#he got into tree sap

[majimassqueaktoy]

Majima can't have a gf because he would just steal their lingerie and stretch it out all the time and that shits so expensive 😔

#this is so sad </3 #what am i saying. he could steal mine &i wouldnt say anything i wouldnt even complain when it came home with blood stains & tree sap on it #but still this is fundamentally true #hed steal all their shit #oh wheres my nice cardigan #in his shitty nissan ultima with a big tanto slash through the chest bc he got too flashy #anyway idk what im saying #gn #i hope all of you with busy mondays have good day :^)

[doobea]

YOU'RE A MEAN ONE, MISTER GOJO ─ SATORU G.

synopsis: satoru gojo is spoiled and arrogant. he's also the next in line to inherit his family's fortune. his father sends him far away in a small town for a week in hopes that he'll 'change' for the better. instead of the usual five-starred hilton hotels, he stays at a local inn and starts to befriend the owner's daughter.

tropes: small town romance, christmas au, golden retriever x black cat

MILESTONE EVENT || MILESTONE MASTERLIST

contents: fem!reader, spoiled rich boy!gojo, acts like an ass to everyone but hopelessly falls in love with you at first sight, feels like a really bad hallmark movie, mentions of wealth class differences, reader isn't a tsundere - she's just indifferent for the most part and introverted word count: 7.5K (idk i will uh make the fics shorter in the future) a/n: thank you anon for requesting this!! idk if this is what you wanted but hopefully you like it!! :3 everyone also give a round of applause to @popponn for beta reading this big mess LMAO

Satoru Gojo has a lot of expectations, but this certainly isn’t one of them.

He isn’t particularly excited about spending a week away from his big city penthouse to be rotting in a small town motel in the middle of nowhere but, his father, CEO of Gojo Corporations, heavily insisted that he ‘needs this’ and that ‘it’ll be good for the company’ — whatever that means. Satoru is confident that his father thinks he’s incapable of running the family business after last month’s run with the paparazzi and his third fling of the month. It wasn’t his fault that they got caught doing drugs at one of Zenin's parties, everyone else was doing the same thing, it just so happened that the cameras were only focusing on him. 

Well, that’s what he gets for signing up to be the son of one of the richest men on Earth.

“You need to start taking this seriously,” he recalls his father slamming his fist down at the desk before throwing a bottle of Henessy at the wall. “I don’t want this company to go bankrupt just because I have a son who only thinks with his dick.”

Ouch… but he’s not wrong about that.

So now Satoru finds himself driving up a winding road somewhere very deep in the mountains. Exactly five hours away from the city. And, for the past three hours, all he’s been seeing are miles and miles of pine trees, sheets of snow, and — he had recently learned this from Suguru — sugar shacks. Apparently when you’re out over a hundred miles into wilderness territory these sap houses are littered everywhere.  The fact that Satoru is beginning to count more shacks than designer cars on the road is really starting to get to him. 

“This whole thing is so fucking stupid,” Satoru has also been talking to himself throughout the journey in order to not lose his mind. “He could’ve just sent me door to door caroling instead of whatever this is.” Satoru doesn’t know how to sing well, but he does know all the lyrics to ‘Baby It’s Cold Outside’ and that usually gets him all the tips. He wonders if he can manage to make a small side hustle when he starts wasting his week here.

He takes a sharp turn up around the hill before finally recognizing a big red sign with the name ‘Mistle Town’ as seen on the postcard his dad left him before leaving. It takes him another five minutes of driving through said small town, which is quite literally something out of one of those really bad holiday movies that his mom would force him to watch when he was little, before arriving at the inn. Upon arriving, Satoru is noticeably disappointed at the lack of valet assistance and, the size and design of the inn, is rather lackluster. 

First, it just looks like a regular white farmhouse. Maybe having a max of ten rooms, none of them being penthouse sized, Satoru assumes. There are a couple of flowerbeds out front, all covered in a couple of inches of snow, and there’s subtle signs of holiday decor slowly bleeding its way outside. He sees someone dressed in an oversized puffer by the entrance, arms occupied with red tinsel and large white ornaments, and figures that the first nice thing he’ll do is to help out a random stranger — just to prove something to his dad.

Satoru parks his Rolls Royce in a spot furthest away from everyone else in the parking lot and sends a ‘im alive and well’ text to Suguru, because he’s very much so going to be in frequent contact with him for the remainder of the trip, before heading up.

“Need a hand?” He points out the obvious but still manages to throw a smile as if he’s already fixed the situation unfolding in front of him.

Satoru’s presence seems to pull you from your busy trance. You wiped your body around, nearly smacking the damn tinsel in his face, and made a small surprised noise.

“I’ve got it,” you muffle out and he looks entirely unconvinced but, whatever, he tried anyway.

Satoru gives you a few encouraging pats on the back before heading inside, failing to realize his strength and causing you to lose your balance, making a few ornaments tumble to the ground. Thank god they’re all plastic though.

He pretends to not hear you yelling after him as he enters the double doors, immediately greeted by the scent of roasted coffee beans and leather. It’s the precious hour in the morning where nobody comes by, right after the cleaning staff had just finished vacuuming, when he struts in. He immediately spots someone vaguely familiar by the front desk. Long black hair, a red poofy bow tie in the back, and a distinctive scar across her face. The woman isn’t working alone, a man with another facial marking is next to her, brewing two cups of coffee by the espresso machine. 

Satoru looks at the woman again and outwardly smiles. “What are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” Utahime’s composure immediately falters at the sound of his voice, not that it’s a big shock. “Helping the family business, what else?” she throws back with a certain sharpness to her tone, and waves off the casual talk. “Have you even mentally prepared yourself for what you’re getting into?”

Satoru simply shrugs and saunters over to a nearby seat by the counter. “Nah, honestly just planning to fuck around till I get back.”

Utahime flushes a little, though it’s mainly from frustration. “Satoru Gojo, you really are—”

“Utahime,” the man next to her speaks, handing her a cup of coffee, and slides Satoru a freshly brewed one, too. “I can explain the details to him, if you would like?”

The older female rubs the bridge of her nose and exhales a long, overdue sigh. “Please do, Choso.”

“Yeah,” Satoru leans into the counter, lips pointed down at this new face. “Please, do tell.”

“You’re basically our little Santa helper.” A new voice rings out from behind him. It spooks Satoru from his seat and he whips his head around to be met with your narrow eyes.

“Huh?”

“Also think of this as an unpaid internship.” You start laughing when he gags on his own saliva at your statement. “Okay, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Satoru swallows. “U-Unpaid…?”

Now it’s Utahime’s turn to speak, she huffs and tosses a couple of stockings into his arms. “Your father sent us a lengthy email a few days prior regarding your bratty behavior. So, of course, we came prepared.” 

“Prepared…?” He feels the fabric in his hands and whines at the grainy texture. This is so not 100% real wool.

If Satoru thought he had any chance of actually taking over his father’s company, because he knows the difference between supply and demand, he’s wrong.

Customer service is not his forte. He’s always thrown emails and sponsorship paperwork at his many assistants, and Satoru doesn’t even know his own email log-in password. So, when you walked up to him first thing the next morning with a brown apron, the inn’s logo large and embroidered in the center, telling him how to function all these coffee machines that he’s seen behind hundreds of counters, it invoked some fear into his already wrecked nerves. Plus, no one dared to warn him about the clientele during a holiday rush.

“I want a venti peppermint frappe with two pumps of chocolate, three pumps of hazelnut, replace it with almond milk, one shot of espresso, and top it off with a drizzle of caramel on top.”

He slumps against the counter. “You sure you want all of that?”

“Can I please get a half dozen sfogliatella and a cannoli?

He starts picking at his cuticles and sneers. “Sorry, I don’t speak Italian.” 

“My change is supposed to be five dollars, you only gave me three back?”

Satoru groans. “You’re trying to scam me, aren’t you?”

By the end of his four hour shift, Satoru feels like he’s just done more charity work than he’s ever done in his life — actually, maybe this could also be comparable to the time where he did the ribbon cutting ceremony at Chanel; gotta support small businesses, right?

“Gojo.” You’re seated across from him behind the counter, arms crossed and pursed lips.

He barely spares you a glance as he idly plays whatever shitty mobile game that’s number one on the app store. “Mhm? What is it?” He clearly knows you’re upset, your voice practically screams ‘I will end you’ in the most monotonous way possible. But can you blame him? Of all places, Satoru does not want to spend his winter break here.

You jerk your head to the side, fingers rhythmically tapping away on the counter, clearly unimpressed. “It hasn’t even been a full day and you’ve managed to piss off every single customer.”

Satoru expression shifts, brow creasing, and sighs, grabbing a handful of mint chocolate from the freebie candy jar by the register. “Don’t be dramatic,” he rolls his eyes and shoves three pieces in his mouth before jabbing a finger at a young man. “I didn’t piss him off!”

You glower, cheeks slightly puffed out. “That’s Yuuji and he’s practically a family friend and Choso’s little brother, so he doesn’t count,” you explain before adding, “Plus, he’s literally nice to everyone. You’re not special.”

And for a second, Satoru considered arguing that fact. Having been born into wealth, granted whatever wish he wanted, his butlers and maids are always on speed dial, that’s the lifestyle he’s used to. Placed on this tiny rock called Earth just to take over it one day, is what his father used to always say to him. But how can he, Satoru Gojo, take over when he’s stuck working a minimum — scratch that, unpaid — wage job as punishment? 

Instead of fighting, Satoru slumps against the counter and pouts, like a little kid who just got their toy taken away. You and your sister Utahime have a clear advantage over him, by somehow being close, yet distant, friends to his family. Maybe karma is real. 

“I’m putting you on ski lessons later.”

Satoru’s ears perk at this. “Oh, so I get some employee benefits, right?”

You roll your eyes, digging deep in your pockets to pull out a sheet with his name next to a list of others. “Wrong. You’re in charge of teaching five year olds how to ski.” 

“Huh?”

Somehow that sounds even worse than being a barista. Kinda. 

By the end of his first day of unemployment, Satoru tries to convince himself that a full change of scenery is nice. Well, he has to convince himself, otherwise he’s stuck dreading each coming day for the rest of the week. 

“Tired yet, Gojo?”

You flop down on a spare armchair in his room, squishing his Canada Goose jacket underneath. He’s too tired to yell at you to get off and tumbles onto his bed, feet dangling off the edge, letting out a loud groan when his face immediately makes contact with the rough wooly blanket. Surprisingly to him, everything just feels so comfortable that the quality of the products doesn’t even cross his mind.

Sure, the air in the room is a bit musty, and he can feel his cheeks flaring up from the sudden change in temperature and the dull aching nag in his legs from demonstrating ski tricks to toddlers, but there’s an odd sense of fulfillment swelling in his chest just about now. He almost suggests taking over Choso’s lesson but, according to the hotel pamphlet, there’s going to be an ice fishing tournament tomorrow and he kinda wants to check that out, too.

“Exhausted,” he mumbles into the sheets, eyes squeezed shut. Satoru wiggles his body around for a few moments before slipping out of his snow boots and stares out the window, noticing flickering green and purple lights in the night sky. “Woah, are those…?”

He hears you laugh beside him. “Yeah, northern lights. We see them all the time during the winter.”

“Only seen them bitches in ‘Polar Express’.” Satoru finds himself saying whatever’s on his mind right now, his brain too whipped out to control his mouth. “You guys are lucky to see this every night.”

“I know you’re all pooped out from today but,” he feels the mattress dip by the edge and your fingers poking at his thighs. “Did you wanna head up to the balcony and watch them for a bit?” you say this experimentally, waiting for his reaction. 

Satoru might be a stranger to most natural phenomenons, having to zone out all the time whenever he did go on family vacations to a fancy national park when he was younger. Though, during the short time of spending his time here, it makes him think about packing up and leaving behind the fast paced city life for a bit of natural beauty and brightness.

“Carry me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re like a giant.” 

He manages to gather some energy to sit up on his elbows. “You should at least have some form of hospitality to a family friend, you know?”

You eye him for a long moment, and then finally huff, breaking the contact to kick your feet into the festive carpeted floor. “Alright, just don’t lean your whole body weight on me.”

“Wouldn’t count on that.”

Both of you end up tumbling onto the balcony rails around one in the morning. As expected, Satoru couldn’t keep to his promise, throwing his ridiculously long arms around your shoulders, and whining the whole way up the stairs. It’s not his fault that the inn didn’t have an elevator installed. In all, it’s not a bad day — a bad night, even. 

You straighten him against the railing before throwing a blanket over him. The fabric is thick and heavy, and Satoru forgets the ache in his limbs as he watches the way your eyes focus, eyebrows knitted, when you’re making sure he stays bundled up against the winter air. Once upon a time, Satoru never would’ve thought he would actually enjoy being in the company of someone who’s actively trying to teach him a lesson.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, almost like a reminder that you need to breathe, and pull away from him once he’s wrapped tightly like a swaddled baby. 

You both sit in silence for a moment, and Satoru feels the urge to fill all that silence. He supposes maybe that’s why most people find him so annoying. He never really shuts up, always wants to add the last comment to everything. Though, with the help of Suguru by his side, it’s gotten slightly easier and bearable for others but, when his head is big and full of loud thoughts, it’s so hard trying to calm the buzzing noise in his head and —

“Gojo, look,” your pointer finger darts at the illuminated skyline in the distance and he snaps his head, following the trail, before gasping.

He feels your other hand tugging at the blanket when he finally makes out two faint bright lights in the distance. You squirm slightly next to him, to the point where your shoulders touch, and Satoru finally breathes, because suddenly, there’s heat rushing in. The loud, rough winds around him seem to die down and he’s aware of the slightly gazed expression on your face as you look into the far distance.

“Did you make a wish?” he finds himself whispering.

You grin. “Yeah, gonna make you work here for eternity,” you reply back in good natured spirit.

Something stirs inside Satoru. Something important. Well, Satoru-level important, so in the grand scheme of things, not very — but still. He unravels parts of his blanket and throws it over your head, making sure that it messes up your hair, and laughs when you throw him another pout. 

“Did you make a wish?” you adjust the blanket so it covers your shoulders, moving a little closer to him, avoiding the cool breeze.

Satoru nods but presses a finger to his lips. “Not telling, though. Might not come true if I do.”

“Oh, shoot. Maybe I should’ve kept mine a secret then.”

He rolls his eyes and nudges your waist with an elbow. “You will definitely not see me here again.”

Satoru realizes, very fast, that his life has become very different, very quickly. And it might not be the bad kind of different. 

Over the course of the next few days, he’s practically glued to your side as you’re showing him all things related to hospitality that his father tried to drill into him when he was a pre-teen. Obviously, it didn’t work at the time. Satoru’s known for being defiant just because he wanted to, and eventually his father stopped with the after school etiquette lessons. You, on the other hand, unfortunately have him tied around your fingers.

“You need to tidy up the edges more, Gojo.”

“There’s barely a wrinkle in these sheets!” He points at the bed sheet on the mattress, the one that he’d been working on for the last ten minutes in vain while you stood next to him with slightly concerned eyes. It’s a room service type of lesson today and, even though Satoru has never made his own bed before, he’s positive that he didn’t leave behind any smudges that might catch anyone’s eye.

“Did you check tuck in the sides? Or are you trying to get off easy for today?” You say, there’s a mild accusation in your tone when you speak, smiling as you step aside. 

And, despite the warm smile, Satoru frowns a little, because guess who forgot to tuck in the sides? 

When Satoru ducks his head around the mattress and sees a good loose chunk of the sheets hanging off and groans when you’re right. “It’s not my fault that they’ve made them so big for no reason,” he replies, somewhat embarrassed, rubbing the back of his head and messing up his already ruffled hair.

You roll your eyes and stick a tongue out. “You’re getting the hang of it though, maybe even faster than Yuuji when he first offered to help.”

He flushes at the unexpected praise and quickly fixes the sheets, turning his whole entire body away from your sight. “Better than Yuuji, right?”

“Oh? So, you only work better with compliments, Gojo?” You sound amused, as if a lightbulb just popped on top of your head.  

Satoru flattens out the bed once more, strangely now feeling satisfied with the final outcome before turning around, sticking out a tongue of his own. “Only if it’s from you,” he answers, honestly. 

You laugh, and hopefully it’s not at him. “I thought you would be more annoying to deal with.”

“So, I’m just regular amounts of annoying?” He points out, with a fake frown, his fingers fiddling with the edges of the sheet.

You turn your gaze, seemingly in deep thought, before responding with a small shrug and grin. “Possibly a perfect amount of annoying.”

Satoru feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, again. “Well, of course, it’s the perfect amount because I’m perfect,” he replies, instantly, but suddenly he’s shy and feels the need to go to the next room to fix their stupid sheets before he combusts in front of you.

“Gojo,” you say, almost hesitantly. 

He swallows and rubs the back of his neck, wiping off evidence of his sweaty palms. “Yeah?”

“You missed a spot,” and your pointer fingers direct at the far right corner of the bed frame. He must’ve pulled the sides too hard and it caused the other side to flip over. Ugh, he’s not cut out for this at all.

“I’m… uh, still better than Yuuji, right?”

“Mhm, getting there, Gojo.”

By day four, Satoru has surprisingly adjusted to the rules and responsibilities. He’s not entirely sure what’s gotten him mildly well behaved, Suguru is a bit surprised by the daily updates being less… aggressive and whiny. What started as long vent paragraphs about the lack of heated flooring and needy customers, soon turned into photo albums of kids face planting into the snow and unconsented selfies with you in the background. Satoru absolutely makes sure you end up looking the worst out of the two because he’s gotta let his best friend know who’s the prettiest and he’s definitely racking up a blackmail album of all of your worst moments in case anything happens in the future. 

It’s closing time and he just got back from the reindeer shed out in the back, covered head to toe in all things hay and snow. First things first, and no one bothered to tell him, but reindeers smell bad. Like, really bad. Especially at the end of the day, where their pens are covered in shit and countless carrots and apple bits from the little kids overfeeding them. Satoru is vaguely aware of the fact that he smells, just like he’s vaguely aware that the hotel lobby is oddly quiet from the usual banter between you and the usual workers.

Utahime and Choso are sitting by the cafe bar, seemingly deep in conversation about ordering more supplies for next week. Satoru thinks about interrupting their session with probably an unrelated dumb question, but the idea dies when Utahime notices his presence and motions him to come over. 

“You stink,” Satoru casts a half-glare at Utahime and begins picking out some of the scattered hay pieces stuck to his sweater. 

“For the record, I became good friends with Rudolph and Vixen today,” he grumbles back and Choso throws him a pat on the back.

“Hey, I don’t mind your stink, by the way. Smells kinda nice,” Choso offers up, but Satoru only shoots him a very unhappy look.

“If you think I smell nice then I’m really worried about what you think smells bad,” then he turns over to Utahime again, who’s engrossed in whatever is on her clipboard right now. “So, what did you need from me?”

“My sister,” she starts and taps away at the clipboard before handing it over to him. It’s pages upon pages of invoices from the past month. “Could you hand this to her? She should be in the back.”

“You treating me like an errand boy?”

Utahime scoffs. “What? Don’t wanna see her?”

“No, I do,” he responds, a bit too fast for his own liking, and straightens out. “Uh, is that all?” Satoru hopes his face doesn’t betray how much he’s a bit excited to interact with you, given that today was a full day out in the trenches, and he absolutely needs to hear you say his name at least twice a day in order to have a good night’s sleep.

Choso is trying really hard not to laugh, and Satoru takes it as a sign that he currently has a cheesy smile on his face — go figure. “One of the corner rooms upstairs requested a weighted blanket, mind also doing that too?”

There’s a certain relief that floods through Satoru and he thinks maybe he can take on a few more tasks for the night if that means spending a little more time with you, even if his body is screaming that he needs to take a two hour long shower. 

“Hey,” he starts to say when he rounds the corner, “Where’d you put those weighted blankets again?”

Satoru expected to walk in on you neck-deep in paperwork. You’ve mentioned earlier in the week that this year would be the busiest and there’s a bunch of stuff due. Something about end of the year tax returns and inventory counts, it all goes out his ear but he remembers something similar that his father told him in a prior conversation. He thinks he could probably help you figure out some of it, but that might be a bit much.

What he walks in on, thought, is you sitting in your little makeshift office. You’re on your laptop, the screen’s tilted just right enough that he gets a glimpse of what you’re looking at. You’re looking at flights and hotels, even got a whole spreadsheet on the second monitor. From what he’s seen of you so far, you didn’t come off as the type to talk about your future that much.

His voice catches you by surprise and your expression flickers from something vaguely focused to embarrassment real quick. You hastily close out the tabs and go back to the hotel’s homepage.

“What is it, Gojo?” And there’s this awkward, oddly frantic moment of you fumbling around with the keyboard and mouse, like a teenage boy who’s just got caught looking at porn.

“Ah,” Satoru thinks seeing your flustered side is rather adorable, to say the least. “You tryin’ to plan a vacation or something?” He struts over to your desk, placing a firm hand onto the back of the chair, and there’s this smile on his face that just screams ‘gotcha’.

Your face scrunches up but it’s not out of annoyance. “Kinda?”

Even with a grumpy look, it’s a good look on you. Makes you kinda dark, brooding, and beautiful, and it turns your eyes into dark storm clouds, or some other weird, waxy poetic shit that Satoru can’t figure out the words to. Either way, Satoru thinks you look cute and can’t stop noticing your little facial movements. You’re more expressive than you would probably imagine.

“Ooh, where to?”

You sigh and start playing with your thumbs. “Malaysia. My friend told me great things about it and I’ve been meaning to go for a while now but time and money are always iffy.”

“Makes sense, I can imagine that being an inn assistant doesn’t pay all the bills.”

That was probably the wrong thing to say. You huff and glare, an icy-death glare, at him. If looks could kill, Satoru is sure that he’ll be six feet underground by now. 

“Weighted blankets are on the second floor closet by the laundry room,” you answer his initial question curtly before shutting the laptop. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“It was just a question,” he mumbles slowly, and maybe even a little dangerously. “If money’s an issue—”

“Gojo.” Your voice is fixed and rigid, one that leaves absolutely no room for debate. “Your dad was right about you; you always just fall back to your fame and wealth.”

As you’re busy staring, Satoru realizes that you’re kinda being a total ass to him right now.

“That’s not fair,” his voice is rising and can’t seem to put a stop to the words spilling out. “Don’t bring my dad into this conversation.”

“Or what? You can go back to your privileged life anytime you want. This is just a field trip for you while others actually have to try hard and make a living.” You spit out. 

“No one forced you to become an inn worker, you know? If you’re so worried about money then you could’ve just found another high paying job.” Satoru wrinkles his nose and his volume continues to rise. 

You immediately offer him a dark glare and it comes off in a cut-throat way that shuts Satoru up mid thought. The rest of his counters die in his throat when you start making hand gestures at the office exit and he gets the hint: ‘leave before I lose my shit’ is the calling he sees.

And it works, because he finds his tone shifting a little, awkwardly kicking the floor and backing off. “Whatever…”

That was last night and, by now, Satoru is realizing that he’s kind of a giant asshole and the guilt is slowly eating away at him. Was he always like this? It couldn’t have been — he’s only met you a few days ago, and this is only meant to be a quick, ‘vacational’, getaway. Sure he might be a bit selfish and a dick, but he had been able to function perfectly fine before all of this, hadn’t he? 

Satoru’s not really sure.

It’s noon, and he’s lying in bed. Choso had asked him to cover his shift at the cafe, and he’d agreed, readily, even though it’s supposed to be his day off, because you’re working. Choso had texted him, though, saying that you had simply said you’d work the entire shift by yourself.

Of course. It’s absolutely not funny anymore.

Satoru sighs. He’s going to apologize, that’s for sure. It wounds some of his pride, yeah, but whatever, this tension between you guys, though, isn’t worth it. He finds himself wasting his entire morning away rotting in bed. There are things that he could be doing, that he looks forward to, like feeding the reindeers or demonstrating basic ski moves to little kids. Choso and Yuuji totally got him addicted to yelling out ‘pizza’ and ‘french fry’ at every chance he gets. They also got him addicted to a shitty relationship forum they both browse, but somehow the idea of reading other people’s relationship drama, when he’s facing drama of his own, is kinda mentally exhausting.

On second thought, maybe he should post on that forum, actually.

It might not be such a bad idea.

Or maybe he could reach out to Suguru and ask how to apologize? 

His best friend is a bit more grounded and attuned with other people’s feelings compared to him, afterall. Satoru’s not good at this stuff and he’s always just cut others off whenever they do argue, but this feels different. And, well, for the first time in forever, Satoru is desperate. 

“I fucked up big time and I need to apologize, help me out here?”

Suguru scoffs over the line. “Wow, what happened to saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Hi, hello. How are you? How do I make a sincere apology?”

“I’m good, thank you. Now, for your request, depends on how big the fuck up is.”

He bites his tongue, finding the right words to essentially not sound like a huge dick but, no matter how he wants to rephrase it, the outcome is the same. “I might’ve implied that she’s poor and needs someone to take care of her?” It sounds so stupid, so mean, and so degrading now that he’s saying it out loud. 

He hears Suguru sucking in his teeth and sighs. After a couple of pauses, his best friend finally speaks. “That’s pretty fucked up.”

Satoru frowns. “Okay, yeah, it is,” and he sits up in his bed when a snowball makes an impact against the window. It’s Utahime. And, currently, she’s throwing him the nastiest glare that a woman has ever given him in his life. “Um, I’ll call you back, buddy…”

“What? I haven’t given you—”

“Don’t have time for unwarranted advice right now.”

“You called me!”

“Bye!” Satoru ends the call before shuffling towards the window, swallowing a hard lump, and inches the glass panel just small enough for him to hear coherently and not big enough for her to punt him across the face. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

But Utahime is in an obvious shitty mood and Satoru’s lack of charming antics aren’t going to work this time. “I’m going to apologize, I promise,” he tries to insist.

“This is all your fault,” she immediately gets to the point and it makes him shrink back just a tiny bit. He’s starting to see that the bluntness runs in the family. “Just get your ass to work.”

“But my shift doesn’t start till—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Utahime starts to form an even bigger snowball and raises it to the window panel. “Ass out of bed, now.”

Okay, so as much as Satoru had tried to tell himself that this week wouldn’t be bad, it’s really starting to get fucking awful.

Everyone’s in a shit mood. Yuuji tries to crack some jokes but the usual crowd isn’t having it. You’ve been throwing Satoru dirty looks while working behind the cafe counter together and he’s been put on drink duty — which is his worst nightmare — while you’re attending to the customers because you’re young and cute enough for them to be nice to you. Satoru has spilled hot coffee and chocolate on himself like four times so far, and the shift just started. He’s terrified that the rest of this week is going to be like this.

“Can we talk?” Satoru whisper shouts over the espresso machine.

He sees your shoulders tensing up but immediately relaxes them afterwards. “Did you hear something, Yuuji?”

The boy looks up from the bar counter, it’s his day off and he’s catching up on some homework, but the seemingly growing tension that’s unfolding in front of him is making it painfully hard for him to focus on anything engineering related. Yuuji scratches the back of his neck before darting his eyes back and forth between the two of you. Normally, he would be the voice of reason, but Satoru doesn’t blame him when he shakes his head.

“N-Nah, must’ve been the wind or something...” 

Great, he’s been reduced to an air draft.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you agree without missing a beat. As the next customer in line spends an eternity holding everyone up, debating whether to get the seasonal muffin or french toast to go with their drink, you continue, “Thought I heard a rotten brat for a second.”

He absolutely doesn’t expect the harsh insult. Satoru widens his eyes at the outburst and there’s a small pause, the silence ticking in between everyone, and he’s sure that you’re glaring him down somewhere in a small reflection on the counter. 

Satoru debates whether to call out your name and shake some sense into you, but Yuuji quickly swallows and makes a motion with his hands to his throat, a universal signal saying — ‘I wouldn’t test the waters, if I were you’.

And, after the customer finally decides that they didn’t want any pastries with their coffee order, you finish the transaction before announcing that you’re going on a small fifteen minute break to “stretch”. Though, anyone could see that you’re planning to cool off before you manage to actually blow up in Satoru’s face.

“How the hell am I going to talk to her?” he groans to Yuuji once you’re finally away. He’s managing the cash register and, surprisingly, finishes taking the remaining orders quite smoothly compared to his first day. At least he can pat himself on the back for this. 

“You’ve really pissed her off, dude,” Yuuji replies and Satoru just rolls his eyes because that’s all he’s been hearing from everyone else all day today. “You should talk to her when she’s not… charged up.”

“Way to point out the obvious.” Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji is a bit oblivious. How is he doing so well as a mechanical engineering major? 

Yuuji makes an audible ‘pop’ and whistles. “What did you even say to her?”

Satoru groans into his hands. “Did she not tell you?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly in a chippy mood to talk about anything this morning — outside of work, that is.”

“Here’s a little TLDR version: might’ve said something classist.”

“Might’ve?”

“Okay, definitely said something classist.”

“Then…” Yuuji drums his fingers against the counter, deep in thought. “Y’know, whenever me and Megumi fight, I always invite him out to the movies to try and cheer him up. Might not be applicable to you but…”

Satoru blinks. “Are you suggesting a date would help?”

“Maybe not a date—”

“No, I’m sorry for calling you dumb, you’re so right—a nice date might work!”

“You never called me dumb, though?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Satoru unravels the ribbon on his apron and throws it in Yuuji’s general direction, not caring if he tossed the stained uniform directly in his face. He hops the counter and pats the younger male on the shoulder, flashing him a genuine smile because, hey, maybe Yuuji actually is smarter than he looks.

“Gonna totally invite you to the wedding.”

It’s no secret that Satoru Gojo hasn’t been on a proper date in a pathetically long time.

He has swiped right on a number of highly influential celebrities and figures on dating apps before. Matched with nearly all of them. Gone on…maybe a lot of first dates with not a lot of second dates coming right after. Who cares though, everyone’s just there for the photos and followers anyway. Satoru knows that he’s attractive and that he personally loves big, lavish dates but, at this point, he knows you enough to understand you absolutely hate big gestures. 

After a short winded conversation with Suguru and Utahime, separately, Satoru has concluded on not buying you first class tickets to Malaysia. 

“Are you trying to get her to hate your guts?” Was the general consensus of the conversation with said people. 

So, what’s the next best option if he can’t fly you out to Malaysia? The answer is pretty simple — bring Malaysia to Mistle Town. And no, he’s not going to be relying on his black card for anything, even though the back of his mind is telling him otherwise. 

Choso blinks several times at Satoru’s printed out proposal. The colorful letters and Google image photos of beaches and coconuts slapped poorly onto the document screams back at Choso and Yuuji, bright and early on Christmas Eve. 

It’s unusual for Satoru to be bouncing excitedly in place for someone other than himself. So this catches everyone off guard. 

Yuuji whispers something intangible to Choso, but Satoru is able to make it out as, “Do we even have coconuts here?”

To which Choso replies, “It’s winter, so I don’t think so.”

And Yuuji moves onto the next question in queue, “What should we do about the lack of palm trees?”

A patient sigh from Choso, “We could always trim the pine trees outside?” He lamely suggests. 

“It’s a good idea, no?” Satoru jumps right back in, completely missing the flat vibe from the brothers. He frowns. “Why are you guys giving me that look?” 

And, like his best friend and your sister, the brothers throw him a confused head tilt. 

“Well,” Yuuji weakly starts, “Your plan ‘Project: Bring Malaysia here in hopes of Y/N falling in love with me’ doesn’t really sound that great… even on paper.”

Satoru grins, fully expecting that to be the response. “I’ll order the things, don’t worry about it. I just need to borrow your lungs for this project.”

Yuuji scratches his cheek in confusion, laughing nervously again. “Our lungs…?” he echos. 

“How long do I have to keep this dumb blindfold on, Choso?”

“U-Um,” Choso shoots Satoru a brow as he carefully guides you through the hotel lobby. 

It’s currently decked out from head to toe in all things yellow, green, and pink beach themed inflatables. Choso and Yuuji reminded Satoru last night that maybe two flamingos would’ve been enough to get the message across, but seeing that he ordered a whole colony? Yeah, he’s sending the rich boy prayers as he reels you in further, avoiding collision with the colorful balloons and seven-foot tall palm trees, too.

“Choso?”

He squeezes your shoulders when Satoru shoots him a thumbs up. “Ten seconds.”

Satoru quietly walks over to both of you, tip toeing so the sounds of his loafers are minimized against the flooring. Once he’s inches away, Choso retreats off into a different room, mouthing to him words of final encouragement, which Satoru gladly took. 

You appear restless under the blindfold. “I swear to god, if I take it off and there’s a giant pile of reindeer shit in the middle of the lobby I will actually kill somebody—”

And Satoru quietly debates whether or not he wants to keep you like this for a little while before revealing the big surprise. Seeing you flustered and confused is a very cute look on you, after all. But, he’s gotten you this far and it would absolutely kill him to leave you on such a bad notice. It’s now early evening, and the sun’s just starting to set enough that the golden rays illuminate your features from this angle. It takes Satoru back to his first private meeting with you on the balcony and he remembers why he’s even doing this in the first place.

Carefully and slowly, he slips down the blindfold and softly calls out your name. “Hey, take a look around you.”

Your eyes are blown wide when you see his face. Anger and frustration dissipate from your face when you soon realize that Satoru carries a soft expression. He watches as the emotions wash off as quickly as they came. Then, you finally take a look around your surroundings and gasp. “You—You did all of this for me?”

Satoru tenses a little, a bit on the edge. “You want the short or long answer?”

You don’t notice because you’re too preoccupied with the numerous fake flamingos around you. “On second thought, maybe no answer would also work.”

He laughs at this, slightly, before turning shy again. He feels silly, ashamed, and it makes his cheeks flush. “I wanted to say sorry again for what I said earlier.”

“You finally want to talk about it?”

He looks at your idle hands and then back to your face. When he sees that you don't move them away as he inches closer, he takes both of them into his palms, giving them a tight squeeze. “Yeah, I was a big idiot and I thought I was trying to help in the beginning but I just sounded—no, I am—a giant ass.” Satoru concludes. 

The atmosphere grows quiet and heavy again. The air humid and thick despite the opened windows and you’re looking at him. Then, there are tiny little smiles that break out on your face, like freckles and stars in the sky. 

“You’re such a pillow princess,” and he outright blushes ten shades darker at the nickname, “you’re lucky you’re cute.” Coming from you, that’s as good as a love confession.

I like you, he thinks, but doesn’t say it. He really likes you and doesn’t want to fuck this up.

But, everyone knows that Satoru Gojo is a child at heart. 

Satoru doesn’t know who gives in first; realistically, it might’ve been one of those stupid, rare, impossible moments where it’s completely shared. Suddenly the gaudy blow up palm trees and inflatable pool blur from his vision and he feels the world roaring around him when your palms rest on his cheeks. He ducks his head down but you’re the one who closes the distance between. 

You taste like strawberries and lavender, smell like warm cocoa, and feel softer than any sherpa blanket he’s had. Satoru closes his eyes and his vision goes white, his hands shakily snake around your waist, pressing you hard against his chest as if you might disappear at any moment. Satoru sighs into the kiss, it feels pleasantly warm, that throb in his chest, it’s a slow, steady thrum of simmering desire and comfort. He’s pretty sure he’s adding way too much tongue, the drool and saliva that comes dripping between you two will be uncomfortable soon, but for now, it adds to the blissed out, satisfaction you’re both basking in.

Finally, you pull away, shortening yourself a good several inches from planting the rest of your feet on the ground. Your eyes are glossed over, watery and looking at him without vexation. “You’re something else.” You say, but there’s no bite.

Satoru doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s too focused on the feeling of your warm fingers sprawled all over his heating face. Too focused on the dull pulse of both nervousness and infatuation slowly spreading through his body because you’re giving him that look. This all feels romantic and stupid, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, again.” The words are quiet, hesitant, and Satoru almost regrets them the moment he speaks.

You shift around a little, now dancing on the balls of your feet, but the grasp you have on his cheeks is still relatively firm, even applying a bit of more pressure as if it’s your way of showing reassurance. You tip your head; your eyes are so vivid and bright, it sends a shiver down Satoru’s spine. In this moment, he remembers every single thing between them in shocking detail — the awkwardness, the tension, the frustration, the dumb banters, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a private city tour,” you laugh. “And come back to work with us again next year.”

Satoru offers a small smile. “Unpaid?”

“Will you say no if it is?”

He hugs you tighter, a chuckle bubbles in his throat. “I don’t think I can say no because it’s you.”

Though, while some might think that Satoru is the real loser here for being whipped so hard over a small town girl, you know that deep down the real loser is you. Because you managed to have the son of a CEO wrapped around your fingers and now you will never know peace again. But you’re not really complaining; instead, you’re working even harder to save just enough to eventually see your dream destination while Satoru whines and sends an ungodly amount of selfies everyday when he’s back home. And you won’t allow yourself to get snappy because, well, you’re very much head over heels for him, too.

© 2023 DOOBEA. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.

#event: i got my eyes on youೄྀ࿐ˊˎ #doobea writing #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x female reader

[dorcas4meadowes]

Strawberry Kisses - Luke

Castellan

Pairing: Luke Castellan × Reader

Summary: with a majority of the summer campers away, you and Luke indulged in the quiet through strawberry picking and a picnic date

Warnings: bodies of water, kisses

W/c: 1.5k (I think)

»»———-　　———-««

Sunlight hit Luke's features ever so sweetly, casting a golden halo over his tousled curls. He led you through the paths which were weaved between bushes allowing your fingers to grasp every plump fruit that caught your gaze.

You granted yourself the luxury of becoming distracted admiring the pleasures of the harvest season. You lingered amongst the scent of ripened strawberries and the feeling of dewy warmth, your arms swaying alongside your wicker basket which accommodated very few berries, eating more than you stowed away.

As you gathered the luscious fruits time seemed to slow, savouring the simple moments.

"They’re almost as sweet as you," Luke mused, holding a fruit up to the sunlight before placing it into the basket.

"Any time I believe you couldn't become any more sap you manage to outdo yourself Castellan."

He favoured the way your voice lulled his last name - it was said by many - but your lips managed to make the word seem untouchable. He placed a peck on your cheek before leaning down to twist a berry from a bush, before you too began to discover them hidden behind the copious greenery and flourishing flowers.

Once your container brimmed with red you dispersed from the fields with a smile, taking a detour to your cabin to pick up a larger hamper - filled with sweet delights - and made your way towards a secluded meadow dappled in indirect sunlight.

The perfect sanctuary for a picnic.

You stepped your feet onto the lush grass and escorted Luke towards the lake and laid your chequered blanket beneath the shade of an oak tree, the branches forming a natural shade.

You stretched yourself on the spread, enveloping yourself into the soft murmur of nature and letting tranquillity tug you into a tender embrace.

"Two days." Luke mumbled, noting you of the impending summer break.

"Mm, don't remind me" You said, reaching your fingers to rest in his curls and pull him closer to plant a sweet his on his lips. You left his warmth for a few moments before immediately being tugged back in. "Got something on your mind?" You asked.

"A few things…"

His fingers trailed along your back as if it were a path, your spine a road for his hands which led him to the crease of your knee. He lifted your leg over his own, inviting you to a seat - which you comfortably took - resting your weight against him. His hands slithered to rest in the dip of your curves, taking advantage of his position to brush warm kisses against your jaw and open shoulders. You moved a little to get an "adequate chair", but your actions were evident of what you were attempting, the kisses becoming unsteady and shaky. Your heart began to race in contrast to your slowing thoughts, being consumed in the intensity of your blended emotions.

Then they stopped all together, his head turned from you to find the startled gaze of your close friends – Clarisse and Chris – supposedly on their own adventure.

"Fuck" you mumbled, awkwardly waving to them after tumbling from your boyfriend's lap.

"Why are you waving?" Luke asked

"Maybe they'll go away."

"Piss off Rodriguez!" he yelled across the hill, his sibling swiftly putting his thumbs up before dragging Clarisse away who raised an eyebrow at your commotion.

"Why were they this far away from camp?" you questioned.

"Probably looking for a place to shag." He said bluntly.

After the encounter, you remained "civil" attempting to not scar any more of your companions. You spoke about your plans for when the summer residents would flood back to the camp and the duties you would start. Though, to be bold, Luke couldn't be more uninterested in the stress of a few days, so he pulled his shirt over his head, causing your lips to close and form a smile.

"A swim, while we still can?" He asked, allowing his fingers to snake to your shoulder to slip the strap from your dress. When the support fell, his eyes shamelessly glanced at the bikini which adorned your top, your chest pooling out of the small fabric.

Despite not being the first time he saw you undressed, a flush spread across his cheeks, a similar to the shade of the berries that you picked earlier.

"Swimming's still on, right?" You questioned trying to remain nonchalant, your hand lifting his chin, so his eyes met yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he reconfirmed, his words breathy and diverted.

You slid off your dress and stood, reaching out for his hand to drag him towards the cool tide, your feet stinging from the warmth of the sand which met the shore. Confidence began to seep into your posture as Luke seemed more flustered than he was letting on.

His mind was still preoccupied, so you kicked water at him, creating a war against the sea and the bodies that stood amongst it. You both lingered in the tide and hit one another with gushes of cool until you were fully submerged, gasping for air as your heads rose from the depth of the water.

You turned toward Luke and accepted his outstretched hand which curled around your waist and wrapped under your leg to fold your thighs around his torso. Your chin fell against his shoulder, your arms relaxed around his neck, simply being close to one another.

"Only if we weren't in public…" He muttered, swaying you a little in the water. You weren't in the direct vision of the camp, but this spot was common for wandering satyr's - and Clarisse and Chris - so you kept somewhat disciplined.

"Oh, do tell." You craved as he nipped at the skin below your ear, your legs tightening against him as he whispered sweet - dirty - nothings to you. The familiar all-consuming tension from earlier returned as easily as it left.

He slipped a finger under your jaw to force your eyes to his and you didn't waste time in pressing your lips together. It started gentle - just a press - , but Luke reassured you of how soft his heart truly was for you.

You revelled in the knowledge that only you got to see him like this, so relaxed and pure. Heat took hold and became contagious to Luke, the passion and intensity the two of you shared having no place for the public eye. It’s kept stowed away in the innocent gestures of light, playful touches or holding hands, now it’s revealed itself for what it is.

Inescapable.

No matter how many times the two of you kissed, each time felt different. Each kiss filled with depths of your emotions, that only spilled over when you couldn’t physically contain the heat any longer. He indulged once more before placing a quick kiss to your cheek, dismissing your prying hands and throwing you into the surf and swimming away, leaving you chasing after him.

You stayed in the ocean - quick pecks and swims - until you both grew exhausted and took rest on your blanket, leaving your bodies uncovered for the sun to kiss.

You lay tired and gazed up at the endless sky and let Luke busy himself amongst the flora, slipping many small flowers he had collected into the curvatures of your hair, sliding them into your braids.

And in moments like these you could appreciate what the fates had woven into your future - despite their dreadful manners - beauty could be found amongst the threads and fabrics, the boy beside you covering your life's canvas with an outbreak of stain age.

——————————

If you want to be added to a tag list for Luke fics just comment (requests are open as always)

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Master list

#luke castellan imagines #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo x you #pjo x reader #percy jackson series #riawrites

[loviatarsluv]

An Acquired Taste

“You play a twisted little game,

but I know in a way,

you need to complicate

believe that though we never eat,

we still know how to feed,

we still know how to bleed”

Astarion x AFAB female rogue tav (third person, no super descriptive features aside from hair color and body)

takes place earlier into act 1, long before the grove party (I have plans for that)

rating: VERY mature (smut incoming lets go besties!!!!!!)

CW: threats of bodily harm (eheh), lots of sexual tension, choking, fingering, oral, some light knifeplay

a/n: I’m gonna be 100% honest w u I have not written in forever so I’m admittedly very rusty, but I have not seen enough enemies to lovers with astarion and I just needed it so thus this was born ^.^

in summary: astarion and tav butt heads constantly and get into a blow up fight where they both say shit they shouldn’t, tav is overwhelmed by everything and he is not helping, so she goes to blow off some steam once they get back to camp and he, of course, petty as he is, cannot let her have a single moment of peace and follows her. she threatens to slit his throat and he gets horny. as one does 🤷‍♀️ (just like me fr)

word count: 7.6k (i'm so sorry i was possessed writing this apparently)

(I have no idea where I got this gif from if someone knows tell me and I’ll tag the op!!)

The trek back to camp is mostly silent, save for the odd comment about the weather or spew of stream of consciousness by Karlach, which provided at least a tiny bit of comic relief.

The air was thick and suffocating between the party’s leader and the vampire who just loved to piss her off - it almost always was slightly tense, but today in particular was much different than what was usual for them.

As soon as they reach the camp, the group splits, all scattering across the site to their own chosen sections of it, Astarion nonchalantly strolling off to his own tent, which just so happened to be the closest one to hers. She audibly growls in frustration, earning a few concerned stares from her companions. She can’t even find peace in her own tent.

Before any of her companions can stop her or inevitably approach her with questions about what happened between her and Astarion or unsolicited and, quite frankly, unnecessary advice, she slips off to the place that had been the one piece of solace she had been able to find as of late. The clearing in the forest near the water's edge that was just outside of camp.

The usually ataractic smell of petrichor mixed with the misty air near the running stream fill her nose as she trudges through the muddy soil, her leather and metal plated boots feeling ten stones heavier than usual. She sets her sights on a fallen tree near the water, sinking down into the dirt before it, releasing a long and deep breath that she didn’t realize she’d been holding for what felt like days.

She slowly strips off the outer layers of her lightly plated armor piece by piece, goosebumps prickling her skin with each new bit of skin exposed to the crisp evening air. She discovers a few new bruises and scrapes that hadn’t been there previously when removing certain parts of her gear had become painful, her skin tender and sore beneath it. Her entire body ached, and she was utterly sapped.

The previous few days had been more challenging than anything she’d experienced in recent history - their predicament unfolding before them all in increasingly bleak shades of stormy gray and blood red with each new bit of information they receive regarding the mystery surrounding the parasites that writhed within their skulls. She’d be lying if she said she still held the same amount of optimism toward the prospect of a cure as she had in the earlier days of their expedition. No, that was long gone.

In fact, the only emotion she seemed to feel lately was anger. Rage.

She knew that the world was going to shit prior to being abducted by the mind flayers, but she had never seen for herself how truly doomed it was the way she had since then. It was sobering, to say the least.

She never considered herself to be particularly altruistic or even virtuous by any means, having only been able to survive by picking pockets and slitting throats that stood in the way since her early teen years. She wasn’t proud of it all, and her mind was not unburdened with the guilt that came with some of it, but it was necessary at the time. It continued to be necessary, even more so now.

An image of home flashes through her mind - Baldur’s Gate. The bustling streets, the busy taverns, the upper city where she procured the majority of her coin. She chuckles to herself as she thinks of all of the nobles whose pockets she’d made lighter who were none the wiser  - hells, most of them probably never noticed as gold was never in short supply for them the way it was for the rest of the population. They were easy targets only due to their noses being so high in the air that they didn’t notice those beneath them, scrounging the streets for the crumbs they crushed beneath their perfectly polished boots.

All she had to do was bat her eyelashes, whisper the same sweet nothings that worked on every single one of them, and expertly slip her hand into their pockets while they were enchanted by her every move. It was easier than easy, it was effortless.

She almost misses it - things were simpler, then. It had all become routine after so many years of it. Of course, there was still the threat of death looming over her at every turn but at least she could put up a fight against the daggers and swords that were held to her throat - there was no fighting this. She couldn’t threaten the tadpole with knives or swords or warfare, and she certainly couldn’t fight off ceremorphosis by sheer willpower. Sure, she could cut through every goblin, drow, or cultist that dared cross her path if they didn’t offer a cure or information for a cure, but none of that mattered as the creature inside her was nothing more than a ticking time bomb. Every second that passes could be her last without tentacles and an insatiable appetite for brains, and she’d be rendered nothing more than a soulless monster, doomed to follow every command given to it by an even bigger monstrosity.

Her hope and faith in finding a solution deteriorated more and more as the days passed with no answers, no leads, the prospect of making it out on the other side of this predicament seeming ever more distant. 

She groans loudly to herself, tossing her head into her hands as she brings her knees closer to her chest, wishing she could shrink and disappear. Wishing the mud below her would form a sinkhole and just swallow her, that way it didn’t matter anymore, nothing would.

“Fuck,” She whispers through gritted teeth as she feels tears starting to well up in her eyes, much to her physical and internal protest.

In spite of her throbbing muscles and aching bones, she pushes herself up from the ground, refusing to resort to wallowing in self pity and mourning her once simple life.

But her chest feels as though it were caught in a vice, clamping down on her ribs and lungs and it felt as if she were fighting for every breath. Her fists were clenched so tightly and her nails dug into her palms so deeply that they were on the verge of drawing blood. She felt the need to scream, to cry, to break something - even though none of it would alleviate the weight that rested on her shoulders so heavily. Nothing that was within her reach could.

She felt like everything had come crashing down on her all at once and she was helpless to fight the barrage of what ifs and the potential outcomes of them flooded her mind.

Then, to top it all, her earlier argument with Astarion resurfaces in her mind.

“Apologies for not being as keen to remove the thing that has given me what I’ve been deprived of for two centuries. I’m only saying that we should—“

“So you’d trade feasting on rats in a dirty cell for feasting on brains at the command of some start-up god? You must really be desperate.”

His crimson eyes that were typically bright and playful were now dark and malignant, his jaw clenched and fangs bared. He looked as though he were about to lunge at her, before Wyll grabs him and pulls him back.

She regretted it the moment it left her lips, but she was too angry and too prideful to take it back. But he was seriously irking her - he provoked it out of her, she could hardly blame herself or feel sorry.

“What about you? Roaming the streets, scrounging through the garbage and the dirt for table scraps, stealing from nobles - you’re no better than the rats I fed on, the only difference is that the ones I fed on were more tolerable.”

It was then her turn to get pulled away, as within an instant her dagger was unsheathed and pointed in his direction. She couldn’t tell who it was that grabbed her - perhaps Gale, she thought, who was much stronger than he looked as he subdued her fairly quickly, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her backwards.

It took a lot of talking both of them down to diffuse the situation enough to safely make it back to camp in one piece, both of them too stubborn and prideful to let the matter rest until they just couldn’t stand to be near each other anymore.

His voice echoes in her head, reminding her of every person she’d ever reached out to for help in her life, degrading her to nothing more than a street rat begging for scraps. Her temper rises as she replays his words - “you’re no better than the rats I fed on” - over and over, finally tipping her over the edge. 

She retrieves her rapier from the heap she’d discarded her armor and clothes in, rushes toward a large oak tree, swinging it into the trunk over and over until there’s large slashes in the trunk, the bark flying in shards and bits.

She steps back, breath ragged and heavy, eyes burning with tears that she refused to shed, especially over him and his damned opinion.

She's too enthralled in her own outburst to notice the footsteps approaching in the forest behind her.

“And what exactly did that tree do to deserve your wrath?” Astarion taunts, slowly stalking up behind her.

She doesn’t turn to face him, nor does she acknowledge him at all, tossing her weapon to the ground and walking back toward the stream.

“Tsk, I’m getting the silent treatment now? No scathing insults or cruel comments regarding my past?” He continues to prod, following a few steps behind her.

“Fuck. Off.” She growls through gritted teeth.

He chuckles, the sound bitter and disingenuous, goading.

“Oh, darling. You couldn’t possibly think that we wouldn’t have to kiss and make up after our little spat earlier. We’re stuck with each other in this sordid endeavor, after all.”

Her knuckles have gone white with the force of her clutching onto the fabric of her undershirt that she’d thankfully left on, on the off chance one of her companions came to check on her. Much to her dismay, of course it was the one companion she wished she had never laid eyes on to begin with.

“I’d rather kiss a leech, darling,” she spits, her tone coated in vitriol. “I have nothing more to say to you, unless you’d like me to return the favor of holding a dagger to your throat.”

When they’d met outside the nautiloid crash, and the elf held her at knifepoint demanding information, assuming she was a thrall or working with the mind flayers, she thought perhaps they would get along. She immediately recognized him as a kindred spirit as she knew that she would’ve done the same in his shoes, hells, she was even attracted to him. 

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Well, not about the attraction. That, unfortunately, did not dissipate.

If anything, it only made her hate him more.

He almost cackles, stalking in ever closer, closing the gap between them step by step. She resists the urge to step backwards to increase the distance between them once again, and stays planted in place out of spite, digging her heels into the dirt for extra support. 

“I think there’s a lot that we both want to say and do to each other - the question is who’ll be the first to act.” His voice is equal parts threatening and sultry - something only he did so well.

He could make you loathe him and lust him in one fell swoop with ease. It was one of his biggest strengths, and a large reason why she hadn’t told him to piss off and find another group to leech off of. He was useful in and out of battle, much to her dismay. 

“The only thing I want to do with you at this very moment is throw your pasty ass in the river and hope that you’ve forgotten how to swim.” She spat.

He continues to stalk closer, their bodies now less than a foot apart.

“You’re stubborn. I like that about you. You don’t accept defeat easily, even when it’s knocking at your door. It’s quite admirable, really,” he pauses to lean forward, lowering his face so they’re eye to eye.

“Admit it, dear, you’ve met your match with me.” He grins a devilish grin that she wants to slap off of his pretty mouth. If he were any closer, she might have.

“This isn’t a competition. I want to be rid of this damned thing and you want to step in the way of my and everyone else’s survival at every turn just for your own selfish sake!” She seethes, her voice raising and echoing through the woods.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t act as though you give the slightest bit of a damn about anyone’s survival but your own, altruism isn’t a good look on you, pet. You and I are cut from the same cloth, whether you want to admit that to yourself or not.”

Her once empty fist was now grasping the handle of her dagger that she had sheathed and strapped to her thigh, as she always did, a habit that came in handy more times than she’d like for it to.

“I am nothing like you.” Is all she manages to hiss before he finally closes the gap between them, his face merely inches from hers, basically towering over her - their stark height difference being something only he had noticed and fully planned on using to his advantage.

He feels the heat radiating off of her, and he tells himself that it’s due to more than just anger to stroke his own ego. He knew that she was attracted to him, he’d caught her eyes lingering on him when she thought he wouldn’t notice - when he’d change into his evening clothes just outside his tent, when he would traipse off into the woods to hunt at night, and in general throughout their days traveling he would catch her eyes on him, watching him. It made it all the more exciting for him, knowing that even though she despised him, she’d let him have his way with her if the opportunity arose. He was just biding his time for the right moment and preparing all the perfect words that he knew would reduce her to putty in his hands.

“Keep telling yourself that, if it’ll help you sleep peacefully at night.” He whispers, his eyes dark and hungry - she couldn’t decipher whether it was for her or her blood in one way or another.

“How can I sleep peacefully knowing there’s a bloodsucker who hates me in the next tent over from me?” She half jokes, not letting this closeness falter her composure, despite the way her heart was racing a million a minute.

He flashes that damned smirk that he does when he’s up to something, one of his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip as he does, glinting in the golden glow of the sunset. He almost looked human, in this light. His usually pallid skin is nearly lively and his crimson eyes almost appear to be a shade of dark brown instead. Although, she thinks that his eyes were probably blue, before. Not that it mattered, not that she cared.

“What makes you think that I hate you, darling?” His face flashes a feign innocent expression, in spite of his eyes still holding that same intense darkness that bordered between disdain and desire.

“I certainly don’t think that you like me, by any means. And don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.”

His smirk widens into a sadistic grin, both fangs now on display.

“On the contrary, sweetness. I think we need to stop lying to each other if we’re going to continue this little adventure of ours together,” his voice is low and breathy, rumbling in his chest almost like a growl. He brings a hand up to trace the side of her jaw gently, and she flinches away.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” He continues, his once gentle caress turning into a rough and forceful grab as he forces her to look at him, his blood red eyes boring into hers.

“I only watch you because I don’t trust you. I thought that’d be pretty clear.” It was a lie. She knew it was a lie, but it was only a half lie, technically. She didn’t trust him, she hadn’t since the beginning.

He lets out another cruel laugh, and she knows that he caught on.

“Hmm. You know, I’d assume you would be a better liar - how disappointing for you, but delicious for me.”

This was the last straw for her as she promptly unsheathes the dagger that her finger had been itching over since he made his unwelcome appearance into her life, pressing it to his throat, slowly pushing him backwards until his back hits the nearest tree.

His demeanor doesn’t falter for an instant, his face still twisted into that same demented sneer - the bastard was enjoying this.

The air between them was so thick it would have had to be cut with a great sword as their eye contact never breaks, neither of them intending to surrender.

“Give me one reason not to slit that pretty throat of yours.” She snarls behind gritted teeth.

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple grazing against the cool metal of her blade. He stares down at her and can’t help but admire her - eyes wild, long raven black hair uncharacteristically disheveled with some strands sticking to her forehead due to leftover dried sweat and grime, her pressed against him hard with only a flimsy shirt shielding her body from him. He doesn’t even try to hide it, letting his tongue slip out to wet his bottom lip, an undeniably lustful look in his eyes.

It takes her a moment to notice when she finally comes back to her senses after her adrenaline settles, a scowl painting across her face as the realization hits.

“You’re disgusting.” She hisses, pulling away from him, lowering her blade.

Despite her words, the way he was looking at her sparked something in her - something she had done so well to disregard and push down up to this point, but her resolve was weakening under his gaze.

He doesn’t respond, eyes never leaving her as they trail up and down her body, constantly returning back to her bare legs and thighs. And from the angle she stood, with the sunset behind her, her light colored linen shirt was nearly opaque and he could see the outline of her body. He feasted his eyes on her delicate curves, the way her hips jutted out and her waist dipped in above them, her toned arms flexing, muscles clenching. She was unquestionably sexy, and his craving for her had doubled if not tripled at the sight of her in this way, even after she pressed her dagger to his neck. Hells, even then.

She starts to back up as his gaze only intensifies - hungry eyes trailing her body felt like hot coals being dragged across her skin.

Before she can make it more than a couple inches away, his hands are grasping her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh to a bruising point, pulling her back to him and flipping them so that her back is flush against the tree where his had been, effectively switching the roles and asserting his dominance over her, as he’d been dying to do for what felt like centuries.

His icy hand comes up to her throat, closing his fist around it firmly but not enough to entirely restrict her breathing and pinning her against the wood, his face now close enough to feel her hot breath against his cheeks.

The rough bark digs into her scalp and back, his fingers press into the spot just below her jaw near her pulse point. He feels her pulse thrumming rapidly against his fingertips, he can hear her heartbeat racing in her chest.

“You wound me, pet… I almost believed that one.” He purrs, his cold breath and the tone of his voice sending a chill down her spine, and an unwelcome heat through her, pooling low in her core.

With one hand still on her throat, his other hand rests on her waist before languidly roaming the parts of her body that weren’t covered by his own pressed against it.

She feels helpless under his touch, all of her previously built up walls and her icy facade start to melt beneath him, but not without her brain chiming in and reminding her who he is and how bad of an idea this was.

“Let me go.” She whispers plainly, unable to muster enough nerve to yell or scream or fight back, settling for no emotion at all.

He smirks at her, his hand advancing upwards, his fingers laving over the side of her breast, causing her nipples to harden, peaking against the soft linen fabric of her shirt.

“Is that what you really want, darling? Your body tells a different story,” he hums, his finger now grazing her nipple agonizingly gently, disrupting any thought or intention of fighting him off.

She's unable to find a word that could suffice in telling him to stop, but also dear gods please keep going. Her body was taking the reins, and she blames it on having not had any sort of intimacy since long before the nautiloid. Only to avoid the prospect that she was truly enjoying this.

Her silence doesn’t suffice, though.

He tightens his grip on her throat, pressing his index finger and thumb on either side of her jaw to direct her face so their eyes meet.

“I need you to tell me what you want, pet. I can’t do anything for you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

She bites down on her bottom lip almost hard enough to bite through, a slight metallic taste hitting her tongue. Her body was trembling with the effort it took to contain herself, to not give in to him but it was proving to be an insurmountable task. The logical side of her brain wants to say no just so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of her begging for him like he wants, but she can’t. The part of her brain that is apparently driven by the spot between her legs and the rest of her body is screaming over any logic and telling her everything she doesn’t want to hear.

“Harder.” She barely manages to choke out, her voice strained against the pressure of his hand on her throat.

He freezes, his body stilling and tensing up.

“What was that, darling? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He grits his teeth, his voice low and his mouth centimeters from her ear.

“Harder.” She says louder, placing her hand over his and pressing down.

Gods, he could’ve come undone right then and there.

Without another word, their lips collided in a frenzied and feral kiss, one that was inevitable, they both learned, judging by how effortless the kiss was - their lips melding and their tongues in sync as if they’d done it a million times before. Her fingers ran through his ivory curls, tugging at the roots and eliciting a groan from him that sent a chill up her spine.

He obliged her request, slightly closing his fist tighter around her neck, which chokes a moan out of her that he quickly swallows in another kiss. His free hand greedily continues to roam and grab at anything he can - her thighs, her ass, her breasts, her hips. He can't get enough of her, he swears even being inside her wouldn't satiate his desire for her. He wants to mark her, he wants to claim her, he wants her to be his, even if it was only for this purpose alone.

She hooks her leg around his, pulling him flush against her and feeling his hardened cock straining against his breeches as it presses to her lower stomach.

She almost gasps, disappointed but secretly pleased to discover that he was big, from what she could tell through his clothes at least.

She had hoped she could at least say he was small or that the sex sucked after it was all said and done, but she had an inkling that this was just yet another thing she would have to begrudgingly give him his due credit for.

He notices her reaction to the bulge in his pants, and smirks as he presses a wet kiss to her jaw, then rocks his hips forward to press himself against her even harder.

"This is your doing, you know," He breathes, a smirk evident in his voice.

Annoyed by his arrogant words and gesture, she digs her nails into his shoulder, a noise that's somewhere between a moan and a frustrated growl escaping her as he continues to suck on her neck, grazing the skin with his fangs.

“I’m starting to think you like having your life threatened a little too much.” She breathes.

He chuckles, lips still hovering over hers. “Only by you, darling.”

He palms at her ass cheek roughly, surely leaving a slew of intentional bruises so that she has a reminder the next morning, then smacking it - his frigid touch adding to the sting of the rough contact.

She yelps slightly, biting her lip in an attempt to stifle any noises she may make. He shakes his head, releasing her neck and bringing his hand up to trace her lips with his fingertips.

"No, no, sweetness, I want to hear that pretty voice of yours. For now, at least." He has a look as if he was planning something that instantly set her on edge - she never knew what to expect from him, especially not in this sort of circumstance.

"You're such an ass," She grunts indignantly, before he dips a finger in between her parted lips.

Almost as if on pure instinct, she sucks on his digit, swirling her tongue and laving it in her spit. His breath hitches as he stifles a pleased groan. She smirks pridefully, his finger still in her mouth.

"And yet, here we are, darling."

In rebuttal, she bites down on his finger just enough to hurt him, which causes him to hiss in pain. He shoots her a warning glance, then relaxes when he sees the amusement on her face.

“So feisty.”

He rubs her bottom lip with a second finger, a silent plea to add another into her mouth, which she promptly obliges.

She gives the second finger the same treatment as the first, her mind running wild with images of his cock in place of his fingers, how he might taste, the way it already weeps with arousal for her - it felt so wrong, yet she couldn't seem to get enough.

He pulls his fingers out of her mouth with a pop, his crimson eyes holding hers in an intense stare as he brings his still dry hand down to hook her underwear to the side, the cool breeze hitting her drenched cunt and making her suck in a breath. He makes a show of bringing the two fingers that had just been in her mouth down to rub her soaking folds, making sure that she was watching his every move.

"Fuck, you're already so wet for me." He moans, his voice low and gravelly as he slowly begins to spread her apart, the filthy sounds of her arousal like a song to his ears.

A loud moan rips through her as she throws her head back, the slightest touch embarrassingly already almost too much. Maybe it was the anticipation, maybe it was because it'd been so long since she'd been touched like this - or maybe it was just another testament to how badly she needed him. His touch.

"Rather sensitive, aren't we, pet?" He teases, dipping his head down to place a kiss to the part of her chest that was exposed by the low neckline of her shirt.

"Shut. Up." She growls, her hand gripping the nape of his neck and pulling him closer. The rumbling of his laughter echoes in her chest as his mouth stays pressed against it.

He presses wet kisses further and further down as he slowly moves his face lower, sinking to his knees in front of her.

She can't contain the gasp that escapes her as she peers down at him - his typically pristine and well groomed silvery white curls were a disaster as a result of her hands ravaging them, his eyes were dark and lidded, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Not to mention, the satisfaction that came from him being on his knees below her, knowing what he intended to do - gods below, it was almost too much to bear.

He raises her shirt higher, holding it up between her breasts and getting just a small peek of the underside of them - the temptation to rip the wretched thing off of her and completely bare her to him crossing his mind. He decides against it, unsure if she'd want to be fully exposed in case someone decided to come check on her.

He, personally, wouldn't mind any of the others finding them this way - that way they would know that he was staking his claim on her. He was well aware that he was far from the only one in the camp that had dreamt of touching her, and he planned on being the only one who gets to.

He straightens himself up so he can trail another line of wet kisses down her abdomen, stopping just above the waistband of her underwear. His eyes flick back up to hers, finding that she had been watching his every move - satisfied with how quickly she catches on to his desires, as if it were natural to her.

He hooks two fingers beneath the fabric on each of her hips, waiting for her to protest. She doesn't, instead she reaches her hand down and attempts to pull them down herself. He grabs her wrist, stopping her.

"Ah ah, allow me." He commands, his voice equal parts soothing and threatening. She drops her hand back to her side. "Good girl."

He rips the fabric down her legs, letting it pool at her ankles before he hooks an arm under her thigh and lifts it so that she steps out of them. He pushes them aside, keeping her leg lifted as he pushes her night shirt out of the way once again, revealing her drenched and throbbing cunt to him, at long last.

He practically salivates at the sight, his eyes burning trails all around it as he drinks in every inch of her newly exposed flesh. This causes her to blush for the first time during this encounter, suddenly feeling self conscious about her most intimate area. She feels the urge to cover herself, her leg instinctively moving to clench against the other. He stops her quickly, pressing her leg up even higher, stretching her already sore thigh muscles.

"Absolutely perfect. To think you’ve been keeping this all to yourself." He coos, his voice now softer, reverent, even. As if he were quietly admiring the finely crafted sculpture of a goddess on display in the foyer of a tabernacle.

With her leg now draped over his shoulder, he continues his attack of wet and hungry kisses up her leg. He toys with the knife strapped to her, running a finger along the hilt of the blade, then biting the leather strap on the innermost part of her leg, his lips brushing against the skin and causing goosebumps to prickle up.

He slowly continues trailing up to the apex of her thighs, pausing at the very top of her thigh and nipping at the plush skin.

Her arousal and frustration had started to truly boil within her, him taking his damn sweet time was beginning to piss her off all over again and she knew he was doing it deliberately. He was trying all that he could to get her to beg.

"Astarion, if you don't eat me out right now, I'm going to kill you."

She wouldn't beg, no. Threatening, though? Easy.

"Patience, darling. Good things come to those who wait."

She scoffs. "I'm starting to think you're stalling. Scared that you won't be able to live up to your reputation?" She taunts in an attempt to anger him enough to finally oblige her.

His eyes narrow, his once smug face falling into a scowl.

He quickly unsheathes the knife on her thigh, grabbing it by the blade. Her eyes widened.

"What the hells are you doing?" Her voice held a bit of unease as she watched him gently tap the tip of the blade, as if he were testing the sharpness.

He grins wickedly, his eyes flicking from the dagger back up to hers. "I'm going to shut you up. Open," he commands, bringing the hilt of the dagger up to her lips.

She shoots him an uncertain look, confused. He sighs, frustrated, then presses the hilt further until her lips parted, and she took it between her teeth.

The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the golden light shifting to a cool blue glow, the reflection of the moon glinting off of the recently sharpened and polished blade. She hadn’t realized just how sharp Lae’zel made it, and having it so close to her face this way truthfully made her nervous.

A twisted part of her enjoyed it for that fact.

He looks up at her, the sight of the hilt of the dagger that she'd threatened him with only minutes prior, now held between her teeth both ironic and unequivocally erotic.

"Much better. Shall we try this again?"

Satisfied with the outcome of his bright idea and the muffled groan of frustration from the only one who’d been plaguing his thoughts when he was alone in his tent, he returns to his prior ministrations, starting his trail of kisses right back where he'd begun them just at the side of her knee.

He repeats the process identically to how he'd done it previously, except this time he bites the top of her thigh slightly harder, eliciting a whimper from her, nearly causing the knife to slip out of her mouth.

"Careful, pet." He warns, a slight smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

With his face still right at the crest of her thigh, cool breath fanning across her burning hot flesh, he brings his even colder fingers back up to tease her folds. She jolts at the sensation, involuntarily crawling upward onto the tree, now on tiptoe with her leg that's still on the ground. He tightens his arm around her thigh, pulling it down on to his shoulder slightly as if to warn her to stay still. She obliges, flattening her foot back down and relaxing her posture as best as she can manage, the thought of making this take even longer agonizing.

His deft fingers work her slowly, touching everywhere but where she needed him most. The sounds of her slick arousal seemed much louder now that they’d both gone mostly quiet apart from their heavy breathing, and she feels that damned blush creep back up to her cheeks once again. 

She involuntarily yelps when his fingers tease her entrance, her walls instinctively clenching around nothing. She disobeys him by wriggling slightly, then realizes and quickly tries to cease her movements. He lets his thumb rest against her swollen and throbbing clit, refusing to move even an inch until she settles down.

“Look at you,” he coos. “So eager for me. I almost want to take that dagger out of your mouth and hear that sweet voice moan for me again.”

She bites down even harder into the hilt of the dagger to stifle the moan that threatens to escape her throat, certainly leaving teeth marks that she’ll have to hide in case anyone needs to borrow it later.

He chuckles, his eyes still trained on her face as he pushes ever so slightly against her entrance, his thumb pressing harder into the over-sensitive bud - savoring her every reaction to him. The way her brows knitted up, the way her glossy eyes widened, her hands clutching the fabric of her shirt and holding it close to her chest, the way the dagger shifted slightly in her mouth as her jaw clenched around it. She was a feast for his eyes and he intended to savor every bite. 

Finally, he decides to show her mercy and push his fingers further in, careful to move slowly and give her time to adjust. Her eyes blow wide and her head falls back against the tree, giving him a full view of her neck that makes his mouth water. 

Next time, he thinks to himself.

His fingers are just barely not too thick for her - the stretching only slightly uncomfortable and otherwise euphoric. He pumps in and out at a lazy pace at first, quickening over time as he feels her fully adjust after a while. She’s perfectly tight, her velvet walls clenching his fingers with every plunge into her depths. He can barely think straight, all rational thought having left him ages ago. All that he can think now is how badly he wishes it were his cock in her rather than his fingers - but as he’d told her, good things come to those who wait. 

She feels herself creeping ever closer to her peak as his movements become more and more rhythmic and deliberate, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as his fingers piston in and out, hitting all of the right spots and driving her wild. Her body is buzzing, her legs trembling. She wants to resist how incredible this all feels, but gods, does it feel incredible. 

Everything that comes after this is a problem for later, right now, all she wants is to—

“Aah!” She yelps as he curls his fingers, the dagger slipping from her mouth and thankfully dropping to the ground beside them. 

He grins, continuing his ministrations. “Are you gonna come, pet?” 

She takes her bottom lip in between her teeth, scared to say yes in fear that he may stop and deprive her of her release just to spite her.

“Answer me.” He commands, his voice coming out as a low growl. 

She reluctantly nods.

“Use your words. Answer me.”

“Y-yes. Gods, yes. Just… don’t stop.” She whines, trying her damnedest for it not to come out as a beg, but rather a command. It was mildly successful.

To her surprise, he speeds up the pace, pumping in and out of her hard and fast - the way she so desperately craved it. She feels herself right at the edge, her orgasm impending - he can tell, as she writhes and whimpers over him. Just as he can tell she’s about to hit the peak, he stops. 

She keens at the sudden loss of friction and movement, her walls clenching down around his fingers even harder, her cunt throbbing and dripping onto his hand. 

“Why…” Is all she manages to say, her breathing ragged and her chest heaving.

“I want you to come on my mouth.” 

That alone could have sent her over the edge. 

She nods fervently, her hips bucking forward toward his face. 

He considers punishing her for being too hasty and too eager, but he couldn’t care less any more to keep up the game - he needs to taste her. He needs to devour her. 

He moves his thumb, making way for his tongue to replace it. He expertly strokes his tongue across her folds, her essence sweet and tangy on his taste buds. He swipes across her clit, causing her to jerk into his mouth, a string of incoherent curses leaving her lips. 

She drops the fabric of her shirt and threads her fingers through his hair once again, gripping it almost painfully. He groans against her, the vibrations of his voice against her causing her to see stars. 

He lifts her shirt out of his way once again, mouth never breaking from her, and growls in frustration at the piece of fabric that kept dropping into his face. Taking his growl as a silent command, she rips the fabric over her head and tosses it aside, now completely naked and bare to him as well as the cool night air.

His eyes widened at the sight of her, finally getting a full view of her breasts and the rest of her that was previously unrevealed to him. He breaks away from her cunt for a moment, both hands moving to palm her full breasts. 

“You are exquisite.” 

She’d almost prefer if he’d insult her, be cruel to her, say the worst things he can think of - that way she wouldn’t have to grapple with these new feelings that are bubbling up to the surface at how generous of a lover he’s proven to be, when only minutes prior she was sure that they shared a mutual hatred for each other. Maybe he was just putting on a show for her, like he always did. 

Yes. He’s putting on a show. He has to be, she thinks. 

She hisses through her teeth when he finally brings his mouth and hand back to her mound, wasting no time in resuming his prior crusade to make her come, pumping his fingers at a punishing pace, his tongue circling her clit in tandem. He keeps his free hand on her breast, pinching her nipple hard, causing her to roll her hips into his face. 

“That’s it, love. Take what you need.” 

For fucks sake, he’s going to be the death of me. 

His words, his mouth, and his dexterous fingers are a wicked combination - every single movement, every single word, every lap at her needy cunt is nearly too much for her to bear as she uses every bit of her remaining strength to keep from crumbling into a heap in the dirt. 

As requested by him, she continues to rock her hips forward, grinding down onto his fingers and mouth, his fingers hitting all the right places to drive her over the edge. She grips at his shoulder, nails digging into the fabric of his ruffled evening shirt, chest heaving as she creeps ever closer once again, and silently prays he has mercy on her this time. 

“Astarion, I’m—“

“I know, love. Come for me,” he says, muffled with his mouth still tongue deep in her. 

As if on command, she shatters, tumbling over the edge into free fall towards the hardest orgasm she’s had in months, perhaps even years. 

Her body shakes and writhes as she gushes on his tongue, but he doesn’t slow his movements, still pumping into her as she rides out her orgasm, pangs of unbridled pleasure crashing over her like tidal waves.

Her legs quiver, the leg that she was using to stand begins to buckle at the knee as all strength she’d had left from the day has finally been sapped from her body. She slowly slides down the tree into his lap, eyes closed and still reeling. 

She manages to weakly tilt her head forward, looking him in the eye for the first time with new eyes - unsure what that meant for her yet. She was half sure that she still hated him. Half. 

He grins at her, his own chest still heaving as he catches his breath, ruby irises lighter than before, a look in his eyes that she doesn’t quite recognize. 

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dying to do that since the day I met you.” He says, popping his fingers into his mouth and licking her slick off. 

She swallows hard at the sight, her still sore and sensitive core starting to flutter again as he licks his fingers clean. 

“I still don’t like you, you know. You’ll have to do more than make me orgasm to change my mind.” She says, her tone unusually calm and amicable toward him despite her words. 

“Oh darling, who said we had to like each other to do that? In fact, I think it makes it all the more thrilling.” He brings his hand up to her cheek, gently caressing it and swiping his thumb across it. 

She puffs air out of her nose, a wry smile on her lips. “Who says we’re going to do that again?”

He grins, bringing his still wet lips and face closer to hers, his breath smelling strongly of a mixture of her essence, wine, and a bitter metallic smell that was undeniably blood - she assumes he hunted not too long before he joined her in the woods. 

“You can hate me all you want, my sweet, but I know that nobody has ever made you feel the way that I do. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re crawling back into my bedroll, begging for another taste.” He taunts, his voice in that same low and sultry tone he did so well, the one that he knew had the power to melt anybody right into his hands. 

She narrows her eyes for a brief moment - then an idea flits into the back of her mind, a mischievous smile following suit. The game was now set, and she was ready to play. 

“We’ll see who begs who first, darling.” 

part two - ♡︎

#this was a wild ride #lmk if u like it hehe #astarion #astarion ancunin #spawn astarion #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #if u squint #enemies to lovers #idk what else to tag this lol #my fics #aat

[just-some-trans-nobody]

December Christmas Monster stories

December 10.) Werewolf neighbor

Ok sorry about this one, it might technically be December 11 by the time I post it but it's still the 10th day. This one is actually going to be a two parter as I wrote so damn much for this one, it was actually meant to be far more longer than this but the rest will be for later. Walter is definitely going to have more stories writen about him.

Warnings: bodys pressing together, neck sniffing with no promotion, meantion of divorce, seasonal depression

Minors Don't Interact!!!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sitting on your couch you looked down at the pathetic box of christmas decorations. It was your first time spending Christmas completely alone. No family to come over, all your friends were too far away and spending the holidays with their own families. You didn’t even bother with getting a tree this year, you didn’t see the point of doing one all by yourself. 

Looking at your empty living room, void of any Christmas decorations it only served to make you sadder. “Maybe it couldn’t hurt to get a little tree?” You mumbled to yourself. Perhaps that’s what you needed to help cheer up your seasonal depression even for a little bit.

Throwing on a jacket and some winter boots you headed out to find a store for your impulse christmas tree purchase. You definitely weren’t planning on getting a real tree. It would be too much of a hassle getting it home alone plus you really weren’t looking forward to cleaning up pine sap and needles once it started to die. 

Making your way to the store you noticed a very familiar fuzzy shape walking on the path alone. Slowing your car down to a crawl you rolled down your window getting a much clearer view of your next door neighbor Walter the recently divorced werewolf. He was walking on the snowy sidewalk with a big flannel jacket and black jeans. The sound of your car slowing down caused his ears to perk up on high alert. Without even looking at you he sniffed the air, his tail wagged when he recognized the scent he was smelling. “Well isn’t it (Y/n)!” He said, turning his head to look at you. “Heya Walter, you need a lift? It’s pretty cold to be walking around.” You told him offering a ride, you didn’t mind pushing off shopping a little longer if it meant making sure Walter was out of the snow, nothing else at all totally not because you wanted to spend more time with your recently divorced neighbor, none at all nope. Seeing the smile he flashed you at your offer made your heart skip a beat, you blamed it on seeing his sharp teeth and not because of his smile so bright it could melt frozen butter. 

Not refusing the offer to get out of the snow Walter walked to your passenger door and got in. It was only then did you notice he was wearing booties on his paws. You wouldn’t want to be walking in the snow barefoot either. Though the sight was rather funny to see, a big bad werewolf in booties with a fur trim. 

“So where were you headed? I don’t want to take you away from where you were going too much.” Walter said not bothering to buckle up, he couldn’t buckle up in your car even if he tried. He was a little too big to sit comfortably in the passenger seat but he made it work. “Oh I was just heading to the store to see if I could find any Christmas trees for my place.” You answered honestly. In the corner of your eye you could see something moving after you spoke. Glancing his way you realized it was his tail wagging. “What a coincidence! I'm on my way to get a tree too!” He said smiling, his eyes not leaving you. As if he could pull them away, how could he when you looked so cute bundled up in that jacket. “That makes things easier then.” A chuckle left your lips as you talked causing his tail to wag again. 

Pulling into the store's parking lot you tried to find a spot closer to the front, you didn’t want to walk far in the snow. You were glad the plow trucks already came or else you would have turned around and gone home. “Want to do our shopping together? I find shopping more fun when you have someone with you.” Walter offered looking down at your shorter frame, he was just so damn tall it made you feel so small. “I don’t see why not, it makes leaving easier sense we rode here together.” Your agreement made his tail wag again, you assumed it was because he was glad he didn’t have to shop alone. 

Going in you were about to grab a cart when Walter beat you to it, stepping in front of you. “I got it, you drove me here, buying your things is the least I can do.” He said pulling out a cart, as you began to protest he held up a paw stopping you. “I insist, please.” That managed to get you to quiet down. “Alright fine, I was only going to get the tree though.” That wasn't fully true, you were looking forward to getting a shit ton of junk food and eat your feelings but you didn’t want him spending a bunch of money so you would just have to get them for your next shopping trip. Walking next to Walter you soon learned you should be walking a few steps ahead of him after you consistently got hit on the mid back by his wagging tail. It seemed almost every thing made his tail wag. A good deal on something? Tail wagging. Something he wanted was back in stock? Tail wagging again. A song he liked started playing on the store's radio? You guessed it, tail wagging. It would have been very entertaining if you weren’t in the line of fire of his wagging tail. The thing hit harder than you thought it would. You weren’t even sure he noticed he kept hitting you with it as he happily rambled on about deals going on. Seeing his cart was getting more and more filled, you started to worry a little about how much he was spending that you yourself hadn’t noticed how he kept asking if you liked certain snacks. The ones that got a positive from you went into the cart, ones you didn’t like very much went back on the shelf. Once the cart was filled to the brim with snacks, the two of you made your way away from the food area. Walter was making his way to the outdoor section for a real tree and you made a turn to the Christmas decor to get a fake tree. Noticing you weren’t next to him Walter stopped and looked around for you. Spotting you walking in a different direction he turned the cart and followed you catching up quickly thanks to his larger size. “Trees aren’t over here silly.” He said, chuckling softly. “Oh uh I was just going to get a fake one, I don’t feel like getting a real one this year.” You explained shrugging lightly as you looked up at him. “Really? Why not?” He was confused on why someone wouldn’t want a real tree. “Just doesn’t feel right getting a real tree if it’s just me, no point to it.” The effort didn’t seem worth it to you, why bother if no one was going to help with any part of itWalter’s ears flattened as his shoulders visibly dropped hearing what you had to say about getting a real tree. “Oh… there really isn’t a point for me to get a real tree this year either. Just got one every year. I didn't think about not getting one.” His voice held a sad tone as his eyes lowered to the ground, tail long stopped wagging now was tucked between his legs. 

You felt like an asshole when it hit you. This was his first christmas since his divorce, it was most likely his first christmas alone in years if not his first ever one alone. Mentally cursing yourself you raced to think of something to make this all better. “How about I spend Christmas with you? So then you can still get a real tree?” You blurted out with wide panicked eyes. Hearing that his ears perked up as he looked up at you. It was an immediate change in his demeanor, tail wagging much faster as it had been before he stood up taller. “Really? You would spend Christmas with this old fluff ball?” He asked, stepping closer to you. The closeness really putting it in your mind just how much bigger he was than you were. Gulping nervously you nodded your head, mind still reeling from your own actions. Walter swooped you up and spun you around in one fluid motion squeezing you tight. You had only seen him do this with his family before, not once had he ever with you. Stopping he looked down at you with a big smile on his face as his tail wagged a mile a minute. “Um Walter?” You spoke up after an agonizingly long moment like this. He responded with a soft hum as he leaned his snot in closer. The hot air of his breath grazed against your face sending shivers all over your body. “We’re in the middle of the store, remember?” He had seemed to have forgotten this. Lifting his head he looked around seeing there were people giving the two of you strange looks. “Whoops, got a little excited there.” Walter apologized, setting you back down on the ground. His tail hadn’t slowed down one bit. You feared he might form a tornado with how much his tail stirred up the air around him. “Well come on then, let’s go get that tree!” He said, grabbing your hand with his paw. You couldn’t help but stare at your hand intertwined with his paw. When the two of you had first met he had shaken your hand and at the time you noticed in that brief moment how soft his paw pads were. Holding his paw for much longer you really got a good feel of just how soft they were. It wasn’t just soft, no they were squishy too. You wondered if he would let you play with them some time. As your mind wondered about his soft paws your thoughts slowly grew to wonder how they would feel on other parts of your body. Catching yourself before the thoughts grew more impure as they had already gotten you shook your head trying to shoo them away. 

Walter hadn’t noticed this and you were damn glad of it. He just kept pushing the cart around with one paw as he walked much slower than he had before. You were walking slower too, it was the pace you usually had. It took you a moment longer than you would like to admit when it clicked with you that he was walking slower for your sake. Smiling softly to yourself you looked away wanting to put your focus anywhere else than Walter. Making your way into the out door section you shivered feeling an especially harsh gust of wind hit you causing you to brace yourself from the cold. It stung at your eyes making you close them tight. Expecting more wind to hit, you braced yourself again turning a little but stopped when you felt Walters paw leave your hand and wrap around you not a moment later pulling you into his side. “Look at you shivering like a chihuahua. You don’t got no way to keep you warm. Here stay close to me, I'll keep you warm.” Walter said, leaning against you. It was just so warm you couldn’t find the will to fight him on it and just accepted his embrace. Lucky for you, you were able to hide your smile by burying your face in the side of his coat, plus it kept your already freezing nose out of the snow. Walking to the trees with him Walter quietly hummed along to the song currently playing through the store's speakers. You left the tree finding to him. It seemed he knew what he was doing while you were clueless on the matter. It was obvious when he found the right tree as he excitedly moved from one paw to the other. You tried to stifle a laugh at the sight of a werewolf doing tippy tappys.  As much as you didn’t want to pull away from his warmth you knew he wouldn’t be able to drag the tree through the store while pushing the cart and also holding onto you but when you went to move away from him his grip on you tightened pulling you in closer to him. “We can still check out here right?” He called out to the one employee working gardening, they nodded their head yes. “Oh good we’ll check out here and take everything straight to the car.” Walter said, picking the tree up. “Can you come scan this for us?” He asked, holding the tree up. Walter was making things harder for himself, he should let go, why wasn’t he letting go? Looking down at you he smiled softly as he gave you a gentle squeeze. “Step onto the cart I’ll push you around, that way you can still be nice and warm.” Oh… you hadn’t thought about that, could work. Without a word you stepped up onto the cart holding onto the cart's handle bar for support. The moment you felt Walter press his chest against your back you lost every ability to breathe. You didn’t think this through. Being this close to him like this in this position? You're glad it was cold, you could blame your face being so red. 

Standing there on the cart trapped from all sides, oh boy did it make you feel things you shouldn't.

Next few minutes were a blank for you too deep in your ever growing thoughts as Walter checked out all his groceries and paid for it all. You could hear him hum again as he started walking to your car. The parking lot was quite bumpy causing the cart and you in turn to raddle like crazy. That is until Walter pressed his chest against your back stopping your shaking. His muzzle was right next to your ear. You could feel his hot breath on your neck. It sent a flood of dirty thoughts into your mind, a gasp left your lips before you could stop it. You prayed to any god out there that he didn't hear it. If he had he hadn't said anything. 

What he did notice was how your scent had changed, grown more aroused. You realized something was up when he suddenly pressed his nose to your neck and took a deep breath in. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he inhaled your scent. The moment he caught himself doing that he pulled away in a jerking motion. “I um…” He stammered trying to think of an excuse. “I like your body wash. What is it? Daisys?” Walters heart was practically beating out of his chest, you could feel it against your back. “No uh sweat pea actually. Was on sale.” You answered in a quiet voice trying to possess what just happened. “Ah, sales love them.” He mumbled softly.

The rest of the ride home was completely silent. Neither of you baring to speak after that little incident. Pulling into his driveway you put your car in park and quietly gulped. The two of you sat in silence a few minutes more before Walter finally broke the silence. “Want to come in and decorate the tree with me?” He asked, looking at you through the corner of his eye gauging your reaction. Thinking about it you lightly chewed the bottom of your lip. Oh what the hell, what's the worst thing that could happen? “Sure.” Your answer made his tail wagged as he lit up with a bright smile. What could happen? You weren't sure what but you wanted it.

#monster #monster fucker #monster stories #werewolves #werewolf x nonbinary reader #werewolf x female reader #werewolf x male reader #werewolf x female #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human #werewolf daddy #werewolf dilf #december christmas monster stories #monster x male #monster x male reader #werewolf x male #monster x female #monster x human #monster x reader #monster x y/n #monster x you #werewolf x y/n #werewolf fluff #werewolf fucker #sfw monster #monster fluff

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 12

Hey all, this story will wrap up today, so next week it will go back to just one chapter a day on Tuesdays and Thursdays and when Glitters wraps up, Sundays will go back to one a day as well.

A short chapter for the first of two, because this chapter got too long and needed to be cut down a tad and the next part fits better as a whole.

Eddie and Steve finally kiss and just giving Steve the loving crafting circle he needs.

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Steve got to see where the cast ate their meals, where some of the cast stayed in large tents (for those that had traveled from out of state but couldn’t afford a hotel), he got to meet the people who sold the food to the tourists, and the people who cleaned up every night.

It was marvelous.

“So was the two events they were trying to schedule at the same time, the joust and your trick riding?” Steve asked after they left the cleaners.

Eddie grinned. “Close, the sword fighting and my trick riding. I told them that I would happily run over those bastards, but I didn’t think the horses would appreciate it.”

“I bet that got them to change their tune,” Steve said with a laugh.

“It sure did, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured.

Suddenly they found themselves utterly alone.

“Steve–” Eddie began, but Steve placed his fingers on his lips.

“Just wait,” he said softly. “There’s something I want to give you first.”

Eddie blinked at him. “You bought me a present?” he asked. Well technically he said, “Ym brut me apresemnt?” since Steve still had his fingers over his mouth.

Steve laughed and dug it out of his pocket. “It’s been on a little journey, one that nearly gave me a heart attack,” he murmured, “but Jeff was able to get it back to me in time.”

He handed the small pouch over to Eddie.

Eddie took it gingerly and rubbed it between his fingers as he looked at the small thing that Steve had made for him. But as small as the item itself was the giving of it, was massive.

“I remembered you telling me that your dice bag broke,” Steve mumbled, “and I really wanted to thank you for all your help this weekend. I don’t think I could of done it without you.”

Eddie looked up at Steve with glossy eyes. “It’s perfect, Stevie.”

“I plan on giving a bunch to Katie for her to sell while I make the bigger pieces,” Steve continued, “and Robin said that I should give the first one to you, because it’s special. And you deserve something really special, Eds. Because you’re special to me and I–”

Whatever else Steve was going to say got swallowed up by Eddie kissing him firmly on the lips.

He had just grabbed Steve by the face and locked their lips together.

Steve was stocked into stillness, but that didn’t last long as he pulled Eddie close to him and deepened the kiss.

Eddie let out a happy sigh as they parted for breath. “Wow, baby. You kiss like it might be your last.”

“Eh...” Steve said with a half shrug and a lopsided smile, “when you’ve faced more then one ends of the world, it very well could be.”

Eddie chuckled, pressing their heads together. “You’ve got me there, big boy.”

“Mhmm,” Steve said softly. “And I’ve got you here, too.” His arms tightened around Eddie’s waist, drawing them flush against each other.

Eddie swatted at him. “Sap.”

Steve kissed him again. “If I’m a sap, then you’re my tree.”

“That was corny even for you, honey,” he murmured, swatting at him at playfully.

Steve just laughed.

The end of the Renaissance Fair had come at last. There had been more then a few bumpy moments, but looking out at all the happy faces being lit up by fireworks, Steve was pleased with the results.

And next year was going to be even better, he had plans for helping the kids have quality costumes like Corroded Coffin boys had.

He might still have to do some altering instead of full on sewing all of the costumes, but he was really looking forward to it.

Katie had told him that he had several people offer her crazy money for the pouch he had accidentally dropped, so he promised her a dozen by the end of next week for her next Fair. In different sizes too.

Eddie had been the one to suggest that. Little coin purses, dice bags, and even handbag sized ones. Eddie was even going to help him find the right materials for it, ones that weren’t as expensive as the little dice bag Steve gave him.

Steve was really looking forward to it.

They hadn’t told the kids yet about their change in relationship. Not yet. They wanted to hold onto it for themselves a little longer.

Though, judging from the look that Will and Mike had sent him, Steve was pretty sure most of them had figured it out anyway.

So what started out with longing gazing into each others’ eyes, ended with holding hands under the cover of darkness as fireworks exploded overhead.

Steve had never been happier and he just knew more happiness was coming his way.

Steve was proven right when Claudia called him up the next morning.

“Good morning, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve murmured sleepily.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she said, “did I wake you?”

Steve looked blearily at the clock on the microwave. It was after ten in the morning.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, “I don’t usually sleep this late.”

“While that is certainly true,” Claudia agreed, “you also don’t normally spend three full days at a fair. Too much sun, too much fun, and too little sleep makes for a tired Steve. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Steve blushed. “Thanks, Mrs. Henderson. Was there something you needed?”

“Oh, yes!” she said brightly. “Are you free this afternoon, from around two to four?”

Steve looked over at his calendar and squinted. “Looks like it, unless the nuggets call for rides to wherever.”

Claudia chuckled. “I think they’re going to be just as tired as you and not want to go anywhere today.”

He laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“So, me and couple of the other moms have a sewing circle every Sunday,” she explained. “And we were all wondering if you wanted to come and join us. We have punch and little treats and spend two hours working on whatever project we have going on while we fill each other in on what’s happening in our lives.”

“You gossip,” Steve accused, teasingly.

She giggled. “Gossip is such tawdry word.”

“Like your every day language wouldn’t make a sailor blush,” Steve said dryly.

“And how would you know that?” she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

“Ma’am, your son has the worst language I’ve ever seen on a teenager,” Steve said, “and I’m damn sure he didn’t get it from his dad. Even when he was alive.”

Claudia’s giggle turned into a full on laugh. “All right, you’ve got me there, Steve. So you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic!” she cried. “We meet at Joyce’s this week.”

“This week?” Steve asked, already plotting what to bring as a treat and which project he wanted to start.

“Yes,” Claudia explained. “We rotate every week so that one person isn’t stuck hosting every time. And if you come often enough, we’ll have it your place once in a while, as well.”

Steve frowned appreciatively. “Sounds good. I’ll see you later then.”

Claudia squealed in excitement. “I can’t wait. We’re going to teach you how to use a sewing machine!”

That really piqued Steve’s interest. “Oh yeah?”

“It was Karen Wheeler’s idea,” she explained. “Karen doesn’t sew like the rest of us, but she does cross-stitch while we all chat. Apparently Mike was telling her about all the sewing you did for him and his friends and that it was all by hand.”

Steve nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, my parents thought sewing was for girls, so I learned by hand.”

“Make sure to bring some examples of your work,” she said. “I want to blow Olive Peterson’s mind. She’s of the same mind as your parents, even though what she does, the knitting, was originally only for men.”

“I have these pouches I’ve decided to make and sell,” Steve said with a grin, “so I can bring those to work on and bring some of the work I did for the kids to show off.”

“That’s brilliant!” Claudia said. “I see you later!”

Steve said goodbye and hung up.

This just might be the thing he needed.

Part 13

Don't quote me on the knitting originally being for men thing, it was something I learned when I read a 12 Dancing Princesses retelling years and years ago. The soldier in the story knitted to keep awake at night.

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss

@croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv

@dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter @cryptid-system CLOSED

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

[the-kr8tor]

hi katyyy

not really holiday themed, but winter themed. how do you think would going with hobie ice skating look? (also maybe getting some hot chocolate).

i'm just SURE our man would look magnificent with snowflakes on his eyelashes

have good night/day!!

Adorable!! Thank you for all the love! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, lovestruck Hobie, FLUFF.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You'd thought bringing The Spider-Man to a skating rink would be an adorable date idea. His agility combined with his flexibility, not to mention his godly balance. You thought he'd fit right in even though it's his first time on the rink.

But the moment Hobie steps foot on the frozen rink his long legs start to wobble and skid along the ice like a newborn giraffe. His arms are flailing along his sides, trying to balance himself on the sharp ice skates.

You glide by his side, ready to catch him if need be. You're also a bit wobbly on your skates but still doing a lot better than your date.

“Please just take my hand” you hold out your hand for him to take.

“No, ‘m tellin' you I can do this” he stares at the ground, trying to skate or at least move a few inches. He lurches a bit, you instinctively take hold of his shoulder.

You both grimace from almost falling on the harsh ice.

“I can do it, lovie” he turns his head towards you without moving a muscle in his body to prevent losing his balance again. Hobie gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “I can't believe ‘m saying this but you can let go of me now.”

You chuckle, cold air puffing out of your icy lips. “Okay, I believe in you.”

“Kiss for good luck?” He's still like a tree, but his legs are shaking slightly in the cool weather.

You oblige of course, giving him a chaste kiss that invigorates him nonetheless. The warmth from his lips makes you want to kiss him more, alas you're in public so you let him go or else you'll actually show everyone what PDA truly means.

“You can do it!” You cheer him on as he glides on the ice from your small push.

His legs are apart, trying to balance. Too apart, and now he's in near splits. And down he goes on the ice, still in a split position. He laughs loudly, his pants will surely be wet from the melting ice by the end of the night.

Wincing, you skate towards him, careful not to run over his fingers.

“You okay, Hobie?” looking down at him, you can't help but laugh too, finding it contagious.

He beams up at you, the twinkling lights make his smiling eyes glitter under it, snowflakes dot along his long eyelashes. His piercings look almost iridescent. Hobie takes your breath away and you'll gladly give it.

“‘m fine, but my ego's bruised” he takes your hand, you help lift him back on his feet which was a bit of a struggle because of the slippery ice.

You hold his hands which are uncharacteristically cold. You're already reaching for your own gloves, taking them off swiftly before he protests. It's a bit short on him but it'll do.

“You're good, don't worry, I still fancy you after seeing you fall on your ass.” Putting both fluffy gloves on both of his hands, you don't notice the hearts in his eyes as he stares at you. “You were very graceful by the way.”

“I've got you wrapped around my little finger, eh?” He pokes your side that makes you yelp.

Hobie (currently drowning in all of your affection) takes your face in his hands, your own gloves warming your cheeks. For a second you'd thought he'd kiss you but he just stares, admiring how the holiday lights make you look ethereal and sighing longingly at the snowflakes trapped in your eyebrows and lashes.

“What?” You giggle, his warmth seeping to your skin.

“Nothin' just looking at my very own holiday miracle.”

“Sap” you're sure the heat on your cheeks aren't from the gloves.

Hobie pecks the frosty tip of your nose, “let's get hot chocolate, I'm freezing my arse off here”

#request done #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #spider punk #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x gn! reader #spider punk x you #hobie fluff #fanfic #hobie x reader

[ghostbeam]

charcoal artist!dabi x reader, first meeting, takes place before the other drabbles, he is a bit of a creep, his feelings sort of boarder on obsession, dabi is taller than you, suggestive language at the very end but it’s barely anything

He’s staring at you.

Eye’s flickering in between you and the spiral sketchbook in his lap. Concentrated, eyebrows furrowed, hand flying furiously across the page. You aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before with his dark hair sticking in all different directions, black boots heavy on the grass, sapphire eyes piercing, lost in you, in the page. No one’s ever looked at you like this, you think. 

You’re trying to be discreet, looking back down at your book when you see his eyes rise from the page. You’re not retaining a single bit of information as you’re suddenly focused on what he might think of you, how much of you he’s noticed, if you’re sitting weird, if your face looks wrong while reading. You think he’s cute, pretty, almost delicate, all eyelashes. 

You turn the page, not having read the previous one, and then look back up at him. Except this time, your eyes meet. Your breath hitches. It’s a little bit electrifying, paralyzed by his stare like you’re the one who got caught instead of the other way around.

Dabi feels his jaw fall open slightly at the sight of you, staring straight at him. Had you seen him? Did you know? He watches you close your book, not even checking to mark your place. You stand up, still looking at him. Dabi feels his heart drop to his stomach. You’ll call him a creep. You’ll run away. 

“Can I see?” He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed you getting closer. You’re all he can focus on, but you’ve surprised him. Can I see? Dabi thinks about the first time he saw you, right under that same tree, some text book bigger than his body sat in your lap. He felt the breath knocked out of him like some lovesick sap, not like himself. He didn’t even know you, but god, he wished for you. He did, like some idiot standing in the middle of the walkway closing his eyes and wishing on nothing, wishing on, well, you. 

Standing in front of him now, he sees now more than he ever has before that you’re every piece of art he’s ever loved all wrapped up in one. One portrait of you would be enough to satisfy him for a life time.

Only that’s not true, because he hasn’t been able to stop drawing you. It’s not enough, to sit across from you and capture your likeness in strokes of black charcoal. Over and over and over again, your cheeks, and your hair, and your lips in a pout, and your eyebrows all pinched. He can’t get enough. It’s almost miserable, except it’s heaven. 

And now here you are, standing over him and looking at him expectantly. Part of him wants to hide it away, keep it for himself, but that’s not fair because it’s you. It really belongs to you, should be yours, but Dabi is nothing if not a little possessive. 

Standing this close to him, you can see all of him, the pink puckered skin that spreads over him in various spots, the bit of black around his fingertips, the sun shining in his eyes. God, his eyes are blue. Could that color ever be mixed, replicated, brushed onto a canvas and still make you feel the way looking into his eyes right now does? You don’t think it could, and you don’t see the point in asking the man who works with charcoal before you. 

“It’s me, right? You’ve been, um, looking over there, so I thought…” You speak, suddenly afraid that it wasn’t you he was focused on. The thought of him being lost in the scenery on the campus behind you suddenly makes more sense than him paying so much attention to you, but there’s no mistaking that his eyes were on you the last time you looked up. 

“It’s you.” He manages to speak, suddenly very conscious of the rasp in his own voice. “You—I’ve seen you sitting there. Couldn’t help myself I guess.”

It’s one way to explain it, definitely less creepy than the fact that he saw you and felt like he might die unless he could put you to paper. 

You hold your hand out, a little impatient, more out of excitement and a little nervousness than anything else. He stands up, and your struck with the fact that he’s much taller than you. He places the sketchpad in your hand, and you force yourself to look away from his face.

You fill the page, almost every blank space filled with your face in different expressions and your body sat in different positions. He had to have been sitting there for much longer than you though to have been able to draw all of these. It’s all you, but it’s him, this piece of him that he’s allowing you to look at, take a peak inside. You want to see more. You want all of him. You want to take and take and take, and not because he has you trapped in his pages, but because it’s not enough to know him through just these strokes and smudges. Even if he lets you keep this, you’ll look at it every day, this piece of his soul, and wish it was the real thing.

It’s the same way he’s felt about you for the past couple of days. 

“Do you have more?” You ask him, a little breathless. 

“Of you?” He asks, but he thinks that it was probably stupid of him to say. He feels exposed, but by his own words and the way you look at both the page and him like your seeing him in a way no one ever has before. 

“Anything.” You shake your head. “All of it. I want to see it all, you—you’re very talented.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, the excitement, the desperation beginning to feel embarrassing. The stunned look on his face makes you feel self conscious, and maybe you should just walk away or leave him alone. 

But he wants to show you everything. 

He writes his address across your palm with a pen he’s pulled from his back pocket. He has classes during the day on Mondays and Wednesdays, but he tells you that you can come by any other time. It’s strange, you think, for him to give you his address instead of his number. It feels fast, and stupid, to meet him at his place without knowing anything but his name. (Dabi. A name that feels like it was meant to fall from your lips, and he would agree). 

But he’s ripped out the page, placed it in your palms, and told you he’ll see you later, like he’s always known you. It’s not enough, to look at your face made from his hands in lines across a page. You want to feel them on you, over your skin, grabbing and taking, your want and his. With a piece of his heart in your hands, you decide that no matter how stupid, or fast, or intense it might be, you’ll go to him.

#dabi x reader #bnha x reader #LISTEN. I’m obsessed with him #he’s so weird giving u his adress instead of his number #nowhere near by yo la tengo plays in his head when he sees u it’s fine #GOD! #ghost.drabble #ghost.writes #finished this tonight am queing it for the morning idk man hiiiiii

[icannot3]

"Holidaze"

(Peter Maximoff x Reader)

Word count:4.3k

Warnings: Smut with a LOT of plot below. Mutual pining. Female reader. Oral (f receiving), riding. So much sap it makes your teeth rot because I'm an unapologetically corny mf.

.......

The snow gently falls to the ground with a sense of elegance you find yourself encaptured with. Today has made for the perfect white Christmas as a hefty coating of fluffy snowfall stretches for as far as you can see. Your window is rather small, perfect for the modestly sized room you have in the X-mansion. The festivities around this time of year always excite you. Lights of every color illuminate your room in contrast with the dark night air from outside. Unfortunately, the weather hindered you from visiting any family, as they too were trapped in the security of their own homes. Nevertheless, your day was still rather enjoyable.

A knock at your door pulls you out of your relaxed state. It's already rather late, and the day is nearly over. Visitors at this trifling hour are typically frowned upon by Charles. Although you're a teacher, he always claims that it sets a "bad example" for the students. Luckily for your visitor, rules are only flexible guidelines in your eyes. You open the door and to your delight it's Peter.

His hands are behind his back, and he grins mischievously. Peter's balance switches as he moves back and forth on his heel, unable to contain his insurmountable joy. You already have a suspicion for what he's about to do. Perhaps the reason is because of the noticeable glittery bag he has in his hands that he is blatantly failing at hiding. You laugh at his antics, allowing him to come inside.

"Thanks, babe." Peter takes no time in allowing himself to get comfortable. After handing you your gift, he lazily flops down into your loveseat, right next to the tree. He props his feet up in a flash and stretches out comfortably.

This was nothing out of the normal for the two of you. Peter would often drop by just to keep you company. He himself bought the very couch he sits on just for that reason. Or at least you'd like to assume he bought it with his own hard-earned money. Chances are that he snatched it from a display window. Not that you felt bad for the greedy corporation he likely took it from. Peter would never steal from a small business, which truly was all you believed mattered. Peter grabs a sucker from his pocket, one of the ones you stuffed his stocking with earlier in the day. "I told ya' I got you a present, I just left it in my room."

You raise an eyebrow at him, grinning. "You're so full of it, I bet whatever is in this bag you got today." You begin to take out the red paper at the top, taking a seat on your bed. "But thank you regardless. This is sweet." There's a few filler candies, all notably your favorites that he's observed through the past couple of years you've known him. Your final gift is at the bottom, wrapped sloppily in perfect Peter fashion. There's multiple layers of paper wound around the small box, one of his trademarks he does every year to mess with you. You've counted five so far before there's a layer made entirely of ducktape. With that, you dramatically sigh and glare at him from your seat.

Peter cackles at your aggravation, offering absolutely no assistance. It doesn't help that your nails are short and give you no leverage in peeling the material away. After lots of triumph, the final layer is torn away at your desperate hands. A black jewelry box is revealed. Peter raises from his spot, standing in front of you. "I promise it's worth it."

He bites into his sucker impatiently, which makes a loud crunching noise that makes you cringe. Then, he places the stick back in his pocket. His eyes are locked on you, awaiting your reaction. The anticipation had nearly killed you already. Your thumb quickly pops off the top of the box to reveal whatever is inside.

It's a beautiful necklace, one that suits your style perfectly. It has sparkling diamond chippings shaped in the form of an infinity symbol. You gasp in awe at how thoughtful of a gift this is, especially from Peter. In the past, he'd never gotten you anything so sentimental. Granted, his gifts are always delightful, but this one in particular leaves you dumbfounded. The DVDs you'd gifted him earlier that day suddenly felt underwhelming in comparison.

"You like it?" Peter inquires. "It's because we're gonna be friends forever. Try putting it on." He gestures at the piece. For only a moment, you wonder if this is truly an act of simply friendship. A part of you hopes there's something more. But Peter remains nonchalant, acting as if this gift is casual. Shoving your feelings inside, you take the necklace out of the box and fidget with the hook.

Peter gently takes it from your hands. "Don't want ya' dropping it, aye? Am I the greatest gift finder or what?" He instructs you to turn around. You can hardly find yourself the will to deny him. His fingers tease the sensitive back of your neck as he fiddles with the chain. It sends a shiver down your spine. Your silence seems to worry your friend. Once Peter attaches the necklace together, he taps your shoulder. "You alright, bud?"

You swallow, turning around quickly to face him. "Oh! Yeah, totally. This was just so thoughtful of you, Peter. Seriously. How did you even come up with this?" You hope he doesn't notice the shakiness in your tone. Suddenly, rather riled up, you find it hard to sit still and speak to him.

He offers a grin you find assuring, his big brown eyes looking into yours. "Ah well, you know. I happened to be passing by this suuuper large jewelry place. I'm talking three stories alone were dedicated to just bracelets. And I thought, 'I know someone who wears this stuff all of the time!' So I walked in, saw it, and thought it was totally you!" Peter expressively talks with his hands, insisting on gesturing how large this place was by stretching his arms out as far as possible. His hand bumps your shoulder, leaving you laughing at his dramatics.

He stands up from your bed, which makes you feel rather upset at the now lack of closeness. "Anyways, it is getting kinda late. I guess I'll let ya' sleep. I heard from Raven that Hank is gonna be putting us to work during training tomorrow since we didn't do anything today." He slides by the door. You groan with frustration. No part of you doubts that statement. Peter nods his head in agreement, his eyebrows raising. "Oh, yeah, one final thing!"

You look at him, giving all of your attention. He turns the door knob getting ready to exit. "I figured, since neither of us really has anyone to be with for the New Years Party, that it might be cool if we kiss at midnight? You know, just cause' were pals, and it would be weird kissing anyone else. I mean, Jean has Scott, Raven and Hank will obviously go for one another like last year. And I trust that you don't wanna kiss Charles anytime soon. So it would probably be best for you and me to do it, that is if you're down?"

This leaves you stunned to silence, face red hot from the proposition. Your mouth is wide open, and you try to speak, but only a few incoherent noises come out. Peter throws his head back, laughing. "Don't stress, bud. I'll leave you to think about it. Later!" Without another moment to spare, he zips away.

Sleep doesn't come easily that night. Nor does it for the next six days at the thought of Peter suggesting kissing you.

New Years Day comes all too soon. The topic had not resurfaced since Christmas night. You'd thought about it daily. The topic had made you an absolute wreck, and Peter seemed truly unbothered. Everything had to be perfect. You spent nearly two hours preparing. From doing your hair to ensuring your lipstick went on just right. You chose a flattering black dress that did marvels for your curves.

It only made sense that at the beginning of the party, you'd taken a few shots of liquid courage to prepare you for what was to come. There isn't enough in your system to leave you incompetent, just to make your doubts feel a little lighter. Everyone gives you a kind word when you enter the room. Ororo is the first to shoot you a wink and compliment your outfit. You curiously scan the room, looking for your best friend that you did all of this for. Unable to spot him, you waltz over to the punch bowl. Whoever made it put edible glitter in the mix, which you found rather charming. There was also an array of different finger sandwiches, a cheese plate, fruits, and other mouth-watering treats you couldn't deny yourself from. Grabbing the largest plate available, you pick your fair share of what is there to offer. Loading the last small cookie onto your plate at the end of the line, you turn around only to jump at the sight of Peter right in front of you.

He catches your tray that slips out of your grasp for you expectantly. "Woah there, wouldn't wanna lose all of the snacks I prepared." He hands you back your plate graciously. "I'm glad someone wants them." Peter's eyes check out what's on your plate, scanning the items before taking a sandwich off it. You frown in disapproval as he takes a bite. "Hey! Get your own." You jokingly scold him. His hand cups his ear as he leans forward, acting as if he can not hear you. The sandwich is gone in three bites at his mercy. He guides you away from the snack station, pulling you to the side.

"Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable at all. I'm sorry if what I said made you feel kinda creeped out. I promise that by me asking that I didn't wanna -" Quickly you object the rest of his sentence, shaking your head no at his apology. To silence him, you take a cookie off your plate and shove it into his mouth. His eyes grow wide when you do, but he takes bite and allows you to speak.

"No! I agree. You were right. It only makes sense that we kiss. No hard feelings at all!" You stammer with your words, the composure from earlier slipping away as you begin to already sober up.

Peter sighs with relief, putting his hand to his chest. "Good, I was getting a little worried. I guess we should get ready then. The countdown is about to start." He throws away the remaining scraps of your treats and leads you to the TV screen broadcasting the ball drop.

There's five minutes on the clock still, which gives you only a few moments to prepare. When Peter looks away, you check to make sure your breath smells fine. You hope he doesn't take too much notice of it. Adjusting your hair, you make sure all knots are untangled. There's a lingering thought that wonders what he'll do while he kisses you. Will he run his hand through your hair? Or will he pull you in by the waist? Your nerves begin to heighten when you remember how long it's been since you kissed someone last. What if you'd forgotten how to do it right, and it just makes the entire experience awkward? Peter is encaptured by the screen in front of him and takes no notice of your frenzied panic. There's thirty seconds on the clock now. You can hear your heart beating in your chest when everyone around you begins to count down.

15...

Surely there's no way he'd judge you? He's your best friend. If the kiss goes badly, the two of you could just make a huge joke out of it, and it won't be an issue.

10...

Peter finally turns to face you, grinning. Your doubts still ramble on. What if it is a big deal and he actually likes you, and every chance of the two of you getting together is ruined by this one single moment?

5...

Peter pulls a festive paper hat with polkadots and streamers on it out of his pocket and places it on top of your head. There's a soft look in his eyes as he adjusts the string comfortably underneath your chin. Finally, your final doubts flow into the idea that this kiss could make your relationship more than just a friendship. You question everything leading up to this moment and think about the fact that there is a chance that Peter may truly love you in the same way.

The ball finally reaches the ground, and everyone cheers around you. There's no thinking allowed now, only action. Peter cheers with the others, blowing into his party horn before finally leaning in.

He places his hand underneath your chin delicately in order to tilt your face up to his. His free arm pulls you in closely. Like the fireworks being set off right outside, his lips ignite you with overwhelming emotions. He's soft with his kiss, sucking your lip with a sense tenderness you could only dream of receiving. You return it to the best of your ability, melting your lips with his in harmony. His nose brushes against your own as he pulls away, leaving you breathless.

It ends all too soon. You desperately crave for more and wish more than anything that he would pull you back into his arms and kiss you again. But instead of voicing this, you cheer giddily. Grabbing his obnoxiously loud party horn, you blow into it as well.

You look around at everyone else in the room who seemingly are also enjoying the party. This is because you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes, or else you'll become a mess. Peter was right on the money, predicting all of the couples that would be kissing at midnight. Hank and Raven are secluded in the corner, sharing a glass of wine. Scott and Jane laugh together by the fire before he pulls her in again. Erik and Charles sit together as if nothing had happened and continue their chess match like normal. It's a wonderful sight to see that fills you with joy.

That is, until there's a sudden blur of colors as you can feel yourself fly in the air. You're brought back to your room, coming to an abrupt stop. Peter clutches your shoulders with his hands, looking your face over a dozen times. Your brow raises in confusion. "Peter, why did you take me here? Are you alright?" He only shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath you can't make out. "What? I can't hear you."

He meets your eyes, trailing his hand down your back. "I can't - I mean, I just." He inhales sharply. "Please just stop me if you don't want this." Before you can even respond, his lips meet yours once again. They're just as soft as before, transcending you to a greater state of mind. Each one of his kisses pulls you in more. It's only when you need to breathe that he pauses for a second. He pants, leaving you equally as spent.

You trail your hand up and push his silver locs to the side in order to get a better view of his face. "I didn't actually care about having someone to kiss tonight. I just wanted an excuse for it to be you." Peter gently pecks your lips. "I didn't just come across a jewelry store and randomly think about getting you something there, I thought about it months in advance." He traces his finger across your lips. "I'm really really sorry if you think all of this is too much. I know I've been really pushy with this, but you just kissed me back. I feel like if you didn't sorta kinda feel the same way, you wouldn't do that. I'm not trying to force you into anything you don't want, and if this is not it, then your words the way and I will skedaddle."

Peter points his thumb in a backward motion, clicking his tongue. "But if you also want this, and there is some formidable God out there that has granted me the honor of having someone like you like me, I promise I'll make sure you don't regret it for a single second." He presses his hands to his sides as if he's scared of breaking you with his touch.

You can't find the words to describe how you feel. It's far too overwhelming to try. Instead, you crash your lips into his, never wanting to break away again. Peter wastes no time in grabbing you by the hips. You wrap your arms fully around his neck, allowing him to consume you for all you're worth. You lead him back to your bed as his kisses trail down your neck. The sensation of his hand coming up your thigh is so delightful that it makes you want to scream. All of this time that you've longed for him has made you sensitive to his touch. You tug at his jacket, which he gladly removes at your request.

Finally, he lays you across the bed. This allows you to wrap your legs around his waist eagerly. "Fuck, you've gotta be careful with that babe. It's hard to control myself when you make it so damn hard." Peter runs his hand through your hair delicately. "I don't want this to be just a one-time thing. I really care about ya." You can feel your eyes gloss over ever so slightly at his loving words. Your head nods in agreement. "I know, I'd love to be a real thing with you. I've liked you for a long time." Confidence has finally made its way back into your body, allowing you to freely speak. "Please kiss me."

Peter flashes you a cheesy grin. "Yes, ma'am!" His hands trail up and down your body in ways you'd never felt before while he kisses you. They trail down your back and across your rear imploringly. His thick finger slips underneath the strap of your dress, tugging it down your shoulder. He freezes, resting his forehead against your own. "Is this okay?"

You nod fervently, begging for his touch. He begins, moving the sleeves expertly off your arms before pausing yet again. "You sure?" He's teasing you now, and it's driving you insane. You can tell by the smirk you can feel against your neck. You smack him on his arm without doing any harm to get your point across. Peter lets out a deep chuckle and continues to pull your dress down, eventually discarding it on the floor.

You're eager to touch him. Tentatively, you trail your fingers down to the zipper of his jeans. You can feel his hard on and slightly squeeze, which makes him gasp at the contact. Imploringly, you continue, unbuttoning his jeans. Peter's hand reaches down to grab yours. He intertwines his fingers with you. "Hey there, eager beaver. I'm not finished with just you yet." His kisses sloppily start at your chest, right between the mount between your breasts. Your bra is very quickly discarded, which Peter shows clear delight about. His eyes light up at the sight of you, almost bear beneath him. "You're really beautiful, babe. Do you know that? I'd hope you do."

He rolls a nipple between his fingers, sending a tingling sensation throughout your body. You're blushing more at the fact that Peter just called your beautiful more than him seeing you naked. You gasp when Peter's hand cups your clothed cunt, still not yet breaking that boundry. Your thighs squeeze together in anticipation, holding him there.

Peter curses under his breath, moving his kisses down your body to your lower abdomen. His finger loops under the delicate lace as he finally reveals all of yourself to him. You're elated to see his cheesy grin as he gawks at the sight, staring at you as if he's a pirate and you're his lost treasure. His hands come up your thighs and halt at the curve of your hip. It's only now that you realize what he's going to do and try to stop him. "Peter, it's okay! You really don't have to do that for me." There's a slight panic that drills you as his head lowers to your heat.

He softly laughs at you. "Trust me, I'm gonna love this. You just sit back and relax, madam." His tongue trails through your folds, leaving your further protests caught in your throat. There was no arguing now with the undeniably pleasurable feelings Peter was drawing out of you. His mouth works into you more, kitten licking your sensitive clit. The strong feeling of him holding you in place only elevates the sheer delight. Every noise you make in response only pushes him more to continue. His ministrations get unfathomably better after every second.

You gasp his name. "Peter, I want you. All of you." He meets your pleading eyes that tears threaten to spill out of from the pure extacy. Peter finally stops, removing his t-shirt. His toned body is a sight to see. With his pants already halfway undone from your previous handiwork, they slide off with ease. You bring yourself to sit up on the edge of the bed to meet him. He plays with your hair, smiling at you sweetly. Your thumb hooks under his boxers, which are Star Wars themed. Something you note that you can tease him about later. With that, you tug away the final layer of clothing that separates you.

Peter goes to climb on top of you once again, but you take the initiative and flip him onto his back. He doesn't dare to stop you as you rub against his cock with your wet cunt, teasing the idea of it slipping inside you. You kiss him, allowing the sweetness of his lips to put you in a comfortable daze. His arm reaches up your back and soothes you. Lining him up with your entrance, he thrusts his hips slowly forward and pushes inside of you.

The stretch you feel is heavenly. Your plush walls suck him in completely. Peter can only bring himself to roll his head back with delight. He struggles with holding in every little noise that he feels the urge to make at your ministrations. You raise your hips up as far as you can without him sliding out, only to sink back down and take him fully once more. Repeating this, Peter brings a hand to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut. "You're doing so well- fuck." He leans up, kissing you fiercely. His tongue sloppily explores your mouth with a sense of desperation you could never imagine would be over you. He uses his now free hands to guide you up and down his cock, doing most of the lifting to spare your aching legs.

Peter rolls you beneath him, staying connected to you still. His thrusts become relentless and almost too much to bear from the inhuman speed. Your orgasm is steadily approaching. You can feel your senses highten from it. His sensual touches and praise leave you in a state of bliss. Nothing else matters, only the tight coil in your stomach and Peter's lips that precariously suck your neck. He's surely already left a mark you'd have to explain the next day, but this is a concern for another time.

"You're so good. So fuckin' perfect. Why have we never done this? You're the best thing that could've happened to me. I'm not gonna last much longer, baby." Peter groans in your ear, bringing his hand down between the two of you. His fingers trail over your swollen clit and a rippling sensation that follows makes you gasp with suprise. It sends you over the edge immediately, which makes your entire body quake beneath him. Your back arches uncontrollably, and your mind goes blank.

Peter stiffs above you, pulling out. He paints your stomach with his cum opting not to do so inside. You're both short of breath, Peter especially. He collapses beside you, looping his arm around you for a hug. "Thank you so much. So, so much." He pecks your temple. "Give me one sec."

The space beside you becomes empty for just a moment before he returns, wiping you softly with a wet cloth. "I'm so sorry, that probably feels disgusting." He laughs, "Maybe we should take a bath together."

You raise at last to peek at him, the beaming expression on your face being incredibly obvious. "Yeah, I'd like that." With another fluid motion, he sprints back to the bathroom and starts the flowing water for the tub.

You pull Peter into a tight hug when he returns. His skin is comforting and warm against your own. He brings his strong arms tightly around you. A euphoric buzz flows through your brain. This was better than anything you could ever dream of. Taking a deep breath, you bask in the wonderful scent of him.

You press your cheek against his chest. "So, I see you like Obi-Wan Kenobi." You laugh and recall the design on his boxers from earlier.

Peter confidently replies, "Damn right. I have a whole set of them I'll have to show you."

#evan peters #peter maximoff #x men #fluff #peter maximoff x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff smut

[steviewashere]

Love Should Be Simple, It Should Be Kind

(also on ao3)

wc: 2,869, Steddie Tags: Post Season 4, Post-Canon, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington's Dad Is an Asshole, Fluff, Happy Ending (Full tags are on ao3, but there's no content warning).

---------

He has to break the news eventually. Steve knows this. As he looks at the plane of Eddie's bare back, flexing whenever he shifts, as it moves to accommodate him bending over to taste the pasta sauce at the stove.

Last night, Steve got off shift from Family Video, broke some minor traffic laws, and had dinner with the Munson's at their home. The excitement of not having to go home to a stale conversation over hastily put together food or a night in which he argues with his dad so fervently, that all he can do is go to his room and lock the door, food forgotten.

They do this every Friday night. And it always brings a flooding warmth to his chest.

But, this'll probably be the last time that they're going to have a late lunch, the day after an amazing dinner. Because Steve had to ruin it. Because he always ruins things. Because he had to run his mouth the morning before. And he ran away, like his dad told him not to.

Eddie turns away from the stove. His hair is pulled up. And his eyes are glowing, somehow, in the low amber light of the living space. They shine like fresh tree sap. And he has the softest smile adorning his features, forcing his smile lines by his nose to wrinkle deeper, his dimples making a faint appearance. He closes his eyes and tosses his head from side to side and chuckles. "Man," he drawls, "wasn't that movie last night amazing?" His head falls back. Features still relaxed. The line of his throat stretched, his Adam's apple ever present.

Truth be told, Steve doesn't remember the movie. Doesn't even know the title.

He was too worked up. He was afraid of what would happen if he was sent to his house.

"The way those special effects looked. Could'a told me it was real, and I'd believe—" Eddie now looks down from the ceiling. His eyes are open. Wide and bulging. Mouth forming a soft scowl. Whatever happiness, giddiness, relaxation, whatever—it's now missing. As he drinks in however Steve looks; he must taste like some cheap wine with the way Eddie's continuing to sour just at the sight. "What's wrong?" Eddie innocently asks, "Did you not like the movie?"

Steve shakes his head and sighs through his nose. Caught. He's been caught. "No," he murmurs, "it's not that." He rubs a hand over his eyebrows and leaves it there as his eyes catch on the worn tablecloth at the dining table. It has holes in places where Eddie probably picked at it. Pen stains from burst ink cartridges. A few tough crusted spots. Little scrapes in the fabric that tell Steve, People eat here. "It's not that," he whispers at the table.

He doesn't see it, but can hear Eddie pad towards the vacant dining chair just across, and plop down. As if the food doesn't even matter. As if he isn't actively cooking. As if he has all the time in the world and all the care in the world and all the sympathy in the world to listen to Steve. To listen to his...problems. All the things wrong with him. All his—

A hand settles on his free one. Eddie's fingers rubbing at veins and warm skin. "Stevie," he gently croons, "what's going on?" Those fingers are dancing over his skin they flip over the backside of his hand and they settle at the edge of his palm where it meets wrist. Steve thinks it's lovely. The way Eddie just dishes out love like it's free. Or like it's easy growing in some paradisal garden. Or like it's something infinite. Like, maybe, Steve is infinite.

He laughs. Steve laughs at that thought. At the hand on his. At Eddie's soft words. At his careful demeanor. At his failed life outside of Hawkins. At the tablecloth that shows what family should be—tastefully messy and worn from time. At his dad's silence. At himself, for asking yesterday morning, when his dad was angry and vengeful, "Did you ever love me?"

And he giggles at the absurdity. That somebody like his dad could love somebody like him. For all his failures and all his misfortunes and all his burdens—the hospital bills and spilled blood and scream-himself-hoarse nightmares. And laughs, again, at his dad's silence to the question.

Steve laughs until there are tears down his face. His hand falls away and his head is tipped back, hair brushing the top of his chair. He looks back at Eddie. And Eddie looks back, like Steve is some wild thing, like some devious thing, like some science experiment that came to life and doesn't know how to live.

He laughs even when his lip quivers and his chest tightens. And stops, finally, when the next sound is no longer jovial, but sad and pained. A sob that dug itself from miles of collateral damage in Steve's chest, rose through his throat like vomit procured from too many vodka shots, and burst open from his mouth as a hideous monster, even uglier than any of those that he's fought the last few years.

"Did you know that my dad doesn't love me?" he asks, reedy and weak. Wet and tinny. Childlike and lonely. "He doesn't love me," he says, as if he can conjure the will for his dad to speak. For the words—I love you—to fall from his mouth.

"Steve," Eddie breathes out.

"He never did. Said that I—Said that I wasn't his son," he spits. Sniffles between words. And almost becomes drunk from the sentiment of what he's admitting. "He—He wants me gone."

Eddie stands from his chair, drags it behind him, and sits impossibly closer. He places both his hands on Steve's shoulders and ducks down to look him in the eyes. And without another moment's thought, he tucks Steve into his bare chest. One arm slung over his bouncing shoulders and the other wrapped securely around his head. Protecting him, it feels like. Shielding him from the worst discovery of his life.

They don't move much at all. Just Eddie shifting his hips every now and then to accommodate the way Steve's body continues to slump downwards. And Steve's whole torso jerking with how hard he sobs. Right into bare skin, over Eddie's heart; and he isn't pulled away, isn't repositioned to make Eddie more comfortable, he just lets Steve do his thing; his heart performing an act of Kintsugi.

Because the softness of his palms meets the grittiness of Steve's hair. His cheek cushions on his skull and he doesn't complain when Steve jostles too much. He squeezes with all his might, keeping them both in the small space Eddie has created.

Because, "I love you," Eddie whispers. "It's not the same, but I love you. I love you, Steve. I love you," he continues to mutter.

At the quietest part of Steve's crying, when he whimpers and hiccups and can't move from the exhaustion, Eddie just whispers, "Be with me. Stay here."

"I can't." He pulls away, sitting up with the same amount of effort to lift a car with his bare hands. "I can't just be somebody else's burden. That wouldn't be fair to either of you."

And Eddie sighs. He takes Steve in. His bloodshot, half-lidded, glistening eyes. The splotchy skin of his cheeks. Moistened and bitten lips. His ruffled hair and slouch to his shoulders. How he picks at the skin around his thumbnails. Small. Defeated. Resigned.

Steve goes to say something when the silence stretches far too thin, but is immediately close-mouthed as soon as palms cool down his cheeks. Eddie's fingers are calloused. And thin. They barely rest. Moving to trace over an eyebrow, under an eye, the eyelid, forehead, smoothing wrinkles, hesitantly pushing in at the corners of Steve's mouth.

They lock eyes.

"Can I tell you something?" Eddie suddenly asks. Steve just hums. And Eddie takes a swift, courageous breath. "When we were in high school together, I used to spend a lot of my time just gazing at you. Not watching. Not glaring. Gazing.

"I'd see the way you shifted on your feet. Your little hand shakes when you were nervous, as if you were trying to get rid of the energy. I'd take in how tired you sometimes seemed—and I'd go to your locker and slip you a note with a little bit of cash for some coffee—"

"That was you?" Steve squawks.

Eddie chuckles. "Let me finish," he whispers. And is met with the smallest of Steve smiles, his little endearing one—not his confident or his bitchy or his won one over smile, just him being him. He sighs.

"I would overhear you talk about your dad. Sometimes to other people. Sometimes to just yourself, and I always could tell those were the toughest days. You know? You just seemed so...so sad. Restless." Eddie rubs his thumbs under Steve's eyes. "And your eyes wouldn't be as bright. I could always tell something was off. But you just went on.

"You went on believing that you were bullshit, when Nancy told you. You went on believing that you couldn't be anything more than your old self, even when you weren't the one reigning in school. You went on without your friends, graduating by the skin of your teeth, face bashed in sometimes, defeated and tired other times.

"Even when you worked at the mall. And then at Family Video. I was jealous of you, sure. But I was also worried for you. You seemed, and I know this whole thing I'm saying sounds really rude, but you seemed lifeless. Just drifting. Unbelieving that anything could stick, and if it did, not for long.

"But I—God, I just looked at you and thought, Who wouldn't love him? Because I did. I still do. And your father is just too horse shit to see what he's missing out on." He drags his hands downwards, resting them on either side of Steve's neck. "I think about if I ever got to love you, how I'd do it."

Eddie's gaze is set on Steve's. His eyes soft, thoughtful, enriching. His voice is gentle, "Like I would wake up next to you in the morning and swipe away the hair in your eyes. I'd count your moles and kiss my favorite one. I'd peck between your eyebrows and gently wake you." His fingers dot the places he mentions. Pressing long term between Steve's eyebrows.

He continues after a breath, "I would go into our kitchen and make you a cup of coffee. Teaspoon of milk, teaspoon of sugar, the way you like it. Butter some toast, fry up a piece of turkey bacon, and scramble eggs with cheese. Because you don't like French toast or pancakes for breakfast, too sweet. I'd bring you your food at the dining table. Pour you a cup of pulpless orange juice. Sit next to you and hold your free hand. I would kiss the back of it and you'd tell me something like, 'Ew, Eds. Your lips are greasy,' but your eyes would be fond.

"Send you off for work. Help cart around the party. Welcome you back home. Turn on a sports game, because you get excited and you get loud and you look younger and you become so vibrant. And I'm not gonna make fun of you for that, because you don't make fun of me when I go crazy over a new album or a new idea for one of my campaigns or when I explain all my nerdy shit to you."

"It's not shit," Steve interjects. Voice soft and enamored. So far away from what it had been just moments ago, hoarse and agitated and incredibly depressing.

Eddie just smiles and continues, "I'd wash your hair for you in the shower. Get on my knees and scrub at your skin like I was praying at an altar. Which—I know I haven't done in a while, but—I'd figure it out for you. And I would comb your hair and whisper soft things and kiss your shoulders. I'd guide you to bed after we have spaghetti for dinner. Blow you or something, I don't know. Sex isn't, like, something we need to do for me to love you.

"And afterwards, I'd clean you up again. Kiss your forehead. And tuck you under my arm. Because you're the kind of guy that wraps everybody else up, but you deserve to be wrapped every once in a while. Every night, if you'd like. Then, we'd wake up the next morning and do it all over again." Eddie sighs, rubs his thumbs in little circles over the part of Steve where his neck meets his shoulder. "I'd never get tired of that. Because I'm already halfway in love with you. And I never think about doing otherwise." He clears his throat.

"My point is, I'd love you. And also, you don't need love from shitty people. Especially when they don't make the effort to show you or even say it. I would happily do it anyway. There are so many people who'd love you better than what he could ever offer."

After all that, Steve is speechless. Can only sit and stare at Eddie. Feel his ever fidgety fingers against his skin. Hear his tiny puffs of breath, neither anxious nor frustrated. All he can do is look, take-in, digest.

But he knows how he feels.

He's been on some dangerous precept. Fall in love with Eddie, which he feels as though he's already jumped over ledge and started doing otherwise. Or fall back and let Eddie love him, however fleeting it may be. Because there's not an option where Steve is without some amount of love, in any form, when it comes to Eddie.

Him and his brash attitude. Thousands of stories. Hundreds of tiny quirks.

Like when Eddie sits on the couch and listens to any song, his fingers tapping out the bass line over his stomach. Or when he hones in on the guitar and is able to map in air where the chords would sit, as if the neck is right there in his other grip, strung across his body. There's the ting he does when writing a campaign idea; pencil resting on his chin, the eraser end running agist the jut of his lower lip. Tugging his hair over his face to hid how compliments wash over him. When he hears a slow song, something more acoustic or soft, he stands in place and just sways his hips—whereas in the car, when it's a metal tape, he's got one hand braced on the ceiling and one on the dashboard, head banging with the jump of the wind.

Eddie's offerings. Making meals. Playing certain songs. Humming when Steve has a nightmare, either over the phone or right under his ear. He acts begrudged by it, but he takes Dustin to the arcade when he asks, or Lucas to basketball practice, even Robin when she wants to go to the bookstore. Maybe it was the near death experience, but he acts first on a lot of his feelings. Apologizes more frequently, when he's done something especially dickish.

And how his love is branded from Wayne, Steve always notices. Because, though Wayne is a quiet and gentle man, he still gives what he can. Offers a space on the couch when Steve wants to join in on the football game he's watching. He hands out the beers, uncapped before he sits down. Serves guests and his nephew first, before himself. And his almost unnoticeable little thing, wrapping an arm around one of their necks, and dropping a chaste dry kiss to the top of their heads.

Steve had asked about it. Eddie just answered, "It's his way of making sure we're there."

And as Eddie hands over a plate of spaghetti, sprinkled with the amount of parmesan that Steve likes, and a cold glass of ice water—Steve finally realizes.

"Oh, you love me,' he whispers.

Eddie's head darts up from where it was looking down at his plate. And his gaze softens when it meets Steve's. "Yeah, Stevie. I love you a lot." Dimpled smile.

"And—And you want me to stay here?" Eddie nods in response. "Oh," Steve mutters. "Wow."

Steve appreciates that Eddie doesn't say anything in return. Just sets his fork down and offers out one of his hands, palm up. The other resting on the table.

He dances one of his hands over the tablecloth and gently places it in Eddie's.

Squeezes.

"I love you, too." He squeezes once more. "I'll find better words to say it."

"Not needed," Eddie murmurs, "stay here, though?"

And what is Steve to do, but nod? He'll have a hell of a time to pack up his bedroom, but at least where he's going, the meals are homemade and the lights are warm, and there's enough love to feel full. To feel, for the first time, like he doesn't have to beg for it.

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #now for the tags #post season 4 #post canon #friends to lovers #love confessions #angst and hurt/comfort #fluff

[rockingrobin69]

First things First

“Not this again,” Harry murmured, with the eyeroll and the tragic sigh and the telling quiver in the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” Draco grinned.

“You know I hate it when you—” gasped when Draco took his hand, pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. “Malfoy.”

Draco batted his eyelashes. He’d heard from a very credible source they were devilishly long, and awfully convincing. “What? Am I not allowed to court my partner?”

“Allowed isn’t really the issue. We’ve been married for three years, arsehole. There’s no need to court me.” Still, with a slightly-trembling hand, he took the flower. “Where’s this from, then.”

Grin widening: “A village near Halifax. Got rid of the nastiest case of Knottivites you’d ever seen, the poor lamb was barely even visible underneath it. Got her trimmed and happy by tea-time, and the field was just lovely on the way back, all blossoming. Made me think of you.”

“Because the grass is just like my eyes,” Harry said, in a tone that was probably meant to sound mocking, failed miserably. “No, let me guess, a flower reminded you of my lips.”

Such cheek could only be met with decisive action, Draco thought, and grabbed his husband by the waist, brought him close-close. “It was actually a tree,” with a huff, and a kiss to the tip of his nose. “A specific curve in a branch. Perfect, just like your arse.”

“Oi!” Harry squealed when Draco pinched, “get your—honestly! Draco, that tickles, you son of a—ha, ow, ow, stop!”

Flushed-cheeked and in his arms, unbearably sweet, laughing and squirming. “Never,” Draco said, and he meant it. “Harry, I—”

“No! Stop it! You silly thing, I know,” breathless, “I know you’re a sap and I know you’re relentless and I hate how, how,” stopped there, shook his head. “I can’t think when you’re like this. Can’t you just, insult me a little or something?”

“In a minute,” Draco promised, nudging until he had access to Harry’s neck, to kiss it and kiss it. “I think I kind of like you like this.”

“Shut up,” still laughing. “You like me any way.”

Draco hummed. “It’s possible.”

“And you’re im—Draco, ha ha, stop!” to the probably-ticklish nips up his jaw, behind his ear. “What about dinner, you git. Stop with the bloody, attack, okay, we get it, you like me!”

“Do we,” with a lick just to drive the point across. “Do we get it. That I like you. Honestly, Potter, sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing wh-hat!” the cry turning into an actual shriek when Draco picked him up, legs automatically fitting around Draco’s waist. “What the fuck!”

Harry was heavy, and Draco’s whole body was sore from casing all day in the field. Happy, happy, he carried his husband to the sofa, and dropped him there with a thud. Climbed on top of him, crushing a bit. “Do we get it now?”

“That you’re a twat? Yeah, baby, we knew that already.”

“Mm-hm,” with a helpless grin. “And you hate it, of course.”

“Despise it,” this fire in his eyes, truly unbearable.

Draco traced his bottom lip with a gentle thumb. “Abhor it,” he added nonsensically.

“Detest it,” nodding, spreading his thighs wider, wiggling so Draco slid closer. “C’mon, Malfoy, quit nattering and kiss me already.”

“You fiend,” with affection thick in his throat. “Do you get it, though. How much I like you. How I think you’re the loveliest thing in the world, and the prettiest, the most precious—”

Harry put his hand on Draco’s mouth, then replaced it with his own. “Yes,” in between kisses, breathless, “yes, I got it, okay. I’m lovely and precious and you’re a prick.”

“He truly does get it,” ducked, still laughing. “What about dinner.”

“We’ll get to it,” getting himself comfortable on the sofa, red-cheeked and the dearest thing Draco’s ever seen. His husband, who’s so easily flustered and so incredibly sweet. “What about my kisses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” raising an eyebrow, “I thought perhaps it’d be too sappy for you to—”

Harry smiled against his lips: dinner would have to wait. This was more important.

(Flufftober day 14. Find the soft AO3 collection here). In this ficlet, Draco is a Magi-vet in honour of @unleashed-fest, a wonderful fest fluf-full of magic, animals, magical animals, and lots of fun. Go check it out!

#drarry fic #700 words #softttttttt #flufftober2023 #prompt: “I hate it” - “No you don't" #rockingrobin69

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Summer | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Summer in Westview is quite the adventure :)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Mild language, innuendo

Word Count: 2.7K

Masterlist

The week you took vacation from work was the hottest week on record for the small suburban town of Westview, New Jersey.  There were a million things on your to do list, but the sweltering heat and stifling humidity sapped all of your energy.  The shed needed to be painted, the driveway needed resealing, and you promised Wanda that you’d finally go through the boxes of “stuff” that were sitting in the basement.  Yet all you wanted to do was sit on the back porch with a beer, work on your tan, and stare out over the sparkling ripples of water in the pool that you didn’t have…until today.

It was meant to be a surprise for Billy and Tommy, but you and Wanda both had to admit that you were excited, too.  Talk of a pool started as a joke.  The idea of actually going through with it seemed absurd at first: the yard wasn’t all too big, taking care of a pool was a lot of work, it wasn’t exactly cheap to have it installed in the first place…your shared list of excuses stretched on and on.  Yet the more the two of you joked about it, the more you found yourselves falling in love with the idea of your own personal oasis.

Keeping the pool a secret wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be.  Although Billy and Tommy often made passing remarks about wanting a pool as the temperature rose, Wanda kept them in check with a smart remark about money not growing on trees or an eye roll.  More often than not they dropped the subject.  But it was frequently followed by a subtle smirk or knowing glance in your direction: the boys had no idea what was coming.

On this hot and hazy Thursday morning, after Billy and Tommy were picked up by the school bus on their way to summer day camp, the local pool installation company pulled into the driveway.  Since you were getting an above ground pool, it would be finished before the boys got home from camp.

“So who’s gonna get in the water first?” you asked Wanda as you sat in your Adirondack chairs on the back porch.  “Billy or Tommy?”

“Tommy.  Definitely.  I’m not even sure he’ll change out of his clothes before he jumps in,” Wanda chuckled.  She swirled her straw around the glass of freshly squeezed iced tea, the ice cubes clanking around the glass as she looked out at the two workers setting up the walls of the pool.

“And you’re sure we can’t get in as soon as they’re done filling it up?  That we have to wait for the boys to get home?”

“Y/N-”

“Only kidding, my love,” you retorted.  Truthfully you weren’t kidding.  The donut floaty wasn’t for them…

******

“Still can’t believe we actually did this,” you thought aloud, skimming your hand across the surface of the water.  The sun bounced its crisp surface as the blue liner sparkled brightly underneath the ripples.  You smiled as your fingers broke the surface.  

“The boys are going to love it,” Wanda replied as she splashed the water around.  

“Yeah, sure, they’ll love it, but think of all the fun we’ll have with it.”

“Oh?”

“Two words: skinny dipping.”  

“Y/N!” Wanda blushed bright red at your devilish thought, but you knew that she was just as excited about the prospect of a late night nude swim as you were.  You ducked out of the way when she splashed water in your direction.  “We have neighbors!”

“And-?”

“I don’t think Agnes would appreciate seeing either of us naked.”

“We don’t know that,” you answered with a knowing grin.

“Keep it up and you’ll be the one going in the pool with your clothes on,” she warned.  Suddenly Wanda reached for her pocket, her soft marimba text tone echoing softly against the soft hum of the pool pump.  “Shit,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Kate called out, they’re one girl short for the 3-11 shift,” Wanda sighed.

“Do you want to go in?” you asked.

“Not really, but it looks like I’ll have to.”  Wanda placed her phone in her back pocket, rubbing her temples as she stared into the pool.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.  I can watch the boys tonight.  It’ll be some good bonding time for us.”

“No, I know you can watch them, I just wanted to be home for this tonight.”

“I mean I don’t know about them but I think I can find a way to make it up to you later,” you teased with a wink.  Wanda merely shook her head and smiled as she headed back inside.

“Sex isn’t always the answer to everything, Y/N,” she replied over her shoulder.

“Who said I was talking about sex?!”

******

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” You extended both arms in front of you as Billy and Tommy jumped off the school bus and ran up the front porch.

“He did it!” Tommy yelled, pointing an accusing finger at his twin.

“What did I do?” Billy exclaimed.  “Whatever it is, he did it!”  The accusation sent the two into a back and forth of hearsay until you managed to intervene before push came to shove.

“Woah!  Take it easy, dudes.  No one’s in trouble.  Your mom got called into work so it’s just us tonight.  Which is cool.  We were just gonna grill up some burgers for dinner later, but there is a surprise for you in the backyard.”

“Dirt bikes?!” Tommy asked giddily.

“A trampoline?!” Billy asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Why don’t you go out back and check it out for yourself?”  You grinned at them as you lowered your arms, allowing them to push each other out of the way as they trampled up the steps of the front porch.  “Don’t kill each other before you get there!”

Before long shouts and cries of awe and excitement echoed from the backyard.  There was no doubt that they were overjoyed at the sight of the brand new pool.  It didn’t take that much longer for them to rid themselves of their backpacks and t-shirts and scramble into the crisp, cool water.  You laughed to yourself, extremely grateful that you yourself didn’t have to wait any longer to indulge.  Throwing on your swim trunks, which you pre-set in the downstairs bathroom, you practically dove in on top of the boys.  

The three of you spent the next few hours splashing about in the cool water.  Billy was the first one to find your donut floaty, much to your chagrin.  You instantly felt you had to reclaim your rightful place on said floaty so naturally you flipped him off and climbed inside.  That started an intense game of king of the hill.  Tommy convinced Billy to team up against you.  They attempted to sneak around you and swim up from underneath the floaty in an effort to flip you over.  They failed.  Multiple times.  Eventually you ended up dunking both of them, flipping them off the floaty after they thought they had you beat.  

Once you were thoroughly waterlogged, you grabbed your towel to dry off.  The boys begged to stay in just a little bit longer.  You relented only on the condition that nobody mention it to Wanda.  That was the mantra of the evening: don’t tell Wanda.  Don’t tell Wanda you flipped both boys underwater, don’t tell Wanda you let them stay in the pool for as long as they did, and definitely don’t tell Wanda how you accidentally set Agnes’ tree on fire.

******

“Y/N, are you sure you were a Boy Scout?” Tommy asked as you failed to spark the bonfire for the dozenth time.

“I don’t think he was a real Boy Scout ‘cause we’d definitely have a huge fire by now,” Billy whispered rather loudly to Tommy.  

“Either one of you think you could do a better job?”  You twisted around, lighter alternating between their reluctant faces.  The stunned silence gave you their answer.  “That’s what I thought,” you responded as you turned back to the firepit.  Standing there, hands on your hips, you harrumphed at the pitiful pile of sticks in front of you.  Normally it was no trouble starting a fire.  You’d done it plenty of times before.  Something just wasn’t working. 

“Now what?” Billy asked, his head cocked at an angle as he watched you staring at the pit.  

Sighing, you rubbed your temples as you weighed your options.  There was no way you were going to let the night end without some sort of pyrotechnic display.  That and you really wanted a s’more.  So there was only one real option left: a little bit of help.

“Hey Tommy, can you go grab the can of gas from the garage?  And Billy, can you go grab the newspaper from the counter?”

“Seriously?  Mom’s gonna kill you,” Billy told you.

“And that’s why we’re not going to tell her about this, okay?”  Billy, always his mother’s son, rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen.  Tommy, on the other hand, sprinted toward the garage.  Once the boys returned, you doused the kindling with the accelerant and wadded up the newspaper, stuffing it in every nook and cranny.  “Alright, now stand back.  I don’t want you two too close in case this thing goes poof.”  Grabbing the box of matches, you struck three against the side of the box and tossed them onto the pile.

The resulting explosion was impressive to say the least.  The shockwave from the ignition caused you to stumble backwards as a fireball shot high into the sky.  Billy and Tommy both cheered as the fire came into existence, but they weren’t the only ones yelling.

“MY TREE’S ON FIRE!” Agnes yelled out the window.  “YOU SET MY TREE ON FIRE!  WHY IS MY TREE ON FIRE?!”

“Shit!” you muttered as you raced for the hose.  You apologized profusely as you sprayed the water over Agnes’ tree and the fire itself, extinguishing everything until it was a smoldering mess.  The boys muttered to themselves the entire time, watching wide eyed as you scrambled to put out the fire and Agnes leaned out her bedroom window in her nightgown to yell at you about trying to kill her.

“Does this fall under the ‘don’t tell mom’ category?” Billy asked not-so-innocently.

“Breathe a word of this to your mother and I drain the pool.”

******

Wanda returned from her shift around 11:30.  The boys were already asleep and you were on the couch with another beer trying to figure out how to keep Wanda from learning about your near-disaster with the bonfire.  It felt like the future of your relationship rested on how well Billy and Tommy could keep their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Wanda called softly as you heard her bag thud to the floor.  “How’d it go with the boys?”

“Oh you know,” you replied.  “They kept trying to drown each other in the pool and then when I got in they tried to drown me.”  

“And everyone tells me boys are easier than girls,” Wanda sighed.  “Or at least that’s what Agnes tells me.  She tells me a lot of things, you know.”

“Oh?”  Shit.  She knew.  “Like what?”

“Like how you practically blew up the neighborhood a few hours ago.”  Wanda stood in front of you, her arms crossed as she glared down at you.

“Okay she’s exaggerating.  It wasn’t the whole neighborhood, it was just the backyard.”  That wasn’t making things any better.  Wanda continued glaring at you.  You couldn’t tell whether she was going to murder you in your sleep or do it right there.   

“It’s a good thing I love you, mister, or you’d be sleeping on the couch for a month,” she scolded as she shook her head.  You gulped as a wave of relief flooded over your body.  “Now how’s the water?”

“What?”

“The water.  In the pool.  How is it?”

“Uhh fine, good.  Refreshing?  Wanda-”

“Come on,” she said, extending her hand.  “Let’s go for a swim.”

“Now?!  Wanda, it’s almost midnight!”

“And?” she replied as she pulled her t-shirt off.

“You brought your swimsuit to work?” you asked, casually pointing at her burnt orange bikini top.  “You brought a bikini to work?”  You were practically drooling as Wanda undid the buttons on her jean shorts, sliding them down her legs and kicking them in your direction.  All she did was smirk.  “Goddamn, woman.”

“Go get yours on and meet me outside.”  She turned on her heel and walked toward the backyard, her bikini bottoms leaving nothing to the imagination.  

You raced upstairs for your swim trunks, the other pair you knew Wanda would love.  There was no way you’d wear these ones around the boys for obvious reasons, but around your lover?  Without a second thought.  The bright red, three inch, leave nothing to the imagination shorts were packed deep in the depths of your underwear drawer.  You pulled them out, quickly exchanging your gym shorts for the trunks before dashing back downstairs.

Wanda was already in the pool by the time you got outside.  In the pale moonlight, your girlfriend was ethereal.  The light reflected off her pale skin, dancing on the soft ripples of water.  She was sitting in your donut floaty.  Her head rested on the plastic frosting and her eyes were closed in a state of relaxation.  Her feet kicked lazily in the cool water, beads of water rolling down her legs as she let the stress of her unexpected shift melt off her.  She looked absolutely at peace.  

Yeah, we’re gonna fix that, you thought as you walked over to the pool.  Taking great care, you climbed the ladder as quietly as you could and entered the water with the utmost stillness you could muster.  You shivered as the water creeped up your legs and over your waist as you crouched down.  The pool wasn’t too big so you didn’t have far to swim.  As soon as you were underneath Wanda, you pushed against the bottom of the pool and upward, completely tossing her off the floaty and into the water.  

Wanda screeched as she felt herself fly off the floaty and into the water.  She kicked and sputtered as she came up for air. You, on the other hand, were doubled over in laughter.

“What the HELL, Y/N?!” Wanda shouted as you continued laughing.  

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized between laughs.  Wanda looked absolutely furious as she cocked her head at you, pushing a wet strand of hair out of her face.  

“Fine.  If that’s how you want it.”  With that, Wanda began wading over toward you with a devilish look in her eyes.  

“Wanda, what are-?” Before you could finish your thought, your girlfriend wrapped you in her strong arms and practically body slammed you underwater.  The waves crashed over you again and again before settling.  “Not fair!” you sputtered, coughing up the water you were currently choking on.

“You started it!” Wanda reminded you.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And your dick looks huge in those trunks,” she smirked, glancing down at the shorts that had practically molded themselves to your body.

“Didn’t think I needed the trunks for that statement to be true, Wands,” you replied cheekily.

“Oh you don’t.  I’m just admiring the presentation, that’s all.”  Wanda waded toward you as she continued to eye your bulge.  “And you’ve even got it wrapped up in a nice bow.  How thoughtful.” 

“Here?  Right now?” Your heart caught in your throat as she slipped her fingers inside the waistband of your shorts.

“Weren’t you the one who suggested we go skinny dipping earlier?”

“Come on babe, I was just joking.”

“I know,” Wanda chuckled as she tugged your waistband toward her.  “I’m just teasing.  But I think you could stand to loosen up a little.”  

“I…you’re not wrong there.”  You shook your head as you laughed at her.

“The boys asleep?” she asked, glancing up toward their room.  You nodded, noticing the lack of light coming from the room.  “Basement?”

“Works for me,” you shrugged.  You yelped as Wanda snapped your waistband back against you. 

“Come on, tiger.  I don’t wanna wait much longer.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

[gloryy-vs]

Some soft Neteyam and human reader, she helps the tribe in herbs gathering and somehow he always finds her in the woods and walks with her

||

writing this while watching miraculous ladybug. y’all i’m digging the sully brothers x human readers rn 😭

characters: neteyam x human!reader

ratings: sfw , fluff , soft

||

You sat on a patch of awfully vibrant green grass. Feeling how soft it was underneath your hands as you scraped tree bark for the clan, along with gathering small seeds they helped you identify early on when you first came by. You were said to be the only human they could tolerate, how you assisted them and adapted to their ways easily, without wanting to change them or damage their home. While searching around for various nuts, seeds and stems you failed to notice a set of golden eyes staring down at you from behind. Neteyam sat on top of a thick and hearty branch, admiring you from afar. How your face lit up every time you’d find something useful to the clan that often ran out of quickly. The sun was setting quickly, and you had no care in the world about it. Even though Eclipse was a dangerous time to be out.

While you remained with your back towards him, he jumped down, placing his bow around his back, squatting down to around your height. You yelped, pressing yourself to the tree in front of you. Whipping your head around, Neteyam held his hands up. “Just me, just me.” He said with his cute little accent. You placed your hand over your heart in relief, at least it wasn’t a viperwolf. You sat down again, looking up at the blue alien. “You scared me, were you out hunting?” He reached his hand out to you, letting you hold onto his index finger since it was all your hand could fully wrap around. “I was. You are still looking for materials, no? It’s almost eclipse, I need you back in one piece.” Neteyam said, pulling you by your hand.

You technically had no other choice but to follow him, grabbing you basket of herbs, spices and other things for the clan. He stood up, now really towering over you and you were forced to let go of his finger. Neteyam picked you up, holding you in one arm so you wouldn’t have to be beneath him so uncomfortably. “What did you get this time?” He said, glancing down at you while he avoided hanging vines and branches from smacking both of you in the face. You smiled happily, always ready to share what you found to be useful. “I got some bark, there was some sap on the trees that I picked up, plus the usual stuff Neytiri asks of me.” You said, taking a few things out of your basket to show him, before placing them back inside on your lap. He gave you a strong smile, readjusting your position in his left arm. Neteyam was proud of you of course, and admired the way you were so passionate about helping the clan.

As you two reached base, he lowered you to the ground again, squatting down next to you. “Good work for today, but don’t let me find you out there again near Eclispe. Next time it’ll be a viperwolf carrying you to their home.” Neteyam said, brushing the hair away from your face with his pinky finger. You rolled your eyes, planting a kiss on his chin, “Yeah, yeah. Thank you, Neteyam.”

#neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #avatar way of water #neteyam imagine #avatar loak #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar jake #neteyam x you #avatar x reader

[backmuscles21]

Curls

Tonowari x Reader x Ronal

Summary: A short little fic about your mates finding out about your curly hair and Ronal braiding it in traditional Metkayina fashion. Thought of this while oiling my own hair.

You want to get your hair redone; you wanted a new style and you had some regrowth. Neytiri had just taken your braids out, she intended to rebraid it later. You wanted to wash your hair first, however, the kids wanted to go swimming and you thought it might be fun to join them.

You went into the fresh waters of the Metkayina reef, you swam around with the kids for hours. You swam with your mates’ kids and your brother’s kids; you had a good water fight and you saw so many pretty water creatures.

After some time, you got out with the kids, you were hungry and tired. You had washed your hair while out swimming, and Tsireya showed you an amazing flower to scrub your scalp with. You walked up to the mauris with Tsireya and Ao’nung, Tonowari was walking around with your new baby in his arms. Ronal had given birth a few months ago and was busy healing others in the tribe, Tonowari was on baby duty. When you saw him, you kissed him and took the baby from him, to give his arms a little break. You knew when Ronal got back, she’d want to hold her baby which you understood.

You rocked your body back and forth as you cooed at the baby, Tonowari smiled down at you as he kissed your head. Tsireya and Ao’nung went into the mauri as you and Tonowari stood outside. Tonowari thought you were an amazing mother, he loved watching you hold the baby, and he couldn’t wait till he got you pregnant. The difference in your body made him nervous but both Tonowari and Ronal wanted to see you pregnant although you were Omaticaya and they were Metkayina.

Ronal was walking back to her home and saw both of you standing there, she smiled to herself. At this point, your hair started to dry, your hair had started to curl slightly. Ronal walked over to you and saw the baby in your arms, she kissed both you and Tonowari and then the baby before she grabbed a lock of your hair. “You didn’t tell us your hair was curly,” she sounded aghast.

You looked down at your hair, “oh yeah, it’s from my human DNA. My hair was curly when I was human, it transferred over.”

“Normally Omaticaya don’t usually have any curl pattern in their hair. I am surprised. Why did you not tell me?”

“I didn’t think of it. My hair is usually always braided.”

“We have not been oiling it properly. It needs hydration. Come with me, we will oil it and rebraid it.”

Ronal took you into your shared mauri and sat you down, you still held the baby in your lap and Ronal picked up a leaf and lightly cracked it open. Inside was a thick gel-like substance that was known to be very hydrating. She took some in her hands and massaged your scalp then she took some more for your ends.

“This is amazing, I needed to get my hair hydrated. It’s been so frizzy. In the rainforest I used this tree sap, it wasn’t sticky it was like an oil and it did a good job.”

“Your hair is quite nice and soft and long too.”

Ronal started to brush your hair, ensuring it was all saturated before she started to braid the hair at the top of your head. She went tight to the scalp and back halfway and finished the braids off, she was doing a half up and half down style. She tied your braids up and the hair that stayed down was curling nicely, Ronal grabbed a different plant to put in the hair that stayed loose. She put that into your hair and it helped solidify your curls as they dried.

When she finished, Tonowari came back into the mauri and saw your finished hair. You stood up and Ronal took the baby from you as Tonowari had you spin around so he could see your hair. It was the classic Metkayina style and he loved you in his style, he loved you wearing Metkayina clothes and cooking Metkayina style and now even your hair was Metkayina style. It’s like he was staking his claim all over you without needing to actually mark you as his.

“You are very gorgeous yawne. If I had known I would’ve done your hair myself.”

“You couldn’t take that from Ronal.”

“Tsireya will want to put some pearls in your hair later. She will put more braids in it and make your hair so much better,” Ronal said to you as she played with some of your ringlets.

#avatar the way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar twow #polyamory #ronal #tonowari #tonowari x reader x ronal #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x reader #ronal x reader

[sammunmak]

Specs & Max Freelance Police in: Hells-A-Poppin'!

+ sam’s vices !!

this is basically an au idea i had for the alt timeline! i wrote out all the changes to the first two seasons, but it's a bit on the longer side so i'm sticking it under the cut.

this takes place immediately after sam and max steal the elevator from their future selves. there’s no obvious changes at first. the director gives them another contract after telling her they misplaced the first one, but not without threat of not giving them another one if they manage to misplace this one. once they wrap up the case and free myra stump from the hypnosis, they take the elevator (and their music contract) with them and put it away in storage, vowing to never speak of the possibility that they just killed their future selves again. ah well, knowing themselves, they probably survive. everything else afterwards is pretty much the same, though when sam and max see superball for the first time sam asks max if he looks familiar. max takes one look at him and proudly declares nope, not at all, and that’s the end of that.

the first major change happens in 106.

hugh: for in all the universe, there’s only one force chaotic and destructive enough to stop me now! but you wouldn’t do that, would you max?

max: who, ME? well, i’m- i’m flattered, but-

hugh: no you wouldn’t, not without your trusty partner, at least.

max: huh?

sam: what exactly are you implying?

hugh: i’m going to… drumroll, please… [drumroll] separate your bliss!

max: really?

sam: what does that even mean?!

hugh: it means i chop off every part of you i don’t like! it’s like circumcision, but double the laughs.

max: he-ey!

sam: quiet, knucklehead.

sam gets split into 3 vices. gluttony, greed, and wrath. wrath is formed from sam’s right ear, greed is formed from sam’s left hand (it even keeps the wedding band!), and gluttony is formed from. well, the stomach. max loses all romantic interest he had in hugh bliss in that moment. 

max is very annoyed about the whole situation. he never has to do work on their cases, and suddenly he’s being forced to figure everything out on his own! but seeing sam’s awful blissed-out state is worse. blissed-out sam is basically just a big puppy. all smiles, completely clueless about everything around him, and has to be led around by his remaining hand if max wants him to go anywhere. max considers shooting him every time he makes a comment about hugging trees or something sentimental crap like that, but one look at that big dopey grin on sam’s face and he just can’t do it. he needs to turn sam back quickly, he’s turning into a sap just being near this… shell of his partner.

wrath is in the sanctuary, threatening the COPS for information on max’s whereabouts (yes it’s just noir sam lol). when max and bliss sam finally make their appearance, wrath almost immediately tries to shoot bliss sam. max stops it, of course. it seems like max is the only person wrath won’t lash out against. max has to open one of bluster blaster’s side panels, then get wrath close enough to it to shut the panel on his ear, pulling it off wrath when it tries freeing itself.

once sam gets his ear back, he seems to randomly decide to shoot at max.

max: what was that for?!

sam: i dunno, it just felt right.

when max walks into bosco’s store, he immediately makes eye contact with gluttony sam, who’s sitting on the floor eating a giant tub of ice cream. it doesn’t seem very interested in eating actual people (haha foreshadowing?) in the freezer are a bunch of popsicles. max can grab one and give it to gluttony, who’ll chomp it down wrapper and all. max has to put jimmy two-teeth into one of the wrappers in order to get gluttony to eat him, then pull out jimmy and sam’s stomach with the magic hat.

sam: anyone else suddenly got a hankerin’ for a fudgie freeze?

max: you don’t know how glad i am to hear you say those words.

greed is inside the office, hoarding just about everything in there and more. somehow there’s items in here max didn’t even know they had. or maybe greed just grabbed everything not bolted down to the floor on the way back to the office.

max has to buy bosco’s invention (which is just a big magnet), then use the spoon bending talisman to pull the spork out of the hugh bliss statue’s hand, give it to greed, and then use the magnet to drag its ass towards him and just yank sam’s hand off it.

sam: are you using that magnet?

max: nope! it’s all yours.

upon collecting all 3 vices, sam returns to normal, and they can now go fight hugh bliss. cue world of max :)

not much else changes until 204.

once they enter momma bosco’s store and accidentally reveal max’s lack of interest in girls, momma bosco becomes infatuated with him. sam and max try and argue against this for a while, until max tells her that he’s a married man.

ms b: i don’t see a ring on your finger.

max: well check again!

max flashes his left hand, revealing a bare ring finger. oh. he didn’t put on his ring today. sam is missing his ring as well. seems they got a bit excited when flint invited them on a case with him and forgot them.

(not gonna lie this whole puzzle isnt fully fleshed out. the whole plan would be that they have to go back to their prom and essentially crash it in order to help max realize he doesn’t like girls. i did also have the idea of superball printing marriage certificates instead of patents, which they’d need to grab one from him and hang it on the corkboard in the near future, then go to the distant future and take their wedding rings from their future selves. if i do ever have an idea of how exactly this all pans out i’ll make it into a fic or something. for now tho this is the best i could come up with.)

max is very proud to show off his new wedding ring to momma bosco.

later on, sam is glad he kept that music contract on him, once one of the pedros asks for one.

of course, despite keeping their past selves from boarding the UFO, the elevator is still oddly enough missing when they run back to it.

max: hey, the elevator’s gone! what gives?

sam: hmm… remember what got us into this whole mess, the temporal anomalies and whatnot? maybe it’s another one of those? maybe this is the universe’s way of trying to correct the timeline, and we have to leave the same way our future selves did, since we’re-

max: alright, alright! less talky more- figuring out how to get off this dang ship!

ah well, having two elevators seems a bit overkill anyway. 

not so long later, in 205:

sam: you better release our pals’ souls from hell, cause my excitable little friend is getting angry.

max: and i’m angry, too!

satan: there’s no need for that kind of talk. i’ll gladly release your friends. just sign this release.

max: hold on sam, i got this!

sam: …you sure, max? 

max: positive! watch this. [he pulls out a crayon and scribbles his name on the contract]

satan: and that’s that.

sam: well that was pretty easy.

satan: now just do me a favor and think of the most horrible thing you can imagine.

max: ooh, that might take a second, there’s so many- oh, maybe- wait no, i’ve got it!

satan: good. now off you go!

[max disappears]

sam: sweet summering sausages sweltering on a busy sidewalk, what did you do?!

satan: he traded his soul for that of all your friends. they never read the fine print. now max will spend eternity in his own personal hell!

max: back in the office? where’s my partner?

specs: i’m over here!

max finds himself stuck inside a now very tidy office with specs, the neat freak of the soda poppers.

max: so where’s my REAL partner?

specs: what are you talking about, i AM your real partner.

max: uh, no. last i checked my partner was a six foot tall dog in a suit, not… you.

specs: oh, max. clearly you’re confused. you’ve always had a terrible memory. but don’t worry, i’m here to keep everything in order for you.

max is just about ready to start ripping out patches of his fur when he sees sam, sticking his big nose through the hole in their office wall. after a bit of arguing, max remembers the key card. he yells at sam to use it so they can kick demon’s spec’s ass together. when sam gets in there they do just that, ending in sam throwing the demon out the open window. with max’s personal hell defeated and leonard’s soul free they leave and finally go and confront satan.

as a bonus, a fun change to a piece of dialogue in 201:

sam: how long do you think it’ll take for one of us to kick the bucket?

max: i dunno, but i think if one of us were to go, the other would follow very close behind. maybe not even by choice!

sam: does that mean if i go first, i can take you with me?

max: sure does! in fact, i encourage it!

#sam and max #freelance husbands #people actually liked these ideas and i was like huh??? hello???? #but it gave me a lot of confidence so i pulled out all this stuff and dusted it off to post it #i hope other ppl like this!! #i'm still working on the tdph changes but i am. a notoriously slow worker #and tbh i almost wanna turn that into a handful of fics so. IDK WE'LL SEE #sam & max #sam and max freelance police #sam and max freelance husbands #sam and max fanart #sam and max save the world #sam and max beyond time and space #sam and max au #alt timeline au #idk i’ll come up with a name for it #i’ve just been calling it the alt timeline au or alt au #soda poppers #the soda poppers #agent superball #momma bosco #mama bosco #hugh bliss #also did anyone notice i used it/its for the vices. we get silly #my art :3

[bonefall]

I'm sitting and looking at somebody's take about the scene of Willow Tail's death

"Clear Sky is fabulous here, and the deaths look karmic. Willow Tail dies blind bc she was so blinded by her wish of revenge she put innocent cats under threat and led to deaths of a medicine cat and an innocent kit. And Wind Runner, who prevented Moth Flight from saving Tiny Branch, lost a life to an injured leg just like he did. Beautiful."

Ig I'll just leave it here like a tribute

"the deaths look karmic" is the only correct thing in this passage. Yes, the writers ARE obsessed with punishing women, gruesomely zooming in on how much pain and suffering they're feeling when those horrible bitches finally get their comeuppance. Glad they can at least recognize torture porn when they see it.

Go one baby step further-- why do the writers keep choosing to frame the women as primarily responsible when Clear Sky is the same violent, egotistical tyrant he always was?

Willow Tail does die blinded-- by Clear Sky. The way he is constantly brutalizing every woman and foreigner in front of him. Just like how he was smacking Moth Flight before he ordered Red Claw to go up into the tree to beat the shit out of Micah and confiscate medicine, because he doesn't care when people die of treatable illness.

But, sure. Sure, it's Willow Tail who caused the death of Micah, when she sees Moth Flight's face sliced open by a known serial murderer and jumps to her defense, and then learns that Red Claw has been ordered to attack a doctor.

For those who haven't read Moth Flight's Vision, btw, Willow Tail is revealed to be the villain all along because she was planting rabbit bones on the border. This made Clear Sky mad because Wind Runner said "make your cats respect the borders YOU invented, bc MY cats didn't eat those rabbits" and she didn't just accept his answer of "nuh uh."

That's why it's totally the WOMEN'S fault that Clear Sky was throwing this tantrum, and not his own. Being offended is a totally valid reason to deny medical treatment and do assault and battery. Why would you ever hold a man in a position of power accountable for his own actions?

Wind Runner also didn't kill Tiny Branch through medical neglect. Clear Sky did. Can't believe I'm still saying this.

HE was the one who prevented Acorn Fur from getting help. He keeps insisting that he never needed Micah or any other foreigner to heal Tiny Branch's ailments. He didn't want Micah when it was a cough, and he didn't want Moth Flight when it was a fox attack.

-Said in the Sap Confiscation Scene

-Said as Tiny Branch is dying, confirming that yes, he DID stop her from getting the help right away.

Wind Runner PROPOSED an embargo at a meeting that SkyClan was absent for, AFTER Clear Sky had already insisted on denying medical treatment to Rocky and got Micah killed. Wind Runner's hypothetical embargo was broken less than a minute later when it's revealed SkyClan was late by several hours because Tiny Branch got attacked by a fox.

Here's how long they're held up by Wind Runner, though. All 214 words, less than a full page in dialogue, of it.

How long would you guess this took? Was everyone here speaking at 0.025 speed? Did someone hit the slow motion button? Were they escaping out of a time bubble?

Why's Shattered Ice never mentioned as killing Tiny Branch, btw? The one who actually did physically hold up Moth Flight (but not the other three Medicine cats, Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart), even if it was for less than 30 seconds? When he's not even from Wind Runner's Clan? CURIOUS INNIT?

I need to remind you that he was also responsible for preventing Acorn Fur from being fully trained. That was HIS choice. HE closed the border. HE stopped Moth Flight from completing Acorn Fur's training. HE is in the middle of a book-length hissy fit about being told what to do.

And, yet, Moth Flight is held up for less than 5 minutes after Clear Sky forced Acorn Fur to save his son alone until signs of infection set in, and this is all Wind Runner's fault.

So he later kidnaps Moth Flight, expecting Wind Runner to just trust that THIS time he takes a hostage he's not starving them like he did to Jackdaw's Cry, and not launch the two Clans into war. Redemption arc, btw.

And then he gets to be framed like a hero even though he is 100% responsible for every single one of his actions and escalated the situation at every turn. ZERO consequences for him, because him letting his own baby suffer and die was "punishment enough."

The bloodthirsty tyrant, child abuser, woman beater, and known liar was totally justified because It Made Him Sad When Wind Runner Didn't Trust His Word :( This was all actually an evil, scheming woman's fault for planting bunny bones, lol. So she totally deserves getting her eyes ripped out.

At MOST, the narrative considers Wind Runner and Clear Sky "Equally Bad", but only Wind Runner and Willow Tail get personally punished. With death and agony. Surely, SURELY this is not because of writer misogyny? In the Arc of 7 Fridgenings? Perish the thought.

Anyway, glad that I've curated my dash enough to not see that take out there in the wild. Who would even write something so ridiculous, Gray Wing?

#bone babble #warrior cats analysis #Clear Sky #Moth Flight's Vision #DOTC hate #Willow Tail #Anyway everyone it is now our job to be as annoying as possible and stan Willow Tail at all costs #Willow Tail Did Nothing Wrong legion rise up #cw misogyny #seriously though. fucking BUNNY BONES??? #BUNNY #BONES