#poor little dude must be cold as fuck

[friend-crow]

I HAVE JUST HAD AN EXPERIENCE

So I'm outside putting cozies (rags and duct tape) on the faucets and it's starting to snow, and a hummingbird comes up and is all up in my shit, so I'm like "okay boss, one refill on sugar water coming right up."

So I take down the hummingbird feeder, and the little dude comes and lands on it while it's in my hand. It keeps flitting away and then coming back to see if it is somehow refilled now. Zero apparent fear of me (it might be the hummingbird who has nested in my back yard the last couple years, or one of its offspring, but at any rate it seems to know that I refill the sugar water, and am generally on its side).

I can't WAIT to put the feeder back up, but I have to wait for the sugar juice to cool down a bit first.

#poor little dude must be cold as fuck #I'm sure it'll enjoy having a warm beverage

[the-flowerwolf]

Hogwarts legacy headcanons

While normal people go and socialize I wake up and think about ✨them✨

So there's some headcanons about my favourite Legacy Team (as I call them) for ya folks while I'm writing a really big fic about them. Careful, some of them are sad. And don't mind my poor grammar thanks.

Btw, collages are mine, feel free to use them💙

🐍Sebastian Sallow🐍

First off all, if you turn him in, I don't trust you

Literally a typical Slytherin

A nerd. Just a nerd.

Quidditch? Babe, the only sport for him is dueling

Felt absolutely helpless when his parents died. And that's why he's so protective. He just can't let anyone else die on his watch

Really is a small version of his father and proud of it

Believes that the end justifies the means

Hopeless flirt BUT a gentleman. Wouldn't do anything you don't like

And also most probably believes in true love

A proud bisexual

Everyone think that "he fucks everything that moves" but he's a virgin who "saves himself for the one and only"

As some fan said, he was probably born on 18th September. And it's a canon now.

A great friend but a terrible secret keeper, so for Merlin's sake, don't tell him ANYTHING

Knows how to braid hair into the most complex ways

Pro feminist! Treats women right and knows all important stuff thanks to his sis

🔥Natty Onai🔥

I'm sorry but she's so underrated and for what??

I believe she really respect traditions she were tought as a child

Her favourite holiday must be her birthday. All because it was the only day of the year when her parents forgot about all the dangers and sorrows and they just got together, spending the best time

Most probably will return to the homeland after Hogwarts

Is the only member of the team who play quidditch

(as a keeper ofc)

She's a lesbian idk dudes

A very honest girl who were raised to be a good person

So she just expects the same from others

A very competitive. But not like Imelda. Natty respects fair competition and knows how to honorably recognize a match

Although this does not mean that she will not destroy you to win

Is always cold poor thing

Religious bc I feel like it

Has mommy issues and don't tell me I'm wrong

Will definitely become the best auror one day

🌼Poppy Sweeting🌼

Her favourite holiday is Christmas lemme tell you that

Trust issues

She's trying her best to be gentle with every living being because she saw too much violence already

And that's why she thinks animals are better than people (agree)

She's definitely an INFP and I won't change my mind

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you

A cliché but I feel like she's an excellent cook

Although she would LOVE to find someone to understand her (like us) she's totally okay with being on her own

Is into mind games like chess

But will go to see a quidditch game just to support Natty (and mc if they play)

Is always up to an adventure

Bullies? Girl grew up among killers, you really think she would care about some bullies?

I feel like she has the strongest personality in here. Doesn't matter what happens she will always stand straight while helping others

Is a cat person

Can't cry bc she was not allowed as a child

💚Ominis Gaunt💚

Just an innocent little boy let's be honest

He may look like he can kill you but he's just a cinnamon roll

Jokes about his blindness as a defence mechanism

Had a crush on both Sallow siblings at some point and I can't blame him

Saw a theory on tiktok that his patronus would be albino snake. CANON

Just wants to have a simple quiet life without any drama

Protective of his friends BUT is more protective of his boundaries

Don't mind his blindness he knows EXACTLY how to be a fashion icon

Another cliché: Omi can play piano

And it's the only thing his parents tought him that he loves. Playing helps him to calm down

Is very private, but as soon as he starts to trust you, he will immediately blurt out his life story, dreams, fears etc

Though he can't see an actual game, Omi likes to go on a quidditch game, because of the happy energy around him

Is sick most of the time for some reason. Cold, stomach ache or anything really

Also a nerd. But unlike Sebastian he's a fiction lover. Helps him to escape reality, especially in his family's house

Clingy with everyone he loves bc they make him feel safe

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #natty onai #headcanon

[empressofmankind]

On My Silent Days

I Miss You A Little Louder

[Crocodile x female!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 7k / 15 pages

A/N: Writing this has been my whole life the past 5 days, as anyone who has frequented my Dash recently can attest. I am obsessed with their chemistry.

Technically, this is part of 'The Show Must Go On'. You don't have to read it, but I recommend it. You'll get to know Shivs and her helter-skelter relationship with Buggy which sits as the background to this whole ordeal.

You see, this is like, Arabaste arch at the earliest - Cross Guild era more likely. By then, Shivs and Bugs have rollercoastered through so much bullshit and they've come out rock solid on the other side somehow. Clown keeps failing up, even with this relationship. Sir Crocodile finds the whole thing insulting, to say the least. And seems to think it is one well-placed remark away from utterly crumbling. Jealous ex, whomst? My dude, you fucked that up yourself. Repeatedly. You had more chances than you have fingers. Chemistry aside, this is absolutely a desert of his own making.

What else do you need to know? Shivs is only 2 or 3 years younger than Buggy (i.e. my age, come sue me), but Crocodile is 5 years older than the clown. So, she's in her mid 30s, he's in his mid 40s. She originally met him when he was maybe 28? Do the math. Oh yes, and for those less familiar with the Cross Guild era: our favourite clown has managed to accidentally become the lauded public face of what is actually Mihawk and Crocodile's venture. Understandably, the ex-warlords are a little miffed by this and spend decent amounts of time physically abusing poor Buggy.

Shivs' absolutely flawless plan is basically swapping sexual favours with her ex for get-out-of-jail-free cards for the clown.

My girl literally barging in here telling Croc: "I'll take ur cock if u leave my clown alone."

Yes. That's it. That's the plot.

She almost had him, too. Arguably, she had him the entire time. And then he gdamn snapped her from the pond edge like an unwitting gazelle in the last minute. Cuz we all - her included - forgot who we're dealing with for 14.5 pages straight. APPARENTLY.

screams into a pillow

Tag(s): Oh? Ok. Sexual favours! Is she fucking her boss? No, but he always makes it feel that way. Is she fucking her ex? Yes. Are they technically still married? Maybe. Blow jobs? Deep throat. Size kink? 100%. Filthy language. Graphic sex. Soft dom? Power bottom? I am on the fence. Little girl vibes on the margins, like, he tries. She too sassy and sooner a brat. Oh, orgasm denial! Big time. Humiliation? A little bit. Stretching? Yes. Moar size kink. Choking? Big yes. Spoiling? Also yes. She deserves nice things. Power imbalance? Yes. In whose direction? It kind of flip-flops. Did I need to spend so many words on their smoking and his cigars? Probably not, but it scratched an itch. With them, it counts as foreplay; I am sure. You know you're doing well when he takes the damn thing outta his mouth. World class banter, too. If I may say so myself. But really, the bottom line is that it's just oral and PIV dressed up real fancy.

ON MY SILENT DAYS 

I MISS YOU A LITTLE LOUDER

The double doors were as tall and foreboding as Shivs remembered. All bevelled hardwood and delicate gilding. She stood before them, gazing up. In the dead centre sat a brass knocker shaped like a bananawani's head, polished to a sheen. 

Knocking was for people with appointments, and waiting wasn't something she planned on doing here ever again. She put her palms against the cold, expensive wood and pushed the massive doors open as if breaking a siege. They swung on smooth hinges despite their weight and struck the marbled walls with resounding booms.

The opulent office beyond was exactly as she remembered. Marquina walls, fishbone parquet floors, blackwood furniture. The taxidermied juvenile bananawani set in the wall vitrine behind his desk was new. What had been there before? A map? A ship? No, a stone. An artefact of some kind riddled in curious glyphs.

Crocodile glanced up from his papers and the irritation flitting across his scarred face in the split second before he realised who'd dared barge in, set the hairs on the back of her neck on end. How often had she seen someone shrivel into a desiccated husk straight after that look?

Shivs held his pale gaze, set her jaw and strode into his office as if down the plank. 

The creak of leather as he leaned back in his seat. “You know I've killed people for less.”

She paused in front of his outrageous statement piece of a desk. She put her hands in the pockets of her baggy pants and forced her shoulders to unclench, her stance to relax. If Buggy’s dumb luck had managed to rub off on her in these past months, then now would be the time for it to start working for her.

“Lucky I am not ‘people’,” she said as she crossed her fingers in her pocket. 

Amusement squinted his eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched up behind his cigar. “No, you're not,” he said as he rose.

Shivs was not short. Not by any regular definition of the word. Buggy was only a head taller than her. She hadn't forgotten how tall Crocodile was, not really. And yet, as he came around his desk and towards her, there appeared to be no end to him as he approached. If she reached up, stretched her arm, she could nick his cigar. But only just.

"Do you still smoke?" he said as he stopped well within her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. He took a flat, brass case from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out to her. She remembered it. Remembered the exquisite taste of the narrow cigarillos in it.

"No."

"Liar." His gaze flicked down along his cigar at her. "You smell of cigarettes, doll."

"I have changed my ways."

Humour flitted under his gravelly voice. "For the worse." 

Shivs pursed her lips. "It's an expensive lifestyle when they don't come free with a goodnight kiss."

"Hah." 

The bark of laughter actually reached his eyes, crinkling their crow's feet for a moment. He held out the case to her again. "You poor thing. I do support charities, you know."

She took it this time and flipped it open. The rich waft of tobacco and sweet Goji berries greeted her as if no time had passed at all. Might as well enjoy her sojourn back to hell while she could.

She put one of the thin cigarillos between her lips and let him light it. Watched the firelight catch and reflect in his rings. Took a moment to savour the blend, rich and sweet as polished Beli.

They were very good.

Always had been.

Shivs took the cigarillo from between her lips and blew the smoke up in rings through a slow smile. They almost reached him.

Crocodile leaned down through the cloudy hoops to pluck the shoulder of her red-and-white striped sweater between thumb and index finger, a judgemental 'hmph' escaping around his cigar.

She enjoyed the expensive smoke and his fascination while it lasted. Maybe, just maybe, this would be enough? Letting him treat her like a doll badly in need of a better dress up? He liked to spoil, always had. Now, more than ever, he had the means to take it to completely nonsensical levels. Her ego could take it, if that was the price of leaving Bugs alone.

Shivs indicated his everything with an up and down wave of her free hand. "No way to afford the good stuff on a waiter's salary."

He let go of the fabric to brush his thumb across the smear of grease paint near the collar, staining his skin and the gold of his ring red.

"Or a dud's haul." 

He hooked the silk kerchief from his vest's breast pocket and wiped his hand. She followed the length of his arm up to his face.

"The entertainment isn't half bad."

“Yes.” He chewed the butt of his cigar, derision twitching his thin lips as he tucked the kerchief into an inside pocket of his coat. “His pathetic antics can be mildly amusing.”

Shivs’ grip on the cigarillo tightened, but she smiled pleasantly. “I like it when a man can make me laugh,” she said, pointing at him with the thin smoke between her fingers. “Even if at his own expense.”

She frowned at his broad back when he turned away from her without a witty reply, retreating to the button tufted camelback near them.

“You're not here for a social call,” Crocodile stated as he sat down, putting his arms along the sofa's curved back. Something flitted past his pale eyes, but it was gone so fast Shivs couldn't nail it. “What do you want, doll?” 

Shivs rolled back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips as if preparing to drive a hard bargain. She intended to seem casual, unconcerned. But her palms were slick with sweat and her heartbeat drummed in her ears. She filled her mouth with smoke, tasting the rich flavours. Savouring them before blowing it out in small puffs through her pursed lips.

"I want you to leave him be," she said, extinguishing the cigarillo in his ashtray.

Crocodile shifted and put his shin across his knee. Her gaze flicked down and she saw him take note. 

"And if I do?"

She held his gaze. One breath, two breaths, moved her jaw but didn't form the words. She wanted him to leave Buggy alone. Even if that meant taking his… beating, instead.

He blew out smoke through his nose, waiting patiently for her answer. The hint of a smile lingered as his pale eyes held hers from above the waterline of his scar. And in that moment, he reminded her so strongly of a lurking crocodile. Watching. Waiting. Biding its time to strike. It sent a shiver down her spine, and not entirely out of fear.

Shivs pursed her lips, steeled her emotions, checked her resolve. I'll do it for you, Bugs. It's a deal I know he won't refuse.

She met his intense gaze head on, then dropped hers slowly to his crotch once more. Allowed it to linger there, before looking back up.

He chewed the butt of his cigar and beckoned her. "You never could fit all of me down that skilled throat of yours." 

Shivs watched him uncross his legs as she approached. She trailed her fingertips along his clothed thighs before leaning on them. It brought her face level with his and she deliberately took a moment to breathe in his secondhand smoke. 

“Want to judge if that hasn't changed for the worse?” she whispered against his lips as she savoured the distinct flavours that made up his private blend. 

Strong muscles flexed and relaxed under her palms, and she presumed that to mean ‘yes’. 

She ran her hands down his muscular thighs, taking in their shape until her palms rested on his knees. His breathing changed, she could tell from the way he exhaled smoke. Denser palls, deeper breaths. No resistance as she pushed his knees apart far enough to kneel between them.

Brushing her fingertips across his overstated belt buckle, she smiled to herself. Some things never changed. She slipped the tooled tip through the frame, her movements slow and deliberate as she listened for the subtle shifts in his breathing. She loosened the prong with a sharp tug on the strap, using more force than was strictly necessary. An undercurrent of need laced the grunt that escaped him in response. 

Shivs reached into his pants with both hands, catching his gaze as she drew his penis out, feeling it swell against her palms. She made a noise of appreciation as she let her hands slide down his shaft. His pale eyes hunting after hers when she broke their gaze to look at her fingers fitting around the base. She had not forgotten how tall this part of him was.

Leaning forward, she trailed teasing kisses from halfway down his shaft towards the tip. I’ve swallowed swords longer than this, and dicks aren’t even sharp, she thought as she flicked her tongue past the rim, playful-like. Length was only half the problem though, she knew that perfectly well.

She put a hand on his thigh and leaned on it as she ran the flat of her tongue across the head and took him into her mouth, suckling the tip. Inched his cock further with deliberately slow, short bobs, tilting her head to ensure he’d catch every movement of her lips as they worked around him. Need strained his stoic expression when she stole a glance up. A twitch of his eyebrows when the tip bumped against the back of her mouth. She sucked down and drew his cock back out, watched it twitch and his grip tighten on the backrest as she felt his thigh flex under her palm.

She took him into her mouth again and ran the tip of her tongue along the underside of his cock. Relaxed her neck and let it slip further than before, teasing at the entrance to her throat. Nudging it, stretching it just a bit before sucking down and drawing him back out, tasting precum for her efforts.

The frustrated groan that rumbled up from somewhere deep within his broad chest sent sparks flying down her spine. This is gonna work, she thought as he reached for her head, petted her hair while she teased the precum from him with fleet, wet kisses.

“Stop messing around and swallow my cock, sweetheart,” Crocodile grunted, pale eyes alight with hunger. The petting stopped, fingers tangling into the hair at the back of her neck instead. It was like the twitch on the line that told a fisherman to react.

Shivs glanced up along his hard shaft, and reeled him in: 

“Yes, Sir.”

The horny groan that drew from him, before she’d even begun to take him again, settled comfortably in her bones. Gotcha, she thought.

Shivs breathed slow, deep, steady breaths as she slid his cock along her tongue, lining him up. The head pushed past the entrance of her throat and she switched to shallow breaths through her nose. The grunts and huffs that escaped him every time she swallowed were inhuman and she needed more of it.

She slid his cock further down, felt his thighs tremble as she did. The closer she got, the more his musk pervaded every stifled breath she managed around his thick cock. It was a heavy, heady scent and she shifted her position to press her thighs together. He didn’t notice.

She stroked his legs, ran her hands up to his hips as she leaned closer, and took him deeper still. His fingers were fisted painfully tight into her hair, but his large hand followed her without force or resistance, resting heavily against the back of her neck.

Almost. 

Almost there.

And then the tip of her nose bumped against his flat stomach. She could hardly smirk with his dick this far down her throat but counted on the crinkle of her eyes to work for her as she caught his gaze and slowly raised her hands, palms up. She didn’t care that they trembled. 

Look. No hands, motherfucker.

Crocodile grinned down at her through a huff of smoke, cigar dangling between his teeth. She thought it looked a little worse for wear.

“The pathetic clown doesn’t know what a dirty little slut you are, does he?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice thick with lust as he petted the back of her neck. “Giving such sweet head to save his sorry hide.” He ran his fingers along her throat as if trying to feel how far down his cock had gone. “I always knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“Now,” he added as he huffed out a pall of smoke and she felt cool metal sliding around the back of her neck, barring a retreat. “I need my cock-hungry doll to make me feel good.”

Shivs dropped her hands to his hips, gripping the folds of hard muscle there for support. She slid her tongue between her bottom lip and the underside of his cock, making sloppy little noises with the slightest bob of her head. Even those small movements pressed the round curve of his hook into the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine that made her squeeze her thighs together. She didn’t bother to try and hide it.

His large hand joined his hook, strong fingers digging into the back of her head, twisting into the hair there and holding her put as his thick cock twitched so far down her throat she didn’t even know anymore where precisely she felt it. She worked her throat around him, drawing rumbling moans from him that pitched.

“Ah -nngh- you feel so good, doll. So. Damn perfect.” His thighs tensed under her arms, flexing his hips with short jerks. She closed her eyes as she swallowed around him, frowning with effort. His breathy grunts as he lightly fucked her throat made her pussy throb.

Suddenly, his grip tightened like a vice and he shoved her nose-first against his hard, trembling stomach muscles, stealing her breath. Her eyes flew open as her throat strained and cramped, swallowing around him in reflex.

 “Fuck, honey. Ah---! Yes, yes.” The satisfied, drawn-out moan as Crocodile spilled his hot cum down her throat reverberated through the quiet office. 

Her fingers dug around his hips, tears jumping into her eyes as she gagged, feeling cum come up around his cock as stars danced into her vision. His grip weakened as he rode out his orgasm and she pulled back before he was quite done pumping cum. Shivs swallowed it mindlessly while coming up for air. His dick slid wetly out of her throat and mouth, streaks of cum connecting them before they broke.

She glanced up from his softening cock, glistening with her saliva all the way to the hilt. He’d tilted his head back, held his cigar nowhere near his mouth as he came down from his orgasm with deep, steadying breaths that expanded his wide chest and flared his nostrils.

He straightened with a lazy groan and a roll of his broad shoulders. 

Shivs met his gaze, panting.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” Crocodile said, his gravelly voice breathy as he reached for her, stroking her cheek with his thumb. The gold of his ring was smooth where his fingertip felt rough, the warm touch grounding her fried senses. It lingered at her eyepatch, lightly brushing the faded leather. “The things we let people do to our faces…”

He hooked the kerchief from his pocket and dabbed her mouth. She reached for his hand with both of hers, touching the back of it, taking the cloth. She watched him watch her as she cleaned her face.

“Don’t you have a new pretty thing? Miss Face-of-the-Casino in her cute kimono?” Shivs forced her tone to be casual, edged with light mockery, maybe. It was stupid that it’d stung when she’d seen the younger woman. An irrational, petty feeling. An old pain. And, none of her business, at any rate.

The dismissive look that flitted past his pale eyes was rather unexpected. “An investment, nothing more.”

“She’s pretty,” Shivs said. Perhaps, part of the sting had been the fact that Miss Pretty had not responded to her the way women did when they were into other women.

Crocodile looked at his cigar before putting it back in his mouth. “That she is.”

Their gazes crossed and she pursed her lips. He reached for her jaw, fingertips grazing its curve. Then leaned down and pressed a peck against her frown. She sat up and chased after him as he took another draw from his cigar, stole the aromatic smoke from him as she teased her tongue into his mouth. He blew it out through his nose, taking the cigar from his mouth as he caught the back of her neck with his hook and took control of the kiss.

“You can have one if you like, sweetheart,” he said when they broke apart, indicating his cigar. 

And lord, if she wasn't tempted.

“You share ‘em these days?”

His derisive ‘hmph’ made her smirk as she rose to her feet. 

“What about Miss Pretty? She enjoy your… cigars?” Shivs said, and noticed she’d gotten his cum all over Buggy’s sweater. Shit.

Crocodile glanced at her, pale eyes searching. “I prefer making deals with those who have something of value to offer, doll.”

Shivs put her hands in her pockets and rocked up on the balls of her feet with a mildly overacted grin. “Oh, it’s a deal then? You’ll play nice?”

“My compliance doesn’t come that cheap,” he said through a huff of smoke.

She crooked an eyebrow, risking a hint of ridicule in her tone. “Cheap? And here I was, thinking I have a unique skill up for offer.”

He actually cracked a smile as he flicked the butt of his cigar into the general direction of his desk and ashtray. Then beckoned her with hook and hand. 

“Come here, doll.”

It would have been too easy.

She sauntered back to him and linked her fingers with his, curling the others around his hook, letting him draw her into his lap, straddling his thighs. He shifted so his cock was between them, pressing against her clothed cunt.

“What else will it cost me?” she said as she rested her hands on his shoulders, lightly riding against him. Every rub along his dick pulsed pleasure up her spine, and she hadn’t failed to notice it was already stiffening again.

He stoked the tip of his hook along her cheek as his large hand took in the shape of her firm butt, guiding her movement. “I want to know if your tight pussy can take all of me now, too.”

“Here, on a couch?” she said as she slipped her fingertips under his coat and pushed it off his shoulders. She trailed her hands down the revers of his vest, grabbed hold of them as she dry humped against him. “I thought you said you weren’t cheap?”

The bark of laughter that drew from him shouldn’t make her smile the way it did.

He pressed a kiss against it. 

“I wouldn’t dare, honey,” Crocodile said as he gathered her up in his arms and rose smoothly from the couch, leaving his coat behind. He strode across his study and through the adjacent library to the expansive bedroom beyond. She remembered the sweeping view from its curving window wall and the sea of nightlights twinkling far below.

Instead of depositing her on his spacious bed, he set her down on the plush rug beside it. And motioned up and down her clothes with a dismissive gesture. “Take those rags off.”

Not my rags, Shivs thought as she kicked her boots aside, removed her baggy pants and grabbed the edge of the sweater. She didn’t wear a bra. She didn’t like them, and she hadn’t bothered wearing one this evening either.

Fingertips traced the lacy sides of her underwear while she had the sweater pulled over her head.

“You still have those.”

He sounded…not surprised. Curious, maybe?

“No reason to get rid of perfectly fine underwear,” she said as she freed herself from the sweater, finding he’d already undressed.

“They can stay on,” he said as she folded the sweater, her hand lingering on it before she turned to him.

“For now?”

A smile twitched the corner of his lips. 

“Here, doll.” He held something out to her, cream-coloured and neatly folded. It seemed small and delicate in his large hand.

When she took it, the fabric cascaded into a surprisingly classy, mid-thigh negligee of shimmering silk. The top was constructed from intricately detailed lace with tiny bananawani worked into the pattern.

“Pretty,” she said as she brushed a finger across the delicate lace. She put it on and it fit her so neatly it felt like a second skin. An outrageously luxurious second skin for the silk felt soft as sin and the lace light as air. She turned a full circle on her tiptoe, overacting it just a little. She knew he liked that.

“Looks good on you.” He reached for her head, combing his fingers through her tangled red hair, tucking stray bangs behind the strip of her eyepatch. “I’d never let you get so grimy.”

“Can’t be a dirty little slut if you wash me.”

“Hah.” Crocodile leaned down and scooped her up into his arms, just like that. “Come here before I shove my cock down your throat again to shut you up.”

“Don’t tempt me- ah!”

Her reply cut off when he suddenly let go, dropping her into his bed. And that was quite the distance, even if the landing was soft. He immediately climbed on top of her, caging her with his much larger body. She spread her legs, accommodating his wider hips as he reached for her breast. His thumb traced circles around her nipple through the fine lace, stiffening at his touch.

“Like what you see?”

“Always have, doll,” he rumbled against her collarbone. Though no longer smoking, she could still smell it on him. Would be able to pick it out of a crowd. Subtle tones that reminded her of burnt coffee, dry glass and cinnamon, mingling with the faint wax smell of his hair gel and heavier citric notes of his cologne.

A small gasp escaped her when he brushed the lace down and kissed her hard nipple, taking it into his mouth and licking the sensitive tip. She felt the curve of his hook press against her hip, hitching up the silk as his hand slipped between her thighs. Strong, confident fingers pressed against the fabric of her panties and outer labia underneath. It ignited old desires, flickering life into fires she’d thought snuffed out.

His rough fingers traced the delicate lace, undulating with its curling, stylised waves. Her breath caught when they found the edge along the crease of her thigh. A mewl on her lips as he dipped them under the smooth fabric, fingertips grazing the warm, sensitive skin of her outer labia and sending sparkles of anticipation up her spine. The delicate fabric stretched with an alarming whimper from the seams as strong digits brushed between her folds, not quite able to reach. He grunted against her breast at the soaked pussy he found there.

She felt him slip the hook under the edge, warm from resting against her hip. The thought of him pulling her panties down with it lit up every nerve in the vague vicinity of her hips. Her eyes snapped open at the sharp jerk, the sudden cry of fabric tearing at the seam between silk and lace. 

Shivs made a noise, nose wrinkling. Those were the nicest-.

“I’ll get you new ones,” Crocodile promised against the curve of her breast, his gaze down as he hooked the fabric from her hips. The hunger in his pale eyes as he looked at her pussy made her spread her legs further. He leaned down to caress her labia and press a light kiss against them that made her throb, thinking about his tongue.

A breathy huff escaped Shivs when he slid his middle finger between her folds instead, running slow circles around her inner labia. Gathering the moisture there before teasing them apart and brushing across her clenching entrance. Pleasure sizzled up her spine when he pressed it inside, mapping her inner walls and finding all the right places far too easily. If he kept this up, she was going to come very soon.

He switched to her other breast, teasing the sensitive skin as he inserted a second finger. “I seem to remember you liked getting your little hole stretched,” he rumbled against her nipple, and spread his large fingers apart. She moaned at the strength in them, the ease with which they pried her open. It sent twinges of sweet, sweet pressure blazing through the haze of need fogging her thoughts.

She reached down to his hand, stroke the back of it. Found his thumb and guided it against her clit with a needy moan. Her thighs trembled as he massaged it firmly, pushed his fingers all the way in, then spread them as he pulled out. She felt his knuckles and the hard edges of his rings press into her labia when he pushed them back in but she didn’t mind, kind of liked it. She reached a hand for his shoulder, neck, grabbing hold of the tout muscle there as she arched her back towards him. His pace was torturously slow and she was loving it.

Shivs let out a drawn out whine when he stopped, pulled at his neck, wrist, knowing perfectly well neither will give an inch but trying, anyway. She tried to clench her thighs, rub them together, nurse the need smouldering in her veins, but his knees were between hers and she writhed in vain.

Crocodile shifted unto his elbow, bunching the silk further up her hips while taking his hard dick in hand. A hoarse whisper close to her ear as he guided the head against her slick pussy: “Won’t you beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“I need to feel your cock in me,” Shivs said as she caught his hungry gaze. “Feel it fill me, stretch me.”

He grunted with barely contained need, she could see it in the straining of his back as she reached for his thick neck, folding her hands behind it. Felt it in the way his hips twitched as he pressed his shaft through her wet folds, coating it with her juices.

“Am I not a good girl, sir?”

“Yes, you are.”

Shivs moaned loudly when he entered her. Whined at the delicious pressure as he pushed deeper into her soaking wet pussy, stretching her around him. She clung to his neck, mewling with incoherent need. Her hand went to his hair, messing it up but not caring. Neither did he.

“Ah -ngh- fuck,” Crocodile grunted, his breath hot against her neck.

Shivs held onto him for dear life as she arched against his hard body, savoured the sharp pleasure of him stretching her cramping, soaking cunt wide enough to plough through. He’d not bottomed out yet. If she could take him, she’d have him wrapped around her finger.

“You’re. Fuck. As tight. As I remember. Sweetheart,” Crocodile groaned into her neck, his gravelly voice strained to the point of being near unintelligible. It was getting tougher and tougher to push further through her tight, contracting walls.

“Almost there,” Shivs whispered as she brushed a stray bang of dark hair from his eyes.

The noise he made in response was inhuman and she drank it in as she closed her eyes, spread her legs further to accommodate his hips and relaxed every muscle she could still feel. A whimper bubbled from her lips when he pushed up against something deep within her that twitched a pleasure so sharp up her spine it sat right next to pain. 

“Fuck, yes,” he ground out as his hips pressed flush against hers, his breath hot, heavy pants buffeting against the crook of her neck. “Feels. So good.”

He managed to push himself up onto his elbow, satisfaction animating his whole face as he looked at their joined hips, her soft labia squashed against his pubes. Shivs whimpered, his movement nudging tight bursts of pleasure deep within her. 

“I knew you could do it, doll.” His tone was thick with lust, laboured from his heavy breathing. He gently brushed a strand of sweat-slick red hair from her forehead with his hook, looking so proud. “You like getting your little cunt stuffed, don’t you?"

Shivs gave a sharp nod, struggling to form words.

“I know you do, honey,” he whispered as he rolled his hips against hers, not truly thrusting. She reached for his face with trembling hands, stroking his hard jaw. He grunted under his breath with each push and she pressed pecks against the puffs of hot breath until he responded. Until he chased her tongue back into her own mouth and pressed her head back into the pillow with the desperate force of his kiss, demanding entrance with his tongue that she was more than willing to give. 

“That's all you g-got?” she whispered through a moan and a bated breath when they broke their kiss for want of air. “I b-barely feel it.”

“Ah? You want more, doll?” Crocodile pulled out with a grunt, just a fraction, before shoving himself back inside her to the hilt, making her mewl with pleasure through clenched teeth as his cock bottomed out and up against her cervix. “Shall I take you back to my study? Pound you bend over my desk, like I used to?”

Shivs whined into his mouth as she latched onto him again, arms tightening around his thick neck as her cunt squeezed around his cock from the pleasure coiling around her spine. If he took her from behind, he could probably push deeper still. Oh, she’d be in trouble.

“Who’s cheap now, hrm?” A breathy hum into her ear as the obscene slap of his hips against hers filled his bedroom. She whined in need, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain making her tremble against him. “Do you want to be my little whore again? My pretty fuck slut to sit on my cock whenever and wherever I want?”

All she could do was whine and roll her hips to meet his steady thrusts. Fingers digging into the taut muscles across his shoulders, keeping him close as he fucked her deeper than she’d ever felt a man, even him. She whimpered, the heady mix of mind numbing pleasure laced with an edge of pain all but overwhelming her. Especially when he thrust just right, shoving his cock against a sensitive spot so deep inside her she didn’t even know she had it.

“I missed my. Pretty cocksleeve,” Crocodile grunted into her ear. “The. Only. Little slut that can take me -hng- properly.”

“Fuck me harder,” Shivs whispered, hands massaging his broad shoulders. He groaned with effort, she could feel the bridled strength in the muscles working under her palms. His pace picked up, and so did the strain in his body. Every thrust stretched her so deliciously, stimulating every needy nerve inside of her. 

“Do it,” she moaned wantonly as his thrusts started to push her up on the bed, her weight no match against his strength. “I c-can take it.”

“Ah - hng- you’re. Going to. Make me cum, doll,” he growled through clenched teeth. He grabbed her shoulder, holding her in place as he jerked his thrusts up against her. Her mind was unravelling. The only thing she could think about was his cock filling her, burning up every single nerve she had as needy pleasure coiled in her belly. She wanted him to cum. She really did.

When he paused, she struggled to comprehend why. Her gaze found his. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his mouth slack to accommodate the deep breaths heaving his chest. He was barely holding still, strain thrumming through every inch of his large frame above her.

“Does. My pretty little thing want. Cum as deep in her tight pussy. As her pretty throat?”

She whined, pulled at his neck with both hands. “Y-yes.”

“Beg. For it.”

“P-please,” she whimpered as she tried to make him move, weakly rolled her hips towards him. 

“Please what?”

“Please, s-sir.”

The noise he uttered in response to that settled somewhere at the primal base of her brain. She wanted, no, needed, to hear it again.

“Please, sir. Pound my needy hole like I deserve,” she mewled into his ear, savouring the way his breath hitched, that noise came again. 

“Damnit, doll,” Crocodile grunted through clenched teeth as he picked up a pace that became quickly rougher, slightly erratic. He locked his hold on her shoulder, broad fingers digging around her thin muscles and narrow bones, keeping her put as he pounded into her soaking, cramping cunt. “Gonna fuck you so full, you'll be leaking my cum well into tomorrow.”

“Please, please, pleaaasse,” she whined and clenched around him as he fucked her into the sinfully soft matrass with long, deep strokes that shoved his cock shamelessly up against her cervix to fit it all in. She wanted, needed, to cum around it, desperate for release. “Fuck me full of cum, sir. Stuff my tight cunny like you did my slutty mouth.”

“I -ngh- will, honey. I am,” he ground out, barely intelligible as his pace lost all semblance of rhythm and he bucked against her in the grip of his orgasm’s first throes.

“Oh! Yes, yes,” she moaned as he shoved his throbbing cock as far as she could take it, cumming against the deepest corner of her cunt as she shuddered around his cock with unfulfilled need. He stayed buried inside her as he came down, breath erratic before steadying, slowing. She whimpered in need, clenching around his softening cock. She hadn’t been able to cum around it like she wanted. It was too thick to cramp enough for a proper orgasm. She knew that, but had thought maybe this time…

He knew it, too. Remembered it.

“You’re still my pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he said as he caressed her cheek, ran his thumb across her parted lips. “Unable to cum around a cock like a big girl.”

She made a small noise that he swallowed in a kiss.

They stayed that way until her breathing steadied as well. Then he sat up and gathered her into his lap. She held onto him, her cheek against his collarbone. Not quite ready yet to let go.

“You look parched, doll,” Crocodile said as he brushed a bang from her eyes.

Shivs peered up at him. “I would not say ‘no’ to a sweet white.”

A noise escaped him that could have been a fond one as he lifted her off his lap and rose. The sound of his retreating footsteps filled the quiet. He’d gone to his study, judging by the distance. Shivs got up as well and shimmied the negligee down. Despite everything, she did not feel like taking it off. It felt nice against her flushed skin.

She sauntered to the curved window wall and found the view precisely as she remembered it. A sea of nightlights twinkled across the city below, mirroring the deep blue, star-speckled sky above. The moon hung low, waning from view. It wasn’t long before he returned. She heard him uncork a bottle behind her and fill two glasses. The snap and swoosh of his lighter. The familiar scent of his cigar preceding him as he came to stand beside her, still naked.

He held a glass out to her, a cigarillo clamped against its curve. The wine was a deep bronze instead of the pale yellow usual to white wines. She accepted the glass and smoke, gaze lingering on the narrow slot through its delicate stem. It allowed him to hold them with his hook without slipping. She glanced sideways and up at him. A fond smile twitched her lips when she noticed his hair was neater than before. He’d evidently taken a comb to it for a hot second.

Shivs put the cigarillo in her mouth and turned to find his lighter lying on the nightstand beside the wine bottle, and a corkscrew with its split cork still attached. She glanced at the label as she lit the cigarillo. It read ‘1811’ in large, proud capitals, and a name in a curving script she couldn’t be bothered to try and decipher. She would not be able to afford it, anyway.

Taking a sip, she returned to his side. The wine was sweet, indeed. With hints of lime, honey, saffron. She made herself comfortable against him, her bum resting on his thigh. “It’s a nice view,” she said as she blew out a thin pall of smoke.

He glanced down at her and their gazes crossed as he idly stroked her hip. “It is.”

Shivs leaned into his touch, sipping the wine. It really was, very good.

“Clever scheme you’ve gotten up to, in order to save the loser’s sorry hide,” Crocodile remarked as he blew a smoke ring against the narrow cloud she’d just produced. “But it has a flaw.”

Shivs let her weight shift from his thigh to his loin, only the soft silk between them. “You sure?”

A self-satisfied smile twitched behind his cigar as he gave her hip a squeeze. “None of this will work on Dracule.”

Only because I don’t have a penis, she thought, but no matter. They may have both grown older, but Croki was still fundamentally the same man she’d left years ago. And that would work for her, she was sure of it. Inevitably, Mihawk would pick on Bugs. She would take it upon herself to get irritatingly upset about it. Mihawk would no doubt insult her next, and Sir Self-Satisified here would take it personally by-proxy and shut him up. It’d be a win.

“I’ll think of something,” Shivs said as she blew a thin pall through his smoke ring, dispersing it.

He glanced at her, amused. “He’s partial to good wine, at least.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

She nipped her own wine, idly rubbing her thighs together. Pleasure skulked around the base of her spine, denied but not forgotten. She made a little noise against her glass when she felt his hand move up her thigh, his thumb brush under the edge of the negligee.

“Still needy?” he said as he bunched up the fine silk, rubbing his middle and ring finger against her clit in slow circles. It sent lazy sparks of pleasure straight to her brain. Drawing a shuddering whimper from her as he dipped his middle finger between her folds.

“Cum for me, honey,” Crocodile rumbled as he lightly ran the tip of his finger along the inner rim of her vagina, then teased the sensitive spot further down. Shivs gasped through her moan as the briefest shudder of an orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. It was not enough, not nearly enough.

“N-need more,” she said as she put the glass down with a wobble. Reached for his large hand when he stopped, withdrew, tugging it back. Bunching two of his fingers together, of a mind to stick them into herself if he didn't.

“Come to our board meeting tomorrow. You’ll come sit with me and I’ll take good care of your needy little hole.” He shook her fussy touch and caught her pubes, massaging his palm firmly against her soft cunt, pressing her bum against his cock. “You can ride my palm like you used to, and I’ll make you cum on my fingers till your tight pussy is sore from cramping around them.”

Shivs wasn’t particularly keen on doing any of this semi-publically, least of all anywhere Bugs would be. Though she feared she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of this, as easily as she’d talked herself into it.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll leave the pathetic clown alone,” Crocodile promised as he stroked her flat belly with the rounding of his hook. “Can’t beat the loser if my hand is occupied with something sweeter, hm?”

Shit. She had to tell Bugs. Forewarned, forearmed, and all that. She turned in his hold, his hand moving to her butt instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said, but he caught her wrist when she took a step back.

“Ah, ah,” he admonished as he stopped her, pulled her with him, back into bed. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“I, what? Why?” 

Suddenly, she wanted to leave as he gathered her against him, nestling her into his lap and chest, spooning his large body around her like a cage. She wanted to leave, wanted to go to Buggy and cry when he guided his cock back inside her still moist pussy with an incriminating noise and a satisfied rumble. She’d meant to turn this trick and tell Buggy about it. Tell him her plan to manipulate the ex-warlord to leave him alone, to leave them alone. Tell him it had worked. 

Shivs pushed herself on her elbow but Crocodile pulled her back down to him.

“Stay,” he said as he hooked the fluffy underblanket and silk cover sheets about them, his arm around her waist, hand on her hip.

“Why.” She had to tell Buggy, but now she couldn’t. She’d left after they’d gone to bed. She hadn’t told him yet. He didn’t know. He’d wake up alone.

Crocodile stroked the midline of her belly with the tip of his hook, rippling the cream-coloured silk as it moved up her chest, counting to the fifth rib. The one behind which her heart sat.

“Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

A quiet sob escaped her.

"Ssh, sleep, honey," Crocodile whispered into her hair, fingertips stroking her hip. “I’ll take good care of you tomorrow.”

~

Honourary mention tags: @smut-goblin , @ruledbyproblematique , @gingernut1314 , @swirlsofblackandwhite

(N/A): To anyone reading & making it to the end. Writing this has consumed me the past days. I want to know what you think! What did you like? What made you laugh? Was there something specific you noticed? Something you now wonder about? I am 100% open to lengthy comments and blow by blows, ngl. I am obsessed with this.

If you want for more, I jotted down some of my own thoughts regarding this debacle. I may also be plotting another stint. Because Impel Down, do you understand me??

#sir crocodile #one piece crocodile #crocodile x oc #op crocodile #cross guild #KINDA #crocodile x reader #crocodile fanfic #one piece fanfic #one piece smut #opla #op smut #crocodile one piece #smut #one piece #one piece live action #one piece anime #one piece manga #imperial fiction #buggy thoughts #imperial shenanigans #crocaine #crocodile x shivs

[colourstreakgryffin]

Random Hashira Post #2

Was listening to a horror YouTube channel so let’s do more headcanons of the Hashira! This time, it’s headcanons when playing horror games!

The Hashira

- Obanai’s back is the single wall from safety and complete utter horror

- They(being everybody except Muichiro and Giyuu) all are scampering to leave the room by the end as a very frustrated Obanai is trying to exit the game

- About 80% of the Hashira are scared out of their minds of horror games in all honesty. So, the horror game night never ends right

- “Oh my fucking god, this is not even creepy, this is the worst—“ “Iguro, turn it off!” “This is so unfair! All those poor defenceless animals! How dare that monster hurt them!” “Namu Amida Butsu…” “Obanai, please! Turn it off! Turn it off! It’s so scary!” “Why is everybody so attached to this? None of it is real” “Let’s play another, Iguro! I got a great idea!” “Bring it on, demon! Your ugly ass face isn’t shit!”

Kyojuro Rengoku

- Has the gut to address and wave at the creepy characters though, he is very nervous. The tension is evident in his voice

- He is able to handle horror a bit better then most of his fellow Hashira but eventually, he needs to turn away and rub his eyes to shake off the picture stamped into his head

- Kyojuro compliments the artwork of the game and praises the game’s creator at the end as he believes all small creators deserve to have their work appreciated, even if the said work scared him out of his mind

- Wants to play the game but he feels immense guilt over leading the cute characters to their deaths and loses his shit over fourth-wall breaking. He must only watch or you’ll risk a really upset Kyojuro reluctantly playing

Tengen Uzui

- Calls whatever Hashira(mainly the dudes) a pussy for looking away but screams outloud at the scares he wasn’t suspecting. Hypocrite much

- Horror games don’t phase Tengen, he proclaims but he is on edge and clutching his chair halfway through the game. He denies his fear by pretending he was cold/hungry/other

- Jealous AF of Obanai’s fearlessness and tries to one-up him, just to fail and bolt out of his skin from the sudden creepy still-frame

- These horror games are so unflashy, Tengen hisses under his breath in salt as he has to blink several times to get that one creepy-ass scene out of his head but it doesn’t go away

- He may or may not gain a temporary but horrible fear of the dark after this event and require his wives to accompany him everywhere

Mitsuri Kanroji

- T E R R I F I E D

- Screams at every little noise the game makes and is constantly hiding her face in Obanai’s lap on the verge of tears. She can’t handle watching nor hearing horror games

- Mitsuri is actually shaking, help her

- Has nightmares of the creepy characters she sees for weeks on end and honestly, she calls Obanai in the middle of the night crying and begging for him to sleep with her

- She wants to be brave for her friends and watch the gameplay with them but she can’t take it. So, she is the first Hashira to admit defeat and hide away

- Mitsuri is that one friend that complains and whines about how the game shouldn’t be scary and why it couldn’t be a non-scary game

Gyomei Himejima

- Even though, he can’t see the terrifying characters. He still flinches at the intense noises, the loud screams, the responses of his friends

- He can literally sense the terror of his fellow Hashira so he feels as scared as them and wishes to coax them to calm them down

- Like Kyojuro, he feels very strongly for the characters supposedly getting killed in the horrific world and asks Obanai to shut the game down to save the poor characters

- He is usually just kinda there for emotional support most of the time(being helping to calm down the horrified Mitsuri) but still responds in fear to the scares as well. The screamers rock his world everytime

- The screams do get to him and he thinks about them at night afterwards sometimes. Even if they weren’t real, the sound of pained screaming hurts him

Muichiro Tokito

- Is always spaced out so horror and the sights of horror games just fly over his head. That doesn’t mean he didn’t find the characters creepy, it just doesn’t bother him as much as it bothers his fellow Hashira

- Why do the little animals have to get mangled like that? Muichiro is more curious over the details and the few Easter eggs of the horror game then the actual game itself

- Can be insensitive to the other Hashira’s fear since his own fear is very minuscule, it almost never shows up as he asks why they can’t handle the gameplay

- Weirdly takes a bit too long to jump at the scares as if his brain is skipping over like a buffering screen

Obanai Iguro

- Bow down. Obanai is the literal king of horror

- He is the only Hashira that doesn’t have a single ounce of fear on horror game night so he’s always the one playing. Even Gyomei flinches but Obanai doesn’t

- No jumpscare nor fourth-wall breaking nor creepy character/picture can scare him as he just makes sarcastic remarks, much to the dismay of his fellow Hashira

- He honestly got ALL the fear one could possibly experience out during his childhood so nothing can scare him now

- Finds horror games amusing more than anything yet, he’ll stop playing to help Mitsuri get through jumpscare aftershock

- Obanai fucking LAUGHS at the horror games. He also makes a lot of snarky remarks and sometimes gets frustrated at how long the game stretches out it’s scare.

- By the end of the game, everybody is cowering under the table or behind Obanai. He is use to playing the game by himself

- Tengen is still trying to scare him with other horror game suggestions, it’s not working

Shinobu Kocho

- God, she straight-up hates horror games and can’t stand them. Not because their so scary but because their too loud!

- But yes, she also hates how creepy the drawings of the characters are and shields her eyes when she deems necessary

- Ew, all the blood gross her out but the sight of dead bodies shakes her to her core that she clings to the closest Hashira to her(that is usually Mitsuri)

- Hides behind Obanai when the game shifts to horror in a instant and eventually yells at him to get out of the game for the creepy still-frame that takes minutes too long to change over

Giyuu Tomioka

- He could give less of a fuck so he isn’t really watching the gameplay. He is just kinda there

- But when he is forced to, he just shrugs off the scares and/or the creepy pieces. Yeah, they made him jump and struck a cord but he doesn’t respond like his fellow Hashira do

- The Hashira believe Giyuu is like Obanai, that he doesn’t find the games scary but he does. He just won’t admit it, as he sees no need to harp on being scared of fake animated things

- Giyuu plays for Obanai when he has a quick nicknack to do and makes zero comments, other than confusion towards the dead creatures or annoyance over the bad controls

- Why do people always change cute harmless characters creepy? Giyuu doesn’t like that part when it comes to horror games. Like, what did Kirby do to deserve this treatment? He feels a sense of justice for the fake horror variations of fake characters

Sanemi Shinazugawa

- Horror games can kiss his ass, Sanemi likes to believe he isn’t afraid of horror games at all and for most of them, he isn’t

- Very specific ones gets under his skin and create goosebumps. They are usually ones that deal with real-life heavy subjects(such as Among the Sleep)

- Sanemi’s taste in horror is a clearly a bit more precise. He won’t bat a eye at the typical Exe./demon games but anything in the real-life problem category, haunts him at night

- Finds horror games a bit stereotypical and can predict what will happen. He eventually gets bored with how Exe./demon games are basically the same

- Looks out for new Horror games to watch Obanai play for the Hashira as he is interested to see what else is out there. He challenges himself with horror, he wants to know his limit

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #anime and manga #kny hashira #kny imagines #headcanons #iguro obanai #obanai iguro #mitsuri kanroji #kanroji mitsuri #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #uzui tengen #tengen uzui #shinobu kocho #kocho shinobu #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka #muichiro tokito #tokito muichiro #himejima gyomei #gyomei himejima #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #horror games #modern au

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 10-13 chapters 7-9 here chapters 4-6 here chapters 1-3 here

after a little break i am back with a new installment i'm doing 4 chapters today because this book only has 19 chapters.

once again: kate argent is her own warning.. there's an entire flashback chapter of her and derek when he was a teenager. she explicitly grooms him.

Our intrepid heroes are still in the goddamn woods. We shall never leave. Allison is cold and so Scott snuggles with her to share body heat. Classic trope but I have read many missing persons cases. Hypothermia can happen even when you don’t think it can. 

And we have yet another example of Derek being characterized as kind of a dick. He and Stiles find a campfire as Derek tries to track the scent of the Alpha and/or locate Scott. Stiles is just having a bad time as he’s winded from trying to keep up with Derek. Derek leaves him there. I reject this. No. Derek never left Stiles anywhere like this. Especially not with danger afoot. It very much stands in contrast to Wolf’s Bane when Derek crawls over broken glass and fights Peter, distracting him from Stiles.

The Queen has finally arrived. We finally get some Lydia narration. She also comes with Danny and some random dude Damon. 

It had been kind of annoying Danny hasn’t been involved that much considering he is Jackson’s best friend.

Have I mentioned that I don’t particularly care for how Danny is handled in this book? First you have Stiles assuming they should send Danny to the pay-by-the-hour motel because he’s gay and now Lydia’s narration is stereotyping the poor guy. “Dark-haired, with that cool Hawaiian vibe he had.” Danny was right to leave y'all.

Danny says he doesn’t have Lydia’s phone number which I sincerely doubt. 

I want to throw hands with this line “He gave her a completely non-sexual once over.” It’s giving gay-best friend trope vibes which to be fair was at its height in the 2010s and let’s face it this is how Lydia was often written pre-character development (and even after). Especially in the Sterek fandom. Don’t y’all try to tell me otherwise. I was there, Gandalf. 

There is this little section of Lydia’s I think deserves some commentary. The way this book has a subplot for Allison and Scott revolving around how they want to sleep together and the way Jackson and Lydia think of their relationship, especially their sexual relationship is interesting. Now, I’m no pearl clutching Puritan on this subject but the way that sex is handled in this narrative strikes me as too adult for their age. But this passage makes me change my perspective a little. These are kids acting too adult because they feel pressured in other areas of their lives to be adults without the experience and emotional capacity to do so. That fits in with Teen Wolf’s narrative. 

“Are you going through his stuff?” Danny queried, and she have him her best patronizing look, “Please,” She said, “You must know that I have a drawer here.” Damon looked even more impressed. Very few teenagers could claim the very adult perk of having a drawer containing their belongings at their boy -- or girlfriend’s house. Not that many teenagers had the need. It spoke of changing clothes, spending the night. Adult stuff.  Sex.”

Jackson’s computer wallpaper is Lydia which is sweet but then she says she picked it out herself which is less sweet. 

Jackson’s computer password is fucking Captain. You deserve to be hacked, Jackson.

Now Lydia brought Danny and his hanger on Damon from her house to Jackson’s because they’re looking for a CD Jackson apparently burned for Damon to use to DJ for a party. The 2010s of it all came out and kneed me in the solar plexus. Even Lydia was wondering why Jackson didn’t just make a shared playlist. But she searches through Jackson’s stuff stalling a little so she can snoop. This is all important because we finally get to the actual plot of why Jackson was lured away and missing in the first place. People want to rob the Whittermore’s while they’re out of town. Jackson at this point is still being held at gunpoint over in the preserve. 

The would be robbers -- henceforth referred to as Thing One and Thing Two -- assault Lydia and threaten her demanding to know if there are other people in the house. Lydia truly gets a raw deal no matter what.

Meanwhile, Derek’s left Stiles and is trying to follow the scene of the Alpha. He uses the word “shedding” to refer to how he left Stiles. I cannot impress enough how he would not fucking say that.

Derek’s out of luck though because the scent he comes across is old. He is at the place he found Laura’s body where he has a Moment of Anger before he moves on he picks up on Jackson’s scent. He recalls how he dug his claws into Jackson back in Magic Bullet and feels a tiny bit bad. He finds a half burned article about Jackson and does what I deem a Derek thing to do and that’s pocket it because he’s “keeping tabs on Jackson”. It’s stalking, Derek.

Narration switches back to Stiles and of course he gets weird quickly and Stiles what the fuck? Stiles doing something like this during the later seasons wouldn’t be out of the norm. He’s paranoid, hyper vigilant and suspicious at that point but here? Season 1? Stalker.

“He had tried calling Scott a couple more times, then Allison, then Lydia. He’d had her phone in his possession when he deleted the picture she’d accidentally taken of the Alpha. Of course he’d also inputted her number into his own phone; how stalkerish was that?”

Derek reappears and scares Stiles. Stiles observes “He was kind of sweaty, and he looked glummer than usual.” Stiles refuses to be normal about Derek. 

They have a little tiff except it’s them being worried about the same thing but in opposite directions. 

“Stiles crossed his arms and hunched over, shivering and trying to make himself inconspicuous, in cast the Alpha spotted Derek and decided to attack him. But Derek was a Beta werewolf too, like Scott. Why wasn’t he part of the Alpha’s pack? Maybe he is. Maybe he just hasn’t told us, he thought. “Or maybe it’s some kind of trap,” Derek said, “Something the Argents cooked up.” “You mean that Allison’s in on it?” Stiles asked, sounding incredulous.  Derek slid a glance at him. “Why do you sound so surprised? You know what the Argents are. What they do.``

And so we have arrived. The part of this book I remember the most. The Derek Hale Flashbacks. We go six years into the past. 

This is definitely where the idea of Kate Argent working at Beacon Hills High comes from and it makes a lot of sense. It even works even better given the context of season 2 where the Argents actually infiltrate the school as a tactic. 

Holder puts Derek on the swim team which is funny in retrospect because of how the swim team is important to the story of season 2 but Derek is established in season 3 as having been on the basketball team like Peter.

Holder also does a little world building on werewolf customs and pack dynamics here which the show lacks in detail. The way Holder does it is far more patriarchal than what the Hales actually are in the show. There’s a focus on Derek’s father (unnamed even here), the contest/rivalry between him and his cousin Josh, entrance into manhood and Uncle Peter. 

I am still deeply amused by Holder making the Beast of Gevaudan an ancestor of the Hales when the show took the route of making it far more deeply connected to the Argents.

The deepest of sighs at this : “Unlike Laura, who was popular, he didn’t have any human friends, and he didn’t want any.” I just have the hardest time with isolationist, anti-human Derek. Season 3 Derek called and told Book Derek to fuck himself. Derek had a posse of generic human friends.

Kate preys on Derek while she fills in for the main coach as he’s on paternity leave. Also Kate’s up here just brassily using her actual name.

Like Derek’s about 16 here so I can easily buy him noticing a pretty young woman in close proximity to him but Holder does a good job in making it clear that while Derek’s attracted to Kate superficially her interest in him makes him uncomfortable. Derek’s narration says things like “Flustered, even a little frightened.” and “He practically ran out of the school, looking over his shoulder.”

Holder then parallels Scott and Allison once more which is a, um, choice by describing Kate’s hair in the moonlight and Derek almost wolfing out. 

Apparently Laura and Derek shared a Subaru Forester. Which Hale lesbian bought this?

Now up until this point I’ve mostly avoided talking about Laura and her presence in this book because I was saving it for this scene. Laura Hale is a ghost in the narrative in the show. She’s seen maybe three different times outside of being a corpse. She’s never actually named in any of those short appearances and no one talks about her. Here she’s mentioned several times by Scott, Stiles and Derek. Plus now she’s shown in Derek’s flashbacks. I don’t like her all that much here and I think this might be where some of Laura’s fanon characterization comes from. 

Anyway, Derek and Laura are at a diner together eating hamburgers. Derek drinks Diet Coke. Look, I don’t see him as a Diet Coke drinker but that’s not the point here. Derek mentions Kate and how he thinks she’s so beautiful. Laura has this moment where she seems concerned:

“Is this...woman a student?” Laura asked. “No. She’s the new lifeguard. Ms. Argent.” Mr. Braswell’s replacement.” “School lifeguard?” she said, looking mildly shocked. “A teacher?”

After this though Laura’s characterization takes a nosedive. She refers to Kate as a slut when at this point in time Kate hasn’t really done anything necessarily wrong. Derek only really tells Laura of thinking she’s pretty. Laura’s never even met her.

She goes on to tease Derek about his crush -- the word mateable is used 🤮 -- and Derek shuts down. “Suddenly, he didn’t feel like talking to her about it anymore.”

I hate it here.

The next scene is another flashback I recall vividly. Melissa and baby Scott being abused by Mr. McCall. This fuckface trying to convince Scott that his asthma attack isn’t real and it’s all in his head. I want this man to die. Interesting that later when Rafael McCall is introduced he’s still The Worst.

Catch these hands. “Scott didn’t want him to yell at his mom because Scott had asthma. It wasn’t her fault. It was his, Scott’s.” 

If Melissa McCall had killed him no would have charged her. 

Back in the present we return to Scott and Allison. They’re still cuddling but realize they’re supposed to be looking for Allison’s keys. Her phone rings and they have a mishap which sends Allison down the incline. She takes him with her.

They recover but Allison has now lost her keys and phone. Bad day all around for Ally A.

Scott finds Allison’s phone using his wolf powers but he can’t let her know that so they use his phone to call hers. 

Her ringtone for him is apparently a band called Kids of 88. I had never heard of them so after a quick search their biggest hit was in 2009 My House. Which again -- sex.

Scott went to get her phone but he’s prevented by an invisible barrier. Wolfsbane. He makes up a lie about his leg being hurt because like how else do you explain not being able to touch a bush?

They sit down and Scott’s having thoughts like “Oh I wish Derek were here” so you know it’s not great. Allison talks a little about how she’s close to her parents.

They are fucking kissing again. Stop it. It’s not the time. 

Scott decides to text Stiles and says Stiles knows his username and password. We all know. It’s the ever iconic Allison. Jackson and Scott truly deserve each other.

I forgot Jackson was still being held at gunpoint while all this has been going on.

Jackson makes an attempt to escape but yet another guy is waiting at the Porsche. How many people are there? Two here, Cassie probably and then the two at the house. So 5 people in total it appears. Geez. 

His escape fails and he’s taken hostage. Jackson never has a good time. 

All of Chapter 13 is Kate and Derek. Shall we brace ourselves?

“One by one the other swimmers left, and he’d remained behind, torn between disappointment that she hadn’t done it again, and complete and utter relief that she was staying away from him.” Holder writes young Derek having the instinct to know Kate’s attention isn’t good.

Now Holder does do some interesting bits of worldbuilding but like I said earlier it seems so patriarchal. Surrounding challenges and fighting. His view of humans in the book is one of paternalism. 

Kate is going in for the kill now and I’m crawling up my own spine. She makes herself come across as demure. She’s playing meek and turning the whole thing back on Derek giving him the illusion of choice as she grooms him. She purposefully is coming across as more of a peer than an adult figure with authority. 

“She swirled her fingers in the water. “And this isn’t really my style, you know?” I don’t come onto men like this.” Men. She thought of him as a man. He licked his lips, completely tongue-tied. “I wish you’d say something,” she murmured. “I’m kind of dying about it now. I’m sorry if I misread your intentions. I won’t bother you again.” “I know we’d have to be careful. Outsiders might not understand.”

Excuse me. Earlier Derek mentioned his rival -- his cousin Josh -- apparently Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid. Here he mentions Laura had made out with Josh the previous Wolf Moon. Did Laura make out with their cousin?!?!?!?!?!? There’s no other Josh in this book. Like I get they’re not blood related if Josh is Peter’s sister-in-law’s kid (which lol okay bro) but what is happening here on this day?

Kate wants Derek to come home with her for privacy -- ew. So Derek calls Laura to negotiate. Hence the whole conversation about Laura making out with cousin Josh. Laura says “This is so you can do something slutty.” I deeply dislike this characterization of Laura.

And now we’re in Kate’s narration for the flashbacks. I need a shower after reading her thoughts. God, I hate Kate.

Holder goes into detail about her ideas on werewolves. It’s interesting. There’s competition for rank within the pack, challenges and rituals. I want to do a post specifically about it maybe, but I am offended on Talia Hale’s behalf here. It’s very focused on males. The automatic assumption that the Alpha is Derek’s father.

 I cannot say fuck Kate enough. “Some kids in high school are babies and others are all grown up, ready for the real world. Like you.” The classic manipulation tactic of oh but you’re so mature for your age or oh they’re such an old soul. 

Wishing Kate Argent a go ahead and die.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #sterek #on fire: a teen wolf novel #kate argent is her own warning

[my-makeshift-masquerade]

hey i wanna see a lil thing where adult reader is having a quiet meltdown at a family member's birthday party bc of sensory overload (perhaps auditory) but is trying not to ruin the party thus gone to their own corner, and spring bonnie notices

(fluff preferred bc it's me but do what's more natural)

please and ty <3

(Sorry I am so late, Spike! I gotcha friendo! This drabble is gonna be named after my dad’s favorite song of all time by Depeche Mode. I’ve decided… I would’ve made this way fluffier and played into that song inspiration more but the scenario didn’t really allow for it… Either way I hope you…)

Enjoy the Silence

Why? Why did your little cousin want to go to this place?!

Everything was too loud! The screeching banshees called children were running around your legs… Angsty teens all the while obnoxiously teasing them from the halls… Meanwhile the other adults kept up their meaningless chattering… Not to mention the kiddie songs playing on loop for the past hour and a half. They should use this as a tactic to torture criminals… You’d confess to a murder you didn’t even commit just to get out of here right now.

Your aunt looked at you with a pressuring stare as you tried once again to slowly back away to the exit. The party was only halfway done. They hadn’t even done cake and presents yet. Who were you to ruin a kid’s birthday party with your slowly escalating migraine? The other adults tolerated fine, so you could handle yourself for just a little longer… Right. Right?

You saw some little boy with a bear crying as he tugged on the security guard’s hand. The guard knelt down and picked up the child, pressing one ear against his chest and covering the other with his hand. Initially you were upset by the noise the kid made, but that poor little dude must have found this all way too loud as well… Can’t blame him.

The man caught you staring and raised an eyebrow, icy blue eyes flickering in curiosity. It made you look away and resort to walking to one of the back halls. The guard was tracking your movements, probably suspicious of you messing with something. You didn’t realize this hallway wasn’t the one customers were supposed to enter, as you saw a group of teens with candy cigarettes at the end of the corridor. They didn’t seem to care about your presence.

You stayed in the corner opening up to the party area, watching as the guard passed you with the boy in tow. He seemed to look you over, pause, then nod his head slightly in acknowledgement, as if knowing why you were here. The boy didn’t make eye contact with you, too focused on the bear in his arms. It alarmed you that the guard took the child to one of the back rooms, but then you took a step back and assumed that must just be his child.

Your cousin’s wailing was heard from the party area as someone else took a turn on a game before them, and you were beginning to lose your composure. Now every sound took you one step closer to overload. Every word spoken, every buzz of the florescent lights, every single beat in that same stupid kiddie song. It all became too much. You pressed your hands against your ears and stayed at the corner of the entrance to the hallway. A few staff members and now the teenagers looked at you funny, but it was at least a little quieter over here.

You needed the noise to stop. You needed it NOW.

“Are you alright, pal?”

You nearly fell over into a bunch of balloons. The figure was inches away from you. It was the goofy rabbit robot from the stage. What the fuck was it doing back here?!

“Careful—“ A cold metal hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back up, but in the process…

POP!

A balloon must have come into contact with a sharp piece of the rabbit’s hand, popping instantly. It was quiet for a moment apart from the music… Then one by one, every child started crying or exclaiming, and all the parents rushed to calm them. A cacophony of chaotic emotions and voices dominated even the loud kiddie tunes in volume. All the while the robot bear alone on stage went through the same motions.

“…Oops…” The animatronic murmured in a sort of surprised defeat, turning to you, “Follow me to the back… Those rooms are soundproof.”

You didn’t think twice and let yourself be led by the hand to one of the back rooms of this shoddy establishment. It smelled like sweat and pizza grease, with the lingering stench of something metallic. But oh was the quiet in this room the most beautiful music you ever heard… You sighed in relief and took a few deep breaths.

“That’s a lot better, isn’t it?” The rabbit tilted their head almost mechanically.

“God yeah…” You murmured, “Thanks…”

They couldn’t smile, but their jaw closed a bit as if to give off an impression they could. They had their arms open, as if expecting a hug.

Oh right… Kid’s mascot. This thing probably always expected people to get touchy. You were surprised at how gently it held you when you invited it to. It actually was a welcome feeling…? You sighed, shaking your head.

“Great. My cousin is gonna say this is the worst party ever now…” You covered one of your eyes with a hand, trying to block out light and ease the migraine.

“Aw, gosh… I don’t think so…” The rabbit spoke, establishing space between you both again, “They looked like they were having a blast out there!”

“R-really?” You frowned, “They’re a bit of a brat… Anything not perfect on their birthday could set them off into a tantrum. I didn’t want to ruin their party by leaving—“

“You didn’t ruin their party! It’s not even over yet, silly!” The automaton rabbit reassured you, “It settles down after the first half. Trust me… Once the little buggers have pizza, cake and ice cream in them, they start getting groggy…”

“Yeah… I guess…” You sighed, looking around at all the spare robotic parts in the room curiously now that your mind was clearer, “I…I think I am ready to go back now.”

“Let’s see…” The animatronic opened the door to hear the announcement for everyone to gather around for cake and the birthday song, “Oh, dear! I’m late— I need to get back on stage before—“

“There you are. Why did you leave the stage? Run along before they start without you…” A stern but almost threatening voice came from outside as the animatronic gave you one last look and left to take their place.

You got up to leave the room, bumping into the guard from before.

“Well, I see you got a backstage tour from Spring Bonnie… ” The same voice said with a snide tone, “Enjoy yourself?”

“Sorry, sir…” You dusted off your pants, “I got overwhelmed by the noise and they were just trying to help me. Please don’t fire them.”

“Fire them?” The man laughed, as if your statement was somehow utterly ridiculous, “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly do that…”

“But… But wasn’t that one of your employees in a cos—“

“We make some real magic happen here at Fredbear’s Family Diner.” He winked, turning away, “Now if you’ll excuse me, my son also has issues with sensory overload and I ought to check on him in my office…”

You made your way back out to the party area and saw your little cousin happily blowing out candles. Getting close to the stage, you saw that in fact there was no sign of a person in that rabbit. There was no way that was just a robot? It was way too intelligent!

The rabbit winked at you before seemingly not acknowledging your existence for the rest of the day.

#fnaf x reader #spring bonnie x reader #drabbles #this one was fun

[boinin]

Blue Lock Manga

Chapter 221 scanlation ("Take Me With You") is out and ready for devouring! Going back to a numbered structure for this chapter's analysis. My half-formed thoughts are below the cut.

No chapter next week, due to a break.

Previous chapter analyses

1. How many injuries did that goal (and the shenanigans that lead up to it) cause??

Butt monkey Mandou Sendou, the Ubers goalie and best sharkboi Kurona all get benched this chapter. I'm glad Isagi is cognisant of how demanding he is of Kurona. He calls him his planet/satellite for a reason I guess, but must be exhausting, especially when Kurona doesn't know what he's planning or going for.

Meanwhile, Canoli the Ubers GK might have cracked a goddamn rib trying stop that crazy Kaiser goal. Mad respect, best NPC goalie so far. 💀 While Sendou's... being Sendou (comic relief/a victim of the narrative basically).

I'll say this once and only once:

Bless Igaguri for this, lol (and Neru). But most of all, poor Kurona - you don't have to hurt yourself orbiting Isagi bb 😭

2. Kaiser is done playing.

The reason I got excited seeing the leaks this week is because of how stone cold Kaiser is in this chapter. HE IS SO BOTHERED IT STINGS. Tell me that's not one pissed off catboi right there. Plus, the aura of thorns? Fuckin' sick dude. His ego is coming to the forefront now, and he's less king of the court, more tiger about to pounce.

Ugh, he's such an arse, but I really enjoy him as a character. He looks fit to murder Ness (who's unnerved, no bloody wonder) and all his dialogue revolves around how disgusted he is that he had to serve up Isagi's leftovers.

Imagine. You just scored THE GOAL of the Neo-Egoist League so far, but all you can think of is how badly you're doing in the feud you initiated against your seventeen year old Japanese teammate.

For once, I'm with Ness here. Kaiser what the hell? Just take the W and move on, man.

We saw Kaiser get more serious during the Manshine game, but he's never not been smug towards Isagi. Allow me a segue, as I flick through those chapters.

[[In chp 177, he leers at Isagi that he's losing interest (Isagi: and I took that personally).

In chp 181 he scores the first BM goal against Manshine. He shows the same cat-eyed focus (his version of Predator Eye I speculate), but he's still pretty satisfied with himself.

It's only when chp 182, when Isagi turns around and tells him I see hope in crushing you now that Kaiser starts to second-guess his little game with Isagi. Antagonising the Blue Lock ace is backfiring hard on him, because bullying Isagi is a surefire way of leveling him up.

Still. Even when Isagi sets up Kunigami's score in chp 185, and we get the I'm going to fucking kill you if it's the last thing I do moment, Kaiser's still like 😏 He's not bothered. Perhaps because Isagi's doing a fine job of usurping Ness's role, but not his own.

It's not until chp 202 that Isagi finally, seriously, starts getting at Kaiser. Because at the last minute, Isagi not only anticipated Kaiser fucking with him, but had a back up plan to specifically ensure Kaiser would not take the final score of the game. That's NG11 levels of playmaking, or at least approaching it. Itoshi Sae operates at that level, but he's a prodigy. Isagi's managed to close that gap in several intensive months of training and plays. that's why he's the protagonist 😎

After Yukimiya scores and ends the game in chp 203, that's when Kaiser approaches and proposes that, versus Ubers, they compete on goals alone.

That's when Kaiser starts to take Isagi seriously. And now that we're more than halfway through, you can see Kaiser is starting to worry about his odds of winning the competition he set.]]

I don't know how the BM v Ubers game will pan out. Convention suggests Ubers will win it. Barou is a serious rival to Isagi, and at the very least, he's going to get the next goal of the game. I wouldn't write off Ubers winning altogether, with Snuffy subbing on to turn the tide.

But I think there's a strong chance one of Isagi or Kaiser will score again, and I'm leaning towards it being Kaiser. Their rivalry is too good to wind up so soon, even with a rivalry-packed PXG match on the horizon. What will happen before that is Isagi driving a sea of change at Bastard Munchen. They're already five/eleven on the team. Change Ness or Grimm out for Hiori, and Blue Lock will have succeeded in infiltrating one of the best U20 teams in the world. No mean feat, and driven mainly by Isagi's playmaking.

Anyway, back on track. I couldn't sympathise with browbeaten Ness for too long. What in yandere hell was this panel??:

HE'S SO DERANGED. It's really well drawn and everything, but it's legit HAUNTING. Something about the V shaped mouth and massive teeth I think.

Anyway, Ness will need to be sedated after this match if Isagi ends up scoring the last goal, because man can't be trusted 😊🔪

Speaking of Isagi...

3. Japanese man obsessed with being the sole thing on German striker's brain, more PRIDE news at 10

they're so frickin gay, I--

Jokes aside, their rivalry is a feast for the eyes as well as us shippers. Everytime Kaiser talks shit about him, one of Isagi's cells morphs into a jigsaw piece. Man's going to have more puzzles than a ‎Ravensburger catalogue if he doesn't stop soon.

This panel goes so hard. Unfortunately the image quality of this week's scanlation is a little rough. I'm hoping there's better quality raws floating around for anyone that's into colouring, but this chapter has so many cool shots. This and Kaiser bitching out Ness are my personal favourites.

4. Star System Sub Alert! Marc Snuffy's coming in clutch for the Ubers side

I did kinda hope that neither Snuffy or Noa would sub in this game. Neither of them seem like the type to want to outshine their younger charges. Prince and Lavinho are both massive narcissists, while Loki is a peer as well as a coach to his PXG players. Those coming on in a game makes sense.

That said, Snuffy seems to really gel with and support the Ubers boys, and they're on the losing side. To me, that's the only sensible reason for him to step in, forcing Noa to come on also.

I think Snuffy's MO will be to set up a goal for Barou, while knocking Kaiser and Isagi down a peg. I hope he synergises with Lorenzo! Noa will be man marking Snuffy, but might get time to do some Isagi coaching while he's out there, who knows?

Either way, we get to see Snuffy in action on the field, which I'm down for.

Lastly: did anyone think Snuffy was that tall? Noa's got to be around Kunigami's range in height (so ~188cm/6'2" territory). From this panel, Snuffy's just as tall, which was a shock... 😶

5. OH LAWD HE COMIN

(and by comin, I mean: signing up to join Isagi Yoichi's harem of rehabilitated sad bois)

HIORI MY SON

WHEN WILL THEY SUB YOU INTO THIS GAME?

Not by the time I predicted, that's for sure. But I am excited to see his ego awakening as he looks with completely platonic admiration at Isagi.

All in all, a hype-worthy chapter, even after the adrenaline from Kaiser's mega goal fades. I'm so excited to see where it goes with two masters on the field (+ Fukaku Gen I guess? I feel validated for writing him into the national team in my post-canon fic haha).

Prediction tracker

(alternatively: how wrong can one nerd be week to week?)

Last time, I predicted: Chapter 221 will be both teams reckoning with this goal. We’ll likely get input from both Ubers and BM, and some sort of change in dynamic–be it a substitution or the coaches opting to play (reeeally doubt this will happen though, unless they get a nudge from Ego). In particular, I’m eager to see how Lorenzo and Hiori process this. Also, someone’s going to yell at Isagi. Kunigami or Raichi are my guess.

Egg on my face? Ah well.

We're down to two more chapters for Hiori to get subbed per my original prediction... chuckles nervously

Already went through my thoughts for where Snuffy/Noa are going to go with this, so I'll chalk that up as next chapter's prediction. See you then!

#whenever these posts get notes the thumbnail is always the first image #deliberately made it sendou this time because of that #look at his derpy little face! #salmon boy is growing on me like mould #blue lock #bllk #bllk manga spoilers #bllk manga analysis #bllk chp 221 #mine #michael kaiser #isagi yoichi #marc snaffy #noel noa #hiori yo #boinin talks bllk

[hoodiehydra]

This is actually my fourth fic with @pro-ups-spamton's AU.

We had the very first post, then the second one, then came the sequel, then this.

Anyways, using this from the AU

Warnings: S W E A R I N G.

Enjoy :)

— — — —

“Uh- daddy? Where are you?” Fave called out into the yellow, creepy hallways. Did she get lost again? Not exactly. See, this time, it wasn’t her fault, The studios’ embodiment of Satan himself decided to just disappear out of thin fucking air.

For once, Ink here changed. From what was a 7 feet monster, came down to… 3 feet? Hard to tell.

Finally, his eyes could be seen. Toon eyes, a small bow and gloves, nothing like his other form, the terrifying one. He looked more… approachable.

He peered out from behind a corner, where he was in Fave’s line of sight. Small and tubby, he clumsily approached Fave. Fave, noticing the small movement from slightly in front of her, widened her eyes out of curiosity. She was wary of the creature, of course, from her dad’s words to “trust no one”.

Would she go against it? Maybe. It’s a close “maybe” to a definite “yes”. But she understood why he was so wary.

Right, I’m straying.

Well, the small toon peered at Fave from a distance, neither of them moving. He was harmless, in this form, at least.

Shakily, Fave asked, “You’re not… gonna hurt me, are you?”

The toon shook his head, showing he meant no harm.

Still afraid, Fave took hesitant steps towards him. Slowly, she inched towards the rather small toon, who stood there, bravely, since, well, what was there to be afraid of? She’s a fucking child, why- why would he even fear-

Point was, he never budged.

Fave finally approached him, with a certain level of caution. When she finally came to the conclusion that he had no intentions of harming her, she let down her guard and let the little guy come closer to her.

She was rather small, but Bendy was a little shorter than her, his head tilted up when looking at her, it was different now. Bendy surely wasn’t used to this angle, usually he would be the one much, much taller than her, but now where was he? Head up, it made his neck feel weird. He wasn’t used to looking upwards at anyone, honestly.

He was deep in thought, when a sudden small pair of arms wrapped around his small figure.

Yeah, this was definitely very weird. Her arms would not even be able to fully wrap around his leg, and here she was, hugging his entire body.

A little freaked out, he hesitantly returned the display of affection, awkwardly patting her back.

Sensing the small bit of awkwardness between them, Fave pulled away, but he latched onto her.

He was never a clinger, but maybe just this once, he could let it slide.

Smiling, Fave once again started to hug him, so he wouldn’t feel (too) awkward again. God damn, she was sweet.

The cartoon in her arms wanted to lick her, it was his Ink Demon instincts, I guess. Honestly, no one knows what goes on inside the poor dude’s mind. Lick her? No, that’s weird, that’s only for his demonic side. What- bite her? Ouch. Uh- kiss her? No idea.

To be fair, he… doesn’t have lips. Neither are his teeth very, well, you know. Easing? Calming? You get my point.

He gently pressed his lips against her soft cheek, giving it a quick kiss. Fave found it adorable, and squeezed him a little tighter. After getting the hang of it, he kissed her again, repeatedly. It was like licking her repeatedly.

As new as this was to the little girl, she lacked affection. I mean, she did receive some, but there was only so much she could get inside a cold, depressing studio and a demon for a dad.

Thus, she accepted it all, giggling softly with each feathery kiss.

This was no longer the Ink Demon, it was Bendy. In this state, at least.

Alas, all good things must come to an end… or whatever that quote is.

“YOU LITTLE BRAT! GET OVER HERE!” A shrill voice shrieked from behind Fave.

Oh, not that bitch again.

Guess who it was. Guess, I dare you.

Right, it’s Alice, the whore (if you read my last fic on this AU).

Bendy pushed himself out of Fave’s arms, begrudgingly. Growling lowly, he started to return back into his other form, and no, I will not give you the details. Fave just sat there… questioning whatever the fuck just happened. The adorable toon was her father? No freaking way.

Upon seeing the demon, Alice knew she fucked up and fled. Pussy.

“You’re the little guy?” Fave was really surprised, as you can see.

The demon nodded.

“Why did you kiss me?” She asked.

“Well, those small teeth can’t eat you so that was… a taste test.” His response was weird.

“I don’t believe you.” Fave grinned, completely seeing through him.

Oh well. The demon better have better lies next time then.

————

Damn. This was long asf.

THIS ACTUALLY WENT FOR 3 PAGES ON DOCS WTF-

#batim #batdr #daddy ink demon au #favorite!audrey #glassbreaker’s treasure trove

[tigerdrop]

But what if you said more about HS Jamie tho

okay but you must know, first of all: i stopped reading homestuck in 2012 and i dont know what the fuck goin on lore-wise. and i also dont care unless it directly corresponds to insane gay sex so dont tell me

im just saying if jamie was a homestuck troll he would have almost the exact same gender and sexuality problems WRT banging daniel. it would make a lot of sense. he has a lot of Issues about letting a cis dude (or a human dude, in this case) get up in his business b/c in real life, like.....feeling assured that youre seen as male by guys you have sex with is not as easy as having them use the right pronouns lol. there are so many men that will say literally whatever u want to hear just to get their dicks wet

and so like.....he would be wildly stressed out about the idea of this human motherfucker putting him in the wrong box just b/c he doesnt have a human dick and balls! it would drive him nuts! and it would drive him super fucking insane that, even with all these hang ups, he cant just, like. stop having a weird vacillating crush on the guy. it would make things so much easier if he could.

another thing that would drive him nuts is his total inability to sort daniel into a single quadrant.....he keeps going back and forth on "do i like him? is he the most fucking annoying guy ive ever met? do i pity him b/c he cant get a grip on human (or troll) interaction???"

and daniel doesnt even have the decency to flirt back in the right quadrant! hes like.....hes some kind of fuckin pervert, is what he is. going back and forth all the time and making jamies feelins all complicated

MEANWHILE......poor fuckin daniel. he genuinely doesnt understand why jamie seems to just arbitrarily go hot or cold on him. like.....when jamies mean, he gets pissed off! but when jamies nice, hes still pretty pissed off! and then when daniels nice, jamie goes either fucking way! it doesnt make any sense!

he literally needs somebody to hand him a pamphlet on The Basics of Troll Relationships to begin puzzling this shit out. he needs like......a flowchart. and once he gets one it rocks his fucking world. if you had told him previously that jamie was flirting with him in every single one of these interactions, he would not have believed you. but now hes got a Manual

(but jamies not gonna be the one to pity him enough to give him a fucking pamphlet. thats wayyy too emotionally forward.)

the like. the lightbulb moment when daniel realizes "ohhh so when hes being mean to me hes just trying to get in my pants" and tries to facilitate this outcome by blackrom flirting back. but hes so fucking bad at it

as a friend put it. imagine him being like "i... hate you too?" and immediately getting bitched at for reciprocating badly. this is his worst fucking nightmare. hes already bad at decoding subtext! let alone alien hatefuck subtext!

(for the record jamies like. 3x more of a bitch in this AU than in reality. but hes still insane and neurotic)

and on jamies end hes already well on his way to becoming a Total Fucking Freak for quadrant mixing shit b/c daniel keeps flirting with him so fucking badly. none of it turns him off at all. his weird little crush just keeps getting worse

ultimately all of this is to say that they should have insane alien gay sex. insane sexo where jamie, embarrassed beyond belief, concedes to showing daniel how his alien junk works. lets him poke and prod at it. bosses him around and tells him exactly what to do and what not to do and makes daniel Earn It before he gets to touch his stupid human dick.

and daniels a great learner, yknow. hes got those deft mechanics hands. he knows how to make an engine (or a troll, as it were) purr. and also how to make it squirt all over the back of his car

that is possibly one of the more crass/humiliating things ive typed on this awful awful blog. thanks for joining me. i only care about weird sex. okay. bye. bye . bye. bye

#cw homestuck #safdc #You shouldnt read this post.

[scurriilous]

@sharkfinx​ ASKED // 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄

He's sitting still—relaxed as anyone can be over a red velvet couch. Even if was big, anything close to Kisame seemed smaller than it was. Nibbling on crunchy shrimp snacks while browsing through pages of a little notepad. There's another man laying on the bed adjacent to the where shinobi was. Untouched tube and condoms showed nothing had happened at that night. Kisame's eyes perked up seeing the door open. 

" Ohh, Good morning! Hidan-san. "It was evening, but he was already used to their late meeting after Hidan's fun. " Everything went as your wishes? hmm? Ah! How would you rather the ladies from this place? The service I would say it's 3/5 since they a long time to bring the food I asked....The poor's one you send came here so exhausted.' I told them they could take a nap while I was using the room, nee. " Drawing the stars as the grade he gave, then using the pencil to scratch the side of the head. 

 " ....only one thing is in my mind, Hidan-san. Any reason for sending a man this time? You usually send woman to me. Last one really knew how to wash our capes—I was soo admired I asked for tips, nee." 

   Much like the sigh from his lips, Hidan’s expression falls at the scene laid out before him before muttering,

               ❝ You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. ❞

   Unlike his brother-in-arms, the evening’s relations were apparent on the Jashinist. Silver hair disheveled, cloak hastily thrown on, and two different colored lipstick marks stamped and smeared on the skin of his neck and torso. Lavender eyes shift to cast upon the call boy on the bed ; sleeping like a baby and clad in nothing but a jockstrap. Untouched paraphernalia confirm the Priest’s fear. 

   ❝ Not again. Kisame, c’mon ! How many times do I have to tell you - the whores are for FUCKING not - ❞ He struggles for the correct term. What exactly was it that Kisame was doing with them? You couldn’t quite call it HOMEMAKING, but it was closer to that than it was to sex. ❝ - Shit. I’m at a loss here, man, seriously. You never seemed interested when I’d send you chicks so I figured, hey, maybe he’s in the mood for a dude but . . . What the fuck is this ?! ❞ A gesture toward the dozed off male communicates his frustration. Guy must really be knocked out cold considering Hidan’s raising voice hasn’t woke him up yet.

                  ❝ Tell me you at least got a blowjob ! ❞

#sharkfinx #[ verse i. ] #[ SHJADKHSDHAKSJ #im dead #this is amazing ] #[ hidan cares more about kisame getting laid than kisame does ifjsdnkfj ]

[meadowmines]

WIP: Safety Man

[In which Aoyagi fucks up.]

Of course, free house or no, the JISHA guy has a lot to say about a massive explosion that by some miracle did not kill or even seriously injure anyone but sent debris into low Earth orbit and shattered every window on the upper east side of Kamurocho and flattened at least one car, and Aoyagi has been shut up in the safety trailer with this asshole for three literal hours getting chewed up one side and down the other, and he’s running on like two hours of sleep, one bowl of soba, and about twelve gallons of energy drinks and black coffee and by the time the JISHA guy gnaws the last of his ass off and spits it out on the floor with a threat of severe fines and other penalties and fucks off back to his free house with the garden his wife loves, Aoyagi has just stone cold run out of fucks to give.

“Stone cold out of fucks to give” is a dangerous state of mind for Aoyagi. It is a state of mind that has ended well for him once and only once and never again,  and right now he’s stone cold out of fucks to give about that too.

So you understand that when he finally rolls the proverbial stone away and emerges from the safety trailer and sees the crew, including the boss, gathered around a makeshift stage with party lights and shit strung up around it singing goddamn karaoke while the back forty of the job site continues to smolder gently, he is not exactly thinking about the big picture. 

“What,” Aoyagi grinds out at the first warm body he comes to while someone yowls out the most godawful rendition of “Kamurocho Lullaby” he’s ever heard, “the pan fried fuck is going on here?”

The guy turns around, open container in hand and a thousand proof on his breath, and gives Aoyagi the biggest shit-eatingest grin. “Hey, aniki! The boss set alla this up, said it’s for morale n’ shit. You want a beer?”

“I do not,” Aoyagi snarls. “Where. Is. The. Boss.”

“Whatcha need him for?”

Aoyagi turns his deadest-eyed customer service smile on the guy. “I need to tear him into individual molecules.”

“O-oh.” The guy sobers up real damn quick. “Sorry. Sir. He, uh.” He inclines his head towards the makeshift stage, where the boss is clambering up, beer in one hand and microphone in the other.

Aoyagi leaves the guy to pee his pants in peace and stalks off towards the stage. The boss is singing. Nishida (also with open container in hand but to his credit, at least his is non-alcoholic) catches his eye and gives him a little sympathetic shrug and grimace. Aoyagi knows what that means. It means Nishida tried to talk the boss out of this and failed miserably. He tries to bulldoze his way through a crowd of tough guys and buff dudes at least a head taller than him to get to his poor bro’s side so they can be miserable together, and he gets halfway through when he hears the thing that just sort of sends his entire sense of self-preservation hurtling out the window:

“A-kun! Get yer ass up here n’ sing us a song!”

Aoyagi feels a blood vessel in his forehead threaten to burst.

Oh, he thinks. I’ll sing y’all a song, all right.

“B-bro--” he must be making some kind of face, or turning some kind of color, because when he turns to look Nishida in the eye, Nishida makes a little airy noise and takes half a step back. “Bro. Don’t do it.”

“I’m gonna do it,” Aoyagi says, low and even with that snake-eyed customer service smile, and that just makes Nishida squeak and take another step back. He climbs up on the stage. 

The passing dark cloud that flits across the boss’ face when Aoyagi snatches the mike out of his hand should have been a warning, but remember: fucks, stone cold out of. He doesn’t call out a title, doesn’t even wait for the boss to clear the stage. He just turns that customer service smile on the whole crew, takes a deep breath, and proceeds to sing a capella:

“If you’re disgruntled and you know it, clap your hands!” Clap clap. “If you’re disgruntled and you know it, clap your hands!” Clap clap, and Aoyagi notes with some detached smug satisfaction and also gut-wrenching alarm that several of the guys start to clap, glance in the boss’ direction, and then do not. “If you’re disgruntled and you know it, let your middle fingers show it!” Appropriate inappropriate gestures in the boss’ direction. “If you’re disgruntled and you know it, clap your hands!” Clap clap, customer service smile, and deep bow.

The silence that follows this performance is like nothing Aoyagi has ever experienced in his entire life. No wind. No crickets, even though it’s the right time of year and day for that. No birds. No passing cars outside the job site fence. No horns, no sirens. Not a single breath. Forget hearing a pin drop. He’ll swear later that he could hear the photons being ejected from the stupid party lights.

He feels the mike being ever so gently removed from his hand, and when he turns his head to see where it went he sees the boss standing right up in his personal space. He’s got that look that means Aoyagi has just let his mouth write a check that’s coming back from the First National Bank of His Ass with INSUFFICIENT FUNDS stamped across it in big red letters. Lip curled in just the faintest hint of a sneer, fingers flexing lazily, narrowed eye drilling right through Aoyagi’s soul. The arm not attached to the hand holding the mike whips around Aoyagi’s shoulders and yanks him in nice and tight, way too tight to be friendly.

“If yer ‘bout to get yer ass whooped and ya know it,” the boss drawls into the mike and also right into Aoyagi’s ear, “clap yer hands.”

Aoyagi takes a deep breath, lets it out in a long sigh, takes his glasses off and hands them to the boss... and claps twice.

---

Here’s the thing. 

Aoyagi can handle himself just fine in a garden-variety street fight against the kind of beer-league punks and drunks and rank-n-file yakuza grunts and other assorted cannon fodder he normally runs across. 

Fighting Goro Goddamn Majima head-on is not a garden-variety street fight, unless you live in a place where your garden-variety street fights involve throwing hands with some mutant fusion of a rabid doberman, an EF-5 tornado, and the entire inventory of at least three or four mall sword vendors, in which case you should probably move. A Hiroshi Aoyagi vs. Goro Goddamn Majima head-on fight typically consists of two hits:

Majima hitting Aoyagi

Aoyagi hitting the ground

Aoyagi would like to tell you this fight was different. He would like to tell you that, having filled the void where all of his fucks used to be with seething rage and an alarming quantity of caffeine, he held his own and maybe even got one good solid punch in before he went down. He would even like to tell you that he managed to curl up in a ball and turtle out the worst of it until the boss saw something shiny or got bored or Nishida pissed him off even worse or anything like that, and that he then got up and limped back to his trailer to lick his wounds for a few minutes and then went home none the worse for wear.

He regrets to inform you that instead, he wakes up on the couch in his trailer who knows how many hours later with his head throbbing and the taste of blood in his mouth and his unharmed glasses on his chest and Nishida hovering over him like he might die any second.

“Bro?” Nishida says gingerly, like he’s prodding at a fresh bruise, which he kind of is both figuratively and literally. “I... I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but...”

“Worth it,” Aoyagi slurs, and he passes out again.

#yakuza oc #totes worth it

[wow-cool-robot]

Episode 25: The Battle of Odessa

excited to see this shows take on actual battles that overshadow the white base in scope!

amuro is very high strung before the battle, and it's pissing the engineers off.

now he's sadly flashing back to the times he spent with matilda last episode. i liked matilda, but this does feel a little like them just needing to reuse some animation to fill time

the music getting cut off when sayla says his name made me laugh

come on, answer fraw bow when she asks if you're ok, don't be rude!

the black di-stars mourning their lost member is a fairly nice scene. as always, this show is really good at humanizing the enemy, with the only exception being m'quve so far. he's just kind of generic

i love them sliding around. very code geass

did they not know when they were attacking? i thought that had already been decided and shared

have faith in fraw bow! you're 5, you don't get to be worried about that sort of thing

oh shit, they're going to find the spy

amuro no! the corruption goes all the way to the top!

oh he convinced the grunts beforehand that this might be worth listening in on? that was smart

hopefully things go well on that front

kai's doing surprisingly well, and this whole battle is well animated

aww, the orphans are helping fraw bow out :3

kai's out of the fight now, so it's amuro vs the black di-stars, with hayato in the core fighter

so since elran got got, that screwed m'quve? good, i hope this is the last we see of him

you're gonna nuke everything????

"yeah, it's a warcrime. but have you considered i would like to win the battle?" is interesting logic, but i'm not sure that'll hold up in a military tribunal

revil's stone cold, huh. not even hesitating?

i was expecting these guys to last a while, but amuro is really cutting through the ranks of the black di-stars (now just the black star singular)

hydrogen bomb as a uniquely taboo weapon feels weird in a world where zeon dropped a colony on australia, but i guess you really don’t want fallout in a colony

dude that's so fucking risky! i mean, no better option i guess, but if i were amuro i might just hunker down and hope the gundam will stop me from getting radiation poisoning if i'm not at ground zero

why do you think the data pre-treaty is still accurate? they still have the weapons, why would the not be making more in secret?

the poor gundam shield. gets destroyed every episode these days

"the federation has ignored my demand that they let me win or i'll start committing war crimes, so now i must commit war crimes! this is their fault!"

more like black no-stars. or die-stars? idk

that nuclear bomb is still on fire, and just exploded on a mountain. that seems like it's still a major issue!

though i guess the dom exploding is a bigger explosion? dunno what's up with that. maybe i just don't understand how nukes work

oh god damnit. i knew this battle wasn't the end of the war, but i was hoping it would be the end of m'quve!

i was going to ask why amuro was the one shaking hands with revil, but he did just save them all from a nuclear missile, so i guess that makes sense

good episode, the first one to explicitly call out war crimes being committed, which will become something of a recurring theme as i understand it

#0079 #gundam liveblog

[huenjin]

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?" 

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?" 

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic. 

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 

“Hey,” you say and smile. 

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

#stray kids smut #minho smut #lee know smut #skz smut #lee minho smut #minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #minho imagines #minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #writings.rue

[its-me-im-coraline]

Baby // Headcannons

words //

warnings // non really, this is teeth rotting fluff, any deisre for children after this is not my fault, blame Måneskin 😂

pairing // Måneskin members x GN!Reader

author's note // lol i decided to use these photos cause it looks more aesthetically pleasing. anyways i hope you enjoy the headcannons also don't forget the "sleepover" on sunday yayyyyy...

request // yes here

summary // Måneskin as parents

Damiano David

damiano as a father would be the absolute sweetest

the man looks intimidating in photos but the moment he opens his mouth is the sweetest

thus the conclusion that he’d be the softest father in existence

will be extremely hands on raising your kid the whole time

he refuses to not do his absolute best to be there as much as possible for your guys’ child

will never complain about having to change diapers

for some reason I imagine damiano to be the type of father that would take baths with his child

“look, look at daddy’s hair”

while he has some kind of ‘intricate’ hairstyle with tons of foam all around it

will literally cry for pretty much every milestone of the child

“di-did they just laugh? Y/N, our child just laughed, stop laughing at me!”

meanwhile he is borderline sobbing

i can also imagine him if not crying just laughing in excitement at something they do

like say your guys’ child has taken up some kind of sport or martial art, they will show the most recent thing they learned to damiano and he will start giggling in pleasant surprise

“Dio mio, amore, that was fucking awsome!”

will have a hard time not cursing in front of the child sometimes

but he’s working on it

will take tons of walks around the city, in parks and stuff, together

can just imagine him in nature, holding hands with this tiny little human being

ahuaifjn my heart dudes

will be supportive of them no matter what

be it the child’s sexuality, gender identity, career and hobbies

as long as they can be safe he doesn’t mind at all

will try not to cry when his kid will move away

if they move somewhere close by rest assured he will never not be at their house

“you know dad, you have a house of your own, don’t you like it better?”

“nah, the sun hits this place really nicely, i enjoy it”

will def take you and the kid along when traveling, when possible of course

I can also just imagine him having his kid on stage at a show and just kind of playing around and singing and awwwwwwwwwwwww

Why do I want this? i don't even want kids!!!!!!

Thomas Raggi

Thomas is a similar case to Damiano but of course with his differences

instead of taking walks around he just takes naps with them

you can not even count the times you have come home, calling for thomas and your kid and neither responds

so you get worried a bit but then you see them napping on the couch

will nap with your kid in the weirdest places

can and will fall asleep together on a chair in the balcony/yard

I feel like he would spoil them a bit?

especially if he’s been away for long, he will return home baring gifts

from a cute shirt, to something pretty expensive that reminded him of them

will always bring snacks from different countries, like chocolates for belgium or nougat from greece (yes it is kind of a traditional candy in some greek islands especially)

might not take baths with them like damiano but i can see thomas just playing around with the hose outside in the yard

“Dad, no it’s cold! stoooop it!”

“Oh come on, it's burning out here! don’t you love the little cooling effect?”

will know when not to throw water at your kid of course, it is always done in good fun when they’ve gone outside with the solemn reason of playing with the water

dance parties at the most random moments

like a song they both like plays at a store

they will start dancing in the middle of the store

sometimes you act like you dont know them

others you join it

how sweet

ok but like picknics at the park

you just lay in a blanket, thomas and your child are non stop playing around until they get tired

and when thomas sits down the kid is still all over him and they are being so cuddly with each other

will always remind them of their jacket

Victoria De Angelis

victoria would feel a little awkward at first

idk but although i'm sure she is the sweetest with children i feel that she will not be sure how to act at first

maybe she would view your baby as very very fragile at first and be very afraid of her movements as to not do anything to hurt them

i can not stop thinking of victoria when her child is sick or feels down

she will immediately go mama bear at them

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Does your head hurt?”

“Do you feel cold?”

why do i feel she would get into superstitions sometimes

“i should call your mum, Y/N (if you're from a culture that believes in that). someone gave them the evil eye. of course they did, you're amazing!”

feels very proud of the outfits she gives your kids i swear

“this is perfect! Y/N look how cute they look!! You have the matching shirt, right?”

will go above and beyond for them

doesn’t care what time it is, if her baby needs her she’s there

tickle fights are a must in your household

she will always laugh hysterically even if your kid doesn’t actually tickle her

the cutest thing is them two just sleeping together in the car when going somewhere

poor chilli now has to endure to children bothering her lol

victoria would be extremely protective of your child, not only if they got hurt but even with the idea that they could

will always be proud mama™

"they are amazing, how can i not be proud"

Ethan Torchio

Remember how I said Victoria would feel kind of scared of doing something wrong and hurting your kid?

ethan is even more worried

idk, i see this man as an absolute gentle giant

i can see him just staring at the baby the first time he sees them with so much adoration, as if in a trance

now…

out of all of them ethan is the “strictest”

i feel like you would be the one to try to sneak desert before dinner and ethan would just scold both you and your child

“Y/N, I told them no before! Come on!”

just like them all he is willing to go to the end of the world for that kid

will not hesitate to bring them the moon if he could, no questions asked

i feel like he would be the one your child confides in the most

like i can imagine your teenager sneaking out, something going wrong and calling ethan first!

he will die from the worry when he gets the call but as i said will go to the ends of the world for them

ethan will never even once yell at them

scold them a few times? sure

but yell? not even once!

now imagine this man with a little child wearing his shirt at the beach, walking around and showing them the beach

“You see those lights over there? They are windmills. They collect energy from the wind. how cool is that”

very close to my grandmother pointing out the windmills she’s seeing every summer for the past 20 years lol

he is so wholesome, will turn everything into a learning opportunity

i feel like he would be the father that is so embarrassing to the child because of how wholesome he is some times

but both them and their friends would confide in him

will literally father their friends if they need it omg

he is the type to see you holding them for the first time, or just holding them and doing something and just getting horny

“come on amore, let’s have one more!”

“ethan no”

he’s like telepathically communicate with them

it gets creepy but he does that to you two

he just knows when you need anything

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast

#måneskin x reader #måneskin fanfic #måneskin imagine #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio #victoria de angelis imagine #victoria de angelis #damiano david imagine #damiano david #maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction

[slow-burn-sally]

(Almost) Everyone dies in The Terror, and that might sound pretty bleak. Ok... it is pretty bleak, but... each character dies in their own way, and each for their own reasons. Each death scene is different, and evokes subtly different emotions, and are often used to communicate different things. 

Sir John’s death feels like a punishment for his ignoring Francis’ warning and for not ordering his men to treat Silna and her father’s father’s body with more respect. 

Hornby’s death, collapsing from the extreme cold, helps hammer home the point that the cold is unimaginable in its intensity.

Evans’ death helps further the idea that the Tuunbaq is intelligent and messing with the crew. 

Morphin’s death helps support the plot point that the cans of food are poisoned with lead. 

Stanley’s death shows the audience how deeply disturbed he’d become, and serves as the catalyst for Crozier’s announcement that they must leave the ships and walk south. 

McDonald’s death was..... just pointless and horrible. Hickey should have aimed higher with the knife. I know you’re short, my dude, but come on. 

Irving’s death leads the crew to uncover Hickey’s crimes, and to prove to the audience how far Hickey is now willing to go to get what he wants and gain control of the situation. 

The deaths of the Inuit .... well... they fall into the McDonald category. They serve to illustrate just how dangerous Hickey has become, but they feel the most unfair out of anyone in the show, and are definitely among the most heartbreaking.

James’ death is soft and intimate and it drives home how close Francis and James have become. It is by far one of the best deaths in the show. James checks out early, avoiding a lot of pain, and dies in his friend’s arms in a lantern lit tent, private and secure, after being told that he’s admired by Bridgens and that there will be poems written about his life. Yes, we all love James, and I wish he didn’t die, but he got a comparatively good death.

Same with Henry Peglar. He died in a private place, attended to by his love, John Bridgens. 

Bridgens’ death is basically the height of romance. My bae died, so now I can’t go on. His dignified (if probably painful and protracted) death was Romeo and Juliet as fuck and I can appreciate that.

Collins’ death is another on the unfair list. Poor guy. At least he went out blitzed off his ass on coca wine. His death also illustrated the fact that the Tuunbaq is a soul eater.

Jopson. I can almost not talk about Jopson’s death. Super duper unfair. Basically just used to illustrate how much Jopson loves his captain and to have his heart broken into a thousand pieces before he dies. Lump him in with McDonald and Collins. Poor babieees.

Goodsir. A very upsetting death, but he goes out like a motherfuckin BOSS. His death is as productive and logical and poetic as it’s possible to make a death, and it’s probably among the top three or four deaths in the whole series. He checks out early just to help take down Hickey’s crew. Cinnamon Roll has spice!

Little’s death. Not as bad as it could have been. He at least gets to be with Crozier at the very end and doesn’t have to die alone. But still... poor meow meow. Poor Edward. 

Hickey’s death. Just pure entertainment. He deserved it. It was epic. It also has the added benefit of proving that he’s an egomaniac and not very smart. 

Blanky’s death. Hands down the best one in the show. Wrapped in forks. Smoking a pipe. Giving the Tuunbaq the world’s biggest proverbial two finger salute. He set it up himself and did it to help save the crew. Bonus: finding the Northwest Passage. Thomas Blanky, I applaud you! 

#the terror #deaths #death talk #non-explicit death talk #death scenes #my ramblings #my opinions

[docockbrainrot]

i think i want you (to leave)

Summary: We’re all running from something. Sometimes, metaphorically. Sometimes, literally. Literally running, from the very strangely hypnotizing supervillain that seems hellbent on ruining every bit of your life he can get all eight of his limbs on.

Pairing: Doc Ock X Reader/ Otto Octavius X Reader

Content: Slow Burn, NSFW eventually, 18+

AO3 link here.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 5

anathema// former vandal

The next several days are an uneventful blur. You barely leave your apartment, except for brief dog walks and grabbing food from the bodega across the street.

It’s 9 pm on Saturday and you’re fresh out of the shower, tucked away in a very fuzzy robe, lounging on the couch and watching YouTube on your television. You almost miss the subtle taptaptaptap sound coming from your window, you're so engrossed in the cooking show you’ve been binging. Gotta fill the void somehow, right?

You can’t see anything outside from where you’re sitting. The lights are on and make it impossible to peer through the reflections on the glass. Maybe it’s a bird. Or a branch is caught on the fire escape. Either way, you certainly can’t be assed to check it out and you take another sip of your chamomile tea- you’ve been trying everything under the sun, just about short of literally snorting lines of melatonin, to try to sleep better at night. Nothing’s been working. But you have been making a very valiant effort.

A few moments go by and you forget all about the window disturbance until,

TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP.

It’s jarring. It’s loud. Above all else, it’s annoying. Chekov spares you a look, like you’re the one making a racket. Effectively exasperated, you make an effort to set, not slam, down your mug, feeling decidedly not Calm and Relaxed as the tea promised. Suppose it’s not miracle shit though, is it? You would not be a good candidate for a horror movie because you fearlessly storm over to the window and throw it open (it wasn’t locked in the first place; you’re quite terrible at remembering to). You stick your head out and glower at whatever irritating mischief is happening out here, ready to rip the fire escape off the side of the brick building.

You’re greeted by something cold and hard (and indubiously metal, judging by how it felt against your sternum) shoving you back into your apartment, sending you sprawling unceremoniously to the hardwood floor. A string of profanities ready to leave your tongue, you sit up and adjust your robe in an attempt to preserve a modicum of your modesty. The rant dies in your throat as red eyed claws grip the threshold of your pre-war window and it’s almost comical the way He maneuvers himself in, far too large to be making these sorts of entrances. Standing up to his full height before you while you’re still sitting dumbfounded on the floor reminds you of just how impressively built he is. You manage to pick your jaw up, but your ass remains firmly planted on the wood.

“Uh… you could have just used the buzzer, dude. I have a front door, you know,” you sputter out, brain blitzing in pretty much every way possible. Your thoughts are racing and eventually they settle on the most important thing you can think to ask in that moment: “... Why aren’t you wearing a shirt.” You can't help the way your eyes are drawn to his broad chest, gaze lingering on the vast scarring that spills out from the metal contraption clamped around his midsection.

Otto very graciously closes the window behind himself. Or at least his little robot accomplices do it for him. You still aren’t sure what’s going on with that- the whole AI thing. Not even a blip on your radar of concerns at this point. “Didn’t want anyone to see me come in. Your building has a camera on the front, facing the street.”

“That’s why you’re shirtless?” You ask dumbly. Interesting method of camouflage. “What? No- what? It doesn’t matter- listen to me. I need you to do something for me. A small favor.”

He doesn’t seem to notice the compromised position he put you in. Typical. Gathering up your broken pride, you get up and tighten the tie of your robe a bit. It isn’t until then that he has the decency to look a smidge embarrassed and you hope you didn't just give him a free show on your way to getting to your feet. “You literally just broke into my apartment and now you’re asking for a favor? We barely know each other!”

“Less complicated when there's nothing personal involved yet, plus- you let me in,” he corrects you. You wish he would stop doing that. You wish he would stop meeting with you like this, under weird and mysterious circumstances. Even though it's only been like twice. You're already over it.

“You threw me across the room!”

“Touche.”

Otto does not apologize and you did not sincerely expect him to. The look on his face reads more like the cat that got the canary than regretful. You feel as though you’ve come to recognize that expression on his face and you also feel as though you don’t much like the fact that you’ve enough encounters with this man that you can recognize a damn thing about him. “What… could you possibly need me to do for you? I am not robbing a bank.” You just want to get that out into the open as soon as possible.

“I don’t need your help robbing a bank,” he snorts as if the idea is preposterous and you take a moment to feel insulted. Wow. Okay. You could totally rob a bank if you wanted to. Deciding to not comment on your wounded ego, you let him get to the point. Otto pulls something out of his inner coat pocket. It's some kind of rolled up paper and you think at first maybe it's a newspaper or magazine. He unfurls it onto the coffee table and holds it open with two metal claws on either side so it doesn't ravel itself back up.

You realize it's a blueprint. "This is… Oscorp," you point out stupidly, brow furrowing in confusion. There's levels to what's happening here. Layers upon layers, melding together with rot and decay and you can all but smell it. But there's something missing, something that would tie all of the wackjob shit that's been happening to you and around you together. It feels like when you have a very particular thought and then walking into another room makes it dissolve from your head. You're trying to grasp for it, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but it's just out of reach.

"Yes. It is. I have a small task I need you to do," Otto starts off, metal phalanges pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head as he looks over at you. For the first time, you can see his eyes in the light. The warm amber feels like a mockery- you have seen his cruelty in action.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Of course he'd say that.

Your fingertips brush against the metaphorical wayward chain link. It's right there. You just have to grab it and pull it back to you, like the anchor of a ship before it can set sail.

He's talking. You aren't listening. He's tracing a finger over the schematics. You don't see it. Realization washes over you in a heart-dropping tsunami. The voicemail you got from Oscorp plays like a broken record in your mind. 'Hello, Y/N. We're calling in regards to your employment status here at Oscorp. Unfortunately, due to a breach of security, we are having to make staffing cuts and are going to have to let you go. We appreciate your time and effort and wish you the best of luck in your next endeavor.' It didn't make sense at the time. A lot of things didn't. You replay the scene of poor David, desperately pleading for his life at the hands of the man hunched over here, just in your living room. You mentally re-run it over and over like bad 80s sitcoms on late night television.

"Lab Coat Guy…"

You don't realize you whispered it out loud until Otto goes silent.

"What?"

You slowly look at him and take a single step backwards, shaking your head. The company embroidered on David's lab coat hadn't been clear to you in the moment- but it's crystal in hindsight. Oscorp. "You got me fired." Your tone is flat, until anger flashes through you, like a streak of lightning through a dark, moonless sky, illuminating all of things that didn’t make sense before.

"It doesn't matter. What I need you to do-" He's so nonchalant, so blasé that it only stokes the embers of frustration until there's a roaring blaze burning beneath your skin. It's all about him, what he needs, what he wants. He has the nerve, the audacity, to keep traipsing into your life, kicking you while you're down and then ask for favors? You want to say all of that to him but unfortunately for you, you're an angry crier. Your outburst of bravery at him the last time you saw each other had surprised even you- but now there's so much more emotion roiling around inside you.

"No. No, no. Fuck you. You got me fired! I can't- I can't not have a job, I have to pay rent! You could get me arrested for just talking to you!" Oscorp had you canned to tie up any potential loose ends before anymore Davids could slip through the cracks. You think about how scared the poor dude must have been, threatened into stealing blueprints from the biggest corporation in the city, for one of the most infamous criminals. You don't know how they found out you were even remotely involved and you don't want to know.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks and once the floodgates have opened you're very familiar with how long it's going to take to close them again. After all you've been bottling this up since you found out, too disappointed to even tell any of your friends or family.

Otto appears taken aback, to say the least. He even looks like he's at a loss for words; that's a first. You know he could kill you where you stand in the blink of an eye, but in that moment you don’t even care. You’ve been trying so hard for so long to get on your feet, to do things for yourself and get away from the past. You moved across the country, you left everything behind, you got a damn dog. It seems like every time you manage to take a step forward in life, you’re knocked flat on your ass, apparently literally sometimes. It isn’t fair. Things don’t come easily to you, you’ve always had to work for them. You aren’t wealthy, you aren’t a supergenius, you’re just… you. The job at Oscorp was good money and you really felt like you were getting your shit together for a while.

“They’re not who you think they are,” he says finally, so calmly, with such carefulness about his words, that you sniffle pathetically and look up at him. He doesn’t look nearly as pleased with himself as you thought he might. And here you’ve been, under the impression that he gets off on hurting people. “Oscorp. I’m not… I’m not just doing this for me. You have to understand that.”

The schematics are furled up and tucked away. You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Maybe it’s just the tears that blur your vision, but you swear you see a softness there before they’re hidden away again by his glasses.

He lingers at the window.

“I hope you’ll reconsider.” And then he was making his exit, even taking care to gently close the window on the way out. But he raps on the glass with his knuckles from where he stands on the fire escape and you know the look of confusion on your tear-streaked face speaks for itself. Otto points to the latches on the window. ‘Lock it.’ He mouths before he’s gone, presumably to wreak havoc and harass other unsuspecting young women that don’t want anything to do with him.

You thought everything had come together- but the more sense you make of it, the less you seem sure of the bigger picture. You aren't even sure exactly what he wanted you to do.

You’re left with an endless bounty of questions, and not enough answers to satisfy any of them.

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