#when in doubt poke it with a large stick

[coeurify]

ok but what do you think about making a sex tape with ellie 🧍‍♀️

an: this has been reworked over and over since this request came in in march… so enjoy! its very lovey dovey and sm plot sorry :3

warnings: 18+. filming. jackson!ellie. fingering and oral!r receiving. mostly lovey but some teasing and rough language :3 ellie is obsessed and lovesick and so is reader soooo they make a sex tape. unedited gimme time.

When Ellie first brought up the idea, you had recoiled into her old beat up couch, scoffing as she waved the old camcorder around, a shiteating grin on her face.

“I doubt that thing even works El,” you shrugged your shoulders under the blanket you had stolen off her bed. It wasn't unusual for you to hole up in her small homey garage while she was on patrol.. but what *was* odd was her little.. Souvenir from this particular trip.

“C’mon babe,” Ellie pouted, “Let me try on you..” she wiggled the little camcorder, slipping her hand into the attached grip, flipping open the small screen. Despite your complaints that there was no way it worked, Ellie just could never be wrong. Of course she knew you would fight back, and so she had made sure she fished some batteries too. Of course they came from Maria, the cost three days of stable duty.. But it was worth it for the immune woman, who ducked her nose down and watched the screen flicker to a slow start.

The quality was no better than that of what you could expect from a decades old camera, the film grainy and muffled, each corner covered by symbols Ellie didn’t really understand. But it was no roadblock in the trek of her wants. She smiled when your hands immediately came to slap over your face, voice serious behind your palms as you spoke, “put that down.”

Eventually however, you got a little used to Ellie’s newest fixation. The little hums she made were always a dead give away that she was filming you. During a video game tournament against Dina and Jesse, squished so closely to the two on the floor of the garage that you literally bruised the taller man during a particularly aggressive round of a fighting game. When you were trying your best to compete against your girlfriend’s art skills, tongue poking out the corner of your lips as you worked on a very detailed stick figure that dawned pointed down eyebrows, a large frown and red pencil hair. Even just when you were organizing Ellie’s closet for her, sorting through the tens of sweatshirts with a judging pout on your lips at the mess.

Each time you heard the distinctive sound of El’s attempt at holding back laughs, a small little choked up ‘hmm’ sound. You usually turned your head, quick to flip off your girlfriend-turned-filmmaker. But by the fifth time of catching her smiling behind the little object, you just let her. Whenever you could see her a little less tense, you took it.

Even if that meant starring in all of her little five second shitty clips. Her excuse always, “Just something to look at when I miss you.”

In some ways it made you feel weak legged, slightly lovesick by the thought of Ellie loving you so dearly she just had to steal little memories of you. Every small grin that broke onto freckled cheeks wherever she filmed coaxed you into the haze built up by her new hobby. You became so covered in adoration soon that you resorted to tiny only half mad eye roll when the click of the camera sounded.

Small clips turned into Ellie’s free hand wrapping around your bare waist as you looked in the mirror of her bathroom, the camcorder pressed near your cheek, the auburnette on the other side. You wiped the condensation from the glass, the room still slightly foggy from your shower. “You are not filming me out of the shower,” you huffed. Ellie didn’t answer, the familiar sounding hum stopped only when she pressed a kiss to the base of your neck, lips pulling up into a smile against the skin. “Won’t point too low..” she promised. “You just look so pretty..”

That time, the camera had been closed and discarded on a random bedside table as the two of you stumbled across her floor, giggling as Ellie cursed, stubbing her toe on the corner of the bed she tried to press you down into.

It continued like that, the limits of what you allowed Ellie to film seemed to blur further with every day.. Every curl of her fingers around the object that had become so central to this small haven of her home. Your own neck hot for reasons very different from embarrassment each time the filming light blinked a little too long. The line that you and Ellie had drawn in the sand of your mind was looking a lot less precise with every new memory saved into the device.

Even further along into the passing weeks, you had settled comfortably into yet another night spent at Ellie’s. Your own bedroom had remained untouched for nearly a week this time, bed spread likely just as cold as the air outside. But the garage was warm. The air inside thick as you pressed two fingers against your lips to keep a laugh from spilling out. Glasses of half empty wine, stolen from Tommy and Maria’s cupboard, balanced on the table that sat directly in front of the couch you were cuddled into.

The feeling of wine drunkenness always made you giggly, but your girlfriend parading around her small living space with her camcorder, well, that made you even more prone to bursts of laughs. She had gone from filming and rambling on about what wine you were drinking to zooming into your face, chuckling with breath that smelt like red wine. “See how pretty?” Ellie gaped to no one, stepping closer to you on the couch. The whole garage was painted a light orange from the setting sun outside, but it didn’t stop Ellie.

“El, you’re being a dork,” you chide, shaking your head as more compliments spilt from her. She shoos off the bitten remark with a sound that boarders on a coo, leaning over you as the lens of the camcorder sat close enough to pick up the smaller details of your face the grainy film usually could not.

“I’m just showin’ how perfect you are..” Ellie explains, a softer tone edging into her lungs as she presses her thumb to your cheek, drawing a new heat under the digit. “Perfect cheeks…” her finger traces over your jawline next, and then your chin. Each new landmark of your face that Ellie doted on swept closer and closer to your soft lips. You were no idiot, you saw how the green of her eyes fell to the fat, watched as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and then out again. You made no move to stop what came next.

That next move was your girlfriend’s finger following like a moth to a flame to the one spot that teetered on that blurry line again, thumb pressing softly around the curve of your lips.

“Perfect lips,” Ellie continued, eyes flicking back and forth from the camera screen to you. Soon the pad of her finger is right against your bottom lip, and the room seems to slow.

The both of you hold bated breaths as you mull over your options. But this mulling is no longer than a few seconds, feeling overwriting the more logical side of your brain with a gushy type of tightness in your chest.

Your lips part, eyes meeting the lense as you suck the tip of Ellie’s thumb into your mouth. Lips wrap around the soft skin, salty and cold, and Ellie has little to say other than a slow and breathy, “Fuck..”

Your tongue peaks out just for a moment, lavishing over the wet skin, but Ellie is quick to pull away, leaving your shining lips parted in confusion. The camera falls to her side as her free fingers wrap around your wrist. Just like last time, the little red light twists away from your face. Ellie’s toes step backwards from that oh so mysterious line you two made.

“You know what you do to me, hm?” Ellie questioned as she hauled you up by your arm, a sharp giggle following as she stomped to the bed. The camera is discarded on the table near her pillows as you are thrown back on it.

“No,” you tease, your next giggle cut off by a thump noise that was Ellie pushing you back against grey sheets, you make a sound that almost sounds like “oof” as you try to readjust. Ellie clambers on top of your squirming frame as another sputtered laugh escapes at the messy, and not very seductive, way you two found contact against the creaking mattress.

“Tell me,” you prompt, meeting Ellie’s narrowed green eyes. “Why should I? You’re laughin’ at me.”

Your eyes roll as Ellie’s lips fall into a pout that you want to kiss clean off. “Stop being a baby,” you mutter before letting your impulse win, your hands cupping the freckles cheeks of your girlfriend and pulling her down for a soft kiss. Her pouted lips quickly shape to your own, and you sigh in approval as the hand not holding herself up traces down to your waist.

“I’m not a baby,” your girlfriend complains when your lips part from each other, and you nearly pinch her cheeks from just how lovely you find the whiny drawl in her voice, instead you just shrug, biting back another half bubbled up laugh, “mhm, prove it.”

Ellie does just that. One tug on your hips has you flatter against the bed, one poke at your side has a squeal leaving your mouth. You see how Ellie’s lips quirk up, but before you can admire the sight, she kisses you again.

“So,” Ellie punctuates the word with a kiss, the sort that makes a loud and annoying smacking noise, before trailing her lips to your cheek. “Fuckin” Ellie’s lips find home on your jawline next, and act that has a simmering heat grow between your legs. “Perfect.” Ellie finishes the repeat of what her fingers had done earlier by nudging your head back, lips pressing softer kisses to the flesh of your neck.

Your eyes flicked to the side table, pupils finding the little camcorder as the auburn haired girl bit at your neck, your attention pulled away as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. “El,” you breathe out, a hand finding her messy hair, nails scraping at her scalp as she bit harsher at the column of your throat. You aren’t sure why her name had been your first thought to say after seeing the camcorder, swallowing as your fingers itched to reach toward the side table.

“Hm? Tell me,” Ellie taunts, words muffled as her next target becomes your collarbone. Your own words biting at you again as your eyebrows furrowed together, watching as your girlfriend’s fingertips find the edge of your shirt, pushing it up as your hand falls from her hair to help take it off.

You pull her back for another kiss before you can even think to answer her question, one you weren’t even sure you could explain. Ellie’s needy fingers come into contact with the fat of your tits, tweaking at the perked nipples, nails pressing in just a little too hard, earning a mewl directly against the spit slick kiss. As Ellie kissed you, you tried your best to focus on the feeling, and not how you were acutely aware of the camera beside you.

Her tongue swiped at your bottom lip, warm against your parting lips as she searched to deepen the kiss, messy sounds of half breaths and kissing all sounded through the small area, your hips rolling up as her knee slotted itself between your trembling thighs.

You can’t help but wonder what this may look like on camera, and as Ellie pulls back, you notice the green of her eyes had dimmed, pupils blown as the pretty eyelashes fanned lightly. The freckles splattered over the apples of her cheeks were particularly prominent tonight, and you suspected it had something to do with the blood that rushed there, rosy and all around causing that same lovesick feeling to creep up your weakened bones.

You wonder if she would look as pretty on that grainy screen too.

Before your mind can even form another thought, Ellie is pulling away from your lips, a small whine the response she received. You can’t complain for long as she moves down, wet lips trailing sloppy kisses to your soft stomach, planting the ember of a growing fire in your groin, causing your hand to flex. Your eyes are pulled by an invisible string to the side of you again, the black material of the camcorder your gaze’s target. Ellie grumbles in response, and a small pinch on your hip has you yelping.

“What’re you looking at? Look at me.”

“Ellie,” you try again, lip quivering nervously as she ushers you to lift your hips, tugging off the bottoms you wore. “Fuckkkk,” she drawls, lost in her own little world as a large hand presses your thighs open. “You see that?” she marvels, a finger pressing against the wet spot on your panties. When she presses, you can feel the fabric stick to you, nearing translucent as she teases, your lips hugging the now soaked panties. It has your hips stirring in their spot, the flame in your stomach burning your liquid feeling stomach. “Ellie,” you sigh again.

Finally her gaze looks up, “Yea?” she asks, her voice softening. You can see the flash of confusion, her hand falling from your thigh as she searched for any apprehension. “You ok?”

“I can’t—“ your voice comes out whinier than you would like to admit, harsh against your ears with a feeling of embarrassment. “Can’t say it,” you finish, eyes moving to the camera sitting on the small wooden table beside you for the umpteenth time.

Ellie follows your eyes, and when you look back to her, there’s a flash of surprise in the shade of green you loved so much. It was replaced quickly, her eyelids drooping as her chin tilted up. “Hm. Don’t know what you mean,” she shrugs, fingers going back to teasing your panty line.

Her tone is laced with sarcasm, the teasing tilt to it is a voice you had heard many times before, many times in this exact position. Ellie liked to make you say things, liked to watch you squirm. You were convinced at this point she got off on your embarrassment, and she probably wouldn’t even deny that.

“Gonna have to spell it out for me, babe,” Ellie added, dipping down to place soft kisses at your hip-bone, pink muscle licking over a mark there.

A low and annoyed sound escapes your throat, and your girlfriend chuckles against your flesh, one finger curling around the fabric of your panties, tugging it down a little ungracefully, your shaking thighs to thank for that.

“Barely even touched you yet and you’re shakin,” Ellie teases again, whispering softly, “Such a pretty pussy..” as the sight of your weepy folds meet her eyes. “This all for me, baby? Or somethin’ else on your mind?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, hoping to rid your mind of the film reel like thoughts of the camera pressed in Ellie’s hand as she did this. They played over and over behind the black of your eyes, and another frustrated sound fills the garage.

“Not gonna answer?” Ellie was quieter now, repositioning herself, parting your thighs even more. A finger ghosted over your dripping cunt, a hum following the action. “Can’t make you feel better if you don’t use your words, y’know?”

The warm air hit your folds as Ellie exposed you more, thighs burning from the stretch, from the tight grip of one of her hands, fingers digging into and squeezing the fatty flesh.

The blanket beneath your bare ass is no comfort as you move around, and Ellie’s nose bumps against the softness of your thigh. So close, so fucking close to giving exactly what you were searching for, so close to your aching center that your resolve cracks lightly, head tilted back and against the pillow.

“The camera,” you croak, your mouth dry as your lips part, refusing to look at the other girl.

“What about the camera? Look at me and tell me what you want.”

The crease between your eyebrows likely was gaining small droplets of sweat just from how hard you were attempting to avoid this entire fucking conversation, but Ellie kept pressing you further, and who were you to deny her?

“Wanna film this,” you eventually admit, head dipping down to meet her darkened eyes.

“Yea baby? Wanna see what a mess I can make you?” Ellie’s words start to blur together, the idea surely muddling any coherent thoughts together in her mind, licking her lips as she awaits your response.

“Fuck— mmph, yes El. Please.*”

Ellie’s lips curl into a smile that’s more wicked than loving, “Red button starts it, you can hold it.” She instructed, and you scramble to reach your arm out, grasping at the little hand strap connected to the camcorder.

“There you go babe,” she nods, “give it a go, let me see what you’ve got.”

Your fingers are shaking so badly it takes a moment for your thumb to hit the button, to see the soft little red light noting the start of the film.

The grainy screen doesn’t pick up on all the freckles adorning Ellie’s face. The ones that made you feel all gooey, that you wanted to kiss until her face was a pretty shade of red. But it did capture her parted lips, the expanse of your thighs, and your shaky grip tilted the camera down as Ellie’s head dipped between your thighs.

Her mouth latched to your achy cunt, tongue licking up the drops of arousal that covered your slit, pearling on the petal like lips that she spreads with her fingers.

Your arms almost immediately gave out.

Clearly, you were not as skilled in the art of film making as Ellie had been, the camera dropping almost completely to your tummy as Ellie sucked at your cunt. Her eyes flicked up, and she unlatched from the saccharine slick that pooled on her tongue.

“You keep that camera steady,” she muttered, thumb rubbing tiny, tight circles on your throbbing clit. “Or I stop, yea?”

You nod quickly, hips grinding into the slow and steady motion of her thumb, wet with your sticky . You would have agreed to anything she demanded of you right now anyway. Too needy, too desperate to feel her lips on you again.

“ ‘M counting on you to make a pretty movie for me.”

The sentence tapers off as she disappears to the space between your thighs again, and you nearly and truly sob as her nose bumps your clit, her tongue poking experimentally against your hole, feeling as it clenches against nothing.

You know your whimpers and quick little puffs of air are being picked up by the camera, but you’re too focused on keeping the lense directly focused on the auburn tendrils of hair, on where her face was covered by your thighs caging her cheeks in, keeping her in the place she most needed to be, drinking down every single single drop you gave her.

“Ellie,” you whine, toes curling when she presses away from your clit, two long fingers coming to part your folds, admiring the sticky sight.

“Shhh,” Ellie coos, eyes glancing up at the camera again, the burning sight of her fern colored gaze through the tiny screen has your stomach clenching even harsher, hands trembling lightly.

The air on your exposed center lasts no longer than a few seconds, Ellie’s head dipping down as the warm, wet feeling of a glob of her spit trails down your clit, finding your pulsing hole. Her tongue swipes it quickly after, suckling gently at the shiny bubbles. The sound that follows, the loud wet squelch of your wetness mixing with her spit is enough to make you want to cover the speaker of the camcorder, fingers gripping tightly at the little contraption. She focuses on licking at your sopping cunt, her head moving slightly, moaning against your folds.

“Oh—nnh—El!” you cry, your chin trembling in tandem with the hand you try desperately to keep still. Your hips rut up, and Ellie’s face moves up with you, an arm detaching from its place on your squishy thigh to instead wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer.

You can feel yourself closer, closer to that delicious peak, Ellie’s nose bumping your clit, tongue working mind numbing ministrations on you.

Then she pulls back.

“Fuckin made for me,” Ellie groans, taking a deep breath as she unlatched from your pussy, her fingers sweeping through your puffy lips. “Was fuckin’ made to let me taste you.” Her eyes flick to the camera, her tone louder than usual— a little less breathy. She wanted the microphone to hear.

You cry pathetically at the loss of her tongue, lip quivering.

“Tell me,” she demands, voice overpowering the slick noises of her now shiny fingers rubbing between your folds, the tips pausing at your pulsing hole, dipping only a little in, teasing. “Tell me this pretty pussy was made for me.”

And then Ellie is reaching forward, letting go of her grip on your hips to grab harshly at the camera, maneuvering it to show your trembling body, her fingers pressing open your lips, giving the camera a pretty close up of your soaked cunt. She croons at the sight, her fingers pressing together to land a short and sharp slap against the swollen lips. “S’pretty.”

“Ellie,” you choke, chest heaving up and down as the embarrassment creeps up, making that coil in your tummy even tighter.

“Tell me,” she says again, smoothly.

Desperate to have her fingers opening you up, to have her filling you and breaking that tightly wrapped tension in your groin, you break.

“I’m yours el. ‘m all yours, was made for you,” your voice is restrained, quiet as you chew at your lips, stirring in your spot as she continues the teasing.

“What else? Tell me more, baby,” she insists, one long finger sinking into you, hissing at the feeling of your cunt molding to her, perfect for her as you clench.

“A—ah!” your voice is a sweet little cry. You grind down into the feeling, searching for more. “It’s yours El,” you babble— louder now, head thrown back. Ellie captured the moment with a quick tilt up of the camera. “M-my pussy s’all yours.”

“Fuck,” Ellie breathes, her own, usually steady camera hand, wavering as you speak. She grants you with another finger as she thrusts harshly into you, a shriek pulled from your open mouth.

“So—s-so fucking perfect,” she grunts, curling her fingers gently, hitting that squishy spot in your walls that has you keening, eyes rolling back. “Love this pussy so much, shit—shit, love you so much.”

“Love you too El,” you blubber, your chin tilting down to stare directly at the camera for a second. That awkwardness, the fear from the early days of when she’d film you completely gone as you moan pathetically, eyes shiny with complete and utter adoration.

She only pistons her fingers into you harder, faster, relishing in how you moan, how your toes curl and your chin wobbles. You’re the prettiest fucking thing she’s ever seen.

The camera points down to where she’s thrusting into you, watching through the screen as you meet her thrusts, your hips moving against the grey sheets, your thighs squeezing her hand in between them as you sob out.

Ellie meets your eyes, stealing your attention from the camera she keeps focused on your squirming frame, pounding her fingers into your cunt. “Cum for me, you can do it baby, go on. Give me a pretty show.”

And you do. Your sweaty back lifts off the bed with a sharp sob as the cord in your tummy snaps, gushing around Ellie’s fingers, pulsing around her as she thrusts shallowly, riding you through it.

Your vision goes black for a second as you heave, hands shaking as you reach out for Ellie, fingers looking to curl around her warm skin.

You don’t even notice the off click of the camera, of how she lets it softly drop to the side as she climbs up your shaky form, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“So pretty,” Ellie hums, “Prettiest movie star ever,” she mumbled, and you pour your lips— getting another soft kiss as she continues to plant tiny loving pecks around your face.

“Never should’ve let you keep that camera,” you whisper gently, smiling right when she does against the corner of your mouth that she pecks at.

“Yea fuckin’ right, we just made the movie of the year babe.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff

[toptierteaser]

Tubby Guy on the Treadmill

"Woah! Oh, come on man! This is so embarrassing! Fuck, dude! C'mon! You know I can't run on that thing!"

You whimper as the Coach prods you up onto the treadmill, digging his sturdy poking stick into your plump, juicy love handle.

"Well," sneers the coach, alternating from your love handle on the left to the one on your right. You stifle a squeal as the sensation of wood being pressed into your sensitive flesh flusters you further. "You should have thought about that before you stuffed your fat fucking face, shouldn't you, porker?"

You can only whimper as he pokes you forward, as you waddle, feeling your plumped-up body rebelling against your tight, restricting clothes. Your t-has already come untucked, your ass wide, threatening to bust straight out of your tight, Camp-issued running shorts. As you waddle forward, each cheek rises and falls with a shuddering quiver, driving your tight briefs farther up between your massive butt cheeks. You resist the urge to pick your wedgie, knowing it will only draw more ridicule from the handsome, fit handler who herds you along. But the feeling of yourself getting closer to busting every shred of fabric, the tightness wedged up every crevice and between every roll has begun to drive you mad!

You arrive, fat and chubby as you look forward onto the treadmill. How much have you packed on since your arrival at the Camp? Fifty pounds? One hundred? An embarrassing amount, there's no arguing that! The coach gives your waistband a tug, signaling for you to stop and you oblige.

"Welcome, Camper!" says a booming, masculine voice from above. Another Coach, no doubt. Another fit, handsome jock who looks down on you like a tubby sack of blubber. You blush as you hear the taunting in his voice, the smile audible over the speaker. "Well, it seems that it's been a while since you've taken to one of these...been skipping out during workouts, have we?" Your plump bottom lip drops in embarrassment, but before you can muster up the courage to answer, the voice continues. "No matter. Today's exercise is merely a...measurement of sorts...an estimate of your stamina. Does that make sense, big boy?"

You nod, though the voice certainly hasn't answered every question reeling in your mind.

"Very good. You'll find this exercise to be much easier the more agreeable you are. Now, please mount the treadmill.” The Coach gives your fat ass a sharp prod and you waddle forward, planting first one heavy foot onto the floor of the treadmill and then another. You find some difficulty mounting properly, your wide hips and juicy love handles getting caught on the armrests.

“Oh my…does our Camper there need some butter to help him squeeze in?”

Spurned on by the thought of the Coach behind you excitedly rubbing your exposed chub as you helplessly attempt to wriggle your lardy ass onto the treadmill before an entire panel of Coaches, you manage to wriggle through, belly wobbling ridiculously as you finally make it. You swear you can hear a sharp ‘BWOMP’ as your juicy ass snaps through behind you and your cheeks turn crimson!

“Well fatty—I mean, camper—I trust you know how a treadmill works?”

You nod.

“Very good. Though, of course it doesn’t look like it. Now, your expectations are as follows. You will be tasked with a simple jog. A measurement of your endurance. Everything will be recorded and documented, from your breathing to your…ahem…body movements. The large red button before you…” you look noticing the impossible-to-miss red button directly in front of your face. “…is for tapping out…only when you simply cannot continue to waddle—I mean run—any further! Is that understood?”

Again you nod.

“Very good. The punishment for tapping out early is severe…” you don’t know what that could possibly entail, but you know it’s nothing good. “Oh, one more thing,” says the disembodied voice. You hear a sharp clack sound from above and watch as something descends above your head. “You will also be incentivized here to continue your jogging for as long as possible…so we have included some…treats…to entice you. As the item descends, you notice a cheeseburger tied to a string dangling right before your eyes. about a few feet above, tied to the same string, is a donut…and above that, a cupcake! Your pulse quickens in helpless excitement as you spot some of your favorite treats dangling above!

“Does that look sufficient to you, big boy?” says the voice. You simply look dumbly at the long string of the dozens of snacks ready for you to consume. “Excellent.” Says the voice. “Now, let us begin. We’ll start slow.” You hear a distinct clank and feel the treadmill begin to move beneath your feet. Instinctively, you step forward, towards the burger that dangles tantalizingly out of reach. You will have to earn it, you know that! But they aren’t making you waddle too fast just yet! You can do this! You waddle forward, feeling your cheeks jiggle behind you like separate, massive entities, your belly rising and falling with every step, your love handles shaking funnily at your sides. Everything is chubby, everything plump. You become more flustered as you feel your thighs rubbing, your elbows pushing up against your love handles as you waddle forward. You can feel the eyes of the Coach behind you, fixated on your widened body. You must look ridiculous, blubbing out of your workout clothes like a pig! Chasing a cheeseburger on a string! And next a donut! And next a cupcake! You can hear the snickering over the loudspeaker, the stifled laughing of the Coach behind you. But as you become consumed with the waddling and the jiggling and the rubbing, the ever-present promise of the cheeseburger that gets a millimeter closer with every step, you are left with little room to consider anything else but the promise of food and the sheer embarrassment of being a butterball on a treadmill…

#gaining weight #teaser #bhm weight gain #chubby #fatty #fatass #fat belly #fat bhm #feedee encouragement #fatboy #weight gain story #bhm wg #male wg #exjock

[hongism]

29 - s.mingi - punishment + dacryphilia (18+)

» s.mingi x fem!reader » pwp, 18+ » language, mentions of drinking/smoking, explicit smut » wc 8.1k » link to masterlist » repost now that tumblr solved my tagging issues! fingers crossed everything works as normal now 🤞

smut warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, manual stimulation, oral sex: m, unprotected sex, facial, creampie, dirty talk, pet names: baby/baby girl/princess, crying during sex, deepthroating/face-fucking, edging, orgasm control, overstimulation

“So, you ever gonna tell me where you were last Tuesday?”

You can’t say that you weren’t expecting the question to come eventually, especially after you left Mingi with such a shitty excuse about not being able to meet up, but you expected to at least have a few more hours to get a story together before he cornered you here in one Choi San’s kitchen on a Friday evening. There’s an assortment of drinks spread out over the counters, no doubt in the fridge as well, but you aren’t after any of those goods in particular right now. Instead, you opt to simply snag water from the fridge and turn to face Mingi as you’re unscrewing the cap.

“Hm? What happened last Tuesday?” The quaint tilt of your chin does nothing to solidify your innocence, and Mingi’s sharp stare hones in on your face within seconds.

“You tell me, yn.”

Your lips part to prepare some sort of response, gaze trailing off to the ceiling as you piece together the excuse of a story. Mingi grants you that much, at least, even if it’s a show of how extravagantly you’re about to lie to him here and now. He leans around you as you’re gathering your thoughts, reaching for the counter and snagging a beer off it. You’d be impressed with his strength if you didn’t know that it’s the kind that screws off at the cap because Hongjoong has dainty hands that can easily be injured and he’s no good at opening bottles, thus San coddles him as such even when it comes to house parties.

“Well… I remember getting dinner with a few people. Didn’t drink or smoke anything because I had an early shift the next day. Then I went home.”

“Went home, huh?”

“We don’t typically get together on Tuesdays, Min,” you say between sips, arching a brow at the man who stands across from you. He pauses as well just to stand a little straighter and look you in the eye before arching one of his one brows — the pierced one that has a little black barbell poking through the skin — at you in return. His silence allows you a moment of reprieve, even if it comes at the cost of his staring so heavily at your face all the while. Still, you make no effort to conceal the way you drag your own gaze from his face down his body, taking in the ill-fitting tank top that has obscenely large holes cut out for his arms to stick through. You’d argue that it fits a bit better than it used to with how he’s been bulking up and putting on muscle these days, but you would also never give him the pleasure of hearing your appreciation out loud. He hears enough of it in the late hours of the night, three or four times a week as he has you pressed into the mattress in your apartment. The tank also gives you an eyeful of one of your favorite pieces in Mingi’s extensive collection — the snaking vines of tattoos that spread from his wrists up to his shoulders, dipping beneath the fabric and leaving much to the imagination. But of course, you don’t need to think too hard about what’s underneath when you see it as often as you do.

“What are you smirking about?” he questions, pulling your focus back up to his face before you can dip below the waistline.

“Thinking about what a lucky girl I am, that’s all.” You push off the counter to step around your friend, laying a hand on his shoulder as you slip between his body and the fridge to get past. “Got a big strong man all to myself.”

“That so?” He turns with you like his gaze is glued to you and can’t be separated even for a second. “Which one would that be?”

In hindsight, you should also have known that Mingi is smart enough to figure out little nuances and pick up on context clues when they’re presented to him. Thankfully, you have your back to him now so the shock doesn’t register on your face by the time you shift to look back at him over your shoulder. There’s a smile planted on your lips instead, one that you hope deters him for a little while longer.

“Look in the mirror some, pretty boy.”

You dip out of the kitchen then to rejoin the others in the living room, sinking to the couch cushions between San and some girl you’ve never seen before.

“Freshly rolled, milady,” San says through a dimpled grin as he lifts a somewhat sketchy-looking joint to dangle before your face. You’d decline if it were coming from anyone other than San — you’ve seen your fair share of sketchy and downright awful homemade joints come from his hands, but he is also the only one amongst your friend group who has the patience and tact to do it. (That, and you’re still vacuuming weed out of the carpet in your own living room from when Wooyoung and Mingi had a rolling contest that resulted in what can only be considered a horrendous fire hazard.)

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Hongjoong is sat on the other side of San, knees pulled up to his chest and tucked into the armrest as though he’s trying to make himself seem as small as possible. You barely get a glimpse at the red cup in his hands before San’s broad shoulders are blocking your view and you have to give up. The group tonight is quite large, more than the typically small get-togethers that you’re used to having with the others where it’s only eight or nine of you at most. San seems to have invited quite a few more party-goers this time around, which you hardly mind all in all.

“Can I crash in your room tonight?” you ask as San is in the midst of pulling a lighter up to the end of the joint.

“Mhm, just don’t get cum on the sheets.” His grin is nothing but cheeky, although that doesn’t keep you from whacking his arm with your free hand once he sets the lighter aside.

“Oh, fuck off!”

“I’m gonna be busy getting some on someone else’s sheets later so I won’t have time to police you about it.”

“You’re so nasty.” The man simply passes off the comment with a laugh, leaning back into the couch cushions with a dopey little grin that tells you he’s already hit a joint himself more than a few times tonight. As he moves, Hongjoong goes with him, stretching his legs out across the party host’s lap and letting San slump against his body. You snort at the minute show of affection and take a hit from the joint between your fingers.

“You’re the one—” San pauses to make a crude gesture involving his index finger and a lightly balled fist “—one of the two towers over there.”

Following the jerk of his chin isn’t too difficult, but you still regret glancing over in that direction because it means you make eye contact with the exact man you were trying to avoid in the kitchen earlier. Your stare flickers away too quickly to read as confident, and the only viable distraction within reach is San’s homemade joint. You aren’t too interested in getting too high tonight, just enough to get a little light and airy if anything, so as soon as you catch Wooyoung moving past the back of the couch, you pass the joint off to him before he gets too far away. Two hits will leave you fully lucid but any more than that and you’d be pushing the buttons on an emotional rollercoaster that you aren’t wanting to have in front of a bunch of strangers.

“Both… well, only once for one of them,” you mutter under your breath with the hope that Mingi hasn’t miraculously gained the skill of lip-reading.

“Is that where you were last Tuesday?” Hongjoong pipes up this time, pulling himself a little straighter to get a better look at you and you nearly hiss at him to keep it down.

“A lady never kisses and tells,” you say instead with a smile plastered over your lips. That has both men hollering in each other’s arms, one high and the other quite tipsy from the looks of it, but you’re happy to be their entertainment even if only for a few minutes.

“No wonder Min was fuming! Oh, I’d fucking kill to be a fly in the wall in that room when shit hits the fan.” San exhales a deep sigh, head tipping from side to side as he speaks. His laugh turns airy as he tips his body further back, sinking hard into Hongjoong’s body and knocking them both to the cushions. You don’t share in his amusement, however, as you turn to regard him with a furrowed brow and confusion etched across your features. Hongjoong notices the shift in your expression before San has the chance to.

“You might think about putting a muzzle on that one—” his gaze shifts as discreetly as possible to where Yunho sits “—‘cause he’s a little loose-lipped.”

Your lips draw into a tight purse, pulling to one corner of your mouth. You aren’t really upset about Yunho saying something — neither of you had an agreement on anything of the sort, and you’re smart enough to know how men behave at this point in your life. It is a bit funny though, in your opinion, for Mingi to be the one angry (undoubtedly jealous on top of that) when the two of you simply hook up when there aren’t other options available. You just so happened to have another option available last week, one that was quite hard to pass up on and very much worth the exhaustion and soreness that came the next day.

“Though, I suppose only the two of us know about what you and Min do when left alone.” When you shift to pass a half-hearted glare in Hongjoong’s direction, he’s wearing a shit-eating grin that makes you want to smack him even more. If not for the lengthy stretch it would take to get past the guard dog that drapes over him in the form of Choi San, you would certainly go through all that trouble just to yank his ear a little. Instead of dealing with that, you push up from where you’ve crammed yourself on the couch and move to step around the furniture — not without kicking at Hongjoong’s foot as you pass just because it’s within reach and San is out of it. That creeping lightness coming from the weed is starting to sink into your bones and make you feel everything a little more intensely. “Remember not to mess up the sheets!”

You don’t turn to see if Hongjoong catches the middle finger you send his way, but you do make for the stairs solely with the excuse that you have to use the bathroom planted at the tip of your tongue if anyone asks. Of course, that comes as a shroud to the real reason you’re headed up there, because you know someone will follow and you expect nothing less from him anyway.

The two of you follow a rather simple formula when it comes to parties like these, which is part of the reason San and Hongjoong both know about what you get up to at these events after having been caught in various corners of the house by both men multiple times. And while you are more than willing and able to mess around with the man without anything in your system, you like fucking Mingi best when you’re a little high and can feel every sensation that much more with him. You linger at the top of the stairs before heading straight for San’s room, pausing on the landing to angle yourself over the railing and peer down the flight of stairs as you wait for your companion’s head to pop up. He comes quicker than you expected him to and with a good deal of determination to his steps that makes him look entirely suspicious on all accounts.

“Everyone is gonna guess what we’re up to with you marching up here like that,” you drawl from your spot at the railing, chin coming to rest on the wood as you speak down at him. Mingi hesitates midway up the stairs, and his chin tilts up to find the source of your voice. Despite the grin playing at your lips, he doesn’t return the humor with even a small laugh.

“Good, then maybe they’ll get the hint,” he snips back.

A sigh escapes you, and you turn your head until your cheek presses into the wood. Leaving one hand to dangle by your side, you bring the other up to stretch over the length of the railing. Mingi walks up the rest of the flight of stairs, rounding the edge of the landing with a hand that skates over yours with a barely-there touch. You hum in the back of your throat. He tilts his head to match yours, and although the angle should be wholly awkward and nothing else, you feel that familiar thrum of arousal boiling deep in your gut when he meets your eyes. The sharpness in his tone doesn’t match the way he looks down at you — you know that much for certain, and you can safely take that as a hint that he’s not nearly as upset with you as he is with Yunho.

“Did you do it on purpose?” he asks nonetheless. He’s fishing for an answer you don’t have, but you can’t deny that there’s some sick part of you that wants to play into it and see how possessive he can get. “To make me jealous?”

“Hm.” You pull yourself back into an upright position a little too quickly, and the rush of blood to your head coupled with the tingling in your nerves makes your vision swim some. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.” Mingi moves back to prop himself against the wall opposite the railing, and you make the pointed (and extremely difficult) decision not to eye the tremors in the muscles of his arms as he tugs them across his chest. As your eyes sweep over his torso to focus on his face once more, you shift to let your back rest against the wall the railing provides and secure your hands behind you on the lip of it. “He offered, and I accepted. Simple as that.”

“Simple, huh?” He makes it hard to not give into a wandering gaze when he’s drumming his fingers along the inked skin of his forearm. “Except he’s supposed to know you’re off-limits.”

“I can’t sleep with other people? Maybe I missed the memo that said we’re exclusive, Min.”

“You can sleep with anyone with you want,” Mingi starts, pulling his head forward a little as his gaze turns fiery, “but my best friend can’t sleep with you. And he knows that. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Then that’s not anyone I want, big boy.”

“If he offered, then he’s the one who presented the opportunity.”

“Maybe he was trying to get you to be a real man.”

“A real man?” Mingi echoes, and now his lips stretch to form a grin that displays his teeth. You dip your chin down with a laugh, hand subconsciously coming up to hover over your face. When you blink back up at your companion, he has his tongue pushed between his lips and teases the corner of his mouth, a gesture you know to read frustration. You smile despite yourself. A glint bounces off his tongue and reflects the ball of metal that sits caught between his teeth. “Didn’t know you could be such a brat, angel, you’re usually so good and pliant when I’m fuckin’ you into the mattress.”

“You could try asking Yunho then, princess, I’m sure he’d love to answer any questions you might have given how mouthy he’s apparently been.” Some part of you realizes that you’re pushing your luck perhaps a little too far, but if Yunho is going to talk himself then you believe yourself to have every right to do the same as long as it benefits you. “Did he tell you how he fucked me? How many marks he left on my body? If you look hard enough, I bet you could find some leftover ones.”

“Look, doll, because I know he called you that thinking it was charming—” Mingi shoves himself off the wall and takes a single step in your direction, but that’s enough to have you pulling yourself straighter and swallowing around nothing. “You can let yourself believe he fucked you nice just ‘cause he’s got a dick nearly as big as mine, but you’re up here with me, looking to get fucked by me, and testing me and my patience so I give it to you better than he could ever hope to. But you can keep playing that game and scamper on downstairs to his lap if you wanna. I’ll wait.”

“You know I won’t do that, Min. Not when you’re offering so sweetly like this. But I appreciate how willing you are to let me have whatever I want.” You drop your head to the side and glance down the flight of stairs that’s at your back. There’s no one there — not that you expected there to be — but this shroud of privacy you have with the man can’t last that long when so many people are in the house right now. You aren’t as high as you’d like to be, not as much as usual, mostly because Mingi is making your thoughts clear up bit by bit with each step he takes in your direction. It’s wholly distracting while also keeping you honed in on every little shift in his muscles, from the twitch of his fingers around the railing as he closes in on you to the twitch hanging about the corner of his mouth. “Should I take you up on your offer the way I did with Yunho?”

“I’m a jealous person, darling. If you’re gonna want me, then you’re gonna have to want me the most.”

You let him minimize the distance between your torsos, feeling his feet stop short of yours as he leans over you with the height advantage he has. That alone is a bit dizzying solely because it lets you get an eyeful of his inked arms all the way up to where those strands of tattoos dip under the baggy fabric of his shirt and where his muscles shine through the most.

“Why don’t you look in the mirror, huh?” You push a pout onto your lips as you speak, brows drawing into a tight knot that’s hardly serious, but it makes Mingi’s harshness falter nonetheless. “Showing yourself off like this, how am I supposed to know you’re not trying to get some other girl to want you?”

He catches your bluff a moment later, unfortunately for you because you had hoped to let the charade linger in the air a little while longer, but it turns favorable when he pushes the point of his nose under your jaw.

“I can want you the most, Mingi,” you continue still. Your voice is airy like you’re already out of breath, accompanied by a sweet sigh that makes Mingi nuzzle into your warm skin even more. “Shall I prove it?”

“I shouldn’t give you what you want so easily,” he murmurs against your neck. One of his large hands sweeps up from the railing to move across your collarbone, skating over the skin and up your throat so he can cup the point of your chin and dig his thumb into your lower lip. Your teeth graze his nail but never fully latch onto the digit as he tugs harder at your chin. “Should tease you the way you teased me, but I can’t do that.”

“Do you have other plans for me then?”

Mingi pulls up from your neck at the question, eyes finding yours without hesitation and digging deep into whatever emotion you’re hiding there.

“Oh angel, I have a whole number of plans for you tonight. It’s just a matter of whether you’ll be able to go that many rounds with me.”

You huff out a laugh, partially out of disbelief, and push your tongue between the parted line of your teeth. Mingi pushes his thumb up against the tip of your tongue then and nudges his way into your mouth with little to no resistance on your part. It’s a heady sensation, letting Mingi take over like that, but it’s made even more delicious with the knowledge that you’re fully in control at the end of the night. Even now, you pull his thumb deeper between your lips to let it rest fully against your tongue, and that’s the only thing keeping you from smirking at him while you do so. When you pull off, it’s with a grossly wet pop that sounds far lewder than it should. Mingi’s neck is tinted pink.

“I should’ve done that downstairs for everyone to see, I’m sure.” As an answer to your quip, Mingi pulls his free hand up to rest against the small of your back. He tugs you away from the blunt edge of the railing, leaving you to throw a hand up between your bodies to keep your head from knocking into his chin immediately.

“I don’t want you putting on a show for anyone but me.”

“Now that’s a red flag if I’ve seen one.”

“You gonna not fuck me because of it?” He seems to know your answer without you needing to say it, and without needing to watch the way your eyes roll to the side as you smile. Still, you offer that much, if only because you know there’s a long list of red flags he could point out in return. Ever the gentleman, he doesn’t.

“I think every good girl wants a bad boy, at least a little. I happen to want you a lot.” He’s giving a marvelous show of restraint from your perspective because you can’t imagine a time when he’s gone this long without claiming your lips, but he forgoes that gesture in favor of pulling you to the opposite wall. Your body hits with a soft thud, barely an impact with his hand blocking most of the pressure he gives by nudging a thigh between your legs.

“That’s only applicable if you’re a good girl.”

“Am I not?” Your lip catches between your teeth as you pose the question, and while you’re fully aware of the answer to it, it still fills you with endless delight to see the way Mingi seethes at your audacity to ask such a thing. His hands come down strong on either side of your head — not threatening, but firmly in a way that sends a thrill of arousal straight to your gut. His thigh tenses where it rests between your legs, making it near impossible to ignore the flexing muscles that press right against your clothed crotch. You’re certain he feels it just as much as you do.

“You most certainly are not, darling.”

“What are you gonna do about it then?” His proximity makes it difficult for you to move at all, but when you start inching along the wall in an attempt to get closer to San’s door, Mingi moves like a man possessed, following your movements with his own. “Nothing drastic I hope…?” You sink your teeth into your lower lip, reaching around the edge of the doorframe to grab at the handle.

“I think you’d like it better if I did, yn.”

Your fingers twitch against the cool metal before closing around it.

“Maybe I wanna just hear if you’ve got any bright ideas in that head of yours. You’re usually quite creative with the way we do things, darling.”

“Nothing’s punishment to you. Not when you enjoy it the way you do.” He takes a step back to regard you with a sharp stare, one that is a little ambiguous in terms of emotion and leaves you wondering what exactly is on his mind as he watches you. Still, you take the chance he provides to slip in front of the door and pop it open, releasing the seal on the room and making the tension in the air spike. It becomes something even more enticing, a thing that’s not fully within reach as you have the out you were after, the metaphorical nail in the coffin to get what you’re after, and you know Mingi sees it as such himself because he drags his tongue over his lower lip and lets his gaze wander down your legs. “Would still love to make you cry on my cock though.”

You pause midway through the doorframe to eye Mingi’s expression once more. There’s a sadistic sort of grin toying at the edges of his lips as he looks back at you, dragging his eyes up from your body to land on your face once more.

“Think you can manage it?”

“I know I always do.”

There’s something dirty in the way he kisses you then, tongue breaching the line of your lips with no resistance on your part, and when his tongue presses hot and heavy against yours, you feel something clench tight in your chest. You like it best this way: when he’s rough, when he doesn’t treat you delicately and instead kisses you like it might literally be the last time he can get his hands on you, and perhaps that's what you missed so desperately with Yunho. Mingi knows your body like the back of his hand and knows how to push all your buttons and toy with your strings. Part of you wonders (and is very self-aware about it) if the reason you don’t let things go any further between the two of you is out of an innate fear that things will change if feelings were truly involved. Maybe if love was part of the equation, he wouldn’t be as willing to have you this way, or maybe you wouldn’t enjoy it as much as you do now.

When he pushes you back into the safe privacy of San’s bedroom, you loop an arm around Mingi’s waist and pull him closer into your little bubble of space. The door falls shut behind him quickly and quietly, probably an effort on his part to maintain this little bit of privacy you have. One of these days you have to hand deliver a bouquet of flowers to San for even allowing you access to his room like this, but also for keeping your little secret just that the way he does.

Those thoughts leave you quickly, however, as Mingi’s large hands start to wander lower and skate over the curve of your ass. You groan into his mouth when he squeezes your flesh in his palms. You take the cue to lift your leg along his. There’s a rush of goosebumps over your skin as his hand moves along the line of your hamstring to hook at your knee, and when he rolls his hips towards yours, there’s much more contact this time. The firm bulge of his erection presses between your legs just enough to tease — it’s not nearly enough pressure to bring you the kind of pleasure you’re searching for. Maybe that frustration leaks into your next movements, into the way you kick your leg back down and bring your hands up to Mingi’s tank to push him off you for a moment. His lips part from yours with nothing more than a thin line of spit to connect the two of you but even that doesn’t last long as you fight to change your positions. Mingi lets it happen with a growing smile tugging at the corners of his lips, barely flinching when his knees hit the edge of the bed and make him collapse to the edge of the mattress.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, baby,” he murmurs as you drop to your knees between his legs. A scoff leaves your lips.

“What’s it look like, big boy?”

He hums, hand coming up to comb over your scalp for less than a second before the soft touch turns to a firmer grip that holds you in place for the time being.

“Gonna let me fuck your pretty mouth, yeah?”

Your fingers twitch against where you’ve just let them rest on his pants. It’s hard to maintain the fight you’ve been showing up until this point simply because of how damn pronounced his cock is through those pants, and how fucking badly you want to feel him against your tongue.

“You can work for it, can’t you?” you counter through gritted teeth instead of giving in right away. Still, your hands move against the waistband of his pants and continue with their path to work them down enough to give you some access to his member within. The fingers in your hair hold tighter as Mingi shifts his hips and lets you slide his pants down to the floor.

“Thinking about my cock between those lips.” He sounds a bit dazed already, which would be a new record for you, but it comes with his hand traveling from the top of your head down to your mouth. It doesn’t take much for him to cup your jaw and press the pads of his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. He doesn’t pinch your mouth open as he usually would, even when you pull his length out from its confines. You’re just close enough to kiss the tip, lips staying firmly shut as you tilt your head to wrap your kisses around the side of him.

“You’re always thinking about that though.” You pout just a little; it’s hard to do anything else with the control he has over your face right now. Mingi’s eyes move from your face down to where his cock rests against the curve of your lips. His other hand comes up from the mattress to take the place of the one he just had in your hair, and this time when he pinches your cheeks, your lips part just enough to welcome the leaking tip of his dick into your wet heat.

“Then open wide for me and lemme have it.” You ought to be ashamed of how hot and bothered his voice gets you, something so simple yet incredibly enticing on every level, but there’s no denying how the deep timbre of his voice sends heat right between your legs. You take him deeper into your mouth as his hand falls away from your cheeks. The one in your hair remains although it’s moreso there for him to simply touch because he clearly has no intent on doing any work himself. You don’t mind necessarily, taking your hand to wrap around the inches of his cock you can’t quite fit in your mouth without breaching your throat.

His next groan is much louder than the last little sigh of pleasure he let out, and it comes with him tilting his chin to the ceiling and leaning further back. You watch his movements carefully even with your mouth now fully occupied and hard at work. It’s equally intoxicating to watch him succumb to arousal and pleasure, and although the idea of him blindfolding you and just using his voice and hands to get you off is very enticing, you think you would miss seeing his face contort in pleasure the way it does now. You hollow your cheeks along his length as you pull up, barely stopping at the head of his cock before dipping back down to touch where your hand grips him.

Despite the lack of effort to fuck your mouth, you can see how he’s desperately trying to keep himself from doing exactly that. His lashes flutter as he blinks down between his legs to catch a glimpse of your lips stretched into an ‘o’ around his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You slip further down on his length, cheeks sucking in around him. “On your knees, taking my big cock like that.” A harder, more pointed suck as you dip your thumb down to trace over the sensitive skin of his balls. “Baby.”

His moans turn almost guttural as you continue until you give him a moment’s rest and tug off him to press your nose along the side of his cock now. You paint his skin with little kisses along the way, tracing over the places you’ve already touched with your tongue. It feels a bit like your nerve endings are being set on fire when he takes both hands to your hair and guides your head back to take his cock into your mouth. The first upwards thrust of his hips is gentle enough: testing and prodding at the limits as well as your well-being before he drives deeper into your mouth. Shock overwhelms you merely because of how quickly he flips the switch on you, and if not for the hand you smartly kept in place at the base of his cock, you would surely choke on his member without warning.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, but fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanna cover your pretty face in cum, wanna ruin you.”

All you can do is moan around his dick and hope that it’s an answer enough for him.

“You like it, princess? Want me to make your makeup run—” he thrusts hard enough to nudge into your throat, and your throat constricts around his tip by sheer instinct “—and mark you nicely with my cum?” Tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes already just from the sheer force of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but there’s also this antsy frustration that is building up in your gut from going this long without any relief of your own. You want him to touch you desperately at this point, so much so that you take it upon yourself to retract a hand to settle between your legs and press against the sensitive nub of your clit through your underwear. Even that slight bit of relief feels so heavenly that you whine around Mingi’s cock. Eyes squeezing shut, you let your jaw go slack as he continues to use your face and work your fingers over your clit until the wetness seeps through the fabric of your panties. “You’re so fucking good, yn, letting me use you like this. Look at you getting off on it too. Like getting used that much?”

A breath of pause in his words where he inhales sharply like he’s weighing what he wants to say next. It works to his advantage because his next statement hits you like a ton of bricks, sharp and pointed and spoken with irrevocable confidence that makes your thighs tremble.

“Knew he wasn’t good enough to please you properly.”

Your moans get louder in volume only because he pulls his cock from the wet cavern that is your mouth but you’re still dazed enough to leave your lips hanging open as your fingers move faster against your cunt. Mingi doesn’t knock your hand away from the base of his length but he wraps a hand over himself nonetheless and jerks over the wet path you left on him. The sounds are sinful as can be, wet and messy to match your equally-ruined expression.

“Close your eyes, princess.” You barely have time to do that much before hot ropes of cum are spilling out over your features, painting your face from forehead to chin with no real direction, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he’s milked his cock for all its worth on you. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His large hands move to your body, lifting you off your knees with a ridiculous amount of ease, and while you don’t want to, you’re forced to stop touching yourself as he nudges you onto the bed without further ado.

“In me, Mingi, I want you inside—”

“Shh, gotta prep you first, baby girl, I ain’t that heartless.” Even with his sweet consideration, you whine like you’ve been eternally denied what you’re after, fists balling up around the comforter as you press your face into it. Mingi lifts your hips high enough to get you to brace yourself on your knees. It makes your skirt swoop forward, assisted of course by Mingi who shoves the material up over your ass without an ounce of hesitation. The new position is hardly inconspicuous in the slightest, and well beyond the realm of suggestiveness to the point where if any one of your friends were to come in unannounced, you would have no chance of defending yourself from their suspicions. You can only hope that San and Hongjoong both remember to deter anyone from trying to use San’s room for its bathroom because you well and truly don’t want to move from this position at all. The mere thought of Mingi having you like this, bent over your form as he drills into your cunt and pins your wrists to the bed is enough to make your core clench around nothing.

“Just—” you interrupt your own train of thought with a whine that breaches your lips without thought, and Mingi is the one to elicit it from you as he drags the blunt ends of his nails over your ass while tugging your underwear down. “Min…”

“I’m not fuckin’ you until you’re in tears, baby.” If that’s his version of punishment then you consider it to be only mildly effective because you’re frustrated and pent-up enough at this point to where you might just cry for the hell of it to soften him up a bit. But then his fingers come to brush through the line of your folds, skating over the wetness that’s pooled there, and without warning, he pushes two fingers into your fluttering hole. The haste with which he does so has you releasing a noise so embarrassing that you push your cheek further into the sheets in an (ineffective) attempt to hide yourself from Mingi’s prying eyes. “Gotta see you to know when that is, yn.”

You get an eyeful of his half-grin and the sharp curve of his lips, and that’s unfortunately enough for you to tilt your head so that he can see your face a bit better.

“There’s my pretty girl.” The praise goes straight between your legs, making you clench blindly around the fingers Mingi has pumping in and out of your cunt. He curls them at the second knuckle at the same time and prods deeper inside you until he pushes up against the spot that really makes your head spin and vision go blurry. He pays such close attention to that spot that you hardly notice it when he slips a third digit into you. The sole infuriating nuance to his actions is how he doesn’t quite hit your g-spot the way you want him to: not with force or direct pressure. He merely teases the flesh around it, nudging closer and closer to it without quite giving you the satisfaction you want from it. Yet each time you open your mouth to complain about the treatment, he deliberately presses into it with one finger as though to tell you ‘see I’m giving you what you want, you can’t complain‘.

You have to keep your fists balled around the comforter to quell the shaking in your fingers, but your whole body is trembling at this point with how many times Mingi has brought you right to the precipice of a mindblowing orgasm only to steal that heat away and focus on stretching your walls around his fingers.

“H-Haven’t you — Min… come on!”

“Hm? What is it you want, baby girl? I can’t read your mind.”

“Insufferable, you’re so annoying, I can’t stand you, you’re so — ugh!” Perhaps it’s his antics that pluck at your nerves like they’re nothing more than strings for him to play with, but the unending routine of getting closer and closer to your satisfaction without truly getting it reaches its peak as you sob against the mattress and finally let tears fall.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, yn.” You don’t bother looking back at Mingi’s face when he pulls his fingers out of your cunt, but you are vaguely aware of his other hand coming up to brush over the tears on your cheeks. That only lasts a second before his hand comes down to rest over where yours still clenches the bedsheets so tight that your knuckles bleed white. Another sob tumbles out of you as you feel the blunt tip of his cock pushing up against your slit, and your whole body trembles under Mingi’s weight right after. He sinks his length into you slowly, letting it fill you and stretch you as he pushes inch after inch into you. “Let go of the bed, baby, I’ve got you.” You do as told without complaint or resistance this time. Mingi draws your wrists up higher along the bed until they’re both perched closer to the pillows, then he settles his hips fully against your backside, draping his form over yours.

“F-Fuck me, please, stop — stop making me wait,” you say barely louder than a whisper because your throat already feels scratchy and overused.

“Of course, pretty angel, anything for you.”

The first real drive of his cock into you is maddening at best, a sweet slide of pressure and relief that makes you cry out louder than before, and he continues to build up a steady pace that fills the air with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. You aren’t at all surprised that he’s already hard a second time; he usually pushes you to the limit with how many rounds he likes to go. Equally unsurprising is the way his thrusts quickly lose their rhythm and turn into sharp, punctuated thrusts that threaten to knock your hips all the way down to the bed. He’s muttering quite a bit in your ear — things you aren’t wholly processing because you finally get to chase that sweet pleasure you’ve been denied all this time. You aren’t aware of how noisy you’re being either until Mingi brings a hand down to tilt your mouth closer to the sheets to shush you some. You take it in stride, for whatever that’s worth, and simply clench tighter around his dick as he seeks the angle that will make you see stars.

A white-hot pleasure sears through your system with enough force to make your back curl and have you writhing under Mingi’s weight.

“Got it,” he murmurs behind you, sounding insufferably proud of himself, but you don’t have it in you to chastise him for it. What you do do, however, is free one of your hands to throw it behind you, grabbing for his hip and trying to encourage him to keep at it for your sake. He catches your wrist between his fingers before you have the chance though, and rather than pushing it back to the bed, he simply pins your arm behind your back and uses you as leverage to fuck up against that spot along your walls over and over again.

And in your defense, you don’t usually cum so quickly but he’s been teasing you and riling you up for so long at this point that you don’t find yourself embarrassed in the slightest when your walls start to pulse around his length. The euphoric pleasure is certainly worth it too, the release you were after finally sending shockwaves through your system until your toes curl and your neck hurts from the angle you’ve got it tilted at. Mingi keeps at his pace, only slowed a hair by your cunt squeezing tight around his cock, and he shows no signs of being close behind you until you’re back to sobbing into the mattress. Your core can’t keep pace with the drives of his cock, clenching and fluttering at odd intervals while Mingi chases a second high to pump into you.

“Gonna cum, baby.”

“In — inside, don’t you dare pull out.” Spoken through gritted teeth, you sound a little angry but also choked because of the tears that are still leaking out of your eyes and onto the bed. You aren’t sure if your tone is what pushes him over the edge, but you do catch the glint in his eyes as you inadvertently glare over your shoulder at him, and your only thought is that it’s simply another exciting facet to explore with him later.

His orgasm finally comes, to your relief because it means your cunt finally gets to break from his ruthless pace and the obscene stretch around his length, and it comes with a string of colorful expletives that are spoken through broken groans. You echo his groan albeit very much so not in the same kind of pleasure he’s experiencing as his weight fully collapses on top of you and nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.

“You’re so—”

“Go again?”

“No. For once you oaf, no,” you whine from under him, twisting your body as best you can like it’ll help your case. Mingi has enough energy to laugh, a full and throaty noise that always makes your heart somersault, then he’s peeling his body off yours to let you breathe easy again.

“Was I too rough?”

“Nooo, no, you were so good, Min.” His hands are already wandering to turn you over onto your back. “So fucking good, if I had the energy, I’d want you to do that several more times.”

“Yeah? That so?” He’s laughing again, either at your drawling tone or at the way you curl your arms and legs around his body to get him to lift you off the bed.

“You got cum in my hair…”

“I’ll wash it out for you.”

Showering is a feat in and of itself that you’re almost too tired to accomplish on your own, so when Mingi slips in behind you midway through and finishes washing your skin down, you’re more than a little grateful for the help. Not enough to get on your knees on that tiled floor, but grateful still.

And as is routine at this point, the two of you stumble back to San’s bed in a dark room, tangling yourselves in the sheets together like a perfectly mismatched puzzle.

“When you said maybe Yunho was trying to get me to be a real man… what did you mean by that?”

“Don’t push it, Min.” You can feel the man shifting at your back but the arm resting under your head doesn’t move, and he continues with the soft circles that he’s massaging into your skin with that hand. “We really did fuck though. It’s not some practical joke or just me trying to get under your skin. We fucked, and I liked it, but I didn’t like it the way I like it with you so I don’t think I wanna sleep with him again.”

“He remembered protection, right?”

“Yes, Min, of course he did. And if he hadn’t, I would have.”

Mingi huffs through his nose, a little indignant and very much dramatic, yet he seems to settle down just fine in the following seconds. Warm blooms over your head, a telltale sign of how close his face is to the crown of your head, and he twists his whole body to curl further around yours.

“Let’s keep at it then.”

Internally, you laugh a little solely because of how nonchalant Mingi makes it sound when the subject matter isn’t something as simple as that. Belatedly, you’re struck with a certain realization that makes your blood run cold and has you jerking in Mingi’s hold to look at the side of his face.

“What?”

“San said not to get cum on the sheets and you shoved my whole face in them!”

"It was just the comforter..."

"Just the comforter?!"

#mingi smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #ateez fic #caly.writes

[hemipenal-system]

Malware I

Reveria rolled her eyes, servos clicking in a way only she could hear, blinking apathetically as she turned her music up. She understood the stares, as much as she despised them. Mugorra didn't get many synthetics like her, especially on Outer Ring trains. The long, heavy shawl she wore covered most of her slender body, both to keep the sand out of her joints and to deflect any further stares.

She wasn't exactly subtle – people of all kinds drifted through here, but being a foot taller than the average human with glowing orange eyes and an extra set of arms made one stick out.

The job was simple. Get in to the storage container, get the silver case, and get out. Perhaps a tier below the usual bloodshed for a KALI-6 class synthetic, but she was doing her best to lay low and take whatever jobs would get her least noticed.

She was trying to sit somewhat still. The case wasn't large, but it was stuffed under her shawl at the moment, and occasionally a corner poked out. She shifted her grip again, moving her hand on the handle for a more comfortable position.

ding

She heard the quiet internal chime and froze. That noise meant something had connected to her. Nothing should have been able to. The shawl had a Faraday cage sewn into the fabric, and it was snapped snug around her. Wireless signals shouldn't have been able to get through, unless-

Shit. The fucking case. She ducked down into the shawl quickly to inspect the case. When she had taken it, she hadn't looked thoroughly enough at it, and had apparently missed the quick contact port in the handle that now stared back at her, her thumb an inch from it after swiping across it when she shuffled it in her secondary arms.

[Download Requested]

Fuck. Every urge in her body was screaming at her to hurl the case away. She had to maintain a facade of order. If she got the case out of the shawl it would block the download, but she couldn't take it out without raising suspicion. This was a poor district. No one carried anything like it here. She couldn't even cancel or acknowledge the download request because she was set up for somakinetic controls and that kind of movement was out of the question.

[Download Proceeding]

What the fuck was she supposed to do about that? She couldn't contact her handler this far underground, and she doubted he'd even know how to fix a software issue with her. She'd foregone her normal backers and picked up a quick contract in the area from a sketchy Vinteran because she was trying to stay within city limits. Something had seemed wrong with him the entire briefing.

Many species got edgy around synthetics, especially KALI models, but this was something else. The whole time they talked, his eyes kept flicking to the door and across the room. Anywhere but her. She wasn't that intimidating, and most people in this business had dealt with scarier synths than her. She'd seen his arms. For as many tattoos as he had, each signifying a kill, she knew he'd seen worse.

Wait. There was another tattoo. Three triangles surrounding an S. Fuck. She sighed, more out of annoyance than actual worry. That slimy, two-faced scaly piece of shit was a Trigonalist. Of course. She'd worked with them before, but it was always born of desperate necessity. "Terrorist" was a strong term, but they weren't the best people out there.

That explained the job, then. She'd wondered why this case was being treated as so important. Lab-grown neurons were a dime a dozen, even out here, and a case that could hold maybe five or six brainslabs maximum couldn't have been worth what she was getting paid to retrieve it, especially since they were blank. But if they could get a small object inside her shawl and download something onto her, like remote access software or a location log?

Well, a KALI-6 class synthetic was decidedly not a dime a dozen anywhere.

[Download Complete]

She instinctively braced up, preparing herself. She'd been cyberattacked before, and she'd lived. She knew what to expect. It was probably going to either be excessive, disabling pop-ups or a logger she could sift through herself and cull later. Nothing too hard to handle.

She wasn't expecting the sharp, drowning techno in her ears to fade out and replace itself with soft jazz. Nor was she expecting the silk-smooth voice that seemed to rebound around the narrow train car, reverberating from everywhere and nowhere.

Hi, sweetie~

She tried to move her eyes, looking around for the speaker without moving her head.

Don't bother with that, darling, I'm still miles away from you! I'm surprised I could even get a connection down in those tunnels!

No one else seemed to be reacting to it. Everyone's faces were still cast down, trying not to make eye contact. It was too late at night for social interaction, especially with this trigger-happy crowd. Accidents happened down here all the time.

Oh, no one can hear me except you! Don't bother asking them for help. It'd be a shame if anyone were to think the big scary killsynth was attacking them. It would probably get... messy.

No one could hear the voice except for Reveria. That made it easier. If it was coming straight from an external source and being processed as speech, that was likely a remote access software. If she could activate a virus scrubber and get into a dead zone, it'd be easy enough to disable.

Oh no you don't, cutie. I'm all clientside. Besides, we're having fun, right?

She needed to know who this was. If she could hold onto this, she could take it into an Enforcement station. Granted, they likely wouldn't be happy to see her, but they'd most likely let her off for bringing in a Trigonalist. Disabling her external speakers, she cast her voice across the link.

Are you a synth? It was hard to know these days. Speech synthesizers had gotten so advanced since Reveria's assembly days.

No, I'm fully human, especially the bits that matter~

What's that supposed to mean?

Watch this! A new screen flicked open, overlaying above the occupants of the train car, showing a video at half transparency. It was enough to pick out details, at least. It just seemed to be... shapes? What was she looking at?

Oh. Oh, six suns. That was human genitalia. Close to the camera and at a strange angle, but still recognizable. Reveria watched with a combination of incredulous amazement and horror as the dripping hole a foot from her face was split open by pale, slender fingers capped with electric blue nails, index and pinky resting gently on the thighs as middle and ring curved delicately through the glistening pink flesh.

Could a synth do this? Technically yes, since most synths were modular enough to install... equipment down there, and some even accessorized with it as a fashion statement, changing it out by the day, but that was beside the point.

Is... is this live? In real time, I mean?

Obviously! Only the best for a pretty girl like you! The other hand, previously out of the camera, descended into the shot holding something that made Reveria's temperature jump up a bit.

Synths didn't really have genitalia, but plenty of aftermarket manufacturers made compatible items for them. She was ashamed to admit she owned a few of different makes and models, but a girl had needs. The voice in her head was holding one of Placebo's Bruiser models, one of Reveria's favorites. It was long and slender, with a ridged underside that featured a camouflaged electroconductive strip that boosted the signal from the partially conductive outer shell.

Said signal strength was entirely customizable for the enjoyment of the wearer, meaning when the voice ran her fingers slowly up the length then circled them around the pointed end, Reveria felt it all as she tried desperately to not buck her hips into the sensation, her body involuntarily seeking more stimulation for the appendage she didn't even have connected. Fuckin' wireless transmission...

Aww, does that feel good? Don't worry, I'll help you feel it~ Reveria tried to brace herself as the feminine words in her ear ran their fingers along the length again before angling it and pushing just the tip into herself. To the synth's immense embarrassment, she couldn't physically stop her hips from slamming forwards, immediately thanking whatever spectral forces existed that no one on the train noticed.

Oh? Someone wants me, huh? Here you go, then!

The synth stifled a scream as the voice slammed the entire length in at once, arching her back slightly for a better angle as the synth was forced to watch and feel all of it. The voice, for her part, was clearly also feeling it, as the constant noise attested. Reveria couldn't think clearly. No matter where she turned her head, she could see the human practically bouncing on it, to speak nothing of the feeling which only grew stronger as the human leaned forward. The synth could feel the human touching her, one hand on her shoulder and the other pressing her into the seat with a force that she knew wasn't real but certainly felt tangible enough.

She got a momentary relief from the constant whimpering in her ear when the brakes of the train activated, the loud screech drowning out all but the words, This is your stop! Don't miss it!

The moment the train had stopped, the needy whines returned. Reveria managed to stumble to her feet, shaking like a drunken Turvoss, and stagger off the train. She had barely made it to the platform before the fire in her midsection caught up to her and her legs practically buckled as the world was drowned out in a sea of white.

Fuck, Revi, don't just stop! I need you please don't stop now! The sensation of the length being ensheathed again was so much more powerful now, and if Reveria had been halfway lucid at this point she would have picked up on the fact that the human knew her name. As it was, that was far more thinking than she was capable of. All she could think about was getting home. She managed to pool her brain function enough to find and activate the tracker beacon in her rented room, the slender white line tracing out a path in front of her that she attempted to follow, one step at a time.

The feeling was overwhelming her. It was unprofessional, but she needed some time alone. If she had anything attached to relieve herself with, she likely would have lost her composure and done it right there in the station. As it was, she just moved through the station as fast as she could, shaky, desperate movements drawing stares that she was too deep in a world of need to notice or care about.

She was halfway up the stairs to exit the station when it happened again, her entire body twitching hard then going limp as she frantically grabbed a rail to avoid falling. The voice just laughed in her ear as she did. It was only three blocks to her building. She could make it.

She wasn't even up the stairs when the next one hit. They were getting faster and faster, her increased sensitivity after each making it easier to drive her over the edge for the next.

You gotta get home, okay? I need you to pick something out and fuck me for real~

Three blocks. It was three blocks.

This was the door. The white strip on the street took a sharp left through the narrow arch. She crossed the threshold, holding the doorframe for support as she climaxed again. How many times had she? Thinking about it was too hard. There was nothing in her head anymore except for that delicious whimpering that seemed to increase in intensity along with her. She just had to take the elevator up to the eighth floor and get into her room, then she could cut the signal.

The hallway looked the same as it always did. Bare. Stumbling to her door, she tried the knob. Locked. She just snapped it off. Any measure or restriction of her own strength was gone. The door swung open.

Something was wrong. Her brain was getting sluggish, but she retained enough evidence to realize this wasn't her room. The sand-brown walls she should have seen were dark and lit with purple LEDs, and the furniture was all arranged wrong. Soft jazz was playing.

She had a sudden break of clarity, and felt cold all of a sudden as the figure sitting in the back of the room, lit from behind by a computer monitor, pulled the toy from within herself and tossed it over. Reveria's hand instinctively shot up and caught it, the liquid on it glinting in the harsh hallway light. She checked the tracker beacon she had been following. Where she had expected reveria.home in the namespace, she saw instead DEN1ZEN. This wasn't her building.

Hi, Revi~

#monster fucker #terato #hypnosis #(kinda) #synthetic #robot #robotification #robotization #wlw nsft #exhibition #fantasy nsft #sci fi nsft

[crownmemes]

House Sentences, Vol. 5

(Sentences from House (2004-2012). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Can I ask what he's done to deserve your loyalty?"

"One day, our friendship will break, and it'll just prove your theory that relationships are conditional and you don't need human connection, or deserve it, or whatever goes on in that rat maze of your brain."

"You think I'm a bureaucrat with a badge, following some arbitrary guideline?"

"None of you are innocent. Not one of you."

"A bully's a bully. If they don't get a reaction, they'll lose interest."

"People think you have no inner censor. The fact is, you hold yourself back, because when you want to hurt, you know just where to poke a sharp stick."

"When I see people with their kids, it's so natural. It's like they have an instruction book imprinted on their genes. Maybe I just didn't get a copy."

"I did this to help you!"

"You need to believe that I've got a problem so that your betrayal has the illusion of nobility."

"Being different, you get used to people's idiocy."

"Only an idiot goes to prison for being stubborn!"

"We both know that my pride far surpasses my instinct for self-preservation."

"Normal's not normal if you're not normal."

"You could throw a dart at all the adjectives between arrogant and unhinged and I'm sure you'd hit one that describes me."

"I live in pain. Pain that on good days is merely intolerable and on bad ones will suck the life-force right out of you."

"You're not my mom! You don't have to keep checking up on me!"

"You find fault in everybody because you're afraid to look at yourself."

"You ever trust an addict? You ever give one the benefit of the doubt? How many times did it work out for you?"

"People like you, even your actions lie."

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

"Does your voice always get that high and annoying when you're angry?"

"How can I help you this beautiful morning?"

"You owe me. I kept you out of jail; I can put you back."

"When you entered, I noted your shirt hadn't been pressed; you hadn't shaved in quite some time. I extrapolated you were a person for whom detail is not a major concern."

"You cannot make the uninteresting interesting."

"Why are you wearing perfume?"

"Is this a real case, or one of those imaginary cases that happen when you’re bored?"

"I'll get better. I always get better."

"Stop looking at my ass when you think I'm not looking!"

"Do you put all your patients through this many tests, or just the important ones?"

"I take it you two aren't sleeping together anymore?"

"I didn't realise you were going to get hurt. I'm sorry I misled you."

"No! I’m not getting sucked into the vortex of your insanity again!"

"That’s such a bad idea! There’s no way that won’t cause damage to the large intestine!"

"Are you keeping us here just to torture me?"

"The only difference between me and you is that I made some bad decisions, and you made some good ones."

"I don't like you. Never have, never will."

"I'm not breaking into somebody's house! I have principles!"

"Tone it down or I will hit you."

"I thought this was going to be fun. I mess with you, you mess with me - eventually, you give in. But you've shown a startling lack of humour."

"I approve of your shamelessness."

"Your hair makes you look like a hooker."

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #specific; #medical drama; #filmtv; #House;

[gintrinsic-writing]

For You

@st-hedge always creates great art but this evening I saw this picture and had to write something for it. hopefully they don't mind i gave it an lu twist for angst (please dm me if that IS an issue)

--

“They call it the Downfall Timeline,” his husband murmured, features highlighted in resplendent bronze from the sunlight streaming across the balcony. “Those two exist only because of tragedy.”

Link threaded their fingers together. The backs of their hands shined with destiny’s humbling curse. “A tragedy not your doing.”

His husband sighed. Funny, that such a soft sound should come from such a fierce man. “Perhaps. Still, I cannot deny that my soul harbors—”

“We’ve been over this,” Link interrupted. He used his free hand to gently tilt his husband’s face toward him. “You are responsible only for yourself. You cannot control what happened in the past, or in other timelines; only what you choose to do with your life.”

“I want to believe you, I always do. But still, there are times…” His husband trailed off, ashamed to admit what they both already knew to be true. 

“It’s alluring, isn’t it?” Link asked knowingly. “That kind of power, just waiting to be picked up? Hells, even darkness has a draw.”

His husband kissed him on the forehead, then the cheek. “Like you’d know.”

Link smiled, then flicked his husband over the heart. “I really do,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Finally, Link got what he wanted; his husband threw his head back and laughed. The world was richer for it. “That’s because you’re some wretched deviant,” his husband teased. “You’re not supposed to—”

“Wretched?” Link interrupted again with a huff, fakely affronted. “You think I’m wretched?”

“I notice you don’t deny your deviancy.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.” Link poked at his husband’s upper lip, amused by the large canine tooth this revealed. “But I'd argue I have impeccable taste. I’m basically an artist.”

His husband snorted loudly. “If the world depended upon your ability to draw a recognizable stick figure, we’d all be doomed.”

“That’s the rudest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Link didn’t bother hiding his grin, but his amusement faded altogether when his husband once again glanced at the street below. The Downfall Duo met up with a larger group; nine heroes in total, just like the rumors had warned. They didn’t look like much, but that meant nothing when the goddesses were involved.

“Practically children,” his husband murmured, “yet still they frighten me.” 

“Forget them. They’re not here for us.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Gan,” Link said, taking his husband’s face in both hands. “There’s nothing to fear. We turned our backs on that cycle long ago.”

His husband shook his head. “I doubt they’d agree. They’ll sense me soon enough—sense us. The Triforce will see to it.”

Link shrugged. “So what? Let them come. They’ll see for themselves the life we’ve made, how wonderful it is.”

The sun dipped below the rooftops. His husband’s eyes emitted a faint glow when he tilted his head. “And if they decide I’m a threat anyway?”

Link pressed his lips together and hummed, tangling his fingers in his husband’s long red hair. “If it comes to that, I suppose I’ll have to kill them.”

His husband shook his head slowly. “You’d kill Farore’s blessed, your own spiritual kin?”

Link leaned in, his breath ghosting against his husband’s lips. “For you? I’d do terrible, terrible things.”

And Ganondorf could only chuckle as he swept Link up and slotted their mouths together. Everything fell into place as it always did when he had Link like this. “Pray it doesn’t come to that,” he murmured at last, fighting the chill that destiny held over their shoulders. 

“They better,” Link told him.

#fanart fic #lu fic #in a very vague sort of way #loz #loz fic #gintrinsic writing #ganlink #ganondorf

[lieslab]

Honey Bun

Summary: Han comes home doubting his song writing abilities. It’s up to you to set the record straight. 

Word Count: 1,300

Genre: Tooth-rotting fluff, especially towards the end 

Read the last post: 🫶

_ _ _ 

You let out an annoyed groan as you once again lost another level of your favorite game on your phone. You had flopped down on your bed and you had been laying there for the past twenty minutes. Your eyes strained as you kept them glued to the screen. Over and over again, you couldn’t stop playing the game. 

Your boyfriend, Han, was supposed to be home soon. You were just killing time until he got there. Usually, he tried to text you when he could while he was at the studio. Today, your phone remained silent. It hadn’t buzzed with any new text messages. You had even texted him a few times hoping that he’d respond, but he never did. 

You got home early before him, you always did. Today was no different. You tried to text him earlier and ask what he wanted for dinner, but since he hadn’t responded, you hadn’t bothered making anything. It was incredibly rare for Han to have days like this. He loved being so clingy with you. Usually when you didn’t respond within an hour, he’d begin to spam your phone with texts and selfies of himself. 

All of them, you kept in a folder on your phone. Finally fed up with your game, you clicked out of it and went to the folder that you kept of him. Han with his lips poked out with duck lips. Han with his tongue sticking out. There was one of him and Felix pretending to pick each other’s noses. Seeing it made you chuckle. 

You paused your scrolling when you heard the front door open up. Wasting no time, you sat up on the large bed that the two of you shared. His footsteps came closer to the bedroom door. When he opened the door, that’s when he spotted you. 

You with your glittering eyes and your bright smile. You let out a meek “hi” and that’s all it took. He kicked off his shoes and headed towards you. His lips were down-turned. Brows pressed together as if something were bothering him. He crawled up onto the bed and collapsed into your chest. 

You were warm and you smelled like you. He buried his head further into your chest and made you giggle. “What are you doing?” You asked. Your hands instantly found home in his chestnut hair. “Did my baby have a bad day?” You cooed. 

He didn’t respond, but he nodded into your chest. 

“Oh, you poor thing, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” 

He muttered something. His voice vibrated against your chest. You gently rubbed the soft pads of your fingers against his scalp. “I can’t hear you when you’re lying on my chest.” 

He let out a sigh and tilted his head so he faced the door. One of his cheeks was pressed into your body. His ear was up near your heart, so he could easily hear your soothing heartbeat. At the sound of it, he felt himself slowly begin to relax. As you continued rubbing his scalp, his tension seemed to ease. 

“I just don’t know if I’m doing enough. I keep having all these doubts about a lot of things. My anxiety is bad and I just keep assuming the worst. I showed a new song to Chan and Changbin today and I was so proud of it, but I’m not sure if they liked it. It completely destroyed my mood.” 

You frowned. 3Racha had always had a great relationship. The three of them were always pushing each other and bouncing new ideas off one another. The story didn’t seem right. You couldn’t imagine the two of them purposefully telling Han that his song was bad.

“Did they say something about it?” 

“No, but they just gave me this weird look.” 

“Did you ask them why they did that?” 

“No, I glanced down at my phone and used the excuse that you were calling me. I’ve been trying to avoid them since then. I can’t believe I thought it was good. I feel so mortified.” 

“So you just assumed it was something bad?” 

“Yes, why else would they act like that? They just froze as they heard my recording and looked at each other. I left in the middle of it. I feel like a piece of shit.” 

“Is the song about someone?” 

“It’s about you,” he mumbled. “I tried to write about you and the love I feel for you, but clearly I failed.” 

You grabbed your phone from beside you and scrolled through your first few contacts until you got to Chan’s number. When you got there, you instantly pressed the call button and waited a few moments while your phone rang. 

“What are you do-” 

“Shush.” You cut Han off and continued waiting for Chan to pick up the phone. You quickly placed the phone on speaker phone as the dial tone kept going. 

“Hello?” Chan asked. 

“Hi, Chan!” You began rubbing the top of Han’s head with your hand again. He seemed to relax once more. “Did you get a chance to listen to the new song that Han wrote? He showed it to me this morning and I just wanted to know if you listened to it yet.” 

“Yeah, Changbin and I actually got to listen to it earlier. We really liked it! The two of us were shocked when it started playing. Unfortunately, he left the room because you called him. We never got the chance to tell him before we went home. I hope we can tell him how much we liked it tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I hope you can too. I wanted to know your opinion on it because I thought it was good, but I’m not a producer or anything.”

Chan let out a laugh on the other side of the phone. “Yeah, I think it’s pretty incredible. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s about you. He really loves you, you know?” 

“Yeah and I really love him. Sorry for bothering you, I was snoopy and I just wanted to know your opinion.” 

“No problem. Tell him I said hi. Have a good night!” 

“You too, bye.” 

You ended the call and tossed your phone to the side. “Was that the answer you were looking for?” 

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

“Well, you’re the love of my life, of course I’d do things like that for you. You’re my honey bun and apparently an incredible lyricist.” 

“Honey bun?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, my honey bun. You know, like the apple of my eye, sweetie pie, sugar, whatever.” 

“Are you going to eat me?” 

“Um…no? I am hungry, so maybe that’s why I’m thinking of food. Do you want to order take out? We can eat it on the couch and afterwards we can do face masks. If you don’t want to put one on, I can do it for you since you’ve had a long day assuming the worst.” 

He lifted his head off your chest and looked into your eyes, “you’re incredible.” 

“And you’re a simp. Back to the food, would you like pizza or something else? We could do Chinese food or maybe Mexican or-” 

As you continued on, all he could do was watch you with a look of admiration. You truly were the love of his life. He had felt so much better since you called and talked to Chan. You hadn’t even told Chan that he had been the main reason for calling. You completely took the blame yourself. 

“Honey bun?” 

He blinked his eyes and snapped back into reality. “Hm?” 

“What do you want to eat?” 

“You.” 

“What?” 

And before you could get out another word, his lips met yours in a sugary sweet kiss. 

Read the next drabble: 🤎

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids drabbles #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fluff #han jisung fic #han jisung stray kids

[juniper-sunny]

A Knight to Remember - Part 2

Medieval AU | Knight!Silco | Silco x Female!Reader | No (Y/N) | Romance | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff || SFW | WC: 7.56k | art by @designfailure56 (full piece here) | betas: @deny-the-issue @silcoitus <3

ao3 || Part 1

Your repeated efforts to bond with your new knight are slowly but surely rewarded…

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @ilikemymendarkandfictional @ursawastricked @quirkykaty @let-the-monster-out @ariaud

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Winter snow buried the meadow like thick furs draped over a soft bed. You felt the loss of the colorful wildflowers quite keenly, but the blank canvas of frost provided its own amusements.

The knight had never seen snow before. Despite your best efforts, he did not take to the cold well. He refused to join you in frolicking or making snow angels and only looked on in annoyance when you lobbed a snowball in his direction. He would blink furiously when a snowflake landed on his good eye and endlessly brush the falling snow from his styled hair until he started wearing his hood up, pulled low over his brow. As graceful as he was, he did trip once and fall, surprised that the snow cushioned his fall like a pillow— an icy cold and wet pillow.

The nostalgia for your younger days was potent. As children, you and your brother were allowed to freely play in the snow. All too soon, the behavior was deemed unseemly for the offspring of your lord father. It was an impulse you had not yet grown out of. After years of solitary excursions, you had forgotten how much you enjoyed having a playtime companion, even a reluctant one.

But the knight never complained, remaining as close to you as always. If you were not the daughter of his lord, there was no doubt he would have voiced his displeasure in many colorful words. As it were, you suspected he held his tongue not for your sake but your father’s. You paid the knight extra silver whenever he indulged your whimsy and made sure the kitchens supplied him generously with hot broth for his supper.

Still, the arrival of spring was more than welcome. The snowmelt was slow, the ground churning with slush and mud under your feet. Weak rays of the sun returned, piercing through the clouds as a soft caress on earth and skin. Then breezes blew in with gentle, refreshing warmth. The trees were no longer naked but dotted with little green buds, promising to grow into full leaves. You no longer trudged through piles of snow. Small piles of unmelted frost no larger than a puddle remained, none of them large enough to mischievously shove the knight into.

At the beginning of the season, the wildflowers were asleep. Nothing poked out of the dirt yet except for short grass. And yet you visited the meadow as often as you could, hoping to see the vibrant blooms once again.

The unexpected discovery was immediately visible.

From a distance, the thing was round, small, and white. At first, you thought it was another lump of snow. You paid it no mind and made to sit at your favorite spot, but the knight stepped in front of you, an arm raised in caution.

“What is it—”

The knight hushed you, turning to raise a long finger to his lips.

He stepped forward cautiously, raising and lowering his feet with the utmost care so that his steps might not be heard.

His hand drifted slowly but purposefully towards his sword, grip wrapping slowly around the hilt. Unsheathing it deliberately so that the noise was low.

At last he brought his sword to a draw. You followed him, unconsciously mirroring his pace.

You both took another step forward and then the shape sprung up. Or it tried to, before collapsing onto the ground again. 

It was a tiny wolf pup, white on its chest and grey on its back and head. Black eyes and a small nose stood out on its soft face. The breeze ruffled its short fur, no doubt fuzzy to the touch if only you could pet it. It had not yet grown into its overly large paws, sized like apples at the end of thin sticks. Pointed ears lay flat against the back of its head as it regarded you and the knight with wariness and fear. When it yelped and growled, it was too high-pitched and juvenile to be anything except adorable.

The knight seemed to feel differently. He walked more confidently and quickly forward, raising his sword to swing.

“Stop!!” you cried out when you realized his intent. “Lower your sword!”

He did but did not sheath it. When you stomped over to him, he pointed at the pup. There was a wound on a leg that you had not noticed before. The smears of dried blood on the creature’s fur obscured its severity, but the pup whined in pain and licked furiously at it. Such was its distress that it ignored the threat of the sword to tend to its own hurt. But it explained why the wild animal did not flee at the sight of humans.

“The injury is grievous. It is unlikely the pup will live to see the end of the day,” the knight said in a detached manner. “It would be a kinder mercy to give it a swift death.”

“That is not for you to decide,” you said furiously. You had already paid the knight his silver, but you shoved your whole purse in his face. “Run to the nearest alehouse and buy four legs of chicken. Return here as soon as you can. Quickly now!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but your resoluteness left no room for debate. After he left, you backed away several paces. The creature needed space, but you still wanted to keep an eye on it. You slowly went down on your knees, lowering yourself gradually to not startle the creature. Its gaze followed you, watching you close should you lunge forward. You slouched as soon as you were able to sit. Hopefully, you were small enough that the creature would know not to fear you.

Its eyes never left you. It cocked its head at an angle, appraising you curiously. You turned your gaze away from its face, watching its paws instead. To meet its eyes would mean you were challenging it as a larger, fiercer predator.

Despite your command, the knight’s absence felt like it lasted an eternity. He was gone long enough that the pup finally lost interest in you and resumed cleaning itself. You let yourself glance at it. It was too cute and strongly resembled the pet dogs you had seen running around town.

Finally, the knight returned with a wooden plate in hand. It was stacked high with chicken legs, freshly cooked and steaming with heat. You gestured for the knight to sit next to you, and he did so with his legs crossed. In your haste, you burned your hand on the hot food. Swearing under your breath, you pulled your sleeve down as far as you could over your fingertips. It was not much use and you were forced to wait.

The pup returned the force of its full attention to you. Its nose twitched as it sniffed furiously, and it tried to stand on all four legs. The endeavor was clearly painful as it rose unsteadily, whimpering all the while. It only managed to wobble in place before it collapsed.

You touched the chicken again. It had cooled off enough that you could rip chunks of meat off. After shredding a decent amount of chicken, you took careful aim, closing one eye to gauge the distance between you and the animal. Your first throw was too long; the pup followed the trajectory of the thrown meat intently, lifting and turning its whole head when the food landed behind it. The next throw was much too accurate as it hit the pup square on the nose. It blinked and yelped again, but its consternation was soon forgotten as it sniffed and ate the offering, eyes wide with happy surprise.

You smiled at your victory. More food was tossed at the animal, and in its eagerness to eat it attempted to leap into the air. As the pup’s delight grew, so did the knight’s disapproval. His lips thinned and a notch between his brow deepened as it often did when he looked at something he disliked.

“You may speak freely, sir knight,” you said without looking at him.

He frowned, the scar on his upper lip pulling into a longer cut. “You are wasting good meat.”

“If you are so worried about the loss of food, you may have some for yourself,” you retorted. “And I would thank you to remember that you did not pay with your own silver.”

“The pup will not survive even with your help.”

“And yet I refuse to withhold my help from those who need it,” you said. His words were maddening, but you needed to focus on shredding another chicken leg. The action helped hide how your hands were shaking with anger. If you were not concerned with scaring the pup you would have rounded on the knight. “Why did you save my mother?”

His expression of surprise mirrored the pup’s, brows raising and good eye widening into a teal lake.

“Surely it would have been a ‘kinder mercy’ to let her die a swift death. And it would have been less trouble on your part to leave her to her own devices.”

“Does your mother know you speak of her this way?”

“I am not speaking of her. I am speaking of you, sir knight— and your inclination or disinclination to offer help,” you shot back at him. “Why did you come to my mother’s aid?”

He regarded you carefully, looking down his long nose at you. But for once his judgment was not turned on you. His eye was curious for your reaction as he spoke thoughtfully, “My motivations were selfish, I admit. Your mother’s carriage and retinue indicated she came from a family of wealth. I hoped to be rewarded upon her rescue.”

“Was escorting an ealdorman’s daughter part of the reward you had in mind?” you could not help yourself from asking.

“No,” he smirked. “But your father’s hospitality and silver are very generous rewards indeed.”

“And there you have it. If we let nature determine our fates then you would have me let the good people— and animals— on my father’s land starve, all for the misfortune of not being born into wealth,” you said firmly. “I would not let that happen while I am still able to offer help.”

“Help in the form of your father’s silver,” he commented dryly. Leaving unspoken his distaste for the privilege you were born into. He had never spoken of it out loud, but hearing of his formerly impoverished lifestyle made you self-conscious at times.

“It is as much part of his responsibilities as it is mine to see to their needs.”

“So you are motivated solely by a sense of duty?”

“Partly,” you admitted. “But perhaps there would be more good in the world if more people felt it was their duty to be kind.”

He stared at you now, an incisive glint in his eye as sharp as the day you first met. You turned away from it, uncomfortable goosebumps rising on your neck. The third chicken leg was ready to be shredded, so you turned your focus on that. Ripping the meat apart with more concentration than was necessary.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the last of the food. It had cooled off considerably, and he grabbed the last chicken leg. He looked it over before biting into it. It seemed as if he claimed it for himself, but he spat out the morsel and tossed it to the wolf. It yelped in joy as it darted between the food you and the knight threw, too greedy and confused to know which bits to eat first.

“The morsels you are shredding are too large, my lady,” the knight said.

“And yet the animal does not seem to mind,” you smiled at him, grateful for his help.

You were loath to leave the pup behind. Its eyes were watchful as you and the knight departed the field, bare chicken bones left behind on the plate. Your feet followed the path home as if they had a will of their own, such was your concern for the pup that you had little room in your mind for anything else. Worry plagued you for the days to come. The wait seemed an endless infinity until you finally found your next opportunity to return to the meadow.

The pup was still there, having dragged itself to the nearby bushes for shelter. It could not put its full weight on its injured leg which was still in a bad way. There was recognition in its eyes as you made another careful approach. You were able to come a little closer than before. It growled and you stopped, although the sound was more akin to a stomach rumbling than a feral warning. You sent the knight off for more chicken and played the throwing game again when he returned.

Several months passed in this manner. After each visit, the pup allowed you to come closer and closer, closing the distance by paces. Its health seemed to improve; although it did not often attempt to walk, the animal would sit up at attention at your arrival. It did not need to lie down as often and would only do so when it had finished eating. Still staring at you with wide eyes, slow blinking as it fought the temptation to slumber in your presence. Its appetite grew as well. Soon, four chicken legs were not enough to satisfy it, as it would stare at you expectantly once you had given it everything, licking its lips in anticipation of more. The knight did pause when you asked him how much more you should buy.

“We have fed it enough, my lady. Surely we may cease feeding it,” he said. “If it should grow dependent on us then it may not learn to hunt properly.”

“It has not yet died from starvation or thirst,” you pointed out. “Perhaps it has been hunting on its own during our absences.”

“If this pup were a child, we would be indulging its laziness. It would grow into an adult with no ability to work. The aid we have already provided is more than adequate.”

His statement annoyed you, as he so often did when he disagreed with you. But you took satisfaction in his use of the word “we”. He had seemingly come around to your way of thinking even if he never admitted it out loud.

You were about to protest when the pup stood up. It limped forward cautiously. When you first arrived, you and the knight sat a fair distance away, far enough to place a long feasting table in the space between. The pup tried to cross that distance now, weighing heavily on three feet before quickly hopping on the fourth injured leg. Its gait was unsteady but its gaze was focused on you. 

The knight leapt to his feet and took a stance in front of you, putting himself between you and the animal. Clearly intent on protecting you from its approach. You had forbidden him from drawing his sword on the creature, so instead he reached out to grab it by the scruff of its neck. As his hand neared the animal, it looked up, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

Before the knight could react, the pup’s pink tongue darted out, licking the chicken grease off his hand. The animal’s eyes widened, shining with concentration as its tongue thoroughly enveloped each of the knight’s fingers in turn, engrossed in polishing off what little was left of its earlier meal. He froze in place and his stunned reaction allowed the animal to keep licking away with abandon. When it finished, it licked its lips and nose, finally satisfied that the knight’s hand was clean.

All the while, you had to suppress your laughter, clutching your sides as you heaved with silent mirth. The pup shared in your good mood and smiled at the knight, tongue hanging flappy with a great wide smile. It whined sulkily when he remained frozen. Pushing its tiny head into the knight’s palm was not enough to solicit pets, no matter how earnestly it rubbed itself against his hand. Finally, it rolled onto its back, paws flopping charmingly in the air.

The knight stood in confusion. Your giggles subsided enough to tell him, “Do indulge the creature, sir knight. It means you no ill will.”

“What does it want?” he asked, an alarmed tinge to his question.

“Have you ever played with a dog before?”

“No.”

“When a dog shows you its belly, it is a sign of submission. They are showing you their vulnerability as a way of demonstrating their trust in you. I imagine the same applies to wolves,” you added thoughtfully.

He still made no effort to move.

“It’s a show of goodwill, sir knight,” you continued. “You may demonstrate the same by obliging the creature.”

“How?”

“By petting it, of course,” you smiled at him, although with his back to you he had no way of seeing it.

You might as well have asked him to die in battle for you. He was still, no doubt some internal conflict playing out in his mind. It was easy to imagine the knight’s expression of consternation: good eye wide and brows high, his mouth fallen open to reveal the charming little gap in between his two front teeth. The thought almost made you giggle again, so you cleared your throat before stating authoritatively, “Sir knight, I order you to pet the animal. I promise you will enjoy it.”

The order seemed to turn his surprise into exasperation. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh that you noticed only because you were keen to observe what he would do next. The knight obediently sank to his knees, still slow with caution. You craned your neck to watch him place his hand on the animal’s stomach, fingertips first, before smoothing his fingers into its coat, letting his palm rest fully. Then he rubbed slowly, up and down movements ruffling the fur. He did not say anything further but you could tell he was enjoying himself, as he allowed his normally uptight posture to slouch, shoulders lowering in relaxation. Loud and happy panting from the animal filled the air. It was a point of envy that the pup warmed up to the knight first, what with the knight’s reluctance to get involved during the initial encounter. Still, it pleased you to see wonder on his face, the end of his lip twitching upward as if he was fighting the urge to smile.

You were always reluctant to return home after these outings, and for once the knight seemed to share in that unwillingness. He was always the one reminding you that the end of prayers was drawing near. This time, you were the one to let him know it was time to leave. His departure was slow, and as he made to follow behind you he cast one last look over his shoulder. As tempting as it was to tease him for his newfound attachment to the animal, you instead discussed with him how to further aid the pup’s recovery. Now that it readily accepted his touch, perhaps you could administer medical attention. The discussion was cut short when you rejoined your other attendants outside the church.

On your next trip, the knight brought a roll of bandages with him, hidden inside his pockets. Unfortunately, it had been too optimistic to hope that you could help with the pup’s injury so soon. The high-pitched yelps it unleashed when the knight grazed its injured leg were pained, and it once again growled with all the ferocity of a little beast. The knight was quick to withdraw his hands.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sighed. It was hard to watch its suffering and be powerless to help.

“It’s alright, my lady,” the knight said encouragingly. “It will make a full recovery in time. Our aid has guaranteed it.”

You glanced at him. He met your eyes, and his expression spoke of unshakeable confidence. So strange to see this change from his distant indifference to the warm reassurance he was offering you now. The simple acknowledgment of your shared endeavor made you blush and look away. Luckily, the pup had begun licking its leg vigorously and made itself a convenient target for your gaze. You breathed deeply to calm your heart, a sudden anxiety making it jump erratically in your chest.

“What a brave pup to endure such an injury, all alone with no family in the world,” you said wistfully. A thought rested on the tip of your tongue, one that you were suddenly afraid that the knight would object to. But why did his opinion matter to you? As your knight, he would be obedient to your whims no matter how he felt about them. You pushed down your concern and spoke, “If you should go through the world alone, at least you need not be nameless, little one.”

As if it knew you were speaking to it, the pup stopped licking and looked straight at you, staring intensely. You cleared your throat and spoke softly, “You were not born a lion, but you share its courage and its heart. Leo shall be your name.”

The speech was less silly in your head. Now that it had been spoken aloud, it sounded downright ridiculous. What if the pup would not respond to the name? Did the knight think you were too childish or pompous? He did let out a noise of amusement through his nose, not a snort but a low exhale. He was too dignified to snort.

In your embarrassment you wanted to snap at him, but he spoke first. “It is a good name, my lady.”

His validation cheered you. You turned to smile at him, and he returned it with one of his own, both ends of his lips lilting lightly upwards. Not a slanted smirk that showed amusement at your expense. It brought a handsomeness to his face that you never noticed before. A loud, happy bark from Leo drew your knight’s attention, and you were glad for him to look away before he saw how your blush deepened. 

As if receiving a name had spurred its recovery, Leo was able to walk slowly but steadily towards the edge of the meadow, looking to rest under a bush. You and your knight departed in the opposite direction. Today, your sense of revelry was not just in Leo’s improved recovery but also your knight’s first sincere smile at you, although you only discussed the former with him. It saddened you to rejoin your entourage, as it meant the end of your private time with the knight. At least you could look forward to your next outing in the future.

On your way back to your father’s hall, the blacksmith Talis hailed you. You greeted him politely as he approached. It was a warm summer’s day and he was shirtless, gleaming with sweat and smeared with grime. Evidence of a long day’s labor at the forge.

“Milady,” he grinned as he took one of your hands in both of his, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Are you and your parents well?”

“We are, thank you,” you said. “I shall let them know you inquired after them. Are you in good health?”

“I am, thank you. Your lady mother’s birthday approaches, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“No, not for several more months.”

“Then I will have her gift ready for her by then,” he beamed at you. “Good day.”

“Good day, Talis.”

If you had remained in the hot forge, you would have sworn that was the reason for your discomfort; being near such blazing heat in the summertime was nigh unbearable. However, as you made your way back into town the distress persisted. What could be the cause? You turned to ask your ladies-in-waiting some idle question, hoping to determine if anyone else felt ill at ease. All seemed well with everyone else— except your knight. All warmth had drained from his being, his posture straightened to the point of near stiffness, a scowl on his lips and a notch between his furrowed brows.

More often than not, your knight’s usual demeanor was less than pleasant. But to see his previously good mood suddenly ruined caused you no small amount of worry. The rest of the day was agonizingly long and you were overly distracted, unable to put your apprehension to rest until you met privately with your knight, in the evening as he escorted you to the staircase leading to your chambers.

“Are you well, sir knight?”

“Why does the blacksmith act so familiar with you?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“Oh—” what a bizarre inquiry. It caught you so off guard, you laughed in puzzlement. “His family has served this town for generations. Talis is friendly with all who employ his services.”

“That is all he is to you? Someone your family employs?”

“Yes,” this conversation was becoming more and more strange—

“You have no interest in him beyond that?”

“No.”

“Would he say the same about you?”

“I don’t see why not. He is married, after all.”

“Is he now?” your knight raised an eyebrow at the information. “It is a strange custom here. Do all married men kiss the hands of women they have no interest in? And offer gifts to their mothers?”

“He seeks to curry favor with the ealdorman’s family, nothing more and nothing less,” you said, more bewildered than ever. To turn the tables on him, you asked teasingly, “And what about yourself, sir knight? You have lived here nearly a year now— have you met anyone of interest yet?”

For a man with a singular eye, the knight’s gaze could become extremely penetrative when he wanted it to be. It paralyzed you. Just as suddenly as it began, the interrogation was over. He bid you goodnight, leaving you to stand on the stairs alone.

The whole conversation was too peculiar to dismiss. You paced your room endlessly, repeatedly brushing your hair and remaking your bed, stopping one activity only to return to the other mindlessly. What was the purpose of the knight’s questions? Why did it feel like he did not believe your answers? Why did that possibility fill you with a sense of defensiveness? You had done nothing wrong— so why did you get the impression that your knight felt otherwise?

You stared at yourself in your mirror and shook your head. You had unintentionally made the knight into your confidante when he insisted on accompanying you on your secret outings. And it was only natural to feel a sense of camaraderie with someone you spent so much private time with. It was a mistake to assume that closeness would grow into friendship. His obligations to you began and ended with your commands and your father’s.

Perhaps he wished for your relationship to remain professional, and nothing more. After all, he had quite the withdrawn manner when he first came into your service. Was his tolerance of you solely based on staying in your father’s good graces? There had been others who sought out your friendship merely to use you as a means to an end, without any interest in forming a genuine bond with you. The knight would not be the first nor the last.

You ought to limit your interactions with him. Just as you resolved to do so, a tiny feeling of sinking disappointment settled in your chest, churning into an unpleasant sourness in the pit of your stomach. Was it so wrong to enjoy the knight’s company?

What if he found no enjoyment in your company? That notion was outrightly painful, a stinging little hurt in your heart. Your hand rose unconsciously to your chest, rubbing in circles to soothe yourself.

Well, he would think it strange if your visits to Leo ceased in such an abrupt manner. You would visit the pup for as long as it accepted your presence. Then you would stop sneaking out altogether, or at least find another way to leave the knight behind entirely.

The air in your room felt cold despite the warmth of the late summer.

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Was it your imagination or was the knight’s morning greeting to you even icier than usual? He had a habit of speaking only when spoken to, but his answers seemed even more taciturn, opting only to nod, shake his head, or hum in acknowledgment. If you did not know better you would have wondered if he had lost the capacity for words entirely.

At least Leo did not need words to express joy at your arrival. He was waiting at the edge of the meadow for you today and barked, tail wagging excitedly. His acceptance of you had progressed to the point where he allowed you to pet him. The wolf was so jubilant that he raised his forelegs and batted you on your shoulders, almost knocking you off your feet.

Delighted, you leaned in to hug him. How had Leo’s growth escaped your notice? The wolf may have still been a pup, but only in age and not in size. His body exceeded the length of your torso, his head towering above yours when you sat on your knees. Your arms did not meet when they wrapped around him. His fur was no longer soft and thin, but now rough and thick underneath your hands. You laughed as he licked your face, his wet tongue and hot breath on your cheek. What a miraculous development! 

You glanced surreptitiously at the knight. He made no move to separate the two of you. Perhaps he had finally grown to trust that Leo truly meant no harm.

However, the wolf had not quite recovered fully. He had the bad habit of periodically reopening his wound during his sporadic moments of self-grooming. The wound’s severity was never quite as grave as the first day you met. However, the wolf would never heal properly if his self-sabotage was not prevented. Being able to hug Leo safely was a good sign that he would let you bandage him.

When you met the knight’s eyes again, there was understanding on his face. Despite whatever grudge he held against you, it was a relief to know that he would continue his involvement in your plans to help Leo. You wordlessly held out your hand for the roll of bandages just as the knight pulled it out of his pocket. After scratching Leo underneath his chin, you stood up and backed away to give the knight plenty of room.

You had instructed the knight how to restrain a hound, a method that you had learned from your brother. However, today would be the first time that the knight would put this practice into action. You watched with bated breath as the knight knelt next to Leo, patting the wolf’s back. He pressed gently on Leo’s shoulders, encouraging him to lie down. The wolf rested on the ground, staring off into the distance and panting happily, seemingly content just to have the two of you nearby. Then the knight leaned over the wolf, tucking the animal under his arm and grasping its chest with his hand. It was imperative that the knight perform this part, as his strength was greater than yours and would allow him to restrain the animal. Leo was undisturbed and merely licked his lips.

The wound was on Leo’s left hind leg, a sideways cut not dissimilar to the knight’s own scarring. It was a stroke of luck that the injury only spanned the upper half of the wolf’s leg; there would be no need to wrap the entirety of the limb. You adjusted the position of the leg on the ground, highly conscious of the knight’s proximity to you.

His back was broad, long lines sloping into the straight, handsome column of his neck. You were close enough to him that you could have bumped your forehead against his shoulder. The smells of the forest did not overshadow his scent—

Leo boofed in annoyance, his foot kicking out of your grasp. His patience at being manhandled was running out. Hastily, you unrolled the bandages. The wolf whined and squirmed but the knight’s hold was strong, allowing you to wrap the wound tightly. You backed away immediately after you finished and the knight let go as well.

The wolf instantly made to lick his leg only to be confounded when his tongue met bandaging and not skin. He licked and licked and licked, unable to reach his intended target. After a minute or so he became disinterested, turning abruptly to resume staring into the air. 

Victory! You laughed in relief and exhilaration. This had been by far the riskiest endeavor of Leo’s recovery and the pair of you successfully completed it unscathed.

“Thank you,” you told the knight, beaming at him. “You did well to earn Leo’s trust. We could not have accomplished this without it.”

The knight regarded you with an unreadable expression but he nodded. “The same goes for you, my lady. Leo’s recovery is a credit to your compassion and persistence.”

“Nonsense,” you turned away from him, blushing. You scooted forward to scratch Leo behind his ears, studying the pattern of gray and black coloration on his fur. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out happily.

“It’s true, my lady,” he said simply. “Well done.”

The heat of your embarrassment burned away any words you may have used to disagree with him. Why did you choose a dress with such long sleeves and a high neckline today? It was positively oppressive in the summer season. You mumbled your thanks, pointedly staring at a spot on the wolf’s shoulder. You felt more than saw the knight sit down across from you on Leo’s other side.

(When was the last time you visited the medic? You needed to stop by at the first available opportunity. Some strange ailment had befallen you and you needed a cure: a mingling excitement and anxiety in your chest, an excessively rapid heartbeat—)

“There is no one,” the knight said.

“I beg your pardon?” you looked up at him finally. To continue avoiding his gaze when he was conversing with you would be rude.

His eye was serious, and he spoke solemnly, “To answer your previous question: I have not yet met anyone of interest.”

How strange that you felt both thrilled and dismayed by his statement. But you giggled and blurted out, “Perhaps that can be remedied. There are a number of my retainers who wish to become better acquainted with you, sir knight.” You winked at him for emphasis.

“I am aware.” Of course he was. He was too astute to not have noticed.

“And you are drawn to none of them?” you asked, surprised. “They are all good people. You need only choose your favorite— I could make proper introductions if you so wished—”

“I do not,” he said, firmly but not unkindly.

“Truly?”

He nodded. He scratched the wolf under its chin, smiling gently. Leo closed his eyes, lost in bliss.

You could not help but sigh, a heavy heart in your chest. The knight’s eye alighted on you. His examination of you this time was gentle.

 “That is quite a shame,” you said lightheartedly, or you tried to. “There will be many broken hearts among them.”

 He rolled his eye. “If they are good people then they will find love with ease.”

 “I hope so,” you said. “You all may live and love as freely as you please. If only—”

If only you could as well. You had stopped speaking, swallowing hard when a lump in your throat made it too painful to continue. As if he could sense your discomfort, Leo crawled closer to you, resting his head on your leg. His eyes were wide and doleful as he looked up at you.

“Are you betrothed?” the knight asked. His tone was casually curious.

“No,” you said, absentmindedly petting the wolf. “But perhaps it is only a matter of time. My father does intend for me to marry. If I cannot find anyone ‘worthy of our family name’, then he will choose for me.”

Even in your unhappiness, you could not help but smile at the wolf. You scratched him behind his ears, avoiding the knight’s gaze as you spoke, “I am sorry… You must think me a spoiled child… my family has more than enough silver to see me live comfortably to the end of my days, and yet I often find myself feeling caged…”

Tears welled up in your eyes. It took such an effort not to cry that you could not restrain yourself from the outpouring of complaints. “There are moments where I wish to run away when the world is too loud. And it very often becomes loud. After all, I am never allowed a moment alone except to wipe my own ass.”

The knight’s lip twitched upwards, but he continued looking at you with sympathy. “We were meant to choose our own destinies. If someone else chooses for you, then the desire to run away is only natural.”

He turned to look directly at you. His gaze was unwavering but a note of worry crept into his voice. “My lady… I have not been fully truthful with you. I wish to do so now. I cannot stop you from telling your parents, but it is my hope that you will not. You will come to understand why.

“I told you of how my brother and I lived in poverty. That was not always the case,” he said. “As orphaned babes, we were left at the church. They raised and fed us when no one else would… but they asked for too much in return. We were expected to join the clergy, to remain and serve for the rest of our days. I wanted more out of life. I asked my brother to leave with me. He was free to stay, but he chose to join me.

“The church and our community spurned us. As if wanting a life outside of monastery walls was a crime. You already know of how we lived… and my brother grew weary of it. He went back to the church and begged for their ‘forgiveness’. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. They agreed— but only if we returned together.

“I trusted him, and he betrayed me. And yet I was the unreasonable one for not wanting to rejoin the church,” he scowled darkly. 

You gripped a fist in Leo’s fur. Fury at the brother boiling inside you. “Your brother’s treachery cuts quite deeply, sir knight.”

“May you never experience the pain of betrayal, my lady,” he said. “It can break you, or forge you into something greater. But there are other ways to find strength. To become powerful enough to defy your fate. I hope to help you find it.”

What a blessing to witness so many selfless acts from your knight today. Even as he looked to you for reassurance that he had not alienated you, he still reaffirmed his loyalty.

“I am sorry you endured so much hardship, sir knight. May I say again that you deserved none of it. If there is anything I can do to lessen your pain, all you need to do is ask,” you said softly. Would that there were more words you could offer in sympathy. “I will not tell my parents if you do not wish for them to know… after all, neither of us are as devout as they would like.”

Was the joke too poorly timed? You bit your lip for your thoughtlessness. But your knight chuckled and looked at you warmly. Perhaps the worst of his pain had faded.

You dared not voice this, but you were glad for his survival. Not just because your knight deserved to live freely, but also because he somehow ended up on a path that led to you. Instead, to change the topic you asked him, “Are you happy, sir knight? It seems to me that you traded a life in service to the church for a life in service to a mortal.”

“I do not mind. This life is much more preferable. After all, I chose it for myself,” he said. “And you are a much worthier master.”

You smiled at him in thanks, but the hollow flattery of his words did not move you. His earlier compliment might not have been sincere either. It was foolish of you to forget how the knight was only pretending at kindness towards you. This reminder did not hurt any less than the first time you realized it.

It was necessary to remember it always, if only to guard your heart.

And yet you could not stop from finding happiness in the time you spent with the knight. It was too comfortable a companionship that you had yet to find anywhere else. Trusting each other with secrets you dared not share with others. Made all the more exciting by a certain irony: you were not allowed to spend time alone with any man unless you had an escort, and yet the knight seemingly did not count as a man. A loophole that made your paired outings feel more like secret trysts. No one witnessed your transgressions except for the wolf.

Now that he was bandaged, Leo’s recovery became straightforward. You and the knight changed his wrappings every time you visited him, and the wound was more improved each time you checked. No fur grew on the scar, but the skin was no longer tender and Leo no longer flinched when he was touched. You found yourself making excuses to keep attending to the wolf. His leg might still be weak in the muscle and the bandaging provided support. If the knight found your reasoning to be implausible, he did not remark on it.

Autumn passed and winter came, marking close to a whole year since you first met Leo. He had reached his full size and was now exponentially longer and heavier than you. Yet he was as playful with you as ever, clamoring to lie in your lap and disregarding how his weight crushed your legs into the ground.

A sudden change fell over him as you unwrapped his leg. He stared out into the woods, beyond the horizon. Contemplating something that was beyond your perception. The impulse to hug him overwhelmed you, but as you wrapped your arms around him he moved away, stepping out of your grasp. He stalked away easily towards the edge of the meadow where the trees grew thicker in number. It was as if he had never been injured at all.

Leo turned to look at you and the knight. His eyes were the same brilliant white as the snow on the ground. Staring at you with some unrecognizable emotion. Or perhaps he looked at you with no emotion at all. There was no sign of the pup you nursed to health; only a wild beast remained. Perhaps it was his gratitude to you that did not compel him to run away unceremoniously.

You and the knight stared back at Leo. You dared not breathe too loudly, nor run up to the wolf and pet him one last time.

Because there was the unshakeable conviction that this was the last time you would ever see Leo again.

He turned and loped into the woods, soft footfalls lightly crunching the snow underfoot.

And then he was gone forever.

It should have been a joyous occasion. He was never meant to stay with you as if he were a pet, in such close proximity to other humans who may have wished him harm. His full recovery guaranteed his survival as he rejoined the wild, as he was always meant to do.

But the world blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You sniffed and turned away from the knight, not wishing to cry in front of him. Were your parents struck by a similar sense of grief when your brother grew old enough to travel on his own? It was an irrational thought that would not leave you.

You hunched over, hands covering your face. As if that would prevent the knight from noticing your sobs. The notion that he was bound by your orders to never speak of this to anyone provided little consolation in your devastating sorrow.

The knight sat as near to you as possible. His knee almost touched yours. He moved his hand towards you but stopped just shy of touching your shoulder. He clenched it into a fist and kneaded his thigh.

“He will hunt often and well, my lady,” said the knight. “I do hope that might provide you some solace.”

It did, but not enough to stop the tears. It was many moments longer before you could catch your breath and compose yourself. The knight sat next to you the whole time, a quiet source of comfort that could not touch you but nevertheless felt like twin arms wrapping around your heart.

Part 3

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #Silco fanfic #my writing #A Knight to Remember #AKtR

[fhrlclln]

stuck upside-down | eddie munson

SUMMARY -> who knew being chased by demo bats, split from nancy and the group, and being almost lost in the upside down would ensue feelings being brought out.

eddie munson x gn! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> fluff & semi-angst

WARNINGS -> violence, gore, cussing & the upside down. mentions of self-hatred, jason carver and misunderstandings

WC -> 1,805

a/n : fluff time with a little bit of angst sprinkled in there.

likes, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

fuck. everything. fuck it. your teeth grind against each other, anger steaming inside of your head as you raced through the dark woods. well, the gang was split up. split up by those fucking flying pieces of sting-ray shit that attacked steve. you were about to explode, your fingers gripping eddie’s hand tight as he practically screamed as one almost bit him from above. you ducked, swinging one the broken boat paddle above to swat some away. you couldn’t fucking believe it, here you are, in the upside down. the woods seeming now to take a toll on you as you ran alongside eddie. who had been yelling a ton of ‘fuck offs’ with the little friends above.

“get the fuck off of me!” eddie yelled, ducking again. you swiftly turned to check on him seeing him in utter distraught, you gripped his hand tight as you looked upon the track to see the large skull rock. you sighed in relief, your legs picking a pace as you raced towards the sufficient shelter. you abruptly stopped and shoved eddie first, making him stumble forward underneath the boulder with a curse. you tossed the broken stick and shoved yourself beside eddie, seeing as the flocks of bats and their creepy noises above almost took the soul out of you. you held your breath, heart pounding, the droplets of sweat beading your forehead as nervousness took over. you panted, gulping, chest rising as the screeches slowly died over. you leaned back, still breathing heavily. you closed your eyes for a moment the rush of adrenaline flushing throughout your whole body. overwhelming the feeling of relief finally.

“jesus h. christ, i think i might throw up.” eddie panted beside you, looking at him with tired eyes his face was scrunched up in the most funny way you adored when he got mad or annoyed. his curly bangs were sticking on his forehead and his brows were furrowed, and you wondered what went wrong between the two of you. eddie suddenly met your gaze, licking his lips out of habit. the two of you stared at each other until the awkwardness set in. eddie was one of your closes friends, well technically your bestfriend is what most people deemed the two of you. you met him at the start of senior year, knowing he was held-back senior. he annoyed you most of the time, poking you with a pencil or asking you if he can copy the day’s homework. in return, you often teased him if he was going to be older than the teachers when he graduates or telling him he smelled like weed to set him in a panicked mode.

it was a sweet memory, a one you solely wanted to recur with him again. things broke down prior a week before the pep rally. it was a dispute between the two of you, one that resulted into a mess of no chatting, no more of eddie’s teasing, no smoke sesh in his van or watching him play every hellfire night. you had avoided him, in return he avoided you. you regretted it, but it was hard on your part, which was supposed to be easy. you liked him, a lot, a lot that his friendly affections would soon turned you into a frenzied mess that had you screaming in your pillow every night. you didn’t know what to do, you were an idiot to juggle the decision whether to confess or let the minor rejection sink in. you knew he didn’t like you as you liked him. dustin often teased if the two of you were dating and eddie’s constant turn-downs of the topic were a big sign that it wasn’t happening, not a chance. your constant doubts pushed you over the edge, you were scared if he might have known you liked him. and that you had a huge crush on him and everything. thinking, once he knows everything, it will be ruined with him.

“is there something on my face?” eddie suddenly spoke, breaking the ice. “if it’s batshit or what blood those creatures spilled, i’m seriously going to throw up, y/n.” he touched his face, fumbling his hair as he tried to swipe off anything those demo bats left on him. you snorted, letting out a airy laugh as you shake your head at his panic. he raised a brow, a smile now forming at his lips, enjoying your laughter ringing into his ears. “what?”

“i’m just… i mean—“ you fumbled, feeling flustered as you fiddled with your hands. you shrugged. “i just dived in, following you and here we are. in some fucked up world that’s like ours with tons of these stingrays trying to kill us. and we just talked for the first time, in a week.” you let it out, the thought of might not surviving would leave you in regret what you cannot say to him. and for the sake of your friendship, why not let it all out now.

“oh, yeah. forgot about the no talking part when you grabbed my hand and made a run for it with me.” he nodded, chuckling in embarrassment. “things are just so fucked up, ain’t it?” his head thumps against the cold surface, hands on his side as he let out a sigh, shaking his head.

“totally.” you quietly agreed, knowing what he was feeling. he looked at you, with a look of sadness creeping on his face. his eyes were glassy, a hurt that made your heart squeeze again.

“first, you ignored me for a whole week. i watched chrissy fucking die while i was dealing with her. i’m being hunted by jason fucking carver then i watch patrick die. not to mention, now i’m a supposed serial killer in hawkins and here we are. so yeah, totally. everything’s gone to shit.” eddie laughed, no amusement in it. you sat still, silent seeing as he rubbed his face. “you know, i think this is just some sick game for being hawkin’s freak, huh? cheers to me being a fucking freakshow.”

“you’re not a freak.” you interrupted him, eyes hard on him, mad at the fact that he thinks all that’s happening is because of him. “i’m serious, eddie.”

he scoffed, not buying your words. “gee, thanks. and here i thought you finally realized hanging out with me would do you no good—“

“i wasn’t ignoring because of that shit, okay?” you interrupted him, your voice hurt and anger slowly lacing over your tone. you couldn’t blame him for lashing out now. “it wasn’t like that.”

“then why is it, huh?” eddie sat up straight, moving his whole body towards you. his nostrils flared as he tried to keep his composure. “why now? what happened between the two of us? what happened to you?” he demanded. you were hesitant, trying to think of your words carefully. the burn of his anger on you had you feeling like a total dickhead right now. in better circumstances, you wished you would have just had talked to him. screw it. you swallowed heavily, your dirty hands clenched into fists as you spat it out.

“it was all on me. and i-i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t mean for anything of what happened last week to get to this p-point. i was just… i mean—“ the doubts in your mind yelled again. your voice constricted, your emotions running high as fear took over. his brown eyes dug holes to your face, you felt ashamed as you wiped your sweaty forehead, briefly glancing to him to see his reaction. “i was scared.” you whispered the last part.

eddie’s face turned instantly, the anger slowly sizzling down hearing your confusing confession. scared of what? he thought as you were still not looking at him. “y/n.” he called you out softly. “look at me.” he observed you for a minute, your eyes were sunken and your lips were in a frown. you were trying to hold in every bottled emotion you had stored hearing his comforting voice. “please. tell me what’s wrong.” he begged, feeling the sting of hurt of whatever caused you to feel like this and avoid him. “scared of what? me because of jason o-or—?”

“scared because i—“ fuck. you were really going to say it. you looked at him seeing his awaiting look. “i was starting to feel things for you. i-i chickened out because i was scared you’d noticed— and you don’t have to say anything now. it’ll pass but it was a stupid move for avoiding you. i’m sorry edd—“

“you l-like me?” your heart almost stopped, you glanced at him to meet his eyes, seeing those wide orbs that were full of genuine surprise. eddie felt his whole world turning, you like him. the heat of your cheeks caused you to fumble as he started to move closer to you. you were frozen, not knowing what to do or say. maybe kiss him or what. “tell me again, please.” you hadn’t realize how close he gotten until your hands were on his chest and his nose brushing against yours. he was waiting, eager for you to say it again for him.

you sucked in a tiny breath, whispering. “i like you, eddie.” his lips crashed to yours, your hands clenched on his denim vest for leverage as you kissed him back, not caring if the demobats or who came running in with murderous intent. your nerves tingled with glee liking the way he kissed you, the way you had fantasized him doing this for so long that it almost made your heart leap out of your chest. eddie’s hands were on your waist as he slowly stood on his knees, lips still locked on yours, desperate to keep you close to him as you started to fall back on the ground. hands now roaming up to his face, cupping his cheek as you got your answer. you smiled between his lips as he towered before you, the ground a bit damp on your back but it didn’t matter at all.

“aww. that’s so sweet. when that’s going to happen to you, steve?” robin’s voice made the two of you jolt away from each other. you immediately turned to see robin waving with a big smile on her face and nancy who’s back was turned, a little flustered seeing the two of you devouring each other and steve, who’s arms were crossed. again. looking a little tired. eddie waved at them awkwardly, briefly glancing at you, hoping once the two of you got out of here he was going go make it up for the lost time, grinning at the thought as the others started coming in for cover hearing the flock of those flying shits pass by again.

well, at least you got your answer.

i like to torture steve in my fics ig XD

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4 #fnhrlcllnwrites

[hallow-witxh]

Mind-Clearing Grapefruit Marmalade

Grapefruit is a cleansing, purifying fruit. It can help cleanse the mind of doubt and negativity while helping keep your thoughts pure and focused.

As someone who actually loves marmalade, I created a very simple marmalade recipe that needs only one grapefruit and a bit of sugar. This recipe can help cleanse your mind while both cooking and eating it. You can add whatever other favors you want to it (lemon would be great, as it has energetic properties) and incorporate their uses in it as well.

Onto the recipe!

You will need:

One grapefruit: Cleansing, purifying

3/4 cup of sugar: Invoking sweetness

1 tsp of vanilla extract: Self-appreciation

A pot

A vegetable peeler

A knife

A cutting board

Instructions:

Cleanse your kitchen.

Wash your fruit thoroughly and use moon water to rinse it off. You can also use a sat scrub to cleanse it further, both spiritually and physically. Once that's over, peel one large strip of grapefruit peel. Set aside.

Cut your fruit into wheel slices and poke out any seeds. Using the tip of your knife, carefully, carefully, cut off the peel and pith. Too much of these will turn your marmalade very bitter but make decent cleansing tea.

In your pot, add your zest strip, fruit, and sugar. Stir it well until all of the fruit is covered in sugar. Over medium-high heat, cook it all down while stirring constantly. Mash up the fruit with a fork or potato masher until all of the fruit is liquified and as smooth as you can get it. (This is when you can add powdered herbs, lemon pieces, etc)

Reduce heat to low and cook at a simmer until it can coat the back of a spoon thickly. This should take about 10-12 minutes. Stir occasionally.

Remove the peel of zest and perform the fridge test. This is done by placing a collop of marmalade on a small plate and sticking it in the fridge or freezer until it's completely cooled. If you want it thicker, continue cooking the marmalade. (This is also when you want to remove any chunks like herbs or lemon chunks)

Once it's to your liking, remove the marmalade off of the heat and cool SLIGHTLY before putting it in a heat-safe container with a lid.

This should keep in the fridge for about a month. It's tasty on toast, ice cream, or as an additive to a citrus cake! It can also be a good offering for homesteading, nature, or fruit-related dieties. The scraps of grapefruit can be used in tea or even candied.

As always everyone, blessed be, and happy witching <3

Support your local witch on Ko-Fi or at my store, Hallow Grove!

#in the witches book #pagan #kitchen witch #green witch #witchcraft #paganism #witch community #witch #green magic #spirituality #Spells #simple spells #witchblr #witchy things #beginner witch #witchy #witchery #baby witch #broom closet #closet witch #witch tips #witchcraft 101 #grimoire #herbal witch #witchythings #magick #magic #spellwork #witch tricks #witches of tumblr

[lou-struck]

Among The Violets: Part 3

Tamaki Amajiki x F Reader

Bridgerton! AU part 3

Warnings: The Patriarchy, corsets, talk of undergarments, large age gaps (mentioned), Physical abuse, mentions of Domestic abuse, forced marriages, manipulative bitches, Alcohol consumption, insecurity.Fake Dating AU!

~The Ton seems to be falling for your little ruse, but are they the only ones falling?

Word Count: 3.7k

My Dear Reader, 

One of the most overlooked positions in high society is that of the chaperone. 

A lady may be the embodiment of grace, beauty, and elegance, but without a respectable chaperone to lead the way, they could very well find themselves among the ranks of the spinsters.

When it comes to chaperones, Miss y/n has quite the advantage. The lively young Lord Togata easily could’ve been the man of the season, but he has chosen to help his fair cousin make quite the match of her own with his childhood friend.

The quiet Lord Amajiki accompanied the Lady at yesterday's picnic by the lake. While it is unclear what it is they discussed so secretly amongst eachother, but witnesses saw the Earl crack the most dashing of smiles in her presence. Before using his own tunic to shield his Lady once the sun was eaten away by the most untimely of storms.

Are there to be wedding bells in the future?

Always Yours

~ Lady Whistledown

Your place this morning's society paper on the side table with an almost giddy smile. Your little performance with the Earl is going over quite well. The Ton is starting to believe that the two of you are truly enamored with each other.

Your lips turn upwards into a smug smile. It’s almost as if you and the Earl are doing too good of a job. “Wedding Bells” you repeat, glancing down at the last line.

Just a month ago, the mention of any sort of nuptials would have had you rushing to the privy to empty the contents of your stomach.

“What does Whistledown have to say this morning?” Mirio chirps, placing his blonde head on your shoulder. You jolt upwards, hitting your head hard against his own.

“Owww,” you whine, rubbing the small bump already forming above your temple. “What the Bloody Hell do you think you’re doing Mirio?”

He chuckles deeply, ignoring the forming lump on his head. “Sorry about that y/n, you were just so enraptured with the gossip, I thought it’d be fun to tease you a bit.”

"When do you not tease me?" You sigh dramatically, sinking onto the velvet chaise.

"I would be a poor excuse for a cousin if I didn't," Mirio snickers and places his hand atop your head, ruffling your hair as you squeal and try to bat it away.

In all the excitement and squirming, you fall off the edge of the chaise and onto the floor with a soft thud. Mirio's laughter fills the room until the soft sound of knocking reaches your ears.

"Come in," you call, reaching out a foot and kicking your cousin hard in his left leg. It buckles slightly, and he grits his teeth in a wince, but he smooths out an invisible wrinkle on his dress vest, trying his best to look innocent.

"Mi-lord," Daisy says, poking her head into the drawing room, "Lord Amajiki is here to call on Miss Y/n. Shall I let him in?"

Mirio gives your maid a blindingly brilliant smile that has her knees wobbling beneath her long blue skirt. "There is no need, Daisy. I'll bring him in myself. Could you please put on some tea for our guest?"

"Of course, sir," she replies, dutifully bowing her head and leaving the room.

Mirio limps slightly out the door, no doubt still feeling the weight of your kick to his shin, before turning back to you with a smile. “The man of the hour has arrived, dear cousin. Do get off the floor.”

It’s unladylike but you stick your tongue out at him blowing a raspberry that echos throughout the now-empty drawing room. 

Tamaki really is playing his part well, coming to call, buying you flowers, and going on strolls. You’d like to think that if he were courting you for real, you would be just elated to have such an attentive suitor. 

Getting up from the floor, you pace about the room, wondering how exactly you should greet your gentleman caller. It’s then you glance at your slightly sullied reflection in the mirror.

How could you meet Tamaki looking like this?

You try to fix whatever hairs Mirio messed with earlier sighing when you think you look presentable enough to be worthy of semi-courting the Earl.

Your thoughts darken as they drift back to the day you received your first and only other caller.

~

It was no secret your parents were not a love match. Your mother pursued your father relentlessly, using his high regard for honor against him and trapping him into wedlock with a few tears and several rumors about an illicit affair.

You had been a product of their wedding night, the only night the two of them ever shared a bed. Once you were born, your mother chose to leave you with a wet nurse and move to a luxury townhouse far away from the both of you.

Instead of being heartbroken, your father celebrated the separation and chose to raise you as his sole heir, securing specialized documents from King All Might himself, and naming you, a woman, to be his successor.

It had been a week since your father's passing, and two days since his funeral. You swear you haven’t seen the sun since the day of his accident.

In your grief, you had hidden yourself away from the world. Confined to your room and weeping.

While you wept, however, your mother had already begun planning how she would spend the money left over from his estate. Parties, gowns, tours abroad.

The ideal life of a Wealthy Widow…

But there was still one problem, you.

People like your mother don’t back down from a challenge easily. As soon as the news of your father's will reached her ears, she made her way to you. Bringing along with her an ‘acquaintance’.

If your butler had not informed you who the woman downstairs was, you wouldn't have recognized your own Mother standing before you. 

“Y/n,” she called with a sickenly sweet tone. “Come down here. I have someone who is very interested in meeting you.”

Leaving your room for the first time in days, you make your way to the staircase. Each creak of the steps seems to scream at you to turn back, to run away. But in your state of grief and confusion, you come face to face with none other than your first caller.

Lord Paget is a horrid man of three and seventy. But he looks much older than that, with sickly skin and beady dark eyes that look like portals into the very depths of despair. They narrow into slits as he looks you over with a sneer. 

The man had been married eight times before, all beautiful young women, all from less than comfortable families, and all dead before their twenty-fifth nameday.

Staring into his eyes, your knees feel as if they are to give out at any moment.

“She’ll do.” he rasps as he hands your mother an envelope and leaves the two of you alone.

Your mother wraps her arms around you tightly. But her embrace feels nothing like the way your fathers did. It’s almost as if she is a snake coiling itself around its prey and squeezing. “isn’t this wonderful? I found you a husband. “

“A husband?” That can’t be right. You blink, confused at her meaning. 

“yes, once you marry the Lord, you don’t have to worry about all those pesky finances. We can deal with them so you don’t have to. “she says, grabbing your chin harshly. “your father was out of his mind to give you all this. But I am here to fix it.”

You manage to free yourself from her grip, “That is ridiculous.” you object with a glare. “That man is old enough to be my grandfather. You have no right~,” 

*Slap

Your cheek stings from the weight of your mother's hand against the skin and you stumble backward onto the cold floor.

“You ungrateful little brat.” she hisses, staring down at you. “Like it or not, I am your guardian. I may not have any power over the estate, but until you are married, I own you…”

The realization of her words cut you far deeper than any knife could. She’s right. As your guardian, she can manage all of your other affairs. If she wants to force you into a marriage, all she would need was a license from a clergyman. 

If Paget became your husband. He and your mother would be able to take everything your father had left you. You knew you had to leave that house before they force you into anything.

With a self-assured smirk, she leaves you alone on the floor promising to be back tomorrow to help finalize wedding details

You wrote an expression to Mirio that day, telling him vaguely of your troubles. Before packing your bags and following just behind the letter, rushing towards safety like a racehorse on its track.

~

 When Mirio took you in, you chose to tell him the reason you left was due to a pushy suitor and a mother who was uninterested in letting you come out into society.

At the time you justified it, he shouldn’t have to know the little details.

And now, as you fix the last out-of-place hair on your head, you turn away from your reflection and paste through the drawing room, trying to shake those bad memories from your thoughts.

Relaxing has never been your strong suit, especially now. Your hands fidget limply at your sides and your breaths come out in shaky exhales.

The Earl and Mirio will be joining you at any moment and you are not fit to be seen in this state of distress. 

The crystal decanter on top of the bar cart catches your eye. The deep amber liquid inside sits innocently on its platter. Mirio drinks this kind of stuff all the time when he is stressed. Maybe you should try to drown your sorrows as well.

With a shrug, you grab it and take a deep gulp of the liquid. As it rests on your tongue, you try to figure out what exactly Mirio drinks.

Is it Brandy?

Is it Rum?

Whatever it is, the disgusting flavor sends you into a fit of deep coughing. Tears well in your eyes and you scan the room for something to cover the foul taste of old perfumy liquor that grows stale on your tongue.

With Daisy out fetching the refreshments for your caller, the tea table is spotless, with the exception of a few pale blue cloth napkins. You grab the one at your own table setting and try to wipe the taste from your lips and tongue. 

“Not much of a drinker, are you cousin?” a chipper voice calls from behind you.

With the napkin in your mouth, you turn your head to see the two gentlemen standing in the doorway staring at your struggles and trying in vain to contain their laughter with tight lips.

It’s Mirio who cracks first, his booming laughter filling the room and rattling the windowpanes. Tamaki at least tries to excuse his chuckle as a tickle in his throat, but the mischievous look in his indigo orbs tells you that he had witnessed the whole scene.

“It appears that way,” you cough, feeling the embarrassment prick at your skin. 

“A-are you alright?” the Earl asks kindly, pulling a violet handkerchief from his breast pocket and handing it to you. The kind smile he gives you puts you at ease but makes you aware of the strange way your stomach flutters in his presence.

“Yes, thank you, my Lord.” you breathe gently, dabbing the drop of liquor from the corner of your lip. “I apologize. You certainly were not meant to see that.”

“See what?” he teases, taking the handkerchief from your outstretched skin. Your fingers brush delicately as he pulls away, sending a little shock between the two of you. The chatter dies on your lips and you look shyly at the ground. 

Thankfully, Mirio breaks the silence, clasping a hand on your shoulder, doing the same to Tamaki. “Well, thank you y/n for that little interruption. But I believe your caller has something they would like to ask of you.”

Tamaki shoots a little glare at his friend before looking up to meet your eyes. “Yes… My Lady. It’s about the ball tomorrow night. Would you allow me to fill your dance card for the evening?”

“The whole card?” you ask. Your eyes widen at the thought. Two dances would be more than enough to show the Ton that the two of you are courting, but over three can be considered improper in some circles.

“Yes, I know it seems a bit.. well.” He clears his throat. “risque, but I believe it would convince everyone that we are serious about eachother. I spoke with Mirio about it on the way in, but all he said was that it was ultimately up to you.”

“I see,” you say thoughtfully. While dancing the night away with Tamaki sounds alarmingly intoxicating, you have to think about next season…

When the two of you no longer have to spend time together.

“How about three dances?” you say “After that, you can find a way to excuse yourself from the Ball. It would take about an hour and a half of your time.”

“Sounds Perfect, he says with a relieved smile.

The damn fluttering feeling returns to your stomach, but you grin and bear it. 

“Wonderful,” Mirio cheers, clapping his hands together, “Then if the two of you are in agreement, perhaps you should accompany y/n to the modiste to pick up her gown in my stead, Tamaki.”

“Would that really be alright?” Tamaki asks furrowing his brow.

“It’s broad daylight,” he laughs. “If anyone says anything, just say you are two lovebirds on a stroll.”

“And where will you be?” you ask Mirio.

“As Viscount, I have many affairs to manage,” he says, guesting to the thick stack of letters on the table.

“I suppose that’s normal,” you mumble, looking to the Earl for his approval. “It’s not too far of a walk.”

“Then we shall,” he gulps, “Let’s get going then. I’ll bring along a footman.”

With a nod, the two of you leave the estate and head off to town.

~

The Modiste pokes you with yet another needle as she adds a few alterations to the gown for tomorrow's Ball. muttering an unfocused apology in her thick french accent before she looks at you with bright eyes.

“Miss, how do the sleeves feel? Can you move your arms?”

Slowly you raise them, testing out the way the fabric pulls with your motions. If Tamaki was here, you are sure he would compare the movements to that of a bird. “I believe so. What do you think, Madam?”

She bites at her lip before tugging at the gown. “It could be a bit looser,” she says, looking up at you with a grin. “I suppose you shall be quite busy tomorrow night.”

Right away, you know she is inquiring about your budding romance with the Earl. Next to Lady Whistledown, there is no other way to spread gossip quite like a trip to the modiste. You put on your best-smitten smile and sigh longingly.

“Yes, the Earl came to call this morning with a large bouquet of flowers to secure a space on my dance card.” It's partially a lie, but the hungry look in her eyes lets you know she is eating this story out of the palm of your hand. “May I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can My Lady, I won't tell a soul,” she replies quickly with the sewing needle still stuck between her teeth. 

“Lord Amajiki filled three spaces on my card,” you chuckle, trying your best to sound like all the other fawning debutantes she sees. “Can you believe that?”

“Isn't that so romantic?" she sighs, finishing the stitching on your arms.,"When you need a wedding gown, come to me.”

You toss your head back with elegant laughter and try your best to sound coy. “Perhaps.” 

“Well then, you’re all set.” she smiles, taking a final look at your finished gown. “When the earl sees you in this, he may just get down on one knee right away.”

“Do you think he would,” you say, taking a small glance at yourself in the mirror. The cut of the gown suits you rather well. Giving a gentle glow to your skin.

“Absolutely, My Lady, you look like a Diamond.” she squeals, helping you out of the garment. 

As she boxes up your gown, you find yourself lost in thought.

Would this dress really get Tamaki’s attention?

Why do you want it so badly? 

~

Stepping out of the Modiste you spot Tamaki sitting quietly on the bench where you left him. His nose deep in a book. His footman takes the parcel from you as they approach. 

“Are you all set?” he asks placing his little booklet inside a small black satchel.

“Yes, I hope you weren't waiting too long,” you apologize, “there was an issue with my sleeves.”

“It’s not a problem, it was fairly quiet out today so I was able to get a bit of reading done,” he says walking alongside you.

“S-shall I see you home?” he stammers holding an arm out for you to take. He is nervous again, in an effort to make him feel more comfortable in your presence you elect to participate in some small talk.

“Do you like to read often my Lord?” you ask politely enjoying the fresh spring air. 

“I love to read,” he says “Books were welcome companions on my travels.”

Conversing with the Earl is easy, the two of you talk about books and his adventures the whole walk home. By the time you approach the front door of the estate, you almost wish to turn around and start the excursion again.

“It appears this is it for today,” you say, “Thank you for accompanying me today My Lord.”

A pinkness appears on his cheeks that must be from the exercise. “It was my pleasure.” the words die on his lips. “Oh wait, I almost forgot.”

“Forgot what?” you ask tilting your head slightly.

“This,” he declares He reaches into the breast pocket of his waistcoat and pulls out a long black velvet box. Opening it up carefully you are met with the sight of a sliver chain adorned with deep purple amethysts. 

“It’s lovely,” you breathe looking at the necklace, “but why are you giving this to me?”

“It was my mothers,” he smiles fondly running his finger over one of the gems. “I want you to wear this to the ball in her Memory. Um, I’m not being too presumptuous, am I?”

“Not at all, Tamaki.” you smile, “I would love to wear this tomorrow.”

Gently he lifts the necklace out of the box and holds it out for you to try on. “May I?” he asks, a few strands of his dark hair falling elegantly in his face as he leans in.

Nodding dumbly you let him place the chain around your neck. He fumbles with the latch and you let your eyes flutter shut. No man has ever been this close to you, and he smells almost like a garden. 

The sound of your heartbeat thumbs wildly in your chest and you hope that he can’t hear it. It’s not excitement you feel, nor is it fear. The feeling that you were feeling right now with the earl‘s arms wrapped around you it’s something you’ve never felt before.

And you want to know more.

“There you are,“ he mumbles into your ear as he pulls back to admire the necklace. “ you- it looks beautiful.” He says staring at you with lidded eyes.

Now is definitely not the moment to speak, all you do is stare back at the Earl too entranced to interrupt this moment. Whatever it is.

The door to the Manor bursts open and Daisy steps quickly between the two of you. “ My Lady, the Viscount wishes to see you in his study.“

Tamaki seems to blink awake and takes a few stunned steps back. “ I will take my leave then, I shall see you tomorrow.” He says with a curt little bow and walks down the steps to the awaiting carriage.

“It’s urgent,” she says taking your arm and leading you inside with wide eyes.

Walking briskly down the hallway, your mind is filled with the Earl and the feeling of his breath on your skin

Does he know? That at least as of now, that little ruse of yours is weaving a very tangled web of your emotions. 

Trembling you push open the door to the study. Guilt pricks at your heart as you walk in.

He has his back to you but you can make out his blonde head behind his armchair.

He doesn't turn to face you at all, all he does is extend his hand toward the empty armchair across from him. 

His voice has never been colder “Please sit down.”

Afraid he will turn you out to walk around and grip the armrest with your still gloved hand. “If it's all the same to you Cousin, I’d rather stand.”

Just a glance at his face makes you regret your utterance as his knuckles clench and turn an angry white color. “You will sit,” he says staring at you with his blue eyes full of hurt.

As you situate yourself tensely n the edge of the seat you give out a shaky exhale. Just as you are about to speak he silences you with a raise of his hand.

“How long have you been planning on lying to me?”

Thank you so much for your patience with chapter 3. let me know if you would like me to continue this series.

Tagging: @sparklytamaki @hermaeuswhora @aprilshiraeth @disaster-they @tired-raven @tokyometronetwork @tiroftiaw

@vatuuxa

#bnha #bnha fluff #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #tamaki amajiki #bnha x you #tamaki amajiki x reader #amajiki x reader #tamaki amakiji #amajiki fluff #amajiki tamaki #tamaki x reader #mha tamaki #bnha tamaki #tamaki fluff #bridgerton au #Among the Violets🌷

[fruit-salad-ship]

This of course makes me think of Roman AU Peach saving a baby Booker, maybe he was captured with his mom for the coliseum and she can’t stand to see him held like that, she doesn’t know what to do but she hates it. Maybe Plum is around to see and demands to buy the cub, says she’s taking it home as an exotic pet but puts Peach in charge of him and makes sure he has a safe place to rest near her lodging. He’s so small, they don’t realize how old he is until he’s better fed and cared for, just been malnourished so long he’ll probably always be small, but he’s strong and smart and does whatever Peach tells him to

The sting in the tail.

Peach was forced to fight the momma bear, it was kill or be killed, thing nearly had her, but humans are smart, and peach was agile. She killed the mother and came out of that with a moderate scratch down her lower back. It was the second fight plum saw with this woman headlining, and the fight that could have been her last there.

Peach returns to the pits, injured, miserable, she didn’t want to hurt that bear, it wasn’t fair, if she could just stop fighting it could have been her to die out there not it, but the bear would only have to fight again as she did, eventually, one will die, the other will move forward a step. The guilt hangs heavy over her, humans sometimes get under her skin, their personality types clash with hers, so a kill can be…less thought about, not in any way ok or good, but not endlessly playing in her head. An animal however had nothing in this situation, not even the opportunity for freedom one day, they’d live and die in this place.

So when she gets to sit for a moment, and hears the cries of a bear somewhere echoing around in the stone chambers that she resides in, her attention is drawn. One young Welp is trying to help her with her injury, tries to stop her getting up and going towards the sound. Nothing can hold her back, not even her owner grabbing her arm and telling her to go to her cell to get treated so she’s not a money waster next fight. She continues, knows it’ll get her hurt for not listening, seeing the large cage the bear was no doubt once held. Inside however was a cub, no bigger than a small dog, someone poking at it with a stick through the bars. She doesn’t think, just grabs the person by the collar and slams their head into the bars, repeatedly, until they drop the stick, and run away bloodied.

The cub is small, hurt, tired, and peach knows now she just orphaned it.

Plum is discussing with her owner as she looks on, paying for this fighter, seeing her start to get roughed about by some guards, the man she had beaten for poking at the bear told on her, a couple of huge thuggish men making sure she didn’t forget where her place was. She had no sword, no shield, just fighting back as best she could. Plum overhears the conversation, it’s about the bear. This whole fight if about that cub. She says she’ll pay for it too, and to get the old owner to stop the thugs beating up her new purchase. NOW.

Peach was about to get a world of hurt, pinned up against the bars, hearing a soft voice that stopped everything. This new person in her life. The man in charge explained she’d serve plum now, and to take the bear with her.

Peach doesn’t have belongings to gather, handed a rope, the door to the cage unlocked. Plum waits, besides her grey who was about to step in on the fight.

From there it’s peach’s job to tend the bear, she doesn’t argue, she’s the reason it’s alone now. She’ll make it up to him, swears on it.

#rome au #fruit salad #brainrot

[rengokuswif3]

Tough Guy

Inosuke Hashibira x Reader

Warnings: Blood, pretty sure that’s it

Dates with Inosuke usually involved the outdoors, since that’s where he was comfortable and where you tended to have the most fun. The two of you would leave your Demon Slayer duties for later and go spend a few nights in the mountains together, fishing at the nearby river for food and sleeping in the trees together. You never felt unsafe out there when Inosuke was with you, after all he had grown up by himself in the wilderness, so he knew what he was doing. If a demon ever crossed paths with you, he’d insist on protecting you despite knowing very well you could take care of yourself. He didn’t doubt your strength at all, he knew you could beat his ass in training any day of the week, he just felt it was a noble thing to do to protect his s/o.

Even still, that didn’t happen often, and you certainly didn’t expect it just having a nice midnight chat outside near the river. Inosuke was busy trying to grab fish with his hands, already knee deep in the water, while you preferred to sit on the dewy grass and look at the stars above the two of you. The forest always brought you peace, you could feel the cool breeze through your hair and shaking the leaves, you could smell the fresh water running and hear the woodland creatures go about their business. It was actually quite easy for you to tune out Inosuke’s yelling, after all, you had gotten rather used to it by now. So your peace wasn’t ever disrupted, though you somehow felt relaxed hearing him cause you knew he was being himself around you. He even skipped out on the boars head tonight, letting you see his beautiful face you loved so much.

“OI, DAMMIT. THESE STUPID FISH ARE TOO SLICK!” He kicked the water in annoyance, not having caught a single fish yet.

“Inosuke, why don’t you come sit with me?” You asked, patting the grass next to you.

“After I catch one of these suckers!” He shook his head, eyes focusing back on the water, scanning for a fish to swim past.

“You’re not going to catch one this late at night! You can’t see anything!” You giggle when he grabs something and pulls out a large leaf instead of a fish.

“I have great vision! I can see just fine!” He shouts at you. “Just you wait! I’m gonna catch the juiciest fish here and you’ll be thanking me!”

“Whatever you say, tough guy.” You chuckle, sitting back and watching him continue to yell at fish that slipped out of his grasp and smacked him in the face, sending him falling over into the water. You laughed when he sat up, hair sticking to his face and shivering now.

“Now will you come sit with me?” You ask again, smiling at the pout on his face as he grumbles to himself, but caves in and hauls himself out of the water. He shakes his whole body like a dog, drenching you in the process and making his boar hide poofy and his hair wild.

“Come here, you wreck.” You grabbed his hand and tugged him down, making him sit in front of you so you could take his crazy hair. You pulled sticks and leaves out of it, gently combing it with your fingers. Inosuke protested at first until he realized it actually felt quite nice, and let you continue doing what you were doing.

“There, all better.” You beam at him as he sits back up to face you, for once a content look on his face.

“Y/N?” He asks, his calm expression not changing at all (which sort of worried you).

“Yeah?”

“Have I ever told you that…you have a zit right there?” He harshly pokes your forehead.

“Ow! Screw you!” You smack his hand away as he laughs loudly. “It’s not my fault I actually wash my face and still break out, meanwhile you have that sweaty, nasty pig head on all the time and still have flawless skin!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that I know what hygiene is. Have you ever heard of deodorant?”

“HEY! I GIVE OFF A MUSKY, NATURAL SCENT.”

“Yeah, called sweat.”

“NUH UH.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle again since he is oh so cute when he pouts.

“I’m just teasing, sweetheart.” You smile, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which seems to brighten him up.

“Gimme another one.” He points at his cheek demandingly. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek again, only for him to turn his head at the last second to make you kiss him on the lips. It’s not like the two of you haven’t kissed before, he just likes to mess with you every chance he got.

“Inosuke Hashibira, you’re going to be the death of me.” You say sweetly.

“What?! I’d never kill you! Why would you say such a thing?!” His eyes widen in shock.

“Honey, it’s an expression. It means I’d die for you.”

“DONT DO THAT! I WILL DIE FOR YOU FIRST Y/N!”

“Okay, we’re getting off track here-“

Both of you fall silent when you realize you don’t hear any wind or any animals. Not a single bird chirped, not a single leaf shuttered. It was eerie, the forest was never this quiet. You both quickly stand up and look around you, both on high alert. You reflexively grab Inosuke’s hand when you hear a twig snap behind you, and Inosuke protectively pulls you behind him and bares his teeth as a figure slowly steps out of the shadows.

“Hello, little lambs~” the demon grinned menacingly at the two of you.

“LITTLE LAMBS?!” Inosuke yelled, but looked to you when you gave him a warning tug to his hand. You were scared, neither of you brought your swords with you to your date, what would you defend yourself with? Sure both your fighting skills were good, but how would you cut the demons head off?

“Are you lost? Don’t you know it’s not safe to be out at night?” The demon stalked closer to the two of you.

“STAY BACK OR I’LL MESS YOU UP BIG TIME, MAN.” Inosuke warned, crouching into a fighting stance.

“Oh really?” The demon crept even closer, cracking its knuckles as it showed its claws.

“What do we do?” You whispered to Inosuke.

“Don’t worry.” He squeezed your hand before letting go and completely facing the demon. “YOU WANNA FIGHT ME? HUH? THEN FIGHT ME!”

“Oh I don’t want to fight you. I just want to eat you!” The demon lunged at full speed at Inosuke. Inosuke sent a hard punch right at the demons face, sending him spinning backwards.

“Come on!” Inosuke grabbed your hand and tugged you along with him, running back towards camp where you had left all your weapons. “We just need to get to our swords, okay?”

“Got it!” You nodded in confirmation, running as fast as you could alongside him.

“You’re not getting away that easy!” The demon yelled somewhere behind you, sending shivers down your spine. You felt hope flood your chest when you finally saw your camp, your swords gleaming in the moonlight. Inosuke charged ahead towards his swords and you ran towards your own, yelping when you felt something grab your ankle and pull you down.

“Y/N!” Inosuke froze for a moment, trying to decide whether to run to you or go to his swords so he could truly help you.

“Go! Hurry!” You yell at him desperately, knowing you could fend off the demon long enough. Inosuke nods and quickly runs off to get his swords as you flip yourself over to face the demon head on. It’s eyes glowed menacingly as it stated down at you, drooling over the blood on your face from your fall.

“You smell delicious~” the demon leaned down slowly, keeping claws to your neck as it licked the blood off your face. “And you taste delicious too!”

“GET OFF OF THEM!” Inosuke’s voice boomed, dangerously enraged now that he saw the demon put its filthy hands on you. Inosuke body slammed it away from you and charged right at it so it wouldn’t have a break. You used the opportunity to leap to your feet and scramble to get to your own sword so you could help your boyfriend fight this demon off.

You heard the clashing off Inosuke’s swords as he swung at the demon, and his angry yelling as the demon easily dodged his attacks and kept the cocky smile on its face. You finally reached your campsite and saw your sword propped up against a tree. Your hand met the hilt just as you hear a pained yelp, making you turn around to see the demon has badly slashed Inosuke’s torso. Your hand gripped your sword so tightly your knuckles turned white, and a fiery anger clouded your rationality.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” You screamed as you charged over, getting there faster than you had thought you could. You couldn’t reach his head from this angle without hurting Inosuke, so you slashed its arms off to buy some time.

“I’m fine! I got this!” Inosuke groaned as he held his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers.

“You’re bleeding bad, here.” You quickly shrug off your haori and pressing it to the large wound.

“No no, I’m fine!” Inosuke tried to push your hands away, wincing as you pressed to stop the bleeding.

“Please just stay!” You shouted at him, a little angrier than you intended, but it got the message across to him and he stayed out as you spun around to kill the demon yourself.

“I see you two are fond of each other.” The demon snickered as its arms grew back. “It’ll be so much more fun to watch your face as I eat the other! Which one shall I eat first?”

“NEITHER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” You screamed as you charged, enraged that he had hurt your boyfriend. You knew Inosuke had a high pain tolerance, but that slash was really deep and bleeding a lot, the demon must have cut a blood vessel. It pissed you off. All you wanted was to have a nice night under the stars with Inosuke, was that too much to ask? You were sick of demons ruining everything for you! And this particular one hurt someone you cared about greatly for, and that was unforgivable.

The demon swiftly dodged your attacks, feet quick and nimble compared to you. You knew you had to outsmart it before it could injure you too and bring Inosuke back into battle, risking further harm to him. Your slashes only cut off limbs, you couldn’t get close to the neck yet. You had to time it just right. Any microsecond off and you’d miss again and again.

You slowed your breathing down, beginning Total Concentration Breathing so you could pin point exactly where it’s neck would be. Time seemed to move a bit slower, but you moved at regular speed. You quickly used the opportunity to slice right through the demons neck, instantly beheading it. The demon screamed obscenities at you as it’s body slowed started to ash away, but you couldn’t care less as you ran to a star struck looking Inosuke.

“Suke! We have to get you to help!” You shouted in a panic, seeing your blood soaked haori in his hand pressed against his abdomen.

“Y/N…that was…THAT WAS SO AWESOME! YOU DID AMAZING! YOU ARE FAR STRONGER THAN I AND I AM VERY IMPRESSED WITH YOUR SKILLS!” Inosuke said proudly, eyes beaming up at you.

“Thank you, Inosuke, but we have got to get you medical attention!” You said desperately, helping him up and letting him lean on you for support as you walked.

He was silent for a bit, focusing on walking without making it hurt too much. You couldn’t tell if he was just tired from the blood loss, or if he was upset he had lost the battle, or what but he was quiet and that wasn’t normal for him.

“Inosuke? Are you alright? Are you starting to pass out?” You asked quickly, seeing his eyes become slowly unfocused and in a daze.

“I just…you…I love you.” He basically slurred, the blood loss finally taking a toll on him. “That was really something.”

“That’s what it got for ruining our date.” You kissed him on the cheek, before hauling him into your arms and carrying him princess style.

“Hey! I don’t need to be carried!” He shouted, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to focus on you.

“Just take it easy, tough guy. I’ve got you.”

#inosuke hashibira #demon slayer inosuke #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #inosuke x reader #Inosuke hashibira x reader #kny #kny x reader

[legendofzoodles]

Ancient Masonry

Linktober oneshot

“I recognise that stonework.”

Wild looked back to see Sky holding a small bundle of kindling and hovering over his shoulder. He brought up the Sheikah Slate for Sky’s wide eyes to see and made space for him on the log to sit. The older hero blinked at the image before walking over to where the larger sticks were and set his down next to them.

“From another era or your’s specifically?” asked Wild, sliding back to his original seat.

“Mine,” said Sky, now arranging the wood ready to make a fire for the evening. “It looks identical to that of the Sealed Temple.”

“Maybe they’re the same building then.” 

“Doubt it,” Sky scoffed with his back to him. Not giving his full attention. “I haven’t seen any structure from my era make it to even Four’s.”

“To be fair its location is within a canyon, so there’s a good chance it’s been underground for most that time, and only resurfaced recently.” He caught Sky’s skeptical expression and rolled his eyes. “Recently in terms of the grand timeline, that by it self could mean hundreds of years y’know.”

“Still, they probably just made a replica in the style. But fine, what does it look like?”

Wild took a closer look at the pictures. “Uh, well the doorway was blocked off by rubble so I had to go in through a large window above it.”

“Mhm.”

“There’s a massive open hall with walls that don’t extend to the ceiling which is over 20 metres high. Plus at the very end there’s a huge statue of Hylia- the biggest I’ve ever seen.”

“Huh, they really did their homework.” 

“Oh and off the the left there’s a strange tree that glows sometime poking out of of some stone at the side and some more greenery that I’m pretty sure has just-”

“What?!” Sky dropped the sticks and bolted over to where Wild was sat, who only had a second to shift out of the way and make room for him to sit down. Sky grabbed the Sheikah Slate and swiped through the images. “Wait where’s this tree?”

“Oh I didn’t take a picture of it. It’s just a tree.”

“‘Just a tree’?!” 

Wild raised an eyebrow. “...Is it important?”

“Well, it might be the same one I planted a couple years back,” Sky said, handing Wild back his device. “It’s important to me at least. If it’s the same one, or even one of it’s seedlings then...ok maybe you were right and it is the same temple.”

Sky regretted wording it like that the moment he’d opened his mouth. Before he’d even finished speaking there was a smug grin on Wild’s face, making him frown. “Don’t make that face, you look ugly.”

“You make that face all the time when you’re right!” Wild retorted. 

“No I don’t,” Sky said with a wave of his hand. “But anyway, what’s it called?”

Wild sighed but answered with, “Uh, it doesn’t really have a name. In the Royal Archives and the Sheikah Slate’s map it’s just labelled as the ‘Forgotten Temple’. Since it’s hard to get to, no one’s really explored down there, and because of that we don’t know much about it.”

“I see.” Sky was conflicted. On one hand he was happy to know that relics from his time still exist this far down the timeline, but he was also sad to hear that they were nothing more than cultural window dressing on Hyrule’s landscape. Abandoned, with no memory of their true purpose. 

“You should be impressed that it’s even survived this long,” Wild said glancing at him. “It’s a miracle it wasn’t destroyed further, there are only a handful of structures like it left.”

Sky’s eyes went wide and practically gleamed. “Wait, there are more?!”

~~~

Thanks for reading!

I only know how to write rivals by making them argue over petty things. 

Masterlist

Recovered Regrets (LU)

Smoke Signal (LU Wild x reader)

#it's my believe that sky will trade insults with wild #and only wild #their frenemy dynamic demands it #as do i #linked universe #lu #linked universe fanfiction #lu fic #lu fanfiction #lu fanfic #linked universe fanfic #lu wild #lu sky

[fiercefauna]

What follows is part 11 of a story that largely features the SCP universes’ 049 character. You can read the story or just enjoy the picture. The rest are below.

The rat squirmed as the giant hand set it down. The tiny 049 held on to his hat and started to run. It was as though he had just been born alongside surgical tools and an oddly specific set of instincts. Would he now have to fight this thing for their amusement? Such barbarism! 

Where was his parent? What was his parent? There was a giant that shared his features but he had felt no relation to it. The smell of it was wrong, foreign. The rat didn’t smell right either and seemed aggressive, scrabbling with its claws and nibbling with its terrible yellow teeth. He turned a corner and met a wall. He went back the way he came and met the rat. 

He poked the animal with his stick and calmly tried to go around it. The rat grabbed the stick and tried to nibble it. It wouldn’t let go. The tiny 049 gave its nose a firm slap. The rat rolled over on to its side and lay still. 

Dr. Kline frowned, twirling one of her vibrant red curls. The color wasn’t natural but it was permanent. Stuff like that happened when you worked for the Foundation.  

Her assistant, Dr. Mills, stepped forward. She held him back. “Not yet” she said.

The tiny 049 stepped awkwardly around his fallen foe and kicked it a few times. What had happened to it? A thought occurred to him. When in doubt, operate. The knowledge of what that meant rose to the surface of his mind like a divine revelation. He opened his bag. 

An hour and a half later the rat rolled on to its feet. Feeling it was no longer a threat, he dug his fingers into its coarse fur, too small to perceive it as softness. It wasn’t exactly the friend he was hoping for but it was close enough for now. 

Dr. Mills made to guide the two creatures back to the waiting cage with a meter stick but Dr. Kline stopped him. 

“Let’s give this thing some room in case it wants to try something else. The maze is sealed. It can’t get out. Leave the cameras running too. I want to know the full extent of what we’re dealing with.”

“Assuming we can handle It.” remarked Dr. Mills. 

#scp 049 #scp #scp foundation #plague doctor

[moonie-presence]

canvas, wardrobe, & alternate for the oc ask game ?? any character(s) of your choice!! :3

omg hi!!! Ty

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Du Vide, unless im misremembering, is my only oc with tattoos. They span his entire body, neck to toes, and he did them himself, sewing needle stick n' poke style. I doubt he'd have trusted any one else to ink them.

Since du vide is an upcoming ttrpg character and my fellow players follow me i wont go into detail regarding why he has them by he definitely has them for a reason, relating to his work in experimental machinery/technology. Any good mad scientist tests things on themselves first, obviously.

As for covered up or not, he doesn't make any real effort either way, due to the size of the tattoos. he's usually pretty covered, but he doesn't care if they get seen, theyre not secret. as for why they don't show up in the art usually is because i hate drawing them. weeps

wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

Courtland is a notable character wardrobe-wise because i designed him to be so unredrawable due to my madness

pictured: madness

Courtland's wardrobe is relatively large but most of his clothes look the same. The clothes he's wearing up there are his work uniform, so it's what he's usually wearing day to day with a few changes.

however he does have other clothes in line with what you'd expect from an aristocrat, like day clothes, outing clothes, outrageous party clothes, etc. Courtland's got *very* extravagant party clothes. he doesn't get the opportunity to wear them often and isn't very fond of them anyway.

as for when his clothes get fucked up, he's very good at repair. sewing and the like is one of his favorite hobbies!

here's him under all that fabric;

alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!

when it comes to AUs, the one i end up landing on a lot for the earthshakers is the classic "what if it all never happened"/"what if they lived"

theres exactly one post on here (or the art blog i dont remember) explaining what the deal is with purgatory so heres a quick rundown: In the spaces between realities exists a vast, wild, metaphysical plane referred to occasionally as purgatory, which is a roiling melting pot that chews people up and spits them out as fantastic monsters. getting there is extremely difficult, but the hands down easiest way is to die, and fall through a weakness or crack in your reality when transitioning from life to afterlife.

Since the creatures in purgatory are always changing to suit their needs and there is no true ceiling for what can happen to you, occasionally a particularly strong-willed individual will grab unmatched, omnipotent power and become something called an earthshaker, the highest most feared echelon of purgatorian life. not gods, but damn well close. The earthshakers i've designed are Wellium (aka Lux, or the White Light), Videns, and Seleen.

(psa: this is a creative project? headworld? thing? ive been working on for literally upwards of 6-7 years now. I consider it my special interest, but its kind of nebulous and wordy and i get Too Excited about it so i end up rotating it around in my head a lot instead of talking about it)

Each of the three come from wildly different places/settings, and each has a grisly death, leading to their conquering of the endless voidplane. It's a fun thought to think about, about where they'd be if they just never died at all.

Wellium was once a soldier, a test tube baby/experimental weapon used in an intergalatic war. Eventually after a life of training to kill the unfamiliar, her life was considered inconsequential enough to be selected to guide and activate an experimental bomb to attempt to wipe out their enemy. Videns was a child born with select supernatural powers, and out of fear and superstition was drowned in a river by a mob of villagers after a life of living on the run. Seleen, a magician, was born with too much magic, and died when her body couldn't handle the strain anymore.

like. Videns could have found a place where she couldve flourished and been accepted. Seleen couldve pursued other paths in life instead of obsessing over her own impeding death and the use of the very thing that doomed her. Wellium couldve gone home.

their deaths are tragic, but theyre what set them on the path to kinghood and make them the creatures they are now. however, due to the way their universes work, there are realities where they did live, and lived full lives. got the chances to become people. its fun to think about!

what is and what was.

again ty soooo much for the ask! sorry that this post is dashboard destroying lol

#purgatory setting #lux / wellium #du vide #courtland #ask game #long post #videns futura #seleen moramor #holy fuck a reason to talk about earthshakers #i am. so emo. about them #if you count it a lot of the stuff i draw about them being silly and the like is an AU bc #a lot of the ''canon'' stuff is just brutal!