 7PM sharp,” sungchan murmurs impatiently, checking his watch. shotaro turns to anton, jokingly hitting the younger boy on the arm with a laugh. “imagine he just decided to stay home,” he chuckles, “i bet y/n would be relieved.”

“why would she be relieved?” seunghan intrudes curiously. anton shrugs. “i told her she had to confess to wonbin tonight,” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just revealed your not-so-secret secret to an unsuspecting seunghan. the older boy’s eyebrows raise at anton’s words, his lips parting.

“you like wonbin?” he questions you eagerly. “dude, i can’t believe you didn’t know by now,” anton answers in your place as you press your lips together. “and we won’t be using the name wonbin when he arrives. he’s dark star. the codename helps when you’re trying to be discreet,” he finishes.

“yeah, because you know all about being discreet, right?” you reply, voice laced with sarcasm. anton knows that you’re referring to the way he had exposed your feelings for wonbin merely 30 seconds ago, avoiding your gaze as he whistles idly.

“sorry i’m late, guys,” the man of the hour exhales as he walks up to the 5 of you. sungchan studies wonbin, unimpressed. the latter can sense his older friend’s agitation, clicking his tongue. “you’ll forgive me once you find out why i’m late,” he assures, “look who i brought with me.”

you can’t prevent the way your heartbeat escalates, both at the mere presence of wonbin and the words that have just left his mouth. you’re unsure if you even want to find out who he’s brought with him, fearing the worst.

“sohee! eunseok!” you hear sungchan exclaim, excitedly making his way over to the two figures that have just entered the theater. he wraps his lengthy arms around both of them simultaneously.

“guess our invitations got lost in the mail, huh?” eunseok muses, returning his friend’s embrace. the three of them return to where you and the others are standing and sungchan scratches the back of his neck. “my bad, man,” he utters bashfully, “the movie we’re watching is pretty lame. didn’t think you’d be into it.”

“still, it’s an excuse to see you guys,” eunseok shrugs, turning to greet everyone else. sohee does the same, wrapping his arms around you before anyone else.

“y/n! it’s been forever,” he grins, you return it. “it’s been… 2 weeks,” you tell him, hugging him back nonetheless. “i still missed you, though,” you hum. “stop hogging him, y/n!” seunghan teases, “we haven’t seen him in weeks either!”

the two of you release each other, and when you turn, wonbin is at your side. he taps your arm. “why don’t you greet me like that?” he feigns jealousy, pursing his lips. you smile at him, hoping to mask your nervousness, “i see you everyday.”

he rolls his eyes. “that doesn’t mean you can’t miss me.”

“i always do,” you say absentmindedly. by the time your words register, wonbin is already grinning. “ditto,” he mutters, his words meant for only you to hear.

he turns away before you can comment, and eunseok takes his place beside you. he wraps an arm around your shoulders, greeting you. you think nothing of his actions before he leans down, angling his head so that it’s directly next to your ear. “i heard about healing michael’s plan,” he whispers, “the one about getting you to confess to dark star.”

“please don’t start this,” you plead, “i cannot deal with these nicknames right now. and how do you know about that?”

“um,” he starts, moving his head away from yours, “obviously healing michael filled me in on everything. just because we don’t physically see each other everyday doesn’t mean we don’t have a group chat.” he moves back to the previous topic, “he threatened to tell dark star about how you’re madly in love with him, right? he’s bluffing,” eunseok explains, “if you confess to dark star tonight, it should be because you really love him. not because anton frightened you into doing it.”

you nod at eunseok’s words, unsure. “and,” he continues, “it shouldn’t be about some other girl that might like him, either.” he takes note of the way your eyes widen a fraction. “yeah, anton told me about that, too,” he nods as you make a mental reminder to yell at anton later for airing out your business.

“what i’m saying, y/n, is make sure that you’re telling him how you feel, not for anyone else, but for you. well, and for him. and for you and him, together,” eunseok concludes, “don’t let healing michael or sandy get in the way of it.”

“it’s sangah,” you sigh, in awe of the fact that you’ve had to correct both him and anton. sungchan appears to have heard your final words, perking up at the mention of wonbin’s classmate.

“sangah? we’re talking about sangah?” he blurts out, turning to wonbin with a smile. “bro, we totally should’ve invited her,” he jokes, slapping his friend on the arm, “seeing her and wonbin interact in the theater would’ve been hilarious.” everyone grows tense at sungchan’s teasing— he was somehow still the only one unaware of your feelings for wonbin.

wonbin only shakes his head in response, his first instinct being to look over at you. you’re wearing that same disheartened look on your face as the first time you found out about sangah, and he can hardly breathe. his eyes narrow at the sight of eunseok’s arm still hanging off your shoulders.

“sungchan, when does the movie start? we’ve been standing here for a while,” shotaro states, attempting to alleviate the situation. “oh, we still have about,” sungchan checks the time on his watch, “ten minutes before the trailers even start playing,” he responds.

shotaro ushers the group over to the concession counter, quickly making some excuse about everyone needing to choose their snacks for the movie. “amateurs,” sungchan mutters, “who doesn’t bring their own snacks to the movies?”

wonbin finds his place beside you again, briefly studying your features. he notices the way you stand stiffly in your spot and the slight wrinkle between your brows. “hey,” he tries to get your attention. your eyes soften as they meet his that are flooded with worry. “i’m sorry,” he frowns, “about what happened back there. i don’t know why he keeps mentioning her.”

you’re puzzled and, yet again, asking yourself if he’s apologizing because he knows that you have feelings for him or if it’s because he still thinks you’re upset that he didn’t tell you about sangah sooner.

you prayed that he wasn’t apologizing due to the former, but why would he even need to apologize if it was the latter? if nothing was going on between wonbin and sangah, he had no reason to tell you about her. you press your lips into a tight line. maybe that was it— something was going on between them. that’s why he’s saying sorry to you right now, because he regrets not telling you before when you’re supposed to be one of his closest friends.

and that’s all you’ll ever be to him, because you were too much of a coward to confess to him when you had the chance. you think about how disappointed your friends are going to be once you break the news to them that you wouldn’t be confessing to wonbin tonight, or ever.

“don’t apologize, wonbin,” you quietly tell him, and he wonders why it seems as though you’re about to cry. he shakes his head, getting the sense that you misunderstood his words. he looks back at your mutual friend group, seeing that they’re all preoccupied. wonbin seizes the opportunity, grabbing your hand and taking you to a secluded area of the theater.

“please don’t tell me not to apologize,” he breathes, “because i have so much to apologize to you for.”

you’re confused and concerned, your lips parting slightly. you don’t have the chance to savor the feeling of wonbin’s hand still holding yours because you’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever words he’s about to say. this is it, you tell yourself. you stare at the ground, anticipating the feeling of disappointment and rejection.

“i like you so much.”

you stop breathing as the words leave wonbin’s mouth. you’re terrified to look up, unsure if you’d even heard him correctly. he responds to your unvoiced worries by repeating the statement.

“i like you so much, and i’m sorry for holding it in this long,” he says breathlessly, “i’m sorry for letting sungchan talk about sangah all the time, because i didn’t want you to think that i could ever like anyone else.”

he continues despite your silence. “and i’m sorry for telling you all of this in a movie theater, of all places. i’ve been psyching myself up for weeks, but i couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing any longer. i’m tired of misunderstandings.”

he finally takes a deep breath, and you look up at him for the first time. “are you serious?” is all you’re able to say. you want to be 100% sure that your mind isn’t being as cruel as it normally is when it comes to park wonbin.

he nods, appearing to be just as nervous as you are, and you think that’s good enough of an indicator that he’s not joking.

“you fool,” you breath out in utter disbelief, not knowing if your words are directed at wonbin or yourself. the boy looks troubled for a moment before he hears a noise similar to a sob leave your mouth.

you hide your face with your hands. “i was supposed to be the one to confess to you.”

it’s wonbin’s turn to be silent now, listening to you rant. “it was this whole thing— healing michael, dark star.. eunseok knew about it, and shotaro..” you trail off. your words don’t even make sense to yourself, and you doubt they make any sense to the boy in front of you. “my god, wonbin— i’ve liked you since the day i met you!” you cry, hands still obstructing your vision.

wonbin hesitantly takes it upon himself to grab your wrists, removing your hands from your face. “do you mean that?” he asks, trying to meet your gaze.

you don’t look him in the eye as you continue rambling. “i was so scared,” you tell him, “sungchan mentioned her out of nowhere that day and i was so scared. i thought she was your secret girlfriend, or something.” you feel stupid for telling him all of this, finally admitting to your jealousy.

“when i saw her for the first time, i thought it was over,” you shake your head, “someone so pretty having a crush on you? i felt like nothing next to her. sungchan even told me that she wrote down her instagram and casually handed it to you— i’d kill to be that confident in myself,” you’re not even paying attention to the words leaving your mouth anymore, wanting to get everything you’ve been holding in out of your system.

when you finally look at wonbin’s face, he looks sad, which startles you. you’re afraid that you’ve just killed his mood with your venting. “i’m sorry— i didn’t me-“ you’re interrupted by wonbin pulling you to his chest, shaking his head at your words. “you fool,” he repeats your words from minutes ago. “i can’t believe you’ve been feeling that way about yourself.”

he keeps you in his embrace as if you’d run away if he were to let go. “i can’t think of anyone prettier than you,” he mutters, “or nicer, or funnier. or anything, really, because i think of you more than anyone else. i guess it’s my fault, kind of. i could’ve expressed it in ways other than walking you to class and ordering dumb overpriced drinks for you.” you let out a quiet laugh at his last sentence and he smiles, pulling away slightly so he’s able to see your face.

“i guess we’re both kind of stupid,” you conclude, earning a nod from the dark haired boy. “only when it comes to you,” he says, “i happen to think i’m very intelligent on every other occasion.”

when you finally regroup with everyone, they’re all wearing looks of disappointment on their faces. upon asking what happened, eunseok shoves a thumb in sungchan’s direction, the brown haired boy adorning a sheepish expression. “this fucker got the time wrong. the movie was at 6:15, not 7:15,” eunseok grimaces, “i better get a refund for my ticket.”

“you didn’t even pay for it,” wonbin says, “i did. sohee’s, too.”

anton, having been the first one to notice both yours and wonbin’s disappearance from the group, narrows his eyes at the boy. “and where were you?” he raises a brow, attempting to look intimidating. wonbin dismisses him with the wave of a hand.

before you and wonbin decided to rejoin your friends, you had to tell him not to hold your hand, much to his dismay. only after discovering the reason why, did he reluctantly agree.

you stand as far away from wonbin as possible, putting on a melancholy act. shotaro is the first to take notice of this, putting a hand on your shoulder. “did you tell him?” he questions, your silence serving as an answer in itself. eunseok overhears, looking at you with pity in his eyes.

when anton finally sees the distance put between you and wonbin, he concludes that you weren’t able to tell him about your feelings. he sighs, shaking his head.

as if on cue, you look at wonbin with determination burning in your eyes, beginning to advance towards him. the group is silent as they watch the two of you curiously.

“dark star,” you begin straightforwardly, “i’m in love with you.” wonbin tries concealing his laughter as he swiftly takes in the reactions of his friends. eunseok smiles knowingly while anton and shotaro are wide-eyed. seunghan wears an amused expression, sohee’s eyebrows are raised, and on top of it all, sungchan looks incredibly confused.

wonbin, keeping up the act, covers his mouth in mock astonishment. “did you guys hear that?” he turns to his friends, who are now all aware that they’re being pranked. “my girlfriend is in love with me!” wonbin beams, “metal blaze, i accept your confession.”

eunseok clicks his tongue, nodding. “metal blaze, that’s a good one,” he notes under his breath.

“alright, we get it,” anton groans, “it took you guys long enough.” he turns to you, unable to stop a smile from forming. “i hope you know i was never actually going to tell him myself. i only said that in hopes of scaring you into telling him.”

you nod, “eunseok told me that already. and it wasn’t me that confessed to wonbin— he confessed to me.” everyone is shocked at your comment, seunghan walking behind wonbin and giving him a congratulatory slap on the shoulder. you purposefully skip over the fact that you all but cried to wonbin immediately after said confession about how much you liked him in return, and he pinches your side.

“you know, when you guys disappeared, i made a bet with shotaro that you guys were probably making out somewhere,” eunseok adds, “he said you guys were probably just in the middle of the whole confessing thing. i owe him seven bucks now.” shotaro pats him on the back with false sympathy.

as the topic of conversation shifts to something else, sungchan’s jaw is still practically on the floor. he looks at the way wonbin has his arm around your shoulders, head practically buried in your neck. he can’t stop himself from blurting out his next words.

“has y/n had a crush on wonbin this entire time?!”

AUTHOR’S NOTE! congrats to u if u survived reading all that ohhh lord i promise i’ll make y/n less unbearable next time but for now u guys are just gonna have to find it in ur hearts to forgive me… also it’s 5am rn and idk if i hate this fic umm we’ll see if i regret posting this when i wake up tmr

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 731.

Well, after two long years of posting, I’m finally taking a break.

Thank you guys for everything for the past two years. It’s genuinely been so fun making daily doodles. But all good things must come to an end eventually. I’m tired.

What are the plans moving forward?

read below the cut if you’d like to know!!

Taking a break:

Life in general has been really rough lately. Tons of family drama, personal medical issues making it impossible to function some days, and my childhood dog recently passed away a few days after Christmas last year. So it was a real challenge to “keep up appearances” if you know what I mean.

I’ve said this plenty of times in the past already, however I’ll repeat it since there’s surprisingly a lot more new people that have followed since then. I’m taking a whole month off from posting entirely. So I won’t be active on Silksongeveryday until about March 14th. Why? Hopefully it’s obvious but posting daily content for two years straight really does something to you. I’ve grown tired of this blog just a little bit, and I feel stepping away from it for a month will help me reconnect. I still love the game and its community, and I’d hate for my disinterest in a single blog to ruin that. If a month long break could fix that then so be it.

I’m also taking a somewhat indefinite break from daily doodles. I WILL still be posting doodles occasionally every once in a while after I come back from my month long break. However I won’t be doing daily doodles.

So no daily doodles ever again?

There is only one condition that has to be met for me to return to daily doodles.

A Silksong release date is announced.

Which is…let’s face it, a release date might not happen any time soon. 6 years of near radio silence from TC? I’m not expecting much, especially not in a month.

But WHEN a release date is announced I’ll definitely return to daily doodles and do a sort of daily “countdown” until Silksong is officially out.

Will doodle requests still be open?

Yes! Even if I will no longer be doing daily posts I will still occasionally post every once in a while with doodles! So if there’s a specific doodle you’d like to request and you have an extra $1 hanging around, hornet doodle requests are open on my ko-fi!!

What about the current projects that were happening on Silksongeveryday?

I’m still working on them! Just as mentioned before, a lot of stuff happened irl so it’s kind of on the back burner.

For the Hornet Journal Series: I plan to post the remaining entries after I come back from my month long break. Whether I work on them during that month long break totally depends on how I’m feeling. But there may be a likely chance I work on a few here and there on my own time! But regardless, I do plan to finish this project. So no worries!

For Hornet’s Strange adventures: I know it’s been ages since this particular project finished on the blog. Development for the free game is slow going since I’m working on this project entirely by myself with a game engine I’ve never used before. Progress is being made but it’s unfortunately slow thanks for irl conflicts. But, just like the journal series, I do plan to finish this project so I promise it won’t be abandoned!! I just need a break first lol.

___________

I think that’s all I have to say?? But if anyone has any questions, asks are always open and I’m more than happy to answer just about anything!

Thanks again for the wonderful experience, it’s been an amazing journey with you guys <3

See you all in a month!!

[onehelluvafan]

Soo... anyone else notice this look from "Better Than Blitzo" right before he kissed Stolas?

Yeeaahhhh, quick question. What the fuck?! lol

It's the epitome of "blink and you miss it," taking up just two frames, which is a single illustration in Helluva Boss.

I actually spent two months making a 30 minute video on this that I uploaded to YouTube back in August. Unfortunately, my channel was taken down in the latest algorithm crawl, but if you’d like to watch it, here’s a link to it on Odysee and BitChute.

Otherwise, buckle up while I take us on a journey ✨ I have three basic ideas I'll be delving into, split into three posts:

Part One: His tattoo—what it is, what it means, and what (or who) it could be linked to.

Part Two: Verosika—how and why she could have orchestrated things.

Part Three: Just an ex??—what his personal motivations could be for taking the time to check if Blitz is watching before kissing Stolas.

Keep reading to dive into Part One!

Before we dive in, just a quick heads-up that I will not be referring to this Incubus as “Better Than Blitzo.” Partly because it’s kind of long but mostly I just really like the nickname I’ve given him, which is: “IncuBlitz.”

IncuBlitz Part One: His Tattoo

I’ll start things off with the tattoo on IncuBlitz’s arm and its possible significance.

Because this thing is strikingly similar to Stolas’ crest, leading a lot of us to wonder—Is IncuBlitz some sort of Stolas stalker?  Or does he work for someone in the Ars Goetia who has a similar crest?

In both cases, I think the barometer is going to be how similar his tattoo is to Stolas’ crest, but I’ll go into a little more detail on why he might be working for another Goetia and who it could be.

I think Aldreaphus, Stolas’ brother-in-law, would be the most likely candidate in this scenario, considering that we’ve already been introduced to him and his manipulative nature. 

In Western Energy, we see him convince Stella to call off the hit on Stolas so that they can wait for, and possibly even create, an opportunity to take advantage of him later—be it for his position, wealth, power, or all three.

Even more compelling, we see what appears to be an attack or takeover by Aldreaphus at Stolas’ palace in the trailer for the second half of season two.

It’s been theorized that he may be hoping to take over Stolas’ position partially because in mythology, he’s actually already known to be an astronomer. 

This would obviously overlap nicely with Stolas’ duties, which would make him a prime candidate to take over his position—be it temporarily until Octavia has finished her training, or perhaps even permanently depending on what he’s capable of and willing to do.

So far, we’ve only seen this brief glimpse of him in Western Energy, so we don’t know yet what his actual cannon position is in the Goetia family. The mythological Andrealphus is not associated with any sort of ice powers, so it’s possible that this is where any likeness between the two ends. 

But regardless of any previous knowledge or affinity for astrology, I can see Andrealphus being interested in Stolas’ status and position. Whether it’s to have for himself, or to get close to Octavia so that he can take advantage of his influence with her in the future.

So, in this theory, IncuBlitz would have been strategically placed to get information from Stolas, keep tabs on him, manipulate him, and possibly even to further drive a wedge between Stolas and Blitz.

For any other Goetia, the desire to keep Stolas and Blitz apart could just be for appearances and maintaining the social structure that they’ve put into place. 

But if Andrealphus is his employer, I think he would have a different reason to keep them apart. And that’s to keep Stolas from having someone who can protect him.

Because if he knows anything about either attempt by Striker to assassinate Stolas, then he would be aware that in both cases, Blitz or someone under Blitz’s employ, intervened. 

The first time, they completely stopped him, causing the assassination attempt to be a failure, which resulted in Striker having to actually flee. 

Then, during the second attempt, despite it being called off by Stella, Moxxie and Millie’s intervention did prevent Striker from bringing Stolas to Stella and Andrealphus, which is what her explicit instructions to him had been.

Now that I’ve covered how a Goetia could be involved, let’s move on to what I personally believe to be the determining factor for both aspects:

How similar is IncuBlitz’s tattoo to Stolas’ Crest?

Because if IncuBlitz is actually a stalker, we would expect the tattoo to be as close to Stolas’ crest as possible. And if it belongs to someone else in the Ars Goetia, that implies that Geotic crests, in general, would all have at least a heart in common.

So far, the only crest we’ve seen that we know to be associated with the Geotia family belongs to Stolas. Considering that we’ve only ever seen his crest displayed within his own palace, I’d say that, at best, it’s unclear whether other demon royalty also have similar, heart-themed crests.

But let’s explore that a bit. 

The seals that we’ve seen so far, belonging to several Sins, Paimon, and Stolas himself, all seem to have the same basic structure.

This could lend credence to the idea that other Goetian royalty could also have a similar crest to Stolas. But personally, I don’t think it’s likely.

Mostly because Stolas’ crest seems to reflect him personally. From the tip of his five-pointed crown down to his cloak and neck accessory.

We haven’t seen much of Aldreaphus’ castle, but in the room that is shown, there does not appear to be anything present that resembles a heart.

In fact, we don’t actually know yet if Aldreaphus is canonically a marquee in the Hellaverse, the way he is in mythology. So it’s possible that he doesn’t have a crest at all if those are limited to the upper ranks of royalty. But if he does have a crest, I think it’s the snowflake that’s depicted on his chest and plateware.

At first, I thought his crown being shorter than Stolas’ and only having 3 points was an indicator of lower status. Especially considering that we see Stella, Octavia, and Baby Stolas with similar crowns.

But after realizing that Paimon’s also only has 3 points, I dug a little deeper and found this.

Apparently, there is something called a Celestial Crown that has five points, which are usually depicted with a star on each tip. 

With Stolas’ job as a Goetia being to study the stars, it makes sense that his crown would be reflective of his line of work. 

Considering this, I don’t think Andrealphus’ ice-themed crown and possible crest give us enough information to determine whether he is or is not a marquee.

But either way, there doesn’t appear to be any evidence to support the theory that IncuBlitz’s tattoo is reflective of a connection to himself.

Now, let’s take a look at the tattoo and compare it directly to Stolas’ crest.

One thing I noticed was that even though it doesn't look like his normal crown, he is wearing a crown that looks similar to the tattoo, both as a child and at this particular party as an adult.

I went back and scrubbed through footage of the entire show, trying to find any other instances of this kind of tattoo or imagery.

While Verosika and Millie both have heart tattoos like the one on IncuBlitz’s lower back, the closest thing I could find to the tattoo on his arm is the door to the prototypes at Ozzie’s.

This has led me to believe that it might truly just be a heart with a cupid’s arrow pointing down. Though it does look a little odd with the additional v-shape between the arrowhead and the bottom of the heart. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to represent a bow or is just a stylistic choice, but, interestingly, the heart on the back of the romance novel that Stolas is reading at the beginning of this episode does have something similar going on.

So, in the end, I think his tattoo might genuinely just be symbolism. An indication that he’s a kindred ‘romantic’ spirit, maybe who also wears his heart on his sleeve; Or even simply that he’s just not afraid of love and romance the way that Blitz is. If so, perhaps it’s intended to be another implication of why he is “Better Than Blitzo.”

Click here for Part Two: Verosika

[bleedinwidow]

hiii guys.. long time no see..

!!! : NSFW/SMUT, art donaldson x reader, fem!reader, fingering, car shit i think idk, 2019/new rochelle art

wc; aprx. 950

an; i’ve never actually posted proper smut before and i’m kinda shameful LOL. is that normal for the first time posting? perhaps i’ll post enough to get used to it. hope this isn’t too crappy. also this isn’t necessarily proofread so my bad

You can’t help it.

Driving home with Art post-date night had your mind running wild. Sat in the passengers seat in your little tight dress, thighs pressed close together and your hands in your lap, fingers intertwined with a grip so harsh your knuckles turned white.

Your eyes were only on one thing — Art’s hands holding that fucking steering wheel. Years of tennis practise, holding the racket with a tight grip, working each and every muscle in his long fingers; it really, really paid off. He must’ve noticed about halfway through the ride, because that’s when he started drumming them against the wheel every now and then or flexing them, but not even a glance your way.

Your bottom lip juts out, your head lolling against the car window, lifting with each small bump. Art glances towards you, then into the road and back to you again. He reaches out a hand and places it on your thigh; you flinch, and he pretends not to notice. “You all good?” He asks, his voice soft.

You want to scoff. You almost do. But you bite your tongue and nod, staring his hand down with both irritation and utmost desire. It’s just not fair. You’re seconds away from behaving like a petulant child, stomping and kicking and crying until Art shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up.

Anyway.

The car ride back to yours and Art’s apartment drags on. The low hum of the radio does a little bit of good to distract you from your thoughts, but they linger in the back of your mind nonetheless. What a burden. You plot as you wait to arrive at your destination. Lily’s with Tashi this week — hence your date night — so there’s no need to worry about that, and you’re sure you can somehow convince (cough, seduce) Art into giving you what you want.

Pulling into the apartment lobby’s parking, Art stops the car and turns his attention towards you with a gentle smile. “We’re here,” he states, rather obviously, but it’s something sweet about him you find charming. You don’t smile back though, no; you pout, and his instantly fades into a look of concern. You hate that you can’t tell whether it’s feigned or not.

“What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” He questions, undoing his seatbelt to face his body more towards you, reaching a hand out to cup the side of your face. His thumb strokes against your cheek in a delicate manner. You half-grumble, half-whine, and a fond smile curls up at the corners of his lips.

You take his hand, the one holding your face, and guide it to your mouth. You kiss the centre of his palm, your own pressed against the back of his hand as you intertwine your fingers with his. You shuffle, climbing over into the backseat and Art watches, until he’s ultimately tugged there with you and seated beside you.

“Baby? What’s—,” before he can finish, he’s interrupted by the surprise that consumes him as his hand’s guided beneath your dress and against the heat between your legs, the fabric of your underwear a lot damper than he had imagined. His lips part slightly, his tongue running over them to hydrate them, watching his hand disappear beneath your clothing.

“Please? You’ve been teasing me,” you beg softly, and your thighs close around his hand, trapping it there. His eyes flicker between yours and his hand, contemplating, and before either of you know it, the pads of his fingers are rubbing firm strokes against you from over your clothing. You squirm, your unoccupied arm wrapping around his, bringing it to your chest as his hand works against you.

Art slides the fabric to the side, and he’s instantly met with the slick of your pussy. You bury your face into his inner elbow with what could be considered a silent whimper, hips bucking faintly. He watches your face closely as his finger glides through your folds, watching for any change of expression, whether it be the scrunching of your nose or the screwing up of your face.

He decides to delay the teasing; you’ve waited enough. His middle finger feels for your clit, pressing down against it once he finds it. He watches as your hips buck, then begins to draw circles against it. Each puff of breath and small sound that escapes from your lips eggs him on further, and he can’t help but rush.

His finger moves quicker as you squirm more and your noises grow louder, legs writhing and grip around his arm tighter. He can’t help but shuffle closer to you to get a better angle, rubbing against the bundle of nerves eagerly, watching your reactions with fascination.

Each twitch of your legs signifies just how worked up you are, and you’re almost embarrassed how quick you’re about to come — you would be, if you weren’t so consumed by pleasure right now.

“Sh—it, Art—,” are the babbles that pass through your lips as you peak, back arching and body writhing. He slows his movements to guide you to come down, keeping his hand idle but still between your legs. He leans in to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw.

“Feel better?”

[communistkenobi]

I'm curious how you stomach going thru Tom Cruise's entire filmography when he's such a massive piece of shit. Like I feel like I'd just be thinking about all the women in films he has costarred in and abused beyond reason the entire time.....

I’m going to step very slowly into a minefield so please bear with me:

I don’t find that approach to art particularly helpful or interesting most of the time, and even if you do (which I don’t begrudge you for) I don’t think anyone has a principled stance on the matter, which would prohibit you from watching any film ever made, because the production of film under the current economic and social conditions of the world is itself unjust. Perhaps this is a lazy cop-out - if the moving image is evil then all actions vis a vis said moving image are equally damnable and therefore equally permissible. However, everyone carves out exceptions for what they can stomach (MY favourite celebrity would never do that) or cannot stomach (see: depp, jkr), myself included. And that’s not even getting into the actual issues of the content of the art itself. iirc Tony Gilroy scabbed during the writers strike to finish the Andor S2 script and I still watch it and enjoy it! I am also glad they fired Gina Carrano from the Mandalorian for her transphobia and white supremacy meltdown on twitter, and her character on that show is permanently ruined for me now because of it. I will not be able to enjoy anything involving Noah Schnapp as a direct result of his Zionist views. And so on.

An anecdote I always liked that I heard from a prof is his explanation of what a social position is: once a music band reaches sufficient fame, one of the members will inevitably sexually assault someone. So this might sound overly cavalier, but I don’t care to litigate the moral character of Tom Cruise or figure out exactly what he did or did not do (I’m not familiar with the abuse allegations you mentioned), nor do I care to do that with most celebrities, because that would mean accepting the assumption that doing so will give you an answer as to whether you should continue enjoying their work. I don’t generally find this assumption helpful for how I interact with art, nor does it give me the answer I want - which is always, inevitably, no I should not enjoy this, because accruing that much wealth and fame is unjust regardless of who they are or how hard they worked or their talents as an artist or etc., and this injustice structurally produces abuse (#MeToo is a response to this structure). Like the fact that celebrities exist as a social position is itself a problem lol. 

Now does this mean you can engage in celebrity worship, free of any guilt? Again I don’t know if this is a productive question, or if the answers it gives you will be helpful. I find it generally distasteful, but I likewise engage in celebrity parasociality - I watch Tom Cruise press interviews! I enjoy hearing his little stunt anecdotes and it’s not just because they’re interesting, I find him charming and fun to listen to. And we all had a great time when Pedro Pascal was posting the word socialism on twitter. The examples are infinite.

And maybe this is all just motivated reasoning (I don’t want to consider myself a bad person, etc) to let myself off the hook, but it would be effectively the same critique as like, consuming the MCU despite its deep ties to the US military or what have you. Which again, I have engaged in this argument on this blog, and will almost certainly engage in it again! I will mock anyone who still likes Harry Potter on both moral grounds (JKR is abominable) and aesthetic ones (you have dogshit taste). I am also not principled in this regard. You can call me a hypocrite and I’ll agree with you. But I find a lot of movies ideologically despicable (see: Top Gun) or made by awful people (see: Kubrick) and still really enjoy them. This is not a contradiction for me because I (generally) do not operate under the assumption that my engagement with art first requires me to figure out if the artists are good people or not.

And a lot this is adjacent to the point you’re making, and is a strain of discourse I’m anticipating in this response, so maybe this all sounds off topic or overly defensive, but this leads into the broader discussions surrounding the politics of like, ‘moral consumption’ and using the quality of the moral character of an artistic object or artist as a guide for what you should buy into. your mileage will ultimately vary, including my own. and personally I’m really enjoying Mr Tom Cruise!

[matcha-milkies]

LOVE? ACTUALLY?

Summary: In which Mabel and Ford are both aromantic, and neither of them has the vocabulary to express it.

A sequel to “Well, You Did Ask.”

Relationships: Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (Mentioned), Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines (Mentioned)

Tags: Humor, Family Bonding, Past Relationships, Advice

Word Count: 1,584

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I once saw a post talking about how Mabel could be aromantic because she seems really in love with the idea of being in love and picks a lot of random people to have crushes on, and as an aro person that felt SCARILY familiar lol so here you go.

Ford is aro gay <3

“Ugh.” Mabel draped herself over the arm of the couch like a piece of laundry, stomach down, long hair flopping. “I can’t believe I’m 15 and still single! I’m never gonna get a long-term boyfriend!”

Ford, who had been preparing himself tea in the kitchen nearby, poked his head into the room, as though to ascertain whether his great niece was talking to him. They were the only two in the shack right now, aside from Waddles, so it was a 50-50 chance. 

Well, maybe 25-75. In Waddles’s favor.

“Grunkle Ford,” she lifted herself a little and drew back the curtain of her hair so that her eyes peeked through, “when did you first get serious with someone?”

Despite being addressed directly, Ford still glanced over his shoulder to make sure there wasn’t anyone behind him, perhaps some alternate-dimension Stanford Pines who was better equipped to answer such a question. “Serious?” He tugged at the collar of his sweater as obscenely equilateral imagery flashed across the backs of his eyelids. “W-Well, I suppose it depends on what you define as serious.”

“I dunno, I guess it’s serious when you both agree it’s serious?” She frowned at the ceiling helplessly before slumping back over the arm of the couch. Her voice came out muffled. “I wouldn’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever been in a serious relationship.”

Tea in hand, Ford stepped more fully into the room, looking about as comfortable as he’d been at his first college party (he’d been dragged there against his will, obviously). Come on, Ford. A few sage words from her great uncle. That’s all she’s asking for. A few times, he opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. Luckily, conversations with Mabel did not require much input from the second party.

“I mean, Dipper is dating Pacifica! For a whole year now! I can’t believe he beat me! How does that even happen?”

Ford chuckled a little to himself, remembering high school, when Stan had teased him for having a girlfriend before Ford did. “Well, Mabel, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone goes at their own pace.”

“Urgh! But I want a boyfriend now! I don’t wanna waaaaaait.” She kicked her feet in agitation. “Is it so much to ask? To have someone in my life who makes me feel special?”

Ford knit his brows and seated himself at the nearby table, setting his mug down. “I understand your frustration, but, Mabel, I…” The man rested his head on his hand for a few moments, contemplating how best to put it. “I fear you’re looking at this all the wrong way.”

She peered up at him, leery. “What do you mean?”

He stirred the metal spoon in his tea, lazily winding it around the ceramic rim. “If all you’re looking for is someone to make you feel special… I worry you might end up with someone who doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

“Oh, Grunkle Ford, I’ll be fine.”

He had started talking before she even finished her last word. “I’m serious. You have to be careful who you give yourself to. You become so desperate not to feel alone that you-you rush into things blindly, without thinking, without stopping to consider the ulterior motives your partner might have, and before you know it—”

“Hey! I don’t do any of those things,” Mabel protested, even though she very much did do all of those things in that exact order, and also even though Ford had not been talking about her.

“My- My point is,” he went on, taking a steadying breath, “you shouldn’t settle for less. One way or another, you’ll find special people to be in your life. I know it’s not quite what you’re looking for, but you’ve already got a wonderful brother.”

Mabel flopped onto her back and stretched the skin beneath her eye in distress. “But what if he marries Pacifica and I barely see him anymore? I’ll have nobody!”

“Dipper cares for you very deeply, Mabel. I doubt the two of you will ever drift apart.”

“Mmmmm,” Mabel groaned.

“But let’s say hypothetically you did,” Ford proposed. “You’d still have me and Stanley. You’d have your friends, your parents. Waddles, of course. And any number of new friends that you’re going to make in the coming years. I of all people can’t guarantee that relationships won’t fall to pieces. What I do know is that there’s always someone waiting for you on the other side, if you’re willing to let them in.”

“Aww… I guess that is kind of sweet.” She finally rearranged herself so that she was sitting normally. “Say, Grunkle Ford, you never told me about your first serious relationship.”

“I- Oh, you don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes I do! Come ooooon, I’m so bored! Storytime! Storytime!”

“W- I- Um.”

“Wait.” Mabel narrowed her eyes. “You’re getting all weird the way Dipper does when he has something embarrassing to hide!”

“Mabel, don’t be ridiculous. It’s just not that interesting.”

“What’s not that interesting?” asked a gruff voice from the next room over. A few seconds later, its owner popped in carrying what looked to be groceries in his arm, mostly snacks, fruits and drinks.

“Grunkle Stan! We were just talking about Grunkle Ford’s love life.” She clasped her hands together and batted her lashes.

“What?” Stan raised his brows as he set down his paper bag on the table. “You told her about Bill?”

Ford got up from his chair fully with the intent to commit fratricide. 

“WHAT!” Mabel exploded. “GRUNKLE FORD?!” She glommed onto his leg and anchored him to the ground before he could give chase. Stan wisely moved over to the fridge to look for a few beers. “WHAAAAAT?!”

Ford tried to drag her along. “Mabel! Aren’t you getting a little old to be doing this?”

“No!” She looked up at him with wide, sparkling eyes. “Now tell me everything! Everything! EVERYTHING!” She shook his leg with violence.

Stan popped a couple of bottle caps and extended one of the bottles towards his brother in gesture. “Sixer, if I come over there to give you this, you gotta promise not to try to wring my neck.”

“I can make no such promise, Stanley.”

“Okaaaay then.” Stan, ever the innovator, set the drink on the table instead and slid it over to Ford, who caught it before it could slide off the edge. He eyed it for a moment and then took a few long gulps.

“Mabel,” he sighed, glancing down to find that she was still staring up at him with puppy-dog eyes. “There’s not much to tell! He manipulated me and lied to me and then we blasted him out of Stan’s brain. The end.”

“No, no, no!” Mabel cried. “Tell me when you first realized you were falling in love with him!”

“F- Falling in—” Ford cleared his throat.

The truth was, he’d been “in love” with Bill, in a sense, from that very first moment. But that all made it sound so much more… romantic than it was. It was difficult to explain exactly what he had felt. It was intense, and it was an attraction, and at one point he might’ve thought it was love, but… “I… didn’t,” he finished lamely, as if he were just now realizing it himself.

“Come on, Grunkle Ford, the cat’s out of the bag now! You can’t lie to me anymore!”

“No, I… I really didn’t,” he went on, looking down at his empty hand. “We had a connection. A deep and intimate connection to one another. But I… I don’t think it was anything like what you’re imagining, Mabel.”

“Huh?” she blinked a few times. Even Stan seemed confused as he leaned back against the fridge.

“Hang on a second. Back on the boat you told me you were romantically involved. Those were your exact words.”

“Well, we… were?” Ford himself sounded perplexed, as though he were working out a Rubik’s Cube in real time. Of course, if this were a Rubik’s Cube he would’ve figured it out a lot faster. “At least, that’s what the understanding was at the time…”

“Uh… okay, you lost me.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t really explain it.”

“I think I get it,” Mabel said thoughtfully, and the two grunkles turned to look at her. “You thought you were in love, so you got into a relationship, but you weren’t really in love. But you still loved him. Just not in a lovey-dovey way.”

“I, uh… Well, yes… I think so,” Ford affirmed.

“Yeah, I get it. I think I did that with this guy in freshman year. We really connected, you know! But I realized I wasn’t… in love…” she finished softly, as though she were now the one deep in thought. She snapped out of it with a shrug. “Womp womp.”

“Well, there you have it,” said Stan after taking a particularly long swig. “Hey, Sixer, now all you gotta do is tell Dipper and you’ll be three for three.”

“Stanley, don’t even joke about that. I’m absolutely done talking about this.”

“Awww,” said Mabel, who had really been looking forward to squealing to her twin about it. “Double womp womp.”

“Now will you please detach from my leg?”

“Nope! We’re bonding, baby! Learning each other’s backstories and stuff! Mabel-Ford bonding time!” She threw up her hands like she was on a roller coaster, although her legs stayed wrapped around his ankle. “Woohoo!”

[kaliido-s]

Pinned Post

Hey hi I’m Kal and I draw things sometimes. I’m trying to become more active on tumblr and I figured I’d make a proper pinned post to organize my stuff and give a brief profile on myself

I’m agender, currently 17, and use he/him and she/her pronouns interchangeably. Please do not use they/them to refer to me. For random posts where I yap about my thoughts check the #kal thoughts tag. I’m autistic and post about my different hyperfixations and interests, including…

Godzilla, Undertale/Deltarune, Predator, Transformers, Planet of the Apes, Wings of Fire, and palaeontology and the natural world. If there’s a neat, potentially sapient creature in it, chances are I’ll like it. While I may reblog WoF content, I have largely grown out of my interest in the series, so please don’t follow me for WoF art, as they will likely be once in a blue moon. On the other hand, Godzilla and kaiju are what I post about most often, whether it’s about the canon media or my own fangoji story, Godzilla Rekindled. You can find posts about it through its own tag #godzilla rekindled, feel free to ask me questions because I love yapping!!! :)

(Pictured: Gojira and Gojirin, who make me want to walk into oncoming traffic. I’m trying to post about them more frequently because I spend too much time yapping on discord instead.)

My Socials

Twitter - Unfortunately most active here, the site is really becoming a pain for me so I’m making the effort to be on tumblr more often

Toyhouse - Read my yaps boy

YouTube - Inactive, unless…? (I plan to post some stuff here when I finish them, I used to animate a lot and you can look at it if you wish. Been trying to slowly get out of my burnout)

Archive of our Own - Read my Kongzilla fic #meeting halfway if you want… I’ll write the last two chapters eventually lol (4/6 chapters are done if you just found this out now I am so sorry I forgot to update tumblr 💔)

Discord - Kaliido_scope, dm me if we’re close

Art Info

Commissions? At the moment I only take commissions for Discord Nitro as it’s my only method of compensation. I usually do this for friends or people within certain discord servers, so for public comms, the answer is effectively no. The same can be said for art trades. Art requests are closed unless I say otherwise.

I use IbisPaintX to draw, Alight Motion to edit, and Flipaclip on the rare occasion I animate. Do I recommend these apps? Not really! I’m just stubborn and like sitting through ads and not paying for things.

That’s all the info you need to know, thank you!

(scribble of my silly dog sona by my buddy @corvidcaws )

[fir-fireweed]

Hi!! I think this question would seem boring but, what are the ROs first impression of the MC? And what do they think of MC now? ( SRRY FOR THE ENGLISH (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) )

btw, I just finished ( and totally didnt replay it 3 times ) Viatica and I absolutely love it!! ^^

Hello! I’m so glad you enjoyed (and replayed) Viatica, thank you! And that’s not a boring question at all. It’s actually pretty thoughtful and I had to think on it a bit before responding. The question of what they think of your MC now is a little trickier because it depends on your MC’s persona (and, of course, whether you’re romancing them) so I’ll answer from a broad, friendly perspective.

Lion was amused and intrigued by the MC. He found you to be courageous and spirited for speaking up and he wanted to speak more with you, but he’s also very cautious and deliberate in his actions. Now, he trusts and admires the MC greatly.

Heron honestly didn’t think much of you; I don’t mean that in a bad way, but that he literally forced himself not to think of you. He found the MC to be odd and unique, and uniqueness is not a good thing when you’re striving to be the perfect worker. Now, he’s happy to be reunited with MC. If you’re not on his route, he thinks of the MC as a close sibling.

Robin’s first impression was that the MC was kind, and kindness is something you don’t find in The City. They were equal parts wary and awestruck at MC’s bravery and gumption. Now, they’re grateful to the MC and happy to follow your lead.

Ferret’s first first impression of MC was that they were an idiot, lol. Remember how you messed up in the clinic. ;) She dislikes the MC, at first, but it stems from her own frustrations. Ferret hates being a silent worker with no control over her life. She’s jealous of the MC’s freedom and ability to interact with others and the world in a way she can’t. But now she thinks of the MC as an equal, a partner.

I hope that answered your questions, and I appreciate the ask!

[noellesticks]

Ermm so, kinda a part two to my last post, I’m gonna share some things that I believe helped me enter the void

Disclaimer: this shit might not work for you!! Take everything I saw with a grain of salt and figure out your own stuff

Anyway

1. Support

So, as I’ve mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I introduced my friend to loa, and I’m convinced that aforementioned friend has helped me get into the void one way or another, multiple times. Whether they’ve manifested me entering or not, or it was just their words of encouragement/affirmation, I always feel better and more motivated after talking to them. Yam, if you’re reading this, I LOVE YOU!!!!

2. Religion

I haven’t assigned myself to a certain religion, but, as of right now, I worship the Greek deities Aphrodite and Apollo. This is sort of in the same vain as #1, but I’ll pray to ask for their support and help in entering the void and it’s probably the same thing where I’m like “hell yeah, I got the gods on my side” and then that confidence helps me into the void. Either way, I think just… believing that someone is potentially out there to help guide you has really aided in giving me the final push.

3. (One Specific) Subliminal

I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before, but I listen to the ‘Let Go Void State’ Subliminal (lt won’t let me link it) and it’s the only one I’ve been using for about a year now, cause I’ve woken in the void while using it multiple times. I highly suggest it. (I’m listening to it right now, wink wink)

4. Simple Affirmations

‘I am pure consciousness’ and affirmations like that never worked for me. I don’t know why, I guess it’s always just felt… complicated? I know if I say it enough it’ll rewire my mind, but I’ve proven to myself that I don’t need to go through the hassle time and time again lol. The ones I use the most are “I’ll wake up in the void state aware”/“I ALWAYS wake up in the void”. I find what really helped me is having the affirmations in verbiage I’d normally use. Like, I’ll be trying not to giggle because I’ll be repeating ‘I witewally (literally) wake up in the void every night’ in my head again and again. I personally find it more helpful than robotic affirmations, even if there is science behind the robotic route.

Another thing that I started without even thinking about was affirming everyday ‘I WILL enter the void tonight, trust’. I think the repetition aspect is really helpful in fixing my brain and has defiantly made me have a better mindset about the void. Like, yeah, entering the void IS that easy. I’ve since changed the affirmation to “I literally enter the void every night” cause it just feels better, but, y’know

5. Success Stories

I know people love to say to get off social media and… yeah. I mean, it’s bad in general and I doubt it’s helping you with the void (that much), but whatever. I LOVE to see what other people have manifested with the void (or in gen), I just find it so motivational. Though most of the time my desires aren’t represented in these success stories, I always finish them feeling like “if they can do it, why can’t I?” And then, boom, I enter the void that night—or, at the least, get extremely close. Plus, it’s always awesome to see people get so happy about what they manifested. Like, yes!!! You DID manifest your dream life just because you felt like it! Augh, please, if you’re reading this and you’ve manifested ANYTHING—void or not, proof or not—TELL ME!! Dm me or share in my asks box!! This page is mostly reposts of shit I find helpful, and I clearly find success stories helpful lmao

Uhm, I think this is all for now. I hope this was helpful at all to anyone, even if it was just motivational. If you have any questions or stories to share, my ask box is always open and I’d love to hear and help!!

-🌷

[junhuiste]

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude 

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him. 

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.” 

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class. 

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook. 

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours. 

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class. 

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it. 

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?” 

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair. 

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies. 

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours. 

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner. 

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway. 

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him. 

It’s so over. 

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…” 

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame. 

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week. 

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit. 

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed. 

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder. 

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking. 

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights. 

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates. 

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”

[writella]

In the Meadow

So I meant to start + post a Daryl fic (and it’s 50% there, I’ll finish it soon!!) but I was just obsessed with Rick and the reader in their little spot in the meadow in Moments Behind His Eyes, and I wanted to write another story in that setting. I was actually trying to keep it ‘porn, no plot’ lol but then I added a bit of plot, one day I’ll try to keep it super short, I promise!! But what I added is fun.. at least I think lol!! You can read it as a prequel to mbhe or not if you don’t want to picture the age gap dynamic that is in this fic, your choice. c:

Rick x fem!reader, age gap relationship (reader is in her 20s), Alexandria era, smut / 18+ (I marked the area with a heart where it starts and then three hearts when it really starts to get serious), oh and one use of the word “daddy.” This is my second fic and I would love to hear some feedback, so please comment or make an ask on my blog about it or about twd, rick, or daryl related things or literally anything about whatever you’d like— you would make my day. ♡

You hate to admit it, but you still felt uncomfortable having sex with Rick at home. It’s ironic how becoming the woman of the house accidentally made you more promiscuous than you ever were before. You were unbuttoning his shirt and he was taking off your pants under the sun, above the grass, in a meadow— a MEADOW, near water, that literally anyone could walk into.

Well, that was not exactly true. In probability it was— you were outside— but in actuality, almost no one visited this slice of heaven you and Rick called your spot.

“Have you been near the meadow today?” Rick, in this variation or another, would ask on occasion. “I saw a pretty little flower growing there this morning.” His smile was sweet, but you knew better. “It was your favorite color,” there was mischief in his eyes as he shrugged nonchalantly, “reminded me of you.”

It was typical that if he added some detail or new observation about the meadow, whether it was made up or not, that he wanted you. Now.

It was exciting, but also reassuring that you had a place like this to call your own. Having a gorgeous house was a luxury you would never take for granted, but Rick’s house was almost like an hq. You were pretty sure Daryl’s spot was in the garage or basement. You didn’t bother asking if that’s what he considered his room, or rooms, or not. Daryl was always welcomed, no questions asked, and no need for him to get self conscious about his ways— you loved him. And you were also pretty sure he slept outside sometimes, just because it’s what felt natural, or on Carol’s sofa, and who knows where else. He didn’t say and no one asked. And as for everyone else, especially those of the pre-Alexandria group, coming by unannounced, asking Rick questions, or sitting for a cup of coffee was common. You guys even had small meetings there. To say the least, this home wasn’t always a private one, and you did like that, that the place you lived in was a safe meeting area for others, but as your relationship with Rick advanced, slowly moving from this unspoken partnership to a more outwardly romantic one, you enjoyed having an area that felt like no one was watching.

You were a little younger than Rick. Maybe a little too much younger if you asked some. It was only a little more than nearing toward a decade into this new world, yet you still had your before brain. If this was then, you knew there would be family members who absolutely would not approve. He was the father of a teenager after all. But now, with your found family, you were one of the leaders in Alexandria. You were even a part of the group before Alexandria. Searching for a home, out in the wild for what felt like well over half a year. Surviving a hardship like that brings people together, shows them their strengths, their resilience. Everyone was an equal. And you pulled your weight more than you ever imagined of yourself, as both a fighter and friend.

It’s part of what made Rick captivated by you. You were strong, and more than capable of holding your own, but so endearingly kind. You weren’t a natural at anything, but a quick learner well enough who always had interesting stories to tell. Only you could make a seemingly basic tale about how you got lost on your way to a concert sound so entertaining. You still had the beauty of the past in you. You loved to read and write and you missed watching movies, but you never minded retelling what you remembered of the plot from one of the groups favorite films to lighten the mood on another sleepless night where you hadn’t found a home yet. And in the day, when it was time to scavenge or kill the walkers on your trails, you were always prepared to do your part as best as you could. Following example of how to use a gun or your knife. Daryl even taught you how to use his bow, and no one touches his bow. But you liked making a special, intimate connection with everyone, so becoming close to each member came naturally to you. It was individual to you and that person of course— your gentleness and lighthearted charm was truly your own— but in a way, they trusted you like they trusted Rick. Without realizing it was this precisely, he felt an unspoken connection to you because of it.

You felt it too. He always gave credit to his group when it was due, never down playing their strengths or intelligence, so hearing a quick compliment about your ‘good work’ or him placing a hand on your shoulder, patting your back, or that one time he called you a ‘sweet girl’ because of the way you knew how to make Carl smile, wasn’t exactly uncommon— well maybe that last one— but nonetheless it doesn’t mean it didn’t touch the deepest parts of your heart every time you heard or felt it.

Honestly, you found it silly how obsessed you were with the littles things about him. You loved his beard, how his hair remained a rich brown, yet his facial hair was a mix of brown and grey and white, and how he looked stunning with any variation of it. You knew you would take him with it at its longest, but even with none at all. And his eyes, those potently colored blue eyes. The ones that had little crinkles that formed around the corners when he smiled, it made you wonder if that meant he smiled a lot before all of this. Those eyes reminded you of the sky and what could be. The future without fear or as close as you could get to it. You were inspired that someone who had taken control and fought against oppressors, didn’t become one himself. He always remains so deeply loving and even vulnerable at times. He could be untrusting, that’s true, but in the end, he was always ready to accept more people into his life or his community if they showed their humanity.

Thinking about the things you loved about Rick made you excited for a future with him, but then there was Carl whom you loved so deeply. It’s not that things were exactly secret, you knew that was true, but you still wondered how aspects of your relationship with him might change when kisses were openly exchanged at the breakfast table, or how it would look to everyone else if you held Rick’s hand more freely when people were around, maybe it a moment where you felt he needed it to remember you were there in times of stress.

Though it’s not like everyone isn’t aware of the fact that Rick doesn’t talk with, or take the advice of, or even argue at times with others the way he does with you. Rick respected his group, but it was no mystery that he respected you in a way you do with a significant other. Not to mention, you lived in his house for god’s sake; you called it ‘home’ when you referenced it.

You kept teetering with your thoughts, you liked your current home dynamic. You got to be Rick’s partner, everyone’s friend, plus you were also Carl’s confidant. You even liked to write him little stories, knowing how much he loved his old comics from your time at the prison. You’d call them ‘comic books but in word form,’ always handing them over to him excitedly.

“Comics have words,” he’d tease, but he always loved reading them, all of ‘em. He was obsessed. What you would call his ‘little emo boy soul’ would constantly ask if you could write something a little darker, but you couldn’t help but make the endings positive. In truth, writing them was an escape for yourself too. This obviously wasn’t the life you expected to live after all. But you also loved the Grimes’ and you couldn’t picture your life without them now. And you loved that ever since you moved to Alexandria and ever since the original clan started moving to their own respective houses, Rick never asked you to leave and Carl continually asked if you were around.

Your care for him danced over the fine line of being protective of him like a guardian, but always, more likely than not, engaging in conversation with him like an older sister. You liked that he trusted you to tell him things that he felt he couldn’t always casually talk to his father about. As endlessly giving as Rick is as a father, he was also a leader living in the aftermath of an apocalypse— he was a busy guy.

Although you give him the benefit of the doubt, your handsome and strong but obviously oblivious man, has yet to realize or at least acknowledge, that his own son has a girlfriend, or whatever Carl and Enid’s relationship was, you didn’t ask too many questions about the actual definition. From your time with Rick before Alexandria, you understood romantic friendships and blurred lines well enough. But you did know Enid’s favorite color, that she knew how to roller skate, and you even helped Carl make her a bracelet from a box of beads one cute little five year old girl in town lent to him.

-♡-

That’s why as you took quick breaths in between kisses, Rick’s tongue quickly peaking in and out of your mouth as your heads moved left to right and back again, he kissed you once more, slowly humming into the kiss, then letting go to ask, “When are we going to do this in our bed?”

Our bed. That’s the first time you heard him call it that.

Sure, the amount of times you’ve tiptoed to Rick’s door has increased as the weeks have gone by, but you still had your own room. As much as you liked how our bed sounds, is it bad that you still liked how things were? All your books were in there. And you liked when he surprised you in your room too.

“I think at this point you know Carl better than anyone, you don’t think he has eyes?”

“I’d say what we have has been undefined, but not discreet,” you reason. You take a beat, “I just want to be respectful.”

“I’m ready for you,” his words are firm and loving. “I don’t think anyone is going to worry. And if they do, they’re going to have to realize they’ve probably noticed all along.” Then a curious smile appears on his face, “And did we ever know how old Abraham was in comparison to Rosita?”

That made you giggle far too much, but it also surprised you and you could tell by the look on his face, it surprised him too. Rick was kind, and he could be smug, and liked to laugh but he wasn’t the joking type, especially about a lost loved one. It’s one of the first times he’s mentioned Abraham in the context of his life, not his death.

“I’m sure Abraham would have thought that was funny too.” You think for a moment, “Something like, ‘there ain’t enough donuts to choose from in this crumbled up box of life to stick your twinkie into. Beggars can’t be choosers. Fuck the plain or get none.’” You guys both share a look of shock and laughter at your terrible impression. Imperfectly derogatory for sure, but not quite the same as the bizarre but surprisingly understandable verbiage of the charismatic guy you used to know. “Rosita is like a strawberry with sprinkles, or a boston creme though. You know, something special; I was just saying whatever came to my head first,” you explain shyly, eyes away, still giggling.

Rick is hysterically speechless, the most confounding look on his face as he tries to process the fact that that pseudo-Abraham phrase came out of your mouth.

“I just didn’t want you to get sad.” Your voice is tender and sincere.

-♡ ♡ ♡-

He nods, acknowledging the gesture, saying softly, “Silly girl,” his thumb and pointer holding your chin. “My pretty girl.” He pecks you, but his lips go in between yours as he does, it feels so deep for something so quick. “My sweet girl.” Another kiss, and that fire builds in your heart again, you’ll never forget the first time he called you that and you’re never getting over how much you love it. “My sweet baby girl,” his voice is sultry, even though he says it low, it sounds thick and sharp opposed to his lips that feel warm and soft, though his beard scratches up against your skin as he kisses you once more, tongue going into your mouth.

When Rick kisses, it feels immersive. He’s the man who always has the right words to say, so when he can’t speak in a moment like this, all of the conviction he would display verbally, comes out orally by way of how his mouth feel against yours, it’s as if it touches every corner.

Closing your eyes as you lean in, it feels like sunbathing: there is a peace at the feeling of brightness and heat as your eyelids lower. It’s just like how everything about being with Rick feels right. You feel embarrassed to admit you might worship the man. You’d give in to anything he gave you.

You were already in his lap, but now your hips move closer to his own until there is no more space. Your knees are bent and your shoes are flat on the ground, helping you grind against him with more control. You push in, up and down, and his hands are on your lower back, nearing your ass helping you go faster.

Rick catches your lips and your tongues twist into one another. Your arms are over his shoulders, they’re straight and you have your hands crossed over the other. As you continue to rock, one of his hands slowly trails up your back, caressing your neck and then he pushes into your hair. It guides your head exactly the way he wants to kiss you, controlling it, every feeling making you moan into his mouth. Heaven really could be a place and it was your spot, in the meadow, where you and Rick loved and touched exactly how you wanted to.

Rick lets go of you completely and pushes his hands to the ground and slides back as best as he can, moving the two of you closer to a tree to support his back. You both push off your shoes, his shirt was discarded long ago, but now you undo his belt and he’s taking off your shirt.

He’s pulling his boxers down, his hardened cock springs up, and you notice a vein on the side, precum at the tip, you were this close to kissing it but then he pulls your underwear over to the left, not taking it off. You don’t question it because he’s quick with his movements, checking how wet you were with his fingers, despite there being an obviously large wet spot on the fabric, and then he pushes himself in, bottoming out immediately.

Your sigh is angelic, and his groan is guttural, it almost makes you moan again.

You rock against him, this time feeling so full and euphoric. You hadn’t had sex in the before time, but there was that one time where you did lose your virginity to a nice guy back at the prison, and then another time a year later when you decided to try again with someone else. It was fun, but meaningless. You didn’t think you’d be the one night stand type, at least not for your first times, but back then you sometimes felt like everyday was your last day, and as much as you always admired Rick, he was heavy in mourning in the early prison days, and you were trying to be a good friend by keeping your distance, talking to him platonically.

Alexandria was different though, you felt a new hope here. And then there were Rick’s more forward gestures, leading you to follow his new energy, and now you think he has probably ruined everyone else for you, not that there would be anyone else. Who else could there be now that Rick called you his?

You started to pump up and back down, bouncing happily. You were always the kind of person that was so worried about everyone else’s feelings, and as much as you smiled it wasn’t all the time that Rick saw you so carefree. So much so in fact you kept switching from bouncing to rocking, not knowing which you liked best, both feeling so good, “you just feel so big,” you admitted, stretching out the syllables, making him groan again.

It amused him too, laughing lightly as he opened his eyes, watching your face tilt, mouth agape, pants and quiet “ahs” coming out of you. Your eyes were closed, you looked as if you were in an amazing, intoxicating place.

He liked that this was a new way he got to know you that other people didn’t. You never admitted it, but he knew now that sometimes you like being on top. It made him chuckle, just watching you do as you pleased. He liked giving you what you wanted, but now he wanted to speed things up.

“Alright,” he said, kissing you quickly, “my turn.” He pulled you off and almost threw you to the ground. You thought nothing of it, all you did was take off your under garments in anticipation.

He was between your legs now, on his knees, staring at the glistening of your folds that was seeping just a bit at the bottom, the hand on your lower stomach, then your tits, noticing you had discarded your bra— you really were becoming dissolute, weren’t you? But really you were just absolutely drunk on Rick. Finally, he noticed your swollen lips and your teeth that softly bit down on your finger, your eyes entranced by the man above you, the sun creating a halo over his messy curls. “You really are my beautiful girl, aren’t you?”

You shook your head bashfully. “And you’re my handsome man.”

“Oh yeah?”

You hum, you meant it sweetly, but it comes out seductively.

He comes closer, “Does that mean you’re going to let me do exactly what I want?”

“Yes, daddy.” The phrase comes out without thinking, your eyes scrunch, your cheeks are roses, your hands cover your face, but Rick has the widest grin, pushing your hands off to meet your eyes.

“Okay,” he nodded curiously, eyes smiling wickedly now. “If that’s how you see it, baby girl.”

Then suddenly, your head was in between his hands, flat on the grass and he pushes in completely, no stopping. You felt entirely split open. There was no mercy here.

He noticed your eyes and nose scrunching up again at all the pain and pleasure. Your breaths kept coming out as quick and harsh pants, then he watched the tension release as he slowed down, moving his cock in and halfway out a bit, rocking his hips into it. Your pants turned into moaning sighs, and then he switched on you. Totally disrupting the system as he quickened up again. Your mouth opened wide. You tried your best not to shout his name, but nonetheless a loud, “Rick!” came out and your face tightened again.

“Let go,” you were squeezing his arms for dear life at this point, but you listened and released him, reaching for his back. His forearms laid on the grass now so you could put your arms over him. His balls were slapping against you as he went hard and deep, kissing your neck until he couldn’t hold in his grunts and moans that fell directly into your ear. The speed became almost unbearable as he said your name and then he came, but even after he did, his stamina never faltered.

He took your bent leg and placed it over his shoulder, and took the liberty to thumb your clit. Tight circles going fast, fast, fast. But he did make sure to slow down the pace, only a little for you, going in and out saying, “Your turn, pretty girl. You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you said desperately.

You two moaned in unison, thrusting up into each other, until Rick changed the position of his thrusts to curl up inside of you. It makes you drop your leg from his shoulder, digging into his back, “Right there.”

“Yeah, there it is,” he felt you close, he smiled knowing he’s got you exactly where you needed it, “You’re a sweet girl, you know that?” He looked at you when he said it but your eyes were closed. His words alone snapped the knot inside of you and took you over the edge. You felt it everywhere as he pumped vastly once again allowing you to ride your high, hand coming to your jaw, starting to lightly cover your neck as you did so, he did it without thinking and then let go.

Once you came down, he pulled out, putting your underwear and bra back on for you and taking his boxers. He laid flat on his back and pulled you over until you were on top of him.

His arms extended over you, you both laid in peaceful silence for a moment until he said your name, making you look up at him. He took one of his hands to fix your disheveled hair, running his fingers through it lightly. Your eyes doting as your fingers trailed his face in return. You really were his sweet, beautiful girl.

“Tonight,” he started, “After I put Judith down, I’m going to open my door and call out for Carl. I’m going to say goodnight to him and then I want you to come and stand with me by the door. Then you say goodnight too.” He was stern in tone, but gentle in sentiment. “It’s time.”

“Okay,” you responded obediently. “You’re right, it’s time.”

[ryuichirou]

Since my blog is mostly dedicated to twst for now, I’ll leave a couple of links and a very short FAQ related to it.

My carrd info

My ko-fi page for twst sketches that I won’t post at all or post after I share them there

My commission info

The most frequently asked questions are below (you can find most of this in my carrd):

For all titles and ships, please refer to this page. It's not finished yet, however.

So far we've watched for Twisted Wonderland: Prologue, Episodes 1-6, Halloween events (both), Glorious Masquerade, Port Fest, Camp Vargas (both), Wish Upon a Star, Beanfest, the Harveston event, Sam's New Year event (2022), Stage in Playful Land, White Rabbit Fest, Ghost Marriage, Lost in the Book with Stitch

To avoid repeating myself all the time, I'll have all of the twst characters as tops and bottoms (as we see them, obviously):

For Twisted Wonderland:

Tops: Ace, Trey, Cater, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd, Kalim, Rook, Ortho, Lilia, Sebek, Crewel, Crowley, Che’nya, Neige, Gidel, Skully.

Bottoms: Riddle, Deuce, Leona, Jamil, Vil, Epel, Idia, Silver, Malleus, Trein, Rollo, Fellow Honest.

We don't switch them and we don't ship two tops or two bottoms. We don't like switching and we don't entertain this idea, it doesn't interest us, without any exceptions, ever. Don't mention them to us in a shipping way, please.

(For Blue Lock, same rules as above:

Tops: Tops: Isagi, Reo, Zantetsu, Shidou, Yukimiya, Karasu, Gagamaru, Aiku, Tokimitsu, Naruhaya, Igaguri, Wanima bros, Nanase, Kunigami, Kaiser

Bottoms: Nagi, Rin, Sae, Chigiri, Bachira, Niko, Ego, Hiori, Barou, Aryu, Raichi, Kurona, Kiyora.)

If, for some reason, you want to know a little more about the logic or the principle behind this, here’s a couple of posts dedicated to the types that we like: the one where we talk about our favourite types of tops/bottoms and why it's so strict with us.

Our twst ships:

Our most favourite absolute alpha ships ever:

Azul/Idia

Ortho/Idia

Lilia/Idia

Jade/Idia

Floyd/Idia

Ships that we love:

Ace/Deuce

Trey/Riddle

Floyd/Riddle

Kalim/Jamil

Azul/Jamil

Rook/Vil

Sebek/Malleus

Sebek/Silver

Sebek/Idia

Lilia/Silver

Lilia/Malleus

Ships that we like:

Trey/Idia

Trey/Deuce

Ortho/Vil

Floyd/Vil

Floyd/Epel

Rook/Epel

Rook/Idia

Che’nya/Riddle

Crewel/Trein

Crewel/Deuce

Jack/Vil

Jack/Deuce

Ruggie/Jamil

Ruggie/Leona

Neige/Vil

Ace/Idia

Fukukaicho/Rollo

Gidel/Fellow

Mobs&Bosses/Fellow

All top characters from NRC/Fellow

We don’t have any Yuus/OCs related to twst.

Do not tag my art or headcanons as "x reader".

You can find full NSFW versions of my art either on my twitter or on bluesky. If you want to be notified about me posting this type of art, when I have a preview here, please make sure to check that your account settings allow you to see mature content.

I tend to say “we” instead of “I” because I want to include Katsu, who is my partner and also my best friend, as well as the author of all of our AUs + a person who gives me a lot of drawing ideas and helps me with drawings in general. We dive into stuff together and share a lot of thoughts, so I’m very used to including both of us into conversations. Katsu also helps me to run all of my social media pages, but I’m the one writing the replies and comments.

I'm very sorry if my reply can take up to a couple of months or more, especially if it's a headcanon post or something that is lengthy to write. I'm very slow at writing... But I'll get to them, I promise! You can ask me about them if you want to know whether I received those and you worry lol

I would also like you to refrain from sending me vaguely rude asks which can be considered such without any context or short asks that are hard to understand, once again, without any context. I must warn you that I'll most likely ignore them entirely.

Tags that might be interesting: #ryuichirouart ; #about drawing; #headcanons; #about characters ; #speedpaint