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#cats reaction to first snow
aceyanaheim · 2 years
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Listen if you have an enseemble of characters from every other state and they’re not constantly friendly dumping on each other and “what pray tell the fuck” about Things That You Only Get Used To When You Live In That State are you really writing em right
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beaversatemygrandma · 2 years
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Ik I’m just tooting my own horn here (sidenote: can we PLEASE talk about this saying. Why is it like that?) but holy shit my writing. I love how it goes from one character seeing a stray cat and being like ‘free cat’ and takes this feral fluffy creature into his home to massive destruction and trauma in like three pages.
#taks speaks#currently debating on a sweet scene with peace and snow and then suddenly the death of three minor characters#and one character basically losing the entirety of his life outside of his own life#like the only thing he doesn't lose is his wife (shes a main character he's actually secondary to her)#but he's gonna fuckin snap which is necessary for progression bc he's just too nice even tho everything around is shit#when his wife is just there ready to burn down the fucking world even before this whole event#*btw the cat lives the cat is in another place entirely at that time*#*he's still there to bite people dw*#omg but i've been thinking for so damn long as to how to get the two domesticated characters back into the story#and i think this is it#like *this scene is boring* *wow a child* *aaaaannnd kill it off. not working.*#along with taking away this guy's house. aunt. dog. life savings...#i mean he IS the only one who didn't lose EVERYTHING at the start of this whole thing#might as well level the playing field#his wife will definitely have a less drastic reaction. not her first rodeo.#still pretty drastic tho bc he was her ticket back to normalcy even if it led to a boring domesticated life#im sorry but those two can finally be happy later. some shit has to happen first.#i gotta trigger somebody's fight responses even tho 99% of the time he doesn't even trigger flight. it's freeze. boy needs some fight.#his girl already has it. her response to having a child was going back to her destroyed childhood home and burning it down#with her pyro ex bf who gives her a whole motivational speech to keep going while continuing to give her molotovs#he's a *great* influence#*if my characters don't have a sliver of chaotic energy then whats the point*#*SOMEBODY has to change the lawful good guy and I GUESS I'm doing it*#*looks back at their alignments*#we've got a chaotic evil. chaotic neutral x2. true neutral. lawful neutral. chaotic good. and the one lawful good.#and he's married to a chaotic neutral.#how does that even work? it does. this guy is just going to struggle with morality for a while#like most of these characters have a human kill count. except one who'd never be guessed. and obviously. this lawful good.#and he's about to get a tally#the one who somehow hasn't even tho with his character card you'd assume he'd have one. he won't. he's in his redemption arc
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volensnolenss · 4 months
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Jealous
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𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Only your charms can melt his heart and remove the influence of jealousy; 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: sfw! fluff, he calls you ‘my love’, ‘sweetheart’, mention of a possible child
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“My love, meet me!”
Gojo burst into the warm house with a noise and a bright flame of fun, but he did not receive your usual hug and kiss. He threw off his coat in confusion, listening to the silence and looking for at least someone's presence in it.
“Satoru, we're here.” Your gentle voice came from the living room, and he immediately went to you when he saw your sleeping cat on you. Gojo narrowed his eyes and approached you with a drop of contempt, asking a question with his eyes.
“That is, because of her, I lost everything.”
Approaching the cat, Gojo wrinkled his nose and sneezed, making her jump in fear.
With one hand you gently removed the fluff from his face, with the other you stroked the cat with soothing movements, but suddenly she jumped off and ran into another room.
“She's finally gone.” Gojo sits on the edge of the sofa, swinging one leg over the other, grinning at the cat.
You giggled watching his reaction.
“Are you jealous?”
“Of course I'm jealous. I should be in her place!” Gojo crossed his arms and turned away from you like a stubborn child who has been deprived of a gift.
“Come here.”
“No!”
“Come on.”
“No!”
You gestured at him with your arms and reached out to him, to which he proudly raised his head without turning to you.
Because of his waywardness and character, he behaved like a teenager who doesn't really know anything and understands everything, but at the same time he longed for your touch, your stroking on the head and lily kisses.
“My darling, my best man, let me show you a sign that you are the only one in my heart.”
The only thing Satoru was guided by was your words, the way you skillfully use them.
He turned his head exactly 90 degrees, looking at you out of the corner of his eye.
“I'll think about it.”
Of course, he will not think, he will wait for you to take the initiative first.
“Satoru...” You called him flirtatiously.
You crawled up to him from behind and gently, lightly touching his shoulders with your fingers, brushed his neck with your lips, causing goosebumps all over his body.
“How long are you going to sulk?” You buried your forehead in the back of his head, wrapping your arms around him from behind.
You inhaled the remaining smell of rain and coolness, in which there was a subtle note of something sweet.
“Where have you been, Satoru?”
He was silent, there was a short circuit in his head from all your actions. You didn't see it, but he was smiling broadly, which made his cheekbones ache.
“How can I resent you, sweetheart?”
“Because you're like a child.”
You grunted and he threw you on your back, putting his head on you.
“Better stroke me. Since I'm a child, I want love and attention.”
“And you're a demanding child.”
You chuckled and began to run your palm smoothly down his back, moving to his head, starting to scratch it in a relaxed way, passing your thin fingers through his snow-white and soft hair.
He is always surprised at how you manage to influence him in such a way: as if at the click of a finger he fell and is ready to give himself up to the love that you reward him with.
“If you knew how nice it is to be in your arms after the rain.”
“I've heard that if it rains, it's for something good.”
You cupped Satoru's face in your hands as he propped himself up on his elbows.
He stared suspiciously at your stomach, examining it with a malicious smile. You tilted your head to the side, not understanding his behavior.
“And I heard that if a cat is lying on a girl's stomach, then she will soon have a child.”
You clicked, rolling your eyes and immediately shook your head, considering his answer a joke.
“Satoru, don’t be ridiculous!”
“Hey! Imagine how your mini copy will run around the house.”
“Thank you, I have enough of your mini fluffy copy.” You pointed out to him the cat that was sitting on the carpet, looking at you both with interest.
His brows became furrowed again; he wanted to say something, but you interrupted him, leaving a small kiss on his cheek.
“Okay, I'm at your mercy.”
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beefrobeefcal · 20 days
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the BEEF | #1: Joel Miller
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Summary: no-outbreak AU, Joel has a headache and that headache wants his attention. [based on a prompt THOT up in collaboration with @strang3lov3]
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,833
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, angry fools who want to play hide the sausage, angry joel, shovel violence against a truck, monster cock, age gap (joel is in his 50's, reader is younger), p in the v (unwrapped), rough dresser sex,
Author's Notes: welcome to the BEEF. Each P-boy has a thorn in their side that has to be dealt with. Thank you to @covetyou for inspiring the idea, and thank you @neverwheremoonchild, @strang3lov3, @rebel-held & @bitchesuntitled for their brains and eyes.
and thank you to every friendo in the Bistro - it's all for you, babies.
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Joel Miller was your street’s cranky asshole. No one dared throw a party or hold a garage sale without letting him know first. No one dared let their grass get over a certain length and the whole neighbourhood breathed a sigh of relief when he would go out of a town and not see the kids scribble with chalk on the sidewalks in the summer. He never called the cops; no, instead he showed up and berated whoever was hosting an event or engaging in an activity he found offensive. And he was intimidating. He wasn’t the tallest, but he was built like a brick shithouse. You’d lived on the block for almost nine years, and in that time, Joel had gone from being a broad, sturdy single father to a single, empty nester who lived off HungryMan frozen meals. He was a big man with linebacker shoulders and a meaty chest stacked on top of a boulderous belly. His plaid button up shirts always looked like they were holding on for dear life to avoid his temper.
And you were utterly in love with him.
Before the most recent snowfall, you’d been in your room on your bed with the window open a crack to let in some fresh air. Right below your window was Joel’s front porch, and as soon as you heard his door fly open, you grabbed your vibrator and listened.
“Get off my lawn!”, you heard him bellow at who ever had dared to approach his house.
You smiled to yourself and turned on your purple silicon friend and shoved it in your underwear.
As Joel berated the hapless victim of his temper, you nudged yourself closer to the edge. As you did, you cared less about the volume of your cries and let your noises out at top volume. By the time you came, Joel was standing on his porch with his mouth agape, staring at your bedroom window and the offending party walked away with a look of disgust.
*****
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
You watched as your snow shovel slipped out of your hands and hit your Joel’s truck. The one with the vanity plate ‘SM 9000’ that you had no clue what it meant. You could only sit back and watch as it fell and gouged in the paint job on Joel’s 1989 Dodge Ram pickup, your panties grew damp as you heard his front door open and slam against his house.
You turned around, raising your hands, trying to look like you were de-escalating the situation. “Joel, I-“
“The fuck’re you think you’re doin’?!”, he bellowed, stomping towards you.
As he yelled and flew into a tantrum over your shovel’s sins, you couldn’t help the stupid, lovesick half grin blooming on your face.
“… and you ain’t got no respect for no one’s property and…”, he stopped, took a breath, and looked you over, face twisting in a confused rage as he tried to figure out why you were looking at him as if he were a can of tuna and you were a cat watching him being pulled open ever so gently.
“The fuck is wrong with you?!”, he yelled, stepping forward, trying to scare you to no avail. He huffed and stomped his foot, trying to snap you out of whatever trance you were in.
You sighed and tilted your head, loving the attention he was finally bestowing on you, not caring that your reaction was essentially dumping gasoline on a house fire.
“Fuckin’ disrespectful shit…”, he snarled as he grabbed your arm and dragged you towards his house.
“Joel? What’re you doing? Where we going?”, you asked with a big dumb grin on your face then wincing at the harsh grip he had on your elbow. Your boots slipped and skidded on the icy walkway and you tripped heading up the stairs.
“Fuckin’ clumsy dumbass…”, he grumbled, shoving you through his front door and slamming it behind you both.
You looked around his entry way, noting the ugly wallpaper and the stale cigarette smell lingering. You crinkled your nose, and he turned around, his frown deepening into a scowl.
“Boots off!”, he barked, harshly motioning to your feet.
You didn’t miss a beat and toed them off quickly, kicking them into the wall. His jaw clenched as he watched the dirty snow clumps slide slowly down, leaving wet patches on his yellow-turned-brown floral wallpaper.
His eyes snapped up to yours, expecting an apologetic look. Instead, he was met with…
“Why the fuck you lookin’ at me like a love sick puppy?”
Joel was enraged. You didn’t run away or beg for forgiveness. No. You stood in his entry way, kicking your boots and making a mess, looking like he was David Cassidy or Patrick Swayze. You smiled back softly and that was the last straw for him.
“WHAT IN THE FRESH HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
You could have cum right there. Joel Miller was yelling right in your face. You’d gotten off by listening to him lose his shit at anyone trying to fundraiser or collect donations who had dared knock on his door but having a front row seat to a live performance was better than you could have ever imagined.
Joel watched your lips part and your brows twitch as they furrowed and your head tilt back slightly. He heard your breath hitch between his furious growling breaths, and his eyes slid down your parka-clad frame and he swore he saw your thighs clench.
His eyes went wide as he realized the effect he was having on you.
“You fuckin’ dirty little shit…”
The whimper he received in response made his cock twitch in his WalMart Levi’s. He sucked in a harsh breath and swallowed hard. He hadn’t had a woman look at him like that since he went to the strip club with his brother for his bachelor party, and he knew she was looking for a hefty tip. But you – the only thing he could think of is that you were trying to find a way to get out of paying for the damage your shovel caused. There was no waythat you were actually interested in him in that way. No. No woman had wanted to fuck him since before his daughter, Sarah, had been in junior high. He was a fat old asshole and you… you weren’t.
“Joel…”
Your soft voice pulled him back and the frown he carried all but left his face, being replaced with eyebrows to his hairline and his mouth open in confusion and shock.
“Joel, I… I’m sorry about your truck.”
You grabbed the zipper to your parka and pulled down, opening it to reveal your great aunt’s knitted sweater with a loon on it. Joel’s widened eyes swept over you and his brows furrowed.
“The hell you up to?”, he croaked, trying to sound intimidating.
“It’s warm in here”, you respond, tossing your parka on to, but missing completely, the stair banister.
His mind was racing. You actually seemed to be coming on to him as you stepped closer in your mismatched socks. You looked up at him through your lashes while your hands slowly slid up your legging-clad thighs and up to the hem of your sweater. He watched as you pulled it over your head slowly, getting it stuck for a moment, revealing a worn out white t-shirt with a faded image of a marshmallow peep and the slogan ‘Holla At My Peeps!’. He took another step back and you tossed your sweater at him, and he stumbled back, falling onto his recliner.
“Jesus, woman!”, he hollered, ripping your sweater off his head just in time to see you standing above him.
“You know how hot you are?”, you asked, leaning forward over him.
He froze. He must be dead. Or asleep. Or maybe he slipped when he stormed out the door to yell at you and hit his head. Or maybe he was drunk. Maybe he took a NyQuil tablet instead of the Omega 3-6-9 fish oil pills.
“The hell is wrong with you?”, he sputtered out, looking at you wide-eyed.
You didn’t answer. You only leaned forward, nudging your nose against his and letting out a breathy giggle. He tried to speak again, but his words got lost in the high pitch grunt he let out when your knee came up and nestled in between his thighs, pushing against the considerable bulge that had developed.
His hand involuntarily gripped your wrist that was supported on his arm rest, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“I know exactly what you need, Joel Miller.”, you cooed, tongue jutting out and licking your teeth, trying to sound seductive. “You need a good fuck.”
His mouth hung open in shock. You grinned wildly and kissed the tip of his nose before nipping at his bottom lip and tugging it between your teeth.
Joel let out a groan and closed his eyes, the hand on your wrist moving to your t-shirt’s hem and slipped underneath it. You nudged your knee against his crotch again and kissed him, tasting no-name waffles and burnt coffee.
The kiss seemed to break something in Joel. This wasn’t a dream, or an antihistamine induced hallucination or a concussion - this was real. You, his hot, young, stupid neighbour was crawling onto his lap and shoving your tongue down his throat.
He grunted lowly and pushed you back, looking up at you with dark eyes. You tried moving forward again, but his hand held you back.
A whine emanated from your throat, and he shook his head. “I’m not fucking you-“
You scoffed and he shushed you.
“Oh, hush and lemme finish, you loony shit!”, he huffed. “I was sayin’ that I'm not gonna fuck you in this chair; it barely holds my weight and if you’re gonna be bouncin’ on me, this fuckin’ thing’ll screw the pooch.”
You shrugged your shoulders, irritated. “Okay, fine. Then where?”
“My bed, you nimrod!”, he snapped with a scowl, then grinned. “Got a nice mattress with good lumbar support.”
*****
You had followed Joel to his room and were pleasantly… let down. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the beige walls and the picture of a horse above his non-exciting bed were not what you had thought he would have. What surprised you was the essential oil diffuser plugged in on his bedside table, giving the air a fresh lavender smell.
The fact that the rest of his house looked like a rejected concept for an early nineties sitcom and his bedroom looked like a bed and breakfast that had no theme, for some reason, made you want him more. This man and his lack of consistency. You needed him in you now.
Grabbing his arm and turning him around, you pulled him into a desperate kiss; teeth and tongues, fighting for real estate in each other’s mouths.
“Get naked, sugar.”, he grunted as he broke the kiss with a lopsided grin. He unsnapped his shirt, revealing a grey, stained undershirt, its ribbing pulled tight and stretched over his belly while his mouth and surrounding patchy facial hair glistened with your saliva.
While he wasn’t being that polite, he wasn’t being mean. That was a problem. Even with how mundane he’d revealed himself to be, it wasn’t enough. The residual dampness that made your panties stick to your core was a result of him yelling at you out front, and that goodwill your pussy had shown was slowly drying up.
Joel’s hands began to make quick work of his belt and stretch denim jeans, but he noticed you not moving to do the same.
His hand flapped at you in an urging motion, “Make with the no clothes. Can’t fuck you with them on.”
His eyes narrowed as he noted your lack of movement, and he paused. You began to see signs that Joel was getting mad, and your mind flipped through every situation you’d witnessed him lose his shit in.  What was it that would set him off quick? You weren’t about to throw a block party in his room, nor were you a religious group knocking at his door early on a Saturday. Then it clicked.
A devious grin broke out slowly on your face as you sat on his Temperpedic mattress and crossed your arms.
“Make me.”
“You indignant little shit…”, he growled, clenching his fist.
A flutter in your lower belly. More.
“Come on. Make me.”
“You fuckin’ tease… Fuck you!” His eyes were filling with fire.
An almost painful need bloomed in your core. More!
“Fuck me yourself, coward.”
He sputtered and guffawed, eyes wide in rage.
“You fuckin’ shit! Bangin’ up my truck and actin’ like a needy Jezabel just to fuckin’ tease me like this!”
You could have cum right there, between the iron grip on your wrist and his loud belittling.
You couldn’t stop the giggle that erupted, and he snarled. He grabbed your hand and yanked you up off the bed. You truly thought his back was bad enough that the effort of getting you up alone would be too much, but he shoved you against his dresser, then slamming his weight into your back. You whined, feeling your pussy clenching on nothing.
“You’re such a shit!”, he grunted, grabbing your elasticized waistband, and yanking your leggings and panties down on one side while your hand went to the other; the two of you awkwardly working towards removing your barrier.
When they were low enough on your legs to step out of, you clumsily did so, then tried to turn around to help Joel. He wasn’t fast enough, swearing under his breath as your hands lifted his belly to access his strained button fly. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and biting like a dog on a window while a steak was being grilled just on the other side.
You pushed his jeans down around his hips and they pooled around his ankles. He kicked them off and bit down on the crux of your neck and shoulder as your hand cupped and felt up his hard cock.
Jesus. Oh fuck.
Joel was hung. Like unreasonably so. You’d had your fair share of men slamming their pork steeples into your wet cunt, but none of them could even hold a candle to the monstrosity that sat heavy and covered in satin in your hand. You planted your hand on his chest and pushed him back, needing to get a peek at what Joel was packing. You immediately looked down, seeing the Wile E. Coyote faux-satin boxers protruding out in an impressive, and frankly intimidating, bulge.
“Oh shit...”, you breathed out, contemplating on whether you truly needed to do any serious sitting for the next week, or if you could maybe just get away with laying down at work.
His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye, and he gave you a dark smile, “Showed up to a gun fight with a knife, sugar?”
You didn’t have time to respond because Joel shoved his hand between your legs and harshly began rubbing your clit.
Your eyes fluttered and rolled back. Joel watched, an approving sneer on his face.
“’S fucked up … you like this?”
“uh…. Uh-huh…”
“You’re a lunatic…”
You smiled lazily. “You’re fingering a lunatic… w-what’s that say about you?”
He paused then huffed out, “That I’m fingering a lunatic, you moron.”
You let out a throaty laugh that bleeds into a moan as Joel shoves two thick fingers into your hole, slowly dragging them out before plunging them back in.
“You’re a sick little shit… you seducin’ and teasin’ an old man, an’gettin’ me all wound up… Neighbourhood headache… that’s you. Fuckin’ shit up and walkin’ away with a smile on her dumb face.”
“’M close… don’t…. don’t stop…”
His fingers kept the slow languid pace going as he leaned in and harshly whispered, “Unlike you, sugar, I don’t like to leave people disappointed.”
His eyes never left you, watching your every move. Every involuntary twitch and shudder, every flutter of your eyelids and breath leave your parted lips. He could feel it around his fingers and see it on your face that you were feeling everything intensely and now that he had you like this, he wasn’t going to let you go without making sure you weren’t going to pull this shit again.
Joel was many things, but a man who could let things go was not one of them. He was tired of hearing you cream and cry on whatever silicon thing you were shoving into yourself through your bedroom window as he lost his shit on someone; tired of seeing you make eyes at him while you sat in your front yard as he grumbled at a neighbour for the state of their lawn. He was still furious at you for once letting your hand - your soft, sweet, tender hand - linger on his when handing him his mail that was accidentally delivered to your home, forcing him to sit in his shitty recliner and try to finish with his calloused, rough, and hard hand. He never came.
You were going to pay for that. He’d promised himself that for almost five years and now here you were, on your way to being a muppet with how his hand played in your pussy. Joel’s time had come.
You came, moaning, on his hand as he watched, his fingers still moving in and out of you, and his thumb took up the task of tending to your twitching clit. Your face twisted and you cried out, trying to push his hand away.
Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and a moan seeped out. As you rode the wave, he yanked his hand out and grabbed your arm, throwing you onto the bed.
“Goddammit, you’re such a pretty shit.”, he grumbled, reaching for your ankle, and tugging your ass to the edge of the bed. You tried sitting up on your elbows, but he shoved you back down with his body weight.
His weight. Good god, he felt heavier and better than you ever thought he could as he pressed you down into the mattress.
But he got up off you, trying to wrangle your ankles and pull your exposed pussy to just the right spot to save his back from being strained. You tried sitting up again, wanting to have some sort of control over the situation, but Joel growled and grabbed your hips, and, in an impressive feat, flipped you onto your front all while grumbling about what a pain in the ass you were.
“Can’t even fuckin’ be considerate enough to stay put…”
You heard him spit then grunt, figuring he was priming that fucking meat wagon between his legs, and you let out an impatient huff.
“Knock that shit off!”, he snapped, flicking you on your ass cheek. “You just came, nimrod. You can fuckin’ wait!”
“Yeah… but I wanna cum again!”, you whined out with a smile, trying to not laugh at how irritated he was with you.
“I bet you do… but you’re on my time, and I am a patient man, sugar.”, he crooned lowly, snaking his hand up your back and to your hip. You squirmed a bit, but his hold kept you planted in place, and his other hand held his cock as he nudged it against your opening.
The smile on your face dropped as his huge member pushed in; your mouth opened, and out came a gasp followed by a choked moan.
“That’s it… Jesus Murphy…  not even fuckin’ your throat and I got you to shut your mouth…”
Yes, you knew Joel was huge. But it was just an abstract concept up until that moment. Now that he was shoving his massive dick into you, you felt like the universe’s mysteries were now clearly laid out. You knew what religion was right, who shot JFK, how they made the moon landing look real…
Nothing in life would ever surprise you again because you were being split open by this grumpy, fat man. You were being ruined by Joel Miller.
He grunted as he pulled back and then slammed into you.
“Tight little snatch, sugar… takin’ me like a champ.”
You couldn’t respond. Your brain had melted and left your skull empty, and you were unable to do anything but breathe loudly and moan, “S’too big… too big…”
Joel snickered and grunted, snapping his hips and shoving himself deep. You wriggled and squirmed, simultaneously needing him stop and to fuck you harder. Your head began to feel faint, and your core squeezed him, forcing a groan out of him.
He began to snap his hips faster, panting and grunting like the fat kid in gym class being forced to run a mile. You whined and squirmed, trying to get your knees under your body to be able to push back against him, to get him deeper, but he grabbed your calf and bit your leg right above your sock with a growl then groaned, “Stay… stay put… don’t move… jus’lemme… lemme finish…”
You let out a yelp than melted into a moan, throwing yourself into another orgasm. Joel’s thrusts became hurried and more erratic. The high-pitched whine that ripped out of Joel sounded like a dog begging for table scraps as he shot his load into you.
He collapsed onto your back, both of you panting. After what felt like hours but in reality, was only about 30 seconds, Joel had gone quiet. You nudged him, hoping to god he didn’t die from a pussy-induced heart attack. He grunted and struggled to push himself up off you, then flopped on the bed next to you. You rolled over onto your back and looked at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his brows furrowed; his wispy salt and pepper hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were closed. He was still breathing heavily through his mouth. You smiled, feeling a fulfillment you hadn’t since you’d convinced your parents that it was your sister who broke the CD-ROM drive in the family computer even though it was really you. Cuddling into his, your fingers drew heart shapes in his sweat coated chest hair.
Now that he’d fucked you, you wanted to clear the air as it were, and make sure he wasn’t going to make you pay for any damage to his truck. “So…”
Joel grunted in response, one eye opening and looking at you.
“I was just wondering… what’s your licence plate mean?”
He sighed and closed his eye again. He said the meaning quietly and at first you weren’t sure you heard him right.
“What?”
His cheeks flushed a little harder and he rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a huff.
“ShagMaster 9000.”
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TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @nerdieforpedro  @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @jennaispunk @tightjeansjavi @rubyfruitjungle @lilmizmoz @strang3lov3 @pedroshotwifey @harryleatherfit @bitchesuntitled
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sooniebby · 10 months
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This is my first time doing a request, I hope it doesn't bother you and you can choose the character you want to cast as Reader's partner. So imagine a world where hybrids exist, but they only make up a few percent of the world's population.
Reader is a snow leopard hybrid, but because the snow leopard is smaller than a leopard, much smaller than a tiger, and slightly smaller than a forest lynx, so he has the character of fluffy white ears and tail and short height, he works in an office and because his big and long fluffy tail can annoy people he often bites his own tail so as not to disturb others and it makes people who are in the same department with him spend a little time just to stroke his head and get a purring reaction from him.
This was heard by the Office manager's ears and became curious which in the end he made Reader a private secretary and often stroked Reader's head, until one day he accidentally pulled Reader's tail and got an unexpected reaction. Since then he has often pulled Reader's tail with 'accident' reasons which ended with office sex.
You can change it or ignore it if you feel uncomfortable, sorry if this is too long and sorry if my English is bad. Have a good day
:]
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ఌ 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
꧁ 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂
Word count › 3.6k
Rating › NSFT
Warnings › none
Kinks › breeding, size kink, creampie, mentions of free use
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ BEGINNING
(Name) didn’t hate being a hybrid. Sure there was the weirdos that wanted to keep him a pet but most treated him as a regular person. The only odd part was having people just touching his head.
It certainly didn’t help that he couldn’t help the purring that happened whenever he did. It just kept going so he ignored it most time. The pats were nice anyway.
At his job, his boring office job that he’d been debating on quitting, had two people who just couldn’t let go of his hair (plus ears). Kuroo and Bokuto loved to pet him as if he was a house cat.
He usually purred whenever they touched him since they figured out how to get that reaction from it. His ears were sensitive, don’t judge.
(Name)’s tail swished around as he began to get irritated at the paper work in front of him. That damn boss of his was annoying him with the amount of shit he continued to give him on a daily basis. He was just about to get up from his seat when someone stepped in his tail.
He cried out in pain, which was more akin to a cat’s scream, as he grabbed his tail and held it close to himself. Everyone in the office stared at him in shock while the culprit, Yamaguchi, looked as if he wanted to kill himself.
“I’m so sorry!!! Please forgive me!!” He cried, bowing down onto the ground. (Name) simply nodded. He knew he didn’t do it on purpose.
His tail was much longer than normal hybrids. It also didn’t help that he was shorter so it made his tail appear longer than it actually was.
But Yamaguchi wouldn’t be the only one to step on it. Soon enough, at least everyone stepped on it at least once. Kuroo twice became he didn’t watch where his big ass feet went but (Name) had to figure out what to do.
The pain was becoming unbearable and he was sure another two steps would cause his tail to break. He decided, when every other idea sounded stupid, to just hold it in his mouth.
(Name) was used to the fur in his mouth so it didn’t bother him to lightly hold the tail. This way, he didn’t have to fold it into an uncomfortable position for longer than hour. A few times he wrapped his tail around his waist but that always got a cramp after an hour or so.
“It’s like you got your own silencer,” Bokuto once said, scratching (Name)’s hair during his break. (Name) purred happily, his tail curling around Bokuto’s waist to hold him close.
“Oh, he could use his tail during sex.” Kuroo suddenly said, a smirk on his lips.
Kenma looked confused. “Why would he?” He was resisting the urge to pet (Name). His love for cats extended to (Name) heavily but he never actually touched him in fear of making uncomfortable.
“To muffle his moans,” Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Perfect for when you don’t want to get caught.”
“Oh, so dirty,” Bokuto laughed.
“Weirdo…” Kenma whispered.
(Name) was too busy enjoying his massage to care.
The four of them stopped talking when Iwaizumi had walked past them. He nodded in greeting which they returned. Iwaizumi looked mainly confused on Bokuto petting (Name) but didn’t say anything as he walked to his office.
Iwaizumi was the boss’s secretary. He was hardly outside of his office. It usually meant something bad happened if he was.
“Do you think the boss knows?” Kuroo asked.
“Know what?” (Name) questioned, frowning when Bokuto stopped his massage.
“About you. I heard he loves hybrids.”
“In a fetish way?”
“Dunno. Probably.”
Kenma sighed. “I’m getting back to work.”
Bokuto seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before shrugging. “He hardly comes out of his room like Iwaizumi. He wouldn’t care about (Name).”
“True.”
But how wrong they were.
It was a week later after Iwaizumi saw the petting zoo with Bokuto and (Name). And suddenly (Name) was being requested to meet the Boss. He felt worried.
Sure hybrids had protections on them but this was a private company. What couldn’t they get away with if they paid the right people? His coworkers all looked a bit worried themselves as they watched him walk away to the office.
They certainly didn’t help his heart calm down.
He knocked on the door waiting for the voice of a much older man to allow him in. But he only heard a much younger voice. (Name) hesitantly walked inside the office and saw a man possibly only four years his senior.
Oh, he was much younger than he thought. Okay, maybe he could get off the hook for whatever problem he caused. (Name) quickly bowed and closed the door, walking over to the seat in front of the desk.
The man’s brown hair was slicked back with a nice pair of glasses on his face. His smile was wide, a bit creepy but way more welcoming than (Name) had imagined. The man watched him for a second before his smile faded and he slide over a folder.
“Mister Hiragi, yes? You’ve been working with our company for over four years, right when I started after I took over for my father.”
“Yes…”
“I would like to offer you a promotion. You handled any work I sent your way with ease. I believe you deserve a higher position.”
(Name) nodded, a smile on his face. Oh, guess he could stay here a bit longer.
“My personal assistant, is the job I’m offering.”
“Isn’t Iwaizumi-San your secretary?”
“A personal assistant is different than a secretary. You’ll only work for me. Iwaizumi doesn’t have any power over you.”
(Name) hummed, his tail swishing around as he was deep in thought. His eyes were down on the folder, not noticing the man’s eyes that followed his tail with a hint of mischievousness.
“If this is alright for me to ask, will the salary increase?”
“Of course.”
“Then I accept.”
“Great. You’ll start next week, enjoy your Friday, Mister Hiragi.”
(Name) was right where he wanted him. Just how lucky was he?
(Name) had learned the boss name was Oikawa and that Iwaizumi had no fear in talking shit to his face. The amount of ‘shittykawa’ that or ‘asskawa’ this, Iwaizumi still kept his job.
He envied him.
He wanted to cuss out Oikawa too.
After the weekend, that Monday he first started his new high paying job, he was told to make coffee.
A fucking coffee!
After that, he was told to organize a shelf that had bothering Oikawa because he kept forgetting to higher a cleaner. Maybe he should’ve read the contract first before saying yes. But he told himself it was good money.
But it wasn’t just that that made him want to cuss him out, no it was the constant touching of his tail.
(Name) was bending down to pick up some trash when he felt Oikawa grasp his tail. It was a quick touch, as if he wanted to just feel if it was real. And it wasn’t the last time either.
(Name)’s office was now technically Oikawa’s. His old cubicle was given to a new employee so he couldn’t even go back to it if he wanted to. He did visit his coworkers during breaks but he didn’t get the Bokuto massages or Kuroo scratches anymore like he loved.
No, he had to worry with the tail pervert who continuously grasped it before letting go as if it burned him. He really wanted to know what was so tempting about it but decided the money was too good to take any chances.
There were a few times Oikawa pet his hair. It usually lasted just a second, but still resulted in a purr from (Name). (Name) wondered if it was because he was missing head pats for him to enjoy the simply touch from Oikawa.
“Hiragi, can you please hand this out for me?” Oikawa asked, handing over a stack of paper into his hands without even looking up from his computer. (Name) scrunched up his lips into a snarl but hummed, turning over to walk away when Oikawa grabbed his tail.
(Name) stopped and turned back to look at him but only got a mischievous smirk from Oikawa as he let go. His tail swished angrily as he huffed and stomped away to hand out the papers. What was so fun about his tail anyway?
It was similar to a regular cat! He couldn’t just get a cat if he liked touching tails so much?
The rest of the work for Oikawa was surprisingly easy. He felt as if his workload had lessen actually. Sharing an office with Oikawa felt weird though. He had to sit on the chair across from Oikawa, effectively sharing the desk.
It was a large desk so they weren’t cramped but it still felt a bit weird. But he wouldn’t complain. Oikawa never spoke to him during his job unless necessary. He guessed the only thing that truly bothered him about Oikawa was the tail touching.
At least he didn’t have to worry about people stepping on it to though. He was free to let it move around. But he still sometimes had the urge to bite on it again. It had become a habit at this point.
“What species are you?” Oikawa suddenly asked, not looking up from his paperwork.
(Name) blinked. His ears twitched. Most people just knew by looking at him. “A snow leopard.”
“Is that why your hair is white?”
“Yes.”
Oikawa glanced up at him, as if he was trying to study (Name) before a smirk appeared on his lips.
“Has anyone ever played with your tail before?”
“I…”
“Leave him alone, Shittykawa.”
Iwaizumi was in the office. When did he get there? (Name) watched as Oikawa pouted, a look that actually looked cute on him before turning on his blank face. He guessed it was his work default setting. Iwaizumi began speaking to Oikawa about something (Name) didn’t care about so he tuned them out.
His tail curled around in the air as he finished his work much earlier than expected. He was bored. Oikawa was still speaking to Iwaizumi about something so (Name) decided to bring his tail up to his mouth and lightly bite on it, his ears twitching in delight.
“Have a good day, Hiragi.” Iwaizumi suddenly said, walking away to leave.
“What about me? Where’s my goodbye?” Oikawa whined.
“Go fuck yourself.”
The door slammed shut behind Iwaizumi as (Name) wanted to laugh. He was glad his tail was in his mouth at the moment so he muffled it easily. (Name) glanced over at Oikawa and paused when he saw the odd look he was giving him.
Oikawa looked shocked at the sight in front of him. What? Had he never seen a cat hold it’s own tail before? Possibly not a hybrid, (Name) thought to himself as he pulled his tail away from his mouth. He forced a small smile and got back to staring at his computer.
He wanted to go home.
What he didn’t notice was the smirk on Oikawa’s lips.
He was liking this hybrid more and more each day.
(Name) placed down the coffee on Oikawa’s side of the desk, tired of doing the same morning task everyday for almost a month now. But the pay was too good to complain to anyone. Oikawa didn’t even say thank you to him anymore.
When he turned to go back to his side, Oikawa grabbed his tail. And it wasn’t a usual grasp. No, he fucking tugged it. Harshly.
(Name) had always hated how sensitive his tail was to every touch. He didn’t screech. He didn’t yell or howl in pain.
No, he fucking moaned. His back arched as he gripped at the desk beside him. It was silent after his pitiful moan. Oikawa’s hand was still holding his tail while it wiggled to get away.
(Name) wanted to kill himself.
Maybe he should quit.
“Sorry…” Oikawa muttered, releasing his tail.
“It’s fine…” (Name) excuses himself to the toilet. He never wanted to wake up ever again.
It certainly didn’t help that after that, Oikawa didn’t stop touching his tail. No, it seemed like he wanted to get the same reaction that he got he first time. At first, (Name) skillfully dodged most of this.
But there was still a few times Oikawa grabbed it right before he could move it and tug it, earning a whine or gasp from (Name) each time. It also bothered (Name) that he looked forward to it each day.
He couldn’t exactly pull his own tail. His body sent signals in his head that it would hurt and not be pleasurable whenever he tried during masturbation but Oikawa proved it wrong.
(Name) decided that if Oikawa was going to act like this but not do anything further, he might as well try to fuck him. He could always find a new job. Dick was more important.
He just needed some tips.
And he knew just who to ask.
“I’m so disgusted you’re speaking to me about that man.”
“I’m so sorry, Iwaizumi-San! But you have to help me! It’s a…. Hybrid! Thing, y’know? My inner (?) animal is bonded to him now…”
(Name) was spitting out some bullshit but his pouty frown made Iwaizumi not kick him out as soon as he mentioned sex.
“Well, he doesn’t have a fetish for hybrids. He’s just asking weird with you. He just said you were cute last time I asked. Honestly, just ask him.”
“Won’t it be inappropriate?”
“It’s inappropriate to talk to me about this stuff. Shittykawa is also inappropriate to touch your tail. Also your coworkers. But he’s too fucking lazy to enforce rules so I guess they don’t matter.”
(Name) blinked. Oh, he didn’t know it was inappropriate for someone to touch an hybrid’s tail or ears. It made sense….
Yeah, in a more regulated company Bokuto and literally everyone else would’ve been fired.
“Oh, well, thank you.”
“Just have sex when everyone has left, please. I don’t want to hear Lazykawa’s moans.”
(Name) wondered how many nicknames Iwaizumi had for him.
But he now had a plan. Just ask for sex. Oikawa couldn’t say no. He was obviously mildly interested if he kept trying to make him moan.
(Name) wondered how he should execute the plan, however. Since it seemed during the work day, Oikawa ignored him the entire time. Only two times did he look at him and one was to tell him he had a stain on his shirt. The other was to ask for a snack from the vending machine.
It reached around 6 pm, the time most people had left on a Friday night. He was supposed to be leaving now, suggested by Oikawa’s stare at him from time to time. His tail swished around as he closed his laptop, wanting to fake getting ready to leave.
He yawned, as his tail reached over and flicked at Oikawa’s glasses. Oikawa looked up from his computer, a confused look on his face. (Name) grinned, curling his tail around his glasses and pulling it off his face.
“Oikawa-San, you seem to obsess over my tail.”
Oikawa closed his laptop and stood up from his seat. He towered over (Name), a grin on his face.
“It’s a cute tail, Hiragi.”
(Name) placed the glasses on the desk and walked over to Oikawa’s side. “Oikawa… do you want to see me…”
“See you?”
“See on your desk, naked?”
(Name) felt himself cringe a bit at his words but he knew it worked at the smirk Oikawa gave him. He got him so easily. His tail reached up to wrap around Oikawa’s neck and smirked.
“My tail looks so good around your neck.”
“How does my hand feel around your tail, baby?”
(Name) squirmed at the tug of his tail. He was fully naked at the bottom with only his dress shirt on. His tie used to bound his hands together which left him unable to do much. He could take it, it wasn’t too tight but it felt nice to have them.
Oikawa was way more aggressive than he had imagined. After his little comment, he had pushed him to lay down face first into the desk. Swiftly pulling down his pants and underwear to get a good look at his ass. His ass was something Oikawa had only seen through pants that hardly captured the look bare.
He massaged them before delivering two quick slaps to them, earning a gasp from (Name). Oikawa was taking his sweet time with giving (Name) any sense of penetration. It was as if he wanted him to beg for it.
Oikawa tightened his grip around (Name)’s tail and pulled once more, enjoying the whine from the small man beneath him. His body was much larger compared to the hybrid’s, covering it with ease whenever he leaned down.
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on (Name)’s bubble butt, enjoying the giggle that left his lips. (Name) grunted when he felt Oikawa bite down on his butt, using a free hand to massage his left cheek.
Oikawa had thought only female hybrids would have self lubrication. So he pulled out a bottle of lube from his desk drawer, he had masturbated in here once. But to his shock, (Name) was leaking slick.
“You have slick?” Oikawa asked, a look of awe on his face.
(Name) blushed in embarrassment. “We can all produce slick… you can just fuck me, my body can handle it.”
“Hm, really? Then realistically, I could grab you whenever I wanted during work and just fuck you?”
“Yes…”
“We should add that to your contract. You’re a personal assistant for a reason, let’s add sex to the list,” Oikawa joked but (Name) couldn’t hate the idea.
It sounded sexy to think about entering Oikawa’s office and being told to cockwarm him during the day. (Name) mewled at the thought as Oikawa slipped in two fingers easily, he stretched his hole a bit to get him ready. Whenever his fingers went close to his prostate, Oikawa only grazed it.
“Oikawa… c’mon… fuck me.” (Name) whined, tail twitching in Oikawa’s hand.
“Want me to pump me full with my cum? That’s what you hybrid’s love, yeah? To be stuffed full.”
(Name) nodded. “I wanna see you though…”
Oikawa hummed as he flipped (Name) to lay on his back. He pulled down his pants and his cock was free to the cold air. (Name) grinned as he watched Oikawa pull at his tie, loosening it. His hair was still slicked back as the light from the sunset shined behind him.
(Name)’s tail curled as Oikawa rubbed his cock against his slick covered hole. He waited with a baited breath, his more animalistic side mewling at the chance of getting breed.
It took two more fake outs until Oikawa slammed his cock inside (Name). He gripped his waist and held him still as started out with a fast pace. (Name) cried out, legs wrapping around Oikawa’s waist.
(Name) moved his tail to his mouth to muffle his moans. Sure, most workers would’ve been gone by now but you never know those weirdos who worked unpaid overtime. Oikawa seemed to into it as he somehow managed to get faster. His cock continuous brushed against his prostate, causing (Name) to arch his back.
His ass was dripping with slick, allowing Oikawa to easily fuck him. The sound of squelching, skin slapping together, and the muffled cries from (Name) filled the office. (Name) was mainly surprised the desk could hold his weight with how fast and harsh Oikawa was thrusting inside of him.
It was squeaking with each thrust, making (Name) worried it would’ve break beneath him.
“(Name)…” Oikawa grunted.
(Name) hummed. He was too far gone to notice him saying his first name. The feeling of Oikawa’s cock inside him was dumbing him down.
“(Name), this isn’t a one time thing, I hope you know that…” Oikawa grabbed his legs and pushed them to rest near his head. (Name) felt himself cry at the new position. The burn of being stretched out like this as well as Oikawa’s cock reaching in even deeper.
He felt close.
(Name) removed his tail from his mouth and used it to wrap around Oikawa’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. Oikawa kissed him back as his thrusting began to become inconsistent. He was also close.
“Inside…” (Name) mewled when Oikawa pulled away from the kiss. He couldn’t get pregnant. Not by a male human but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t like the feeling of cum inside of him.
“You think it’ll take? Some cute little snow leopards.”
(Name) moaned. He wanted that badly.
It took two more thrusts before Oikawa pushed in deep inside to have his orgasm. (Name) was right after him, crying out before moving his tail to muffle it.
Oikawa’s previously slicked back hair was out and wild, covering half of his face as he grinned at (Name). (Name) purred at the sight of him and wrapped his tail around his waist.
Maybe he shouldn’t leave his job so quickly.
“If you guys are done… I’ll just slid the paperwork underneath the door,” the sound of paper sliding from the floor was heard.
The voice was Ushijima.
“Congrats on your new relationship.” Ushijima said before leaving.
Actually, maybe he should find a new job.
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
╰┈─➤ END
This was fun to write. Thank you for the request!
Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life69
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axelsagewrites · 6 months
Note
Hey there just m back again with a request where it’s cerisi and roberts daughter who’s married to Robb. Can it be it’s after the red wedding she survived and she spent her time hinting those who participated in the red wedding but she gets brutally killed and somehow like whoever did it brings her corpse to Cersi and her reaction and maybe Tyrion reacting to the news too as he was quite close to her
Robb Stark*Don't Die For Me
Pairing: Robb x Baratheon!F!Reader
Word count: 3638
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Warnings: the red wedding, robb dying, cat dying, reader dying, description of war/injuries, pregnancy, angst
Masterlist Here
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The gown was made from thick snow-white wool, trimmed with a soft grey wolf fur with streaks of black. Stag horns were embroidered along the cuffs, yellow gold fastenings holding it together. Lannister red hearts were hand stitched by Myrcella around the hem of the dress. It was warm and thick and span out like a dancer’s dress whenever you twirled.
People gasped when they saw you enter the gods wood, arms linked with your father as you approached your husband. Robb wore simpler clothes with a heavy fur cloak over his shoulders that he would soon drape over your frame.
Sansa watched the wedding doe eyed and Catelyn felt her eyes grow wet at the sight of her son, smiling down at his betrothed as they made their union promise. The king tried to look stoic, clearing his throat umpteen times to keep his tears back. Tyrion stood front row, much to your mother’s dismay and wearing the beaming smile you would have expected from a mother.
Your mother stood stoned face as she watched, smiling when looked at by anyone but you. she gave you a knowing look. “He will be your husband. Nothing more. He will share your bed, but you will have separate chambers. he will tell you how to act. You must listen when he is there. You must choose your battles and the most important ones will be what comes out between your legs,” her lessons rang in your ears when you had met Robb for the first time.
You knew she wanted to protect you the way she thought she needed to. To her Robb was a stranger, a threat, the captor of her daughter, the thief in the north, the unknown. What she did not know was the way Robb softly stroked his fingers over your cheeks when he held you or how he rubbed his hands over yours to warm them.
She didn’t notice how he would let you walk in front and was happy to follow behind. She didn’t notice how grey wind went to protect you when someone stepped out of line. She didn’t notice the lingering glances or the way his hands held yours a moment too long once the dance had stopped. She didn’t notice. She didn’t want to hope.
You however had noticed his affection for you. you noticed how his cheeks tinged pink when he helped you on your horse or how he laughed loudly at jokes he barely understood. You noticed he would reach for his sword when a stranger approached or how he smiled when you walked in the room. The same dopey smile he wore when he swore to protect you.
The ceremony had been beautiful, done in front of the heart tree as you pledged to the old gods and new. When you arrived at the feast it was already filled with excitement as the south and north began to mix. You danced first with Robb then each of his sisters then his brothers, including Jon who had been nervous to take the floor with you, but you had insisted.
You danced with your father who choked out a teary piece of advice. “Never forget you are my daughter. When you need me, you’ll have me,” he told you privately on the dance floor. While he trusted ned with all his heart you knew he would miss you.
You danced with your siblings, even convincing Joffrey to join you. Your mother stayed sat in her chair all night, but you made sure to talk to her even if you could see the nerves behind her eyes. Your uncle Jamie gave you a tight-lipped smile but not much more while your uncle Tyrion was only two drinks down and already very excited.
“My little niece has gotten married,” He proclaimed loudly as you approached his table and laughed at his state, “Oh how my heart breaks. Stolen away by some northern heathens,”
“Now, now uncle,” you said as you sat down at the table, stealing a glass of wine, “You can’t get rid of me that easy. You shall visit me,”
“Shall I?” he fakes pondered as he poured himself a fresh drink, “The north is too cold for me sweet niece,”
You hummed a laugh as you clinked your glasses, “I’m sure I will find you a warm enough room. After all I am your favourite,” you grinned making him laugh as you continued the festivities. You however had no idea the next time you saw your uncle it would be on such a sour note.
It was only the week after your wedding that Bran had fallen from the window however you knew he hadn’t fallen from the look on your mother’s face alone. As soon as the Queen had left you told Robb your suspicions, but they fell on deaf ears. You tried to ignore the growing pit in your stomach the day your father had left, Ned joining him in the south, but you just knew. You just knew.
The war came quick, and it came hard. The only reason Winterfell had so quickly rebuilt their supplies was at your instruction. Robbs men had suggested you stay behind to guard Winterfell, war was no place for a wife, but when you told Robb you wanted to come, he agreed with no hesitation. He’d seen the way you could shoot a bow and was even frightened when he saw how you swung a sword.
You had been trained by the hound after all amongst many other swords masters. Barristan Selmy had even given you a few tips. Your father had arranged the lessons, insisting no daughter of his would go down without a fight. Your mother had taught you other lessons. Poisons and daggers and knives disguised in rings. You knew how to survive. You knew how to fight.
Maybe you should have stayed behind. It was a thought that plagued your mind the moment you left and cursed you when you released what Theon had done. Robb assured you it was not your fault. Catelyn had said no one man could hold a castle by themselves. But what if you could have?
Walder Frey was your next big problem. He tried to convince Catelyn your marriage was just an inconvenience to a new alliance, but a Stark keeps their oath. Soon you had to break the bad news to Edmure Tully of his pending nuptials to a Frey girl.
Despite everything you had hope. Not once had you lost a battle. Not one. You charged in on horseback, Robb leading the front and you fighting with those at the back. Grey wind charged into battle first, but it did not take long for you to spot him on the battlefield. However, Robb had insisted on one thing.
Each time you joined him on battle you were dressed as a man with a helmet covering your face. He couldn’t risk Tywin knowing you were on the field. After all, if your siblings were bastards that made you the rightful queen of the seven, now six, kingdoms.
“I just have a bad feeling about this,” you told Robb as he helped lace you into your dress before Edmures wedding.
Robb sighed as he finished up the ties before turning you to face him, “You know I would never let anything happen to you,” he said, his fingers stroking over your cheek.
You kissed the palm of his hand, enjoying his touch for just a moment, “I know but I worry,”
“We can worry tomorrow,” Robb said, kissing your forehead as he held your face softly in his hands, “but for now we can take pause. Even a Frey would not defile guest rights,”
When grey wind refused to enter the Twins, you almost dragged Robb away right then and there. However, Cat and Robb insisted everything would be alright. You believed them. Well, you wanted to. You tried to believe them.
“My king has married, and I owe my new queen a wedding gift,” Walder began to say as you stood from your chair, a practised smile on your face as you moved to stand beside Robb. Before you could reach him, chairs scrapped against stone floors as Cateleyn slapped Roose Bolton.
“Robb,” she cried as Roose climbed from his chair. You tried to grab Robbs hand, to grab him and run, your hand already reaching for the dagger you had hidden. However, before you could grab its handle you felt a hand wrap about your wrist, yanking you back harshly.
Your fingers were just brushing Robbs hand when you were pulled back into the chest of Roose Bolton, his arm trapping you to his chest. Your nails sunk into his wrist, desperately trying to pull yourself out of his grip as Roose picked you up and began to drag you away to the side.
“Robb,” you cried out. You felt your heart racing, your eyes searching for where Robb was stood as arrows got set loose on the Stark men, your men. You tried to pry yourself free as your men were slaughtered by crossbows and daggers.
When the first arrow hit Robb you screamed, a guttural scream that pierced even your own ears as you felt your stomach lurch. You twisted in Rooses grip, turning your head to sink your teeth down onto his nose making him cry out in pain. he let you go out of instinct, and you quickly ran to where Robb lay as an arrow hit cat in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground.
“Run,” Robb said, his voice low almost a whisper as he tried to pull himself to his feet, “Don’t stop for me,” he said through gritted teeth, but your hand reached for his. “Go!” he almost yelled but you could see the pain in his eyes, “its too late for me,” he grunted, and your eyes fell to where he was looking.
You felt yourself grow sick at the sight of an arrow tip sticking out his stomach. It had gone through between his ribs, and you could see the thick blood dripping off its end onto the stone floor. “I can’t leave you,” you whispered as you stood, pulling him with you.
Your eyes scanned the room. There was no where to go. No bargain to offer no clear way to run. Your eyes fell to Catelyn who had crawled under a table nearby. You could see the fear in her eyes. Your own eyes turned to Robb who tried his best to stand. “Go,” he begged, “Don’t die for me,” he whispered, a tear rolling down his face as he pushed your hand away, but you clung on tighter, “I love you too much to see you die,”
“I love you too,” you tried to say but it came out as broken whimpers, “Theres no way for me to run,”
“Lord Walder!” Cats voice was the only thing to drag your eyes from your husband as you watched his mother hold a knife to a girl of no more than twelves throat, “Let it end, please. he is my son,” she begged.
You could see Robbs skin start to sweat, the colour draining from his face. You felt a tear fall down your cheek when you realised, he was dying. Robb had realised it too as his clammy hands moved to softly hold your cheeks as you kneeled together on the ground. Your hands reached for his face, stroking your thumb over his cheek.
“Take me for a hostage,” Catelyn cried, “Take her. she is the princess. Think of how much you could get!” she cried as Robb shuffled closer to you, his head moving to lean against yours. you ignored Catelyn’s pleas, ignored the way she tried to trade you for her son. You would have offered yourself too for Robb if not for the blood you could see at the corner of his mouth.
“Get up and walk out,” Catelyn begged Robb but he ignored her. you weren’t sure if he could even hear her. his face shuffled forwards, his lips softly brushing against yours. you tried to ignore the metallic taste as his blood tainted your final kiss. Tried to ignore Catelyn’s cries. Tried to ignore the feeling of Robbs skin growing cold beneath your fingertips.
You screamed when he was ripped from your arms. When your eyes looked up through the tears you saw Roose Bolton holding Robb, blood dripping still from where your teeth had sunk in. Robb looked to Cat, “Mother,” he mumbled making her let out a sob. His eyes turned to yours, looking down at your filled with regret, “Wife,” was the last word that left his lips before a gasp when Roose Boltons dagger sunk into his chest.
“The Lannister’s send their regards,” you heard him whisper and you lunged for him only to be pulled back by yet another one of the Frey men.
“Take her to the kennels for the night. Her mother wants to see her,” Walder Frey called out as one of his sons dragged you out the room.
You let your body go limp as you listened to Catelyn’s scream echo the once happy hall. You let yourself be dragged, acting as if you could not walk. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t have to pretend to let them flow.
However as soon as you were the only ones in the corridor your fingers felt for the hilt of your dagger, your fingers wrapping around the black leather. Your eyes glanced up to the distracted Frey man. You glanced forward, making sure the corridor was empty before slamming your head back into his mouth making him cry out and drop you.
This time you were ready though as you spun around, your dagger sinking through the side of his throat. When you pulled it back, he collapsed to his knees, blood squirting out his neck as his body fell lifelessly to the ground. You didn’t have time to watch the light leave his eyes as it had Robbs.
Your hands reached for his belt, undoing it quickly before tightening it around your own waist. Next was his cloak. It was too long but would work for now you thought as you put up the hood before taking off down the corridor. Your hands squeezed the pouch on his belt as you ran, and you sighed of relief when you could feel coins through it. his sword was heavier than you’d like but you knew you could handle it. before anyone knew what had happened you were already at the forest edge on the back of a Frey horse.
The next couple of weeks were possibly the worst of your life. You wanted to mourn, to curl up in a ball and sob. You wanted to die. However, you couldn’t. you had to live. Robb wanted you to live. As you walked the forest you often felt your hand hover over your stomach.
Baby Robb you thought. Or Catelyn for a girl. Your bloods hadn’t arrived for little over three months. At first you thought it was the stress of war but as you stood on the forest edge, listening to the faint sounds of your men being slaughtered as you escaped you knew. You knew you were pregnant, and you wondered if Robb would’ve run if he had known.
If you had not come across the brother hood without banners you wondered if you would have survived much longer with such a large bounty on your head. Soon though your mission became less about surviving and more about getting revenge.
When you sunk an arrow into the chest of the first Frey you came upon you remembered your anger and soon it almost became like a sport. It wasn’t hard to find a Frey to kill and they rarely put up a fight. It was the Lannister’s that were harder. Though many knew you and thought they could convince you to return to your family’s side.
You made sure to stab they ones twice. You never stabbed to kill, however. You enjoyed watching them crawl away, desperate to find help, but knowing they’d bleed out before finding any. But revenge is not a survival tool you soon learned.
You had been washing your face down at the stream near where you and the brotherhood had chosen to set up camp. It was almost peaceful here. The birds were chirping, deer walked around with no care in the world. Feeling the sweat wash off your face as your splashed yourself with the cool water was the best feeling you had had since the wedding.
For a moment, a single moment, you tried to forget it all. You let yourself enjoy the stream, your fingers hovering in the water, enjoying how the water flowed around them. You looked up across the stream, smiling at the stag that stood across the water from you. Dad. The idea pained your chest. Everything was so much simpler before.
When the stag began to kick you squinted, moving to stand to help the creature when you felt a hand grab a chunk of your hair. You tried to scream, to reach for his hand, but the ice-cold water entering your mouth made it hard to even move. You tried to thrash but you did little but make the water splash. You could hear muffle voices from atop the water but with no clue who they belonged to.
Your eyes stung as you tried to look up. You managed to turn your head just enough to see the stag out the corner of your eye. You wondered if the wolf that had pawed its way up to stand by the stag was real. It almost looked as if it was smiling down at you. your hands slipped away from your attacker’s grip as your body grew stiller. Your eyes stayed on the stag and wolf. When you need me, you’ll have me. Your fathers’ words echoed in the water. I love you too much you could hear Robbs voice whisper before everything faded to black.
“Where is she?” Cerci demanded as her apparent cousins she’d never heard of stood before her throne. “You said you had my daughter,”
“Yes, my queen,” the man bowed before turning to signal for a crate to be brought forward, “We have her right here,”
“Are there air holes in that box?” Tyrion asked, walking down the stairs from the throne to the crate the mountain had sat down with less than grace.
“Why would we need airholes my lord?” the man’s words even made cerci stand from her throne as Tyrion began to pry the crate open with his dagger, “Your grace we were told she had committed treason. She murdered my father your grace, your cousin. She was dangerous I’m telling you my grace you have to believe me,” the man pleaded but it fell on deaf ears as Cersei approached the crate.
Tyrion slowly pried it open, his eyes peeking inside before gasping, slamming its lid shut as he backed away, “What is it brother?”
“Don’t look in there” Tyrion begged as cerci approached the crate, “Don’t look in there! Any of you,” he screeched.
Cercis eyes were cold as stone as she looked from the crate to the mountain then to her cousin. The mans eyes widened in terror as the mountain carried him out wordlessly, “Please your grace. I thought this is what you wanted,” he screamed.
“Get out,” Cersi muttered, “All of you out!” she screamed making everyone, but Tyrion flee out the room. Her eyes were locked on the crate, “Is she-?” she tried to ask as Tyrion stood from where he had keeled over on the floor.
His feet scraped the ground as he walked over to stand by his sister, “She’s dead,” he said, his voice cold but tears streaked down his cheeks, “They killed her,” Cersei’s hand reached to open to crate, but Tyrion shuddered as he turned around, “Do not make me look at her,” he begged.
“I have to know,” she murmured as she took the lid off the crate, her eyes wound shut till she heard the lid clatter to the ground. Cerci opened her eyes, expecting to see her daughter asleep in a box but she gasped when she saw the reality. “No,” she gasped, her hand clutching her heart as she stepped towards the crate.
“Look what you’ve done,” Tyrion said through gritted teeth, “Look at the girl you had killed!”
“I never- I didn’t mean- I didn’t want her to die,” cerci said as she reached out to stroke her daughter’s hair but when Tyrion saw out the corner of his eye, he slapped her hand away. “I- “
“You do not touch her!” he screeched, “She is dead because of you! all of this is because of you,” he yelled at his sister before noticing a new horror reach her eyes. Tyrion choked back his tears, trying to hold his stomach steady as he peered back into the box, “Oh my gods,” he whispered as he backed away from the box.
“I didn’t know,” Cersi whispered, her eyes unable to move.
“You killed your own grandchild,” Tyrion whispered, venom dripping off his tongue as he backed away from his sister, “Your own daughter! Your flesh and your blood!” he began to yell once more.
“I didn’t mean to- “Cersei tried to beg, tears falling from her eyes as she backed away from the crate.
“That doesn’t matter,” Tyrion said coldly as he glared up at his older sister, “She is dead because of you. and I hope that haunts you till your last breath,”
Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @nyotamalfoy
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wonderlandwalker · 3 months
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Should've Known | Finnick Odair x Reader
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THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox
Summary: Life brought you and Finnick blissful peace, at least for a little while. (this is a part 2 of He Knows Better but can be read on its own as well)
Content Warnings/Tags: Big time angst, no happy ending this time, mentions of forced prostitution, bruises, did I say angst yet, no use of y/n
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: A big thanks to @libertyybellls for giving me the idea of a second part. This is not proofread because I do not have the attention span. It's short but I poured part of my own soul into this so it better not flop.
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Everything had been exactly as he could have wished it to be. He had let you in. He hadn't regretted it one moment. You would dance together in the kitchen to the music coming from the radio. He would dip you and kiss you, and you'd laugh at how theatrical he was being, but you'd kiss him back with just as much passion. You'd go to bed, and he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear until you fell asleep. But time moves, and it comes with brutal lessons that he wished he could ignore.
Because he sees the marks on your skin, he sees the bruises they left. At first you used to tell him you were just clumsy, bumped your hip into the cupboard, you'd laugh it off. But he knew better. He knew because this is not new to him, because he has first hand experience.
He will see it when you reach up to grab a mug or as you lay down next to him and your clothes shift. He thinks of something to say. He thinks of ways to console you, and yet whenever the opportunity is there he watches it go by, too scared of your reaction. Everytime he feels the urge to grab you tighter, but he doesn't want to risk you pulling away, because it would break him.
You used to tell him everything, you would tell him about the cats you saw on your walk around the district and you would talk about the new tea you liked that you just had to go show Mags. But yet again, time is a cruel master, because you've been more quiet lately, more reserved. You don't light up anymore when he asks how your day was.
At times he's scared he'll forget what you sound like. Because your voice is such a sweet melody to him, but even the sweetest of things can wither away like a flower that's been looked at too long.
And he guesses everyone deals with it in their own way, but he wished it had been a different one. Finnick plastered on a smile to keep going, he convinced everyone there was nothing going on for so long he tricked his brain into believing it too. But that's not what you're doing. And he's grateful you don't feel the need to pretend around him, truly, he is. But it doesn't mean he doesn't miss the manner in which you used to hum while pouring coffee or the way you would skip down the steps of the stairs when hearing him open the front door.
You still go out, but it's not by your own choice. You know that if you don't show up to the Capitols event and convince everyone nothing has changed, everything will just get worse. So you go, you go and for a few hours you're your old self again, even if it's only pretend. And he hates himself for how much he enjoys it, because it's not really you, not anymore.
In a way the bruises are a blessing, because every time you get one, Snow will leave you be for a while until it's turned back to yellow and the only way to see it is to pay close attention. But finnick pays close attention, and they're never fully gone. Snow doesn't want people getting the wrong idea, so he makes sure you look untouched. But these people are paying customers after all, so he doesn't interject at whatever their heart desires. It is just a week or two, but the worse the marks are, the longer you get, and the more time you have to crawl out from within yourself. If its been particularly bad you seem happy now, you seem happy at the prospect of peace. And sometimes, just sometimes, he sees you swaying along again to the music while you make breakfast.
Yes, you've found comfort in the pain, but you've found agony in its disappearance.
When you're both home, you still curl up next to him, and he longs for it all day. He craves the way your body feels against his and the way you fit into him like a puzzle piece that's finally been put in the right spot. He hates mornings now, because it means he has to lose that feeling and wait an entire day to get it back again. He can't sleep when you're not there, he feels like he's missing a part of himself, like someone has broken him in two and took a piece. When he has to leave you at night, he's not even upset anymore at what's happening to him, no, he's upset that they're keeping him from being with you. Because he not only wants it for himself, he knows you need it too. He knows because he's seen what state you're in whenever he gets back. And he needs that little piece of you you're still willing to give him. Even if it's the only thing you'll ever give him again.
Sometimes he wonders about trailing kisses down your neck. He wonders if anyone has ever shown you actual bliss, but he doubts it. He should be glad, should be ecstatic that he's the only one you actually enjoy being with, but he's just sorry. He's sorry for what is happening to you, he's sorry you're not being shown more kindness. Sometimes he wonders what would happen if he left his own marks, god knows he wants to, but not the rough, careless ones that usually paint your skin. No, he wants to leave marks of love. He wonders if Snow would leave you alone then too, but he doesn't want to risk things becoming worse instead. So he makes peace with the fact that it will only ever be a thought.
He's asked you, he's begged you to simply not go anymore, not listen to what Snow wants. He says he doesn't care what will happen to him, because when he sees you come home with your shoulders sunken and your eyes dulled, he genuinely doesn't. He tells you that yes, he's aware of what Snow will do to him if you don't listen. But nothing he could think of to do to him could be worse than what's happening to you right now. But he should've known better, he should've known you wouldn't listen. To you, Finnick is worth everything. Because that's what you've been doing, giving everything. You've not just given your body, you've given your soul.
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eneiyri · 5 months
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PAIRING: Boyfriend!Riki x GN!Reader GENRE: Fluff, established relationship, Y/n and Riki are on a date, first snow (= first love) SYPNOSIS: In which Y/n calls Riki by his name for the first time while on a date (In Japan it is respectful to call someone by their last name, and since y/n and Riki are in an established relationship I thought it would be a good idea)
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“That movie was good,” Riki yawned, stretching out his arms as you both walked out of the theatre room. 
You lift an eyebrow, “Nishimura, you didn’t even watch it properly. I swear ninety percent of what you saw were your arms, scaredy cat.” 
He clears his throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, and you laugh. 
Riki soon takes something out of his pocket as you rummage through your things, looking for your phone. 
When you finally find your phone, you look up at him to show him, but he holds something up.
Your boyfriend watches as your eyes widen immediately, “Arcade cards?” You let out, clearly excited. 
Riki’s smile is wide when he gets the reaction he wanted from you. “Yeah, I bought them a couple days ago.”
You take them into your hands when he passes them to you, “We have to play the claw machine.” 
“Of course,” He rolls up his sleeves dramatically. “Just tell me which one you want and I’ll get it for you. Just name it.”
You chortle, “Is that so?” You raise an eyebrow at him, taking in the challenging expression of your boyfriend. “Then the duck. I want the duck.”  
He furrowed his eyebrows, “The duck?” He repeats in a questioning voice, making sure he heard you right. 
“Yes, it’s so cute.” You tell him, leaning against the claw machine glass watching your boyfriend’s lips press together confusingly. “Looks like you,” You add.
He shakes his head, “Don’t you think the Puma is cuter, baby? Doesn’t that one look more like me?” He looks at you. 
You take your turn to shake your own head, “Nope, you’re a duck. Especially with those cute lips of yours, baby.” You say, emphasising the last word in his tone of voice.
“Come on, don’t—“ “Unless you think it’ll be easier to get the Puma, Nishimura. Then that’s okay with me too.”
Riki stills at this, before looking at the claw machine and swiping the card. “Oh, I’ll get you that duck.”
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“Nishimura, you’ve spent nearly two cards on this game, you really don’t have to get it.” You tell him, tugging on his sleeve.
He shakes his head, “No, you want the duck so I’ll get it for you.” 
“It’s okay, really. Anything will be okay.” You say, watching his expression concentrate on the claw machine. 
You get so caught up in admiring Riki’s face that you are taken aback when something comes in between the both of you. 
The duck plush is pressed softly against your face, and Riki moves it aside to show his own. “Told you I’d get it.” He smiles at you, patting your head with it. 
You shake your head at him with a laugh, “Yeah, you did.”
He hands it to you, and picks up his (two) arcade cards from the ledge of the claw machine. “Took me a lot of tries, but it was worth your reaction in the end.” 
You process his words, “Thanks, Riki.” A huge smile forms on your lips as you tug on the boy’s sleeve, holding the duck plush in your arms. “You really seemed to like to play it too s—“
“Wait, what did you just call me?” Riki cuts you off, making your body go frozen. You slowly turn to look at him, reading that his eyes were widened in shock. You look down, overthinking and quickly assuming the worst. 
Letting go of his sleeve, you step back, deciding it was best to keep your distance. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out.” You mumble, suddenly shy and anxious. “I should’ve been more caref—“
Riki steps closer to you, taking your hand into his as he tugged you closer. This makes you look up at him in surprise. “Nishimura, I—“
You fall into his arms, your sentence ending with a muffle as he wrapped his arms around you. The warmth of his hug slowly calms you down, and you try to pull away to get a look at Riki’s face. “Nishi—“
“No it’s ‘Riki’.” He says, looking down at you with doe eyes, wide in entertainment. “Say it again.”
You whine, pressing your face into his chest, “You’re totally making fun of me.” 
His shoulders shakes against you, and you hear his laugh as he tightens his hug around you. “Come on, you’re so cute.” 
You push away from him again, and he makes sure you stay close. “Riki.” You mumble with a huff. “Happy?”
Riki tilts his head, before shaking it. “Didn’t hear that, what’d you say?” He squints his eyes at you.
You swear you could punch this boy when you repeat it, “Riki.” 
A shit eating smile forms on his face, and he’s quick to pull you in again, a slight squeak of surprise leaving your lips.
“Bro,” He lets out, voice almost like he was breathless. “You’re so cute, holy sh—“
You step on his foot, making him groan and pull away from you. You cross your arms, frowning at him, “You’re teasing.” 
Riki smiles widely at your reaction, reaching out for you once more. He puts an arm around your shoulder, and pulls you with him as he walks.
You walk quickly, trying to keep up with your boyfriend, “Riki, slow down. Three of your steps match one of mine, you giant.” 
He laughs, slowing down for you. “Okay, I’ll do anything as long as you keep calling me by my first name now.” He looks down at you, pressing a kiss on your forehead before letting go of you. 
You huff, watching your breath in the cold air. Riki is busy adjusting his scarf, and you watch him admirably. He catches your stare, and he smiles for the nth time that day. “Want a picture?”
You roll your eyes, “Shut up, Nishimura Riki.” Grabbing his scarf, a gasp leaves the boys lips as you pull him into a kiss. 
The kiss is sweet as you both stood in the middle of an empty parking lot, the cold air surrounding the both of you. 
Riki is quick to wrap his arms around your waist when he realises you’ve gone on your tippy toes, pulling you in for support. 
After a couple seconds, your grasp on his scarf loosens, and you laugh against his lips when you feel something land on your face. 
Riki then opens his eyes, and smiles against your own lips when he realises why you were so happy (other than because of him).
He lets go of you slowly, letting you land flat on your feet as you both reach your hands out, “Snow.” He spoke softly.
You laugh, stepping away from him and looking up in the sky. “It’s so pretty,” 
“Like yo—“ “Riki, if you finish that sentence I’m breaking up with you.” 
He laughs, then grabs your wrist softly. “As if you’ll break up with me,” He rolls his eyes. 
You catch his eye roll, laughing harder. “Yeah, you’re right.” 
He smiles warmly at you, “Let’s go, Y/n?” He takes off his scarf, deciding to put it on you instead. 
You take in his expression, feeling warmth surround you quickly. You knew it wasn’t because of the scarf, the earmuffs or the gloves you were wearing. 
But it was because you were with him, Nishimura Riki. “Yeah. Let’s go, Riki.”
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A/N: As I wrote this I kind of had Ao Haru Ride (Blue Spring Ride), the anime, in mind… I couldn’t stop thinking about that part in the manga where Kou was so excited about Futaba’s reaction to him buying her flowers :( I love my Shoujo manga clichés <3
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pietropudge · 1 month
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Imagine your big beefy/thicc boyfriend Bucky Barnes putting you in his belly whenever it's cold to keep you warm
a/n — something short to get back into this! non fatal btw tho it is joked about
summary — check the ask!
words — 1.9k
warnings — vore! gender neutral, vaguely smutty?
~~~
It was seven in the morning when your alarm disrupted the peaceful sleep of your big boyfriend. He laid on his back with you sleeping on top of him. His eyes fluttered open, flicking from you to your alarm and then back to you. Slowly, while holding his breath, he ever-so-carefully reached to the nightstand next to your bed and turned off the alarm. You could feel his movements and took a deep breath before speaking, your head never leaving his plump chest.
“Buck, I have to get up.” You buried your head into his chest, your arms still clinging around him. He was so big and filled out your wingspan in the best way. Just the way that you laid on him with the entirety of your weight, not an ounce shifting to anticipate the action of pulling away made you sound less convincing.
He could sense your lazy efforts to depart from him, “Just stay in bed with me. Let’s watch movies all day.”
You pulled away, lifting the covers to let the light in on all of the places where the sun doesn’t shine. It was coming in through the window, shining unusually bright through the drawn, silky black curtains and illuminating all of the curves and folds of Bucky’s naked body. He slept as bare as possible, being comparable to a furnace making a room hot when he was under the sheets, while you had a thin layer of pajama pants and a tee-shirt on. Even his metal arm managed to be warmer than you during some nights, like his own personal radiator receiving and sending heat out in waves under the sheets.
“I wish I could, but we wouldn’t have a bed without money. And we wouldn’t have that without a job.” It was a harsh truth you had to admit, every second of being at work was torture because you knew what awaited you upon your inevitable return—a man who was willing to do anything to be near you. You needed him just as much as he needed you, but you felt like an emotional support animal sometimes—more attentive to his needs than your own. He always talked about getting a cat. That’s how much weight you were willing to give it. You two weren’t really on that level, but he had a strange fascination with putting you in places you didn’t belong. Sit in his lap, roll over in his stomach, stay in his bed. 
“Fine, just this once.” He allowed, and then he demanded, “Kiss me.”
You gravitated towards the window, snow covered the ground and now the chill in the room made sense. “Shit. I’ll be back in to get dressed for work.”
You rushed to your shared closet, consisting of two sliding doors with mirrors covering the front. You could see Bucky raising his head at your more serious tone to ask the question: “What’s wrong?” 
You laughed at his reaction, unsure if he was actually worried or if he was just mad that he didn’t get any affection. “My car’s covered in snow!” 
And so were your feet the second you walked out the door. Dressed in nothing but a loose pair of pajama pants that got caught in the chilly breeze, a short sleeve shirt that made you regret not grabbing gloves, and a pair of chunky snow boots that clashed with the rest of your outfit, your goal was to get this over with as fast as possible. You armed yourself with a multi-faceted snow broom. It had a brush on one end to sweep everything off with a combined handle and ice scraper on the other. With that in hand, you trekked through the snow, rounding the house you and Bucky resided in to clean off your vehicle. 
At first, it was easy to maneuver around your car and sweep off the snow clinging to the windows and door handles before raising your arms slightly higher to clear off the hood and the trunk. All of it fell to your feet, feeling like extra weight the longer you stood outside. Soon, your movements became lethargic. Your arms were freezing, the muscles weakening from having to clear the top off last. Your legs felt heavy and the snow at your feet was like thick mud, harder and harder to kick up as minutes passed. Your haphazard attempt to prevent yourself from being late to work started to go sideways because now, you wanted to take your time and conserve the fleeting warmth in your body. You could have gone back inside, but Bucky’s allure—no matter if he was still in bed or streaking around the house—would be too strong. He would distract you, and this weather was the perfect mood-killer for any ideas like that.
But Bucky seemed to come to you as if he knew you need some relief. Even in the cold, he only donned a pair of ankle-high combat boots straight from your closet and nothing else. He had that super-solider advantage, the serum and his time in Russia making him not even flinch as the snowflakes whirling through the air encircled him. Everything from his muscles to his small, developing gut shook a little as he walked. His dick didn’t shrink in the cold like most would, it stayed at its impressive length even while soft. Behind that, his balls swung with him as his thighs pushed his package from side to side with every step.
You could hear his footsteps packing down the snow, eliciting a crunch with each step. Turning towards the noise, you spoke out to him. “Buck, what are you doing out here?”
“I never got my kiss, and I figured that would make you clean this car faster.” Had you really been out here for that long? Maybe you had already spent all of the time you allocated to getting ready to clear off your car. His left hand—the one made of metal—gripped your arm, making you shudder from the added cold. He had a look of concern on his face, “You’re freezing.”
He used his hold on you to turn you away from the car, and your hand had gone numb enough to drop the snow broom to the ground. You didn’t speak, so he continued. “I could warm you up fast, doll? You’ll be wishing it was summer.”
Bucky didn’t wait for any confirmation. His hot breath clouded the air and reminded you of a misty sauna, one where the fog was thick and the walls were a dark mahogany. The only thing that soured the image was Bucky’s morning breath, reminiscent of last night’s dinner with a meaty twinge to it from the saliva. But he could read your face, the features that hadn’t numbed twisted into something short of a positive look. It felt so good in contrast to the cold chill in the air, the smattering of snowflakes on your head and shoulders felt like a nice garnish to him and melted quickly from the heat inside his mouth. His cheeks bulged with your head inside, the hairs of his unshaven scruff spreading away from each other as his skin and jaw stretched impossibly. You wanted more of the warmth, the rest of your body needed to curl up someplace warm. Surely Bucky could help you out after so that you wouldn’t be late to work, this was just a little distraction.
Your mind flew in a million different directions. His lips went over your shoulder blades and you could feel saliva drenching your shirt like the complimentary hot water at a sauna; he intentionally pressed you to the roof of his mouth so your back was coated by the best sauna stone known to man. Your head passed the bottleneck of the whole process, feeling the first of many cases in which you would be encased by warmth—by slick saliva that would never freeze over. He got to your hands, happily stuffing them in and feeling your satisfied sough as they warmed up in his mouth. The rest of your body was slurped up easily, his gulping and swallowing echoing off the quiet outdoors. Then, he reached your feet. He made a point to take off your snow boots and socks to warm up your cold feet, too. He wanted you to be as comfy as possible, to slip away in a heated reverie.
Eventually, you were balled up in his gut, weighing him down without much trouble. You were quiet like the settling snow. Now that you were in his gut, the world decided that it was finally time to stop the onslaught of flurries. Since the snow had stopped, Bucky reached up, using his larger body size and frame to get the top of your car. With his metal arm numb to the frigid element’s remains, he swept off half the snow from the top. Then, he leaned forward, pressing his gut against your car and squeezing you in the process.
“Sorry, babe.” His voice bellowed from above. He grunted, reaching around to get the chunks of snow his initial brushing didn’t reach. A few uncomfortable moments later, you felt his gut sag back down without the solid force of your car to mess with it. He let out a satisfactory sigh. “There.”
“Is my car clean?” You called up, feeling your wet pajamas cling to you, and started to get sick of the heat now that you were all warmed up.
“Yeah.” Bucky stood next to your car, admiring the little work that he did to finish off clearing your car. He spun around to find the snow sweeper you dropped, making you shift around in his gut when he bent down to pick it up. After a few unsuccessful attempts to grab it with his enlarged gut—he almost fell into the snow below him, almost—he just barely grabbed it with the tips of his metal fingers, but that was all he needed to scoop it from off the ground.
You hit against the walls of his stomach. “So, let me out!”
It elicited a belch from him, and he patted his gut. “I’ll let you out… tomorrow. Your boss is going to have to deal with it.”
The big steps he took to walk through the snow were noticeable from within his gut. When he stopped, you assumed that he was back inside, and you heard the soft click of the lock to your front door that you knew all too well. It was the same noise you would hear if you were heading off to work, but now you heard it through a thick layer of fat and stomach lining.
“Buck, I’m serious!” You protested. He kept walking around before sitting down on the couch, your world shifting again as the suspension from his midsection turned into a flat support under you. From the outside, Bucky had spread his legs wide, letting his gut fill out the space where he’d normally tell you to sit or suck or whatever he wanted. He would get to keep you in his gut for the rest of the day, and in his metal hand, he held a steaming cup of hot cocoa that he slowly doused you in whenever he took sips of it. On the television, he had some movie playing that he had been bugging you to watch with him.
“Not my fault you don’t believe in layering clothes…”
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clangenrising · 2 months
Text
Month 11 - Leafbare
The snow had been falling all morning. The drifts piled up over the course of the afternoon, higher than Floodpaw had ever seen before, and he and the other apprentices had to clear out the den entrances once or twice to keep the dens from being completely sealed off. They’d also spent a good few hours fishing at Goldenstar’s request but Floodpaw hadn’t been able to focus much.
That morning, she had told the three of them that if they wanted to join the war party she would let them. He had been thrilled, to say the least. The assessments had been tough but the hardest part had been the lack of a reaction from Goldenstar and the silence on the matter she had maintained for the last few days. The anticipation had nearly eaten him alive. Now, all of that energy had been turned into excitement. He had immediately asked to go and Goldenstar had agreed. Even Sparrowpaw was going. 
Barleypaw was staying behind, as expected, but she had specifically asked to stay and protect Smokyrose and the kittens. 
“You won’t need to,” Floodpaw had said, “We’re going to beat the rogues, easy. The prophecy said so.” 
“It never hurts to be safe,” Yarrowshade had said. 
Floodpaw wasn’t sure how much he agreed with that but he’d forgotten about it easily enough when the other Clans started gathering in their camp. EarthClan was first. Floodpaw scrambled out of the apprentices’ den when he heard them. Orangestar and Darkmoon were there, along with three warriors he had met before on patrols. He also spotted Fishpaw and Boldpaw among the crowd and he hurried across the clearing to talk with them. Fishpaw wasn’t interested in conversation but Boldpaw sat and humored him which made Floodpaw swell with pride. 
Shortly after, FallenClan arrived with Flightstar, his deputy Pigeoncover, and three other warriors. Flightstar immediately ducked into Goldenstar’s den to talk with the other leaders but unlike the EarthClan cats, FallenClan didn’t mingle at all with RisingClan’s warriors. Floodpaw frowned. 
“Can you believe they almost didn’t show up?” he asked Boldpaw. 
Fishpaw looked over and said, “I can. FallenClan are a bunch of heartless snakes.” 
“They are?” he asked, squinting at the cluster of cats, two of which looked very similar to himself. 
“Flightstar at least is bad news,” Boldpaw said. “Darkmoon says the patrols have only gotten more standoffish since he took over.” 
“Huh,” Floodpaw said. He used to think that Flightstar was a strong and admirable warrior but now he wasn’t sure. What was a warrior without concern for others? Even he knew how important that was! 
Soon after, Snowstar, Tangletooth, Coyotechaser, and four other SkyClan warriors arrived along with Fernpaw who bounded over when Floodpaw waved at him. 
“Hey!” he grinned, joining them. “You guys ready to tear some rogue pelts?” 
“Definitely!” Floodpaw nodded, kneading the ground with his claws. 
“Shouldn’t be long now,” Boldpaw said. “Everyone’s here.”
“Who all from RisingClan is coming?” asked Fernpaw, looking around.
“Um,” Floodpaw tried to remember. “Me, Sparrowpaw… Goldenstar and Russetfrond, of course, and then Ospreymask, Branchbark, and I think Pantherhaze?” 
“Okay, not bad,” Fernpaw said, looking around.
“So everyone is bringing more warriors than FallenClan, then,” Fishpaw scoffed. 
“I heard they’re the smallest Clan there is,” Fernpaw said. “They don’t even have any apprentices or anything.” 
Floodpaw flicked an ear dismissively. “Who cares,” he said, “We’re all going to battle together! I can’t wait.” They didn’t have to wait long, which was a good thing, given the snow. After a few more minutes, the leaders emerged and Goldenstar jumped onto the Stoneperch to call a meeting. 
“Warriors!” she cried, and everyone fell silent. “We’re finally ready to drive these city rogues from our territory once and for all!” The cats cheered and Floodpaw joined in as loudly as he could. The energy was intoxicating, all of their bodies gathered in the little camp, hearts beating in time, their purpose aligned. He felt like a part of something bigger than himself and it was amazing. 
Goldenstar continued, “StarClan is with us today and our victory has been foreseen! All we need to do is follow through. Thank you all for joining us in this endeavor. It would not be possible without you and for that Orangestar and I are grateful.” Flightstar and Snowstar puffed up a little, looking proud of themselves, although Flightstar was the only one wearing a smirk. 
“Here’s the plan:” said Goldenstar. “We attack in two waves. The first wave will be led by Snowstar and made up of cats with pale coats. We’ll call them the Stoat Group. They’ll blend into the snow and advance stealthily, making way for the rest of us to follow. The second group, who we’ll call Eagle Group, will follow in their pawsteps about four fox-lengths behind.”
Snowstar lifted her voice and said, “Stoat Group will make the first approach, assess the rogue camp, and then attack. Once Eagle Group hears signs of combat, they’ll move in as well.”
Goldenstar nodded, looking a little perturbed. “Stoat Group will be Snowstar, Charredbranch, Pebblefall, Fernpaw, Bogmist, Fishpaw, Pigeoncover, Tumblefang, and Floodpaw.” Floodpaw gasped. He was going to be a part of the first attack? And without anyone else from RisingClan with him? He couldn’t believe it. “Everyone else, you’re with Eagle Group. Are there any questions?” 
No one spoke up, instead looking around to identify the cats they would be fighting side by side with. Floodpaw bumped shoulders with Fernpaw excitedly and Fernpaw grinned back. 
“Alright then,” said Flightstar, standing up. “Let’s form up and move out. Good hunting!” A few of the cats cheered but Floodpaw noticed Goldenstar frown. 
“I’m gonna check in with my mentor,” he said, “and then I’ll be right back, okay?” 
“Okay!” Fernpaw nodded. Floodpaw jumped up and bounded over to the food of the Stoneperch just as Goldenstar jumped down. 
“Hey,” he said, “Thanks for letting me go with Stoat Group!” 
Goldenstar looked down at him and a smile spread over her worried expression. “They need all the cats they can get and you’ve got the right coloring,” she said. “Just be careful. Stay close to the other warriors and don’t let the rogues overwhelm you. We’ll be right behind you but there’s probably going to be a good few seconds where you’re outnumbered.” 
“Got it,” he said, nodding. “I’ll see you there then.” 
“Good luck, kid,” Goldenstar purred, butting her head against his. He pressed up into her touch and then turned to go find Stoat Group. Before he got too far, he ran into Sparrowpaw. 
“Hey,” Sparrowpaw said, stepping in front of him, “Be safe out there, okay?” 
“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, “you too.” 
Sparrowpaw smiled. “Will do.” Floodpaw rubbed up against his brother fondly, then hurried towards Stoat Group. Luckily, nothing else got in his way and soon enough he was standing in a circle of mostly white cats, belly deep in the snow. It was almost surreal. He didn’t think he’d seen this many cats like him in one place all his life. 
“Alright,” said Snowstar, as he and Bogmist joined the huddle, “that’s everyone. Let’s move out. Stay within sight of at least two other cats at all times. Once we get there, watch me for the signal to attack, understood?”
“Affirmative,” said Pigeoncover with an obedient nod. Most of the others nodded or voiced agreement. Floodpaw puffed his chest up and nodded. What an honor to be among such a capable group of warriors!
“Good,” said Snowstar. “May StarClan guide our claws!” She looked across the camp to Goldenstar and the others and made eye contact before nodding and heading up the slope and into the thicker snow. 
“Good luck!” Floodpaw heard Oddstripe calling after them. He looked back at the healers’ den to shoot a grin at his papa who seemed worried. Don’t worry, Papa, he tried to say with his smile, I’ll come back a hero! Just watch!
Stoat Group fell into a small arrow shape with the apprentices in the middle, directly behind Snowstar and Pigeoncover. Floodpaw made sure to check regularly that he could still see Fernpaw and Fishpaw on either side of him as they made the long and silent journey to the border, or rather, to where the rogues had pushed the border. Despite the biting cold, he felt like he was burning with anticipation. It felt like at any moment they would suddenly be in the thick of battle. 
Eventually, Snowstar lifted her tail to stop them, and Floodpaw craned his neck to see the tracks ahead of them, covered heavily with freshly fallen snow. He wanted to ask if they were close but managed to keep a hold on his tongue. Snowstar looked at Pigeoncover and seemed to convey a message without a word. The FallenClan deputy nodded, glanced at Tumblefang, and then the two cats peeled off to the East, making a wide circle. Snowstar glanced at Charredbranch and he grinned, then flicked his tail at Fernpaw and the two of them split off to the West. 
Floodpaw started to vibrate in excitement. This must be it, he thought, we’re about to attack! He opened his mouth to try and catch any scent but the snow had muffled all of it. If the city cats were here, he had no idea where. 
A tense moment passed. Then another. Floodpaw strained his ears for any sound. He couldn’t hear anything above the blood pounding in his own ears. He spotted Charredbranch’s ears poking out of a snow bank to their right. He couldn’t see Pigeoncover anywhere.
Snowstar chirped, like a chattering bird, and all of the cats surged forward in an instant. Floodpaw moved as soon as he realized what was happening, flowing through Snowstar’s pawprints like rain water finding the fastest way down a hill. She bounded down a small slope then turned sharply right. Floodpaw blinked and suddenly there were dens in the snow in front of them. Snowstar crashed through into one and one of the cats inside screamed. 
“What’s going on?!” he heard a stranger cry out.
“We’re under attack!” another voice shouted, “Get up! Everyone up!” 
Pebblefall was in front of him and a rogue rose up to meet him, barring the entrance. Floodpaw shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Fishpaw. She growled in frustration and glanced around so he did the same. There was a second den where the two offshoots had converged and were being held at bay by a big ginger tabby with a jingling collar. There didn’t seem to be another den to attack. 
“Back up!” he heard Pebblefall hiss and the rest of the group hurried back to allow Pebblefall and Snowstar back out into the snow. Floodpaw gaped in disbelief. Had they been driven out so easily?! Then, he saw the genius in their plan. As they retreated, the city cats inside followed, leading them out where the other warriors could more easily attack them. 
A silver speckled tabby dashed out of the den and was tackled by Bogmist before she knew what was happening. A pale ginger she-cat with bengal spots lunged for Pebblefall only to have Fishpaw pounce on her from the other side. Snowstar arched her back in a hiss and a pale silver tabby tom, bleeding from a nasty claw wound above his eye, leapt to meet her. The tom looked just like Fogkit and Floodpaw realized suddenly that he must be Ghost.
Spitting furiously, Floodpaw darted in and grabbed Ghost’s back leg in his teeth. He gave a tug and Ghost stumbled, crying out. Snowstar took the opportunity to lunge for his neck but Ghost managed to roll out of the way. 
“What do we do?” a ginger tom cried from inside the den. More cats huddled behind him, reeking of fear scent. Floodpaw frowned. That wasn’t right.
“Get out of here!” Ghost barked, backing away from Floodpaw as he desperately tried to blink the blood from his right eye. Snowstar pursued him with a hiss but something unnerving twisted in Floodpaw’s gut.
“You will stay and fight!” shouted the ginger kittypet from across the way where he had Charredbranch pinned. “That’s an order!” Several kittypets had poured out of the den to join the fight. Pigeoncover and Tumblefang were trading back and forth between a black and white tom and a brown and white tabby she-cat. Fernpaw danced in circles, avoiding the swipes of two more kittypet rogues. 
Floodpaw immediately sprinted to his friend’s rescue. Snowstar would handle Ghost. Fernpaw needed him. 
He sprang at the bigger of the two, a scarred black smoke tabby tom and landed on his back. He clung for dear life, biting at the tom’s neck, but the kittypet rolled over and he wasn’t quick enough to avoid being crushed under the heavier cat’s weight. 
Still, he had drawn one of the cats off of Fernpaw who called out, “Thanks!” as he finally turned to attack his pursuer. 
Floodpaw rolled to his paws just in time. Right where he had been, the scarred kittypet slammed his paws down with enough force to crack Floodpaw’s sternum in half, he thought. Floodpaw darted to nip at his hind legs and followed the movement to circle the tom as he tried to round on Floodpaw. 
“Big-eared brat!” the rogue hissed, snapping for Floodpaw’s tail. Floodpaw squeaked but managed to leap out of the way just in time. 
A roar sounded on the hill, a dozen cats crying out. Eagle Group descended into the circle of trampled snow and crashed into the rogues. Russetfrond barreled into the tom Floodpaw was fighting and took him to the ground. Floodpaw panted heavily, glad that he’d been saved but unsure how to help now. 
He backed up to try and get a better look at the battlefield. The noise was suddenly overwhelming, a cacophony of yowling, writhing bodies. Now that the second wave had arrived, the Clans outnumbered the city cats more than two to one. All at once, the smell of blood became overwhelming. It wasn’t a tantalizing smell like prey blood. No, it was all wrong, like a sinister corruption of the taste. Floodpaw instinctively crouched low to the ground, trying to get his bearings against the tide of sensory information. 
“We need to go!” shrilled the silver speckled tabby, bleeding heavily from her shoulder. 
“Do not break rank!” bellowed the black and white kittypet, dodging blows from Tumblefang and Branchbark. 
“Kill the damn pests already!” hissed a voice behind Floodpaw and he twisted suddenly to see the ginger tabby kittypet bearing down on him. 
“Floodpaw, look out!” shouted Ospreymask as she heaved herself back onto her feet, a gash on her leg spraying blood over the snow. Floodpaw twisted to try and get out of the way but the kittypet slammed into him, pushing him onto his back in the snow. Floodpaw kicked with his hind legs, felt them connect with the soft flesh of the tom’s belly, and tried to dig his claws deep into it. Meanwhile, teeth snapped at his neck, grazed the skin, then made contact, tearing into the loose skin there. Floodpaw shrieked in pain. 
The tom’s head twisted suddenly, pulled off course by Ospreymask’s claws hooked into one of his eyes. The kittypet roared, spun around, and swiped at her. Floodpaw acted on instinct and lunged, grabbing the skin beneath the tom’s arm in his teeth. He pulled hard. Blood gushed over his face, hot and sour. 
Ospreymask slammed the tom face first into the snow, pulling him out of Floodpaw’s grip. He backed up and pressed a paw against the wound in his neck. 
“Floodpaw!” suddenly Goldenstar was beside him. “Are you alright?” He nodded silently, reeling.
He couldn’t look away from Ospreymask. Fury burning in her eyes, she rolled on top of the rogue, ignored his claws swiping at her face, and sank her teeth into his neck. Floodpaw had never seen such ferocity. The tom twisted his hind legs to strike at her. His claws tore at her belly, blood spattered the ground. She adjusted her grip on his neck and tore. 
Blood, more blood than Floodpaw had ever seen, spurted rhythmically from the kittypet’s neck and bathed the snow red. The tom gurgled and fell over, eyes staring blankly as he shuddered in the throes of death. 
Ospreymask looked at Floodpaw with an intense stare. “Are you alright?” Her whole chin and a good portion of her chest were drenched in blood.
“Uh, yeah-” he said, trying to meet her eyes, but he couldn’t help looking back at the kittypet - at his body.
“Sycamore!” screamed the kittypet she-cat. Suddenly she was tearing across the clearing towards Ospreymask. “You little bitch! I’ll tear you apart!” Robinswoop was behind the kittypet and hooked his claws into her tail, causing her to tumble into the snow. Then Ryestripe was on her, raining down blows. 
“Shit!” cursed Ghost. When he turned around to look, Snowstar swiped out and deepened the wound above his eye. Sparrowpaw leapt onto his back and sank his claws in, forcing him to refocus on the fight in front of him. 
“Sycamore’s dead!” cried the cat who had been fighting Fernpaw. “Retreat!” 
“Retreat!” chorused the street cats. There was a pause as everyone took a step back and the rogues started to flee. Some of the warriors cheered or spat insults at their backs. The brown tabby she-cat snarled furiously and lunged for Ospreymask again, but the black and white tom caught her by her scruff and pulled her back. 
“We have to go, Bella!” he snapped. Tears in her eyes, the she-cat looked at the horde of warriors hovering at the ready around them. They were the only two city cats left. Floodpaw watched the gravity of the situation sink in on her face. 
Backing up against the other kittypet, she glared at Ospreymask and said, “This isn’t over! You’ll pay for what you’ve done! All of you degenerates will pay!” 
“Yeah, yeah!” laughed Tumblefang.
“Beat it, flea bag!” jeered Fishpaw. 
Seething through gritted teeth, the kittypets turned and fled after their compatriots. 
“We are victorious!” shouted Flightstar and the crowd whooped and hollered in response. Cries of triumph went up throughout the group as cats turned to each other with wide smiles and bloody pelts. 
“Sparrowpaw!” Russetfrond barked above the noise, “Go fetch your father!”
“Yes, sir!” cried Sparrowpaw and he bounded over the hill the way they had come. Snowstar started moving among the cats, checking for serious injuries. Goldenstar rasped her tongue over Floodpaw’s neck, cleaning away the blood, and he suddenly came back to his body. 
“Are you alright, kid?” she asked, making eye contact with him. 
“Yeah,” he said, “I think. Is it bad?” He tried to look down at his wound. 
“It’s not that bad,” said Goldenstar, licking over his ears fondly. “We’ll get some cobwebs on it and you’ll be right as rain.” 
“Who got the kill?” shouted Tumblefang, moving through the crowd.
“Ospreymask!” said Robinswoop. A few cats called their congratulations and Ospreymask blushed, running her tongue over her dripping red muzzle. 
“As prophesied!” declared Snowstar with a dawning wonder. “Behold, the raptor that crushed the snake in its beak!” Floodpaw’s eyes widened. That had been a part of the prophecy? Cheers went up among the group. Branchbark appeared to try and lift Ospreymask onto his shoulders and the two of them laughed and began to wrestle. Floodpaw found himself staring at the body again, at the blood coagulating in the cavity she had made in its throat. That had been a person before but now it was just a stiff thing lying in the snow. Floodpaw couldn’t even remember its name. 
“Hey,” Goldenstar said, nudging him. “Maybe we should head back to camp, yeah?” 
“Oh,” he said, tearing his gaze away. “Yeah, maybe.” He looked back at the body. “Is it always so… scary?” 
Goldenstar laid her tail over his back and mumbled. “The first time is the hardest. It gets easier. But it’s a good reminder. Warriors try not to kill to win their battles.” 
“Because it’s scary like that?” he asked, looking back at her.
“And because the dead never get to see their loved ones again. You remember how much it hurt people when Nightfrost died, right?” He nodded. “When possible, you should try not to cause that much hurt. Nothing good ever comes from it.” 
“But we won,” he said. “We won because she killed him.” 
“We did,” Goldenstar said, lips pursed. “We probably could have won without killing anyone. But what happened happened. Sometimes you try your hardest and it still happens like that. We can’t change the past. We can only try and make a better future.” 
“Gotcha…” he said, swallowing as he looked at the bloodstained snow. 
“Floodpaw!” Oddstripe cried, rushing down the slope in front of Sparrowpaw. “Oh, StarClan, are you alright?” He reached them and took Floodpaw’s face in his paws to angle him this way and that. 
“The wound isn’t serious,” Goldenstar said reassuringly. “He fought well.” 
“They both did,” said Russetfrond, coming to join them. Sparrowpaw beamed at his brother but Floodpaw was too busy trying to break free. 
“Papa, stop! I’m fine!” he protested, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. 
“Oh, I was so worried about you, is-” Oddstripe stopped as he looked up and saw the body. “Oh- Stars above!” 
“It’s alright,” Goldenstar said, “He’s one of the rogues.” 
“There aren’t any other casualties,” said Coyotechaser, approaching, “but Pebblefall has a lot of wounds and Furrowleap can’t move his leg properly.” 
“And I should probably get my belly seen too,” said Ospreymask, stumbling over, leaning on Branchbark.
“Oh,” Oddstripe seemed suddenly overwhelmed. “Right, yes, let me look at your belly. If you could fetch Pebblefall…”
“Will do,” said Coyotechaser, moving away. 
Goldenstar reared up on her hind legs and called out, “Everyone who can should start heading back to RisingClan’s camp! Sagetooth and Tangletooth will be waiting to tend to your wounds and there’s a feast of fish waiting for all of you!” The war band cheered uproariously and began to meander back in the direction they had come. 
“Russetfrond,” Goldenstar said, dropping back to all four paws, “take the body over the Thunderpath please. Take whoever you need with you.”
“You got it,” he said, then looked at Branchbark. “Come on, you.” 
“Wh- me?!” protested the warrior. 
“Yes, you,” grumbled Russetfrond, “now hop to it. The faster we get this done the faster you can go back to doing whatever you wanted.” 
“Can I come?” Sparrowpaw asked. 
Russetfrond hummed then shrugged. “Alright. You can be our look out.” Sparrowpaw nodded seriously and moved with them as they went over to the body and began to drag it through the snow. 
Fernpaw appeared and butted heads with Floodpaw. “Was that awesome or what?!” he cried. 
“Yeah,” Floodpaw said, letting the other apprentice’s energy infect him. “You were amazing! When you were fighting those two cats at once-?!”
“Don’t forget when you saved me!” Fernpaw beamed. “I can’t believe you’re younger than I am!” 
“Yeah, well, I didn’t eat death berries and spend a moon in the healers’ den,” Floodpaw joked, swiping playfully at his ear. 
“Hey! I told you that in confidence!” Fernpaw laughed, looking around to see if anyone had heard. 
Floodpaw gave him another shove and said, “I’ll race you back to camp!” 
“Okay, readysetgo!”  Fernpaw blurted quickly and then tore off through the snow.
“Hey! No fair!” Floodpaw laughed and chased after him. Already, the shock of what he had seen was fading away, replaced by the sound of cheerful voices and the promise of a fish dinner with friends. The Clans had won, and he had helped! Thanks to tonight, their home was safe and he was eager to celebrate it.
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Text
Details (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Maybe you and Bucky just weren't meant to be. Alpine (dis)respectfully disagrees.
Based on a prompt from this generator: "Y/N and Bucky break up, but they have a pet and neither of them want to give it up. Then they spend a few days each with the pet separately. But it kinda helps them get together again."
Warnings: mentions of food & alcohol
Word count: 3.1k
A/N: Writing this fic taught me that the Venn diagram of romantic flowers and things toxic to cats is a circle. I wrote this listening to Trust by Brent Faiyaz radio on Spotify, so I have no choice but to share it for any other hip hop/R&B fans <3 If you find yourself enjoying this, feel free to check out my other works here <3
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You were the sun up above, he was fallen snow.
You were the beauty of flower petals, he was the strength of tree roots.
You were a song belted out loud, he was comfortable silence.
It took you a while to fall in love with Bucky Barnes. But,
as they say,
good things come to those who wait.
You were big picture, he was details. You were looking too broadly; he slipped between the cracks. You crept into every corner of his brain until it was an overfilled balloon. Oh, how he had pined until you finally saw him as he saw you. It was torture, those few months before you took his hands in yours, leaning in for that first kiss that ignited every nerve in his body.
The more time you spent with him, the more certain you felt about his psychic abilities. He knew you so well, like he was reading your thoughts. Or seeing the future. Was it an effect of the serum? But he indulged you in his secret: he just paid a painful amount of attention.
When you scratched your throat, he would get you a glass of water. Always three ice cubes.
When you shifted in your seat, he would take your leg and message it, pressing firm circles into the back of your calves.
When your eyebrows scrunched and made that little crease in between, he would kiss it. When he pulled away, it was gone.
He was details.
You mused that he should reserve that expertise for saving the world. He left a flutter of kisses on your knuckles, telling each finger that he would have no better use of his skills than to keep you happy.
You were grander than life. He was sure that if you had been the one alive for a century, you would have lived each year to its fullest. He looked up to you, his idol, his inspiration.
The sound of tape unraveling broke you out of your stupor.
Loud, screeching, sudden.
A fitting call back to reality.
Bending at the knee, Bucky gingerly placed the box in front of you. You knew he could’ve lifted and dropped it with just his pinky finger; it would’ve been the equivalent of you dropping a sheet of paper.
But he was always so considerate of you. Your feelings.
Your reactions.
You.
“I think that’s the last one,” he told you. A lie. He knew it was the last one.
“Thank you,” you said, staring at the box, rotating it to find the cutout handles.
CLOTHES, he had scribbled on every side in thick sharpie, the writing comically large. He was thinking of you, in your new home, surrounded by replicas of the same brown cardboard box. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for you.
It, the situation he had put you both in.
You were larger than life. But he had made you feel smaller than an atom. Like a child's once overused coat that now collected dust in the back of a dark closet.
Your name, so tender on his gruff tongue, drew you out of your thoughts.
You kept your face stony. You didn’t dare think what it had betrayed when you dove into the recesses of your mind.
“Sorry,” you spoke.
“Don’t be,” he murmured. Stay, he thought.
You stood, rummaging in your pocket. Well, his pocket. His sweatpants. You acted like you forgot they were his; he acted like he forgot, too. At least some part of him would still be with you.
A silver key emerged in your outstretched hand. His finger twitched. You noticed that.
He taught you to.
Then he reached out, closing the space between the two of you. His fingers curled over yours, ridding the key from sight.
“Keep it,” he said.
“What?” you said.
“Shared custody,” was his attempt to lighten the mood. As if on cue, Alpine rounded the corner.
you summoned, dad? she seemed to say, grazing the doorway as she made her way over.
Be strong, you had demanded earlier, pointing at yourself accusingly in the rearview mirror. Do not give in. Don’t let him see you falter.
But this beautiful, aggravating, wonderful cat was your whole world (surpassing Bucky, you made sure to tell him regularly), and you felt the tears well up. You thought you had finally run out. What an awful time to find you were wrong.
“Are you sure?”
“Never been more sure,” he said firmly. “I-”
The syllable lingered in the air. He had to be strong, for you. It was the least he could do. He brought this on himself, and he had to see it through. He had no idea how to balance the whole hero thing and being in love thing. He had never done it before. What an awful way to find out he did everything wrong.
He would never forget the day the straw broke the camel’s back. He had told you he needed to reschedule your Saturday date, not knowing the day you had planned out. But Wakanda had requested his and Sam’s presence at a UN meeting; you both knew they seldom called in favors from him. Your lip quivered in failed restraint until you abruptly stood up, nearly toppling over the takeout containers on your lap. Everything poured out of you in that moment, loud and endless and angry. Bucky had shut down, staring straight ahead with hardened eyes until you grabbed your things and left.
He was details. He was a quick pick-me-up after a hard day at work. He was a quiet back rub during a feel-good movie. He was a gentle reminder about that one errand you could never seem to remember.
He wasn't big picture. He wasn't a step back to see the writing on the wall. He wasn't the pieces coming together. He wasn't the painful realization of you weren't happy. Not until it was too late, anyway.
“I'll walk you to your car,” he offered. He hesitated before picking up a few boxes. Don’t be stupid, James. Don’t hope for her to change her mind. “Get the door, doll? Sorry. Could you...get the door, please?”
You managed to nod, though you felt as if every bone in your body had merged into one. You opened the door and watched him walk away with your life in a few measly boxes.
“Get the door, doll?” he had said, dragging in several bags of groceries. You harped on him for having a total of three items in his refrigerator, and stopped your movie night to go to the grocery store at 10pm. The clerks were not happy with you.
“Get the door, doll?” he had said, gingerly holding Alpine in her carrier. He did let you hold one thing that time- Alpine’s medication. You both loved her too much to let Bucky carry anything else but her, especially after the scare she had put you both through.
“Get the door, doll?” he had said, muffled over the armfuls of flowers, chocolates, and balloons. Your last Valentine’s together, though neither of you knew it would carry that title. You had laughed at the ridiculous sight of wine bottles tucked into his back pockets.
“I'm sorry,” he said after loading the last of the boxes into your car. He left enough space in the middle seat for you to still use your rearview mirror.
“Don’t,” you whispered. You had had enough of empty apologies. So do something about it. So end it if you wanted to focus on work. So ask Sam to enlist the help of literally any other superhero. Dr. Banner could get it done in, like, five seconds, you once huffed.
“But I am.”
You knew he was. And that made everything worse. The deadly Avenger with the unstoppable arm, capable of defeating Outriders and Flag Smashers. But to you, just your sweet and gentle Bucky. Your sweet, gentle Bucky, who revealed a side to you that no one else got to see. The hero of incredible strength, who held you like you were the lightest of feathers.
You knew that this was as new a world to him as it was to you. You had many a mirror pep talk reminding yourself of this. But you couldn’t help that empty feeling. You became a longing glance at other couples, kissing and hugging and laughing, while you sat in the empty booth. Another last-minute mission for your mighty hero meant another drink for you, liquid in your cup deterring the glistening in your eyes. You became a forced smile, an ongoing habit at work parties and social gatherings, dismissing everyone’s questions about why the hero wasn’t by your side. You became nostalgia, looking at old videos of Bucky on your phone, because you could count on the memories of the man more than the man himself.
“Goodbye, Bucky,” you said, speaking to your car door handle. You hadn’t met each other’s eyes once this entire time. You were kind of glad. You just knew one look would leave you gasping for air, lungs suddenly rid of breath and replaced with a whirlpool of ocean blue, the gray and cobalt turning your intestines into a loop.
You didn’t stay to hear his response. You got in your car, turned on the engine, and reversed out of the parking lot.
Don’t look back
Don’t look back
Don’t- Oh, for god’s sake. Of course you looked back.
There he was, still and staring. You knew he wouldn’t leave that spot until your car was completely out of sight. Making sure you were safe.
The next few weeks were filled with lots of ice cream, cheap wine, shitty movie nights, social media algorithms feeding you breakup posts, loud bars with too many people, your friends and family checking in, more tears (fuck, they never run out), takeout delivered to your doorstep, maybe an impulse buy or two…
When you were in distress, Alpine would always sit on your lap until your uneven breaths were in line with her quiet purrs. You would stroke her fur and mutter a thank you while you kissed the top of her head. She would eventually be irked by your flurry of kisses and promptly leave, knowing you were okay.
And so you found yourself turning onto an all-too-familiar street, pulling into an all-too-familiar lot, walking up to an all-too-familiar door.
Whatever trance you were in broke as soon as you felt the jagged edge of the key in your hand. You came to your senses long enough to reluctantly send Bucky a text, asking if you could pay your favorite girl a visit.
His response was almost immediate, shining brightly on your phone screen.
Open invite.
You sighed gratefully, though his response didn't indicate whether he would be in attendance. You pressed your ear to the door, and were greeted with silence. Carefully, you entered your former home.
It smelled like amber, like pine, like leather. Like Bucky. It was overpowering, threatening to shut off all your senses until-
Your heart melted as you spotted Alpine, summoned by the sound of the door. You hadn’t even let yourself into the space, instead falling to your knees and spreading your arms right there by the door. She came to you, stepping on your thighs and pulling herself up to your chest. You embraced her, and your tears fell.
You and Alpine stayed like that for a while, until she wriggled out of your grasp and disappeared.
that's enough, she seemed to say. dust yourself off.
You retrieved a few treats from the cupboard, leaving it for her on her favorite spot on the coffee table.
Your rendezvous continued every week. You seemed to have found the magical window of time where Bucky Barnes was never in his apartment. A weekly debrief with Sam, you guessed by the sticky notes on the fridge. You time, Alpine time.
At first, you stayed in front of the door, not daring to leave the space occupied by the doormat. Alpine would come to you, until she wouldn’t.
She coaxed you to the kitchen first, pawing at where Bucky kept her food. You gave her a little extra in her bowl, knowing that Bucky had already fed her. He was religious about it.
If she could roll her eyes, she would. 
i’ll indulge you this time, she seemed to say, nibbling while you sat on the ground and petted her.
Next was the living room. She walked across the cushions, inviting you.
i haven’t got all day, she seemed to say.
You sat next to her, feeling the familiar sink of the cushion beneath you. Though you sat uncomfortably, your spine stick straight and your bum right on the edge of the couch.
You left her treats every time, in the same spot. You didn’t notice how the bag seemed to magically refill every time.
On your next visit, Alpine napped peacefully on the glass coffee table, right next to a thin vase of flowers.
You flinched. He had decorated. For someone else? But as you stepped in, you recognized the blush pink hue of camellias.
Alpine’s eyes slowly opened until she registered your presence. She walked around the vase, tail adding a dramatic flourish. Totally unnecessary, as the plant stood out enough in Bucky’s horrifically monochrome home.
dad said they were your favorite, she seemed to say.
A week later, Alpine purred in your lap as you leaned back on the soft couch, even daring to turn on the television. You were greeted by an array of music videos lining the search history. All the songs you told him to listen to, but thought he never did.
“This one is the best,” you told Alpine, gesturing to the most recent video played. She looked up at you.
dad’s only played it a million times, she seemed to say as she lengthened her body into a stretch.
“Huh,” you said on your next visit. A single magnet sat on the fridge door, a cartoon bear operating a gondola. A souvenir Bucky picked up after a conference in Italy. Also known as, your old message to Bucky when he came home in the dead of night from assignments. It meant, food inside. eat, please, then come to bed. i love you. He would sit his aching body, massaging a bruise or picking at Sam's shoddy gauze work, and enjoy the meal you prepared.
It must have been a fluke, but you found yourself pulling open the fridge door. A nearly empty fridge, save for a styrofoam container perched on the middle rack.
You sat at the kitchen table, enjoying your comfort meal from the Thai restaurant you could never stop praising, while Alpine watched you lazily.
“Tell him thank you,” you told her sheepishly. “I guess.”
i’ll think about it, she seemed to say as she yawned and walked away.
Every time you visited, there was a small gesture to make your stay just a little more comfortable. Your favorite tub of ice cream. Your favorite candle. Your favorite author's new book. This was Bucky's love. It was quiet. It was subtle. It crept up on you, like the smile you didn’t know you were wearing. He was details.
You filled up his fridge, a colorful combination of fruit, vegetables, and snacks. You brought in bags full of throw pillows and blankets, arranging it carefully in his home. The muted colors looked blinding in contrast with the monochrome pieces Bucky preferred.
And this was your love. It was the big-ass elephant in the room, if the elephant also yelled, "Hello! I'm here!" It was a clown car, pouring out in impossible amounts. It demanded to be seen, it demanded to be heard.
“Big it is,” Bucky said, feeling the cool air of the fridge, staring at the arrangement of food that threatened to spill over.
Alpine had the honor of watching you both. There was a lot she seemed to say.
You hummed, turning the key until you heard the lock free itself.
Balloons grazed the ceiling, shaped in cheesy hearts and shining proudly in metallic pink and red. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and roses, asters and camellias greeted you from the tables and countertops. You heard the familiar rhythm of your favorite song filling the air.
Alpine stood in the middle of it all, mewing happily and swiping at one of the many balloon strings.
Bucky stepped out from the doorway that led to his bedroom, just barely. You could make out the blue shirt that stretched over his chest, the wrinkles in his pants, the nervous twitch of his jaw.
"No debrief?" you said hesitantly, stopping short at the door.
"Cancelled. I had something that took precedence.
“Alpine insisted on the decor. I told her it was too much,” he said sheepishly, still gauging your reactions, gesturing towards his pet that paid both of you absolutely no mind.
You stared at him in disbelief, still not sure he was really there, in front of you, but you couldn't help but laugh.
“I worked on a schedule,” he said quickly, “with Sam. We called Clint, we got his advice.”
“Uh-huh,” you said absentmindedly, dropping your bag on a chair.
“Even Scott had some advice, but a lot of it depended on being on house arrest…”
“Sure,” you said, fingers grazing over rose petals.
“All this to say, I'm sorry. And I know you hate hearing it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but if you were-”
“Bucky?” you interrupted, taking one last step to close the gap between you two. In his anxious state, he hadn’t realized you were making your way over to him. Your fingers reached out, the prickle of his stubble tickling your fingertips. He sighed into your touch as you traced the chain of his dog tags, setting off the familiar jingle of metal.
“Yes?” he breathed, barely audible. His arms stayed at his side, heavy as anvils, the desire to trace your curves overwhelming but wondering if he was deserving.
“Say what you need to say,” you murmured, “quickly.” You wrapped your arms around his neck; he lowered his head until your foreheads rested against each other. His hazy blue eyes rested underneath furrowed brows, tense with regret.
“I'll do it right this time.” He spoke to your lips, and you watched as his eyes dipped low, masking the blue behind a curtain of eyelashes. “For you. For us.”
“I'm just here for the cat, Barnes,” you responded with a smile, pressing your lips to his.
He chuckled, feeling sensation return to his arms. He cupped his hands underneath your thighs and lifted. You yelped as you wrapped your legs around his torso and your hands gripped the back of his shirt.
Alpine paused her playdate with a curling ribbon just long enough to watch you two disappear into the bedroom.
my job here is done, she seemed to say.
788 notes · View notes
its-weeping · 8 months
Text
𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 ! ‧ ₊˚ ᗢ
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓
summary: affection isn't scaramouche's forte.
warnings: none, modern!au
pairing: bf!scaramouche x reader
notes: a short little story featuring my favorite cat 😽
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hand in hand, you and your boyfriend stroll through a park in the late evening. traces of your footsteps were embossing in the pearl snow. it was after a christmas party that scaramouche wanted to walk you home, despite him being a bit hesitant.
you assume he was still getting used to being affectionate which you didn't mind, having found his reluctance cute.
humming, you absentmindedly swing your intertwined hands back and forth—purely focused on the snow falling from the night sky.
scaramouche glances at you momentarily before turning away with a flush of his cheeks. when you look back, you take notice of his demeanor and raise a brow.
oh? this is new.
with the sudden emotion, you wonder what had made him this way.
"what's wrong, doll?" you ask, whereas scaramouche only tries to hide his blush even more.
"don't call me that, i'm not a doll."
he replies in a grumble—head still turned away from you. you tilt your head in slight confusion and amusement, wondering if you could see more of the reaction as he was incredibly cute in this state.
"why not? your skin is so fair and pale, your eyes round and vibrant with emotion, it feels like you're going to break if i hold you tight enough."
you tease him with your words, smirking to yourself when scara stopped walking and straight crumbled to the ground in embarrassment. looking over at your boyfriend, you laugh wholeheartedly and bend down to wrap an arm around him.
scaramouche calls your name, "can you not say stuff like that? i don't like it."
he murmurs and you snicker, kissing the side of his head as an apologetic gesture. your boyfriend removes his head from his hands and looks at your grinning face; he frowns.
this puts you off as you watch scara get up, dusting himself off.
"hey! what's with the sudden mood swings?"
you interrogate once you sit on the plush snow, your weight pulling you further down the lifted ground as you make an imprint on the white field.
scara stares at you, his demeanor uncertain while registering your question. ultimately the male doesn't answer, but extends a hand for you to take. you, however, have other plans, so when you reach to hold his hand, you haul him towards you.
scaramouche comes crashing down onto you with a groan, but before he could get up, you switch your positions so he was beneath you.
"c'mon, doll, tell me."
"i told you not to call me that.."
"why not?"
the flustered expression jolted down on your boyfriend's face makes you coo. scara shields the lower half to hide the developing blush and turns his head with furrowed brows—not wanting to look you in the eye after his bursts of emotions. you hum at this, finding him increasingly adorable.
the two of you stay quiet: you not wanting to be the first one to speak, and scara being too embarrassed to say anything.
or perhaps not.
"it's you." your boyfriend says in a low voice, the tips of his ears pink.
evident surprise paints your face as the statement wasn't what you were expecting. however, you were smart enough to understand what he meant, and that certainly boosted your ego.
scara turns to you and heaves at your expression.
"i see.. so, doll, i make you flustered just by looking at my face?"
the male could sense the smugness in your voice—and your use of the nickname; it irked him.
scara's regular irritated face returns at your words and it was as though an arrow pierced your heart. you yell, demanding to know what happened to his previously blushing face.
"you called me 'doll' again. i told you i don't like you calling me that."
you sigh in defeat and dip your head so it was resting on scara's shoulder. in the silence a thought comes to mind and you smirk, leaning so you can whisper in your boyfriend's ear.
"then how 'bout i call you 'mine'?"
you lean back and drink in his reaction. ah, there it is again. the cute look on his face that you couldn't get enough of.
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© its-weeping — do not plagiarize or translate.
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lino-nyangi · 1 year
Text
masterlist | l.mh
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last updated: 14/01/2024
disclaimers:
- all suggestive/smut works depict minho as a softdom and reader as a fem bodied sub unless stated otherwise.
- do NOT interact with my 18+ content if you're a minor, ageless, default or empty blog.
- i do not take requests! i just write whatever comes to my head or if i'm inspired by something
- i try to not be descriptive of the reader's physical features but i do mostly write with a fairly tall, small chested character in mind.
- please keep in mind that english isn't my first language, so i apologize for any grammatical mistakes or if something doesn't make sense haha
[the content on this blog is purely fictional and in no way represents lee minho or stray kids as individuals.]
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— fluff
• prompts/blurbs
bento lunches. sticker. soft cuddly minho. sticky notes. peachy. sleepy night banters. kdrama night. nightmares.
minho on your period.
when you have a past trauma from phonecalls. (hurt/comfort)
childhood friend to highschool crush minho.
barista!minho.
• short drabbles
sweet cravings.
minho comes back from his workout session all tired and craving something sweet. a pleasant surprise waits for him at home.
attention ft. languagexflowers, rachalixie & septicrebel
when you're working on your laptop and he wants your undivided attention.
insomnia.
when minho can't sleep so he makes it your problem.
mutual pining with minho. (prologue for ditto. see: fluff - fics)
your relationship with minho having no labels only makes your feelings for him grow.
moles & kisses.
they say wherever you have moles is where a lover in your past life kissed you the most.
sleep talking.
one bed trope with bestfriend!minho.
morning train.
life was hard. but you and minho had each other, seeking comfort in the small mundane moments you get to spend together.
• fics (2k+)
first snow.
having a crush on your manager was already bad enough. but him offering to walk you to the subway station after work made it even worse... or better?
sweet tooth. (hurt/comfort)
your boyfriend constantly outdoing you by being a giver with acts of service and gift giving as his love language, your complicated relationship with your birthday, it all was making your head hurt.
ditto.
after a long bad day, all you want to do is fall asleep in minho's arms, if only he was yours. you decide enough is enough. mutual-pining-to-lovers. drunk confession.
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— very suggestive
• short drabbles
dizzy.
upon seeing you in nothing but his tank top, minho can't hide his (not so normal) fascination with your small chest.
when dori interrupts events
a morning-after round two is interrupted by dori, the number one cockblocker, literally.
drunk on you.
slow makeout sessions with pleasure-dom!minho.
pussy cat: Prologue. (see: smut - drabbles)
minho jokingly calls you pussycat and upon seeing your -very not normal- reaction, proceeds to be a whole menace about it.
minho had a bad day but so did you.
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— smut
• prompts/blurbs
he controls a vibrator on a dinner night at home. ft. tasteracha
cockwarming him while on your desk.
minchan teasing you (ft. chan). op: channiesposts
poly!minchan.
riding + size kink.
overstimulation with softdom!minho.
you forget your safeword.
more poly!minchan thoughts.
when you accidentally turn him on.
sapiosexual!minho.
cockwarming comp sci major minho. ft. tasteracha
more poly!minchan !!
face sitting with minho.
lingerie try on with minho.
how vocal he is in bed.
thigh riding + dacryphilia.
• short drabbles
dessert with a view.
going on a picnic with no panties on.
tag teamed.
minchan threesome prompts (ft. chan).
addicted to you. op: channiesposts
when you make him beg for his release.
new pleasures.
minho is determined to make you cum from nipple play only.
take it.
minho fucking you on a chair. that's it.
breathe.
when you feel so overwhelmed that he has to remind you of basic survival instincts.
louder.
minho didn't know slow sex could make you this loud. in his dorm.
versatile chef.
ogling at your boyfriend's hands while he cooks makes you blurt out that you've never been fingered before. he takes matters into his own hands. literally.
ambidextrous.
being able to use both hands just as well can be very useful, minho knows that better than anyone else.
floaty.
after being fucked into a trance where you can't tell what's safe or not, minho has to make sure you're taken care of.
sweet treat.
for minho's birthday, you cater to both his love for sweets and your body.
day & night.
your boyfriend fucked deliciously, but he made love just as well, if not better.
pain perdu. (prologue: garlic bread)
there was nothing better than when you and minho's days off align. so you catch up on some much needed sleep, and love making.
zipper: the remix.
minho's not done making you swoon over him. so he throws you a second bait. this time it's zipped pants.
adore you.
giving your pretty boyfriend a handjob while he goes absolutely feral. that's it. spit, cum play. nasty but sweet.
garlic bread. (prologue for pain perdu)
it's always like this— you and minho using each other to forget about the day, but only because you're the healing elixir for one another.
• fics (2k+)
pretty boy.
taking your chance to take care of your dom after a long day, you shower him with praise until he submits under you... or not? body worship go brrr.
pussy cat.
a joke about minho loving his cats more than you takes an unexpected turn as he tries to show you that he loves you the most.
roommates.
minho knows what he's doing is wrong, but what's a little jerking off to the thought of his unsuspecting roommate?
lipstick stains.
minho knows better than to ruin your makeup in a party, but something about your smudged lipstick makes his head spin. (aka the zipper incident)
© lino-nyangi on tumblr. please do not repost to other platforms, translate or claim as your own!
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kingmagnificoofrosas · 3 months
Text
Random Magnifico headcanon facts I have solidified in my mind as canon ✨️
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He's a foodie 🍽
He loves good food. Anything from meat to fruits. He isn't neccessarily picky but he's all - the eye eats first - so if the food looks suspicious or sloppy, he won't touch it. The result = he'll become whiny and grumpy and dramatic. I'm starving over here, hello!
Adding to the above ⬆️ He hates beer. Don't bring it near him. He can't understand why some people drink it. He's a wine guy. Red wine all the way! But not dry! If you serve him dry wine, he'll spit it out and question why he's been served sewage water.
Oh and also, do not - NEVER - give this man too much caffeine!! Too much caffeine and he'll be off to the worst shenanigans, like a cat having zoomies.
Yes, he'll prank his guards, he won't stop telling jokes and laugh at them himself, he'll do stupid things. (Just a big kid running rampant in his palace)
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He's got a sweet tooth
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Candies, cookies, cakes, pastries .... he can't help himself and no one really knows except Dahlia (yes she kept that secret.) He can shamelessly eat sugar and not gain one gramm fat. (He has a bombastic metabolismn and his muscles burn everything up as if it's nothing)
He makes his own bubble bath solutions, mud masks etc. (and God forbit anyone touches them)
He loves to bathe fancy and rejoices over the foam. Also, rose petals are a must and he dunks several essential oils in because if it aint smelling nice, he won't go in. Also, his well kept hair, beard and skin doesn't come from nothing. He's his own selfcare master. And duh does he sing while bathing!
He loves snow
He can become as happy as child when he sees as much as one flake floating down. Also, if no one's looking, he's throwing snowballs at his guards for a little snicker, knowing no one will suspect him. It's just his goofy, silly, childlike playfulness coming through once in a while.
He has 0 reactions to bugs, spiders etc.
That man can pick up a tarantula without batting a lash.
He's a cat person
He likes all animals but he favours felines because they're elegant and uncomplicated.
He's frustatingly good at games
Magnifico beats you in everything from cards to chess with so much ease it will send you into a crisis.
He can be both night owl and long sleeper
If Magnifico stays awake all night it's almost always because he studies or works on something. ( And he works and studies vigorously) If something has his attention, he goes into hyper focus and oftentimes forgets his surroundings. You could send a stampede running through his study and he wouldn't notice.
On the contray, if he has a day where he needs more sleep (and he has those. Partly because of emotional exhaustion steeming from his ptsd) God forbit you wake him! If he's woken however and still in need of sleep, there are several stages you could be faced with.
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- The whiny, oversensitive (he's so tired, he gets emotional over the silliest things.)
- The : I'm so tired, I'm 5 seconds from passing out, and I don't care for anything anymore but sleep.
- The moody, dramatic grump (worst of them all. Comes with a death glare) Don't talk to him, don't even look!
His favourite flowers are roses 🌹
Roses remind him of his mother - Rosalia, who was named after that flower and loved them immensly. This is also why he named his kingdom Rosas.
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I got a bunch more, but I cannot reveal them yet because they will be mentioned in my upcoming story 🫢
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landwriter · 1 year
Note
The tiny emissary is everything to me
Her death causes minimal interruption to her goings on. It’s peaceful and in her sleep and she waves death off with a flick of her tail and continues to trot along in front of dream
When the appointment comes, and it does, for Death had been honest when she told her brother she wouldn't make another exception for him, the cat is sleeping. It is a grey afternoon in November, and the first snow of the season, arriving strange and early, has just started to fall.
She has, Death knows, through regular coffees with Hob and occasional walks with Dream, lived a long and fulsome life. There is no fairness in her function, but if there was, she thinks it would be the life that such a beloved cat deserved.
As a rule, most creatures are less afraid than humans are to walk with her to the Sunless Lands. They have not worked so much to forget her existence.
So she expects the lack of reaction, when she greets The Cat with a warm smile.
The little black ball of fur, though now streaked a bit with white too, unfurls herself from her body in this world, and stretches, yawning wide as a lion. She licks a paw and looks at Death, unsurprised.
"Hello, little one," says Death. "It's time."
She adds, because she can't help herself, and because it's true, "You brought my brother and his husband a great deal of happiness, you know."
The Cat blinks at her, and Death feels a little silly. She obviously knows, of course. Death recalls all the stories she's heard of her, and instead offers, "Have you heard of the Sunless Lands? They're a fine place to explore."
She waits for the cat's reply, which is perhaps her mistake, because cats are far less inclined to follow those who would wait for them. Or perhaps, she thinks, what happens next would have happened anyways, the reaction she did not foresee:
The little black cat flicks her tail and walks away.
Death trails behind her as she makes a circuit of her former home, hopping up onto every windowsill to admire each view one last time, visiting each of her favourite spots to nap, sniffing a bit at a bowl of kibble she is no longer quite corporeal enough to eat. When they return to the living room, to the couch where she's still curled up, Death thinks she's ready.
"Shall we?" she asks.
The cat blinks.
Then Hob comes in, elbowing through the door with arms full of groceries, already talking. "I've got you tuna, my dear, don't tell-" and then sees Death and brightly says, "Oh, hello."
Then he looks past her and sees only one cat, the one curled still on the paisley couch, not the one twining around his legs in happy greeting, and says, "Oh."
"I'm sorry," says Death. She wishes he hadn't come home to this.
"No," says Hob, although his hands are trembling a little as he sets the groceries down on the counter, "Please don't be, it's only your job. We've had a good run. Almost two decades," he says, and smiles a little wetly. "Just about, anyways. Long life for a cat."
"But it must seem awfully short to you, Hob," she says.
"Yes. It does," he says and swallows. "Is she already-?"
"We were just leaving," says Death. The Cat looks up briefly from her circles around Hob's legs, and then goes back to ignoring her.
Hob squares his shoulders a bit and smiles, truly warmly this time, and Death sees again, so clearly, how this is the man for her brother.
"Well," he says, "I know you're busy, but would you like a cuppa before you go?"
So Death finds herself sitting in her little brother's kitchen, sipping herbal tea and talking to his kind husband about all this unseasonable snow, lovely though, isn't it, this is exactly why they moved out of the city. Hob is not looking in the direction of the living room. The Cat is, in any case, actually sitting on his lap and staring very at smugly at Death.
When their tea is done, and Hob reluctantly stands to do the washing up, she leaps down to stalk toward the front door, and Death is about to try and whisper to her that they actually do, really, need to go, that it will hurt her to keep staying, the front door opens again.
Dream is not a human. He sees her there, and crouches at once to greet her, murmuring endearments in, Death thinks, Akkadian. Something about a dark queen of the night. Something about a million slain enemies and sharp silver claws.
Hob is still holding a violently floral tea towel and drying a mug when he turns around, confused, and understands at once.
"She's still-" he starts.
"Yes," says Death, at the same time Dream says, "Yes," and glares at her. She thinks as far as jurisdiction goes, this is rather hers, but then again, Dream is Hob's husband, and they're in his kitchen.
Hob looks over to the approximate spot where The Cat is receiving incorporeal but no less satisfying scratches from Dream.
"Well, goodbye, my sweet one," he says. "Thanks for trusting me. Thanks for letting me be your friend."
He looks at Dream, then, as if he expects him to say something too.
Death looks at her little brother as well, who seems not nearly as upset as she would've guessed. He unfolds himself and stands, then opens the door again.
The Cat walks out, like she was waiting to be let out this whole time, leaving no paw prints behind her in the fresh-fallen snow.
Dream crosses the room and touches Hob's face. It is so tender that Death almost looks away. "Hob, you need not to say goodbye. She is not going to the Sunless Lands. She is going with me. To the Dreaming."
"Oh," says Hob softly, and then kisses him, and Death does look away then.
Dream never even took his shoes off, she realizes.
Her little brother eventually extracts himself from his husband and nods to Death.
"Sister," he says, with a satisfied little smile.
Then he walks out after The Cat, and neither of them look back.
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amyysfics · 5 months
Text
skz - "bet."
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pairing: felix x bff!gn!reader warnings: fluff, pining, reader eats popcorn summary: you make felix watch your favourite movie word count: 850
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©amyysfics (2023) All Rights Reserved - Reposting/Modification of any kind is not tolerated.
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Giggles, snorting and all kinds of laughter filled the room. You were barely able to catch your breath, when a voice broke through the sound of heavy breaths and occasional giggling. "What the fuck kind of movie are you watching, that is making you laugh this hard?", your best friend asked.
The both of you sat in a video-call on Discord. He had been playing a game, which you assumed must have been League of Legends, judging by his continuous screaming, "Noooo!" and "What are you doing? We had it!". You had turned on your favorite movie eventually. None of this was a rare occurrence. You hung out with Felix this way whenever possible - both of you doing your own thing while being in each others company.
"I'm watching what is possibly the funniest movie ever, thank you very much for asking.", you looked straight at the camera, poking out your tongue. How dare he judge this amazing piece of media? Out fo the corner of your eye you could see your blue-haired friend roll his eyes. Though, before he had the chance to tease you back, you thought of a deal. "Why don't you watch it with me? I can restart it. And if you end up liking it and enjoying your time, I will treat you to a smoothie!"
The idea made Felix' eyes light up. He loved having movie nights, especially with you. And he was was being honest with himself, he couldn't give less of a shit what you guys were doing, as long as he got to spend time with you - his best friend, that he just so happened to have a not so tiny crush on. She he did what every sane idiot in love with his best friend would do; He responded with as little words as he could as to not let you hear the shakiness of his voice, "Bet."
You left your seat for a minute to grab a fresh bottle of water and Felix used the time to finish (and lose) the round of League he was still in. It took you a few moments to come back, so he made sure to to set his screen up properly. He could click on one of the images to have them fill up almost the entire screen, the rest of it being smaller at the bottom. After making everything look the way he wanted to, he noticed you walking back - a bottle of water in one hand and a bowl of fresh popcorn in the other.
The Australian silently cursed himself for agreeing to this. It wasn't the first time you watched a movie together, but he would usually be the one streaming it - the movie taking up his entire monitor. Today, for the first time, he had the chance to observe your reactions. He noticed the way your eyebrows scrunched together mere moments before you laughed. He saw the way you attempted to hide your shy smile as the two main characters kissed. He could even tell that one strand of your hair seemed to be bothering you - constantly tickling your neck. Felix knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from brushing it away if he actually sat next to you.
"Yongbok!", your less than quiet voice ripped him out of his thoughts. You glared at the boy, or at least it looked that way to him. "Were you even watching?", you clicked with your tongue, fishing through the last few pieces of popcorn for the best one. "I was! I loved it!, he lied. Your best friend put barely any of his attention towards the movie. You smiled a little, popping the chosen popcorn-piece in your mouth, "Right? The part where the cat rolls in the snow is so good!" Felix nodded immediately, "It's probably the best part."
"You couldn't stop feeling your heartbeat get faster, almost pounding out of your chest, knowing you caught him in a lie. "Lix, first of all, there wasn't a single cat in the movie and it's set in summer. And second-", you leaned closer to the camera, "I can see the reflection of your screen on your computer-case a little bit. You had my camera on full-screen-mode the entire time.
His body reacted faster than his brain allowed him to come up with a witty response. A blush crept up to the tip of his ears in an instant. And even his neck turned about three shades darker. He tried to think of a response - any explanation, but he couldn't get a single word to come out.
"You know what?", you broke through the silence, smiling, "I'll still treat you to that smoothie. I mean it looks like you had a good time, no? Pick you up tomorrow at five?", you winked. When did you get so smooth?
Felix' blushed even harder at this chance of a date with you, even that was even possible. But what he didn't know, was that you were just as excited about it, as he was. So he gathered all the courage he could.
"Bet."
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