#shimmering like smoke | explorer

[down-the-winding-corridors]

Hi! :D

I'm Mica! Have you seen any cool rocks recently?

@geologist-osha

Explorer blinks, surprised someone came up to her. "Ah, hello. I've seen a few. None that I have on me, I'm afraid. Why do you ask?" They ask, politely.

#shimmering like smoke | explorer #memories swim | ask #geologist-osha

[hoseoksluna]

ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head. 

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way. 

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex. 

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past. 

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case. 

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it. 

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you. 

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand. 

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym. 

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top. 

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm. 

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream. 

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious. 

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle. 

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach. 

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.” 

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can. 

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too. 

“Can I have the lollipop, please?” 

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?” 

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny. 

“In my mouth.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth. 

“Open.” 

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat. 

You do open your mouth for him, however. 

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning. 

You pretend you don’t see it. 

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.  

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.” 

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear. 

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake. 

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.” 

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?” 

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?” 

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm. 

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it. 

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down. 

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet. 

And then, he drags you to his car. 

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers. 

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing. 

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.” 

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response. 

Fuck. 

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?” 

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips. 

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you. 

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken. 

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it. 

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek. 

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.” 

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come. 

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer. 

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last. 

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?” 

“I need to come, please.” 

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?” 

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?” 

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with. 

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan. 

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction. 

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss. 

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied. 

He grins at you. “I bet.” 

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.” 

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?” 

“Yes, so bad, please.” 

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe. 

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness. 

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.” 

He wants more of your taste. 

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds. 

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.” 

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop. 

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.” 

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed. 

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough. 

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?” 

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.” 

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?” 

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.” 

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream. 

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?” 

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear. 

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.” 

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them. 

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth. 

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms. 

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin. 

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good. 

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.” 

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory. 

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced. 

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you. 

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him. 

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties. 

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs. 

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him. 

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.” 

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else. 

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently. 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.” 

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first. 

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them. 

“I love you.” 

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time. 

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

[bublechu]

Synopsis: A sudden commotion causes to rattle you awake. Luckily a certain feline was there to soothe you sleep.

{{Poppy Playtime}} Pair: Catnap/reader

Relationship: Platonic (reader is a child)

{{Potential}} Trigger Warning: Grammatical errors, Distinct implication of violence, blood mention, suggestive (implied to be a gore), hallucination mention, Isolation but remain ambiguous if it's from Catnap or the Scientists or the reader itself, implication of reader being an orphan, catnap is bigger than the reader, catnap is not Theo, Spoilers, Vaguely implied Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐚.Admin's note: Inspiration from @yanderes-galore and their masterpiece ✨ might take/use their au if allowed 👉👈

The first sight upon your awakening is the vibrant hues of the interior of the playground. Accompanied by a playful rhymes designed to soothe or/and engage the childrens. The cushioned floors offer safety, should they stumble or fall from their antics, while the structures of twisted slides, hidden tunnels, and roped ladders await for exploration.

Then there's also the smiling critters.

A TV shows that were meant to entertain the children while their parents are away. One of the mascots managed to catch your mild interest. Its name is- ah, catnap? You're uncertain. Lacking socialization with others nor interest in the cartoon-ish group made you quite an airhead in their existence despite their increasing popularity. But Somehow, the scientists deem it fitting to assign one of the plush creatures to you. Initially strange, you couldn't help but question why the cat was chosen to be your companion. The scientists dismissed your inquiries, stating that Catnap would keep you company if you started to feel a tad lonely.

Since then, the cat has remained by your side, and as you spend more time together, you begin to notice peculiarities about the plushie. It seems to possess a human-like speech and behavior, eager to participate in various activities with you. Despite this, it still retains its resemblance to a real cat, often purring and cuddling like a genuine pet. However, the strangest feature of all is its ability to emit a unique smoke that makes the drowsiness cloud your mind.

It's strange and quite alarming to say the very least but, hey. At least you have a companion now. Right?

Suddenly, a deafening crash shattered the silence, breaking the tranquility in the air as you startled awake. Disoriented and still fatigued, you softly rub your eyes as you fumble out of your assigned bed and stride forward. The eerie silence has yet to be cutted again by ear-piercing screams through the other side. Although quite subtle, somehow still clear. This piques your curiosity as you stride forward and investigate the situation.

As you reached the door, you cautiously peered through the small gap you'd created, surveying the surroundings. Usually, there were guards or scientists patrolling the colorful hallway, but now, there's currently none. Odd.

Stepping outside your room, you embarked on an exploration of the area. The farther you venture from your room, the more the drenching smell intensifies. Accompanied by a crimson hue painting the interior and occasionally, a heavy footsteps and a faint gutteral growl. You've reached the very end of the facility as you come face to face with a large door.

Just as you are about to reach for the knob, a sudden familiar purring sound broke through the eerie silence, causing you to pause in your tracks. Turning a corner, you were greeted by the sight of Catnap, your oversized plush companion, sitting calmly on the floor. Its vibrant purple fur seemed to shimmer in the faint light along the moon collar on his neck. It's large, hallowed eyes stares at you with an almost knowing gaze. As its tail swayed around playfully.

Catnap? What are you doing here? You rotate your body as you stride to pick it up. a mixture of curiosity and suspicion washing over you. The plush creature tilted its head slightly, as if in response, before emitting a soft purr and nuzzle into your hand. It's long tails, loosely wrapped around your arms as it leans and licks your face in a reassuring manner and an attempt to distract you. The gesture made you recoil away as you notice a newfound smell that lingers around his usual lavender fur. It's the same smell that has been wafting in the air yet you're unable to pinpoint its exact origin.

"Friend... stay..!." Catnap's voice box vibrates, sounding slightly disoriented as it tries to pull you away. You shake your head, brushing it off as you attempt to inquire about the event unfolding and the disappearance of the facility's workers.

you adamantly approach the door, intent on seeing what's behind it but before could move any further, a faint red smoke fills the air, causing you to stumble. Thankfully, Catnap's tails wrap around your waist, preventing you from falling as your body goes limp. The purple feline gently lifts you onto its furry arm and carries you on its shoulder, leading you away as you weakly squirm, trying to regain your senses. Despite your protests, the cat remains unbothered, continuing to purr and softly scratch your back as hallucinations begin to cloud your mind.

As Catnap carries you back towards your room, your senses begin to fade as the hallucinations growing more vivid with each passing moment along the fatigues gnawing at the back of your eyes. Upon reaching your room, Catnap gently lays you down on the soft cushions, its purrs growing louder as it suddenly curls close to you. As you slowly drift into an uneasy sleep Catnap remains by your side. acting like a guardian as he continues to purr and nuzzle at you.

... Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the door, a scene of carnage and horror unfolds, the aftermath of Catnap and the toys action around the factory. Yet within the wall of your room, all is peaceful, the only sound the gentle purring of your loyal companion as it cuddles with you, guarding you from the terrors that lurk beyond.

#🐚.Admin writing #poppy playtime #catnap x reader #sleepyangel

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 13 || The heavens and us

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 3k+

Auteurs note: We ballin!!

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

The people on the street are in a state of panic, and rightfully so. 

In the not-so-far distance, it’s becoming more obvious that whatever went on between the Jade Chamber and the rising waves had affected Liyue Harbor in its entirety. 

In between the mountains, the Jade Chamber lays in ruin. Even before hitting the ground, it has been fragmented into multiple chunks. And with no walls to keep all of its previous furniture inside, its contents litters throughout the paths in the surrounding area.

For a while longer, smoke surges from the wreckage—as the initial fall had set fire to the cloths and paper inside. Candles had been tossed over and caught whatever they could during the fall, burning all of the silk tapestries with the Creator’s face and history until it leaves nothing but dust in its wake.

The harbour doesn’t fare better under the destruction. 

The people in the area have had enough time to evacuate, but the docking boats and multiple shops are flooded, destroyed by the large waves that came crashing down not too long ago.

ㅤ

Often when reaching this point, you’d find out that the Adepti and the Qixing assisted the newly reborn geo Archon with his task of protecting his city. 

However, you will never find out why they are bound to fail.

Going south from Wangshu Inn, leads you through the Guili Plains once more. Your previous journey through this area had been relaxed, with little to none interactions from anyone aside from Lumine, Paimon, and Dainsleif. But with pandemonium reigning the nation ever since the Jade Chamber fell, you aren’t surprised to see the crowds grow thicker. 

Around you, people are both leaving and heading towards Liyue Harbor. You aren’t certain why anyone would be going towards the city in its current state, but you assume it has to do with people believing in the geo Archon and seeking shelter in times of uncertainty.

Of course, you are part of the same group, but your reasons for heading towards Liyue Harbor are quite different. 

Earlier, you had remembered an interaction with a certain someone who could give you clarity on the current situation. 

"Call my name." 

A hand holds yours in a gentle but firm hold.  The workers in Wangshu Inn had been occupied well before sunrise, but the morning remained fresh. Rays of sunlight hit the side of Xiao’s face, bringing forward the teal streaks in his hair and a golden shimmer in his eyes. 

His expression holds concern for something. You don’t ask him about it.

Xiao speaks again. His voice sounds clearer this time. 

"Call my name if you need me."

You’ve spent more than enough time with Xiao to know that he would help you if you needed it. Like when he suspected the Fatui to be a danger, or when he teleported you away when the Jade Chamber fell down—he'd always been there for you.

Another reason for you to remember him was the fact that the Adeptus would be at the geo Archon’s side. If you called out his name, he could tell you what was going on in Liyue Harbor.

However, when you call out his name, he doesn’t answer.

“Xiao?” You say it again, this time a bit louder.

You’re unsure if you should be concerned about the silence that follows. He’s proven to be capable of handling many difficult situations but something within makes you feel uneasy at the lack of response. 

The white haired pixie floats over to your side.

“Maybe he is busy? Whatever lights we saw flash out from the Jade Chamber during the fight, it had to have been elemental energy. Paimon thinks the Adepti might’ve helped during the battle.” Paimon turns away to face Lumine, who’s busy trying to keep the chaos at a distance from the three of you. 

And as you follow your eyes in the outlander’s direction, a strangely familiar carriage flies by. 

For a moment, your attention is captured. Instead of Lumine, your eyes are glued to the vehicle.  

At first glance, it doesn’t look extraordinary. It has a simple wooden base with a white frame, made out of cloth, perched atop it, keeping the contents inside hidden. And as you look at it, you realise that instead of the carriage looking familiar to you, it’s the man with fiery red hair that chimes familiarity. 

With a stern and concentrated look, he rides the horse that pulls the carriage along. The stranger’s red eyes are always focused in front of him to make sure no accidents were caused by the chaos on the roads. 

And then his eyes move to you. 

Your cloak should’ve been concealing you, but with the mass panic, you had assumed no one would be concerned about your resemblance to the creator. Everyone would’ve been distracted and no one should’ve noticed you. Unless they felt your aura. 

So, did he?

The moment passes as quickly as it came, for the carriage nor the red haired man stops to confirm your suspicions. Instead, a small hand settles on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts once more.

With a smile, Paimon gently tugs the cloak down for you, and once she finishes, you return your mind to the current situation: Xiao being unresponsive as Liyue Harbor remains in shambles. 

You frown, an expression that remains hidden since no one can see your face with the fabric casting a shadow over it. At last, you respond to Paimon. “Xiao might be busy, but that doesn’t help our current situation.”

Lumine looks at Paimon and then turns to you. She seems hesitant and takes a second to speak up. “Is the gnosis still working?”

Your eyes fall upon the orange rays escaping the fingers that encase the object. A soft hum of recognition is sent in response. “I think so. It’s been pulling me along towards Liyue Harbor.”

The outlander is silent for a second. Once she makes sure the crowds are safe, Lumine walks over to you. “Is there a chance that the geo Archon still has power over it?”

Confusion makes you stumble over your first words. “No. If he could, he would’ve told me or helped me with regaining my memories.” 

Then, she explains her questions. “I think Paimon was right. It might be worth it to follow the gnosis’s pull for now.” Lumine looks at the gnosis before her eyes trail back to you. She continues to talk,

“Perhaps you did resonate with it. Your aura has been growing weaker ever since we left camp in the morning, so the gnosis might’ve been absorbing your aura so it can communicate.”

Indifferently, you nod. “Maybe. Either way, we should continue. The crowds don’t seem to calm down and we’ll never know the reasoning behind the gnosis’ activation if we stop now.”

A while back, when Paimon had expressed her theory about the gnosis needing to recognise your aura, you felt like you were one step closer to figuring out what you needed to do. 

Somehow, that feeling of excitement and relief was now gone.

If you were honest with yourself, you’ve forgotten why your lost memories were supposed to be troublesome in the first place. If the geo Archon recognised you, wasn’t that enough? You are the Creator, after all. 

But then again,

if you are Teyvat’s Creator, 

where did you come from?

As you approach Liyue Harbor,  an eerie absence invades the landscape that surrounds you. Not a single soul or creature is in sight—a stark contrast to the bustling roads you previously experienced. You halt to look at Lumine after you’ve observed the roads. 

“Where did you think they went?” You ask.

She stops in her tracks. “The people?”

You nod. 

“The people…” Lumine scans the empty streets. The treelines separating you from the wilderness of the Guili Plains are completely abandoned. No birds are flying in the sky and there are no tracks of anyone else having passed this area. 

It is just you, her, and Paimon. 

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

“Paimon knows!” Your white haired eagerly interjects. “The geo Archon must’ve evacuated them.”

Your grip tightens on the gnosis, its weight a reminder of the journey ahead. 

A despondent expression settles onto your face as you caress the metal outlines separating you from the contained geo energy within. The godly object whines at your standstill, urging you to continue now that your destination is within reach. 

Despite Paimon's optimism, a nagging doubt gnaws at your resolve. It might’ve been the pull from the gnosis, or the fact that you had no idea what just occurred, but you needed to move forward.

You hear soft footsteps move in your direction until Lumine stands next to you on the hill. Her eyes follow your gaze to Liyue Harbor.

From here, everything looks still. The smoke from between the mountains has calmed down and the waters are quiet. But however still it might look, destruction is evident the longer you look at the view in front of you. 

Somehow, with Lumine by your side, you feel more confident. And despite her own destiny, time and time again, she has chosen to stand with you. It’s something you can’t properly appreciate because it means too much to you. 

Your mind drifts to Dainsleif and your last interactions with him. 

You feel bothered about his departure. Sure, there was something peculiar about him, something you couldn’t figure out, but he made you feel at home. Despite the time spent with him being sparse, it felt like you should’ve known him—as if you had met before. 

His entire appearance and disappearance felt like a puzzle you can’t quite solve. 

Why did he leave?

But with a more urgent mystery ahead, and things appearing to be more complicated as time passes, you decide to push him and your doubts aside to focus on the problem in front of you.

“Do you have any idea why those waves emerged?” You ask Lumine. 

“No.” she moves her head sideways to look at you. Her blonde hair flies over her shoulders when a soft breeze passes you. She furrows her eyebrows slightly before they relax again. Her golden eyes shine in the golden hour. “I'm not sure. Do you think that the gnosis activating is connected to all of this?”

Without looking at it, you brush your finger over the object. Its gleam has turned into a beautiful golden colour, mirroring the sun and Lumine’s radiance, growing brighter the closer you get to Liyue Harbor. The small thing continues to be a mystery to seemingly everyone around you—even the geo Archon. Aside from saving Liyue Harbor, going back with the knowledge of knowing that you’ve potentially resonated with it…

Somehow everything seemed to be falling into place.

After a moment, you remove the cloak from your head. With ease, Lumine’s eyes find yours. “I’m not sure why, but the gnosis becomes intenser the closer we get. It must mean something , at the very least.” You respond.

Paimon chimes in from Lumine’s other side with an encouraging tone. “I’m sure we can uncover what happened in the city if we work together!”

The pixie’s smile is bright and infectious, a stark contrast to your doubt, and yet it never fails to make you feel more at ease. 

Facing away from the view, you respond.

“Let’s continue. The journey won’t be long anymore.”

Somewhere between your last stop and the waypoint that’s on the hill before Liyue Harbor, the gnosis starts to freak out. The pulsations that it produces becomes less controlled— frenzied. 

If you hadn’t felt its usually softer vibrations prior to this moment, you would’ve thought the shakes were coming from an earthquake. Unfortunately, you are familiar with this feeling and know something is about to go terribly wrong.

“Wait, we need to stop.” You stand with shaking legs upon the stone and dirt below your feet. These convulsions are not coming from the city, but your hand. 

A second after you feel it, Lumine’s hands extend to her sides as she tries to balance herself. Her eyes are wide, before they dart around, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

You call out to her. “The gnosis, something is wrong!”

“What?” Her voice fades as the geo energy energy becomes louder. A buzzing sound gives you a headache. You watch Paimon lift her hands to her ears as she shakes in the air. 

Again, you try to call out. “The gnosis!”

Lumine tries to reach her hand out towards you. While you were travelling, you and Paimon walked behind her. Conversing while she kept her eyes open for danger. Now, you regretted the distance between you and her. 

You reach your free hand out to her, but then a deep rumble erupts followed by the ground shaking. Perhaps due to its suddenness, or the sheer power behind it, you stumble forward and then down. Your knees hit the ground first, and you brace yourself with your palms forward when the earth convulses again. 

The air from your lungs forcefully escapes your lips when Paimon lands on your back right after. She is much smaller than you are, so it doesn’t damage you any further, but it gives you discomfort and more disorientation. 

After a second of recovery, you pull your head up from the dirt. 

A short distance separated from you, you see the gnosis lying between small pebbles and rocks on the ground. Its golden glow shines brighter than the twilight sky, and then it dims again to a soft orange glow, before it radiates the same liquid gold as before. 

Something is wrong. Something is really really wrong.

Paimon is still recovering from her fall when you gather your arms below your chin. While the ground continues to shake with vigour, you’re able to get yourself up halfway with a push to your limbs, making the pixie on your back roll to the side and fall next to you.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Lumine down on the ground as well. She sits a few meters away from you with her hands stabilising her body at her sides. The outlander seems to have taken less of a fall than either you or Paimon did, so her agility must have aided her somehow. 

Be that as it may, something is wrong with her too . Her eyes are fixated on the skies and she seems to be caught in a stupor.  

Without the weight of a child on your back, you have free reign to move and grab the gnosis. You refocus your mind and you crawl over. 

While the ground shaking below makes it harder to reach, it’s only a few arm-lengths away. Surprisingly, the object itself doesn’t seem affected by the vibrations. But perhaps that shouldn’t have been surprising at all, considering it was made out of pure geo energy.

You stretch your arm forward and fingers curl around the gnosis. Soft flesh touches the metal, and right as you’re about to close your hold, it dissipates. 

Soft dust escapes your fingers and your eyes widen as your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

It doesn't make sense. How can a gnosis suddenly disappear in front of you? 

Your fingers grasp at the ground below, desperately trying to catch the pixels of what remains before the gnosis is fully gone. 

A flicker of vulnerability flashes through your eyes. The gnosis was your only current lead but it’s now lost, leaving you with an empty feeling. Then, your eyebrows furrow together, trying with all your power to cling to your composure and fight the storm of frustration and disconsolation raging within. 

You bite your lip when the corners of your mouth begin to tremble. With each passing moment, tension rises in your body, and then before you can break, Lumine grabs your arm and yanks you up. 

“We need to run!” Lumine looks over her shoulder, and when you follow her gaze—you see it.

An elongated structure was descending from the heavens to the ground below. With it came a palpable tension that suffused the air, thickening it with each passing second. The massive silhouette of the nail-like stone loomed ominously against the twilight sky, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow Liyue Harbor whole. 

As it continues to plummet, the ground below quivers beneath its impending impact, shaking in fear and anticipation of the cataclysm to come. 

Lumine's grip tightens on your arm. Her urgency acts as a silent plea for swift action. With every step forward, the weight of what is to come presses down upon you, urging you to hasten your escape despite the burn on your knees. 

Paimon too, is at your side. She flutters anxiously, her voice lost amidst the chaos as the world seems to hold its breath. 

Then, a deafening roar that could shake the very foundations of Teyvat itself echoes through the area as the object strikes the ground with an unfathomable force. The impact reverberates through the air, sending shockwaves in all directions. Dust and debris rise up from the area of impact, obscuring the horizon in a shroud of darkness as the ground trembles beneath your feet.  

Amid the chaos, time stands still. Flames writhe and twist amidst the smoke, painting the once blue and purple sky in hues of orange and red. Blow, the city succumbs to destruction. What once was a thriving and fortunate city, would be covered by dust before the end of the night. 

In this moment, a dreadful realisation settles in. 

Even if you had arrived in Liyue Harbor before this cataclysm, you never would've been able to protect its people— yourself . 

Reality itself seems to shatter under the weight of the unfolding tragedy. The sky unravels before your eyes as black streaks shatter the world. With a desperate cry, Lumine's grip on your arm falters, her strength wavering against the soundwave that hits you.

As the world blurs into darkness, a sense of helplessness grips at your very being, forcing you to face whatever may come next even as the world breaks apart around you. And despite the destruction cradling your very being, a single voice stands out—,

ㅤ

“[Y/N].”

If you liked this chapter and think I deserve a comment, please leave one behind! I appreciate it a lot and it'll make me more motivated to write in the future ♡

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

#isegau #sagau #lumine x reader #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #isegau x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau isekai #lumine #xiao #dainsleif #dainsleif x reader #xiao x reader

[munsonsreputation]

move baby, i'm in love

word count: [2.8k]

warnings: smut (mdni or i will literally dropkick you so hard), oral (blowie), illusions to oral fixation and a tiny bit of choking (literally stevie just pressing down once), and mentions of piv.

summary: steve takes you out to italy in hopes of exploring the city and catching a break from hawkins -- but the both of you should've known things would get hot and heavy the second he put a cigar to his mouth.

The Italian sun just nearly stumbles over the city, the sky shifting from its bright clear baby blue to a soft orange that casts a light overhead.

The gold chain around your boyfriend’s neck glimmers against the shimmering rays nearly blinding you, yet you don’t make any moves to look away from him.

He looks tempting, and it’s almost like torture, the way he’s doing it so casually like he doesn’t know what effect it has on you.

The way you’re struggling to find any semblance of composure as you sit across from him with your legs clenched and your hands shaking.

His eyes look up at you past his sunglasses, a brow raised while he pulls the roll from between his lips.

“S’the matter, baby? Too hot?”

Yeah, way too fucking hot, Harrington

You take a deep breath through your nose, shaking your head as you smile through the torture and relax your legs, trying not to look so tense because you really don’t want to have to come up with a lie to explain it.

“N-no, I’m fine. Just a little warm out.”

You pushed your hair over your shoulder, hoping to find a breeze of air soon.

He frowns, cupping your cheek with his large palm making you grow hotter by the second. You must be scorching under his touch and your theory is proven right as his frown becomes deeper muddled with concern.

“You can wait for me inside if you want? I’m almost done with this little thing.” He says, gesturing to the cigar in his hand.

It takes everything in you to not jump his bones, but you fear you’re already teetering on the line. Literally moments away from telling him to put out the stupid thing and play with you instead.

Only you don’t.

You actually have it in you to compose yourself, taking the initiative to back away from his fingertips and clear your throat. Though the action alone burns, as if you had been stripped away from something…someone you needed.

“I…it’s okay, I wanna wait.” The crack in your voice failing to smooth out.

Your attempts at reassuring him went nowhere and you should’ve known it’d be that way especially because Steve can see right through you.

He knows the forced smile on your face and he definitely picks up on the crack of your voice — don’t even get him started on the fact that he’s noticed your legs clenching since a few minutes ago.

“Baby,” He laughs, slipping his free hand down across his spread legs, knowing what it does to you. “It’s much cooler inside. I’ll be there in a bit.”

His tone is almost sincere, as if he really is oblivious, but deep down you both know how this is going to end. It’s only a matter of when and who is going to make the first move — he knows you can’t resist.

He stands correct, observing as you shake your head and shift your chest out, rolling your shoulders back trying to be cool and in control, but you weren’t as nonchalant as you thought you were being.

“No, I wanna stay,” you say more sternly.

Steve chuckles again. He can see the shivers creeping up over your skin when he makes the move to take off his sunnies, setting them on the glass table before he leans closer to you, leaving only inches.

“Yeah?” He smirks, taking a drag of the cigar. “Why d’you wanna stay out here in the hot sun while I smoke this thing? I thought you hated the smell?”

His voice is low and teasing, but his actions still remain sweet, the whiff of smoke exhaled away from your face doing his best to not let the smell get directly to you.

“I do.” You whisper shamelessly, eyes beginning to go glassy with him so close to you.

The cigar seems to be a prop in his hand now. His forefingers twiddled it as he pursed his lips and slanted his eyes at you.

“Tell me then, baby.”

He’s not gonna make this easy, and if you had any patience, you’d love to play the little game, but right now you had none and just wanted to play with him.

“You…you look so good and I wanna watch you.”

Your voice comes with a whine, an insatiable one that has Steve suppressing a growl in his chest.

You watch his throat bob with a thick swallow before his palm finds its way back up to your cheek, cupping it and feeling the blood underneath rush blazingly.

Only he can get you like and likewise you’re the only one who can get his blood rushing, in other places not just one.

Steve’s better at playing the game especially when he’s got the upper hand like right now. You’re staring up at him lazily, ready to give him everything and more at a moment’s notice.

He’s the bait and you’re waiting to bite.

“Awww baby,” He says half-mockingly.

“This whole time I thought you wanted a try, all along you just wanna watch me, huh? Isn’t. That. Right?”

The last three words are accompanied with a tap of his fingertips against your plush cheek. It makes you go stupid, brain shutting off and the only goal you have is making him feel good.

Your eyes flutter, nearly closing, just having enough strength behind them to keep watching your boyfriend before you inhaled slowly, trying to form words that your mind could barely find.

“Mhmm, I do…I really really do, Stevie.”

He can feel you press your face deeper into his hand, and he has zero plans of retracting his touch away, wanting to make up for the way you ripped yourself from him earlier. Feeling your breath hitting his skin with how deeply you’re taking air in and out, trying not to float away too soon.

His free hand taps the blunt, shaking off the ash absentmindedly as he leans closer, letting his lips brush over yours cruelly for only a second, leaving you whining not getting a proper kiss.

A smile dances on his face, still so close to you yet so far away, knowing that it’s this back and forth that’s going to make it all worth it.

“Aren’t I lucky? Got to take my girl out here. Wanted to spoil her rotten, but all she wants to do is watch me.”

“I can do more than just watch.”

Your voice finds strength within its tenderness, wanting to prove to him how much you wanted…needed him right now.

“Yeah?” He challenged, “what did’ya have in mind sweet thing?”

You gulped, letting your palms rest on his thighs, your limbs already preparing themselves to position yourself on your knees in front of him.

“Let me show you instead.” You whispered throatily as if you’d already been wrecked.

He grinned, patting your cheek once more, followed by a peck on the tip of your nose.

“Go ahead, baby.”

His permission is like a symphony to your ears, giving himself to you in a way that only you get to know. No one gets him like this and no one ever will… just you.

Your knees meet the ground, settling between his legs and fingers working immediately.

“So big,” you murmur, hastily undoing his belt while your lips kiss his clothed bulge.

He grunts, throwing his head back weakly, knowing it doesn’t get any better than this. If he could, you and him would move here permanently and forget about the outside world completely.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He’s done playing mean, when you’re showing him so much affection in a way that should be sinful but to him, it’s heavenly.

Your eyes flutter up at him sweetly while your hands reach into his boxers, pulling his length. He watches the way his cock steals your attention, eyes adverting to the hardness that your hands can barely wrap around.

Your thumbs rubbing the leaking pre-cum over the tip and you’re doing him in by placing a kiss right on the head.

You’re not trying to play mean at all, but he can’t help but feel that you are.

Pure perfection right in front of him with your eyes flicking back up to meet his while your lips still rest on his sensitive skin.

The pearlescent seed painting your lips like gloss and all he wants to do to is pull you up and kiss you stupid before fucking you just as dumb.

But he settles, knowing this is what you want and he’ll get his fix in a minute.

“Fuck me.” He seethes, gritting his teeth and holding back on thrusting forward.

Your tongue peeks out, laving underneath his length as you enclose your lips around him for only a second before you pull away with a nice ‘pop’.

“In a bit, baby, let me have my fun.” You mutter, using your saliva and spreading the wetness over his cock with tight strokes, paying special attention to the slit.

He’s having trouble controlling his breathing, the small pudge of his lower stomach moving up and down spastically beneath his shirt proving it to you.

“Take your time sweet girl… I’ll be patient.”

“Hmm, I love you.”

He’s only a millisecond from responding that he loves you more, but you beat him, eyes veering up as your lips kiss the skin above his knee.

“…and I love you too, Stevie.”

He’s gonna fuck you so good when you’re done just to show you how much he loves you and your pussy.

You smile sickly sweet, before going back to work kissing your way back to his hard on. His cock pulses against your lips while you pepper pecks up the thick shaft and there’s a new ferocity occupying his senses the closer you get to what you really want.

“Show me some love, sweet girl.”

He nods, finally forcing the blunt to his lips as you wrap your lips around him and taking him down gradually.

Your head moves up and down, spit pooling around him, coating him in your wetness, leaving the rest of what you can’t fit, glistening.

Each drag of your tongue and skim of your fingers cupping his heavy sack brings him closer to the edge at an alarming rate.

“Fuck…” He blew the smoke out, shaking his head in awe, “your mouth is so good, baby.”

You hum against him, the vibration sending shockwaves up his spine and his cock. Fingers wire through your scalp, tugging mildly to get your eyes up on him in time to see him taking another swig of the blunt knowing it’ll drive you crazy.

“Should’ve known this would turn you on, baby.” He smirks cockily, taking his time to close his eyes and open them back up as he blows the smoke out.

There’s another whine, eyes rolling towards the back of your head with the image of him engrained in your mind.

You should really be scolding him about the health effects of smoking, but all you want to do is please him until the damn thing is gone.

“You just go hot for every little thing I do isn’t that right?” He continues to tease.

Seconds later, with no response given with you too busy and mouth too full, there’s a tap against your cheek, prompting your eyes to open back up.

Hairs that stick to your sweaty forehead are soon pushed away, his fingers knocking your temples with a grin on his face before threading them through your scalp and pulling you off.

“Words baby, c’mon, I know there’s still something up there.”

You clench around nothing, the effect of his words traveling straight to your core and it should be embarrassing that he gets you like this so easily, but you don’t have it in you to care one bit.

You gasp, catching your breath as you rest your cheek against his thigh.

“Y-yeah, you make me go stupid Stevie.”

He can see your hips wigging in the air, bottom raised up high in a position that makes him want to take you like that right here right this second.

He resists knowing he’ll get you in every position you can handle by the end of the night.

Steve’s grip releases from your scalp, falling down to your neck giving it only a slight squeeze before his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

His cock is an obvious weakness, but so are his fingers.

You love them entwined with yours, wrapped around wrists and neck, inside the depth of you, and mostly when they’re in your mouth.

He answers your silent prayers, slipping it past your lips, letting you suck on it as your eyes flicker shut, getting lost in it like it’s as good as his cock.

Your hands don’t stop their movements, working your wrist up and down not too fast, not too slow, but just the way Steve like it. Your tongue working the same pace over his thumb — he can’t believe you’re real and thank God you are.

“You’re a smart girl to everyone else, but when I get you alone, f-fuck, you just forget everything and let me take care of it all don’t ya baby?”

You take a breath, letting his thumb fall from your mouth. “L-love letting go with you.”

His heart feels like it’s on fire the kind that swamps him in flames of all colors and should swallow him whole, but only it drives him crazier for you — you’re the fuel who keeps him burning and the only one who could do him in like this.

An admission that should get him riled up, and it does, but at the same time he knows that your words are a confession — you feel safe with him. Safe enough to trust him in a way you’ve never trusted anyone before.

With Steve, you can let go in more way than the other…but most notably in a way where you can love. Love him wherever you are in the world — in your shared dainty little hometown and out here in the middle of the Mediterranean sea.

He can’t help it, abandoning the stupid cigarette in the ashtray and cupping both cheeks in his hands as he leans down and pushes his lips to yours.

It’s messy and fast, a mixture of his pre-cum and the remnants of your lipgloss a sticky mess between the both of you, yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ravishing each other like it’s the end of the world and the only thing you both have on your minds are each other.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He says between kisses, no fight for dominance in it, just you and him mending together.

“Love my Stevie.” You murmur, clutching your hands around his cock, as his breath falters against you, his hips rising in tandem with your strokes.

“Love letting go with you too, honey. Love spoiling you to death even if it’s just m-me.”

You hate to do it, but you need to knowing he’s closer to the finish line and there’s one place you want the prize the most right now. So you nudge him away with your chin, pulling back and sitting back on your haunches as he falls back into the chair.

“Want your cum, baby… please give it to me.” You beg, voice going up an octave higher with need.

And your sweet boy never denies you anything, not his attention, not his cock, and most definitely not his cum.

“Take it all, baby.”

The costal view sat in front of Steve isn’t the one he’s admiring when a goddess is right before him on her knees worshipping him like this.

A work of art you are taking him down your throat as he sputters out praises from his mouth and spits loads into yours.

It’s only a matter of time before things get hotter and both feel higher than ever before.

“Move baby,” Steve growls in your ear, a handful of your ass in his hands with you now in his lap right where you belong.

The length of your dress hiked up over your hips and the bust of it pooling down your torso with your tits pressed against his shirt.

His length seated deep within you, squeezing him tightly as your arms wrap around his neck and your face burns buried in the juncture between it.

“Ooh, baby…” you whimper, beginning to move up and down with his help.

The two of you in a world of your very own — so alive, so lush.

Steve’s pretty sure your moans are music to his ears, something you always have in you, singing him a sweet melody on the balcony and soon he’ll have you screaming how much you love him.

He’ll be doing the same — after all it’s you he desires, and he’s more than in love.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: your honor, im guilty... of being a whore!!!!!!!! hope you guys like it <3

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3 @claireiscrying @we-out-here-simping @dreamerjj

#munsonsreputation #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fic #steve harrington boyfriend #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington fluff

[bas-writes]

your blind date is waiting for you...

A suitor is awaiting for @zimzalabimmmmm who as their dream date wanted to visit an interactive. I hope you will spend lovely time together!

gender neutral reader | ~900 words | modern AU

The opening of the new science museum attracted a crowd far bigger than you expected. You thought you were ready, but the sight of the queue wrapped all around the building exceeded the most graphic of your worries. Well, it was pronounced the biggest event your city prepared for this year, the museum alone was under construction for the past few years and the media widely acclaimed it as the most modern one in the country, if not straight up one of the most modern in the whole world.

The atmosphere of excitement was thick and attracted thousands, now patiently waiting in the queue and waiting for the holy throughput to grace them with entrance.

Sabo hasn't lost even an ounce of his enthusiasm, not at the sight of the wild crowds, not through the three hours that took you two to finally enter the exhibition. From the very beginning he seemed to be even more pumped about the whole trip than you-and it was your idea in the first place. You haven't pegged him as someone who's interested in natural science, with his great passion for political science and phd in law studies in works, but at this point of your promisingly blooming relationship nothing about him can truly surprise you, not anymore. Through those few months since you ran into each other in a library, he showed you so many faces that you already forgot what was the first impression you got about him.

It's hard to maneuver in a crowd like this but Sabo, with the impact of his almost 190cm, finds a way to plough through it, to wherever you point. He's holding your hand-well, rather wrapping fingers around your wrist-and playing the foreguard against the mass of people relentlessly pushing on the two of you. His smile and excited gleam in his eyes don't fade even for a second. In that matter, he's like the children frolicking around and exploring the possibilities of interactive exhibition to their fullest, no matter the inconveniences and despite their parents' exhaustion.

With your golden retriever date by your side, you're understanding the patient pain of crowd-fatigued adults.

You still have a lot of your own enthusiasm, though, so you let Sabo pull you around, from one screen to another, under the streams of LED, between the machines (and you both have to play with every single one of them), through the smoke, the music and optic illusions and holograms. He stops for a sip of water, for a sneaky photo of you as you're engrossed by yet another wonder of the museum, to brush invisible dust from your cheek and to fix your hair. Your heart gets lost in its beat whenever he nears close but doesn't quite skip it as he's already pulling you further, for more, no crumb of patience nor sense of rest left in this man.

Fate (signed with your own words) wanted it to be your first romantic date and the deeper dive you take into it, the less it has in common with anything that could count as romance. Thoughts you planned to reveal, emotions you wanted to offer together with your heart right on a silver plate, get swallowed by the ecstatic commotion and pushed tight to the back of your mind. Sabo is as playful and affectionate as always but his intentions, despite all those sweet gestures and stolen seconds, blur as well. Whatever has already been born between the two of you has been corrupted by the museum, no place nor time to salvage the tension that has built during the hours of waiting, filled with playful banter and shameless flirting.

Or so you think until the route leads you towards the last big exhibition, the biggest in the whole museum. It's spacious and dark, no light with exception of holographic models of constellations over your heads. The atmosphere enforces calm and silence, even the excited chirping of children shimmers down to a whisper. For the first time for what seems to be an eternity you can catch a full breath-and you sigh audibly, suddenly feeling the weight of hours of light and noise.

A hand still wrapped around your wrist pulls you for the last time, towards a cozy nook between a pillar and wall, where the sights and experience diverge from the standard at the middle of the room-but there's no one to bump into you two and disturb the much needed rest.

You want to lean against the wall but your back meets Sabo's chest instead. You feel the vibration of his soft chuckle, then his arms wrap around and squeeze you tight, with support and voracity. A bold move for the first proper date-but it suits him and the atmosphere, so you just let yourself soak in it. It's too comfy to think of an alternative-and you're too tired to banter for freedom anyway.

"You fit here so well," from so close, words spoken right into your ear, Sabo's voice is much softer and smoother. His warm and moist breath makes every little hair on the back of your neck stand with anticipation-and your own breath stutters under the rapid change of your heart's rhythm. "Are you okay? You're running so hot."

You can't find an answer that would satisfy you-but even if you had it, Sabo wouldn't let you speak.

In the thick, pleasantly tense silence, under the holographic stars, his hand wanders to your chin and cups your chin, his thumb affectionately brushing your lips before he catches them with a sweet but breathtaking kiss.

#sabo x reader #sabo x y/n #sabo x you #sabo imagine #op x reader #op x you #op x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #bas writes #op #sabo #blind dates #gender neutral reader

[chadhunkler]

FISH INFORMATION TIME YEAYEYAYEYAEYAYEYAYEYAYE

Tagged by @sundered-souls , @oneiroy , and @iron-sparrow ! Thank all of u!!! ♥♥♥♥♥

B A S I C S

Name: Holuikhan Haragin

Nicknames: Holly, Holui, Hol, Fish

Age: around 25-30? But they have no clue, no sun to help keep time.

Nameday: 30th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon (But they don't know that either)

Race: Au Ra-adjacent fish from the deep sea

Gender: Female

Orientation: What is that (Probably pan, and prefers people she gets to know first)

Profession: Traveling spearfisher, trinket trader (unemployed)

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Well contained in a fancy bun, with all the ends just short enough. She didn't like it getting in her face during quick maneuvers undersea. On land, it looks a litle rough, accustomed to the water more. Eyes: Blue, with a variable brightness depending on if she wants them to glow bright or not. Bioluminescence yeyaeyayeyae Skin: Abnormally dark, absorbs light when underwater, also has bioluminescent properties to shimmer and glow, confusing prey. On land, the scales/skin have a hard time with how much light there is, she gets burned easily. To combat this, she has a parasol she takes everywhere! Tattoos/scars: No tattoos, maybe a few bite scars from battling fish.

F A M I L Y

Parents: The two most important people in her life - taught her how to hunt and gather, how to live in the depths she was born in. Siblings: She's probably got siblings, but she hasn't seen them in a while. Grandparents: Unknown. In-laws and Other: None. Pets: A large manta ray, a 'pet' of sorts, more akin to a summon. Helps her travel longer distances underwater by attaching to her back, also providing some protection from the sun.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Expert underwater hunter, using a variety of skills to conceal and confuse - kicking up sand, creating little lights to distract as she zips through the seas. Also able to eat most things with fairly low risk. Living in the deep sea's tough. Hobbies: Exploring and collecting trinkets! She enjoys searching sunken ships for harpoons, gold pieces, bits of armor, anything shiny, along with flowers.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Always happy! Enjoys new things, nothing scares her.

Most Negative Trait: Stupid fishe, too excited about the new world, will routinely get in trouble because of her instinctual curiosity.

L I K E S

Colors: ALL OF THEM!!!! Sure, bioluminescent blues, purples, greens are pretty, but she's more interested in the colors she's never seen before. Smells: Fish and fishblood. She's also taken a liking to a few underwater plants, keeps some close by both to help mask her scent, and just to smell for herself. (I had to look up if fish can smell) Textures: She needs things to be super smooth, or else it'll irritate her skin. ESPECIALLY beds - if the thing she's trying to sleep on isn't super silky, she'll just go sleep in the water, tying her harpoon to herself and sticking it in the sand so she doesn't drift far. Drinks: Originally it was all water water water. Once she surfaced, she quickly realized the power of fruit juice.

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Holly's not come across smoking yet. Drinks: She very recently had alcohol in a fruity cocktail, enjoyed it but felt strange afterwards. She got super dizzy, fell over multiple times. Drugs: She's been stung by a pufferfish once… Not good. Mount Issuance: If you consider the manta ray summon an issued mount, sure, but it can only be underwater. Been Arrested: What's that?

Thank you for reading! aaaah now it's time to tag others uhhh @shroudkeeper @rasenkaikyo @varrok @verysmallcyborg and @miqojak ! If you see this and wanna do it, go for it! I may or may not be doing two more of these for Kasha and Chad, lemme know if u wanna get tagged too!

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv screenshots #ffxiv gpose #ffxiv #ff14 screenshot #ff14 gpose #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay

[atinylittlepain]

Part One | The Hero

gator tillman x f!oc

series masterlist || series playlist

I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth. - Anne Carson, An Oresteia

wordcount | 5.2K

content warnings | 18+ this is a work of fiction exploring dark themes related to domestic abuse, corrupt government, physical/religious/psychological trauma, murder, canon-typical violence | dark smut, violent smut, verbal degradation, brief mention of sex work | gator is gross and toxic and what goes on in this fic is a depiction of a toxic, unhealthy dynamic | THESE ARE BAD PEOPLE DOING WRETCHED THINGS

a/n | been having fun working on this one. I can't emphasize enough that this is outside of canon, this is my construction of gator and what I think you'd find in a deeper exploration of him. This is, in part, a work of domestic and psychological horror which will become clearer as the story continues. special thanks to @pr0ximamidnight who is basically the only reason this idea didn't get scrapped.

..........................................................................

Towns like these aren’t hard to come by. Throw a dart in any direction in the midwest and you’ll hit a town like this one. She didn’t bother with the name, something home-baked and wholesome, without a doubt. No, when she was given this assignment, the only name she bothered with was Tillman. 

“So you’re his favorite dancer, huh?” 

“That depends on who’s asking, hon.”

“Someone who can offer you a little more than he can.”

“That’s a tall order, offering me more than he can.”

“Oh yeah? Can I ask how much he’s paying you?” 

“Hmm, lemme paint a picture for you. I’m naked, and Roy Tillman is rubbing bundles of hundreds on my tits. Does that answer your question?”

“You ever wonder where he gets all that money?” 

“So long as he keeps throwing it my way, I don’t really care. I know you’re new in town, sweetie, but a word of advice? It’s best not to question Roy Tillman. Now, do you want a dance? You’re so pretty I might just give you a deal on it.” Cherry red nails flickering like neon gods, but not touching, just grazing the side of her jaw as she tries for a polite curl to her lips when all she’d like to do is scream a few choice curses into the dim, dank smoke of the club. This isn’t the first time she’s been given that advice since she came to Stark County.

“That’s alright, thank you for your time.” The quick recoil of cherry red nails, and her friendly little companion is already flouncing away with a slumped sigh, sequins and skin shimmering beneath the fish-scale flicker of a depressing disco ball. She takes a sharp gulp of her drink, resigning herself to crossing another potential in off her list. 

The problem with men like Roy Tillman is they have a way of rallying a town into troops around them. He brings money, and brawn, and revived religion into the withered veins of a community, and the community in turn suckles on the gleaming mouth of his gun, fed and full and content to allow him to do whatever he wants. And so he does. And so someone like her has to come in and put a stop to it, though that is particularly difficult when no one seems too concerned with letting their bloated king continue his salacious sate. 

“Hi, ladies, you got some for me tonight, huh?” And for every king there is, of course, a prince. A painfully, stupid, inept and inane prince, drunk on power that isn’t even his, and probably will never be his. As far as she knows, Gator Tillman is something of a dress-up doll for his father to move and manipulate around the county, about as harmless as a fly without wings, fondling that gun he keeps in his thigh holster like a second dick and working a fine cloud of smoke around his head wherever he goes, something juvenile about that bright green vape of his. Prince, court jester, whatever way you slice it, the only attention she has paid to him since she got to town has been without a choice when he blusters into a place, so loud you can’t help but turn head and stare. 

“Hey there, Miss Lanie. Surprised to see a fine woman of the law such as yourself at an establishment like this. You lost?” Gator, she has found, has taken a particular shine to making his personal space her personal space. Ever since that first week she was out here and took a trip out to the Tillman compound, father and son in fine figure on the porch, son tucked into the long shadow of his father, telling her in no uncertain terms that her presence was unwelcomed, unneeded, and Gator had made a point of walking toe to her heel back to her car, ducking his head down to wish her a mighty fine day, ma’am, before she drove off. She thinks that he’s trying to fluster her, make her sway in some meaningful way with his schoolboy teasing. At best, it’s amusing. At worst, it’s another something, somebody, getting in her way. 

“I could say the same to you, deputy Tillman. And you know that’s not my name now, be a little smarter than that, else I might get bored.” He has the common sense to blow that sickly sweet vape cloud out of the side of his mouth where he has sidled up next to her at the bar, his face cast in mottled shadows from the thick throb of lights in the club, grin turned red. 

“Mel, that’s what your partner calls you, isn’t it? I’d say we’re on a first name basis by now. Or would you prefer agent Harris? Dad says the only fitting title for a woman is missus, but I have to say, I think I’m a little more open-minded about such things.” At the very least, a laugh over the rim of her glass, concealed by another bitter sip because she knows a boy like Gator collects his wins where he can, and isn’t soon to let go of them. 

“Uh-huh, how progressive of you.” It would be about now in this familiar routine that she would usually leave, an elbow placed pointedly in some soft part of him as she breezed by. She finds people like Gator to not even be worth repugnant, let alone evil. People like Gator are small, used air, sound and motion somewhere in the periphery of what really matters. But tonight, she’s tired, and frankly, she’s failing, and he’s a harmless pantomime of a tyrant. So she lets him play his part, head propped in hand propped on elbow propped on bar. 

“You have a man back in DC, huh? I bet he’s wondering where you’ve been for so long.” Blink, blink, she gives him no answer, just squints a little and keeps her lips pressed in a thin line, waiting to see how else he can flail when given the chance. And he doesn’t disappoint, a little bit of frenetic flair to it, takes another drag on his vape and turns cheek over his shoulder, bolstering morale with a glance at his pack who have all set their sights on the present display of skin and sequins on stage. When he faces her again, she thinks he might try to reach for her, something grasping in his face the dip and bob of his throat. But he knows better. He had put a hand on her back one day at the station, hadn’t even gotten out a Miss Lainie before she was turning heel and jamming her forearm into his windpipe. Yes, he knows better than to touch, but he does lean in, trying for meanness that just makes him look younger with the way it rounds his eyes. 

“Tell me this then, where is your partner? Been a while since I’ve seen him sticking his nose where it don’t belong. He didn’t abandon ship, did he?” Still fresh, still sore, he wins that one, and she knows that he knows he wins because she can’t hide her grimace at the mention of her partner. Well, the mention of the man who was her partner. The man who was called back to DC last week, a sure sign that the powers that be are coming to the end of their rope with this project. They had been out here, grasping at scraps of a paper trail going nowhere, trying to pin down the ghost of the ghost of Roy Tillman for two months, and nothing. She wouldn’t be surprised if she gets a phone call next week calling her back, tail between her legs and an I told you so waiting for her on her desk. 

She offers him no response, taking a deeper drink from her glass so she can have an excuse to pinch her face bitter. He laughs, clicks his tongue, a slick strand of hair bobbing loose with the shake of his head. 

“Well, that’s just not right, leaving you out here all by yourself. Some folks would take advantage of that, you know.”

“Hmm, and here I am wondering where all that midwestern nice everyone talks about is. I guess the time’s are changing.” She makes her grin match his, all fang, all sharps and brights. And she’s had enough, a headache starting to creep in around the edges and make everything a little fuzzy. The cool reality that she will most likely leave this place as she found it, with a man playing God, and the people letting him. She presses a palm into Gator’s  chest, enough of a shove to make him stumble a bit as she gets up from her stool, a clipped command to get away, don’t you have tits to look at? But he still follows her out through the sparse crowd and into the quick snap of cold air that fall in North Dakota seems made up of. Soon, snow, but for now, everything dying and freezing up in anticipation. 

She makes it to her car without paying much mind to his hemming and hawing, though he catches her door before she can close it. For a brief moment, she considers how hard she’d have to slam it to snap his dip-stained fingers clean off. 

“Now, Miss Lainey, just wait a minute. Sadly, I’m not just looking to flirt, I’ve been sent with some business to discuss with you.” The prince sent by the king, glowing and boldening under his father’s trust, she can see the little puff of pride in the way he wedges himself between her car door and where she’s sitting in the driver’s seat, taking up all the space, all the air, that pungent sweet sting of whatever vape flavor he’s sucking on this evening. He plays it up, enjoys that little smack of false power, close-lipped grin and leaning down with his forearm resting on the hood of her car. She remains still, unblinking, unphased, looking up at an overgrown boy. 

“You see, me and mine haven’t been too pleased with how you’ve been bothering folks around here. Asking all kinds of questions and such. It ain’t very polite, and we don’t care much for, uh, not politeness.” Curling her lips back into a snarl of a smile, tilt of her head, she settles the sole of her shoe on top of the toe of his boot, small warning, small something that makes him swallow thick when she presses down a little. 

“You and yours?” Little more pressure, little pinch, the muscle in her leg tensing and tightening with the force of it.

“That’s right.” Wavering prince, weakening prince, a little whimpering prince and she swears she can feel his toes squirming beneath the ball of her foot, pressing down hard now. What she’d like to do is change the angle so the thin point of her heel is what’s digging in sharp. But this will have to do, her smile spreading to show the whites of her teeth.

“Oh honey, the last time I checked, they weren’t yours at all. You were theirs.” She digs down a little more, small twist of the ball of her foot to get that grimace, that grunt of pain she was hoping for. In the cool wash of neon from the bar, his face has gone blotchy, burning up to the mottling tips of his ears. Not difficult now, he’s already stumbling back when she lets up the pressure of her foot, a simple point of her finger in the middle of his chest enough to get him out of her orbit. Slam of her car door and roll of her shoulders because, not that she’d admit it, but that felt a little good, little lick of pleasure in causing a bit of childish pain. 

She hates that it startles her, a little jump in her ribcage. But really, she should have expected nothing less from him. A fine streak of spit on her window, darkened and clouded by dip and punctuated by a slap of his palm on the hood of her car. She catches his grin, distorted by the dribbling splatter, bright white sliver tinged red in neon. A herculean effort, not to run over his foot when she drives away. 

They, the proverbial they, have her set up in a new development of condos twenty minutes away from the heart of Tillman’s domain. It’s white, and square, and sterile, and three stories up. She leans her forehead against the wall of windows and lets it feel like falling while she listens to a voicemail from her boss. Her boss, back in DC, and wondering what the fuck he did sending her out here, no doubt. He tells her as much. Tells her that she has until the end of November to get some real evidence in her hands, or else he’s pulling the plug. That or else looks like going back to DC with her tail between her legs. It looks like a cubicle, looks like clerical work, drowning in the archives until her boss decides that she’s learned her lesson, to keep her mouth shut, and her head down, to not get creative, to not get bold. 

Until the end of November, two weeks to get something, anything, on Roy Tillman, or else. Or else looks like a man playing god, being allowed to continue his game, allowed to keep a whole town on its knees. And his son, his ridiculous, willful, repugnant dog of a son settled at his father’s feet, fed scraps of power and happy for it. 

Bad people, turned sideways people. She knows what they are. And her badge and her gun and even her cubicle back in DC make her good, one of the good ones, the ones that are supposed to get the bad people, turned sideways people. And she intends to. She needs to, really. Needs something she can hang onto like a trophy. Young blood, fresh in the department, fresh out of school, and trying to make something for herself, something she can point to when the rest of the suits raise their brows at her presence. She needs a win, and she’s going to get it, and it’s going to be Roy Tillman’s head framed in a mugshot. 

…

“Are these the records from 2019?”

“That should be all of them, yes ma’am.” Desperate times and all, she’s resorted to drastic measures, nodding a thank you to the officer who dredged up these boxes of arrest records for her. Roy has been known to arrest his own to teach them lessons when they’re starting to shake ranks, and she’s hoping to find old wounds, potential traitors turned informants. 

She hasn’t slept much in the last week. A week since her boss gave her that ultimatum. A week of scrambling for whatever loose ends she could find, threads fraying to film wherever she turned. She hasn’t found a thing. No trail to follow, no willing witness to speak, no evidence of anything. And the most frustrating part of all, the need for evidence seems foolish given how obvious it is. It is campaign season, after all, and Roy Tillman has been out with his crew in fine flare lately. 

Here is what makes up a king and his kingdom. In the past week, five bodies found between here and Fargo. Accidents, they ruled them. So many accidents making up a king and his kingdom. In the past week, six traffic jams caused by Tillman and his thronging brigade of DIY armored cars, the mouths of guns winking out of the windows, American flag bleeding blue and red in a blaze behind them. So much artifice, so much brute force making up a king and his kingdom. One wife, Roy’s wife, sent to the hospital with a popped eye socket. She had tried to go speak to her, and his wife, gruesome blue and black sneer, had kept her busted lips pressed in a thin line. So much brute force indeed. A king and his kingdom. And she is scrambling to find any crack, any slippage to stick her fingers into and make bleed. And now, she only has two weeks left.

The local station hasn’t exactly been welcoming to her, most of the officers knit tight and quiet in Tillman’s ranks, weary glances and outright snarls when she first came in. Most have become tiredly used to her presence in that empty office space, broom closet more like it. Only a few, however, have been cooperative, let alone friendly. Officer Peters happens to be one of those few. 

“You really don’t have to help, you know. I’m probably going to be here all day looking through these.” He hikes the two boxes of records he’s hefting up a little higher in his arms, shrug and smile, and it’s a relief everytime he does that for her. 

“No, no, I’m happy to help. Not much to do around here with, well, you know.” Well, you know. The police in Stark county are something of an empty promise. All the power lies with Roy’s quasi-militia anyways. 

“Well thank you, Dave, I appreciate it, really.” A little bit of kindness, of decency, she is finding, goes a long way for her in a town where she is clearly not welcomed, though that feeling is short-lived, their progress toward that office space halted when another set of hands grab a hold of the box of records she’s carrying.

“Where you going with all this, Miss Lainey? A lady like yourself shouldn't be doing such heavy lifting. Pussy Peters, you really couldn’t manage hauling one more box there? C’mon now.” She smells him before she gets a good look at him, synthetic strawberry haze that churns her stomach. 

On a good day, she would shove the box forward hard enough to make him stumble out of her way, not sparing him another look. This is not a good day. This is a tired day, a failing day, an at the end of a frayed rope day. She stops long enough for him to take it as an invitation to continue running his mouth, all garish grins as his eyes shift between her and Officer Peters, still holding onto the box of records, enough for it to be a tug on her own arms.

“Say, Dave, saw your wife at church last Sunday. She sure looks pretty on her knees. Oh wait, that was after church.” It’s plainly embarrassing for everyone, an awful, stupid and shameless thing to say. Dave scoffs, a quiet alright, Gator before he shoulders past them while at the same time, something is beginning to snap inside of her, a silent snarl. Gator’s smile falters when all she does is stare at him, lips pressed in a thin line. Tough boy turned a fool under her gaze, he shrinks and smalls, clearing his throat and loosening his grip on the box of records enough that she can wrench them away from him. The only sound is the hard click of her heels as she shoulders past him to join Officer Peters in their makeshift office. 

That something snapped starts to shimmer into anger. Sick with it, with all of it. With this town, and these people that speak like this, act like this, carry on like this. As if watching herself from over her shoulder, she’s excusing herself from the office just as soon as she sets the box down, a strange look on Dave’s face, though she’s already turned heel and made her way out into the hall. 

He’s leaning up against the wall, smoking that vile thing, and he shouldn’t be, and it just makes her angrier, shoulders squared as she comes to stand in front of him. Silent for a moment, a puzzled pull to his brows, the quick dip and rise of his eyes, and though he opens his mouth to speak, the only sound that comes out is a high-pitched yelp when she uses the sharp point of her heel this time to drive her foot down over his until she hears something crunch, a little dig back and forth and it makes him keen.

Perfect posture of pain, he keels over with a groan, easy enough to grab him by the nape of his neck and haul him in his hunch down the hallway to the office. Dave looks up, stricken and shocked from where he had already started to sort through the records and she brings Gator right to his feet. She gets a better grip in the back of Gators’ slicked hair to pull him upright. His eyes are scrunched shut, still grimacing in the shock of pain, little whimpers puffing out on each of his exhales. And she likes it, feels good about it. The first thing she’s felt good about in a while, if she’s being honest, a smile threatening as she leans in to speak into his ear. 

“You’re going to apologize to Officer Peters, do you understand?” Little tug, little sharp pull of his neck when he doesn’t answer, and then Gator’s breathing out a yes, yes, ma’am and she likes that too, drinks that down and lets it simmer somewhere sickening inside her.

“Now.”

“I’m sorry.” Not good enough, said with a whine. She tugs a little harder at his hair, pulling his spine into a strung, snapping line while he winces.

“Mean it.”

“Fucking– I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please!” She likes please, didn’t even know she was looking for please, but it almost feels better than the apology she was originally looking for. She would like more please from him. But for now it’s catch and release, he’s limping out of the office the instant she lets go of his hair, and she’s left simpering under Dave’s bewildered stare, fear of god widened eyes and jaw dropped in wonder, or horror, or both. 

Quick shake of her shoulders, shaking something sick and simmering out, and quick heat between her palms with a clap, away from whatever that was and back into these interminable boxes of records. Ready to get to work? Yes. Yes.

By the time they’re finished it’s already mottling blue outside and her eyes are starting to blur and sting. Nothing, no one that hadn’t turned up dead in the last two years, at least. Stiff joints that stay curled into themselves, she hobbles with Dave down into the basement to put the boxes back, blinking hard in the fluorescent light. Not a clue where to go or what to do next and she’s too tired to care much about it, thanking Dave and shrugging into her coat and pressing her fingers into her eyes to rub out the blur before she steps out into the fading light. 

“Hey.”

“No.”

“Hey.”

“No. Go home, Gator. Get some new marching orders from daddy, why don’t you?” She’s satisfied to see that he’s still limping a little, though that squelches and squirms into frustration when he continues to limp toward her. It’s a little slapdash routine she has no interest in being a part of, she opens her car door an inch only for him to slap his palm against it to slam it shut again, back and forth once, twice, three times before she starts to really consider pulling her gun on him, settling instead for another planned assault on his foot. Maybe she’ll break something this time, if she’s lucky. But before she can make contact he’s jerking back, palms up in a shrinking surrender. 

“You’re not gonna find anything, you know, not in there. He keeps things clean.” It’s perhaps the most earnest she’s ever seen him, words said quick on a single exhale like he’s getting away with something by saying them. It makes her pause, makes something slacken, watching the nervous pinch between his brows deepen.

“Uh-huh, and you’re telling me this why exactly?” Whatever that was, it’s already gone, he’s already settling back into the muzzle  his father stitched for him, shift of his eyes and shrug, working his jaw like he has to chew on his words. 

“Just trying to save you some time, Miss Lainey. Not as pretty when you’re tired.” That slick grin, slimed grin of his, and something is pulling sharp and snarling inside her again, a quick flood of anger that she tries to tamp down with a thin smile of her own. He’s not worth all the paperwork it would cause. 

“Right, you have a good night, Gator.” 

“Now just wait a minute–” And that simmering thing, snarling thing, finally bursts. Two months of shoveling through cow shit and coming up with nothing. Two months of people like this, men like this, who won’t even look her in the eye, who have been waiting for the day she leaves just as soon as she showed up. Some foolish part of her thought she’d arrive and play the hero. She knows better now.

 She’s just tired enough, failing enough, that she lets that anger curdle and break inside her. When he reaches for her car door this time, she doesn’t stop herself from grabbing his wrist, using an unsuspecting amount of strength to twist him around until he’s pressed up against the side of her car and she’s pulling on his arm behind his back enough to make his breath pitch and fail. 

“I’ve had enough of you, and your father, and this fucking town that’s too stupid to see that they’re getting fucked every which way you bastards can think of.” He squirms in her grip and she just bears down more, pressing the line of her body up against the back of his to keep him still, twisting his arm a little further, waiting for the pop and squelch of his loosening shoulder socket should he try anything else. His breath comes out as opaque puffs in the cold air, broken whines, eyes pinched shut from what she can see. And she likes it. This, something she can control, cause and effect, pain made real in her palms. Somewhere in the back of her mind, this is wrong, wretched, but the anger and the sheer force of it feels too good. 

“Do you know what you are, Sheriff Tillman?” A little more pull, a little more pinch, pressing him further up the side of her car and he shakes his head, frantic, no, no, no. Crystalline tears threatening along his dark lashes, shaking loose to smear down his cheeks, pale blue in the oncoming night. 

“You’re a dog. You’re worse than a dog. You’re a dog’s dog. You’re a fucking mutt begging for scraps. You think you’re something, don’t you? A fucking nuisance wherever I go since the day I showed up. You’re nothing, is what you are. Nothing. You’re–” At first, she isn’t sure what he’s doing. Strange enough to give her pause, his hips stuttering and jerking against the car and those broken grunts of pain preening out into something else entirely. And just as suddenly she realizes the terrible reality of what she has done, and what he is now doing, ruinous and wretched and so very wrong. 

Her hands tremble where they slacken, letting go of him and taking a stuttering step away. She feels like she’s going to be sick, like some hot shame is pumping and contracting in her muscles, making her weak and sideways, swaying where she stands. He turns around the instant she lets go, leaning back against her car, a doll slumped, no longer being played with, his eyes wide and shimmering wet, lips parted in a voiceless wonder. 

“Why’d you stop?” His voice pitches and breaks. It’s a boy’s voice, young voice, and it makes her stomach churn awful, acrid. Awful, because he means it, because he wanted that pain, that fear, whatever that was that she just did. She doesn’t say anything because she can’t, because something has turned to ice inside her, numb and unfeeling, barely managing to take a jerked step back when he steps toward her. And the parking lot is empty except for them, and the night has come on like a heavy fog, and the world turns into a blue smear when her heel catches on chipped asphalt and she’s falling, and she’s falling, and there’s stinging grit in her palms and an ache in her body and she’s on the ground looking up into the face of a frightened boy, a fallen, foolish prince, pathetic. 

She lets out a garbled shriek when he reaches for her again, willing muscle and sound into a singular command of don’t, do not that stops him in his tracks, his palms wide and stark white, surrender. Unblinking, she keeps her eyes on him, held frozen in a gaze as she rights herself, a little hunched, a little curled snarl through her body when she stands. 

He looks bewildered, no regret or remorse, just that pall of confusion, of uncertainty. And it clicks for her because of course. Of course, that felt right to him. That pain felt right to him. She knows what he is, what he comes from. She’s seen the ex-wive's files, murals of pain inflicted on their bodies, broken birds in a broken cage. Mercy that they escaped. But the prince was not so lucky. Something maybe even worse for the prince. He likes the cage. So of course, the pain and the words and the tears. He was raised on poison milk. Of course, the pain feels good.

“Go home, Gator.” 

“I–”

“I said go home. I’m done.” For perhaps the first time, he listens to her, shrinks back, face washed in shadows with the tuck of his chin, a boy again. She doesn’t look at him, she can’t. Heat floods behind her eyes, washing everything in a weary haze, streaks of light and dark when she finally drives away. 

The seams hold long enough for her to drive back to her all cold, all white apartment, all sharp and all lines and all sterile, stark. And when she does get home, but not really home, not even house, but when she does, she splits into pieces. She cries, and she shakes, and she curls over herself, head in hands. She is failing. 

Awful, all this filth, this king and his wretched domain, cobbled together with lies and guns and a bible. Built upon broken bodies. And awful, the people like it. Awful, she isn’t the savior. She’s a thorn in the belly of this terrible beast of a town, and nothing more. 

But what is perhaps most awful is that for a moment, for a breath, in that parking lot with that foolish, flimsy prince, she was a part of it too. She liked it too. Filth, too.

#gator tillman #gator tillman fic #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman angst #gator tillman fargo

[asingleietsist]

"A Green Queen" AU

Side Story: "This is a Warning, Your Highness "

Another roar came from the heavens as the shower of droplets poured over a trembling body.

Luigi was back at the silver luminescent gates, shivering and soaked from the wet walk to the castle . He was glad to finally find some shelter, it felt familiar, almost like he'd been there before.

As he pushed a door open and stepped in, he peered down the long carpeted hallway and carefully squished his muddied shoes inside.

When he stepped onto the dim red carpet, he heard a small clack coming from his feet. Looking down, he noticed his simple brown loafers, had turned to red stained heels.

They pinched as he began to step down the hall, and the further he went in the more of his wet clothes vanished.

His pants, blackened, fitted to his waist.

His shirt followed suit, warping into a darker color and laced itself with a scarlet vest adorned with bright spots and teeth.

His hands still shivered but his wrists locked tight with spiked bracelets.

Luigi's body began to tremble as he looked around at the daunting paintings, all the prominent portraits were distorted yet each palette felt familiar.

He finally reached the end of the hall to a faint crowd of laughter and music. It shook him from his mild curiosity and he flinched as the strange doors flung open. He fell over at the gust of wind protruding from the sudden thrust and coughed at the debris and smoke that emitted afterwards.

Luigi took a deep breath and as it cleared then gasped at what he saw. It didn't make sense.

He heard music, rhythmic and booming.

The voices, the conversations, yet nothing was there. Just a dusty hall, empty chairs, tattered curtains and cushions. Luigi wobbled onto his feet trying to catch his breath and stepped in.

A silky gold-woven cape swayed behind him as he passed the double doors.

The music blasted in his ears, yet he wasn't overwhelmed.

With each step further in, he explored the large room, decorated with a large staircase.

Each touch to seats and tables, each step onto the small stages stationed around the room, all held their own in depth conversations and melodies.

He smiles a bit at the laughter and enjoyment the guests of a dreary room seemed to have.

However, it was short lived, as another roar of thunder decimated his royal attire. Everything became silent.

Luigi sighed and remembered his soaked clothes that he entered with. For a moment, he thought he could escape his muddied situation, even just for a second.

He turned his attention towards the stairs as a flash of lightning flooded the room, followed by the crackle of thunder. A figure darted from the top of the stairs and down the second floor hall.

His clothes glitched again and as his hand reached for the railing for support. The heels began to flash in and out.

"Ugh!", He groaned. He took a step up, but tumbled a bit as he slipped. His clothes soaked the polished marble leaving him to grip onto the railing tighter as he slid.

Luigi inched his way up the stairwell and took a deep breath as he collapsed at the top. His right arm felt tickled, but he ignored it while he caught his breath. He couldn't quite understand why his breathing was shallow, but he trudged on to the nearest wall and rested his back against it.

Once he could finally breathe, he hauled himself up again, and glanced in both directions. To his right, an empty room filled with the laughter of a voice that sounded familiar. It was decorated with flowing satin curtains drifting past his face slightly and a soft, warm glow that called to him. To his left, a large, warped mound heaved and snarled lowly while the rain pattered on the cold stone window behind it. Its eye shimmered in the moonlight, a deep red.

He gulped seeing how many sharp edges the creature carried, yet Luigi did his best to ignore his tightened gut. He balanced himself in his drenched, cold clothes and stepped forward. The glow behind him was fading the further he got, the screaming murmurs called for a stop to his choice.

With every step, something muttered in his ear, a name. He shook his head lifting his right hand to his temple to ease the headache.

His arm pulsed.

Luigi gasped and collapsed, catching the attention of the beast. He heaved looking down at his right arm as the veins started to bulge. Each veins' pores began to seep droplets of blood and one by one would burst out onto already crimson coated carpet.

He screamed in unison with the audience from the enclosed room. Their voices were shrill and solid like a dagger slicing through a heart. The light from the room Luigi ignored exploded in fury, it glitched and rattled, causing the cobblestone around the doorway to crack . The whispers and murmurs continued their onslaught of names and gossip, louder in Luigi's ears. They nearly bled as they chanted a name again and again.

Silence.

Luigi's tears flowed greatly as he came to his senses. He froze from sheer exhaustion and as he finally became conscious, a surge of pain resurfaced.

He looked down at his right arm, now severed from the elbow down and blinked in disbelief. Horror filled his face and his hair trickled, every cell left on his body held back the itch to cry out again.

He slowly got up only to tumble onto his stained and crusted wet clothes, the light in his eyes escaping him.

"Luigi.", A voice rumbled.

The tearful man looked up at the creature with a dull gaze. The dark silhouette of the beast remained, still and unwavering. Its gaze now fixated on his glossy yet mournful eyes, pausing almost waiting for his next wave of tears. Luigi's nostrils flared as he tried desperately to breathe, he needed air but it continued to escape him.

"Bowser?"

"Y-Your majesty?"

Luigi blinked open his eyes as he sat up heaving, a whiff of soup filling his nostrils.

He felt a tear flow down his cheek and severe ringing in his head. He yelped seeing a Koopa next to his bed and lurched to the side, trying to find means to escape. He shook as he tried to comprehend what happened.

"Y-Your majesty! Please-"

His vision cleared as he took the time to feel the sweat and heat that was building on his forehead.

The worried Koopa placed the bowl down and stirred the gold-liquid soup.

'It was just a...'

"U-Um... We have.. some soup. I was ordered to feed you on account of-"

"I-Is it poisoned?"

"No, your Grace. I was ordered to get you some soup. You shouldn't move too much or the wound will reopen."

Luigi looked down at his elbow to see his right arm bandaged and secretly his breathing began to quicken. All he could remember was the screaming, the murmurs, and the creature holding his attention hostage.

#bowuigi #luigi #super mario bros #bowser x luigi #bowser #bowuigi angst #i'll just cry or whatever #super mario #a green queen bowuigi fanfic #tw gore #cw: gore #luigi angst #bowser and luigi

[beanlot]

how does a sadistic!sevika act with reader?

she loves your fear.

this might be just a little brutal, even for the masochists. with sevika, we aren’t just talking about minor sadism like the occasional spank or bite, but rather the extremes to fulfil her callous tendencies. so consider this almost a warning?

sevika’s a big smoker; you’ll have to get accustomed with the powdery scent of tobacco, secondhand herbaceous fumes - and in the most humane way i could put this, being her personal ashtray. although a sadistic!sevika wouldn’t be getting thrills out of physical pain to the same extent as humiliation and embarrassment, she’ll like to utilise your body when it suits her. and at first, it’ll feel like a mistake; a little tsk, sorry babe when her cigar taps against your arm, your skin searing when the cinders pepper your wrist.

but it’ll get intentional when she realises your vigilance and inching away from her starts to raise her blood pressure, a way for her to discipline you by holding your thighs down and teasing the embers on your skin.

stay still or it’ll be your face.

that’s it, just a little burn now.

and depending if you get aroused by the concept of sevika scarring your skin, leaving traces of her dominion over your body - she’ll be at ease to provide that for you, dipping the lit smoke into your thigh. you won’t be able to resist, copper palm governing your knees together as she inspects the sizzle against your skin, a hysterical mess that will only leave you slapping her shoulders. but that’s what sevika is gonna love: the weeps and your jagged voice, fingers quivering against her body and trying ever so badly to push her away, glossed cheeks resulted from frenzied tears.

and there will be times where sevika extends the line just a tad by humiliating you in public, not apprehensive about keeping you in her spellbind even if it degrades your self-esteem and general image infront of others. she doesn’t mind exploring every disgusting fantasy, especially ones that you would’ve discussed beforehand that you liked the sound of - so depending on what you’re into, she’ll alter the tactics. maybe it’s stripping you infront of people, letting them run their fingers along your breasts; maybe it’s letting people watch her tell you to open up before spitting in your mouth. but particularly, if you’re into the whole polyamorous shenanigans, that’ll be the biggest one yet.. i think sevika gets off on hearing people dehumanise you and turn your body into an object for many.

but even worse (or better?), imagining sevika tying your wrists so you can watch her have sex with another woman in the brothel is a little too easy for my liking. i mean.. this might just be my voyeurism kink talking but, sevika’s eye contact whilst she’s tongue-deep into another girl seems too likely when she’s at her peak. talking about how your body isn’t as pretty or that she’s found a new favourite - that to her, you’re washed up and not good enough anymore; you’ll be forced to watch her fingers sink into another girl whilst you start to regret not being as grateful earlier.

shimmer play?

sometimes, she just wants to amp up the stakes. sex with sevika kinda feels like life or death sometimes, you’ll be shaking not from the anticipation of orgasm, but from the distress of what next. there’s times where sevika manipulates shimmer for sex, droplets of the heliotrope streamlining down your stomach to your thighs, only for her to drink them up; tongue precise against your skin until her eyes are flaring with orchid.. which in that case, you’re just in for a rough time i guess.

but it could be completely unexpected, throwing you off guard and into vulnerability. there will be times where sevika just.. kinda fancies it, what was a honeyed cuddling session - her chest against your back - dims down to complete uncertainty when you’ll feel the blade from her arm settle against your stomach, fingers enshrouding your throat and constricting your breath slightly.

i could kill you.

you do know that, right?

nobody would come looking for you..

everyone thinks you’re just some cheap prostitute.

and if you’re reading this thinking fuck that, this isn’t for me - that’s fine too. sevika will appreciate the small discussions that produce the bigger ones, she wants guidance and feedback and yeah when you almost sliced my jugular, that was so hot or nope, not for me. sure, it’ll take some adjustment and some repressed urges, but at the end of the day, sadistic!sevika loves you not for the sex, but you.

#sevika x reader #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #arcane #arcane x reader #sevika smut #howdoessevika

[down-the-winding-corridors]

A normal-looking human approaches and signs a greeting.

Hello, you look like you're new around here.

Explorer looks surprised at the use of sign language, but responds in kind by using it. 'Hello. I'm not new. I just don't usually wander this close to the surface.'

#shimmering like smoke | explorer #memories swim | ask

[gasolineghuleh]

A DRABBLE you say!? I’ll take a sweet, sweet Copia/Reader under the stars, a full moon and a date in the graveyard that takes a spicy turn (or not, up to you). Maybe it’s Dracopia. Maybe not.

Maybe so 🖤

don't ask where he got the cooler, k? i didn't think this through, it just appeared and i went "rolling with it!"

--

Under the shimmering moonlight, you find yourself in a quiet graveyard, hand in hand with Papa Emeritus the Fourth, or simply Copia, as he prefers to be called when you're alone together. The night is clear, and the stars above seem to twinkle just for the two of you. The full moon casts an ethereal glow, casting shadows that dance among the gravestones.

As you stroll through the graveyard, Copia's gloved hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer against his side and tucking you gently into his slender frame. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight, and his painted lips curl into a gentle smile. "I thought a midnight walk in the cemetery would be the perfect way to spend our evening," he says, his voice low and velvety. It curls around you like the smoke from his thurible, rich and sensual.

You smile back at him, feeling the undeniable chemistry that always crackles between you. "It's beautiful here," you reply, your voice soft and filled with affection. You don't want to speak too much-- don't want to ruin the mood that's already begun, tender between the two of you and unspoken until now.

Copia leads you to a secluded spot where a large oak tree stands sentinel. Its branches stretch out like gnarled fingers, creating a natural canopy under which you both can sit. He spreads out a blanket on the soft grass at the base of the tree and gestures for you to join him.

As you settle down, Copia reaches into a small cooler, producing a bottle of wine and two glasses, along with a smaller decanter that you know to be blood. He adds the decanter to his own glass first, the thick and viscous blood coating the bottom neatly. Copia pours the deep red wine into both of them, now, and the glasses clink together in a silent toast. "To us," he murmurs, and you both take a sip.

The wine warms your body, but it's Copia's presence that truly sets your heart on fire. You talk and laugh, sharing stories and secrets beneath the watchful eyes of the departed. It's a strangely romantic setting, one that only Copia could have thought of.

Eventually, the conversation takes a more intimate turn, and Copia's eyes darken with desire. The blood wine has clearly gone to his head already, and his eyes glow with a sort of mischief that you've come to expect from the man, in these silent one-on-ones. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "I can't help but think about how much I want you," he whispers, his words sending shivers down your spine.

His gloved hand slides up your thigh, his touch electric against your skin. You gasp softly, your heart pounding in your chest as desire courses through you. You lean in closer, your lips meeting his in a searing kiss. The kiss is passionate and deep, a reflection of the intense attraction you both feel for each other but never speak aloud-- the two of you wouldn't dare, to break this tenuous connection with something so permanent as words. Copia's hands move with purpose, removing any barriers between you and him. The moonlight reveals the almost primal hunger in his eyes as he explores every inch of your body.

You can't resist the pull any longer, and you find yourself lying back on the blanket, your body writhing with pleasure. Copia's lips travel down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves a trail of hot kisses. He moves lower, his mouth finding your most sensitive areas and driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Copia's tongue flicks against the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs and you clench, your legs pressing against his slightly pointed ears with every motion he makes.

The night is filled with the sounds of your shared passion, blending with the whispers of the wind through the trees and the distant hoot of an owl. Copia's devotion is unwavering, his desire for you consuming him completely. As the climax washes over you both, you cling to each other, your bodies trembling with release and pent up desire, finally being let free. Copia's forehead rests against yours, his breathing ragged and labored. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, and you can taste the lingering sweetness of the wine and the sharp tackiness of the blood-- a sharp reminder of how dangerous this man could truly be.

The two of you lay together beneath the moonlit sky, the graveyard around you a testament to the eternal nature of your love. "Goodnight, my love," Copia murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of tenderness and desire.

"Goodnight," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. With the moon as your witness, you drift into a blissful sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that your love is as timeless as the stars above.

#the band ghost fanfiction #reader x copia #ghost bc fanfic #reader x papa emeritus #papa emeritus #lorraine writes #cardinal copia #copia #popia #papa emeritus iv #papa iv #fanfiction #papa 4 #reader x papa

[talesfromtheasterism]

WITNESS (II/VIII)

cw: horror, violence, abuse. Read from the beginning here.

Out of sight, she threw the cloak back, revealing her kit. She had scoured black marketeers throughout the settlement for suitable attire to cross the Void, but it was a makeshift affair. A worn charcoal jacket hung over daintily patterned streetclothes through a broken zipper. A messenger bag with rushed seamwork to keep the strap from snapping under its hefty contents. Odds and ends from every corner of the Asterism; Floodlander mud boots; a Bloodstar military belt buckle, three-star insignia and all; an unlit oil lamp dangled from her hip, its reservoir shimmering with a deep crimson fuel. Gardening gloves stuffed with warm cotton. A covering of ornate white silk over her face. Everything felt foreign and pre-owned, like it wasn’t hers. Except the sword. The sword was hers.

Now.

No time to waste. Moving in hastened silence, the ground seemed to crumble beneath her boots, like thin snow with no footprints. In and out of cover, low to the ground, running along blindspots. Between outcrops, pausing, trying to guess where in the movement schedule the sentries were. Every time she passed back into the open, her heart leapt. Had she forgotten a step in their patrol? Already, she was a quarter mile from the walls, at least. The flats around the Commune grew heaved and jagged. More and more to block sight from the men on the wall. Doubtful their roughened muskets could strike her from this distance at all.

Now, a larger cliff stood before her, eclipsing the Moon. Lightless maws carved into its surface with uneven shapes and edges. She readied the lamp, lighting the reservoir. Keeper’s Blood, painstakingly imported from the Floodlands, and decidedly brighter than marginal Commune fuel. Its burn began with a flash, blinding her for a moment, and she stepped forward in disorientation. The cavern was painted with a warm glow of sunset, but it clung to its pitch shadows wherever it could. Far behind her, a musket shot snapped the crisp silence, hitting nothing. The flash had been noticed, but they would not follow. As commotion spread across the walls, she ventured inwards.

The echoes in the still air stopped at the cave mouth. It was a long, meandering passageway, with smooth weathered walls but no water to shape them, morphing almost organically as they cut through the landscape above. Sometimes, an enclosed cavern lit only by the lantern’s flickerless, unnaturally constant flame, casting strange amber reflections on the polished surfaces. Sometimes, the roof opened into a ravine, just barely touched by moonlight. Sometimes, the floor opened, through to the underside of the plane. To an abyss with no stars, and no echoes but from the walls. Just careful footsteps, deep breathing, and silence inbetween.

Silence was different here. The woman had sat in a hundred of the Commune’s quiet foyers, lounges and smoking rooms. Lined with stucco, carpeted with carpets. They sucked the sound out of you – a dampened, echoless silence broken only by ticking clocks and soft footsteps from behind walls. Whisperers spent most of their time indoors, shutting out any skulking echoes or shafts of moonlight that snuck by the outer walls. Every peer she spoke to gushed about the calm, and the quiet, and the respite from the alien world around them. She had always hated it. It was oppressive, suffocating. Your every move was crushed into a barely noticeable hush. Places like this lightless cave were what she had scrambled to escape to since childhood. Exploring every street and alley of the Commune, cataloguing every tiny adventure. Hiding journals and drawings from father’s scrutiny. Now, it was time to graduate into true, trailblazing ambition. This was a different silence – ready to be broken. Her covered face smiled, and she laid a hand on the sword’s hilt.

Part 2 of 8. Next. Previous.

#asterism #tales from the asterism #creative writing #horror #fantasy world #stars #writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #writing #fantasy

[yisony07]

Lewd

The night was dark and chilly, with a thick mist blanketing the city streets. Ben shivered as he walked to his car, his breath visible in the air. It was late, and he just wanted to get home and crawl into bed. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise and turned around, quickening his pace.

What he saw froze him in his tracks. A ghostly figure shimmered in front of him, its shape constantly shifting. It seemed to be made of mist and violet shadows, with glowing orange eyes that locked onto him. Ben tried to back away, but his feet seemed stuck to the pavement.

The ghost spoke, its voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Ben’s spine. “Don’t be afraid. I just need a body to use for the night.”

Ben gasped, horrified. “You can’t just possess me!”

The ghost chuckled, its ethereal form shimmering. “Oh, but I can. And I will.”

Before Ben could run, the ghost sprang forward and engulfed him, wrapping itself around him like a snake. Ben felt a jolt of electricity, then everything went dark.

When he woke up, he was in a gay bar, surrounded by writhing bodies and pulsating music. Confused, he looked down and gasped as he realized he was no longer in control of his own body. The ghost had taken over, and it was hungrily exploring its new surroundings.

Ben’s mind was screaming in terror and disgust, but he was powerless to resist as the ghost guided his arms to grope the man next to him. The feeling of another man’s body against his own was strange and foreign, but also undeniably arousing. The ghost seemed to relish in the sensation, rubbing itself against the other man and eliciting a loud moan.

Ben was trapped inside his own body, a helpless witness to the ghost’s erotic whims. He watched in horror as the ghost kissed and fondled the man, pushing him back against the bar. It was like he was living in a nightmare, unable to wake up or escape.

The ghost took full advantage of its newfound physicality, using Ben’s body to satisfy its every desire. It flirted with other men, danced seductively, and indulged in hedonistic pleasures. Despite himself, Ben found himself getting caught up in the moment. The ghost was a skilled lover, able to pleasure both himself and his partners with ease.

It was a strange and surreal experience, and as the night wore on, Ben realized that he was starting to enjoy it. The ghost was like a drug, intoxicating him with pleasure and sensation. He found himself losing his inhibitions, willing to try anything once.

As the club began to empty out, the ghost finally relinquished its hold on Ben’s body, slipping away into the night like a wisp of smoke. Ben was left alone, dazed and disoriented. He stumbled home, his mind buzzing with the memories of the ghost’s erotic escapades.

The next day, he woke up in his own bed, shaken but strangely aroused. The ghost had opened up a world of possibilities for him, a world of pleasure and desire that he had never known existed. He tried to push it out of his mind, but the memory lingered, a tantalizing promise of forbidden pleasures.

From that day on, Ben found himself drawn back to the gay bar, seeking out new adventures and experiences. He never saw the ghost again, but the memory of that one night lingered, a ghostly presence in his mind. And he knew that he would never be able to resist its pull, no matter how dangerous or taboo.

#body takeover #male body possession #body possession #gay ghost possession #ghost edits #ghost possession #male possession #gay possession

[copiousloverofcopia]

Prime Mover Ren, I have a desire for more short, one-shots of Terzo as a daddy. 💕

Ask and you shall receive Ghestie (even if it takes me forever to do it cause #primemover) lol

Anyways this little drabble was actually inspired by the Ministry BBQ art by @beepophobia and in honor of Father's Day!

So Happy Father's Day to all the Papas out there and HERE WE GO!

Terzo's Day

Also available HERE on AO3!

SFW below the cut!

The air was thick with sweet smell smoke and delicious shimmering meat. The sounds of laughter and small children playing, surrounded the Abbey grounds. As the afternoon sun shined brightly upon them, Terzo sat on one of the many picnic benches wearing a gray tank top to keep cool as he sucked back on a can of Peroni Nastro Azzurro—quenching his thirst. He was enjoying the day, his family close at hand and a happiness in his soul he could not find the words to describe.

"Fratello the grigliata mista di carne is gonna burn." he jabbed, watching his brother with Mr. Saltarian at the grill. Secondo was sensitive when it came to his cooking skills and Terzo’s playful commentary had definitely struck a nerve. Secondo starred up into his brows. Regaining composure before deciding to respond.  

"Cazzo, you keep your comments to yourself. I can handle the meat." he replied, balancing the cigarillo in his lip. Terzo shot back a wide-spread mischievous grin. Secondo, instantly regretting the way he phrased his words before Terzo blurted out his response. 

"Oh I bet!" Terzo laughed, dodging the ketchup bottle that caming flying across the table at him. Mr. Saltarian shaking his head at the juvenile antics of these supposed, “Heads of the Church”. A little bit of sibling rivalry and some good natured ribbing was par for the course at any Ministry barbeque. Today’s carnivore culinary exploration however was special. A celebration in honor of Father’s day and Terzo was determined to enjoy every minute of it.

The clergy, siblings, and ghouls all had gathered with their families in abundance. The Abbey grounds, almost faire like in its jubilance and brimming activity. It was on days like this when the full community of the Abbey came together in something other than prayers and rituals. Something other than their commits to Lucifer in which to allow themselves a moment of respite.  

Terzo was grateful, acknowledging that he had everything to celebrate. His beautiful Prime Mover Alessandra, was carrying their third child in her womb. Only days away from welcoming another yet Emeritus into his brood. Terzo, fully determined to populate the world with his unholy spawn. 

Two of which, Filomena and Dante, were gleefully running around with the ghoul kits as the grownups were preparing lunch. Terzo and his brothers had all huddled together at the grill. All of them bickering as to the right way to prepare the feast, a pastime that was one of the simplest pleasures.

It wasn’t that long ago that Terzo’s regard for Father’s day was barely a footnote to be mentioned. Every year the same unenthusiastic celebrations as he actively avoided fatherhood. While he and his brother’s were close, Nihil wasn’t exactly the type of father figure to be celebrated and so for all the years leading up to Alé, the day was nothing but monotonous and draining. Terzo, counting down the minutes until he no longer had to pretend to care about Nihil. 

Now this day was for him. He was now a father to be celebrated, a fact sometimes he still had trouble wrapping his head around. Terzo smiled as he watched those around him. Nihil was pouting that Secondo had shoved him off the grill, while Sister Imperator, in her new wide brimmed hat and back dress, consoled him. Secretly giving Secondo a thumbs up as they’d managed to evade Nihil’s poor cooking. 

Terzo caught sight of Copia, his best friend and their new reigning Papa. He was running around like a chicken with its head cut off as he dashed back and forth, grabbing all the things forgotten inside. Copia’s people-pleasing at an all time high during things like this. Terzo couldn't help but smile at him as he passed, buns in head and an anxious look on his face. 

Then Terzo set his sights on Primo. His eldest brother seemed at first to be content. Enjoying the outdoors even more so than normal—if that was physically possible. But underneath Terzo sensed something—a quiet sadness behind that old worn smile. 

Terzo placed his hand over Primo’s, catching his brother’s attention as he scooted up closer to the table, leaning over to speak. “You alright old man?” Terzo asked him. Primo at first said nothing, letting out a sigh as he continued to watch the activity around him. Taking a moment before his eyes met with Terzo’s across the table. 

“I will be…Fratellino…” Primo began, Terzo now concerned. The hint of melancholy in his voice and the painted smile seemed to be holding back something that Terzo had never recalled seeing with Primo before—pain.

“Si? What is wrong?” he asked him. Primo got quiet, clearing his throat and nodding as the siblings and ghouls passed by their table. Terzo knew that he was stepping into unfamiliar territory but he had to know. 

“Just promise me that you will never take what you have for granted.” Primo said quietly, his tone and demeanor betraying him. Allowing Terzo to see that there was more unsaid but that Primo couldn’t muster to speak. 

“Primo?” Terzo proceeded with caution. 

“Promise me that you will always honor Alessandra and love and cherish every child she bears you. That you won’t take for granted the blessings Satanas has given you—or you may end up an old bitter man like me.” Primo said with a smile. Terzo smiled back at him, it was evident then that while Primo had lived a long life, he had missed out on things—things for which he now had regrets. Terzo squeezed his hand tightly, struggling himself to maintain his composure as he spoke again.

“I promise fratello—I promise.” Just then little Mena came dashing up to the table. Her purple sundress, completely soaked and the curls of her dark hair dripping wet. 

“Dad!” she cried, “...Dante won’t stop squirting me with the water guns! I have asked him to stop but he won’t!” Terzo pivoted around on his bench, looking over to see his very guilty looking son staring back at him. Terzo allowed Menta to take his place as he stood. 

“Piccolo uomo, vieni qui dal tuo Papa.” he commanded Dante. His little boy was the spitting image of him, a mess of hair and a charming smile. He approached his father like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. His hands suspiciously hidden behind his back. 

“Yes Daddy?” Dante asked. His voice, sweet and his face adorned with the softest, round cheeks that Lucifer himself would be unable to resist pinching. Terzo dropped to his knees before him, bringing himself eye level with his son.

“Dante…sii serio piccolo. Have you been spraying your sister with the water again?” he asked him. Dante shook his head no, adamant that he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was then Terzo could see Alessandra coming up from behind them. Holding a pair of soft towels and a look of exhaustion spread across her beautiful face. 

Just as she reached them, Secondo called out that the food was done and the whole of the Abbey came running up from all around them. “Sorry I have been trying to keep up with them but it’s getting a bit hard.” she smiled standing before Terzo. He smiled back up at her, placing his hand on her belly and feeling their child kicking away inside her. 

“I can only imagine amore…but It seems we have a problem.” he said, sending her a wink.

“Oh, is that so?” Alé laughed. Mena stood up beside her father, still dripping as Terzo explained. 

“Si, apparently there is someone who looks exactly like Dante spraying Mena with a water gun.”

“Ah I see, what a weird coincidence. You see I seem to recall letting Dante and Phil’s nits get the water guns out from the green house.” Alé laughed again.

“Indeed.” Terzo replied, listening to Primo holding back his laughter from behind him. “Now Dante…are you sure that it wasn’t you?” 

“Yes.” Dante proclaimed. Alé raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to be honest with his dad as she knew the truth. And even more importantly she could see something Terzo could not. 

“You’re being too hard on the boy.” Primo commented, Terzo turning to face his brother before Dante spoke. 

“Daddy?” 

“Yes Dant—-” Terzo shouted as he was hit full force in the face with a cold stream of water. The likes of which was powered by the pair of water guns that Dante had hidden behind his back. Instantly Primo and Alessandra burst out in laughter. Watching as Terzo panicked a moment before opening his eyes and flipping back his dampened hair from his face. As his vision came into focus, he watched as his mischievous little boy ran off laughing with Mena trailing not far behind him.

Terzo turned back to face Primo, “Still have regrets?” he chuckled, the face paint running down his face. Primo nodded and smiled, Terzo was a lucky man and even though it wasn’t always easy he loved being a father to his children. He loved them more than life itself and that while it wasn’t always perfect it was his. And today was his day.

Notes: grigliata mista di carne -popular Italian barbecue dish of mixed grilled meats Piccolo uomo, vieni qui dal tuo papà- Little man, come here to your Papa. sii serio piccolo- be serious little one

#You asked I answered #Father's day fic #father's day #father's day 2023 #Papas' day #Papas as Dads #Terzo x Ale #Terzo x alessandra #Terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #daddy Terzo #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

[persepor]

Viktor character Analysis (that I wrote in 10th grade when the show came out)

Arcane is a show created by Riot to explore some of the backstory for some of its champions, it has become a hit show that both League players and non-league players can enjoy. It doesn’t matter if you know the lore behind the characters or not, you'll still love the show. One of its breakout characters that has become widely popular is Viktor. Viktor in League of Legends is known as the ‘Machine Herald’ being mostly made out of metal and having no emotions, his lore is about him trying to turn everyone else around him into machines. In Viktor’s lore he is trying to create what he calls ‘The Glorious Evolution’. I’ll be going over how he acts but I’ll be going over some important details about him in the show first. In Arcane we learn a bit more about Viktor. Viktor is a Zaunite (a person from the undercity of Piltover called Zaun) and is handicapped, he has trouble with his back and right leg meaning he’s not able to run around or walk properly without a cane. Viktor has lung problems that make his health decline since he lived in the smoke-filled Zaun when he was younger. We get a flashback of when he was a kid living in Zaun. We see him sitting down playing with a toy boat while he watches the other children swim and play in the water, he then sits the boat down in a small stream as he tries to keep up with it, he ends up falling due to his condition. Keep this scene in mind, we'll be coming back to it later. He ends up following his toy boat and this is how he meets Singed, Singed acted as a teacher to Viktor until he saw how the experiments with shimmer affected living beings and he didn’t speak to Singed again. We learn he was offered an opportunity to come live in Piltover and stay at the academy as Heimerdinger’s assistant.

We then fast forward to when we see him in Arcane, when he is sent by Heimerdinger and the counsel to retrieve Jayce’s research, anything related to his research, and Jayce himself. He observes the trial and goes to stop Jayce from jumping out of his destroyed apartment, they then go to break into Heimerdinger’s lab. That is where Jayce’s belongings reside but they get caught by Counselor Mel Medarda, Viktor comes up with the excuse that the lab wasn’t his bedroom. They successfully get into the lab and stabilize the hextech crystal which proves to the entire council that hextech can help improve the city. They then start to stabilize the other crystals and work on the hextech gate per the council's request. Jayce and Viktor present two hextech inventions to Heimerdinger, the Atlas Gauntlets and the Hex Claw. These inventions are supposed to help the common man in work but Heimerdinger says that it will take a decade to perfect, something Viktor doesn’t have is a decade to live. Jayce is to present a presentation to the council and everyone else in Piltover, he offers for Viktor to join him but he rejects the offer. Viktor has a coughing fit, causing him to cough up blood and pass out so he has to be taken to the infirmary/hospital within the academy. Jayce visits him in the hospital and tells him he doesn’t have that much time to live anymore, when he is able to get out of the hospital he shows Jayce how hextech affects living beings and that it can help Viktor. They tell Heimerdinger and he shuts down the idea and Mel wants him and Jayce to build hextech weapons which they say no they won’t. He visits Singed to get shimmer so he can make a connection to the hextech core. He successfully binds himself to the hextech core but at the cost of his assistant disintegrating.Viktor tries to jump out of a window but Jayce stops him before he can, like how he stopped Jayce earlier on. He then tells Jayce to destroy the hextech core and he simply replies to Viktor with an ok, Viktor then goes to a dock and starts to try running. He drops his cane and starts running and catching up to a boat, this is a parallel to when he was little and couldn’t keep up with his toy boat. He shouts with either joy or pain since he has never been able to run his entire life. He is present during the council meeting when Jinx fires her rocket straight towards the room where the council is about to give Zaun its independence, we do not yet know if anyone in the room will live or die since it left us with a cliffhanger and we will have to wait until season two.

Now we get to the character analysis. Looking at the way Viktor holds himself we can tell he is disabled, since he leans on his cane for support and to help him walk. We can also tell he is a smart individual by the way he speaks and how he words his sentences. He is smart, quick, innovative, and observant, these aspects help him sneak Jayce into Heimerdinger’s lab and help create the hextech gems. As season one progressed we saw him physically deteriorate more and saw him become more desperate to get rid of his disease. We see this after he figures out the hextech core can help heal organic matter, when he stays at the lab for days and nights on end. This is also evident when he bound himself to the hextech core which disintegrated his assistant in the process, he is also so desperate he visits Singed and drinks a vile of shimmer. I believe that Viktor is one of the most popular Arcane characters because you can relate to him in one way or another, whether you relate to him by having a handicap or are unable to walk. You might relate to him by sharing some of his traits like how observant he is or how desperate he gets later in season one. He is my favorite character because not only do I like his design, character, traits, and motives I relate to how observant and creative he is. In short Viktor as a character is very relatable and you root for him when he is trying to help Jayce create hextech and when he is trying to find a cure to his disease. We do not know what season 2 holds for Viktor but I hope we get more relaxed and friendly interactions between him and Jayce and him starting or figuring out the Glorious Evolution.

#viktor #arcane #viktor arcane #let's talk about.. #my writing 0 0 #essay writing #character analysis #perse's writing