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fillinforlater · 4 months

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Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already.

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you.

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess.

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest.

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly.

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her.

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body.

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you.

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung.

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out.

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!”

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock.

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them.

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands.

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh.

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out.

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed?

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph.

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead.

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last.

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous.

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing.

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips.

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties.

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good.

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately.

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her.

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product.

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious.

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type.

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber.

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs, unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before.

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise.

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before.

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?”

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly.

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend.

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal.

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch:

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit.

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

“Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone.

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged.

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies.

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk.

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way.

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision.

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth.

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips.

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll.

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet.

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on.

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake.

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected.

“And you will collect all of them.”

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prismatic-bell · 11 months

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HEY EVERYONE

Do you enjoy the idea of Sticking It To The Man, but also you’re fucking tired? Maybe you appreciate the idea of direct action of some kind but ADHD, depression, or physical disability has made it nigh-on impossible for you to actually, you know, do shit?

Well, friends, allow me to introduce you to a small but significant thing you can do to Stick It To The Man while also benefiting your own mental health:

I haven’t bought green onions in a year.

If you’re sitting here thinking “holy shit, Nina, those look like hell,” you’re not wrong—they’re recovering from some unintended abuse. They survived two weeks in triple digits (that’s upward of 35 degrees for y’all with the weird sciencey math units) while I, uh. Forgot to water them. The outer layers dried out to protect the inner layers and as soon as I watered these thirsty bitches they went

They literally looked dead three weeks ago. So yeah, they’re not too pretty right now, but you wouldn’t be either, and they’re bouncing back nicely.

So, how to do this simple thing?

1) obtain dirt and a pot. You’ll want to do this first because the next steps go surprisingly fast. My green onions live in a 6” terracotta pot and some gardening topsoil, but you can use potting mix (not Miracle Gro tho, that stuff is trash), dirt from outside if you live in a place where it’s safe to do so, any kind of soil will do provided it’s clean and doesn’t contain pests (although most pests will leave alliums alone because they hate the smell). To be clear, because we love and respect our biosphere in this house, “pests” in this context means “bugs that specifically will attack green onions while providing no benefit to either the onions or any other plants you may have.” The pot is mandatory, however—if you want to do this year-round, you need to be able to move the onions inside/outside as weather allows/demands.

2) buy some green onions. You can skip straight to step 4 from here if you want, but if you’re planning to use them first…

3) cut them only to the tops of the white bits. In other words you ONLY want to use the green part.

4) put the white bits in a ramekin, measuring cup, etc. with some water. I’ve used things as big as juice glasses for this, but that’s really on the big end. Put your container in a window with some sun.

5) 3-5 days later, you should see about half an inch of root growth on the bottoms of your onions, and possibly the beginnings of a tiny green spear at the top. (Maybe a bit more, if they’re overachievers.) Plant them in your pot with just a bit of the white sticking up overtop of the soil.

6) water just a little bit, every other day. You want the soil to always be moist to the touch, but never out and out wet.

7) watch them sprout. This is excellent for your mood, by the way. Science says having and tending green things provides visible benefits to both your physical and mental health. We also know that making tangible things is good for your mental health, and green onions grow quickly, so you get benefits fast.

8) As they grow, you can reduce watering to three times per week because they’ll be able to store more water. The leaves will feel firm and “thick” (you’ll understand what I mean when you get to feel a properly-watered green onion) when they have enough water, much like a succulent’s leaves will get thicker and firmer when it’s well-hydrated, so it’s relatively easy to tell if they need a drink.

9) trim your onions as you need them! I try to never take more than 3-4 leaves in a week—about half a bunch—so it has time to grow more, but if you live with a bunch of people you can get around this by just starting more green onions. Buy three or four bunches and plant them all. They don’t go bad because they literally just grow until you need them. I’ve actually planned meals around “I have not used enough green onions lately and the leaves are bending under their own weight, I need to trim some tops.” Although the ones you see in the grocery store have open tops, you’ll notice closed spears on your new leaves, and these are completely edible. Yes, I regret to tell you they cut off and probably waste the tapered bits just for The Aesthetic. They’re just like any other green part of the onion.

AND YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO BUY GREEN ONIONS AGAIN. Just add a little soil now and again to replenish the nutrients.

Yes, they’re cheap. Yes, this is a small thing. But many small things added together are a big thing. And when you’re confident in your green onions, if you have the desire and ability to do more, there are many other plants you can grow from grocery-store starters.

GO FORTH. ENJOY THIS KNOWLEDGE.

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vidduality · 2 months

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SPOILERS for Episode 6 of the Avatar Live Action series

AKA why this episode makes me SO grateful for this adaptation (re: the Zuko flashbacks and the Agni Kai).

----

Wow.

I admit, I was really worried at the idea that Zuko might potentially fight back in the Agni Kai against his father in the live action. I expected to HATE it, and it's certainly a bold change, but it fits in SO WELL with why Zuko is the way that he is (and why he works so hard to push down his empathy whenever Aang tries to reason with him).

The Agni Kai - Zuko obviously did NOT want to fight his father. He still tried to apologize and beg for mercy, but in the end he was just too terrified of his father to disobey a direct order.

But when Ozai left him an opening to see what he'd do with it, Zuko couldn't bring himself to actually land a blow that might burn him. Making his lack of ruthlessness the weakness that Ozai ends up mutilating him for - even straight up telling Zuko that compassion is weakness and then demonstrating by holding his own child down and lighting him on fire - adds a layer of depth that only enhances the original scene (and in another stroke of genius, we see Ozai nearly in tears himself. He's convincing himself of this lesson as well as Zuko, which was likely passed down to him by his own father). Honestly, this to me is even more heartbreaking than Ozai burning him for refusing to stand and fight. Zuko did everything his father asked and he still failed, because his family has distorted what it means to be honorable and believes Zuko's capacity for mercy to be a shameful weakness unbecoming of an heir to the throne.

The 41st Division - And here come the waterworks. Assigning the very people Zuko was hurt so severely for trying to save to his ship as it's being cast out of the fire nation (presumably forever, with the Avatar not having been seen in 100 years) is SUCH a brilliant addition. His crew resents Zuko for being stuck on this impossible mission with this bratty, angry child. And Zuko is too ashamed of his "weakness" to explain why they were assigned to him.

I can totally see Zuko's hurt at their lack of respect making him even more angry (especially after everything he went through to save them from being sacrificed), and his seemingly irrational anger at them just continuing to make them resent him more in a neverending feedback loop of anger and disrespect that's been growing and festering for 3 years.

Which makes the scene at the end when Zuko's crew finally learns about how he saved their lives (as well as why he's obsessed with the avatar, why he's banished, what his scar means and why he's trying so very hard to rid himself of empathy, even if he can never quite manage it when it counts) so much more impactful. I SOBBED when the 41st Division stood at attention and showed him their utmost respect and loyalty, possibly for the first time since they've been on that ship. Zuko's soft "what's going on?" at finally being honored by his crew is just imprinted on my brain.

The seed of the idea that his compassion may NOT actually be what was shameful about his banishment afterall can finally begin to take root.

I just, damn, I love this episode so much.

#zuko #avatar the last airbender #atla live action #atla spoilers #atla netflix #fire lord ozai #avatar live action #avatar netflix #avatar spoilers #41st division #agni kai #avatar #i hope they survived #i need them to be there to see what zuko becomes #and they can spread the word to the fire nation #about who deserves their loyalty #meta #natla #atla

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angelshadowsinger · 2 months

Text

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐖):

hanahaki!au, TW gore/vomiting (mildly descriptive— it’s bloody petals), unrequited love, themes of depression and lack of self worth, pining (so much pining), & dramaaaaa

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

When you develop feelings for your best friend, you delude yourself into believing you can ignore them for the rest of your life, if it means you can stay by his side. But once he starts seeing someone else, you discover that if you continue keeping your secret… your time on earth may be cut short. You find yourself with an impossible choice— remove all attachments to the shadowsinger and live, or hold out hope and suffer the consequences.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

This one goes out to all my angst girlies. My ladies who like the feeling of tears crawling onto your pillow, of hurt balling up in your stomach as you wander through a fic. I see you and I feel you, and I cooked this one up special just for you.

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

Mates do not exist in the universe that this fic is set in, meaning Elain is not “off limits” to Az, and Cass is single. Additionally, since mates aren’t a thing, marriage/weddings are!

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The first time it had happened, you had been more confused than anything.

Azriel had just given Elain a gift for Starfall; a pair of earrings that would glow a warm pink when kissed by the sun’s rays. Her cheeks turned the same color as she admired them, as did the tips of the shadowsinger’s ears.

Just one smooth petal rested in your palm as you brought your hand back from covering a cough, pink and delicate and beautiful. You thought that maybe it had landed in your palm before you coughed— even if there were no peonies in the vicinity and you hadn’t even seen one in months. Because there was no way that it had come… out of you.

The second time it happened, confusion became fear and it swiftly took root deep in your stomach. This time, it was a couple of petals, dewey in your hand as you turned away from your friends, shock running through you.

Azriel and Elain were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the love seat in the living room of the House of Wind, spirits being passed around by everyone and laughter filling the air. They had just shared a look you could infer was meant to be a secret between only them, but you had unfortunately witnessed the action. You could hardly breathe as you quickly hid the evidence of your newfound predicament, dumping the petals into a potted plant beside the mantle. You hoped that you were slick; taking a slow sip from your glass in an attempt to rid your throat of that tight, scratchy feeling even though your body was screaming for you to gulp it down.

In that moment, you realized that something was wrong with you. It would only take a few more petal-filled fits and two trips to the grand library of Velaris to discover that you were— to put it simply— completely, wholly, and undeniably doomed. It was there, during the early hours of morn and the empty, candle-lit corridors that you learned three things;

You were in love with your best friend, Azriel.

He was in love with someone else.

And you were going to die.

—

Things between you and the shadowsinger hadn’t always been so difficult.

Your relationship was, for many years, easy and left you feeling light; every conversation and interaction cherished. Initially, the pair of you had become fast friends; the other members of the Inner Circle even remarking on how he was usually a little slower to build relations. Perhaps something of your sense of self, intelligence, and silver-thorned wit had something to do with his initial intrigue. That was the guess Feyre ventured, anyway.

Once your friendship with the elusive male had blossomed, it was easy to maintain. Though you didn’t see him every day, when he did pay you a visit, the two of you made the most of it. The Inner Circle liked to poke at the pair of you, even going so far as to joke about your relationship that was not a relationship. And you and Azriel took it like champs; never wavering, always keeping it light in good fun.

But at night when you would crawl into your sheets and close your eyes, sometimes thoughts of him would find you. It was wrong to be thinking of your best friend like this when he so obviously would never feel that way for you, and yet… you pondered how his fingers would feel tracing across your naked back. You wondered what it would be like to melt into his arms at the end of the day, how his heartbeat would sound if it was just inches away from your ear, if you could lay your head on his chest.

You tried, you really did try to stop the thoughts from coming. But they quickly became more vivid, and more frequent than before. You couldn’t rid him from your mind— couldn’t focus when he came near, couldn’t hold up your end of the witty volley you usually shared because you’d get flustered if you stared at him for too long. Slowly, you had come to realize that the jokes your friends loved to make weren’t just conjecture— they knew all along that something was there.

It made you wonder if Azriel knew, too.

He was undeniably one of the smartest males you had come to know— your appraisal of him was sparkling, stellar. But when it came to things regarding emotion— specifically, his own emotions… he tended not to be quite as adept. So you had now landed in this confusion-fogged purgatory. Either your best friend knew you harbored feelings for him and he did not return them whatsoever— acting ignorant of your emotions. Or he didn’t know you were in love with him, didn’t even see a romantic relationship with you as a possibility, and maybe… if he were enlightened, he would realize that he… loved you too.

It was that very hope that had you holding out for so long. You so desperately wanted to believe that he just wasn’t aware of your feelings— of his— that you smushed your dignity down and continued to uphold your friendship, never revealing that you felt romantically attracted to him.

But the waiting game, of course, came back to bite you in the ass. Because the moment you realized he had started to see someone else… you knew that you had deluded yourself for months. All those nights that you laid awake, fantasizing about him and how he would proclaim his love to you… they were just fantasies. Nothing of the sort would ever happen.

Because now, he had Elain.

Her— the Archeron sister known for her gentle spirit and her striking face. She was quiet, and sweet, and goddamn breathtaking. Of course it had to be her; it couldn’t have been some bitch that would actually be deserving of your hatred. Because he was perfect, why would his choice of life partner be anything but? You couldn’t think of a bad word to say about the woman.

Elain had always treated you with polite kindness, a sense of regality emanating from her and her ethereal beauty. Though she wasn’t by any means your favorite female, there was nothing she had ever done to justify even a grain of dislike. You couldn’t say your few conversations had been riveting, nor her presence been warm and inviting… but they hadn’t been the opposite either. Your opinion on her was removed, but pleasant. Hell, if you could stand a blow to the ego, you might even admit you were jealous of the looks almost every male gave her when she entered the room.

The jealousy certainly ramped up once you realized that your beloved shadowsinger was one of those males… and actually, he was the only one she seemed to return interest toward, which of course… was salt in the wound.

As the weeks dragged on, their supposedly-secret affair began picking up speed. The sight of Azriel’s warm hazel gaze pinned to her made your stomach churn with unease, the petals itching up your throat more and more often. It became easier to just avoid the both of them in general, and with the absence of their presences, it was easier for you to pretend that everything was fine, and that you could handle your worsening condition on your own.

But of course, that was not the case.

Because after a few months, the Inner Circle gathered in private quarters above the Night Court Annual Starfall Ball. Thousands celebrated and swirled below you in the ballroom and yet you could only focus on one. It was then that the man who haunted your thoughts stood before the rest of you, pretty Elain tucked under his arm all giddy and shy, and announced they were engaged to be wed.

—

Warm liquid trickled out from the corner of your mouth, your ears ringing as your vision blurred in two, wide waves cleaving and then melting together again.

The crisp air felt welcome on your flushed cheeks, cool on your inflamed, ragged lungs. Stars danced above you as they pelted across the sky, and in your haggard state, they seemed to smear into a disorienting and beautiful masterpiece.

Someone was kneeling in front of you, large wings casting shadows around broad shoulders as they yelled something you couldn’t quite understand. The warm smell of them was comforting and you relaxed slightly, recognizing it was Cassian and slumping as his calloused hands came to hold your biceps.

The spliced image of him made it too hard to read the words on his lips. You tried to sit up but your body was drained, making it impossible to move. The Illyrian gathered your limp form into his arms and your head lolled to face the ground, finally piecing together what had happened.

A pile of pink, lush petals glistened up at you against the dark stone of the balcony floor, the light from the full moon sparkling off droplets of deep scarlet. It had happened again… and this time, it was even worse than before. You had had another episode— the evidence of it glaring even in your semi-conscious state.

“You’re in love with him…,” Cassian said slowly, barely even audible.

But you heard it— your body trembling with some sick concoction of shame and relief. For so long you had not uttered a whisper of your feelings, never daring to take ownership of them, let alone share them. There were no words that you could muster, nothing sharp or bright for you to make a response. You were just tired. Indescribably tired. Gods, you were so tired, your limbs felt as if they had turned to stone, and you could slumber for a thousand years.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” the male growled, squeezing your limp form closer to his firm chest. “I swear, he… Gods, this is fucked.”

You closed your eyes and allowed his body heat to seep into you, finding a small bit of comfort there. Cassian didn’t choose to say anything else as the waves of sickness gradually dissipated, leaving you weak and numb.

“Cass,” you rasped, barely able to get enough air to speak. “I’m scared.” Your head felt as if it was filled with a thick smog— struggling to get enough oxygen as you slowly recovered.

The General’s brow furrowed in pain at your pitiful confession, gathering you closer to his chest and tucking your head in tight beneath his chin. “I know, sweetheart. But you’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself, not anymore. I’m here.” Cassian held you so delicately you wanted to cry, guilt pulsing through you as you realized he must have been terrified to have found you in such a sorry state. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, woe taking root deep in your chest. Now that you had seen Azriel with her— like that, so clearly in love with her, parading their affections out in the open, for anyone and everyone to see as he twirled her around the ballroom earlier… It was too much. Every part of you throbbed in agony, and you were consumed in fresh throes of self-pity. It was completely humiliating to be this debilitated. All because you were in love with your best friend, and he was in love with someone else.

Cassian scrunched his brow, the planes of his chiseled face settling into solid lines as you regained your bearings. “There’s no need to apologize, Y/n. You didn’t ask for this— how you feel is not your fault. Your body is already punishing you for simply having feelings— don’t let your mind join in on the beating too.”

You nodded, tucking your hands into your chest as he sighed and stood, taking you with him. He lifted you into his embrace with the utmost ease, as though you weighed nothing more than a sheet of paper. Your evening dress fluttered with the movement. If anyone caught sight of you two from far away, perhaps it could be construed as romantic, the way he now held you in his strong arms, strolling away from the party.

“You don’t seem as… freaked out as I thought you would,” you whispered as he walked with lethal quiet. Shadows stood tall above you as you approached the hedged boundary of the estate gardens, cutting into the overwhelming display the falling stars continued to put on.

Cassian was quiet.

You took a minute to study his somber expression, trying to read what he was feeling in this moment of recollection. Clearly, he had some experience with this disease before. Otherwise, he would’ve ran you right inside the ball, or to the nearest healer. But he didn’t— instead, he’d wandered into the dark hedges of the grounds, concealing you from prying eyes and ears. As if he understood what you would want most in this moment of shattering vulnerability.

“I’m not sure why you expect so little of me, little one,” he eventually replied, coming to the center of the area. He perched you beside him on a wrought-iron bench, facing a small fountain whose gentle gurgle drowned out the last hints of the celebration you’d left behind.

You frowned. Your lungs felt looser— distracted by whatever it was that provided Cassian with experience regarding your dreadful illness. It was nearly enough to forget the bomb that had been dropped on you upstairs just twenty minutes ago. “It’s not that, it’s just—“ you began. Cass shot you a playful look and you sighed, a smile daring at your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Okay I just meant that before this, I’d never heard of this kind of thing…” Your voice trailed off, hand reaching to rest on his before you murmured, “I’m sorry you have.”

The Illyrian raised a brow and let out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh no— It wasn’t me, I don’t… Well, never that bad anyway. I’ve just seen… how bad it can get. An old friend of mine once had the unfortunate experience of falling ill to this plague centuries ago.”

You nodded and put your hands in your lap, digging a thumb into your palm. “What… happened to them?”

Cassian closed his lips and sighed, hands bracing his knees. Silence drew out for a long beat before he finally spoke. “He told the one he loved about his ailment. And they told him..,” he trailed off, gaze darting sideways to land on you. You gestured for him to continue, and he did so after a brief pause. “They told him they would never have romantic feelings for him. They asked him to have the procedure. They wanted him to live, and if they couldn’t love him… then that was the only way.”

You shuddered. The very notion of the procedure made your bones ache and your shoulders sag.

“So he did,” Cassian went on, undeterred. “And he survived.”

Quiet invaded the still air, otherwise only interrupted by the low chirps of crickets in the grass and the muffled party. Cassian decided not to speak any further on the subject, instead content to let a calm silence settle between the pair of you. But somehow, you found yourself talking— despite never having voiced aloud any of these feelings, any of these thoughts.

“Cass, do you think… I should have the procedure, too?”

It was a question that was fully weighted— heavy, you already knew, but by the way the Illyrian’s shoulders sagged, the gravity of it all seemed more drastic than before.

Cassian took his time to form a reply, but when he finally did, it was in a soft and hushed voice. “I am not the one that should be making such calls, Y/n. But I will tell you that my friend… he was never quite the same.”

You shared a look of understanding with him— he was your friend, and the male you were in love with was his brother. Freshly engaged brother, at that. The consequences of the procedure would certainly crack a deep fracture in the dynamic of your group. If anything, you would probably fade away from everyone, seeing as every one of your memories that the Shadowsinger dwelled in would be tainted— his absence removed entirely. He would not exist to you anymore, and even if that wouldn’t necessarily affect you, oblivious to his existence, everyone around you would not share that same luxury.

And Azriel would be there, too. He would have to see you and know that you had loved him so intensely, that those feelings were so wholly one-sided, that you had to physically remove him from your mind. All so that your heart could forget him and start anew. Would that bother him? Knowing that you had suffered because you had fallen in love with him, while he would never possibly feel that way for you? Surely that would make him uncomfortable, to be in your presence after that. So ultimately, it would be best to just move away, and start somewhere else— clean slate. Would he even miss you?

“Sometimes I think about it— the procedure. This disease, it’s a wretched way to live, Cass. It hurts,” you said, voice cracking as emotion welled up in your eyes and throat. “It hurts so fucking bad, I can’t even be around him anymore. Especially not now. Now that he’s…” You trained off, unable to say the words.

Cassian slid to your side, tucking you underneath a strong arm. The shadow of his wing furled around you from behind, encasing you in a warm, safe space. Tears began to race down your cheeks, gathering at your chin and splattering onto the silken fabric on your lap. You couldn’t stop them— still too drained from the fit from before. All you could do was cry as your friend gathered you closer to him, patting the top of your head with careful strokes, trying his best to comfort you.

Only once your crying seemed to subside did Cassian offer another solution. “Maybe… you could talk to him.”

You laughed— a hollow, broken sound. Cassian lips curved up at the sound nonetheless. “I’m simply nowhere near as brave as you, Cass.” Shaking your head, your gaze focused on the bubbling fountain before you. “Even if I could manage to face him, and confess to him… If he rejected me… I think I’d die on the spot.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, voice low.

You bit your lip. “And why not, Cass? There’s a good chance that I could drop dead any time I have one of these fits. That’s just reality.”

“Well fuck that reality,” Cassian spat, wings ruffling. “I don’t want to live in a world without you, and I sure as hell know Azriel wouldn’t either.”

“Well maybe I don’t wanna live without him!” you yelled. After holding back your emotions for so long, they just kept flooding out after the hole Cassian had punched into the dam that had kept them at bay. “Maybe I’d rather die than lose even one memory with him, maybe I’ll just hold out for as long as I can because I’m too fucking scared to lose him!”

Cassian’s face twisted into agony. “And what of those who love you?” he challenged, voice shaking slightly with emotion. “What about us, what happens when you die, and when the last memories we will have of you were you withering away before our very eyes?! You love him? Do you know what world of pain he will be in when he finds out what happened to you? And then to discover your absolute complacency in the matter?”

A sob escaped you as you felt every word of truth pierce the feeble veil you had called a shield in your attempt at denial. Your friend was right— you couldn’t allow this disease to win, not if that meant hurting everyone you loved in the process. And now that you thought about it— even if you chose to remember him, and let the sickness take its course… what good would those memories do you, when you’d be dead?

Cassian seemed to realize you had accepted defeat, because he tightened his hold on you and stroked your hair as you cried into his chest. The sadness you felt unfortunately was not alleviated by your tears, but at least… you had come to see that there was only one option forward.

You had to go through with the procedure.

You had to forget Azriel.

𝘩𝘪 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴!! 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 <3 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘤, 𝘚𝘛𝘚𝘗𝘍𝘠~ 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦! 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯~

𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘮𝘬 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2 & 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!!

⤷ masterlist

#azriel x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angelshadowsinger #azriel angst #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #my work #azriel x you #STSPFY series

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mysterycitrus · 4 months

Note

PLEASE go off about Bruce

the popular modern character beat for bruce where he’s this truly unhinged machiavellian mega genius actively plotting his own downfall is so far divorced from his neo-noir detective roots it makes me want to tear my hair out

it really goes without saying that bruce is singularly driven by restorative justice, more than literally anyone else aside from maybe cass cain. his decision not to kill under any circumstances is not a selfish one, it’s a selfless one, because bruce understands that no one person should have the right to take a life. if killing is a legitimate action to take against a threat then anyone, whether it be an individual or an institution, can be incentivised to kill as a first resort. bruce understands the complicated nature of crime and why it occurs. he understands community and the importance of social support, and how human connection will save lives. he never wants anyone to feel the pain he felt in that alley ever again.

he’s a detective who mistrusts the police and actively works against them. combat and physical violence aren’t what drive him, it’s an unfortunate consequence of opposing corruption. if he can save a child instead of throwing a punch, he’ll do it. if he can talk someone off a ledge, he’ll make the time. he can’t unknot his own heart, but he still tries. it hurts, but he tries.

bruce’s purposeful disconnection from others out of fear of losing them is driven by selfish desire, because he is (deep down and hidden away) a profoundly loving person who believes everyone deserves a chance. this is shown in how he raised his kids — he’ll smother them to protect them while forcing himself to hold them at arms distance. when they reflect his worst habits back at him, he’s horrified. he’s objectively a bad parent. no one else should let him adopt more children. he saved dick grayson and jason todd and cass cain and tim drake. many things can be true at once.

the interpretation of him as either a brooding, violent asshole with no redeeming qualities OR a somewhat pugnacious but ultimately emotionally mature father figure both miss the point of bruce wayne’s primary motivation, being that he is still in crime alley as an eight year old, kneeling in the ground amid the pearls, and he has not moved in thirty years. he can’t leave, because if he leaves then who will be there to guide the next dick grayson, the next cass, out from those shadows and into the light? he is anchored by his own weight. so much of what he does comes from a need for control, a hyper fixation on predicting the outcome, if preventing the worst case scenario before it happens. the rest of it is love in motion.

#this is an extremely sympathic view of bruce wayne because if i see one more pro fascist batman post im going to McLose it #bruce Wayne #batman #batfamily #dc comics #the ask and the answer #batfam

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rootbeersturniolo · 1 month

Text

the first part of this series.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: the new semester at chicago university started with nothing more than the troubles of relationships, rumors, and studies. everything was going fine until the death of their bestfriend. at the end of the day there’s only one question they can ask; would you love somebody enough to kill for them?

warnings: mentions of death and murder, alcohol, drinking, semi public smut, homophobia, assault.

Chicago, Illinois. The place I’ve been living in for the past nineteen years. Most people look at our city as a tourist attraction. The scenery catching many visitors eyes as they stopped through the states of the northeast.

What made it so interesting? I wouldn't know. There was much beauty to the actual city, I'll admit that, but there was more mystery under the rooted trees of Illinois.

My life in Chicago was something I’ve grown comfortable with, almost like a routine.

Walking back from school with my best friends while the wind entangled our hair, a group of people I cherished with every fibre of my being.

I met Natalie first, she was one of the popular girls in our elementary school and I was… not. But one day she asked me to color with her and she’s been stuck by my side since, like sisters.

We argued occasionally, like sisters did, but other than that we’ve been close ever since. We’ve made it through middle school, high school, and now we were attending college together, along with the a few other members of our group.

Through Natalie I met Jackson, yet another person who I considered to be too popular for my presence, but somehow the dynamic worked.

The two of them have been on and off since freshman year of high school. Though, no matter how much they went through they always ended up together again. No amount of tears would stop that.

Nobody even considered what they had to be a relationship. Most wouldn’t even consider it love. They loved each other obviously, they’d known each other for so long. But they’ve never been in love, but in lust instead.

It was not a relationship I ever aspired for.

When I was left to play by myself at recess, Nick had approached me, his atmosphere was immediately welcoming and we became swing buddies for the rest of middle school—Even when it was considered childish.

Nick was someone I could tell everything to, there was never judgement between the two of us and it was always comfortable, safe.

Clicking with Nicks brother Chris was easy, him and I were practically the same person and we shared so many similar thought processes. It was like a brother-sister dynamic, sure, there was bickering and teasing, but at the end of the day I knew he’d be there for me. His words of affirmation got me through high school, but for a while Matt was just sort of… there.

He was never one to start a conversation, even getting him to actively participate in one was a stretch. He was reserved and mainly kept to himself. I didn’t mind though, because when he did speak it was sweet.

Our dynamic started to change our junior year of highschool. Through raging hormones, and the fact we were always together, it was inevitable that our friendship would soon change.

Now we’d been together for two years. The best two years of my life.

Matt was my first boyfriend, and he was the perfect example of how every boyfriend should be. He was loving, caring, and would do anything for me. I’ll never forget the day that changed everything.

“Chris! What are you doing?” Nick asked, visibly annoyed at his brother’s actions. Chris just rolled his eyes in response. “It’s a small bite Nick calm down, you’re acting like I ate the whole thing.”

Nick scoffed. “Have you heard of asking? Last time I checked we weren’t obligated to share food since we were in the womb thirteen years ago.” He rolled his eyes.

“Hey guys—” Matt started speaking from beside me, not getting far before his brother interrupted him. Like usual.

“It’s ice cream Nick, not gold.” Chris replied as he takes another bite of his own fro yo, clearly not understanding or caring for his brother’s frustrated reaction.

Our group had decided to bike to the local ice cream diner on the warm summer day, especially because those days aren’t common in Chicago.

“Guys let’s—” Matt’s cut off yet again, even after raising the volume behind his voice. I look to him briefly, not wanting to stare but also feeling bad for the boy.

The rest of the group eventually continues their conversation, not even acknowledging Matt or his attempts to speak and it’s clear he’s defeated—his head laying low as he mumbled something to himself.

I felt a slight sting to my heart looking at him like that, it wouldn’t feel right to join in with the rest of the group. “Hey Matt?”

His head perked up, he made eye contact with me as a slight glimmer of hope re entered his face. “Yeah Charlotte?” He asked.

I smile, him and I aren’t close, but for whatever reason seeing him happy made me happy. “What were you trying to say earlier?”

Ever since that simple summer day, getting ice cream with the group, Matt and I had a newfound understanding for one another.

He wasn’t always listened to, getting caught behind his over achieving brothers in almost every aspect of his life, but I would always be there to tell him that he’s doing enough—that he is enough.

This wasn’t a one sided thing though, I had often struggled with surges of sadness. There wasn’t always a reason but it could easily get to a point where I’d lose all motivation for everything and feel incredibly helpless—and maybe I was a little helpless, but I always had Matt there to try to help and that’s what stuck with me.

He’d clean my room if it felt too overwhelming to complete, or just sit in silence next to me when I didn’t have it in me to speak to him. It’s a mutual relationship that’s carried by balance on both ends and it works for us.

This general understanding of one another has made us… close.

“Mm— fuck just like that.” I let out a muffled moan as my eyes rolled into the back of my head, a familiar hand covering my mouth as our bodies moved in a rhythm that suits us.

My leg begins to ache slightly as it’s propped up on a toilet seat, but it’s impossible to focus on anything when Matt’s thrusting his hips into me at a pace I can’t stay quiet in—one hand is placed gently on my lower stomach as leverage for him to thrust impossibly deeper into me while his other hand holds a firm pressure on my swollen lips, keeping me silent.

Public sex was not something on my bucket list, but the combination of my boyfriend's neediness and my inability to focus on anything other than his hands… it was kind of inevitable.

“Stay quiet baby, cmon.” He speaks quietly, clearly fighting back moans of his own as his tip continually makes contact with my g-spot, the angle only making the feeling more intense.

One thing about a quickie is that it needs to be quick, the loud music pouring through the hinges of the door serving as a constant reminder that we aren’t entirely alone.

I’m unable to speak fully, but Matt knows me well enough to know I’m close by the way my back arches away from him and my toes curl slightly onto the seat.

He also knows exactly what it takes for me to finish quick.

The boys lips make gentle contact with my exposed neck, sucking at a spot he’s grown comfortable with while his hand on my lower stomach inches even lower. “You gonna cum for me here? Getting fucked senseless in a public bathroom turn you on?” He asks.

Once again I’m unable to reply, if I speak, I moan—and that’s the last thing we need with our whole friend group out in the living room, oblivious to our current position.

His fingers make a light contact with my throbbing clit, causing my head to fall back into his shoulder as my body shutters at the touch. Subconsciously I clench onto him, nearing my orgasam already, what’s unfortunate is that he’s unable to mask the moan that escapes his lips.

I love his noises, always have—but right now? I wish the fucker would shut the hell up.

He looked at me with an apology riddled in his blue eyes, and it’s hard not to forgive him with his fingers that pick up the pace on my clit and his hips that continue to slam into my walls.

Definitely forgiven.

I grab on the sink in front of me to stabilize myself, my orgasam still threatening to release onto the length inside of me, my mouth widening at the sensation coursing through my body. He leans in to whisper into my ear once more. “Can you be quiet cumming on my cock pretty girl?”

I nod almost too enthusiastically as the build up in my stomach becomes too overwhelming to ignore, squeezing my eyes shut and biting my lip, trying so desperately to stay quiet—although with Matt’s slip up, it might be a lost cause.

My abs clench as shocks of pleasure shoot through my muscles, the feelings of Matt’s chest pressed against my back has me smiling at the closeness of it all, the small amount of intimacy that can come with a bathroom quickie.

He finishes practically right after me. He also got off knowing how good he made me feel, that was his favorite part.

With one more kiss planted on my temple he pulls out, discarding the condom in the small trashcan while I slide my pants back on, pulling down my shirt slightly to fully cover myself again.

We look to each other once more, mentally preparing ourselves for the walk of shame, knowing Matt’s loud ass will be teased by our friends awaiting our return. I place a finger on his chest. “This is your fault Matthew just letting you know.” He smiles slightly before opening the door and walking out to the slightly less crowded living room.

Our friend group resides in the living room, sprawled around the floor and the couch, most of them at least five drinks in.

Matt’s hand stayed interlocked with mine as we occupied our recent position on the couch beside the window cill littered with our old drinks.

I knew someone was going to mention something regarding Matt and I’s disappearance to the bathroom, but the last thing I needed was the recently found annoying voice from across the room to bring it up.

“Did you two have fun?” Natalie asked, raising her eyebrow as she leaned further against her seat. I rolled my eyes before shaking my head, taking my previous cup from the window.

She clearly sensed my annoyance, but she was drunk, and she was also Natalie which meant she didn’t care enough to move on.

“Better than doing it with Collin’s in there.” She chuckled lightly, her flushed cheeks turning into a smile as she ran her fingers throughout her dirty blonde locks.

My grip on Matt’s hand tightened out of pure frustration and embarrassment. At a party full of half of our class, and this is what she wanted to talk about. The rumor had been spreading like wildfire, and there was only one person to blame.

Natalie.

Her recent inquiries and speculations over me hooking up with our professor for extra credit instead of just doing the work myself.

"We've all been there before, there's no shame." Natalie shrugged as she brought the red solo cups to her matching red lips. Her eyes were heavy and her words were slow, more relaxed than her usual personality.

l let out a soft sigh as my gaze traced towards her.

This wasn't the night I wanted to talk about anything regarding Natalie's theories about my personal life. Even though they were obviously wrong, and everyone else could vouch for that.

She looked at me with her drunken eyes, her expression screaming I don't believe you as she took another drink.

"I don't blame you, he's hot."

"You're just getting ridiculous." I finally snapped, my jaw slightly clenched as I turned to her once more. Suddenly the attention was only on me. She furrowed her eyebrows in surprise. "Do you have anything better to do?” I shook my head.

It was becoming hard to pretend that her constant comments weren't driving me crazy. Even if I knew that they shouldn't, and even if I knew that what she was saying was just her own personal beliefs.

The room quickly turned silent as my eyes remained on Natalie. Her cheeks flushed red. Either from the alcohol or being put on the spot for the first time in her life.

"Excuse me?" She replied, setting down her drink as a soft laugh left her lips. I let out a frustrated breath before pushing myself from the couch, letting my feet take me as far away from her as possible. Even if that was just the kitchen.

I placed my hands on the counter, taking a deep breath as the crowd pushed around me, pouring endless combinations of beverages into their recycled red cups.

Only a few moments had passed before a pair of ringed hands came in contact with my waist. I let out a muffled sigh as Matt turned me around, my face coming in contact with his. He smiled gently, running his hands along my hipbone.

"You ok?" He mumbled, scanning my face as I rolled my eyes with a shrug. I crossed my arms over my chest before I finally nodded. "I'm fine, she's drunk." I replied.

“Doesn’t mean she’s not annoying you.” He replied, his cold rings continuing to glide along my hips as his eyes stay fixated on my own.

He’s right of course, Natalie became more and more annoying as time went on, her inflated self esteem made it impossible to be around her sometimes—but she’s still apart of the group that stays rooted in middle school friendships.

“I’m just sick of the shit.” I pause, taking a quick swig of whatever random substance resides on the counter next to me. “But professor Collin’s? Really?” I sighed.

He frowned gently, pushing a strand of hair behind my face as he continued to look down at me. His eyes had been slightly glazed over from the alcohol mixed with our recent events.

“I don’t love the way he talks to you.” He said, quietly enough to avoid anyone overhearing this conversation. The rumor was already spread, no need to continue to slander my name.

I roll my eyes. “He’s a nice guy with a wife and kids. I don’t think he’s an actual weirdo he just…” I paused my words. “He chooses the wrong way to say things sometimes”

“He also wants to get in your pants.” He blurts out slightly.

I can’t be bothered to continue this conversation anymore, we’ve talked about it before but I stand by the innocence of the teacher-student dynamic I share with my professor. “He’s not the only one.” I tease, pulling Matt closer to me by the loops on him jeans, his hips connecting with my own.

“Ok, weirdo we get it.” He shakes his head, a smile plastered on his face. “Why don’t we go back to the bathroom?” I asked, a faux frown plastered on my face as I tugged him impossibly closer. Our bodies pressed together.

He hummed in response before gesturing to our friends back on the couch. “They might think we’re ditching them.” He breathed out, his hands running along my hips.

“I’m okay with that.” I shrugged, a smile taking over my face as my gaze remained on Matt. He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. “Wait until I can treat you right on a real bed, make it worth your while.” He joked.

“I enjoyed it.”

“I did too.” He assured, nodding gently. “But it’s too risky to go back.” He spoke with a raised brow. It was true, it was definitely risky, but it was also so worth it.

Another sigh escaped my lips as I let go off his denim loops, wrapping my arms around my chest. He returned the sigh.

“Hey.” He breathed out, taking my hand off of my chest and interlocking them. “Don’t be mad at me.” He spoke, raising his eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, starting to speak again before hearing a crash in the living room behind us. I furrowed my eyebrows, letting go of Matt’s hand as I walked from the kitchen towards the noise.

My eyes widened as I saw Bryce on the floor, the familiar boy Josh on top of him, continuing to swing punches like that was all he could do. Matt stood next to me, a heavy breath leaving his lips before rushing forward.

Bryce Reyes was Nicks boyfriend. They’d been together for exactly three months now, and he was one of the best and only additions to our group in a long time.

Always a light to our constant chaotic mess of a group, his smile providing a sense of calm to everyone, especially to Nick. It’s why we all like him so much, anyone Nick likes we like.

Natalie stood from the couch, drunken words leaving her slips as everyone watched the scene unfold in front of them.

“You like fucking boys?” Josh asked before his fists collided with his cheekbone again. The blood on his face was getting more visible by the minute, a panicked Nick stood in the corner of the room. The party went silent.

“Enough—” Matt yelled, placing his hands on Josh’s shoulders, attempting to pull him off of Bryce before he himself was pushed back. My heart raced in my chest.

Matt stood from the ground, frustration on his features as he tried to breakup the fight once more, but nobody paid any attention to him, still focused on the terrifying scene unraveling.

“You’re pathetic.” Josh scoffed, his hands tightening around the collar of Bryce’s shirt, pulling him from the ground.

“He said enough!” Jackson spoke, successfully pulling Josh off of Bryce who laid against the carpet with more than just a bloody nose. His hair was a mess, his eye was already bruising, and he looked like he had been found at the scene of a crime.

His actions were successful, Josh standing up before wiping his own bloody nose, a slight smirk pulling his the side of his mouth. Nick rushed toward Bryce’s side as the party slowly started to resume once again.

I glanced toward my side, a purely pissed off Matt standing with his jaw clenched. It was obvious why he was upset. No one listened to him. He shook his head before turning on his heel.

“Matt, where are you going?” I frowned, taking a step forward but he had already rushed toward the doors of the party. There was no point to try and run after him, he would push me away like he had been recently.

I sighed, running my hands through my hair. I needed to let Matt cool off, and I was fine doing that as long as I knew he was safe.

“Don’t stress.” Chris spoke, walking beside me as he held an empty bottle of vodka, clearly starting to cleanup the mess. “He always comes back.” He shrugged before walking past me.

Chris was my bestfriend, practically my closest, and I loved him. But sometimes I wish he paid more attention to his brother.

It hurt me to see him hurt.

My arms slumped against the wooden desk as I groaned lightly, the slight hangover behind my head. The fluorescent lights of the classroom hadn’t been helping either.

I had returned back to my dorm soon after. I hadn’t heard from Matt since, so seeing him for the first time in class was making me more nervous than I should.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was mad at me for not running after him— I was just trying to help. But then again that’s usually where I seem to go wrong.

The only thing I did know was that Natalie hadn’t returned last night. My only assumption could be that she snuck off with Jackson after the party, and she was still intertwined against his body popping a bottle of pain killers or whatever else it is she does.

They had gotten back together one month ago after their two week separation period. The last time I had seen her she was drooling over him with a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Have you seen Natalie?” I asked Chris, furrowing my eyebrows with a soft sigh as I glanced around the room. There was still no trace of her, and the silence filling the air could prove it.

The early mornings of Professor Collin’s American history course were usually filled with recent gossip, and constant giggling.

Today it was silent.

And it was suffocating.

Chris shook his head with a soft shrug before taking his notebook from his bag, turning the pages as the desk beside me soon became occupied. I looked over to see Matt with an undeniable smile crossing over my face as he turned to me.

“You ok?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. He nodded quickly, returning the smile before taking his supplies out as well. I didn’t question him, instead nodding before our professor walked in, his eyes instantly finding mine.

He gave me the usual flustered smile before walking to his desk, turning the projector and preparing for the lecture.

I didn’t mind history, I actually enjoyed it. Though sometimes it got frustrating when my professor couldn’t find the right words to express how well I did on my recent assignment.

The class went by slow. Two hours of endless notes and timelines that I wouldn’t remember by the next day.

“One last question to wrap this up.” Professor Collin’s spoke, an amused smile on his face before his eyes turned to me. “You can answer, right?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

I furrowed my eyebrow, sighing gently before looking down at my half assed noted. Instead of denying I simply nodded.

“Great!” He exclaimed, walking over toward me as his arms crossed over his chest. “During which war was a Christmas Truce called?” He asked. I took a deep breath, glancing down to my notes before scrunching my face in confusion.

“We didn’t learn that.” I shook my head. He nodded slowly before walking away from my desk. “We didn’t, but we did in my other history class. Which I think you would be interested in.” He spoke again. I sighed.

“I don’t have the time.” I replied, nodding slowly as I tried to change the conversation. The last thing I needed after last night was even more rumors circulating.

Especially when my boyfriend is beside me.

The professor frowned gently, clearly causing a scene in front of the entire class “Come on, you can’t drop one class— for me?” He asked. My eyes widened in embarrassment.

I didn’t respond, instead shaking my head as I swallowed my nerves. I could feel Matt’s eyes against my head like lasers.

“That’s ok.” He sighed again, before turning to the clock on the wall. “Class is over anyway.” He mumbled before sitting in his desk once more. I let out a breath of relief before standing up, sliding my books into my bag as quickly as possible before turning through the door.

My book bag was tightly pressed against my shoulders as I walked along the sidewalk of our campus. My eyes people watched with every step I took back to my dorm.

One of my favorite parts about our University was the variety of people that attended. Endless opportunities to make new friends, but for some reason I’ve had the same ones for years.

“Wait up!” A familiar voice called from behind me. I quickly turned around, my expression relaxing once I saw it was only Matt. He gave me a soft smile before running toward me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead before walking beside me.

“Let’s do something later.” He suggested as he interlaced our hands together. I liked when he didn’t mention the obvious.

“I can’t, I have to study.” I spoke with a soft sigh, frowning gently as he swung our arms back and forth. He chuckled lightly. “You’d rather study than see me?” He asked.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. He was so stubborn sometimes. So prone to take everything out of context just to get a kick out of me.

“That isn’t what I said.” I replied as we continued to walk throughout the campus. He shrugged, our arms still swinging in the air. “Then have me over. I’ll help you study.” He spoke.

Another sigh escaped my lips. I wanted to see Matt, I really did, but Natalie would be back at some point tonight.

I also really did have to study.

There wasn’t a response from me, instead simple silence as we approached the building. I turned to him with a raised brow, an amused smirk creeping on his face. “So it’s a yes?”

“Fine.” I sighed, rolling my eyes as he smiled down at me. It was so hard to say no to someone with a smile like that.

“You know I love you, right?” Matt asked, playing with the lace fabric of my shirt as I read the book in front of me. Our bodies were intertwined as my back rested against his chest.

I furrowed my eyebrows before nodding, placing my bookmark in between the pages before closing my book. I turned around so I was facing him, my legs over his.

“I know.” I smiled gently, scanning his face with a worried expression. “Why?” I asked, the obvious confusion present in my time. He didn’t reply instead his cheeks filling red before he pulled me closer to him by my waist.

He brought his lips against mine, his hands moving up my sides. I almost melted into his touch instantly, but I wanted an answer.

I pulled away from him, a frown replacing his one blushed expression. “What?” He mumbled, sliding his hand under my shirt gently, letting it rest against the fabric of my jeans.

“Why’d you say that?” I asked, raising my eyebrow as I looked down at him. He shrugged before laughing lightly. “I just wanted to remind you.” He nodded. My eyebrows furrowed.

For whatever reason it felt as though he cut off his own thoughts, but our dynamic worked because I don’t pry, so I’m not going to start now.

He leans in once more, presumably to stop me from asking more questions, but it was easy to get distracted when kissing him.

My hands make their way to his hair, scratching slightly on the back of his head in the way i know always makes him shiver.

Unfortunately, being the boy that he is, he takes this as a sign to begin lifting up my shirt, pulling the fabric up on my back exposing the back of my bra.

“Ok lover boy.” I pull back out of the kiss. “As much as I’d love to continue this I do have to study and you are meant to help me.” I sighed, placing a finger on his chest as I’ve fully leaned away.

He lets out an overdramatic sigh, faking a frown as I pull myself off of him. “If I fail this lit course it will be your fault.” I say, refocusing my attention on the numerous notes displayed in front of me.

“Yeah yeah I get it. Be studious.” Matt sits up, leaning against me as I sort through all the papers that remain unorganized. “What’s this test worth again?” He asks as, resting his chin on my shoulder, his breath on my neck causing a slight chill down my spine.

“It’s like fifteen percent I think but—” I get cut off by the sound of my phone ringing, my mom’s profile picture lighting up the screen.

My relationship with my parents was complicated. I was raised by two workaholics who would rather solve numerous crimes than drive their daughter to her first ballet recital.

I respect it, obviously, but Chicago will always have crime. They do great things and they help people, I just wish it didn’t come at the expense of my childhood.

The phone doesn’t ring for long when I finally pick it up, a smile on my face. “Hey mom what’s up?” I asked, looking at Matt who has a stupid innocent smirk on his face.

As embarrassing as it might be to admit, I was excited my mom was calling me because at least, even if she was out at work, she was still talking to me. I loved talking to my mom—when she wasn’t swamped with cases that is.

“Char sweetie, It’s about Natalie.” She spoke with a tone that terrifies me, one that’s both serious yet cautious—something I wasn’t expecting when answering.

“What’s up? Everything okay?” My eyebrows furrowed, I’m sure Natalie’s fine, she always is. I would place money on her being at Jackson’s place right now with a killer hangover and a dead phone.

“Are you alone right now?” My mom finally asked, causing a sense of worry to course through my stomach. My face must show how i’m feeling because Matt adapts the same expression, one of worry.

“I’m uh, I’m with Matt right now. Are you sure everything’s okay?” I asked, worry fueling my voice as I await a respond.

“Natalie was murdered.”

You know when people say that certain phrases or experiences can freeze time? This was mine.

The rest of the call was a blur, my mom telling me to seek comfort in Matt because she’s swamped with this case, but really I just wanted to hug her, I wanted to hug my mom and have her tell me everything’s okay.

Death is weird. One second, someone’s there. Annoying or not they are there and that feels constant—until it isn’t.

I could find Natalie annoying all I want, and I could continue to be upset over a dumb rumor, but she was family to me, possibly the closest I ever had.

When I hang up the phone I freeze, eyes situated on the sight ahead of me as my brain tries to process this, tears traveling down my cheeks before I can fully comprehend this situation at hand.

Matt gently places his hand on my upper back and the contact was enough to send me over the edge, the build up in my stomach releasing and sobs exiting my mouth. “It’s okay baby It’s okay.”

He doesn’t even know why I’m crying, I doubt he heard the phone but he’s still here for me regardless. “She’s gone Matt, they said she was—” I choke, trying to gain composure for the boy. “She was murdered.”

I’m simply a mess, my stomach hurts from the muscles tensing at each sob I let out. Matt’s hand just rubs soft strokes on my back as my head falls into his lap.

She’s gone and the last thing I did was bitch her out. I can’t get that night back.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: sincerely, sienna and grace

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luminoustarlight · 7 months

Text

Practice | Anakin Skywalker

Playing with Anakin's hair leads to you practicing your dominant side.

rating: explicit | pairing: anakin skywalker x afab!reader | wc: 2.4k | read on ao3 warnings: fluff, SMUT [sub!ani, dom!reader (she's trying), blow jobs, ball sucking, ball/cock worship, p in v, creampie, inappropriate use of the force], ani comforting reader at the end <3

this is dedicated to my bestie who was talking about Anakin's fluffy hair and said "ugh make a fic where reader plays with his hair and it turns him on"

so... here you go :)

On any given night, when Anakin isn’t on a mission, it’s very likely he’s at your apartment. It’s too risky having you over at the Temple and his living quarters aren’t very spacious anyway. Anakin always says he feels most at home in your apartment. But it has nothing to do with where he’s at, it has everything to do with where you are.

Now both relaxing on the couch after dinner, Anakin’s head is in your lap while you watch Pod Racing on the HoloTV. “D’you miss it?”

“What?” Anakin mumbles.

“Pod racing.” You begin combing your fingers through Anakin’s hair, getting any knots and tangles out of the waves.

“Mmm,” he hums in contentment. “Sometimes. I don’t miss Tatooine…”

“Or the sand,” you both say.

Anakin smiles. “You know me so well.”

“It’s not like you hide your hatred for sand, Ani.” You roll your eyes and tug at Anakin’s roots to tease him.

A visceral groan erupts from Anakin’s throat, which he quickly “covers up” with a cough. “Mhm, yeah, I know.”

“You okay there, baby?” Your voice is as sweet as cinnamon— warm with a hint of spice. You know exactly how Anakin gets when you pull on his hair during sex. It drives him insane and normally drives his cock deeper and harder into your cunt. But you have other plans for him tonight.

Your nails dragging down his scalp are hypnotizing. Each time you reach the nape of his neck, you pull. It earns you a suppressed moan every time. Anakin is yanking at the material of his pants, already beginning to feel the uncomfortable tightness your touch always brings him. He thinks he’s being so discrete, pointing at the HoloTV, mumbling something about the race while adjusting his hard-on in his pants.

“What’s the matter, honey? You getting hard just from me playing with your hair?” Your taunting voice doesn’t come out often but when it does, a different kind of desire stirs inside of Anakin. He welcomes your dominant side, even when he’s still working on being submissive.

His dick is already throbbing so yes, he absolutely did get hard from you playing with his hair. “Ngh, yes.”

With a fistful of his hair in your hand, you yank Anakin’s head so his eyes meet yours. He doesn’t quiet his moan this time. His receptiveness to your actions fills you with pride. You are the one he gives control to. You are the one who makes him vulnerable, needy, and eager for your touch. “Are you going to be a good boy tonight?”

Anakin swallows. “Yes.”

“Sit up,” you command. As Anakin lifts himself from your lap and his back is against the couch cushion, you get off the couch and settle between Anakin’s legs. “I might be on my knees for you but make no mistake, Anakin. I am in control tonight. No touching until I say it’s okay. Do you understand?”

Maker. Anakin is burning for you. His cock jumps with anticipation, a wet stain of pre-cum seeping through not just his underwear, but his pants, too. With your tone and your commanding eyes, Anakin can’t help but fully submit. “Yes, I understand.”

Oh, how his complacency makes your cunt ache. You rest your hands over Anakin’s strong thighs and he tenses under your touch. “Good,” you say, beginning a line of kisses on his leg. It’s a painfully slow path up to Anakin’s crotch. He’s sitting on his hands to keep from touching you, meager little whimpers falling from those pretty lips of his. When your mouth finally presses a firm kiss over his clothed length, Anakin can’t help but groan.

“Please,” he begs. He wants to touch you, he wants your mouth, he wants anything more than just you kissing his cock with two layers of fabric between you. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think through the pain in his groin. “Please, baby, please.”

“Hmm?” you hum against him, sending a shrill of vibrations from Anakin’s cock down to his toes. You lay your head on his thigh, blinking up at him with fake oblivion. “Did you want something?”

“You know I do,” Anakin answers frustratedly. Being a sub is hard for him sometimes. Okay, most of the time. But he tries for you and you appreciate it. He just needs to be put back in his place every now and again.

You lift your head and frown, completely withdrawing your body from him as you stand. “Now, that’s no way to ask for something. I don’t think you deserve my mouth.”

Anakin’s attitude immediately changes. He straightens his back before beginning his lament. “No, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, angel. Please put your mouth on my cock.”

“How badly do you want it?”

Anakin groans, pulling at his pants again. “So badly, baby. Maker, I need your mouth or your hand— please. I’ll be good.”

“Take off your pants, Ani.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, Anakin is fumbling with his waistband and removing his pants with haste. He’s so eager and careless, it almost makes you laugh. This desperate man is a far cry from the commanding General of the 501st. If only those boys could see General Skywalker now. Completely helpless and begging for you to pleasure him.

With his cock free from its confinement, a small wave of relief washes over Anakin. You appease him, placing your hands back on his thighs and dragging the flat of your tongue along the underside of his dick. Anakin immediately moans beneath you. Each kiss you place on his length leaves Anakin in shambles. He’s so bloody impatient. He hates when you tease him but he knows it’s just you giving him a taste of his own medicine. Because he is the master of teasing.

Still only using your mouth, you swirl your tongue over his leaking tip, nose brushing against his happy trail. You flick your tongue over his slit, which always makes him go crazy. He reactively bucks his hips up but you remove your mouth. Pinching his thighs, you scold him. “None of that. Be patient, Ani.”

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, cheek tucking into his shoulder. “Jus’ feels so good.”

“I know, Ani.” You grab the base of him now, taking a moment to marvel at how your fingers don’t wrap all the way around him. You stroke him thoughtfully and languidly, Anakin throws his head back over the constant pleasure you’re finally rewarding him.

You tilt his cock to the side, nestling your nose between the space where firmness ends and softness begins. Anakin sucks in a breath. He always forgets how sensitive he is down there. With your hand still working up and down his cock, you draw your tongue over the top of his velvety sack. You’re helpless to your own infatuation with him. You can’t help but breathe deeply, storing the strong and comforting scent of his musk in your memory for the weeks when you’re apart. Encompassed with the urge to have even more of him, you open your mouth. The heavy weight of one of his balls rests on your tongue, earning you a lovely little “fuck,” from under Anakin’s breath.

Your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, spreading the never-ending ooze of pre-cum around and down his length. You hollow your cheeks before releasing him with a pop. You press an open-mouthed kiss to the other side because they both need an equal amount of attention. You flatten your tongue around the curve of him, molding your mouth to the shape of his balls. With his entire sack now in your mouth, Anakin is helpless and you, too, feel the need to be filled. He’s squirming and mumbling your praise. Thank you, Maker, that feels so good, and fuck, sweetheart.

You release his fruit from your mouth, only to continue kissing him. There’s no part of his balls that goes untouched. Your tugs on his cock become lazier and sloppier as you focus all of your attention on his sack. The softness of the papery skin, the salty, musky taste, the overwhelming weight of them on your tongue. Your unabashed appreciation for his nature stirs something primal in Anakin.

“Hmph- fuck.” Anakin forgets your instructions and touches your hair, pushing it out of your face. He’s too drunk on your mouth and your hand to remember anything you said before worshiping his balls. “Angel, please, can I fuck you?”

You look up at Anakin with foggy eyes, practically intoxicated with his scent. You remove your hand from his dick to take off your shirt and pants. “No, Ani. You don’t get to fuck me. But I will ride your cock. Off,” you gesture to his loose tunic. Anakin nods and removes the last of his clothing.

Once you’re standing bare in front of him, his length lurches toward you. His heart never ceases to race when he sees the entire beauty of your body displayed in front of him. You are pure art.

You straddle his lap, resting your hands on his broad shoulders for support. His dick lays between your wet seam and you begin to grind. You brush Anakin’s hair out of his face, tucking the curls behind his ears. You lean down to give him a soft kiss. “You can touch me, Ani.”

Like a shot, Anakin’s hands are around your waist, aiding in your movements over his cock. The friction against your clit sends you ablaze. Anakin drops his lips to your collarbone, leaving butterfly kisses until he reaches the center of your clavicle. He then kisses up your neck and over your jaw, crooning against you, heavy breaths tickling your skin. You slip your hand between the two of you to guide him into your cunt. As your warm walls envelop his tip, you hold there for one, two, three seconds before slowly sinking down on him.

“Shit, baby-”

You want to whimper at the stretch and sigh at the fullness so they come out as one pleading noise. Finally, Anakin thinks. Your demeanor has shifted. But then you’re rocking yourself on him, fingers twirling around the ends of his hair and there you go pulling again. Anakin groans your name, gripping your hips with a bruising strength.

You tug his head to the side, his roots stinging with a little pain and a lot of pleasure. It’s your turn to kiss his neck, although you’re nowhere near as gentle. You capture his skin between your teeth and suck before soothing your tongue over the reddening skin. You raise your hips up so his length is nearly at your entrance and pause once again to admire your boy. His blue eyes are dark in the dim light, his golden tan skin is flush with sweat, and you could just melt because he’s so damn pretty.

You sit back down on his cock with a loud slap when your thighs hit each other. “Yes, Ani! Ngh, your cock feels so good. Y’make me feel so good, baby.” Anakin helps guide you up and down, taking the pressure off of you to continue at such a pace. You drop your head down to his shoulder and he can tell you’re getting tired. He wraps his arms around you and flips you down onto the couch. He wastes no time taking advantage of your pliant body, pushing your legs apart with both hands while he thrusts into you. The burn of your muscles being stretched is overpowered by the invisible touch on your clit.

Your head rolls along the cushion and a weak whimper falls from your lips. “Gods, Anakin. You know I- fuck-” the Force pressure on your bundle of nerves coupled with Anakin’s hard thrusts makes every thought you have scramble together. “S’unfair… when you—” your orgasm is nearing its ascent. Anakin is no longer holding your legs down and instead cages your head between his arms. He nuzzles his nose against yours, kissing your cheek and the corner of your mouth.

“I know,” Anakin smirks. “You hate it when I use the Force on you to make you feel good. But I know you’re about to cum. Your cunt’s squeezing my cock like crazy, baby. Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck,” you whimper. How did the tables turn so quickly? Were you not the one who was in control? How did you lose your air of dominance in one fell swoop? You’re disappointed in yourself but it doesn’t matter. Not when your orgasm ripples through you and your back arches off of the couch. Not when Anakin continues to roll his hips into you, working you through your orgasm with his flesh hand now on your clit, easily ripping another one from you before you even have a chance to come down from the first. The pleasure meshes together into one dizzying spell, leaving you to chant Anakin’s name over and over.

“Music to my ears, baby,” Anakin groans, spurts of his warm seed spilling inside of you. He kisses you tenderly while stroking the bottom half of his cock to release his cum. When he draws himself from you, he pushes whatever is leaking out, back inside of you. “Stay.”

What remains on his fingers is taken into your mouth. You wrap your hand around his wrist and moan around him, savoring the salty and tanginess of his seed. Your eyes look strikingly innocent for someone who is sucking cum off of his fingers. Maker, he’s going to get worked up again. “That’s enough.” Anakin removes his fingers from you. You know he’s going to retrieve a warm cloth to clean you up, but you catch his hand.

“Ani?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He sees the disappointment across your face and sits down. He grabs the woven blanket on the back of the couch and lays it over you.

“Why…” you pause. Ugh, you hate this. “Why can I never stay dominant the whole time?”

Anakin rubs his thumb over your knee and sighs. He hates seeing you upset with yourself. You did nothing wrong. You might think you failed, but everything takes practice. “I think you can, baby. But many different things go into this. Not just the mentality, but the stamina. You get tired easier. I can’t blame you, though. Riding this dick can’t be easy.”

That makes you crack a smile. “Shut up,” you kick him playfully. “I’m being serious.”

“I know,” Anakin raises his hands in defense. “We just have to practice, sweetheart. That’s all. But honestly, baby? I just think you like to be taken care of more. And that’s okay.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want me to… be different?”

Anakin almost seems insulted with that question. He leans down to give you a reassuring kiss. “Never. I love you just the way you are.”

i hope you enjoyed the ending and weren't disappointed by it. i promise i'll try to write a totally dom!reader and sub!ani fic. emphasis on try.

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#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #sub!anakin #sub!anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x f!reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x afab!reader

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screamforyani · 11 months

Note

hello!! i wanted to say that i really love your writing!!

and i also wanted to share one of my thought about gf!ethan making you play the nastiest game ever, him threatening that if you don’t do what he wants (in a sexual way) he’ll kill one of your friend!

have a nice day!!🤍

ultimatum

warnings: noncon to dubcon, ghostface phonecall kinda, no original thoughts because i completely ripped this off from scream 5

wc. 1.6k

you hated being alone on friday nights, because you were always bored.

usually, tara would have dragged you out to some party with her that sam could never know she went to, but she was busy with her boytoy tonight.

boring. or maybe it was because you were slightly jealous. at least one of us are getting some action tonight, you thought.

you grabbed your phone, deciding to text tara anyways. not that you thought she would respond. when chad was in the room with her, your best friend had a one-track mind.

you: i’m sooooooooo bored

you: tell chadwick you have a very angry best friend who owns a plastic machete and a very heavy ceiling fan

you: i will unscrew the ceiling fan.

just as you put your phone down to get up and grab some yogurt, you heard it start to vibrate on your coffee table. you furrowed your brows. that was quick. chad must have been in the bathroom or something.

you picked it up, answering lightheartedly, “tara, you monster. i can’t believe you left me all alone.”

“it’s not tara.”

you arched a brow. that voice was a hell of a lot deeper, definitely not your best friend’s snarky tone. “chad?”

the person on the other line chuckled. “wrong again. come on, try one more time.”

that was when the familiarity of the voice dawned on you. you’d seen a couple of stab movies before and those cliches were coming back to you. your heart raced a little faster, wondering if this was some prank, but chad and tara wouldn’t do that. “you’re the killer.”

“see, i knew you could do it,” said the killer on the phone, almost sounding excited.

you were rooted in place, hissing, “what did you do with tara and chad?”

“oh, nothing. they’re fine. for now,” he said ominously, unnerving you completely. “but they won’t be if you don’t do what i want.”

“what do you want?” you asked, bringing the phone from your ear to put the call on speaker so that you could text sam.

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you,” he warned.

you paused, glancing around. “you can fucking see me right now?”

“of course i can. those cameras in your living room aren’t doing you justice right now. i’m sure you look even better in person. whose t-shirt are you wearing? it’s a few sizes too big on you.”

your heart started to race and you glanced around, looking for a weapon. you weren’t safe. and neither were your friends.

“what are you going to use, huh? that plastic machete? or are you going to unscrew the ceiling fan?” the killer teased.

you snarled, “fuck you.”

ghostface said nothing while you walked out of the living room, but before your fingers could even brush the kitchen knife, your phone buzzed in your hand. it was a video outside of tara’s bedroom window, of her laying on chad’s chest. you gulped.

“don’t they look so cute together?” ghostface asked with a chuckle, speaking again. “you have two options. it’s a simple choice, really. either do what i say or i’ll cut their fun short.”

you backed away from the knives, taking a huge breath while you re-entered the living room. this fucking asshole. you were at his mercy.

“smart choice!” he exclaimed.

you grumbled, “what do you want me to do?”

“take off that shirt.”

you paralyzed at his request, not wanting to commit to it in the slightest. for fuck’s sake, this guy wanted you to give him a fucking strip tease? you weren’t an expert on these kinds of things, but you figured he had to be somebody that you knew. he could have just asked.

ghostface yawned, as if to say he was getting bored. “tick tock. i have a short attention span, you know. the thought of slicing open your friends is starting to get really enticing right now.”

you huffed in annoyance, throwing the goddamn shirt above your head. it was ethan’s. your friends spent a lot of time your place because you were the only one that lived alone. you snapped, “are you happy?”

“not yet,” he said darkly. “you see that stuffed animal by your television? pick it up. i want you to ride it.”

“you can’t be serious,” you grumbled to yourself, and when he didn’t say anything, you figured he hadn’t heard you. you grabbed the fucking stuffed animal you’d gotten for your birthday and mounted the toy, feeling a little awkward doing this while aware that you were being watched.

you eased into your movements, starting off slow, partially because it was a little humiliating. you weren’t wearing much under the shirt, only your panties. in fact, you weren’t even wearing a bra.

“fuck,” came the voice on the phone. “just like that.”

what made the situation even more mortifying was that you didn’t hate how it felt, grinding against the faux fur of the poor large teddy bear. you could feel your arousal starting to damp your underwear, sticking to your skin. you wanted to be disgusted with yourself.

“tell me how it feels.”

“feels… feels good,” you replied through ragged breaths, against your better judgment.

“yeah?” he hummed.

“mm-hm,” you whispered, forgetting that you were supposed to be scared.

all of the heat washed over you, fogging your brain as your hips found a rhythm. you were blindsided by pleasure, grinding your sticky cunt against the toy. you threw your head back in a moan, grabbing onto the toy while you increased your pace.

it was shameful what you were doing, entertaining some freak behind a mask. but it wasn’t like you had any other choice. he was going to hurt my friends, was what you’d reminded yourself when the smoke cleared and your thoughts became rational again.

“stop,” he commanded, much to your chagrin.

“no,” you whimpered. “please.”

ghostface laughed mockingly, but only for a second, before repeating a little harsher this time, “stop.”

you halted your actions, hating the aching throbbing between your legs. it was driving you crazy. you felt so soaked, so wet.

“good girl,” he whispered. “bend yourself over the arm of the couch.”

you were too aroused to make some snappy comment, doing as told. you were guessing he wanted a nice view to get off to. the imagination could only do so much.

that was when you heard a sound, but you didn’t have much time to react when he came out of nowhere and pressed himself behind you, bringing his hand to your mouth to muffle your scream. you felt him tug at your underwear and reached behind your back to stop him, which ultimately ended with your arms folded behind your back and your panties slipped to the side as he forced his big, hard cock into your wet cunt.

“so absorbed in pleasure you didn’t even hear me come in,” he said, but you quickly noticed that he spoke without the modulator. and you didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was.

you blurted, “ethan?”

“yeah, baby,” he moaned, slapping his hips against yours. “that’s what i want you to say when you cum all over my cock. shit, baby, you’re so wet.”

you shuddered when you felt his fingers coat themselves in your arousal, and you didn’t even realize that he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you. it drove him mad with lust, to an extent he didn’t even know he was capable.

you couldn’t even bring yourself to be upset right now at your friend’s actions, too tangled in ecstasy and the way it felt as his cock slipped in and out of you with a wet sound, fucking you stupid. to say nothing of how touch-starved you were.

“ethan,” you stammered out again. “harder.”

“you want me to fuck you harder?” ethan asked, chucking in amazement. you were everything he could’ve dreamed of, and beyond.

you bobbed your head. “please, i need it.”

“well, if you need it,” he teased, a lilt to his tone.

it knocked the wind out of you when he slapped his hips into you harder, made you feel dizzy with how perfectly he felt inside you, stuffing you full. it was a lot, but you knew that you could take it.

this moment was straight out of a fantasy. you were bent over, crying out ethan’s name and begging him for more, like you just couldn’t get enough of him. to be frank, he couldn’t get enough of you either. you scratched something in his brain, made him go crazy. not to mention how you were pulsing around his dick, so tight and way better than his hands.

“nobody else can have you like this,” ethan groaned, fisting your hair into a ponytail behind you. “right?”

“nobody,” you stuttered, barely able to speak. you were on the brink of climax.

“fuck,” ethan moaned. “cum for me, baby. you know you want to.”

that was basically all it took to finish you, the petname rolling off of his tongue so deliciously. just as you were instructed, you moaned ethan’s name when you came, feeling wrecked as pure hell.

ethan came too, pulling out and cumming on your back much to your surprise. he slid off you after a moment or two, leaving you to drop onto the couch, exhausted.

just moments later, your phone buzzed, and you grabbed it under ethan’s watchful gaze. it was a text from chad.

chad: hey it’s tara

chad: i stole chad’s phone lol he’s in the shower

chad: so something kinda crazy happened… i like totally lost my phone. but i wanted to check up on you and make sure you didn’t die lol

you glanced back at ethan, meeting his eyes for the first time since he’d been here, and watching his lips curl into a twisted grin. it was a wordless exchange.

#ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #scream 6 imagines

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fleursbending · 1 year

Text

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫. | Neteyam Sully

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : green is all you see, and for once it's not because you live in the midst of the damn jungle. it's because envy and greed consume you. what's the root cause of it? neteyam and your supposed friend who is trying to definitely charm him.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 : “This—” [points at their chest] “—this belongs to you. Always.”

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : neteyam sully x fem!omaticaya reader.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : requested, yes | no. hellooo idk where this came from, but here we are at least another request done! just wanted to put a lil something out because the songcords are some chonky mfs and taking some time! so hope you enjoy. this is loosely based on "my heart it beats for you" - grentperez (filo represent!)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : jealousy, flirting w/o clear consent?, neteyam is so boyfie/bbg here, protective!nete, ur friend is an asshat, hurt/comfort, established relationship, cussing, fluff yippee!

𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 : olo’eyktan - clan leader, yaymak - foolish/ignorant, tsamsiyu - warrior, oeyä - my (possessive), hawnu - protect/shelter, muntxate - wife/mate.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.5k words !

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @pandorainmymind @eywas-heir @spicycloudsalad @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn @scarlettwitch-4 @23victoria @avidreader3107 @purplehyacinthss-deactivated202 @itssiaaax @neteyamoa @tsireyasgf @nijirozzz @useryourbut @yua-himari @sweetheartlizzie07 @grierpilots @reneehillary69 @fruitsalad1 @forasgaard @iwaslikeblah @dumb-fawkin-bitch @theicemav @narutoboi @azaleaniath @goosemothersblog

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇, especially if you have to witness the cause of such erratic inner turmoil.

She hadn't meant to wander this close to the training grounds, and truthfully she had no clue how her little detour brought her here.

Alas, perhaps she'd gravitated here for a reason. After all, Neteyam was training some warriors-to-be, and maybe now she could catch a glimpse of him in action without disrupting the lesson.

She missed him, the consistent need of kissing him like the ocean does to the tide as it retreats back to shore. It held her heart in a monumental lock, Neteyam had infiltrated her thoughts once again. To be fair, she could not be blamed for this - they'd barely been around each other the past few days.

Jake had become even sterner, prepping his son for when he'd take the mantle of Olo'ekytan as it is handed down to him. It had Neteyam wishing he could talk back, just simply out of spite. To demand some room, freedom to spend more time with you. But the only thing keeping him grounded and sane was the fact that perhaps once this is all over, and he has secured his place as the leader of the clan - maybe then things would settle. He'd get to be around you more, even if it is through lingering touches and a fuse charged to his heart due to the yearning glances from across two ends of a place in their home in the midst of the forest.

His desire to cross the finish line had increased by tenfold at the mere thoughts flittering in his brimming mind. To start a family with you, live his life to the fullest with you…that was all he's yearned for.

But now she's cursing herself, feet stomping onto the forest ground with uncertainty brewing deep in her bones. ___ did not know whether or not to be pissed beyond belief or let her heart sink into the doubts already sneering at her.

Because through the thick branches, she stood behind to peer into the training grounds, the sight before her was certainly something to behold.

Training my ass! Speaking of ass, is she pressing hers into- what the actual fuck?

Her heart drummed in her ears, and suddenly fury fills her veins until she feels ashamed. Is this what has been going on all this time? How could her friend act on the attractions that she seemed to very obviously have? Neteyam was spoken for.

___ best friend stood a good few metres away from where she had unintentionally hidden, pressed too closely to Neteyam as he tries to readjust her stance and the way she grips her bow.

That coniving little… ___ had already taught the ins and outs of how to control her bow and how to aim it. They did this months ago. She wanted to give her friend the benefit of the doubt, maybe she just needed some touching up? But why wouldn't she have just gone to you?

Such questions fizzle out as her eyes cut to your own, unnerving and edging on callousness. Oh, so this definitely was purposeful.

She knows more than anyone else that her boyfriend is capable of holding his own, but sometimes - he is just a little dense. Especially around the ladies of the clan, and the fact that every female (even males) wants a piece of him.

Not even just to be the Tsahik of the future Olo'ekytan, but because he inherited the beauty of his mother - the roughness of his father. He also had a very protective demeanor, never hesitating to be vocal about his genuine adoration for you - or back you up when a situation demanded of it.

It lights a fuse in the back of your mind then, a raging insistent thought that you'd try to tone down the moment you realised that you were each other's, person. That hopefully nothing was going to come of the way of that.

But your supposed friend is definitely coming in the way of you acting civil right now.

Maybe you just weren't good enough for him, never able to live up to everything Neteyam is known for and will come to be.

Jake had told Neteyam that he could begin to train other like-minded Na'vi - the people of the Omaticaya that wanted to become warriors. Saying in the same sentence how his dear friend Tsu'tey used to do the same.

It instilled him with great pride and honor, which he was undeniably blinded by in this current moment as your friends' fingertips graze his arm in a very flirtatious manner.

Disdain clawed at your skin then, making you want to scratch at your arms. Did she willingly sign up for these lessons? Yaymak, she's taking up the time of true soon-to-be warriors who await more proper training.

She lets out a loud and very obnoxious giggle, and Neteyam doesn't acknowledge a thing - still too focused on the lesson. The fuse imploded then.

All the doubts came gushing in at once, searing to your skin as envy wilts around your conscience. Green is all you see, and for once it's not because you live in the midst of the damn jungle. It's because envy and greed consume you. Betrayal too, towards the friend you lost and your lover who was too focused on living up to the legacy of two influential men of the clan.

Oh maybe, just maybe you had to unwillingly entertain such detrimental thoughts.

There's a reason why the clan is so unbashful in their efforts of trying to claim Neteyam as their one and only mate for a lifetime.

You weren't enough in their eyes.

You'd come from a mediocre family, hunters on the bottom of the hierarchy - nothing remotely remarkable.

Nothing compared to your soon-to-be ex-friend who is inching her way closer into Neteyam's chest - whose mother is also incredibly close to Neytiri.

___ was really wishing for Eywa right about now. That the atkorinas that had danced among the sky and brushed your shoulders when you and Neteyam shared your first kiss, were not something she had hopelessly imagined.

With fists clenched, Neteyam releases the arrow. Bullseye.

"Yep, that's how I do it." He just smiles down at her respectfully, stepping back unintentionally as he reloads his bow to demonstrate it one more time.

The girl inflicting all this bitterness and resentment frowned then, before turning slightly and meeting your teary eyes once again.

She knew you were there and was still doing this? Yeah, she can rot in hell.

In an instant, she squeals, but it's still a late reaction to what he had just shown - jumping to him and giving Neteyam an audacious hug.

Great mother, she was testing your resolve. Your claim. ___ can't do this, can't bare witness to such crude manners and undeterred actions from someone she had confided in and befriended for a large part of her life.

Before you knew it, you were fumbling, feet stepping on a hollow stick.

Snap. It echoes in the now still air, missing how Neteyam had flinched and retreated from her hug immediately. His features darkened as he spat out, "Don't touch me like that. You are here to learn, so learn."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Two heads whip towards you as ___ bolts off, not daring to take a quick glance back at where you had left your broken heart.

Neteyam is only just able to catch a glimpse of who had suddenly retreated, dread drenching him in a mere half second once everything falls into place.

It was his yawntu.

The need to please his father and live up to the great hold his uncle Tsu'tey still had on his people sputters, becoming an afterthought.

"How dare you take advantage of me like this?" He thunders at the now floundering girl.

She gapes and stutters. But nothing flows through his ears. How pathetic.

"You're her best friend!" He hissed, ears laying flat in vexation.

Once again nothing leaves her suddenly parched mouth, and it leaves him utterly cross. Neteyam decides then to drag salt across the wound.

"You are not capable of being a warrior, especially if you cannot take my lessons seriously. I suggest you head back to where you belong because I will not teach someone as lousy as you - ever - again." He glowered, snatching the practice bow out of her hands and proceeding to not only snap it in half - but throw it on the ground as well.

"Neteyam!" She desperately calls at the same time he yells out for you, running in the same direction he had seen you flee.

He doesn't bother to pivot and throw more spite at the already frightened girl who had tried to make advances on him, it was her fault they got caught in that position (literally).

The ever-so-mighty tsamiyu now feels like he is shackled to the forest floor as he calls out for you again, frowning as his feet dig into the soil beneath him once finally finds you.

There you are, winsome as you quietly sob into the palm of your hands that cover the aggrieved expression that painted your features. The waterfall cascaded down on you as you pushed yourself to sit inside the little cave that had created itself over the years right behind it.

A jolt ripples through ___ as Neteyam instinctively brings you into a hug the moment he reaches you, pressing repetitive kisses to your forehead.

You let yourself feel the wrath of your thoughts then, right at their peak - so you can come to terms with them. They can settle and move away from having you anchored down like you were currently.

A gut-wrenching sigh ebbed out of you then, whispering to Neteyam apologetically.

"I know, I know it's not your fault. I'm sorry I reacted this way."

He just shakes his head in turmoil then, features hardened at the thought of you having to witness him try to be swayed by someone who he didn't find trifling interest in. Someone who had been in your inner circle of friends.

Neteyam felt scorned, struggling to find words that can appease both of you. This is all unexplored territory to him, he'd never had to deal with someone so bold that was also trying to get with him. The eldest Sully is so unapologetically enamored, essentially soaking in all the love and devotion he has for you. There's so much of it to go around, that even his heart sometimes grapples with where to place it all.

He necessitated, tone yearning for you to see him. "I hope you know, these were never my intentions. To hurt you, for her to act so-...for it to turn out - I was trying to appease my father and it's just been-"

You cut him off, understanding and knowing all too well of the troubles and responsibilities that have been bestowed upon him and weigh heavily on his broad shoulders.

"Nete, I know. Really, it's just my mind playing games with me. It is not your fault that she decided to, well - ruin our friendship. You also did not deserve such treatment when time is already not on your side right now. I'm sorry for that."

___ doesn't meet his eyes, instead her own are downcast - allowing her hair to hang like a curtain over her blotchy face due to the tears that she had just shed.

"___." He utters with purpose, hands moving to push your damp hair back and away from your face.

You hum lowly, eyes still holding a peculiar melancholy and distant as ever.

His hand pressing to your heart is what shatters you from the reverie.

Neteyam's amber eyes are fierce, bold, and enraptured with the deepest appreciation for you.

Now he knows he holds your attention,

“This—”, he points to his chest then, vehemently and with such precision it has your heart stilling for a moment, “—this belongs to you. Always.”

A shudder breaks from your lips then, astounded and in awe that he is all yours. Shaking hands fold over his that still are motioning to his own heart.

The heart that had been ever so charmed by your delightful presence, so effortlessly whole due to the affections you bestowed upon him over the years of his childhood up til now.

You're each other's eternities, aligned with the stars and the atkorina's. ___ is sure of it now.

He'd orbit around you as long as you wished for him to. A shield and a protector for this lifetime and the ones that followed. Neteyam liked to believe that if there was another life, you'd fall right into place beside one another. That your love would just shift and begin again.

If only he knew you thought the exact same thing, especially now as you just appreciate Neteyam for all that he is and who he'll come to be. He has big shoes to fill, but you know he'll be just fine.

"As does mine. Always." You whisper with consolation, delicate and saccharine.

His heart squeezes, hands darting away from yours to cup your face as he let his head dip into yours.

It was a movement that was second-hand nature to him now, a daily occurrence of sorts.

Neteyam breathes you in, letting your aura wrap around his being.

Your arms capture him in return, fingers trailing down the divots that line his spine as he allows himself to melt into your hold. Tension fusing into ease.

"You're not mad at me?" He questions, mindlessly playing with a strand of your still-damp hair.

"I'm not mad at you, oeyä hawnu."

His heart flutters then, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He shyly whines into the nape of your neck, your response is to giggle in return.

"You know what calling me that, does to me! I guess it's time to once again show my affection to you in front of all the people!"

You squeal his name as he suddenly lifts you up, throwing over you his shoulder as he wades out into the real world and across the water, away from your little bubble.

Bursts of laughter mingle with the bustling sounds of nature as he makes his way back to your home base.

Neteyam will gladly let everyone know how devoted he is to you, to make sure they know that he isn't kidding around when he said you'd be his future muntxate.

In his heart and soul, he knew you were the only person Pandora made for him in the eyes of Eywa. That's how it always will be, is the thought that springs to both of your minds in that very moment. The great mother wishes then she could give you a sign then, but she rectifies herself then.

Your heart beats when with each other speaks enough.

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

⤷ feedback and reblogs are always much appreciated ! feel free to ask through my inbox if you would like to join my taglist. ♡ // a/n: i tried using ___ instead of y/n cos i was getting tired of it lmk if that's ok. also LMAOO i imagined the waterfall as the hsm2 scene, the pool iyky!

#junie's library 📚✧.*#— junie & the prompts ☆ﾐ #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader #atwow #avatar imagine #avatar x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar #james cameron avatar #missing neteyam hours !#i missed writing for him #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff

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salty-says · 6 months

Text

Going back to my roots and writing. (Haven’t written fan fiction for 3 years 💀). Anyway the One Piece Live Action has caused me to become very active on tumblr and fall down rabbit holes.

So here is a little Drabble about Shanks x Luffy’sMom!reader

A/N: LMFAO I DIDN’T KNOW ANY OP PLOT RLY BEFORE WRITING THIS AND I KNOW KNOW LUFFY’S FATHER IS GARP’S CHILD NOT HIS MOM 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Being the daughter of a marine admiral meant that she grew up with an instilled hatred for pirates. Garp put her through training early on in hopes he could mold her to become a great marine like himself.

She developed fighting skills and had a strong sense of justice. That was until she went out on a mission in her teens to monitor a suspicious group of pirates. The other marines she went on the mission with decided to take their anger out on said pirates beating them to a pulp. A nasty feeling resonated within her chest as she watched her fellow marines serve their definition of justice.

That night made her start to hate the marines and the sham they were. She disconnected herself from Garp and moved to Foosha Village to start her own life away from the marines and her father.

She was very wary of pirates still. Always held onto some lingering fear for them deep down, always looked behind her back.

On the island she bought a quaint cottage and began her own garden in hopes to sustain herself without having to rely on the villagers for supplies.

After a couple of years, she found her place on the island and even become well know for her fruits and vegetables. She always brought her fresh produce to the market each morning, where she had a cute booth. The villagers adored her and also took interest in her mysterious past.

She sometimes found herself going to Party’s Bar after she made good friends with the bartender, Makino. They would talk about all there was to talk about on the island. Sailors, pirates, bandits all passed through.

However one day, old memories began resurfacing. Ones she thought she repressed long ago. She ended up going to Party’s Bar to get shit faced in hopes of shutting everything out.

At the same time as she was downing drink after drink, some sailors stopped on by at the bar. One of them was clearly very interested in her. So in her drunken state she let the man take her to an inn on the island to stay the night.

She didn’t think much of that night until one day she started feeling unbearable nausea. She went to the doctor and found out that she had gotten pregnant.

That was 9 years ago. Her small cottage now occupied by her and Luffy. She absolutely adores Luffy and would do anything for him. Sure he would frustrate her here and there but she was his mother and she loved him more than anything.

She was keen on Luffy’s interest in pirates and sailing the ocean. She decided to not share her own reservations about pirates, as she wanted Luffy to establish his own opinions when she herself couldn’t at his age.

a pirate ship became very well known around Foosha Village. A grand ship with a Jolly Roger with 3 lines across the left eye. She was aware of their presence but didn’t take mind as long as they didn’t interfere with her.

Often Luffy would come back late for dinner beaming about the stories he heard from a man named “Shanks”. She learned that he was the captain of the ship that housed itself at the docks.

With a simple reminder of him to be careful she encouraged Luffy to learn more about Shanks and his crew.

One day while she was at her booth in town, a red-haired male approached her. Instantly she noticed how cute he was and how the white shirt he wore let her admire his toned muscles.

With a blush she darted her eyes back to his face and he deeply chuckled. She smiled, “How can I help you today sir?”

“I’m looking to purchase most of your stock,” he smirked at her.

She quirked her head to the side and smiled, “Either your throwing a big party or heading out to sea.”

“Maybe both,” the red-head shrugged.

She giggled and began showing him the crates of fresh produce. He handed her some berry, “got any plans tonight?”

She blushed, “no, none really. Probably just going to make some dinner for me and my son.”

His smile faltered a bit at the last part, “Ah, I presume your married then. Sorry if my advances made you uncomfortable.”

She threw up her hands in dismissal, “Oh no. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Actually your advances are quite welcome,” she leaned on the counter, “and don’t worry there is no husband you have to worry about.”

“Aye, how lucky am I?”

She smirked, “quite lucky”

He chuckled and leaned forward towards her, “I never introduced myself. The name’s Shanks.”

Her eyes widened a bit and her body shifted away from him. He quirked his eyebrows at this, confused by her sudden change in composure.

“..pirate,” she quietly murmured to herself. Shanks in hearing this now understood her sudden shift. “I can assure you sweetheart,” he grabbed her hands gently, “I’m a very good pirate.”

Her eyes lightened and body relaxed at his touch. And with a slight apology she told him her name. “Only a beautiful name such as that can suit a beautiful woman such as you.”

She blushed. “It’s scary how much you’re flustering me. I don’t think I would let you leave this island if you keep this up.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a while.”

“I think my son would like that. He’s very fond of you. Your name graces our dinner table every night.” She rolls her eyes.

Shanks’ eyes widen a bit connecting the dots, “I presume Luffy is your son then?”

“Aye”

“That make sense now. He did say his mother was wary of pirates because she used to be a marine. And looking at you now, I’m glad you’re not one anymore because you’re way too beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles.

Her face turned red. “Please take me out to dinner before I pass out from how flustered you’re making me.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

#red haired shanks #shanks x reader #shanks #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #opla #opla shanks

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moooncats · 3 months

Text

✿ PAC : Love Letter From Your Future Spouse ✿

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✿ Pile 1 ✿

Hello beautiful, did you miss me? I know that everything has been so hectic but I swear you are such a fighter. I love the way you have this no tolerance go getter attitude. You are truly my muse. You transform the most mundane things and make them into gold flecks that flutter into the air and it's just awe inspiring. I have searched all over the world, met many inspiring people in my life and none of them compare to you- you captivated me, lured me into your beautiful unique aura and I can never forget that moment. I knew then, that you had to be mine. I thank the heavens everyday because you are the person I get to wake up next to- what a blessing! I must have done a lot of good in my past life to meet you. It truly is a gift being in your presence! We mesh together perfectly, your hand in mine, our bodies intertwined. I can't believe that manifesting someone as yourself actually worked. Our vibrations match perfectly as we are in tuned with each other. Like a root deep underground, it's vast and everlasting. That is our love, we will grow stronger together and I am missing every second, minute, hour that I am away from you my love. I can't wait to make it back to you so we can start our forever life together, and we can do it all over again in another lifetime. Please wait for me goregous, I love you with all my hearts. Sending my love to you from every universe. I know you can feel its warmth. ♡ Yours truly. ♡

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✿ Pile 2 ✿

Hello goregous soulmate. I can't believe that it's that time of year again. I know you love letters from me and I've made you so many already but just know that every letter I write are my true authentic feelings. There is so much going on in my head everyday and most of it is because of you my goregous soulmate. You have encapsuled my love and intertwined it with your beautiful soul. I am forever grateful of your presence every day. You changed me so much and for the better. Before I was aimless in life, no drive, aspirations, no hope... then you came along. With your sunshine aura and I couldn't get enough of it. You are the light that guides my wandering soul out of the abyss. You are my forever muse. I can't wait to grow old with you and start that family we've always talked about, until then I have only my words to keep you going through these times. My will and determination to get us everything we deserve and need in life. You will never have to ask for more, anything you want you will have it my love. I love you so much goregous please don't ever change. ♡ Yours Truly. ♡

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✿ Pile 3 ✿

You're not mad at me are you? I know I've done a lot of things in this life that have made me feel regrettable, but this- this is the one that tops it all. I am human... we all make mistakes. Please don't fester any bad feelings for me my delicate little flower. You know I had you in mind the whole time and I thought it would be best for the both of us. Everything I ever do, my thoughts, my actions, my feelings; I always take you into consideration. You are my everything, my delicate flower that I must protect. I will do ANYTHING for you baby. You don't know how much you mean to me, the day we met was the best day of my life. I will never forget locking eyes with you for the first time. My heart instantly went into hyper drive, it just wouldn't stop. I knew then that you were the one. The way you move gracefully through the shit show that is life is just mesmerizing. Life has taken so much from you... from us. We are 2 souls who were once lost but when we get together, we become 2 partners intertwined and formed into 1 power couple. I know you know this my love, words can't express how much I feel about you. You are my muse, my world, my will to live. I won't lose you this time, not again. ♡ Yours Truly. ♡

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#pac #pick a card #free tarot #tarotreading #tarot #baby witch #intuitive #intuition #tarotblr #moooncatstarot

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sailoryooons · 9 months

Note

Okay hear me out, but maybe a little bit of enemies to lovers, little bit of smutty goodness between witch hunter!yoongi and witch!reader?? Idk why this popped in my head but I’m kind of desperate to see a little something now lol.

Also, I love you ❤️

❀ Pairing: Witch hunter!Yoongi x f. witch!reader

❀ Summary: For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand.

❀ Word Count: 4188

❀ Genre: Urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, a hint of angst, smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: On screen character death (not permanent though), depictions of blood and intense action sequences, scary demon thing, depiction of weapons, hints at violence between two groups of people, mild world building, a bit of angst, explicit language, explicit sexual content featuring light nipple play, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, a lot of spit, UNEDITED.

❀ Published: August 3, 2023

❀ A/N: I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to control myself with some of these ideas because god dammit Sarah, I want to turn this into more than ~4k of a work. Like this idea inspired me so much, you have no idea how insane I wanted to go on this but I had to CONTROL MYSELF because I promised that this year I would keep it tame. I love you so much and I’m so sorry that this is like 90% plot and 10% smut but I kept inching toward 5k and I was like I HAVE GOT TO STOP MYSELF JESUS CHRIST and dkfgjdiogjfoigjg I am telling you right now, I want to come back and revisit this fic and makie it like a four chapter thing or something because GOD I LOVED THIS IDEA AND YOU KNEW JUST WHAT TO REQUEST. Also this is unedited!!!!

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Most nights, Yoongi dreams of you. He knows better, and yet he can’t help himself. It’s like you’re living under his skin, a virus that has taken root in the marrow of his bones. He doesn’t know how he would dig you out if he tried.

If he tried.

If anyone from the Conclave knew the dangerous game that Yoongi is playing, he would be ousted or killed. Killing would be the mercy, but he’s garnered enough hate within the elite members of the Conclave to know they’d rather him suffer cut off from his resources. His friends. His family.

Still, Yoongi walks a dangerous line. He knows it’s wrong, letting a witch infect him like a sickness. He is sure that he’s under your spell. There’s no other explanation for the way he always lets you slip away. For the way he closes his eyes and imagines the flutter of your heart against his, the sound of your gasps, the warmth of your hands.

Stars explode behind Yoongi’s eyes as he presses the heels of his hands into them. He’s exhausted, limbs heavy and sore from a day of bloody work. The activity downtown has only worsened the last few months, making Yoongi hunt multiple times a day and return home banged up.

The pain he can handle. Witches and their demons are nothing new to him. But he knows there’s something he’s missing, something lurking beneath the surface of the increased activity and the strong demonic presence in the city.

Yoongi knows he could ask you. He’s thought about it a few times over the last few weeks but he’s talked himself out of it each time. The curiosity has always lingered there, waiting for him to ask in those moments where you cross his path, coy and sharp as ever. In the minutes you linger, shooting him insults he thinks you don’t mean and playing little word games.

He doesn’t ask, though. And you never offer, despite the fact that your sharp eyes and knowing smirk lead him to believe you know he wants to ask.

Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t. Not giving you what you want is part of the fun. He likes the way it makes you bristle, magic crackling at your fingertips. He loves the way it makes you narrow your eyes at him, lobbing empty threats that make him want to purr.

Whatever this effect you have on him is potent. He can’t shake you off, can’t outrun you.

And worse, he doesn’t want to.

Rain begins to beat on the bedroom window outside. Though his limbs are heavy from slogging through the sewer system downtown after a witch and her ivax demon, he’s a little too keyed up to sleep. Yoongi senses something staticy in the air, an energy that he can’t name.

Opening up his phone, he flips through his text threads with members of the Conclave. It seems everyone is in it tonight, the demonic activity buzzing and the monsters worse than usual. He frowns when he sees Seokjin mention a prowler crawling through the warehouse district. Yoongi knows that’s where you live and an unexpected sense of unease slivers down his spine.

He locks his phone and tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t need to worry about you. You’re one of the most skilled witches in the city and you’ve killed scores of demons and others alike. He should remove your head for the number of hunters you’ve put in the ground, but you’ve killed triple that in witches.

Which is why you’re alone. It’s not lost on Yoongi that you’re a witch without a coven and with unusual alliances living in a warehouse all alone with a prowler on the loose. If you know it’s there - you have to know it’s there, being you - he knows you’ll go after it.

“Fuck,” he sighs at the ceiling.

Grabbing his phone, Yoongi sends off a quick text.

Yoongi: Anyone dispatching to take care of the prowler?

Councilman Haer: Negative. The Conclave will not be dispatching. The Warehouse District is not critical and it’ll go back down after it’s satiated. Prowlers aren’t controlled by witches, it might even take a few out for us.

Yoongi stomach flips as he squeezes his phone tight before getting up. He’s tired of the Conclave’s inaction. He knows he’ll get in trouble for going after something so dangerous without backup, but he can’t ask Seokjin and Hoseok to back him up on this one. Not unauthorized, and not for something so dangerous.

Unsanctioned hunts is exactly how Yoongi has ended up at the bottom of the pool among Conclave members, but he doesn’t care. Politics can’t erase the fact that he’s the best fucking hunter in the city, and no councilman who won’t get their hands dirty can give him grief for doing what needs to be done.

This isn’t about the Conclave, though. Yoongi knows it. Seokjin would know it, if Yoongi told him what he was doing. But the thought of a prowler tearing through the low-income streets in the Warehouse District doesn’t resonate with him. Neither does knowing that you are one of the witches in the line of fire.

Yoongi dresses and arms himself with military proficiency. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a form-fitted leather vest over it to prevent most stabs and cuts, knives sheathed along the ribbing of the vest, breathable pants with a tactical belt and pockets full of hunting necessities, and his necklace with the Conclave helix.

At the last second, he grabs a jacket and pulls the hood up to keep the beating rain from soaking him through. While he has some talent with magic to help him heal faster and make his blows stronger and faster, he’s not skilled in the way of weather or anything advanced enough to keep him dry and comfortable.

Nervousness settles into him as he takes the subway to the Warehouse District. It’s not far, but the train is empty and filled with dirty puddles left behind from passengers. Lights flicker above as the subway rockets unevening on the tracks, making him dizzy.

When he steps off the train and into the wet underground of the station entrance, he knows something is amiss. His fingers twitch as he jogs up the steps, boots splashing loudly as the rain comes down. Wind whips at him here and when he hears a crack of thunder too loud and rumbling to be human, his instincts kick in.

Yoongi takes off running. He knows where your warehouse-turned-loft is. He’d originally scouted it out to eliminate you. Now, it’s something he’s always kept an eye on, steering other hunters away from your home. It’s silly, he knows. You’d call him weak if you knew, probably. And yet he does it, diverting danger coming your way when he can.

Now, danger is already there.

The storm rages harder as he heads your direction. Wind pushes at him, making Yoongi lock his muscles as he fights the freezing cold rain and the debris that blows down the street with the force of the storm. He hopes that it keeps people indoors and away from the prowler.

But Yoongi sees the purple lighting lance out of the sky, an explosion of radiant beauty for a moment before it strikes nearby, blowing transforms into white sparks and he realizes what is so uncanny about this storm.

It’s you. You’re the storm.

A roar of rage shakes the air as he comes around the corner to your street. The warehouse you live in is at the end of the road right up against the bay. The wind is mixed with salt spray, stinging his eyes as he runs towards the shadowy outline of your building, nearly impossible to see in the rain and night.

Yoongi manages to roll one of the heavy doors open to your loft, muscles screaming with effort. Stepping inside, chaos greets him. The ceiling is blown out above your home, rain pouring in from the sky. It tastes like lightning and blood. No doubt your storm is what ripped the ceiling apart, but when he sees the prowler, he doesn’t blame you.

A massive creature stands ten feet tall, rippling with leathered hide and spikes on its back. Long, gangly limbs drag on the floor with black, sharpened talons on the end of each of its three fingers. The prowler walks awkwardly and Yoongi notes the scorch mark in its left shoulder, making it lean as it drags itself toward its intended target.

Which is you, laying on the ground bloody and rain soaked. Yoongi doesn’t even think. He has no idea if you’re conscious or not, but he’s moving across the room, putting power into his step as he pulls out two of his daggers and jumps high up into the air.

Yoongi’s intent is to land on the back of the prowler and sink each blade in as he falls. He doesn’t anticipate the demon to turn away from bloodied prey, but it does, swinging its arm wildly to bat him away. He’s lucky that the forearm catches him in the stomach and sends him flying and not the flaws.

Closing his eyes and bracing for impact, Yoongi is surprised when he doesn’t slam into a wall. He opens his eyes to see himself floating toward the floor, suspended briefly before the phantom energy drops him gently. He lands with shock, looking up to where you’re sitting up, one hand extended toward him.

At least you weren’t out cold or dead. Yoongi is really happy that you’re not dead, but it’s cut short as the prowler charges him.

This time, Yoongi’s ready. He runs at the beast, waiting until he’s right outside of the window of its swiping claws before he dives to his knees, sliding under the creature and between its legs. He twists his hands, cutting the inside of the creature’s thighs as he goes.

It shrieks, shaking the building and scattering Yoongi’s thoughts. He feels fizzy and confused for a moment, the mind breaking scream of the prowler enough to make him vulnerable. He feels a hand on his face and he looks up, momentarily stricken with the thought that he sees an angel.

“Thank you,” you breathe, and he recognizes your voice. Usually it cracks like a whip, but this is soft. Strange. It terrifies him. “I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me. Just know that I liked our game, Hunter.”

“What are you doing, Witch?”

Your smile is like the sun. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your face is covered in blood and rain, turning your neck scarlet as it runs. There’s a gash above your brow and he sees a blackened wound in your stomach.

It is amazing, how a creature like you, bred to be an evil, wicked thing can look radiant. Holy. Wonderful. Your hand is cradling his face and it feels warm, despite the rain and blood on your hands. Your thumb is soft as it sweeps across his cheek, a touch more reverent than he’s ever known.

“Witch,” Yoongi starts, unsure what you’re doing.

“I’ll miss that. Take this.”

Before Yoongi can react, your hand falls from his face. You move past him with absolute confidence, lifting your chin. You have a limp as you do, and Yoongi reaches after you but you’re already out of his grip.

Something stirs in the air. He’s only felt power rippling like that once before when he was a child, and the entire Conclave worked together to slaughter an Eldritch Witch that had attacked them and taken out more than half of their hunters.

Now, Yoongi feels that dark presence again, energy buzzing against his ears as he turns to look at you over his shoulder. The prowler senses the power disturbance too, backing away from you as dark particles begin to gather around your hands.

Above you, the rain hovers, disrupted by the frequency of your magic. The buzz in Yoongi’s ears gets louder as he climbs to his feet, clapping his hands firmly over his ears, wincing as it gets higher and louder. He thinks it might burst his ear drums or crack his skull open.

Disks of dark particles circle you as you approach the demon, which is now roaring once more, trying to disrupt your thoughts. It doesn’t work, the air vibrating with dark matter. You’re at the center of the swirling darkness, the rings rotating around you like an access.

The sound stops suddenly, and for a moment, Yoongi thinks he’s deaf. Black matter pulses from you, exploding outward. Yoongi hits the floor, realizing if he gets hit with your magic, he’ll die. Never before has he witnessed the Eldritch Blast of a witch, but he knows that it's only used as a final stand.

I’m going to do something that is probably going to kill me.

The finality of your words shreds him open as the shockwave of your magic barrels at him. He thinks he’s going to die as it expands toward him, but instead, it arches over him, battling down against a magical barrier.

Take this. Yoongi realizes you’ve warded him from your destruction, keeping him safe as your blast levels the world around you. He feels the magic beating down on your ward like raging fits, vibrating and shrieking under the pressure of the magic.

It even keeps him from being injured by the collapsing debris.

Yoongi looks at you as the world falls to pieces. You go down to one knee, then the other, swaying as the darkness cascades around you in a final flutter of power. Then you fall over, heavy and unmoving as the rest of the building comes down.

All he can do is scream.

Most nights, you dream of Yoongi. You don’t know when it started - perhaps that first night after you met him? You can’t be sure. All you know is that at some point, the hunter poisoned you from the inside out, a disease taking root and rotting you all the way through to your core.

You always knew that dreaming of him would get you killed one day. But Yoongi was different. Wiser than the rest of his wretched Conclave. Smart enough to question his way of life and his faction’s merciless killings. You think he’ll start asking the right questions soon, that maybe he’ll start seeing the signs that who he has sworn loyalty to isn’t who they say they are.

But Yoongi never asks questions.

It’s easy to tell he wants to. There’s always that little pause at the end of your meetings. You used to think it was perhaps he was trying to decide whether or not to kill you. Perhaps it was that at first, but now it’s something a little different. A little more. Like he is on the edge of finally asking you what exactly is going on in the city that he protects from monsters.

Yoongi is simple, though. He likes his little life tucked away in the Art District and he likes the wash, rinse, repeat of killing demons and corrupted witches nightly. You think he likes your little run-ins.

Now, you’ve finally paid the price of letting him live these last two years. Had someone told you before you’d met Yoongi that you’d sacrifice yourself for him and the rest of a small neighborhood, you’d have laughed in their face. You weren’t a hero, though some might think slaying your own kind and their creatures was worth praise.

Penance and praise are not the same, though.

Dying seems like a good way of paying off your list of wrongs. Especially to save Yoongi. If only to save Yoongi, if you were being honest.

Witches have a lot of lore about death and where one goes in the afterlife. You’re not sure where you are, if you exist, or if you’re even really a thought. It feels like nothingness and everything all at once, a void of floating consciousness. There’s no pain, but you remember the warehouse. Remember the prowler ripping down the door and coming for you specifically.

And him. You remember Yoongi coming in, looking like a fucking angel of old as he leapt through the skies. Together you might have taken on the beast. But prowlers are notoriously difficult to destroy, and you were in no shape to protect Yoongi, much less fight by his side as a reliable partner.

That left you with one option, and though you knew it would end you, you’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s face swims in your mind. Soft and round, eyes like the bottom of the ocean, a single pink scar carved through his right eye. Mouth soft and petal pink, hair silky and dark, reaching to his shoulders. He’s small for a hunter but he’s strong and broad, his mind his best weapon.

Witch, Yoongi had said. The last words you’d hear from him, spoken with a softness that you’ve never heard from him before. Rain-soaked and wide eyed Yoongi, looking at you like you held the flame of life, like you were something more than a creature on the other side of the trench.

The best thing you could do for him was die.

So you summoned your magic from deep within you, that ancient, sleeping thing. You try not to think about what Yoongi’s last memory of you will be, an eldritch horror that will remind him of the creature that slaughtered his family as a child.

Yoongi will never get to ask his questions. You’ll never get to tell him why you haunt the streets killing your own kind. Yoongi will never know the softness of your kiss. You’ll never know the gentle press of his hands.

Something brushes across your forehead. You feel now and you frown. Or can you frown, in whatever plane of death this is? You’re not sure, but you feel… the weight of your own body. The beating of your own heart. The rush of air through your lungs as you breathe.

Awareness prickles at the back of your neck like a needle. Slowly, you begin to feel solid. Your fingers twist in soft sheets, and when you turn your head, you feel the plushness of a pillow. Smell petrichor and cedar.

It smells like… Yoongi.

“Hmmm?” you feel the vibration in your throat at your unspoken question, nothing but a rumble of noise and confusion. Something cradles your face. “Hunnn..?”

A deep, throaty laugh. “Mmm, I take care of you for a week straight and we’ve moved on to endearments?”

Your eyes flutter open, lids heavy. The world swims into view, a little blurry as your eyes try to focus in the dimly lit room, taking in the bed you’re in and the face hovering above yours.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, your heart expanding with unfettered joy.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

“What?”

“Say it more often.” He leans forward and you watch as his dark eyes drink you in. “And never do that to me again.”

Before you can ask him what that is, Yoongi’s mouth is pressing against yours. You melt immediately, going boneless in a bed you’re unfamiliar with, lost in the citrusy taste of his mouth and the gentle press of his lips. His kiss is soft soft soft, blurring reality as he pulls at your bottom lip teasingly before pulling away.

Eyes fluttering open, you stare at him in wonder. He hovers above your face, haloed by inky-black hair. “Yoongi.”

He smiles. “It sounds much better than hunter. Hun can stay, though.”

“You’re not calling the shots.”

“You’re in no condition to fight me.”

“I killed a prowler, I think you’re no problem.”

His eyes glow. “I think perhaps you’re right. But for now, you’re at my mercy.”

“Kiss me again.” You lift your hands and bring them toward his face, brushing a finger over the bottom of his scar. “And don’t stop this time. I’ll ask my questions later.”

“Of course, witch.”

Yoongi’s kiss is hungrier now. Desperate. Full of all the questions he never asked and you meet him with equal fire. You don’t care that you’ve beat the odds and lived. You don’t care about anything else but the weight of Yoongi straddling your waist and the feel of his velvet soft skin beneath your hands.

Every inch of him is warm, filled with the heat of the hunter’s fire that burns through every member of the Conclave. This hunter burns brighter than the rest, though. Warmth blooms where your fingers press over his stomach and chest, ridding him of his shirt. Fire burns where you grab his arms, arching into him as his teeth skim your throat.

You’ve never felt this in sync with someone, bodies twining together like you were made for one another. Yoongi’s hand is scorching as his touch ghosts down your body, his touch light and teasing as he lowers his mouth to your hardened nipple, catching it and giving a gentle suck.

Honey-dipped moans slip from your mouth. Yoongi’s mouth is wet-hot against your skin, tongue laving hungrily as his hand seeks the heat between your legs. Your thighs open for him easily, giving Yoongi access to the dripping mess of your folds. He curses when his fingers slide between your slit, gathering slick to circle his digits around your clit.

“Fuck,” you hiss, hips twitching. “Don’t bother. I can take you now. Want you now.”

“I told you that you were at my mercy.” You summon your magic, rattling his shelves. Yoongi leans over to your neglected nipple and plucks it with his teeth, making you squeal and shiver, pleasure rattling you. “Fine,” he agrees. “Greedy witch. Should have known.”

“Not greedy,” you shoot back as Yoongi sits up and sheds his pants. Your hands follow him, tracing the faint scars on his stomach, pressing against the muscle of his tapered hips. “I’ve waited for months for you to do something. To say something.”

“I’m not good at that.”

You hum. “It takes me dying for you to take initiative?”

“A lesson hard-learned and never to be repeated.”

Yoongi’s cock is hard, bobbing heavily as he shuffles you under him and presses your thighs open for him. The brown tip is sticky with precum, his shaft long and thick enough to make your cunt ache for him more.

“Nice cock,” you tease as he pumps himself, hand gliding and spreading his precum down his shaft.

He grunts. “Can’t wait to feel this fucking pussy,” he mutters, leaning forward and pressing the tip to your entrance. You make a breathy sound, eyes fluttering shut at the pleasure-pained stretch. “Think you can take it, witch?”

“Yes.”

Yoongi sinks in and you second-guess your statement for a second, but the stretch of his cock pressing you open feels good. Deliriously so, your back arching as he bottoms out. You feel him in your gut, deeper than anything ever before and you whine as he draws his hips back before snapping them forward, punching the breath from your lungs.

He sets a deep, hard pace. You grip his biceps, feeling the muscle flex in his arms. Every part of you is on fire, lit up from the closeness of your bodies as Yoongi leans down and melds your mouths together, continuing to fuck you so deep you know you’ll never forget what it feels like.

Every brush of his cock against your g-spot drives you mad. Every whisper of your name - your name, not witch - makes you shudder. His tongue is hungrily as it brushes against yours, his moans deep and throaty as your pussy grips him tight.

“Fuck,” he pants, sliding a hand down your body to grab your thigh and hoist your leg higher. It changes the angle, making his stroke somehow deeper. Your eyes roll back and your head digs into the mattress as you fist at the sheets. “You can fucking take it.”

“Keep going.”

“As if i could fucking stop.”

You never want him to stop. Fucking you, kisses you, teasing you, shadowing you as you take on the world. You want every part of your life colored with Yoongi. You want him to be a part of your mornings, your fights, your weaknesses, your strengths. You want to rile him up, needle him with little insults that get him going. Tease him to make him laugh and share that secret smile.

Every moment has led to this. You don’t know how you never saw this outcome, here with him, crying out his name as your orgasm crests into an unstoppable force. When you come around him, it’s with his name in your mouth and so much need for him in your heart that you think you might explode with energy for a second time.

After, when you’re wrapped in Yoongi and you feel his hunter’s skin blaze against you, sweat-slick skin pressed close, you think that finally, he’ll ask those questions. You’ll give him answers.

“Don’t do that ever again, witch,” Yoongi warns. “I will follow you into death.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts suga #bts fanfic #minors do not interact #minors dni #bts suga smut #yoongi angst #halis happy agust

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sailor-aviator · 6 months

Text

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of execution, Scout has a plan

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hey guys! Friendly reminder that I have two writing challenges going at the moment! My Christmas Challenge and my Playlist Challenge are both still taking entries! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

Whispers echoed the streets as you made your way back towards the saloon, and you could feel the stares from the last remaining spectators from the crowd earlier. Your eyes scanned the different faces, desperate to find someone you knew. Someone who could help. You spotted Birdie leading Bunny back into the saloon, a look of concern on the teacher’s face as she placed a steadying hand on the back of the saloon girl.

You made a beeline towards the saloon, almost running into a couple of people in the process, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered in that moment was freeing Jake, and if you couldn’t find the Daggers, then Bunny and Birdie would surely have an idea. Pushing through the saloon doors, your eyes immediately landed on the bar where the two girls sat, Birdie stroking a hand up and down Bunny’s back in a soothing gesture. You marched to where they stood, and Birdie looked over at you when you were just a few feet away.

“Scout,” she breathed, tears kissing her lash line as she stared at you. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” You asked her, mouth pressed into a firm line to keep from falling apart completely. It wouldn’t serve you to sit around and mope about the situation. You had to take action, and you knew that the boys were already working on a plan to free Jake. “What happened?”

Birdie looked at you hesitantly, hand still on Bunny’s back. “I don’t know. They took off in the middle of everything. I think Jake used himself as a diversion or something, I’m not sure. Those men came in here and started saying such awful things to Bunny, and then Bob overheard, and, and everything just happened so fast, Scout. It was chaos.”

You nodded, letting out a frustrated breath.

“It’s my fault,” Bunny whispered, picking up her head from where she hung it over her arms. She looked at you with lost, far away eyes, and the sight sent a stab through your heart. “I’m sorry, Scout. This is all my fault.”

“Bunny, no,” Birdie chided, but the other girl shook her head.

“No,” she hiccuped. “I should have never come here. If I hadn’t left New Orleans, none of this would be happening.”

“It’s not your fault,” you muttered. “None of this is your fault. This was a setup from the start, and it was all due to that bastard Isaac.”

“Isaac?” Birdie asked you, eyes still weary. “Who is that?”

“He’s a real sonofabitch,” Bunny murmured, gaze still focused on you. “He comes in here from time to time. He’s got a really bad energy about him.”

“He set this whole thing up,” you scowled. “The remarks, the fight, the arrest. It was all his doing. I’m sure of it.”

“Surely you can tell Sherrif Kazansky about it,” Birdie smiled, hope beginning to shine in her eyes. “You can tell him, and he’ll have to let Jake go!”

“It’s not that simple, Birdie,” you sighed, causing the other girl’s smile to fall. “Marshal Simpson has been itching to get his hands on the Daggers since he got here. It’s the whole reason he came to Maverick in the first place, actually. He’s not going to let Jake go unless I give him a good reason. No, I need to find the other boys and figure out what their plan is to get him out. I can help with that.”

“They’ll probably be lying low until tonight,” Bunny murmured, looking up to lock eyes with you, face set in her usual stoicism. “You’re best bet is to go by Maverick and Penny’s after sunset. They’ll be there.”

You nodded at her, turning to walk away when Birdie caught your arm, forcing you to look back.

“What are you going to do in the meantime, Scout?” She asked, a worried frown on her lips.

“I’m going to go see my brother.”

“Surely there must be something you can do, Benji,” you pleaded, pacing around your brother’s office. He eyed you from where he sat, leaned back in his chair as he regarded you. He watched you pace across the carpet, and you were sure you looked a sight at this point. The ends of your skirts were muddy from running around earlier that morning, and you knew your hair had come out of your neatly tied bun, as you could feel the loose strands kissing your neck.

“Scout,” Benjamin sighed. “Take a seat.”

You shook your head vigorously, casting him a look of displeasure. “There’s no time to sit, Benji. Time is something we don’t have, and I’m wasting it just standing around waiting!”

“Scout-”

“Who knows how long they’ll keep him alive for? You have to represent him in his trial. I’m not asking, Benji. I’m begging you, please do-”

“Scout,” he snapped, leaning forward and pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. Benji always did that when he was preparing to deliver bad news, and you stopped your pacing, heart dropping. He looked back up at you, and you pursed your lips. His eyes were sad, like he knew his next words might break you. “Jake isn’t getting a trial.”

“What do you mean?” You demanded, facing him fully now. Your brow was pinched, mind refusing to make sense of what he was telling you.

“Just that,” he sighed. “Jake isn’t getting a trial. There will be no jury. There will be no judge. His death warrant has already been signed.”

You shook your head, fighting back tears as rage overtook you.

“They can’t do that,” you reasoned, moving forward, placing your hands on his desk as you leaned into him. “There has to be a trial.”

“There won’t be,” Benjamin frowned. “Marshal Simpson was sent here to get rid of the Daggers. Even if there was a trial, it would be a show one at best. Unless someone has a plan to break him out, then Jake stays in jail. There’s nothing else I can do.”

“I thought law and order meant something in this world,” you muttered, feeling the tears sting your eyes once again as you stood up and turned.

“It does, Scout,” Benjamin said gently. “But law and order mean different things to different agendas.”

You glanced back at him, and you once again noted the sadness that his eyes held.

“Go home, Scout,” he sighed. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

The sun had just slipped below the horizon when you stepped out from your hiding spot behind Hondo’s store. Most of the people were milling about in front of the saloon or the brothel, but a few drunken stragglers stumbled down the street, laughing and cheering as they made their way. You stuck to the shadows, taking care not to be seen by anyone as your eyes stayed glued to the door of the jail. It was only a few moments before you saw Beau Simpson step foot out the door, shrugging his jacket on as he made his way down to the saloon. His lips were pursed into a frown as he sauntered over towards the saloon. You waited with bated breath as he slipped past some of the drunken patrons, only letting it loose when he stepped through the swinging doors.

You kept your head down as you hurried down the street, doing your best to hide your face in the shadows. Light streamed out from the windows of the jail, illuminating your face as you stepped up to the door. The door creaked on its hinges as you pushed it open, Sheriff Kazansky looking over at you from where he sat in one of the chairs, feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, looking you over. There was a hint of wonder and mischief in his eyes, a slow smirk coming to rest on his face.

“You shouldn’t be here, darlin’,” he drawled, placing his feet on the floor. “This ain’t no place for a lady such as yourself.”

“Where is he?” You asked him, stepping into the room and quickly closing the door behind you.

“Scout?”

You peered behind the sherif and into the shadows at the familiar voice. You saw a figure shift in one of the cells, and you began to rush towards it. Tom stopped you, standing quickly to block your path and placing his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him, brow furrowed, but all you saw was worry and curiosity swirling in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re ready to see him like this?” He asked you quietly, lips pressing into a thin line as he continued to study you. You squared your shoulders back, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Please,” you murmured, feeling your bottom lip tremble slightly as you pleaded with the older man. “Please let me see him.”

Tom stared at you for a moment longer before glancing at the door.

“You have five minutes, Scout.”

You smiled at him gratefully, turning and making your way back towards the shadows that housed the cells.

Jake was on the floor, leaned up against the far wall facing the bars of the cell. His clothes were ruffled and his hair was mussed, lips pulled into a thin line and eyes were contemplative. When he saw you, he scrambled to his feet, the chains surrounding his wrists and ankles jingling with every movement.

You felt the tears come back with a vengeance as the dam you had built to keep from breaking down all day began to overflow. A sob racked through you, the tears now flowing freely as you all but threw yourself against the cold metal bars. Jake caught you as best he could, the two of you slowly easing down onto your knees. You cried into his arms, feeling your copious amounts of tears staining his shirt as he stroked your hair.

“Please don’t cry, Scout,” he soothed, pressing firm kisses to the top of your head. “Everything is okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you sobbed. “It’s not, so don’t tell me that it is.”

“These things happen, honey girl,” he sighed, holding you tighter, seemingly afraid to let you go. You reveled in how his strong arms felt around you, making you feel like your whole world wasn’t ending in that moment. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

You pulled back to look at him, tears still running down your face, but having slowed to a trickle at this point. “It was Isaac, Jake. It was all a setup. I saw him in the crowd this morning. He planned the whole thing.”

“I know.”

You balked, brow furrowing as you looked at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Jake sighed again, resting his forehead against one of the bars.

“I saw him too.”

“We have to do something, Jake! We have to tell them that this was-” You cried, turning to move away, but Jake grabbed your hand to stop you. You turned back to him, noticing for the first time that his eyes were shining with tears of his own. Your heart dropped at the sight, and you allowed him to pull you back down, his hands cradling your face as he looked at you.

“There’s no time, pretty girl,” he murmured. “There’s just no time left.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, tears starting anew.

“Scout, these past few months have been the happiest of my life. I never thought I’d meet a spitfire like you, let alone get someone like you to love me. I have loved every minute spent with you. I love the way you scrunch your nose when you’re mad. I love when you yell at me when I’m being an idiot. I love when you smile at me when you think I’m not lookin’. I love how you feel in my arms and how completely happy you make me feel.”

“Why does this sound like you’re saying goodbye?” You asked him, a sob shaking your entire body. “You’re not dying on me. If you die, I die, you understand me?”

Jake smiled at you sadly, moving his hands down to dig through his pocket. He raised his shackled hands back up, this time holding onto a golden chain. A small, round pendant hung at the bottom, golden bands intricately woven with small diamond embedded into it.

“I know that it’s not the emerald,” he started, “but it’s all I could afford with the money I had leftover from working at the ranch.”

You stared at the necklace, a thousand different thoughts running through your head. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you had ever seen, made even more so by the honest man who offered it to you. More tears streamed down your cheeks, and you shook your head.

“I don’t want it,” you murmured.

Jakes face dropped, eyes questioning as he looked at you.

“Jake Seresin,” you said firmly, fixing him with your best scowl. “You promised to make an honest woman out of me, and I’ll be damned if I let you worm your way out of keeping that promise, do you hear me?”

Jake let out a startled chuckle, dropping his head to rest on his forearms before looking back up at you with a bemused expression.

“Honey girl, what on earth am I supposed to do with this necklace now?”

“You can give it to me when you get out of here,” you sniffed, eyes tracing over the lines on his face. “You can give it to me, and then you and I are going to grow old together.”

Jake said nothing, all humor leaving his face as he watched you. Before either of you could say anything more, Tom cleared his throat from where he hovered in the doorway, and you glanced back at him.

“Your time is up, Scout,” he said quietly, gently. “The marshal will be back any moment.”

You nodded, looking back at Jake, cupping his cheek and leaning in to press a desperate kiss to his lips. He kissed you back with urgency, reluctantly pulling away, and helping you stand through the bars. You watched as a tear slipped down his cheek, and you reached up to brush it away. He caught your hand, holding it to his face before turning and placing a firm kiss to your palm.

“I’ll see you on the other side, honey girl,” he rasped, letting go of you and stepping back. You didn’t move, and it took Sheriff Kazansky gently grabbing your elbow and pulling you into the other room for you to leave. You scrubbed at your eyes furiously, jumping when the door opened, revealing U.S. Marshal Simpson.

He blinked at you in surprise before his eyes darted over to where Tom was once again sitting at his desk, looking like he had never moved in the first place. Beau shrugged his jacket off and hung his hat on the hook by the door, eyeing you wearily.

“Miss,” he greeted with a nod. “What brings you by?”

Your mind scrambled, trying to find any excuse.

“Poor thing had her purse stolen,” Tom spoke up, shaking his head in disappointment. “Must have happened sometime this morning during all the excitement. It’s a damn shame when a young woman can’t even walk the streets in broad daylight without someone stealin’ from her, wouldn’t you agree?”

Beau hummed, moving to sit in the seat opposite Tom. You grimaced, nodding in agreement.

“Yes,” you sighed, “It had something very valuable to me.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for it,” Tom smiled, nodding towards the door. “Are you gonna be okay by yourself out there?”

“Oh yes,” you nodded, turning to leave. You had to get to the Daggers, and they would surely be at Maverick and Penny’s home by now. “I’ll be just fine. I really appreciate all of your he-”

You stopped as your eyes caught sight of one of the many missing posters hanging on the wall. A familiar face stared back at you, black eyes just as cold and lifeless as they were in person. Isaac.

“Are you alright there, Scout?” Beau asked you, moving like he was going to get up. You glanced back and put on your best smile.

“Yes! Sorry, I just remembered a place I forgot to check for my purse. I’ll have to go there and let you know if I find it.”

As you moved for the door, you heard their last exchange.

“When do you want to do this, Beau?”

“Don’t hang’em til noon, Tom. That gives us time to get everything sorted out.”

Your breath caught in your throat. That wasn’t a lot of time for you to get everything sorted. You gathered your skirts and broke out into a run once you hit the street.

Maverick and Penny’s home was lit up, casting a faint glow out onto the dirt road as you walked up. You could hear muffled chatter coming from inside, and it cut off when you knocked on the door. A moment passed before Penny hesitantly cracked it open, sighing in relief when she saw it was you. She opened the door all the way and quickly gestured you to walk in.

“It’s alright,” she called out ahead of you. “It’s just Scout.”

The two of you entered the parlor where the rest of the Daggers, plus Birdie, Bunny, Natasha, and Maverick all sat scattered around. Birdie rushed to you, enveloping you into a tight hug. You reciprocated, glancing over her shoulder to see Natasha finishing up some of Reuben’s stitches above his eyebrow.

“I really wish you had come found me earlier,” you heard her mutter to him. “This is going to leave a nasty scar now.”

“Well, when the best doctor in town works in the middle of everything, it’s hard to sneak in and out,” he countered with a grimace as she cut the thread.

Maverick looked at you, face melancholic as his eyes met yours. “What brings you by Scout?”

You shifted your attention from him to Bradley, who was leaning against one of the end tables at the far side of the room.

“What’s the plan, Bradshaw?” You asked him, stepping forward. He glanced up at you, brown eyes unreadable as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“What plan?”

“The plan to get Jake out of trouble,” you pressed, fists clenching at your sides. Bradley lifted his head, a look of indifference passing over his face as he looked away. You felt your jaw tick as you watched him.

“Oh, that,” he drawled, eyes still avoiding yours. He shrugged. “There is none.”

“I beg your pardon?” You bit out, rage overtaking you, and you felt Penny place a soothing hand on your back. “What do you mean you don’t have a plan?”

“I mean just what I said,” he snapped at you, eyes now focused on you with a mix of anger and guilt. “You think I have any favors to call in? Shit, Scout. Even Mav and Ice don’t have anymore favors to use on us. There’s no plan because there’s nothing to be done.”

“You owe him,” you ground out, words dissolving into a sob as you felt the tears race down your face once again. “You have to help him, please.”

“I don’t have any chips left to play, sweetheart,” he growled in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Jake hangs tomorrow, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. I hope your time with him was good while it lasted because-”

A smack resounded in the room, followed by deafening silence save for your labored breathing as you fought to control your breathing. Your hand stung from where it had connected with Bradley’s cheek, and you could see his eyes had widened in shock. His head had snapped to the side from the force of your slap, and he slowly turned to look at you, and you could see unshed tears shining brightly in the low light of the room.

“He is not going to die,” you sobbed. Your breaths came out in hard pants as you stumbled forward, clinging on to Bradley’s shirt as you gazed up at him. “He can’t die. You have to help him, please.”

You felt a gentle touch slowly pull you away from the brunette, and you collapsed onto your knees before him, hands grabbing on to any part of him you could reach as you well and truly broke down.

“Please,” you begged once more to no one in particular. “Please, someone help him.”

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