#i feel like a wild animal is chasing me every year

[auspiciouscat]

god i hate the birth of day

[highvern]

Talk

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings:  oral sex/face sitting/69, prone bone, dom/sub dynamics (dom!reader/sub!hoshi),  protected sex, impact play (spanking), mentions of butt stuff but nothing explicit

Length: ~ 4.3k

Note: this ended up way longer than i originally planned... by like 2k but im weak for sub hoshi. realized i accidentally made them schmidt and cece from new girl.... oh well. as always thank u @gyuswhore for suffering my horrible punctuation and EVERYONE HAS TO READ HER UP COMING HOSHI FIC FOR PIRATE HOSHI I DEMAND IT

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], YUCK [f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Soonyoung talks. A lot. 

Sometimes it makes no sense. Like the occasions he calls you after a night out and slurs his words through the speaker as you hum agreement to who knows what until he passes out while still on the line, letting you hear every snore and smack of his lips until you hang up; or when he’s inside you and it's all a bit too much that he has to tell you how good it feels in excruciating detail; or when you both wake up in the morning, you late for work and him trying to talk you into keeping the sheets warm for just a few more minutes, and Soonyoung thinks he’s convinced you but fifteen more minutes really won’t hurt because his apartment is closer to your office anyway.

He talks so much that not hearing his voice the second he opens the door is like a slap in the face.

There's no invitation inside, or lukewarm greeting. The door hangs ajar, Soonyoung already back down the hall in the direction of his room with the expectation you’ll follow. 

You do, but with the same hesitancy you’d approach a wild animal: curious and on edge.

Despite the hour, his roommates aren’t anywhere to be seen. No bodies sprawled across the couch or light under their doors. Their presence never stopped you before but it’s unsettling that there's no buffer of anything to break the storm cloud choking the atmosphere. Just stark exposure to whatever is clearly bothering Soonyoung that he won’t tell you about because, technically, you two don’t do that. Or, he does and you vehemently refuse all of it with less and less authenticity each time.

Soonyoung doesn’t prattle on about his day or ask about yours as you trail behind him. He throws off his shirt without a word, collapses on the edge of the mattress, and roughly pulls you into his lap. It’s cold and unfeeling and exactly the kind of sex you’d enthusiastically participate in a year ago. But nothing like the Soonyoung you’ve grown familiar with over the past few months.

He doesn’t comment on the low cut of your top, falling into the motions without the usual banter. 

You wiggle free from his grasp, trying to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t look at you before taking back up where he left off.

“Stop.” You push him back, trying to get a look at his face but he stays in the crook of your neck. “Stop.”

The silence that follows is loud. He collapses back into the bed, arms curling up to hide away from whatever is chasing him.

“I said I’m fine,” he mumbles.

“Could've fooled me,” you huff.

“Doesn’t matter. Not what you come here for anyway, right?”

A half truth that stings more than you’d like. It sinks in your gut in the quiet dark of his room.

“You know what? Forget I asked, I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” he says, arms attempting to snake around your waist but you’re already up.

“No. You don’t need to be an asshole when I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Because you’re sunshine and rainbows all the time?”

“Did I fucking say I was? If you’ve got a problem with it you’ve had long enough to lose my number.”

“I’m sorry, I just…” he sighs heavily. “Bad day.”

You soften at the break in his voice. Stepping back over, you stand between his legs. He looks small, hunched over with his head in his hands and the weight of the world on his shoulders. The light you’ve come to associate with having him within reach is gone and all that's left is a man you don’t really recognize. He buries his face in the warmth of your stomach, and goes limp as you run a hand across his shoulders.

“Do—” you clear your throat. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Because if Soonyoung is talking there's less chances for you to open your mouth and screw it all up. You don’t know how to be doughy and tender with the same level of ease he possesses. You’ll probably fail trying but it's the least you can do.

It’s uncharted territory; for you, for this, whatever this is because it doesn’t really resemble anything you’ve done before even though the foundation is the same. Because you care about Soonyoung, and he obviously cares about you. But you’re not sure how to let him and even less sure how to return it.

“No.” 

“Okay,” you say, at a loss for what comes next.

Inactivity breeds restlessness. Without any idea how to do this on your own, you default to the steps he took when you were half cooked on your bathroom floor.

Soonyoung eyes you with questions but doesn’t speak as you drag him into the en suite. Bites his tongue as you work off your clothes under the sterile overhead light and then move to work on his; raising his arms when you poke him and managing his pants on his own. He even smiles, or his mouth twitches in a vague allusion to a grin, when you flick water at him after guaranteeing the temperature won’t give you both pneumonia.

Finally tucked behind the shower curtain, he stands dumbly. Not another move to help, content to watch you wash his hair, nails raking over his scalp until he shivers. 

You ignore the prod at your thigh. Focused on letting the warmth of the water do the heavy lifting, you soak a washcloth in soap and lather his skin until it tinges pink. A shampoo mohawk earns a kiss dusted along your shoulders and you might even blush a bit if you weren’t so focused on perfecting the spikes so he looks like one of those 90s alternative poster boys.

Out of the shower, his vow of silence continues. Everything he isn’t saying is clear in his eyes, especially when you slather his face in one of those mud masks, painting him bright green. He’s less intimidating with chunks of clay in his eyebrows.

He isn’t accommodating but he also doesn’t outright refuse which seems to be the best you’re going to get. 

“You look like Shrek,” you snort, satisfied and turning towards the mirror to cover your own face in a matching shade.  

“Well then you're Fiona.” His head comes over your shoulder, chin digging into bare skin to watch you in the mirror. His chest is sticky against your back from steam but you don’t mind if it means he’ll talk to you.

“Actually,” you think, wiggling to face him. “I think you’re more like Donkey.” 

“The dragon fits you better anyway.”

“Are you calling me scary?” you gasp.

“Yes.”

“Good. Remember that next time you want me to suck on your balls.”

He winces. “I can feel them retreating into my body already.”

“Don’t make me laugh, it’ll mess up the mask.”

Without a care for the still drying mess of his face, he takes refuge back in his favorite place. Tucked under your chin, he sighs.

“I’m sorry I was a dick earlier. Work sucked today. I didn’t get a contract I wanted, they picked some other kid at the studio for it. I’ve taught him for years and they picked him over me.”

“I’m sorry.” You placate him with a gentle hand up his back, nails tracing loose patterns as the fan hums over head.

“Not your fault.”

“No, but it still sucks.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles closer, arms heavy around your waist like you’d even think to move away. “It’ll be fine though. He’s a good kid and I couldn’t be mad at him. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Fifteen minutes later, you both wash away the flakes of clay, cracked around the corners of your eyes and mouths, and retreat back under the covers in one set of pajamas split between: you in one of his shirts with nothing underneath, and him in sweatpants with nothing on top. 

Soonyoung insists that Pirates of the Caribbean is his comfort movie, something about Kiera Knightly with a gun being his sexual awakening (which explains a lot), and you let him put it on the tiny screen of his laptop with plans to fall asleep in the first five minutes.

His lips are at your temple, a dull pressure that makes your blood hum. “I always wanted to be a pirate growing up.”

“Really?” you ask, edging towards unconsciousness from the lazy drag of his fingers on your hip.

“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes glued to the screen. “Have my own ship, no rules, a bunch of sexy wenches.”

“Half naked women with scurvy were a part of your career plan?”

“Okay, maybe I added those just now but my point stands.”

The picture of Soonyoung with a scar on his chest and one of those ruffled linen shirts straight off the cover of a dime novel some grandma would read on the train with no shame isn’t that bad. Actually, it’s pretty sexy. But you won’t feed his delusions.

“What point?”

He rolls on top of you, face open with grave seriousness. “We should role play. Me as the hot pirate captain, you as the beautiful princess. Forbidden love, enemies type stuff. You run away from being royal and end up joining my crew. Oh no, Captain Hoshi, I had no idea this was your room! What an impressive sword!” he squeals in a breathy mock of you.

“And then,” you gasp. “you come in five minutes and I convince everyone to throw you overboard?”

“Hurtful. But I’m willing to forgive you if you call me captain. Just once.”

He’s close enough to kiss, lips pouted as he waits for you to give into his demand. A gentle peck bordering on domestic makes him sigh, the taste of toothpaste lingering on his breath. Just as you think you’ve distracted him away from such an ridiculous idea, he leans back with a gleam in his eye that says he’ll wait all night if you make him.

“How about we roleplay falling asleep?” you sigh, eyes closed against his expectant gaze.

“Nope, too late. I’m thinking about you wearing nothing but a pirate hat and now I’m hard.”

He curls right into the meat of your thigh, hot and ready to go if you give the word. Sleep is tempting but the thought of a quick tumble wakes you up enough to entertain him. 

“Alright, but you’re doing all the work,” you sigh. “Take off my clothes, captain.”

Pausing to let the idea settle, he shakes his head. “That’s actually not as hot as I thought it would be.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you fuff. “I’m watching the movie.”

You try to shove him away with zero intent to actually let him go anywhere and end up pinned, fingers in a tight grip around your wrists that you pretend to fight against. Soonyoung knows you like to be reminded of his strength on occasion; whether thats fucking your mouth until your throat burns or bending you over. This potentially being one since he’s had a hard day and you’re hungover from making him feel better about it. 

He tongues across your pulse until you go pliant against the pillows, legs spread to cradle his hips. A shuffle of clothes and a lift of your hips and he’d be inside you. There's more steps; a condom, a little fingering because his dick was made to stretch your limits. Your legs shake already, desperate for quick fuck so you can passout while Soonyoung cleans you up. 

But his new mood means he’s making up for lost time. Presently, that's bunching your shirt up to your chin and tracing each inch of newly uncovered skin with his tongue.

“Hellooooo ladies,” he sighs, nose buried between your breasts.

“God, you’re lame.”

“Be nice to me, I had a hard day,” he pouts, releasing your hands in favor of plucking at your chest until you sigh in delight.

“I’m literally letting you—hmmm— see my boobs after you said that corny shit. How much nicer can I be?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to coax a low groan out of your chest with passes of his mouth until you're kicking the sheets. The good kind of sting that ruts your hips against his thigh and makes you dizzy. There will be a permanent wet patch if he doesn’t give you relief soon.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?” You twitch at the thoughts running rampant. Short of donning that pirate hat mentioned earlier, anything he suggests is guaranteed to make you feel better too. 

“Can show you better than I can tell you,” he bites into your nipple, sucking it to a stiff peak for his fingers to pinch before shifting focus to the other. 

“If you try and put your dick in my ass I’ll rip it off.” The words are breathy off your lips. No real threat because he might be able to talk you into the idea if you let him. If he keeps pulling your strings the way he’s learned how. 

But Soonyoung has different ideas, pulling off your nipple with a rough suck, curling your shoulders in. “That was one time and it was an accident!”

“Let me slip a finger in next time I blow you and tell me how you like it.”

“You have and I do. Keep talking about it and I’m gonna need another shower.”

“God, you’re a freak.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He takes the initiative to roll you on top, palms massaging your ass while enjoying the view of you naked in his lap. 

A sudden moment of vulnerability roots in your chest, warmed by the set of brown eyes peering up at you. “You know I don’t just come here for this, right?” 

Soonyoung’s eyebrows twist for a moment and then soften. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, not ready for anything deeper. The air is already thicker with the weight of that confession, suffocating. In an effort not to drown in it, you drop your chest flat to his, latching onto the jut of his collarbone. “Is this your big idea? Me on top? Not very original.”

A hand at your ass drags you along his covered cock, already begging for attention. It’s not original but you’ll dry hump him into the mattress until your bones are jelly if he wants. 

“Sit on my face.”

It’s your turn to pull back. “What?”

“Sit. On. My. Face.” His hand is already firm against your thighs, forcing you halfway up his chest before you can argue.

“I heard you the first time, just confused how that's supposed to make you feel better.”

“You underestimate the power of your pussy. Now get up here.” 

The shuffle up is less than sexy. Soonyoung is eager from your permission, rushing you up to his mouth until you nearly knee him in the head.

“Wait,” you say. 

Soonyoung locks his arms as you move off him, reflexive because he lets go a second later. Turning, you eye the tent in his pants as you kneel back down. Perfect position to touch him while he touches you.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fingers tracing through your wetness despite the horrible angle.

You don’t get a chance to orient yourself. He’s already quick to work with teasing passes of his tongue that turn bolder every second. 

“Jesus Christ, give me a second to get your dick out.”

But he doesn’t; too consumed with tasting all you have to offer, wringing you out to dry the second he gets a chance. The flat of his tongue laps up your arousal like it’s more vital than oxygen. There's a wet mess smeared between your thighs from the vigor. 

It takes all your focus to force down his pants, mouth watering at the shiny head of his cock straining from some heavy petting. You keep steady with one hand, jerking him off into your mouth with the other. Soonyoung malfunctions between your thighs as you swallow his cock, a moan right to your clit makes you fumble that last inch into your mouth.

He chokes you with a buck up but you take it in stride. Sucking harder, lashing against the slit until he whimpers. Normally, you’d exaggerate the wet noises at the back of your throat but with the crude dig of his tongue in your entrance there's no need. 

“God,” you warble into his crotch. You arch back into his face, Soonyoung’s fingers digging into the meat of your ass, spreading you out like a full course meal.

In theory it’s hot. Your cunt on his face and his cock in your throat, rutting against each other until you're numb and twitching and covered in each other's mess. In practicality, there is nothing Soonyoung is more relentlessly dedicated to than eating you out until your vision turns white and you have to force him away or risk passing out. It only takes a few minutes before you’re forced to tap out, panting into his thigh and weakly fisting his length with no regard for the mess sticking between your knuckles, as he fucks you along his tongue.

“Gonna come, oh–fuck,” you choke. You want him to come too, in your mouth, on your face if that's what he wants. But by some glitch in the universe, Soonyoung is able to hold back and you’re the one racing to the finish first. “Oh my god, Soonyoung, fuck.”

You jerk him off, grip tight despite the slick mess of spit and pre-cum. It doesn’t help that ever squeeze at the swollen head sends a moan straight into your clit, forcing you hips to rut desperately. 

“Don’t stop. Just, shit – need a little more—”

You pull one his hands away to take over your short strokes, spitting into his palm and squeezing until he figures out what you want; to watch him touch himself while eating you out. The contrast of his fingers tangled between your own, both glistening because Soonyoung is just as close as you are, gets you there.

“Close.” Thighs locked, you suffocate him but Soonyoung doesn’t complain. A palm at the base of your spine forces you down when you shy away from the edge. “Oh, oh, oh!”

A sting of your nails into his thigh is all the warning either of you get. Back arched tight, eyes clenched, you shudder through it. Soonyoung doesn’t stop, sucking away the fresh wave of arousal, tongue verging on punishing against your clit as you sink.

“Okay, that's enough—god,” your voice breaks. “Enough.”

You fall to the side, face first into the covers without effort to soften the blow. The lower half of your body is numb but you can feel his hand skating up the back of your calf.

“Good?” he asks, all too aware of the issue; the smirk is clear in his tone, happy to see you strung out from a few minutes on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you warn but the bite isn’t in it. The urge to kick him in the head is there but none of the energy. 

“Are you tapping out on me or…?” 

The sound of the drawer pauses in case you say no but the idea of not feeling him inside you sounds like the worst thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re not that good,” you mumble into the blanket. “Fuck me like this, you promised you’d do all the work. Remember?”

“Like this?” he hums, rubbing the head of his cock back through the mess with admiration. 

He obeys with a wet kiss to your shoulder, parting your legs and sliding between without a word. You soak in the stretch, ass arched into his hips to take it all. The cold bites down your back when Soonyoung leans back to watch.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he whines. “Shit.” 

He drives into you with a bruising pace, betrayed by his own need to come after having you on his mouth without a tease of relief. You arch into it, the head of his cock dragging deep inside pushing disgusting noises from your lips you pray his roommates aren’t around to hear.

“Spank me.”

He loses it for a second. A rough thrust pushing you down the bed and he scrambles to follow. “Seriously?” 

“Do it,” you bark. 

The first strike is weak. More of a firm caress than the sting you crave; hesitant to push for too much too fast lest you take away any privilege he has.

“Harder.”

The next impact comes hard enough to burn an outline of his hand. And another one that makes your tongue feel too big for your own mouth.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” you whine. “More.”

Arms pinned beneath your torso, all you can do is lay there and take it. Nerves gone, he spanks you like it’s second nature. Like he’s thought about it before.

“Good?” he asks. Sounds more like a beg for validation. That he’s the one driving you crazy, molding your insides to his cock until it’s all you can think about.

“So good, f–fuck me so good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes against your neck, a hand wedging beneath your hips to drag against your clit in messy strokes. “You’re so hot, fuck.”

There will be a bruise to hide come morning but you can’t care. The slap of his hips against your ass, the flame of his hand still lingering on your ass, his cock drilling your insides; there's no room for anything but Soonyoung, Soonyoung, Soonyoung.

You arch your back to feel him deeper only to have him pull out completely on the next stroke.

“No!” you protest, racing to keep him inside. 

It’s no use, Soonyoung flips you on your back before you can convince him otherwise. He hooks your knees over his elbows, spreading you wide and driving home in one smooth push with his teeth at your neck.

“Gonna come,” he begs, voice weak. You know his game, what makes him tick and come so hard he goes blind.

“Not yet,” you warn. A rough twist in his hair only works against his thinning resolve and that's exactly why you pull harder until his hips kick into a jilted rhythm.

“I can’t – please – I can’t—”

“Not yet,” you gasp. He’s deep, right in the back of your throat making you foggy. “Be a g–good boy and wait until I tell you.”

Hips frantic, voice cracking, he tries to hold off; knows it's better when you tell him exactly what to do. Makes him choke into your chest.“Fuck, fuck!” 

“Tell me how bad you want it. How much you love this pussy.”

“Love it, love your pussy.” He folds in half on top of you, desperate. Every drive of his cock into your center forcing your own desperate noises out. “Please let me come for you.”

“Look at me,” you demand. The command in your voice is paper thin but you're both too lost. His eyes are glassy, frantic to do whatever you ask if it means he can come. “Beg for it.”

“P–please,” he whimpers through gritted teeth. “Please let me come. Need it, wanna come. Please. Please!”

He’s too good to edge. Perfectly pliant to any demand and it makes you want to give him whatever he wants. “Give it to me. Fuck me through it. Let me feel you come for me.”

He latches onto your breast, sucking your nipple as his hips turn sloppy. The squeak of mattress springs are a sound track to his end. You won’t come again but you don’t need to. Satiated with the choked whimpers of your name as he swells against your walls, forcing himself as deep as possible like he’s fucking you raw and full of his cum.

Maybe someday you’ll let him.

Your hips are sore from being forced in half so long but you won’t move away until Soonyoung comes back down. Less from your own will power, more because you’re running on fumes and might fall asleep with him still inside you. He gives a few more pathetic twitches and then goes slack.

“Oh my god,” he groans. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“Welcome to the club,” 

With the grand finale complete, your aching muscles give out completely. You can’t even laugh when one of his hands moves to check your pulse.

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung gasps. “I killed you with my dick.”

“You didn’t kill me.” You slap away his hand weakly. Without distraction, the stickiness of your skin from sweat in the worst places settles in but it’s a problem for later.

“A man can dream,” he says wistfully.

“Of homicide by cock?”

“Of dick game strong enough to murder someone.”

He rubs his nose along yours, breathes mingling in a lazy kiss as exhaustion creeps over your both. 

“Your face smells like pussy.” You slouch into the mattress, deadweight while taking all of his like the perfect blanket.

He kisses you again, tongue teasing at your lips until you give the very real threat of teeth against it and he backs away. “Your mouth tastes like cock so I guess we’re even. C'mon we need to shower again.”

“Nooooooo,” you grumble, clinging to him in an effort to delay the chill waiting to invade between you.

“At least let me get a rag.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, locked at the ankle for dramatic effect. “If you pull out I’ll cry.”

“Words every man wants to hear,” he hums into your cheek with a kiss. “But my dick is sore and we both need to sleep.”

“Fine.”

When he pulls away you feel empty; devastatingly so. But you don’t ask him to comeback. Just pout at the loss and revel in placating pampering you receive in return.

He goes through the steps with familiarity. Wiping away the mess between your legs, tossing your shirt back up from the floor but you forgo it, choosing to sleep naked much to Soonyoung’s delight.

You use his chest as a pillow, curled into his side and tucked under his chin. The steady beat of his heart lulls you off. The last thing you register, on the hazy perimeter at the edge of sleep, is his fingers at your cheek and the ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

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© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Favors and Debts

Part I

Pairing: fae!Yuji/Sukuna x reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, murder, captivity, stalking, violence (not towards reader), Sukuna having a purity kink.

Words: 1.6k

Summary: Of all creatures fickle and cruel, the fair folk are the ones inspiring fear and awe alike. You were unlucky enough to save one of them from captivity, and now you must pay for it.

________________

"Please, leave me be," your whisper is so quiet you barely hear yourself speak, but it's enough for the monster to bare his teeth at you in a smile.

"No," he says simply and then charges at you like a wild animal, forcing a scream out of your throat as you run and run and run until you are facing a dead wall blocking your path.

His sharp smile grows wider the closer he steps to you.

Then you wake up with a gasp, face wet with tears and cold sweat as you clench the sheets in your fingers, choking from horror. It's him again. The fae boy you saved years ago, the one who pays you back with fear and pain and nightmares. He doesn't visit you every night, not when you keep taking your sleeping pills religiously, but they are a serious thing, and your stomach keeps hurting more and more over the years, forcing you to take lesser doses. That's when the fae boy strikes, slipping into your dreams like water seeps through a crack of an old, chipped cup.

It's the same dream over and over again: he chases you down the city as you run for your life like a prey followed by predator, blinded by fear while he taunts you, his six long, muscular arms nearly catching you every time. It feels like every night he allows you to escape, but you don't think it's entirely true. Your iron and your mirrors must be keeping you safe: after all this time, he hadn't come for you yet.

You were young back then, so naive, so pure. You finally received a long-awaited recommendation letter from the head pharmacist to be allowed to work in a tiny village down south, nearly at the Drowned Forest border. You were, by far, not a superstitious girl, and the rumors didn't scare you. You were, though, quite worried about being among the simple, rural folk who weren't keen on trusting a young city girl with making their medication: truth be told, women in those places had only ever had one purpose in life, and it had nothing to do with a medical career or any career at all.

And yet, you were welcomed to the place. The villagers were desperate since it took at least several days to drive to the closes town to procure the medication of any serious kind, and they were in great need of someone who'd serve as a doctor and a pharmacist, even if it was just a young girl who had only gotten her recommendation letter.

But it was an unfriendly, cold, half-abandonded sort of place. Likewise, you didn't like its people who were always too crude, too vulgar to your taste, their gazes always lingering too long on you when they thought you didn't see, and you could barely stand the almost-casual touches of men who seemed to think you couldn't see beneath their polite facade. "They're simple folk," the head pharmacist would say, shaking his head after you pleaded with him to give you a letter of recommendation. "You won't appreciate their way of life, and you don't have to. Why do you want to go there so badly if you can continue working as my junior pharmacist? You can make a name for yourself here."

You were stupid back then. You wanted to prove yourself so desperately you thought nothing of his gentle warning, rushing headlong in what you thought your first grown-up adventure that turned out to be a nightmare haunting you to this day.

At first, despite your unease towards the village folk, it all was new and exciting. You were the head pharmacist! The only one for miles and miles. People spoke about you with respect, or so you thought. You were crafting medication day and night, and nearly everyone was coming to your door religiously every couple of days. You enjoyed the welcomed weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

It wasn't until a month passed that the villagers finally let you meet a scrawny pink-haired kid by the name of Yuji, who was some sort of an apprentice. Whose apprentice was he? The men all laughed when you asked them, looking smug as they claimed he was apprenticing for every master in the village.

What an odd thing to say, you thought, furrowing your brows. How could one boy be an apprentice to all of them?

Of course, he wasn't. He was a fae boy they have somehow captured and kept prisoner, making him do all sorts of manual labor because they knew his true name.

At first, you thought it was nothing but a shameful lie to keep a fatherless young man chained to his captors to make their bidding. Yuji was just a boy. He was young and smiley and helpful despite the abuse he had to endure every day, the villagers giving him the thoughest jobs under the pretense of his immense fairy powers. Where was he from? Why had no one tried to stop people from treating him so unfairly? He wasn't a caged animal. Yuji was a human being.

But then the blacksmith once handed him an iron girdle, a wicked smirk on his lips, and you saw the horror and pain reflected on Yuji's face when his fingers touched the metal, his palm immediately growing red as if the iron was still hot. He wailed, dropping the girdle on the ground while the blacksmith laughed at him like it was a joke of some kind, and you, caught off guard by such casual display of cruelty, ran to the boy to have a look at his injured hand.

He was, indeed, a fae. The iron to him was alike acid to humans, burning his flesh at the slightest touch.

The discovery shook you to the core, at one point making you question your sanity, but in that moment you were so preoccupied with the boy's injury you were more focused on helping him alleviate the pain and bandage his poor hand than worry about his fairy nature. Regardless of what villagers said, Yuji was gentle and proper. He didn't deserve such horrible treatment.

With every day, you grew more and more anxious, watching him casually bullied and hurt by the village folk for their own amusement. They made him touch iron, look into the mirrors that somehow brought him immense pain, forced him to work till sunset and even at night, and refused him food from to time. It was unbearable to watch a young boy being treated that way. It was no wonder you developed so much compassion and pity for him, soon sneaking in the hovel where he was allowed to sleep to feed him or bring him medication for his injuries. He was such a lovely boy, so bright and kind and sensitive, that it took you just a couple more weeks to agree to his plea to help him get out of this wicked place.

How could you have known of his true nature? You were but a naive, pure young girl. It was a given you were easy to manipulate, to be taken advantage of. A disaster waiting to happen.

You didn't even believe in the fair folk when you had first arrived in that god-forsaked village, but in a couple of months you took up on a quest to find another fae in the Drowned Forest and bring him to Yuji to set him free. When you think of it now, it's such a miracle you stayed alive. Walking straight into the Drowned Forest... what were you thinking back then? How could you be so stupid? That journey could have cost you your life, but you grew too desperate to protect Yuji against villagers' abuse.

Back then, you weren't sure how you stumbled upon another fae so fast, barely minutes into the charmed forest, but now you know he had been waiting for you. Yuji was biding his time because he knew one day a girl like you would appear and do what she could to free him. He was well-prepared, and you were eager to be deceived.

You didn't know what to expect from that exciting but inherently dangerous affair, and yet you didn't think the fae to just slaughter them all, all the human folk of the village. You heard them scream. Luckily, Yuji locked you in the barn where he used to sleep, and you avoided looking at the bloodshed, but their desperate, horryfying cries have been your constant companions for many years to come. You still hear them sometimes when you sleep.

When the menacing black-haired fae from the Drowned Forest grew in size, the marks on his forehead shining in the dark, claws elongating meyond measure, Yuji forced you into his barn, his usually gentle expression morphing into something sinister. He looked at you with mad glee, his fangs elongating, two arms splitting into six like he was mutating right in front of your very eyes, and as you crawled back, suddenly realizing the villagers were right about him, he cornered you, caging you with his large, muscular body, strange symbols engraved into his skin.

"A woman like you captured me," he whispered softly as you shook violently beneath him. "She was a clever little fox, and I lusted after her like a fool, letting her trick me into submission. All those years I spent like a dog on a chain... But I knew a woman like her would set me free."

________

His hand brushed a lock of your hair away from your face, and with the other one he took you by the chin, forcing you to look up at him, "Seven years I've waited in my cage, little bird. Seven years I'll give you to live your mundane life before I come for you."

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: all his life, zoro had been dragging you away from danger. but sometimes, you just slip through his fingers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x sister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, reader is zoro's sister, fluff before the angst, canon typical violence, death, can be interpreted as both anime and live action zoro, apparently all i do is angst now 🥰

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: fine line, instrumental

For as long as Zoro could remember, he’d been the one looking after you. Day and night, he watched your every move, ensuring you didn’t do anything stupid. Doing stupid stuff just happened to your favorite hobby. It was taxing keeping you out of trouble, sure, but Zoro was all you had left, so despite only being a year your elder, he took it upon himself to care for you.

But he was so young, and you were so… unhelpful.

Reckless. Wild. Unthinking. A menace, that’s what you were. Zoro could barely even blink before he was dragging you away from a cliff’s watery edge by your ear. 

“But Zoro!” you whined. 

“But nothing,” he gritted.

You grew more restless by the hour, it seemed, always trying to tug him along on an adventure you swore would be worth his time. Zoro relented most days, if only to keep you alive (Because he’d never admit your adventures were actually fun).

Zoro supposed your habit of wandering off wasn’t so bad. You were the whole reason he’d found the dojo in Shimotsuki Village, after all, having wandered so far you reached another end of the island for him to chase you to. Besides, he was in no place to talk; he got lost just as easily, if not more.

Difficult didn’t do the feeling of trying to keep up with you justice, and it only grew harder the older the pair of you got. 

“Come on, Zoro!” you pleaded, gripping his hand.

“I’m busy,” he muttered, shrugging you off.

He spent his days studying the blade, and you were left to your own devices until an old tutor got her hands on you, teaching you mathematics and literature day in and day out. Every night before bed you complained and complained, whining that you’d much rather be running around the pastures or, better yet, training with Zoro.

But there was an ever-widening gap between you and your brother, even if you didn’t see it just yet. In your eyes, things were just the same as always, but your brother was headed on a very different path. 

He would go down in history, no doubt. Your tutor and most of the village agreed. And you… well, no one knew what to make of you. You were simply there most days. 

And as days came and went, Zoro paid less and less attention to you. It used to be easy to distract him into playing make believe, pretending to be pirates battling over treasure, but then he and Kuina made their vow, and Zoro threw himself further into his training.

And you, more interested in pretending than actually fighting, fell behind.

All you’d wanted to do was play with him and Kuina, but Zoro seemed adamant on being mean that day.

“We’re not playing,” he snarled back at you. “We’re training. Go play with someone else.”

You huffed and tried to stomp on his foot, missing by an inch. “Nobody here likes me! And I can train too!”

“Really?” Zoro scoffed. “You can barely even walk without tripping.”

Kuina stood off to the side, waiting for her friend to join her again, when she’d had enough of his sour tone. “Zoro, don’t be cruel.” Her sharp eyes roamed to you. “If you go find a training sword, we’ll let you come with us.”

Your whole face lit up, nodding quickly as you set off at a sprint to the dojo. Zoro groaned and turned to glare at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Kuina snapped, gripping his wrist and dragging him back down the path. “Now we have a head start.”

A few minutes later, you rushed back to where you’d left Kuina and Zoro, a training sword in hand, and briefly tripped over a raised stone. When you lifted your head, smiling brightly, they were gone, far off into the forest to train alone.

Some of the other kids from the dojo walked past, heading inside, when they spotted her. One leaned into the other, whispering just loud enough for you to hear: “Pathetic. Does she not have a life?”

Your lips curled into a frown and you threw down the sword, gritting your teeth.

Zoro apologized later, of course, eventually feeling bad when he came home to find you sulking in the corner. He promised he’d teach you how to wield a sword someday, which did wind up dragging a little smile out of you. Yet, that day never came. Weeks and months went by and Zoro drifted further and farther away. 

But you just couldn’t let him go, nagging and nagging and nagging.

“Can I train with you and Kuina today?” you asked, meeker than usual. You figured you knew the answer, but still, you had the nerve to hope. 

But then Zoro shifted awkwardly, hesitating to answer, and you just wanted to go back to your books. You’d gotten a new one recently, about the ocean and its mystery. 

“Listen,” he started. “I’ll play with you when we get back, okay?”

Your jaw set. Usually, you backed down pretty quick. You respected yourself enough to not chase after him all day. Today was different, though. Today was your birthday. “I don’t want to play. I want to train to be strong like you and Kuina.”

“Then I’ll train with you later.” 

He was gone the next moment, kicking up dust as he left you all alone. You wanted to hate him, since hating was usually so easy for you, but you couldn’t. 

Zoro was all you had left.

But he had someone else besides you, someone he much preferred to spend his time with: Kuina.

You found it was much easier to hate Kuina.

You weren’t at all subtle either. From little jabs to plain glaring, Kuina got the message. To your great disdain, she found it funny, cute even.

It was your obvious dislike of her that eventually brought her to give you the time of day, approaching you whilst you were reading.

“Good book?” came the voice of your arch nemesis. 

Glaring up at her, you pushed your reading glasses up your nose and shifted away from her, refusing to respond.

Her breathy laugh only spoiled your evening further. “I take that as a no…?”

“Leave me alone, Kuina.” 

Instead, she sat down beside you, leering over your shoulder to see what you were reading. “History? Sounds… fun.” You shifted away from her, and she followed. “Do those glasses really help?”

You snapped your book shut just as she reached to touch the page, nearly getting her finger. “I don’t know why Zoro likes you so much. You’re annoying.”

She grinned at you like you’d fallen right into her trap. “Is that why you don’t like me? ‘Cause Zoro won’t hang out with you anymore?”

As if she wasn’t infuriating enough, she was also very right. You jumped to your feet and glowered down at her. “You know what your problem is?”

She was standing in an instant, towering over you with that damn smile. “You gonna tell me, Roronoa?”

“Yeah!” You clenched your fists and grit your teeth. “You’re—You’re a brother stealer!”

“A brother stealer?” She had the nerve to laugh. “Please. We’re training to be the greatest swordsman or swordswoman in the world.”

You exasperated, “So?”

“So,” she said, “I’m not trying to steal your brother. But I can help you steal him back.”

Breathing heavily, you slowly lost your fire, confusion washing over your face. “What?”

Kuina shrugged. “I’ll train with you.”

Sputtering, “And why would I wanna train with you?”

“Because I’m the only one here who can beat Zoro.” She leveled her gaze with yours, something evil in that smirk of hers. “You wanna impress him? Train with me.”

“I…” She was serious. You’d seen the hard look in her eyes before; it’s how she looked right before she kicked somebody’s ass. You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

That was how it started. An hour before Zoro was up, early before the sun, you and Kuina got to work. You were a tough student, with a spitfire attitude akin to your brother’s and all the clumsiness he lacked. 

When you tried to quit, Kuina advanced with her sword two times as fast, forcing you to block and parry like she knew you could. 

Months went by, and Zoro was all too unaware. You and Kuina had done a good job of keeping up pretenses, sharing secretive grins when Zoro’s back was turned. The one time he nearly found you out was when Kuina’s sword nicked your arm, and Zoro found you haphazardly trying to bandage it up. His line of questioning was rapid fire, panicked in every sense of the word as he did it for you.

Then, Kuina caught you by surprise; she said you were ready, and no amount of frantic head shaking would make her think otherwise. 

You didn’t have a real sword, you said, showing her your wooden practice weapon as if to prove it.

She’d simply given you that damn smirk and swapped the wood for her own sword. All breath left you as she closed your hand around her family sword. 

That was all the encouragement you needed, and she left you standing outside your little home to get ready for her training session with Zoro. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon. You could barely hear the sound of Zoro rustling around inside the house behind you, and your fist tightened around the hilt of Kuina’s prized sword.

Zoro briefly wondered why you’d gotten out of bed so early when he noticed your blanket tossed aside, you nowhere in sight. You must be playing somewhere else, he decided, finally ready as he headed outside.

You were certainly not what he expected to find waiting for him. Your hands were held behind your back, your eyes ever like a does. A sigh dragged out of him as he approached you, meaning to walk right by you like he usually did.

“I’ll play with you later—”

In a blink, the shining edge of a blade was in his path. Stumbling back he followed the blade to that familiar hilt, now held by his little sister. The doe eyes were gone, replaced by a serious gaze he was unaccustomed to.

“What about now?” You retracted the sword and took a battle position, arcing the blade around before placing both hands on the hilt. 

He backed away from you, crossing his arms, not wanting his hands to be anywhere near the hilts of his blades. “I’m not fighting you.”

That only spurred you on. “You don’t have a choice.”

There was a wary look in his eyes before you surged forth to begin the duel. Kuina stood off to the side, eyes alight, and helped you dust off your clothes when Zoro inevitably knocked you to the dirt in a matter of minutes.

Your chest heaved as you leaned on Kuina, eyes dangerously narrow. You refused to look at Zoro.

“You’ve been training her?” Zoro guessed, not sounding angry or frustrated… just confused, and maybe sad.

Kuina nodded. “We’ve been working, yeah. She’s good, right?”

The compliment meant nothing. Humiliation coursed through your veins, the Wado Ichimonji burning through your skin. 

“Whatever,” you murmured, shoving Kuina’s sword back into her hands before stomping off into the woods.

Zoro watched you go, unable to ignore when Kuina bumped his shoulder and said, “She admires you. It’s about time you give her the time of day.”

So he trudged after you, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say.

Zoro wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were good. Far better than he remembered you being. Kuina was probably a better teacher. More patient, most likely.

But… he couldn’t help but wish it’d been him to train you up to be able to wear him out like you did. Zoro swallowed that thought and settled on finding you first, and having regrets later.

He found you sitting on a patch of grass, wiping at your damp face. Zoro made you cry. and he had the sense this wasn’t the first time.

Some brother he was.

So he ditched his hesitation and settled down on the grass beside you, testing the waters. You didn’t sprint off into the brush, so he took that as a good sign.

“What do you want?” you said first.

“I… You did well. Really well.” He pulled at some grass, ripping it apart. “I’m sorry I’ve been…”

“An asshole?” you supplied. “A major dick? A stick in the mud?” 

Zoro huffed a laugh. “All of the above?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, turning away, going serious again. “I didn’t beat you.”

“Did you expect to?” Your huffy silence was answer enough. “Y/N, I’ve been training for years.”

Your eyes found him then, all slits and sadness. “And I haven’t, yeah, I know. Why’s that, ya think?”

He ruffled slightly. “You could have joined us in the dojo.”

“Like hell I could have. I’ve said it before—those kids don’t like me. Besides, it’s your thing. You would have found some reason I should quit.” 

Did he really make you feel that way? Zoro felt it was fair, all the times he’d brushed you off coming to mind, and he grimaced. Then, he started to think. “Why do you want to learn to fight? I didn’t think that was your thing.”

You took your time to answer, tugging at your own grass and tossing it into the wind. “I hate being left behind. I thought if I could impress you, you’d… you’d play with me again.”

Hearing that made Zoro feel so much worse. The pair of you might be getting older, but at the end of the day, you just wanted to be around him. Zoro let the silence hang in space between you for a few moments, before he rolled to the side and swiped a long stick on the ground.

Your confused eyes followed him, widening when he pointed the stick at you. Zoro grinned and started to poke at you, causing you to scramble back on the grass. 

“Stand and fight, pirate!” he bellowed. 

Immediately, you jumped to your feet, an exhilarated smile popping onto your face. You dodged left and took up your own stick sword, holding it in front of your face as you circled your brother.

Who were you today? A fellow pirate? A pirate confronting a marine admiral? Perhaps you were brother and sister pirates, crossing paths after years of pursuing the other for vengeance. Whatever make believe you and Zoro were in today, you relished in it, knowing someday you’d have to accept the fate of growing up.

So for now, you fought your brother in the only way you were equals: pretending, your imagination spinning circles around his as his skill spun around yours.

Zoro had missed you, he realized. Being so caught up in being better for you, in being the one to make you proud, he forgot how fun simply existing alongside you could be. 

So he followed you deep into the woods, tripping over his own feet and grunting at your lofty laughter. You led him up hills and through brush, up trees and back down, and all around the island till Zoro couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you saw in the forest that he didn’t.

“That girl is wild,” your tutor said once. “It’s like she’s more at home in the trees.”

She said it in some kind of scornful way that mothers do, when they’re half upset and half in reluctant wonderment. He had to agree with the old woman, for if Zoro couldn’t find you, chances were he’d discover you in the forest, atop a rock or up in a tree.

Oftentimes, if it wasn’t Zoro clinging to the lower branches while you laughed at him, Kuina was with you. Neither of you had ever wanted for a sister, but neither of you were exactly complaining either. 

Zoro stood with his hands planted on his hips, head tilted back and still not exactly able to see where you and Kuina sat giggling amidst the branches of the ancient oak tree. 

“Y/N!” he shouted, hoping his voice would at least reach you. “Come down!”

“No!” you laughed back down. A few leaves trickled down, and a pang jerked Zoro’s heart around. How high up were you?

“It’s not safe!”

Kuina rolled her eyes. “Says you! We’re fine!”

He hardly believed her, his nails starting to dig into his palms. “C’mon! It’s gettin’ dark!”

You looked toward the horizon line, spotting the sun just as she dipped behind the mountains. Instantly, you were entranced, aching to join her. The wind whistled in your ears, as it often did, and you leaned forward just a bit. 

“He’s right,” Kuina huffed. “My dad will be mad if I get home after dark.” When you didn’t reply, she tried to catch your faraway gaze. “Y/N?”

Despite your hummed acknowledgment, your eyes were shut, a pleasant grin pulling at your face. Air tickled your cheeks, ruffling your hair, sending you the scent of miles away cherry blossoms.

You could have sat in that tree all night and into the next, but Kuina was tugging on your arm, dragging you out of the moment. You blinked like you were awakening from a deep slumber. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s time to go home,” said Kuina. 

“Oh. Right.”

You descended the tree without much thought, finding purchase for your feet and hands to grip as if the tree was reaching out to catch you, whereas Kuina very nearly fell to the ground more than once. Zoro awaited at the bottom of the tree, arms crossed and brows taut.

He watched as you grinned, eyes somewhere else entirely, and trotted back to the village all merry-like. Kuina plopped to the grass beside him, teetering on her feet before he caught her arm. 

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I don’t know how she does it so naturally.”

Zoro thought back to what the old tutor once told him. It’s like she’s more at home in the trees. “I dunno. It’s… cool, though.”

You were cool, he meant to say, but wouldn’t ever say it out loud. His little sister, who could catch fish with her bare hands and find four leaf clovers like they were nothing, was very much cool in his eyes.

He thought it again that night, when Kuina joined them for dinner with food her father had prepared, and you lurched forward to tuck a forget-me-not behind Kuina’s ear. 

“These don’t grow on the island,” Kuina pointed out. You simply grinned, like you had some secret nobody else could understand.

Kuina became just as important to you as she was to Zoro. Which is why her accident was such a travesty.

Out of the whole entire village, it hit Zoro the hardest. You would know his look of pure, unadulterated shock till the end of your days. Zoro was beside himself, and you were no better. With your only other friend gone, you had no one to lean on.

Zoro only thought of the blade—of his vow to Kuina—leaving you to mourn and dwell and be all alone. You tried to be bitter, you really did, even going to the lengths of hiding all his clean clothes just so he would talk to you, but you were still terrible at being angry with Zoro. (When all Zoro did was exist in his dirtier-by-the-day clothes, you didn’t know whether to be angry or just plain sorry for him. You settled on both).

You tried to confront him, talk to him, anything, but all he’d done was sigh and say, “Just… go read, or something. It’s good for you.”

Like you’d listen to a word he said… but reading was all you could do. It was how you winded up back on your tutor’s door step with a ducked chin and folded arms. She pursed her lips, setting a hand under your chin, cupping your face as she beckoned you inside. Each day you poured over texts and tomes till Shimotsuki Village was completely dry of new literature.

The old woman taught you till she died. Despite how life had fled your eyes, she called you Wild till her last day. “You can’t stay,” she said in her dying breath. “Wild things never last here.”

Like you’d ever think of leaving Zoro. 

But soon came the day when Zoro, like you, could learn no more from that village. You assumed the pair of you would set out together now that your paths led you away from home. Zoro had other plans.

Three swords rested at Zoro’s hip, one heartachingly familiar with its white hilt and glimmering blade. He was hunched over a bag, collecting supplies from your little home. 

“So that’s it?” you spoke into the tense silence. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to fulfill my promise to…” He didn’t finish, her name hanging in the air. “We always knew I’d leave one day.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, daring him to admit he was abandoning you. 

Instead, he closed his satchel and stood, back still facing you. “Sensei promised he’d look after you.”

“Even if I wasn’t already an adult,” you snarled. “I don’t want your sensei. I want my brother.”

Your eyes glistened with tears behind your readers, still sat on the bridge of your nose from where you’d been annotating the last of your tutor’s dusty books. He glanced up, catching your eye, and immediately returned his gaze to the floor. 

“I need to become the world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro said as he walked past you, brushing shoulders with you before he stopped just at the door. “For Kuina. And I need to do it alone.”

Catching your breath, you shook your head at him. “No. All my life I’ve been so patient with you. I’ve forgotten every time you forgot me, everytime you were mean to me—I let it all go! You—You don’t get to let me go. That’s not how this works, Zoro!” 

You felt hysterical, tears streaming down your face. And all Zoro could do was stare at the ground.

“You’ll understand someday.”

Hot anger boiled beneath your skin, making you warm all over. Your cheeks burnt and your hands balled into fists. You folded your arms over your chest to keep from lashing out at him with the fury of a sister scorned. 

You would never understand. 

He breathed shakily. “I… love you, Y/N.”

It was like a bullet to your heart. You peered over your shoulder to find his back just over the threshold of the door, one hand on his three swords and the other rested on the doorframe. You hadn’t stood up to Zoro in many years, mostly because he hadn’t given you reason to. Until now.

“You really are stupid.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” you snarled, sweeping over to your desk and grabbing your ready-and-packed satchel. Wiping your nose and eyes on your sleeve, you steeled yourself and swallowed up all your cries. “Where are we headed?”

You turned, adjusting the satchel on your shoulder, and lifted your gaze to your brother, who had turned to stare at you. Faltering, you tried to gauge what Zoro was thinking, what had always been an impossible task. Zoro had never looked at you like this before, his eyes void of any hostility or pity or annoyance. For a moment, he wasn’t an apprentice or a swordsman, nor was he Kuina’s legacy.

He was Zoro, the brother who could have hung the stars with how much you believed in him. 

And for a moment, Zoro wasn’t looking at his baby sister, helpless in every sense of the word, desperate to prove herself—Zoro saw what Kuina had, once upon a time; a warrior more mind and spirit than strength, the force of a thousand soldiers behind her puffy red eyes.

It was terrifying, to say the least. You weren’t so little anymore, and he didn’t feel so big anymore. 

“First,” he grumbled. “We’re getting you a sword.”

Your eyes shined, not from tears (he was glad you still had your wonder intact). “And second?”

“We’re going after Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Standing at the docks a while later, preparing to depart, you nudged his shoulder to catch his fleeting attention. The silence had been tense all evening. Your grin was soft and unsure as you mumbled, “I love you too, by the way.” Zoro ruffled, nodding, and you pressed on with a smirk. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Sure I have,” he countered, but you shook your head.

“Nope. Never. But that’s okay.” You turned to stare at the ground, the captain of the ship taking you away starting toward the pair of you. “I’ve never said it either.”

And in the underbelly of that big merchant ship, sitting on the small cots allotted to you for the journey, you lifted your gaze to lock him in place. “Let’s make a promise.”

Zoro stilled, setting his swords beside him as he met your gaze. He wasn’t opposing the idea, so you pressed on, presenting your pinky to him. Zoro had the nerve to scoff. “Don’t laugh. This is a sacred ritual.”

Rolling his eyes, Zoro rested his arms on his knees, reaching to interlock his pinky with yours. A smile tugged at your face. “What’s our promise?”

You hummed, not having thought that far ahead, before getting excited again. “I promise to stay by your side. No matter how much of an idiot you are.”

For a while, he said nothing, staring at your hands in the space between you. He started to speak, thought better of it, before pressing on. “That’s a big promise. Sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “If I do, I’ll just break my pinky.”

He blinked, trying hard not to let his smirk through, and he laughed despite himself. “Fine. I promise I won’t abandon you. Ever. No matter how much a menace you are.”

Satisfied, you retracted your pinky, letting your eyes flutter shut. You yawned and laid on the less than comfy cot, and were out like a light in minutes. Zoro stayed awake at your side all night, hyper aware of every motion all around, threatening each thing that creeped in the dark recesses with a single glare. 

For you, this was a dream. The world was your playground, an adventure just like the ones you’d read about. On the contrary, Zoro was stressing. You had this penchant for getting into trouble, always finding danger wherever you went. 

Tiffs between you and your brother were never far away, but unlike when you were younger, these fights lacked a certain fire, almost as if neither of you cared to pick at the other anymore. That realization was odd, to say the least. It was almost like the pair of you were growing up.

Word quickly spread across the East Blue about the Pirate Hunter Zoro, so deadly they took to calling him a demon… and then there was you. People tended to ignore girls, looking over your head and not caring to lower their voices when you lurked nearby. You were Zoro’s main informant, picking up on locations and secrets before your targets had any clue they were being hunted.

And as weeks flew by, you and Zoro found a new kind of camaraderie; respect. After years, it looked like Zoro was finally respecting you as an equal. As a friend.

You had quite the temper, never backing away from a threat, mostly because you knew your big brother was behind you. You don’t like the price for those apples? The vendor isn’t willing to barter? You're cursing their mother and demanding a fair price, and just as the vendor is reaching for a knife there appears this giant of a man, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You always get the price you want.

Zoro liked to shine and sharpen and clean his swords himself, but one day he was so tired he fell asleep while doing the first one. He woke up to all three glittering up at him. You said it was no problem, and went out of your way to get to the task before he did each time. 

Your habit of climbing trees returned, and with it a newfound love for scaling buildings as well. Zoro’s not sure how he doesn’t have a head full of gray hairs, but he feels for sure it's coming.

Still, despite your insistence on remaining a menace (he’s certain it’s on purpose), Zoro was happy you’re with him. Things nearly reached a new kind of normal; he hunted the pirates, you helped him, you both got paid. 

But he saw how restless you became, always itching for the next adrenaline hit. Somewhere inside, Zoro feared the day you’d get so restless you turned back to recklessness. Mostly, he feared he wouldn’t be there to save you in time. 

Zoro’s footsteps were ghostly, not a sound coming from him as he slinked up the gangway of the little pirate ship. His bandana was tight around his head, two of his swords brandished and at the ready. On his left, a pirate stood guard and was swiftly knocked out by a blow to his skull.

A routine operation, sure to bring in enough beri to get you and Zoro to the next island over. Maybe you’d even have enough left over for some decent food, he pondered, turning and laying eyes on the door to the lower decks. 

It should have been a routine operation, but the moment he stepped into the winding halls of that ship, the pirates were all over him, coming at him left and right. They drove him back up to the main deck, landing blows against his three swords yet never getting through his defenses. 

But if he stayed on the defense, he doubted he’d actually find an opening to get the hell outta there. Zoro swiped his swords in an arc to drive the horde of them away just long enough to make a break for the docks, but a gunshot rang true, whizzing past his head before he could take a step.

He whipped around and found the man he’d intended to murder in his sleep, and drag his body back without ever alerting the crew. The captain reloaded his pistol, a maniacal grin splitting his face. 

“Roronoa Zoro,” the man drawled, stepping down from the stern of the ship. “Your reputation precedes you.”

He blinked up at him, readjusting his hold on his swords. “Sorry, who the fuck are you?”

The smile dropped instantly. “Only the man who will end your sorry life, pirate hunter.”

Zoro scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

He heard it, but it was so soft he tried to convince himself he was delusional; but then it got louder, till he heard the sound of feet bounding up the gangway as his blood ran cold, and there you were, shouting his name, your sword held before you.

“Zoro,” you gasped, ignoring everything else as you gazed upon him with wild eyes. “It’s—It’s a trap.”

The captain’s laugh was like a ringing in his ear. Zoro’s stare was zeroed in on you, begging you to run away, horror flooding his senses. No. No. No.

“A little too late, kid,” the captain bellowed, slinging around his pistol and eyeing you predatorily. “Here to die with the hunter?”

Zoro’s heart dropped when you spat at the ground, shooting the captain a glare. The man growled, nodding at his awaiting crew. “Take care of her. I’ll take Roronoa.”

You had lunged before Zoro could do a thing, clashing your blade against your opponents and dodging each strike with ease. Zoro made to run to you when a sword swiped through the air and caught his arm, forcing him to face the captain of the ship.

A routine. This was meant to be a routine. You were meant to be safe at the little inn, awaiting his return with a gripy comment about having woken you up, despite knowing fully well you’d been up the whole time. 

But you were here, fighting for your life against ten or so men twice your size. You could only hold them off for so long. Zoro set his jaw and set his third sword between his teeth, taking on the slimy excuse for a captain. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, muffled around the hilt of his blade. “Get out of here!”

“No!” you shouted right before wincing as you took a wrong step and twisted your ankle, attempting to walk it off as you evaded being skewered. 

His eyes followed you, spying a pirate jumping down from the stern. Zoro sprinted away from his own fight, vaulting over you and decapitating the pirate, landing on the deck in a roll. You heaved, awestruck, and giggled despite it all.

Zoro stood, eyes dark as a demon’s, and looked right at you. It was as if the sun was held captive in your eyes, even now. A spot of blood seeped into your shirt, and he parried three men’s attacks to reach you. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, your back to Zoro’s as you drove back another blow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known something was up.”

“Don’t—” he kicked a guy to the side “—Don’t be. Just—”

He whirled on you as you let out a whimper, now clutching your shoulder. In a flash, Zoro severed the arm of the man who’d hurt you, letting you lean against him for a moment. Maybe four men were still standing, yet the captain had gone out of sight. The coward. 

His heart raced, the sound of it blaring in his ears and making it hard to gather his wits up off the ground. Zoro could barely breathe, but he managed to berate you still. “Stay down. I’ll handle this.”

You glared up at him, your eyes going wide a moment later. Your hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him down with all your might, and he keeled over, not expecting it. He rolled to the side and stood, taking out another pirate by his leg in the process, and whipped back around to yell at you.

But… something was wrong. You teetered precariously on your feet, and your face was all scrunched up, and why were you clutching your chest like that? Was there that much blood on your shirt before? 

Even when he saw the captain standing behind you with a bloodied sword, Zoro couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If anyone had seen what happened next, they would understand precisely why Roronoa Zoro was compared to a demon; the three remaining men and their captain were dead before you ever hit the deck.

Zoro fell to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground as he scooped up your head and held you to him. Your name fell from his trembling lips, his wide eyes pleading with yours to stay open. You were fading before his very eyes, the sun behind them setting fast. 

“Hey,” he stammered. “Hey, don’t go—you can’t. Remember? You don’t get to leave. That’s not how this works. That’s what you said.” You smiled up at him, and it all got infinitely worse. “Stop being—stop being stupid. You’re not dying. Get up.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered as black fuzz clouded your vision. “I’m… okay…”

You went limp in his arms. His tears didn’t make a sound, nor did he as he carried your body back to the inn, passing the innkeeper solemnly, and laid you down on the bed. He stood guard at your side till morning, and he went back for the body of the pirate captain, cashed in the bounty, and made preparations to go back home.

Your grave sat beside Kuina’s, on a nice ridge overlooking the village. The sunset in beautiful from up there.

The demon pirate hunter roamed the East Blue without an ounce of mercy, earning himself his title and reputation once and for all. No one ever dared to trap him again, not after they heard what happened to the last guys who tried. The whole crew died in twenty minutes, is what they said.

He barely spoke to anyone besides a bartender, becoming more specter than man. His eyes always had this dark tint to them, a haunting behind them that struck fear into the very soul of anyone who looked into them. 

And he liked it that way. He didn’t need anyone getting a closer look at him, not when everyone he ever cares about winds up—gone. He swore he’d never let anyone get close ever again. It was safer that way.

No one touched his swords. No one so much as brushed past them without getting an earful. Only he ever cleaned, shined, or sharpened his blades. He claimed no one ever did it right.

In truth, the demon pirate was getting sloppy, as much as he hated to admit it. He had a mission to complete, yet each day grew more difficult than the last. He took on bounties without much thought, fought anyone who spared him a glance. 

Reckless. He’d grown reckless.

It’s what led him to Shell Town. What led him to that restaurant. What led him to defending that little girl and her mother (he sees you in every child with just an ounce of wonder). It’s what brought him here, tied to this post under the blazing sun, starving and thirsty, and he felt deserving of it.

But he couldn’t die here. He’d let one promise be broken. The other would be fulfilled. He just had ten more days left, then he’d be on his way. Surely, Hawkeye Mihawk can’t hide forever. Then, after… he could rest. Only then. Only then.

“They say you’re a bad guy.”

Zoro frowned, lifting his eyes from the dirt, squinting through the blinding sun to make out who stood before him. Their outline came first, a boy, with something on his head. He blinked a few times and took in this kid who dared to step into this yard. 

He looked him up and down, took in the straw hat on his head, shielding the kid’s eyes from the sun. Yet, somehow… despite the shade being cast on his face, there was a bright glow in his complexion, but Zoro couldn’t decide where it was coming from (he refused to admit it was coming from his eyes).

This kid had the nerve to smile at Zoro, giving him the sense that maybe they had met before. Why else would that unrestrained, recklessly true smile make Zoro’s heart stop? 

(Zoro would only let himself think it some weeks later, when he’d long since accepted the offer of first mate, and long since the Straw Hat pirates found a ship of their own—Luffy reminded him of you, as terrifying as that was).

(Maybe he would let one, or two, or however many people were on that ship get close. Just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try).

“Zoro!” Luffy called, racing toward the afterdeck in search of the mossheaded swordsman. He jumped to a stop, finding Zoro sitting under the tangerine trees, slowly peeling one in his hand. “There you are! What’re you doing?”

He barely cast him a glance. “Trying to be alone.”

Luffy laughed at that, plopping himself down next to Zoro. “Me too.” He reached up a rubber hand and swiped a tangerine, only thinking how odd it was a moment later. “Hmm, Nami would normally skin us for eating her fruit.”

Zoro stilled before popping a slice into his mouth. “She said it’s fine. As long as I’m alone.”

The captain tilted his head, skeptical as he slowly chewed a piece of his tangerine. “Why?”

Luffy received no answer, not right away, not until Zoro finished his tangerine and set the peel in front of him to dispose of later. And Luffy waited, shredding his peel into lots of pieces just for the fun of it. 

“I had a sister,” Zoro finally confessed, causing Luffy to freeze up. “It’s her birthday.”

So many questions bubbled under the surface. Why hadn't he mentioned her? Why hadn’t Luffy met her? What’s her name? Does she have green hair too? But… Zoro’s solemn expression had Luffy falling silent, watching his face carefully.

No explanation came, but Luffy gathered the gist of it. Whoever this sister was, she wasn’t around anymore. “Do you… still want to be alone?”

Zoro hesitated, hands squeezing his knees tightly, his throat gone dry. “No.”

“Okay,” Luffy smiled softly, plucking his hat from his head and setting it on Zoro’s, slightly missing the mark and pushing it down over his eyes.

The swordsman huffed a laugh, peeking out from under the hat. “What’s that for?”

Luffy shrugged. “Dunno. The hat makes me feel better.”

Zoro shook his head, gazing softly upon his captain before adjusting the straw hat on his head and shifting to stare at the sea. “Thank you, Luffy. For everything.”

“No problem, Zoro. Hey, do you when dinner's ready?"

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @raspberrymuffings you mentioned big bro zoro A WHILE ago on my sanji's sister fic

[sillysowa]

Ok I have a request :) could maybe guess who this is but AHDBSH

The fem reader is a villain while Hobie is the “hero”(not rlly but I forgot what it’s called) that’s been tracking down the reader. But, during the day the both live their normal lives, the readers day job being a barista at the local Cafe. Of course during the night her identity is hidden so she isn’t recognized during the day, which leads to the one morning when Hobie goes to the local coffee shop to order a drink and unknowingly ordering it from his masked nemesis.

What’d ya think? <3

I LOVE your brain anon! Sorry for the wait and if it seems rushed!

BEHIND THE MASK

pairing : hobie brown x fem!prowler!reader

genre : fluff, slightly suggestive

word count : 3k

warnings : violence

authors note : reader is the prowler but i have incredibly minimal knowledge on the prowler lol

synopsis : hobie has a date with a cute barista who just so happens to be the prowler

—

“And what exactly do you think you’re doin?”

Spiderpunk’s agonizing voice cuts through the silence of the night and you freeze in your tracks. You knew he’d find you tonight—always chasing after you like a moth to a flame, or a fly to a spiders web.

He drops down from the wall, thrusting his hands into his pockets and clicking his tongue, his loud boots slapping against the ground behind you,

“What’ya got in that bag of yours? Up to something you shouldn’t be?” He questions, coming right up behind you and whispering next to your ear. You turn around, your hands up as you look at him through your mask,

“Bold of you to assume i’ve done anything, I could just be out for a midnight stroll.” You shrug slyly, toying with him. You know just as well as he does that he could have tried to take you down by now, he’s clearly just wanted a little foreplay as usual.

“Oh, is it now? You’ve got this guilty air about you.” He asks, completely prepared for any attack that you might have up your sleeve, “You really want me to believe a dirty little liar like you, hm?” As he provokes you, his gloved hands reach up to your face only to get smacked away, but he only smiles harder—he expected it. A scoff can be heard from under your mask,

“Miss me, Spiderpunk? You seem awfully excited.” You sneer, voice muffled a deeper more menacing tone. His animated mask portrays his every expression, a squinty smirk plastered on his face,

“How’d you know?” He smirks, coming closer. You flex your fingers, claws baring menacingly before you rip a smoke bomb off your belt and slam it down, making Spiderpunk stumble back before you lunge at him through the cloud. His senses go wild, and he web shoots to the wall, swinging around and pulling his guitar out while you’re down. Your momentum landing you on your knees after he dodged, and you can’t react fast enough for his attack. He’s got his guitar above his head before he slams it down on your back,

“Ah!—Fuck me!” You grumble, rolling over and jumping up, shaking your head with your hands in front of you defensively.

“Only if you ask nicely, gorgeous,” He’s got his guitar out on display as if it’s a sword, making you scoff,

“In your dreams.” Your crack your neck and lunge at him, grunting and swinging wherever you can reach from your stance. You’d never admit it, but his height creeped you out and excited you all at once. Never in a million years would you get with a person like Spiderpunk—a loud, obnoxious, wannabe ‘hero’—but the fact that he towered over you like he did made you nervous in the best way possible. You tried to ignore the feelings deep in your stomach and focus on the way that made you feel about your fighting, afraid that he could overpower you if you let your guard down even slightly—which you did. He had used his fucking guitar pick—the small object somehow slicing your arm. You gasped and he hurriedly backed up, nearly tripping over his feet. At first he was dodging your punches well until you threw a right hook in, your knuckles meeting his jaw with as much force as you could muster,

He had no time to react as he stumbled down. You kicked him across the face and pinned his hands down under your shoes. You knew you had to act fast and get the hell away from him,

“Couldn’t have wined and dined me first?” He quips, his wrists pinned beside his head and his legs spread under you. It’s quite a sight—the city’s hero sprawled out under you like this at your mercy. You shake the thoughts out of your head,

“Catch you later, Spiderpunk.” You rasp, reaching to your belt and popping the cap off a homemade bomb. His eyes triple in size as you throw it, your boot shoving his face down before you flee. He scrambles and slings away before the bomb explodes and the walls surrounding it crumble.

He watches from across the street as the damage ensues, cursing to himself when sees the faint glow of your suit as you disappear into the night. You were such a pain in his ass—but couldn’t keep away.

—

—?” You yell out the name of an order, setting a drink and pastry down. You smile at the customer who walks up and thanks you, giving them a quick smile before returning to the register, swapping out with your coworker,

“Thanks again, Y/N.” They sigh. This isn’t typical behavior from your coworker, they’re typically very hard working but they told you a chunk of their apartment complex was blown up last night. Of course, you had to sympathize with them and help make their shift a little easier—it’s the least you could do after being the unknown cause of their distress.

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” You wipe off your uniform and put on a smile for the customers of the small café you work at. It had been an exhausting shift—only 30 minutes in and it already felt like hell. You looked up ready to give your best customer service voice when your words caught in your throat…

The man in front of you was absolutely breath taking. He had these high cheekbones and pretty eyes, full lips with a ring to compliment them, perfectly styled hair and jewelry all over—god his fashion too. He had this punk rock thing going on, and he was absolutely killing it. Even his body language was attractive, the way his hands were on either side of the table, leaning over slightly to reach your level,

“Mornin’.” He starts, his deep voice only spurring on your attraction towards him, “Could I just get a…” He looks up, biting the inside of his cheek before sighing, “Having a hard time making a choice—wide selection you’ve got. What do you recommend?” He asks with a curious expression, bending down close to hear you over the machinery, clanging dishes, and customer chatter.

You’re stunned, not expecting you’d have to think. After a little stuttering, you can finally think,

“W-Well we have this Persian tea. It’s a black tea base with cardamom and rose petals?” You suggest, your face heating up when he smiles because of course he has the lost beautiful smile you’ve ever seen, “It’s my favorite.” You add, voice coming out oddly quiet and now you’re incredibly embarrassed for reasons you can’t name,

“Sounds perfect, gorgeous.” He eccentrically squints his eyes and shakes his head as he speaks, half lidded eyes locking with yours again.

“And the name for your order?” You ask, tapping in the details on the screen before making eye contact with him,

“Hobie.” And of course, there’s something about the way he says his name that has you melting, but you desperately try to ignore it and pull yourself together. He whips out his wallet and hands you a large bill, your fingers slipping against his as you take it into your hand. You ring him up and gather his change, which he adamantly refuses to take,

“Keep it.” The stunning man winks, walking away and waiting in the line of others who have ordered. For a moment, you stand there completely appalled. When you turn to look at your coworker she’s already staring at you,

“…Oh my god?” She mouths, her hand over her mouth, “You better go make his drink and write your number on his cup, girl—move over i’ve got the register.” She laughs in disbelief, just as flustered as you,

“Thank you, thank you.” You hurriedly giggle, feeling guilty almost at her eagerness before moving out of her way and fumbling around, steeping his tea immediately. You were extra meticulous when crafting his order, wanting it to be just perfect. You caught glimpses of the rockstar-like man over the counter a few times, and almost every time he was already looking at you. You had to bite your lip to fight back the smile that tugged at your lips. When you poured his tea in a cup and clicked the cap on, you pulled out your sharpie and wrote his name messily, scribbling your number under it. With a cheeky smile you set the cup down,

“Hobie?” You call out like you have no idea who he is despite holding eye contact with him. He walks over, pulling a hand out of his pockets and wrapping his long fingers around the cup,

“Thank you, doll.” He rasped, scanning you over one last time when suddenly he squints,

“Y’alright? Doesn’t look like just a little scratch.” He asks you with his eyebrows furrowed, pointing low and squinting in concern. You’re just as confused as he is for a moment, looking down with your heart stopping as you realize it’s the cut from when Spiderpunk sliced you with his guitar pick, the memories of last night flooding into your brain and causing a panic in your nerves, your adrenaline pumping in a flash,

“Oh this? I got this from a clumsy accident the other day, it’s really no biggie.” You brush it off, covering the cut with your hand and cursing internally. You want to hide and never show your face again, the worst possible outcomes clouding your thoughts. He doesn’t seem concerned about your response, taking it for the truth,

“You better be more careful then, yeah?” He playfully chastises, turning to leave, “See y’round, pretty.” And with that, he walks out of the café, humming in delight at the flavors in your favorite drink. He’s almost done with his drink when he finally notices your number on the cup, laughing to himself and freezing in his tracks.

—

You got a call that night after your shift—you knew you would. When you picked up the phone and his deep voice was on the other end you just about melted into your bed.

“Hey, Hobie.”

“Hello, lovely—never got your name.” He mutters on the other end, background shuffling and movements loud enough to reach your ears. He sounds like he’s flipping switches and plugging stuff in,

“It’s, Y/N.” You chirp. Hobie feels a smile take over his face as he learns your name, repeating it a couple times,

“Such a pretty name you’ve got.” He coo’s his voice low and sultry. You smile widely, stupidly giddy over this

stranger,

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” He says smugly. On the other side of the phone you can faintly hear what sounds like a guitar, an electric guitar, “How about we go out sometime, yeah? When can I see you?” He asks, his voice charismatic.

You think, caught between wanting to see him tomorrow and wanting to be careful about who sees you that day. Tomorrow you had shady plans, and you didn’t want to get him roped into it, “Hm…it sounds weird but can I see you at nine?” You ask with a questioning tilt in your voice, “I understand it’s late but—“

“No worries, hun, works f’me.” He insists, causing you to sigh in relief.

“Okay great! thank you, Hobie.” You smile, fidgeting with your clothes anxiously. He hums and you feel your heart race,

“See you then, Y/N.”

—

Tonight would be the craziest heist of your life if you could pull it off. Keyword, if.

You didn’t know, but Spiderpunk had been following you the entire night. He had to keep a close watch on you after that stunt you pulled last time. You had somehow managed to outsmart him and he couldn’t let it happen again. You were currently in an alleyway, your pace fast and your head down—you honestly couldn’t look more suspicious as you walked towards the bank.

“Don’t think so.” He mutters to himself, slinging down and following you stealthily. He crept along the walls, keeping a watchful eye on you as you literally sawed open the wall, following close behind.

You on the other hand had a lot of tasks you were juggling all at once—you were texting Hobie telling him you’d see him in 15 minutes, sawing the building open, and watching your back simultaneously.

Spiderpunk, who couldn’t yet see you well enough to notice you were texting with your other hand, jumped when his phone vibrated with a notification. He pulled it out and quickly checked it, his heart racing at your name lighting up his screen. He just had to take you down to make it to the date on time—easy peasy.

He crept into the bank, catching a glimpse of you breaking into all their stashes and safes, literally stuffing cash into your bag. You look rushed and panicked, not as tactful as your usual self. He find it entertaining and comical decided to mess with you a little,

“In a hurry?” That low and taunting voice makes your skin crawl, whipping your head around, fingering tightening on your bag. Of course he was here, how could you have missed him? Or more importantly, how could he have not missed you? You knew it was a shot in the dark to just assume he wouldn’t find you this night as he always does—you bet he has some kind of affinity for you. A gravely sigh tumbles from your lips, shaking your head and slinging your bag over your shoulder,

“Look—I can’t fool around with you tonight, let’s skip the small talk.” You grunt, clicking your claws into readied fists, staring him down with precision. Spiderpunk liked fighting you when you were playful, but there was something about fighting you when you were annoyed that really excited him,

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He teases with a low whistle, webbing towards you feet first. You dodge, grunting and lunging at him, both of you rolling until he’s got you under him, attempting to restrain you. You bring your knees up and kick him off of you, jumping up and circling him. He stares you down for a while, that messy painted mask squinty-eyed,

“Come on.” He sneers, beckoning you with his two, very long, middle fingers suggestively. You laugh at this, lunging at him in a series of calculated movements. He fights you off, throwing out quips and sly remarks to fire you up. You swing at him, your claws out, and he struggles against you when you attempt to stab him with them, pushing your wrists against the wall and grunting through the struggle. You’re shaking under him, hissing and squirming in an attempt to free yourself when he webs you to the wall.

“Fuck! God—“ You groan, frustrated and beyond pissed at what this means for you. Hobie’s face flashes in your brain and you cringe at the idea of standing him up like this,

“Please! Please just let me go this time…” You grunt, the webs holding you down like a barricade as he pulls your bag off you, spilling the contents out onto the floor—your phone, your outfit for the date, and all the money scattered across the cool tile,

“What’s with the dress? Got a date tonight?” He hums, picking up the fancy garment before dropping it back in place when you just scoff. Hobie reaches down to gather up the money when he notices the time on your phone, straightening up and pulling his own phone out,

“Shit—it’s that time already?” You watch as he hurriedly texts someone, his thumbs dancing across the screen. You slump against the wall as much as you can being restrained, sighing in pure frustration when your phone buzzes.

You both freeze—you because you’re deathly embarrassed and Hobie because his heart drops into his stomach. Directly after he sent a text to Y/N, your phone lit up. He looks at you, trying to decode your body language as he bends down and picks up your phone, confirming his suspicions.

Sure enough, there’s a text from him, or ‘Hobie,’ right in the middle of your lock screen. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, laughing to himself with his shoulders shaking in tandem.

You on the other hand are completely and utterly unaware of what just happened, still stuck to the wall and helplessly watching the scene in front of you. He stuff his and your phone into his pocket, muttering something to himself that you can’t quite make out before he walks towards you, the soles of his boots echoing in the dark empty bank,

“What the—why did you take my phone? What are you-“ Your rambles are cut short as his gloved hands come up to your mask, removing it despite your protests. After tossing it to the ground, he simply takes it all in. It’s you, his date—the prowler. You’re obviously still completely oblivious to what’s transpired and therefore furious,

“Answer me asshole! What good is seeing my face gonna do for you?“ And now, it’s your turn to be completely speechless as Spiderpunk pulls his mask off. Hobie’s dark hair springs out, his pretty face glowing in the low light and a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you swallow the same truth as he did,

“Cant say I was expecting this.” He whispers coyly, eating up the way you instantly grow quiet and flustered, this extra layer added onto your relationship clearly only exciting you more. You gulp nervously, your heart racing at this sudden turn of events,

“Me neither…” You whisper, simply unable to be mad or upset when now you’ve got your cake and you’re about to eat it too.

Hobie doesn’t do much thinking when he unties you and kicks the money aside, or when he tells you to put on that pretty dress and let him take you out properly. You’re completely stunned, staring down at your prowler claws before stuffing them in your bag and walking out the hole you cut into the bank, Hobie waiting against the wall for you,

“So…about all of this?” You awkwardly chuckle, motioning to the bank, the money, and the mess. Hobie being the anarchist he is simply shrugs, extending his palm for yours and clasping it when you place it against his, slinging away into the night to finally go on that date,

“Not my problem.”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri

[bokettochild]

Blupee Bait

Been thinking about @sraksha's blupee artworks with Legend and.... well, y'all know me at this point.

If it's cute Legend stuff, I can't say no.

-

“Wild, give it a rest,” 

The champion scowls, but drops his bow for not the third time that day. “I swear I saw something.” 

“Like what?” Legend grumbles, not bothering to glance up at his fellow hero as he follows along behind him, “a squirrel? Kid, we’re in a forest, there’s animals everywhere.” 

“An’ ya don’t need to hunt ‘em all.” Twilight scolds, glancing over his shoulder at the champion. 

Said champion grumbles, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have grounds to. Wild’s been known to shoot down near anything he can in preparation for any time where they have neither time or prey to hunt. It’s a fair practice, on some fronts. As someone who’s seen what the road looks like with an empty belly, empty bag, and no prospects of hunting, Legend can appreciate the champion’s incessant need to restock on his provisions. That said though, he’s not sure they can even store anything else, what with how good hunting has been as of late. Not that Twilight had liked that to begin with, but food is food, and whether or not one knows what it’s like to stand at the other end of the arrow or not, be hunted and chased, he doesn’t see any reason to back the rancher up with his attempts at dissuading the cook from his craft. They are nine men and boys with hearty appetites after all; meat will fill them far faster than anything else, and realistically speaking, takes far less time to gather a fair portion of. 

Even so, Wild’s bow has hardly left his hand since they’d come to his world through the portal, and they’re supposedly coming wthin bounds of one or another of this era’s stables, where monsters aren’t such a threat that that would be needed. The teen's behaviours are setting him ill at ease, and he’s already uncommonly snappish as of late, even for himself. 

He’s not sure why, but there’s some part of him screaming at him every time he isn’t actively trying to keep them all alive and together, and he’s yet to determine what it is because he’s so busy trying to block out it and all other pains and pressing annoyances in favor of focusing on IT. He can’t name what IT might be, but he’s felt the eyes on him for days now. Wild’s drawing and staring at the air only adds to his unease, but as the champion has yet to see or shoot or even strike anything, much less some stalker or enemy, he’s not sure what to make of it. Maybe his mind is really giving out on him after all these years, as Ravio worries. Maybe he really is going insane or becoming paranoid. It could just be birds, just something innocent and harmless. He’s bright red after all, rather eye catching in comparison to his brothers, saving Four, who is of course all the more so and not for the right reasons. 

Heavens above, if Styla could meet the smithy, she’d faint dead away at his jesterly fashion sense. 

Not that anybody in the group fits the princess’ standards, but he’ll digress; he’s not exactly blending in with everything right now. 

Still, even birds look away after long enough. Yet that shiver, the creeping feeling of eyes on him has him glancing back warily despite himself, and only further encouraging Wild’s excessive staring into the trees.  

There is something there, something watching. 

It’s not harmful. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he does. It’s no enemy or monster, although the sense of power that radiates to him from the trees where nothing can be seen would indicate that he really should register it as far more of a threat. Most times it’s consistent, a thrum of magic seeping towards him. Other times though, mostly when Wild is too busy to stare back and draw his bow, there has been Something Else, and It’s magic, when It comes, comes in a surge that will make him stumble, will make his legs feel weak and his mind cloud for a moment that spikes panic even despite the overwhelming sense of peace that seems to call to him from the forest. 

Legend has never been one to stray from the path, but there is some part of him all but demanding he do so now, and only a wavering sense of self control, mixed with an influx of anxious “what ifs” has kept him from bending to that impulse. 

It can only hold so very much longer though. He’s tired. Of fighting, of pain, of the sense of wrongness he feels in his own skin; the urge to claw and tear and hiss at the way it fits over his frame, how it feels, how his clothes feel and his boots and his jewelry. It’s all too much and not enough, and mixed with the aches of battle, the aches caused by cold and the aching in his joints, his hands, his shoulders; it’s altogether exhausting. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll last before his mind crumbles, and he’ll give into whatever impulse promises some sense of relief or release from the wrongness and pain that surrounds and overwhelms him. 

Not that he can express that, but... 

Legend shakes his head, both in hopes of dismissing the thoughts but also to dislodge the feeling of eyes following, watching, waiting. 

-

The small red one is not well. 

They’d noticed when the flare of magic in the air had spiked, drawing the attention of all of them, and even The Lord to come and to see what had caused such an influx in an otherwise magic-drained land. Eight strangers, eight figures with burning souls had been their answer, accompanied by the all too familiar sight of the Boy that wanders this land. 

He’s an odd one, that Boy. The tree folk care for him, fawn over him and welcome him. The Great Tree speaks of him with fondness and warmth. He is blessed by the hands of the fairies whose blossoms lay throughout the land. Magic seeps from him as water from a cracked vessel, yet never does he employ it’s power. He is blessed and beloved by the Wilds and the all that they include, saving of course themselves. 

Despite the Great Tree's assurance that he is harmless, Their Lord bids them be wary, and the arrows that fly at them from the Boy are a reminder to obey such a command. 

Now though, despite the drawing of the bow and the flying of arrows, they follow close by, regardless of orders given. 

They cannot help it; there is a Kit with the Boy. 

He is, by sight, a hylian like the Boy and the others whose souls sing with goddess blessed fire, but his soul, like the Boy, whispers of some Otherness that is not found in the hylian people who wander and live throughout this land. Where in others there is an emptiness, in these nine there is an Other-ness, a sense of something beneath, hiding claws and teeth and snapping jaws, which exists in these that travel through roads, bramble and plains. 

There are wolves here. A dragon. There are teeth and sharpness, danger and power. Yet, in the midst of it all, a kit wanders behind, soul flickering, weak, magic pulsing and screaming for aid, for relief. Where they burn, he flickers, magic burning out, flame low, ready to burn it’s last. 

They cannot have that. 

The Boy and his companions do not see it, must not, for if they could, no doubt they ought to be about fixing it and offering aid, but they do not. No, they are blind and stupid as most of their kind are, seeing only what is before their eyes and not reaching out with their burning souls to sense that about them for what it is beneath its pretty form and face. They do not sense, and will not try, and as such the kit’s soul flickers further. 

It cannot stand. 

So, since the strange ones do not see, will not act, and stand about blind, they will follow. They follow, watching, waiting. There must come a time, they reason, that the Boy will lower his guard, will stop shooting and watching and looking long enough that they can catch the kit’s eye and draw him away. It should only take the smallest effort; him being young, his curiosity will take him before he knows what he does, and they can lead away and to safety. The Lord has no knowledge of their plan, despite his coming the once to see what it is that keeps them from returning to him, but they have little doubt that he will accept the kit. 

Kits are very rare, after all, and such a curious one as this is most uncommon. He is neither their kind nor not. He is magic, but not in the same strain. He is almost kin, but not quite; a distortion of themselves like light caught between a dozen dewdrops to scatter brilliant in colors that otherwise will not make themselves known. 

He is beautiful. 

The Lord will love him, they are sure. They only need make him look and see, rather than turn his many wondrous eyes to these strange anomalies and simply bid them be wary and away. 

Yes, they are disobeying his order, but if this sick and troubled kit is brought to him, he will understand why. He would want them to help, if he knew, and so they will do their all to offer aid. 

They just need the Boy to stop lingering so close and shooting at them. 

It takes days before he does. 

They’re watching when the gathering of strangers settles in the shelter made in Malanya’s image. The Boy’s first actions are to turn his attentions to the pot of fire and start working. The two wolves stray away towards Malanya’s children, the dragon helping the smaller ones settle within the shelter. The kit goes with but strays out not long after. 

His eyes are glassy, weariness seeping from him. The shield of magic that has held in defense around those in his gathering is now dropped, and the flickering flame within seems to burn ever lower now that it is no longer forced to burn at all. His steps are slow, eyes dragging over the land, cute, pointed little ears turning towards them, as though he knows that they are there, but still his eyes and ears do not catch on them. 

Kits are like that; their sense of magic is always stronger than any other they hold. 

They spring out and towards him. 

It takes only a moment to catch his eye. He watches so keenly, startled and staring. His eyes are like a twilight sky, fixed on blue light and glittering gaze as he is leveled with their stare.  

“Holy...” 

Not quite, they muse, but nearly there. 

They step towards him, an action mirrored by the kit, unthinking and impulsive. Amusement darts through them as they stare, cocking their head on one side, waiting for the next straying step (out of bounds, out of watch from the Boy and the wolves). It only takes a second or two before he is straying closer, and when he does, they turn, darting off and away from the shelter of the hylians, and back towards where they belong. 

He calls out, surprised, no doubt, feet stumbling after. When they glance back, stopping, he looks confused, blinking and starting as though unsure why he follows, why he’d called out. They can’t help but thrum with fondness. He’s cute, so clueless and lost.  

He’s also unwell though, magic too weak. Had they the skill, they’d settle beside him now and offer their own to strengthen, but pure as they may be, they will not be enough to offer him what he needs. He will be needing others to aid, and The Lord’s blessing would be most helpful as well. They just need to bring him along, tempt him just far enough to be granted what he needs. 

It’s not long, or far, Little Kit, just follow after. 

He does not, however. He stops, watching them and blinking slowly in confusion, and so they turn back. He starts as they stop before him, stumbles back when they hop close enough to touch, eyes wide and lips parted, gaping down at them as though unsure what it is that he witnesses. Unlike the Boy though, he draws no weapon. Rather, they can feel his magic, weak but curious, reaching out in a question they can’t yet answer, not yet, but if he will follow, he will see. 

They nuzzle gently, rub against booted feet, and then, before hands can reach to touch, they dart back the way they came from, pausing at the top of a knoll, turning back and watching. 

The kit blinks at them. 

-

Legend has absolutely no clue what is happening. He’d stepped out of the stable to avoid the chatter of the strange merchant that half the group seems to recognize, the man’s voice grating on his nerves, and the incessant chattering about insects only further worsening the problem. His intent had been to settle beneath a tree for a moment’s rest, out of sight, out of mind, and away from judgement from the other heroes. 

He did not expect to find himself staring as a blue rabbit appeared out of thin air. 

Naturally, his first thoughts had been one of shock, but in seconds a thousand questions were racing about in his head, curiosity pushing him to cautiously make his way towards the creature. Strangely, the thing made its way towards him as well. 

It didn’t seem to be scared of him, whatever it was. In fact, the magic that poured off of it, strong and other and... strangely familiar, seemed almost welcoming, in a way he’d never quite encountered. 

He couldn’t put a reason to why he’d darted after it when it had started away, or even to why the thing had turned back and hopped along towards him again, brushing gently against his legs before springing back and away, only to pause and look back to him, almost as though waiting. Just the same, he couldn’t put a reason to why he had followed. 

It’s the most curious looking thing he’s seen in a while; the face of an owl, but a body not unlike that his own will become when touched with darkness. Stranger still though: it glows. He’s met precious few things that glow, at least by their own power, and most tend to be something to be avoided, but this... this thing, seems to be harmless in nature.  

Not that that prevents him wondering after where it’s leading him, or even why. That, however, does not stop him following, despite a very weary voice in his mind warning to not, that he doesn’t know this place or this world, that there is no path to follow and he’s alone now, without the others. 

He should at least tell them where he is, right? 

But if he turns back now, he’ll lose the strange creature, and if there’s one thing six adventures have taught him, it’s that finding and following the thing all over again will only wear further on what precious little patience he still has left in him. Not only that, but he can’t even guarantee that he will find such a thing again, or that it will approach him so openly. He’s certainly never seen one before, in this world or any other, and for it to appear now... 

It’s just got to be something important, and he can’t lose it, can’t let whatever this is slip through his fingers, not if it could offer some further step in their newest quest, some promise or item or guidance they may need! So, he follows, darting and running after the little creature that pauses every so often to turn back and make sure he’s still following. He follows it away from the stable and towards what, he doesn’t know, curiosity flooding through him. 

The others will understand why he left, right? 

-

The kit is slow. 

It’s a long process, darting along only to have to stop every few steps and let him catch up. He’s not stumbling over much, but the poor thing lacks their usual speed, and likely as not lacks the magic to simply fade to The Lord’s side.  

Not that they have any intent of forcing the poor thing to try and cross a river and a field, climb a mountain and only then rest. No, they only need regroup with the others, enough that their combined strength will be enough to take him with when they themselves follow the call of their Lord back to where they belong. He will come with, if their magic is shared, as all kits do, and then at last they can show their Lord what they have found and maybe then provide that light that this weakling kit so desperately needs. 

The poor thing starts when another of their kind appears beside them, stumbles when yet another darts up from the ground to spring alongside. He slows altogether when at last there are enough of them, eyes wide and staring as they stand at his feet. 

He’s so cute and clueless, they can’t help but chirp at him, watching those odd little ears flicker about and his strange little nose wiggle with confusion. 

He will understand soon. 

The stop, the others following suit, and thus, so too does the kit. He stands amidst them and stares as they gather around, starts as they turn to him and watch, and only after moments of him standing does he seem to find it in himself to settle down among them, crouching low and reaching out, so curious and clueless and lost. 

He’s too cute, honestly. 

They dart forwards, letting clever fingers touch and thrumming with pride at the little gasp that stutters from the kit at first contact with downy fluff. Doubt seems to fade, worries abate, as the poor thing reaches out, gently lifting them, which thy only welcome as their companions gather closer. Some climb up, darting and flickering, settling on shoulders and legs and all about, covering the little one in their magic, spreading it one to another until, at last, it is strong enough, and then- 

The poor kit starts badly when the world flickers pink, when overhead are blossoms and beneath is water and the dusk that has settled over them in their chase grants light that only pales in comparison to their own. He drops them in his shock, but they hold none of it to him. He is unlikely to know what it is to travel as they do, to flicker from one place to where they ought to be, and it is nothing to them to fall that distance when they are at home and in their own place. 

“Where on earth-” the kit Is blinking again, staring, turning about and looking altogether confused. That is alright though; answers will come shortly. 

They can feel The Lord. He is not with them, not yet, but his power surges about them, and the water trembles all so subtly as they gather at its edges. 

Mayhaps it is that, or maybe the fact that they gather, that has drawn the attention of the kit from his confusion to their pool, but he turns with them, stalking slowly over, cautious but still just as curious as a moment before. No temptation is needed to bring him up alongside of the water only seconds before the Lord emerges. 

It’s clear in a moment their Lord knows there is something changed, some presence not their own, yet also not that of the Boy who likes to come here to try and catch them, or the hylians who come to hunt. The Lord turns in moments to seek, to find, and golden eyes meet with twilight as the kit starts and stares, jaw gaped, eyes wide, soul sparking in wonder not expressed, but felt by them all and earning a surge of delight. 

They can’t help it; the kit’s wonder is a pleasure to witness. 

The Lord like ways seems to think so, cautious in his motion but welcoming as he makes for the kit at the edge of his pool, lowering a great head to stare at eyes that stare back, unblinking. They have done well, he deems, to bring the little one here, and greetings are given as he lets crooked hands rise to touch, solemn and reverent, to bury in his mane. 

Pink head-fur is tousled by their Lord, soft little sounds of surprise erupting from the kit, but the greeting of their lord is all that is needed for them and the others to gather. 

Magic surges, their lord settling, the kit staring and then.... 

He stills. 

-

To say that this moment feels like a dream would be to put it lightly. 

One moment, he’s chasing the strange blue bunny, the next, he’s standing under a cherry tree, water before him and sky all around. The air is cold here, thick too with some oppressive magic, the same as he’s sensed in the woods, following after him; that of the watching thing. 

He has all of a moment to wonder if maybe these strange rabbits were doing the watching, but then his mind is drawn to how they gather at the water’s edge, and so he follows. He’s not expecting the beast that appears in a flicker of light, somehow stranger still than the rabbits; a blue stallion with a mane like a lion and two faces, both that of owls. It glows with ethereal light, magic pouring from it in thick waves that have his legs giving out beneath him. If they hadn’t though, the overwhelming urge to kneel in reverence to this great beast would have brought him to his knees regardless. 

It’s eyes, all four of them, are fixed on him, it's hooves turning his way, gaze fixed, eyes heavy. It’s hard to do anything save meet the gaze, even as warmth floods over him as the thing bows its head to be level with his own, eyes meeting and holding for a precious second before closing. 

Some treacherous part of him dares lift his hand to touch, to feel. His curiosity wins over common sense, but the thing does not stir as he grips its mane. In fact, it holds perfectly still, and it is instead he who is shaken. Magic pours over him like wave, overwhelming yet also... 

Peace. 

Pain, exhaustion, weariness and worry all fade into something drowsy and subdued. The thoughts that spin without end in his mind slow to something quiet, controlled, relaxed even. He finds himself lifting his hands to drag again through long, impossibly soft hair, the great eyes of the thing opening once more as it leans closer, face touching his own in a gesture he feels ought to mean something, ought to be important, ought to strike something in his mind, some familiarity or feeling, but all he can register is peace, eyes fluttering shut as small bodies press close to his own, climbing over him. 

It’s like being drugged, in a peaceful, gentle sort of way. A floating sort of feeling that takes over him and leaves him settling on the shore, unsure when he finds himself lying amidst the odd little creatures, but thoroughly delighted as their furry pelts press to sensitive skin, soothing every sensation with delightful fur he only just resists burying his face in, rubbing against and breathing in. He need not even try though, for they gather around eagerly, and though the great beast, their leader (or perhaps parent? creator?) stands aside, watching, it is a benevolent thing; its presence and magic still settled over, safe and warm and overwhelming to the point of tears. 

The little rabbit creatures chirp and fuss at the dampness, but the relief, sweet, precious, much longed for and now all so tangible, only makes them flow more freely, a smile touching his face as that incessant voice within at last stills, relief in a way he can’t name granting itself to him and leaving him lying on the earth, at peace for what feels like the first time since his adventures started. 

That’s how Wild finds him later. It’s morning by the time that the champion arrives, huffing and frowning, face awash with worry as he rounds some bend in some path that Legend has missed before. It’s all gone though, when the other hero lays eyes on him. 

He’d slept well, although he can’t say when he slept and when he woke. The last hours since coming here are simply a blur of warmth, soft fur, and overwhelming feelings of security and peace. It must show, because Wild’s concern flickers into amusement as the other draws near. 

The beast, whatever it had been, in now gone. Before leaving, it had come to him again, brushing his face with its own in what felt like some semblance of a farewell, or maybe a blessing. There’s a part of him that feels maybe there was something said, probably was, but he can’t name the language or manner, only that there had been something conveyed, and something which he can only explain as having been warmth and compassion and kindness spoken. Despite the beast’s departure, however, the strange glowing rabbits have remained, and still settle over him, warm and impossibly soft, although often shifting and moving, springing about and playing over and about him, but never straying far, and he’s been content to similarly stay amongst them, simply enjoying their presence. 

“There you are,” Wild murmurs, crouching down beside him and smiling a crooked smile, worry fleeing from his gaze to instead be replaced with amusement. “Have a good night?” 

He can only hum his agreement. 

Wild chuckles, eyes creasing with laugher as they glitter, the same unnatural blue as the other-worldly rabbits. “What, did you get kidnapped by the blupees or something? You usually don’t stray from the path, vet.” 

“Blupees?” Somehow, it’s the only thing to make it off his tongue. 

The champion huffs another little laugh, brows raising, “your cuddle partners?” 

“Oh.” 

The smile he’s sent really has no right to be that teasing, but somehow he doesn’t care, only remaining as he is until the champion’s attentions turn to the beasts (blupees) around them. Blue eyes dart over, confusion and wonder in them as he looks from furry critter to dazed hero and back again. There’s a strange sort of hesitation in the way he reaches out, a thing Wild rarely displays, especially towards animals, but the surprise and delight as scarred hands make contact with fur feels important. 

“Huh...” 

He doesn’t have it in him to really ask, save turning and staring until blue eyes turn to him and a half-smile touches the face of his brother. “They never let me touch them normally, never mind get close.” 

“They lured me away and dragged me here.” 

Blond hair blows freely as the champion throws his head back, laughter startling the blupees around them. “Really?” his smile is strangely disbelieving as it falls on the creatures, “who would have thought.” And then, drawing back to himself, those blue eyes turn to Legend, smile playful. “Well, the others are pretty worried. You ready to go?” 

Bliss still settles into his very bones, peace and a fullness he can’t describe setting every sensation at ease. “No.” 

Wild laughs, standing and offering a hand. ”Come on, vet, the others freaked out when we couldn’t find you last night, and they won’t calm down until I bring you back safe.” 

It’s in a begrudging manner that he pushes himself off the ground; not set with moss or anything particularly soft, but somehow better than any bed he’s ever had, and accepts the hand offered to him. The blupees scatter as Wild pulls him to his feet, and that unnamed part of him sighs wistfully, mourning the loss of contact. 

He’s not sure why, but he can’t help but stare after the creatures as the champion guides him down the mountain. 

-

They do not want to see him go. 

He is better now; magic restored, core recharged. The Lord has said his magic was weak from overuse, his soul crying for aid and support they are only too happy to have offered. A night's sleep and their company will have aided him considerably, and his need is no longer great, nor likely existent, now that the day as come, but that does not change that they do not wish for him to go. Still though, the Lord has also warned them, this kit- though it pleased him to have the little one brought to him- cannot stay. He is already belonging with others, and although their kind may be able to meet needs unseen by the anomalies, this kit cannot be taken from what is already his own. 

Watching the Boy come for him stirs up upset within them. Unease makes itself known, worry that he will shoot and strike, but instead all he does is smile, sinking down beneath their kit and offering smiles and laughter in the way of hylians, his teeth not a threat but a kindness as hands not yet clawed offer aid to their kit. It is taken, but they can feel the reluctance, and it makes them preen ever so slightly. They have done well, bringing the kit here. They have done well, bringing him aid. 

He will depart, and does, wandering off and away, the Boy talking at him and murmuring strange things, even as violet eyes linger, twilight skies lit with stars that last night were absent, watching gold as gold in turn watch twilight.  

He will go, but now they know him. 

He will be easy to find again, when they want to. 

And they will most certainly want to!

[scftpcws]

Naaaah because my boy Ollie is a complete freak! That dude would be clingy and rough AF and I'm here for it. Please please! 🥺

Warning! MDNI18+ some filthy ass shit. and terrible writing please read at your own risk.

smut under the cut 💋

i have been deathly absent for a while but i am here to say… yes. yes the fuck he would be a freak because have you SEEN him. he is a dangerous individual.

i feel like he would have a lot if repressed desires that he would keep from you. he wouldn’t even tell Felix about them, because when has he ever told anyone the truth??

he debated a few times whether or not he should tell you the depraved things he wanted from the two of you’s sex life, but every time he got close he backed out because he didn’t want to weird you out or worse, scare you away.

I feel like he would totally be into some predator x prey dynamic type stuff. he isn’t sure why he’s into it, maybe its the thrill if chasing you through the Maze or giving you 30 seconds to find a hiding space in Saltburn Estate, and spending a dreadful amount of time “trying” to find you, despite knowing exactly where you are every time. he knows you, knows your mind. of course he does, he spent months, possibly years (depending on how long you managed to evade his addictive personality) dissecting that pretty little brain of yours so that he knew every thought process, every detail. he is obsessed with you and that definitely transfers into the way he fucks you.

he’s slow at first. its a mind game, he wants you to beg for him and he knows that by the end of the night you will, regardless of how defiant you may be. I feel like because of this, he may also be into CNC. obviously you two would consent to it and make a list of rules and things that were okay and not okay. he would abide by all of these rules, because again, he respects your boundaries and doesn’t want you to leave him. he would fuck you nice and slow until your fussy and whining for him to go faster, to fuck you harder.

“What was that little lamb? speak up for me.” he would whisper sweetly into your ear, thrusting hard just once into you, watching the way your eyes toll back into your head. “I need it Ollie.” you whine, tears falling from your eyes in frustration.

“Need what love? Do i look like a mind reader? tell me what you want and you can have it.” he slowly begins to rub your clit in gentle and agonising circles. “I want you to fuck me.” you were breathless and almost delerious with pleasure.

“Want?” “ Oh honey, I thought you needed it? What, you dont need me anymore, hmm? don’t need to feel my love for you? don’t need to feel me break you?” he ask, his once languid thrust coming to a halt. You whine without restraint, cursing him with your teeth clenched dur to the sudden lack if pleasure.

“Tell me you crave me. Tell me you need me, how you can’t breathe without me, how im everything you need. Tell me.” he says, his lips against your ear, his hand round your throat grip tightened, causing your breathing to strain.

“I need you! Please i need to feel you. only you can fuck me this good, please Ollie. make me feel better, i need you to make me feel better…please.” the last please was a desperate whine, so pathetic Ollie had to throw his head back to avoid your soft and innocent gaze. you trailed you hand up to his neck to pull him closer to you, your gaze so piercing and unavoidable that he almost came, his thick cock unmoving in your tight cunt.

“Please Sir.”

oh that one did it. His pace was instantly bruising, so violent that if you didn’t know the extent of his love, you might have thought he wanted you dead. you almost didn’t recognise him. he was like a wild animal, his only aim to fuck you into oblivion.

he mumbled a mix of incoherent praise and degrading comments as your throat became hoarse from your scream like moans. the crying for him to slow down only spurred him on, causing him to shove his fingers in you mouth to dampen your onslaught of noises.

he fuck you dangerously for what could have been hours. you lost count of how many times you came around him. your body felling fuzzy and limp. seeing you so braindead for him had him unleashing what quite easily could have been his 7th load of the night. he watched as a dumb, lopsided grin etched its way into your lips as you felt the warmth of his cum flood your cunt once more.

“look at you so pretty for me, my pretty little lamb.”

well… im back.. i think..

[hedgehog-moss]

Hi, could you tell us more about your night time walks with your cats?

I wrote a post about it last year if you want to check it out :) Usually we go down to the torrent because you can’t get lost with this itinerary; even when you don’t see anything you can hear where the water is, and then going home is just a matter of going up and up until you emerge from the woods. I was a bit concerned about getting lost at first because as an ex-city person, the forest at night is an experience of profound, total darkness that I’d never had before. It’s unsettling and lovely.

(Although the flash and the snow make things look deceptively luminous here.)

The cats usually retreat to the barn in the evening (as they’re supposed to—it’s their prime hunting hour and I want them to keep the hay rodent-free) but when they hear me walk past the barn after dark they’re like “yay we’re going on a walk tonight” and I see three cats jump out of the window one after the other and then follow me. It’s very cute. All four of us enjoy our night walks.

I love how many wild animals you can hear at night (and without Pandolf scaring them off), the forest feels so much more populated than during the day. And I love how lively cats are after sunset.

They spend the day sleeping on the couch or in my bed (depending on whether I’ve made a fire in the living-room) but then at night they keep chasing each other around, climbing on things, exploring, playing pranks on each other... Morille likes to hide (very poorly) behind trees or rocks and then pounce on me or the other cats when we walk past. She does it 12 times per walk and we pretend to be very startled every time to make her feel formidable.

[kedreeva]

I work in a whole foods supply store, and one of our customers is a lovely old lady who lives out on a rural property, way beyond the city limits.

A pair of peacocks have nested and made babies at the edge of her land (two clutches so far this year), and she has taken it upon herself to feed them, so she comes to us to buy food - seeds, chopped nuts and dried fruits.

I know she means well, but she says the babies now come to her door to 'beg' for food, which means they're habituating, so I feel like she's doing them more harm than good.

If you knew of someone doing this, would you leave them to it, or try to dissuade them? Also, is the food I described above actually okay for peacocks?

She says the peahen is a bright, beautiful, unblemished white, which I thought was quite rare? She is going to bring me photos on her next visit...

Unless you're in India, they're not habituating because they're not wild animals, they're feral domestics. If they're hanging around and being fed, congrats, she's got free range peafowl. It's free birds!

As for the mix, I would cut out the nuts. Fruits are fine but they don't really like citrus and they shouldn't have avocado. Fresh fruits are better than dried, dried concentrates the sugars and doesn't provide any hydration. If she'll listen to you, tell her you have a friend that breeds peafowl and that they suggested better treats would be live mealworms or superworms, dubia roaches, farm-raised hornworms, or mouse pinkies. They also like fish (at least feeder fish, but possibly also larger fish they can pick apart) and meats. They can be given veggies, but they don't rip things apart the way chickens do their beaks are not as able to tear into hard things, so veggies should be chopped small. They will happily rip up greens or melons that are cut open though. Banana too! They love banana and berries.

Black oil sunflower seed and safflower are good seeds, limit corn intake. No beans allowed except refried ones. Planting clover in her yard will be a good source of nutrient-rich greens (and good for bees!).

But honestly, a good high-protein dry chow with some water added fresh to it will provide a lot of benefit, just as much attention, and probably be cheaper since you can get 50lb for like $20. I use Belstra 28% turkey starter crumble from a local feed mill. It may not look as interesting but my birds get a LOT of varied treats and chow mash is one they'll eat every day without any hesitation, and leave nothing behind. The only other treats that is true for are bugs and farmer's helper golden egg nugget treats. Even peanuts they have turned their noses up at a couple of times.

As for the white color, it's not that rare. A lot of people don't like to keep them because they get dirty easily and because colored birds often HATE them. Hens often won't mate with them if they can see other males, and males often attack or attempt to chase off white hens. In the wild, a white animal draws attention and opens the flock to predation.

[mattybraps10]

I Can See You | Brendan Brisson x Hughes!OC

Summary: Beer Pong and Lasting Connections.

Word Count: 786

By: M

Parts: part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

PART SIX:

“What do you want…” Brendan sighed, returning his head to his hands. “Dude, what’s up with you? You’re never like this, I don’t understand.” Quinn whispered, sitting beside Brendan and placing a comforting hand on his back.

“I just… I thought I was ready to see her again, I mean 3 years is a long time and… never mind.” He said, shaking his head.

Quinn just sat beside his friend, a confused look on his face as he tried to decipher the vague admission. He ran several scenarios through his head unable to comprehend the real reason for his behavior. It had never occurred to Quinn that someone would disregard their strict rules when it came to Phoebe. Before every teammate met her they were warned away and threatened with almost certain death (banishment from the Hughes household). Now that they were all adults, the rules had become more lenient, a testament to the trust in their friends. 

“I just don’t understand you Brendan. You guys were so close, and then… nothing.” Quinn said, standing up and walking toward the door.

“I know, I mean I don’t, not really. I just, I need a minute to think is all.” He said, leaning back on the couch, a tear falling from his left eye, a poetic reminder of the pain he’d caused for both Phoebe and himself.

“You know I’m here whenever you need anything.” Quinn reminded him softly, resigning himself to return to the ever-louder festivities outside.

–

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!” Phoebe yelled, crossing around the table and tackling her youngest brother.

“GET OFF OF ME!??!” He screeched, batting his arms at her as if she were a wild animal attacking him.

Jack and Matty burst into laughter watching Phoebe take Luke to the ground. Luke had been slowly replacing cups when he felt the other team wasn’t looking, and Phoebe had caught him almost immediately.

“Oh my god! I leave for a second?!?! What happened???” Quinn sighed, walking through the sliding door.

“Luke cheated! He violated the sanctity of this sport!” Phoebe yelled, her arms in a loose, but secure, chokehold around Luke’s neck.

“Luke?” Quinn asked, clearly disappointed in his younger brother.

“Well I mean… Having Matty AND Phoebe together was basically cheating anyway I mean they literally haven’t missed a single shot?? How is that fair?” He pouted, knocking Phoebe off his back, and standing up.

“You guys are such children!” He responded, picking up the cups that had spilled during the commotion.

They all laughed as they cleaned up the spilled beer, stacking the cups for a later date. Matty and Phoebe had found themselves reaching for the same cup, laughing as their hands brushed. 

“Hey guys…” Brendan said, stepping onto the porch, effectively ruining the moment.

“Brendan.” Phoebe said curtly, a frown on her face.

“I’m sorry, I just… I really don’t know what came over me…” He sighed, dropping his heads into his hands once again.

“I- It’s fine Brendan, I know you didn’t mean anything…” Phoebe sighed, resigning herself to her ever-repeating fate. A life of chasing the man she knew she could never have, one she’d thought she’d left behind when she’d been with Matty. A faint glimmer of a different path, obscured by the leaves of a past love.

“Phoebe, why don’t we go inside and grab some hot chocolate, it’s getting kinda cold.” Matty said, placing a hand on her back as he steered her past Brendan and into the safety of the kitchen.

Matty began preparing the hot chocolate, asking Phoebe about school and life and the future. She felt herself opening up to him, her past with Brendan a distant memory with Matty’s presence. She was confused. Confused as to how she could feel so strongly about a man she’d just met. Confused as to why she still wanted Brendan, despite her earlier realization.

Matty finished the hot chocolate, taking a sip of his own as he offered Phoebe a mug. She grabbed the mug, wrapping her hands around the warmth. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie on the couch?” Phoebe asked, grabbing Matty’s hand and leading him to the living room, a gentle smile painting her face.

“Jackson” He said suddenly, a blush creeping onto his face as he sat beside Phoebe.

“Huh?” She asked, confused about his random comment.

“My middle name, it’s not Ingrid, it’s Jackson.” 

“Oh. I like that! Thanks for telling me.” She smiled, grabbing a blanket and draping it over them.

Even though his middle name was far from a secret, Matty found himself entranced by her thanks. She made it seem as if he’d shared a piece of himself with her, one she was proud to keep.

[xdaddysprincessxx]

The Cabin in the Woods ll

Dave York x f!reader

Dark fic/ dead dove, again Dave is mean (he’s a bad guy) also I made him bi in this 🏳️‍🌈, death, sprinkle of angst, sad backstory, the cabin description is sooo self indulgent, Dave pov, female and male masturbation, cum eating, like 1 threat, dirty talk, food & drink, uh I think that’s it.

Summary: it’s been days since you almost escaped from the mystery man. Too bad you failed and he threw you in the basement.

A/n: Here’s part 2 babes!!! Thank you so much for all the kind words and support you’ve given on part 1. It means the world to me. This is lightly edited, I gave it a once over but I’m feeling a lot more confident with this one(:

You can’t help but close your eyes as you look up and let the sun wash over you, warming up your whole body. You’ve always loved the feeling of the sun on your face. The smell of fresh cut grass, the fragrant flowers your mom always planted every spring, the sound of kids running and playing. Being outside in your own little world has always been your favorite place to be. Just as you feel your whole body relax you notice how quiet it got and how quickly the sun has gone and instead been replaced by dark, nasty storm clouds rolling in. The smell of water flooding your nose. You open your eyes to see an empty field. The sun is gone, no sign of life anywhere. And there’s that horrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The sound of rain hitting the small basement windows is what wakes you this time. Shivering, you slowly open your eyes. The basement. The mystery man. You sigh as you remember you’ve been kidnapped and after trying to escape, being thrown in this dark, damp basement. It’s been two, no three days since the mystery man chained you up down here. Honestly your not even sure how long it’s been. Even with the little sunlight you get from the windows, time has escaped you entirely. What you do know is that your starving, thirsty and you feel gross. You are in desperate need of a shower and a 5 course meal asap. Your thoughts are rudely interrupted a few seconds later by heavy footsteps right above your head followed by the chain link being unlocked to the basement door.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

It’s been 3 days since Dave took you and brought you to his cabin. 3 days since he touched you and you bit his dick. Dave is no angel, he’s had plenty of partners over the years. Men and women alike and a few have tried to blow him and scrapped their teeth but never has he had someone bite his dick. At first he was surprised at how well you were responding to him and his touch. He had done his research on you of course. Dave knew all about you before he grabbed you. Had to know who he was dealing with. And yes he did expect you to try to escape but he never expected you to actually get away from him. As bad as his dick hurt, that chase was almost worth it. Something primal about hunting your own prey out in the wild and taking them on the cold, hard ground like a wild animal. He hasn’t came that hard in years.

Dave is pulled from his thoughts quickly when he realizes he should bring you some food and water. It has been awhile and I’m sure she’s starving by now. Maybe she’s learned her lesson, dave thinks as he grabs a plate out of the cabinet and gets to work making you a pb&j and a glass of water.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

You hear the door creak open and you can’t help but wince at the sound of the man’s foot hitting the first step. You do your best to curl into yourself and be as little as possible. You have no idea what he’s gonna do to you and you know there’s a really good chance he hates you. You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, wishing yourself away when the man hits the bottom of the stairs and makes his way to stand in front of you.

Dave clears his throat, “Wake up princess. I brought you something to eat and some water.”

What? He did what? You literally don’t even believe it, your eyes snap open and look up at the man. Holy fucking shit, he really did bring me food and water! You uncurl from yourself, keeping your eyes down, unsure if you should reach out to grab the plate and cup or wait for him to put it down on the ground.

“Are you gonna grab the plate or just sit there? Here.” He says as he shoves the sandwich in your direction.

You don’t need to be told twice, you grab the plate and cup from the mystery man and begin demolishing the pb&j as if your life depended on it. Which it kinda does since one does need food and water to live.

The man just stands there, staring at you while you eat like a rabid animal. A look on his face, half in awe and the other half in disgust? Or maybe he feels bad for starving you and it’s pity? Your not sure.

“Thank you.” You whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your throat feels so sore but after a huge gulp of water, you managed to use your manners.

It almost no time your finishing your sandwich, already wishing you hadn’t ate so fast. “How long will I be down here?” you manage to ask the mystery man.

“I guess it depends. I already told you, if you can be a good girl for me the better this will all be for you.” the mystery man replies to you as he looks away.

“May I take a shower please? And more water? Maybe a blanket? It’s cold down here.” you start to beg already, hoping for a little mercy. “I’ll be good I promise. I’ll do whatever you want. Please I just- I’m dirty and cold and hungry. I’ll do anything.”

The man continues to stand there, contemplating your plea, “Yea but you listen to me. No running away from me, you have to be in my line of sight at all times. If you try anything, I’ll shoot you dead.” he finally answers.

Your eyes grow even wider, looking up at him like a deer in the headlights, “Yes of course I won’t try anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” You replied with a quickness, eager for a shower, food and a warm blanket.

“Alright come on” dave says as he grabs the key from his back pocket to unlock your chains.

Quickly you push your legs out in front of you so the man can get to the chains to unleash you. As soon as your ankles are unchained the man grabs you by your upper arm roughly to help you stand up and before you can get your footing he’s practically dragging you up the stairs.

Once upstairs, you see that the whole cabin is almost like one big room. To the left of the basement door is the kitchen, complete with a little island with a flat top grill. The kitchen then opens up into the living room except it’s not much of a living room. There is an L shaped black leather couch and a big flat screen tv on the wall but no family pictures or decorations. This mystery man is either horrible at home decor or he keeps it minimal for a reason. And the reason you think why scares you even more.

The two of you walk over towards the other side of the living room towards the back where the bedroom was. You didn’t notice it before but there is a door right next to the bedroom door. The man opens it up and flips a light switch to illuminate the most gorgeous bathroom you’ve ever seen. A deep jacuzzi tub sits in the corner directly in front of the door as you walk in, to the right is the toilet and sink. The walls are a beautiful marble gray and the wall behind the tub is a white and gray brick. This cabin is incredible. Maybe in another lifetime you could’ve met him under different circumstances and fallen in love and shared this cabin. Fucking each other everywhere like wild animals.

The man roughly shoves you into the bathroom causing you to stumble. “Ouch” you said quietly under your breath.

“Take your clothes off, soaps on the shelf next to the tub. You can take a bath.” He barks out at you.

“Um okay,” you say as you look around kind of sheepishly, waiting for him to leave or at least turn around so you can undress.

“Go on. Take. Off. Your. Clothes. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Dave tells you.

You can’t help but rolls your eyes at the man. He terrifies you but the whole macho man act he has going on is an absolute joke to you. Do you think he could snap your neck with one hand? Yes. Do you really believe he’s all grr? Partially yes but you really feel like he is soft under all these layers. At the end of the day he’s just a man. And men aren’t indestructible.

You just huff and turn around to start taking off your dirty dress and shoes. Once your naked you bend over to run the water. As you bend over you can’t help but remember how good his cock felt pounding into you. As scared as you were, the mystery man gave you the best fuck of your life. You decide to give him a little show and bend down a little more than necessary, arching your back a little, knowing he can see your pussy on full display this way.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

Watching you undress and bend over has Dave already hardening in his pants. He notices the way you arch your back, almost like your purposefully putting on a show for him. He gets an idea that makes him smirk. And as long as you do what he says, the both of you will be satisfied.

After starting the water, Dave watches you walk over to the shelf and look at the different bubble baths, salts and body washes he has to offer. Originally this cabin was for him and his family. Loving wife and two beautiful daughters. They deserved a good life, much better than Dave. It was his fault they lost their lives. A few years back, dave and his men took a job and it went bad fast. The guy they were sent to kill just so happened to also be an assassin. The guy found out about Dave’s family and cut the brakes on the family van. His wife and girls died in a tragic car accident. It should have been him.

By this point, Dave realizes you were already sitting in the bath, surrounded by sweet, vanilla scented bubbles. With your head laying against the headrest in the jacuzzi tub and your eyes closed, Dave couldn’t help but notice how peaceful you looked. You weren’t a bad person. Definitely not an assassin. But you came too close to exposing him and his men and he couldn’t risk another job gone bad. That’s why he had to take you and save his ass.

Dave saunters over to the edge of the tub and crouch’s down. Looking down at your body, thoughts of taking you right here and now flood his mind. Instead he pushes a button causing the jets to go off. Immediately you shoot up, eyes shooting open, half scared, half confused at what just happened.

Dave starts chuckling at your reaction, “ Calm down sweetheart. It’s just the jets. Help you relax since you will be here for awhile. Might as well get used to this place.”

“How long will I be here?” you ask him, your sweet voice fills his ears. Wishing he was hearing your moans instead.

Dave grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks, making your face squish up and pulls you towards him, “For however long I say little girl.” he responds sternly, “For now I need you to be my good girl and listen to me.”

With a hold still on your face, he moves his so his mouth is right by your ear, “Now get on your knees and face me until you feel the jet on your pussy.” he whispers, his hot breath sending chills down your body despite the warm water.

🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

You were stunned. The way he grabbed your face and then had the balls to whisper that in your ear, your pussy’s wet. The bitch is wet and not because your sitting in water either. You should not be turned on. The way his voice chills you to the bone. The way his touch is like an electrical shock to your system. This man is a killer. You can tell he’s done shit like this before and here you are ready to bend over and take his cock the very second he whips it out.

Speechless, you do as he says and you get on your knees in the tub, facing him. Almost immediately you feel the jet. The pressure of the water hits your clit in such a way you can’t help but let out a soft moan. Through half lidded eyes, you watch the man’s face soften as he watches you.

“Mm I see you found it. It must feel good huh princess?” he asks knowing damn well it does feel good.

“Uh huh” you nod as you shift around to get the jet to hit your pussy just right.

“That’s it pretty girl. Now touch yourself. Put a finger in that pretty pussy for me.” the mystery man said in a deep, guttural tone.

In a flash your hand moves down to your pussy and immediately you plunge two fingers into yourself, trying to get the best angle to hit your sweet spot.

The man finally lets go of your face as he stands up, the front of his lower body directly staring you in the face. He’s quick to unbutton his jeans and pull his thick cock out, already weeping precum. The sight of that alone has you licking your lips.

“Aht. I can see right through you princess. After your little stunt, it’ll be a long time before you get my cock back in that pretty little mouth of yours.” the man says, shutting down any thoughts you had of tasting him again. You did enjoy the feel of his cock in your mouth, enjoyed the taste and how heavy he was before you bit him.

Dave starts stroking his cock in front of your face. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more turned on, the man starts moaning and rolling his eyes to the back of his head as he’s stroking himself.

Holding out his hand towards you, “Spit”, he orders. And spit you do. You spit as best you can onto his hand and watch him lube up his cock with it.

Between the jet putting constant pressure on your clit and your fingers curled up deep inside, you already feel yourself getting close. And from the looks of it, the man’s close too. Without even thinking you look up at him with your best doe eyes and stick your tongue out for him.

“Oh fuck, yea? You want my cum princess? Such a fucking whore, sticking your tongue out hoping I’ll cum all over this pretty fucking face.” he growls, “fuck nngh keep that tongue out baby I’m close fuck”

You fingers start to go into overdrive, plunging in and out of your pussy. You can’t help but go over the edge just from his words. Holy fuck you just wanna be his little slut, he is right you do want him to cum all over your face so bad.

Moaning out loud, you cum hard just as he starts to cum. Rope after rope hits you in the face. Both of you breathing hard as you come down from your high, you take your fingers out of your pussy and bring them up to your face and wipe his cum off only to stick the cum covered fingers in your mouth.

“Mmm” you can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh as you taste him and yourself. Maybe it’s the endorphins from coming but you like this. Something about this man is bringing out this little vixen that’s been laying dormant inside of you for too long.

Dave just stares at you in disbelief. Did she really just do that? And already he can tell he’s fucked. Ever since the first night he took her, there’s something about her that has him wanting more. More of what he’s not exactly sure.

“Come on, finish up. When your done I’ll give you fresh clothes and some blankets.” Dave says flatly as he puts himself back into his jeans. He’s gonna pretend this little performance didn’t happen, for now at least.

Confused by this sudden cold shoulder of sorts, you finish washing your body and hair and reach to grab your towel to dry off as you step out of the bathtub. Once your dried off, you wrap the towel around you and look back at the man to lead you to the next stop.

Once he sees your ready to go, he grabs your arm again but this time not as rough but still has a tight grip and he leads you to the bedroom next door. As you walk in he stops you next to the bed and walks over to the dresser to pull out a old, used tshirt and an old pair of boxers.

“Here, put these on. I don’t have much here but this will do for now.” the mystery man states in a monotone. You move to grab the clothes from him and begin dressing. Once your all dressed you look back up at him for your next directions. Swiftly he grabs your arm once again and leads you out the bedroom. Going towards the basement door he stops at what seems to be a closet in the living room and pulls out a huge comforter and a quilt. Ever the silent type, he wordlessly hands you the blankets and continues on towards the basement door.

Once settled back downstairs, Dave chains you back up and leaves you alone in the dark. You manage to make a little pallet on the floor and curl up under the quilt he gave you. And of course it smells like him. You can’t help but breath the scent in deep as you drift off to sleep.

A/n: !!!! I’m so happy so many of you enjoyed part 1! I really hope part 2 lives up to any expectations you guys have! Thank you so so so much for all the kind words and love you’ve shown my little story!

Tagging a few of you that showed interest: @toxicanonymity @lumoverheaven @neverwheremoonchild @bonezone44 @cool-iguana @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @ennema @pr0ximamidnight @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @outfirewithgasoline @walkintotheriveranddisappear @axshadows @oldenoughtoknowbetterstuff let me know if you don’t want tagged(:

[smallraindrops-blog]

If I may ask

What made you decide to make Icelos her own character?

From what I've read, Icelos/Ikelos/Icelus (so many different spellings) is another name for Phobetor, and it's seems in myth Hypnos never had any daughters, only sons. (I might be wrong, so please feel free to correct me)

I love what we have of her so far and wouldn't want anything to change, but I was curious and wanted to ask.

Long reply.

Honestly three reasons:

One. I got tired of writing of he/him, he/they pronouns. I needed a break lol. Also I think every family need one wild child who happily go in the mud chasing frogs and that is Icelos lol

Two. I thought it they were going each be split up depending on what dreams they were in charge of, it made more sense to me separate Icelos and Phobetor especially since I feel like nightmares are an incredible powerful thing and there are so many animals.

Three. So Hypnos and his kiddos are an odd butch regarding their mythology and stuff. ( I am going to ramble from the notes of my own research, if someone see a mistake, please correct me.)

So fun fact. Dreams were seen as not a personified thing in most cases in ancient Greece. It seems like it seems any gods could send a dream.

The first time we see any mention of the kiddos is during Roman times in Ovid’s Metamorphoses. A Roman writer in 8ce so at least a couple hundred years from the brozon age.

So the children are a Roman addition, it seems. Not a Greek one

Oneiros do existed in Greek but they were seen children of nyx, brothers to hypnos.

So I decided to do a Stanley Pines and write myself a permit to do whatever I want lol.

Tbh I thought of other children for hypnos (along the the attendants becoming their unofficial adopted kids as well)

So maybe the thousands of kids will end up being true. Hahaha.

[desire-mona]

randomly assigning house md characters internet moments / videos / memories / whatever i remember based off nothing at all (i did i dps version too) (also links for everything i talk about will be provided) (also also this isnt made to make fun of anyone involved in any of this)

house - mr beast and his OLD OLD youtube videos, like circa 2015? i think? he used to make cringe compilations essentially where he just made fun of kids' youtube intros. face and all like nothing was blurred for privacy, and then he'd call them cringe and make drinking bleach jokes. like a LOT. i binge watched those back in like 4th grade i think? maybe 5th? so thats kinda all i associate him with now. he also made videos where he would say a word like a thousand times, sometimes WAY more (like 100k+). or like. count to that number, he did both. anyway rip house you wouldve loved making fun of kids' youtube videos

wilson - does anyone remember the evian baby commercials? i think the whole shtick was like "this water makes you feel young again" I THINK? the one i linked was the one where the reflection on a building makes ppl babies, but theres one where babies are on roller skates or whatever too. this isnt entirely an internet moment as much as it is just a memory, cuz i remember my mom and my aunt DYING laughing at these commercials. idk what it was they were just in tears. theres something so 2007-2015 about dancing babies. wasnt a dancing baby the first internet meme? just googled it and yes it was.

cuddy - onision's shitty spoken word songs PLEASE tell me someone remembers them. onision really shouldve stopped trying to make music after the banana song bc the rest really suck shit. this is NOT based on vibes i gotta get that out there, i was like hmm cuddy has a kid. you know who else has a kid? YOU KNOW WHO LET THEIR KID FALL OUT OF A WINDOW? cuddy would fucking HATE onision. ALSO OH MY GOD PAUSE EVERYTHING ONISION JUST UPLOADED A SONG. I NEED TO MAKE A SEPERATE POST ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW WHAT THE HELL. anyway dont watch it. i linked strange æon's video on his music just bc i really dont wanna direct u to anything of his directly. did u know i dont like onision?

foreman - the most insane youtube poop ive ever seen in all of my 19 years of living, i sent this to maddie specifically when i made my initial "like for a rando internet moment!" post but i really need to share it with the general public. general warning for youtube poop-ness; flash, loud noises, overwhelming, etc. i am actually begging you to watch this because it tops every other ytp ive ever seen, like actually blows it out of the water. i also has no idea ppl still made ytps after 2014 tbh.... btw this is probably the only ytp that i'll ever recommend LMAO

chase - OH MY GOD KYLERLOVESJESUS. so basically this one eboy influencer type on tiktok back in 2019 Found God and went on rants about how abortion is wrong and gay marriage is bad and blah blah blah. there was this moment on one of his lives where he went "i love gay people, i would be best friends with a gay person. do i support it? no." which was the FUNNIEST shit back in the day. i would quote it on the daily. btw the editing of the video i linked is VERY of the time so beware LMAO

cameron - cutie the kitten (sans' wife and gf) + the killing videos sans fan girls would make. i actually cant link anything bc the channel doesnt exist anymore but! basically back in 2016ish there was this one girl who had such a crush on sans and she had a whole ocxcanon situation with sans and her pink cat oc Cutie. a lot of ppl hated her + the ppl who had ocs shipped with sans but looking back its truly not a big deal. what is a big deal is that she (? maybe?) and other sans fangirls would make animated slideshow videos of their ocs using powers or whatever to kill other sans fangirls. like brutally. it was a wild time i wish cutie's channel was still up so i could prove thats a real thing, but ask an undertale fan from back then and odds are theyll know. heres a sans fangirl cringe compilation so you kinda know what im talking about, but fair warning it is a cringe compilation so. it wont be nice.

thirteen - TW INCEST!! this one hamilton animatic i saw back in forever ago to the song 'helpless'. usually animatics to that song use eliza and hamilton (im not a hamilton fan this is very surface lvl knowledge btw) but the one i saw was eliza and ANGELICA. like as in HER SISTER. big surprise someone in a big fandom ships incest wow I KNOW its tame compared to other shit, but it was i think my first exposure to anything like that circa 2017ish, so it kinda stuck in the brain. also the video i linked isnt the og its a phil collins mashup, the og got taken down. hamilton always makes an appearance in my house posts doesnt it, be lucky i didnt give kutner this one bc ppl were turn up abt hamilton fan kutner.

taub - WHAT DO YALL KNOW ABOUT MIKE AND MELISSA ⁉️⁉️ basically mike and melissa is this animated passion project this guy made to show himself (or his persona? or maybe just some guy) falling in love with his fursona that comes to life. this was the only episode this guy uploaded and i think he kinda disappeared after. the plot is kinda hard to follow and its not TERRIBLY animated but its certainly not professional looking. there's a video about what happened to him uploaded like 5 months ago, but i havent watched it. when i first heard of mike n melissa i fully thought it was a mid 2000s family sitcom but it definitely Is Not That.

kutner - undertale sans au christmas party comic dub. i probably dont need to give an explanation as to what sans aus are but idk how many ex or current undertale fans follow me so i'll do it anyway. making au's for undertale was a pretty common practice back in its early days, and usually the most popular character in any undertale variation is sans. who sans is shipped with was always up in the air, so much like the onceler, ppl ended up shipping sans with other au versions of himself. this christmas party comic is in my mind the undertale fandom equivalent of camp weehawken. i think there was also a sans au comic where all the sans' except for like 2 were toddlers at daycare? i dont remember who the adult sans' were but also i think the creator got into hot water? dont remember why.

[rosemary-morgan]

John Marston X F.Reader - Revenge is a fools game

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Warning: an angsty one y'all - with a sweet ending

Summary: John is risking everything you two have built just to get revenge. Micah Bell should pay for what he did. Not knowing if John would ever return to you, you suffer his absence every day. But one thing is for sure: you will never forgive him for leaving you…

John Marston X F.Reader - Revenge is a fools game

"John, I'm begging you!" You didn't want to let John go. He was about to lose everything he had worked so hard for. All the effort, all the blood and sweat! Especially the blood! Why was he going to risk it all now? For his honor? For revenge? And what about you? And your new home? Why couldn't he live in peace? The ghosts of the past were catching up with him now, and you knew no matter what you would say, he would never change his mind. "I have to go, Y/N!" You ran after him, grabbing his arm, but you couldn't get him to stop. John Marston was a damn stubborn man. "You don't have to go! John, damn it!" As you got louder, he suddenly stopped and you clung desperately to his arm. As you looked into his eyes, you could see the determination in them. Oh yes, that fire in him had been reignited and it could become the downfall of your story. John reached for your shoulders, gently but firmly. "Don't you understand me, Y/N? Micah has so many lives on his conscience! He's driven us all into the downfall!" "But we have a chance to have the life we've always wanted!" You got louder before bursting into tears, now begging John not to leave. "Please, John… If I lose you, then what? Forget Micah! That bastard will get what he deserves!" But this man was a damn stubborn man. He shook his head as he looked deep into your eyes. "Yes, he will. And I will punish him!" "Punishment is God's business, John!" A loud sigh escaped the young man as he let you go. He saw that fighting would get you both nowhere and he didn't feel like arguing with you. "Y/N, I can't and won't forget what he did to all of us! I beg you, Y/N! Try to understand me!" Before you could say anything, John already stormed out of the bedroom and just left you behind. Your efforts to run after him and call out to him were a waste of time. "John!" He had already disappeared from the house, leaving you alone. Fear spread throughout your body, stretching deep into your guts, which contracted painfully. If anything would happen to him, you would lose everything. For John was the man you had grown to love. He wasn't perfect, but neither were you. With a quiet sob, you dropped to the floor and then the tears finally burst out of you. Micah! After so many years, he was still causing them so much pain. Of course, on the one hand, you could understand that John wanted his revenge. You also wished Micah only the worst for what he had done. There was an infinite amount of blood on his hands. You had seen your friends, your family die and until today you had not completely come to terms with it. But what was the point of chasing Micah now?

♦♦♦♦

Days and weeks passed. You didn't know if John was still alive or if his body was lying around somewhere to be forgotten by the world. Eaten by wild animals. Christ, you didn't even know if he was okay or if he was going to die alone! All these thoughts were bothering you day after day. Sadie Adler should be damned! Hadn't she been able to let it go? She had wanted Micah? Then she could have done her own job instead of dragging John into all this shit! After all, wasn't it better to hold on to something you had? Instead of chasing the wind? Oh, if John came home in one piece, you'd pay him back. You were so mad and hurt! Well… you were until just a few days ago. But by now you just wish he would come back to you…

You took care of the ranch and the house as best you could, but it all became too much. Eventually you threw the wet rag into the bucket before sighing heavily and finally bursting into tears. With a quiet sob, you bent over the kitchen counter, holding onto it. Your happiness had not lasted long, and you had dreamed of becoming a mother one day. To raise a child. Here, in this beautiful house that John had built. You couldn't stop crying, cursing the day Micah Bell joined your gang. Him and Dutch Van Der Linde! The man who had used you all, blinded you all. With his narcissistic nature, he had everyone wrapped around his finger, always trying to get what he had desired. It was too late when you realized what kind of person he really was.

You desperately needed some relaxation right now. Hoping to steer your thoughts in another direction, you took a bath. But as much as you tried, you couldn’t succeed. But you had neither the strength nor the desire to continue crying. In the meantime, you were tormented by headaches from all the crying. Your cheeks were already glowing, your eyes were swollen and red. "Oh, God…" With a loud sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, listening to the loud chirping of the crickets playing their song in the field. Instantly you thought of how John had been annoyed by the chirping of the crickets. It had robbed him of sleep some nights, while you, on the other hand, had slept wonderfully to this sound. John had tossed and turned in bed, putting the pillow over his head to muffle the loud noise, but it had never helped him.

You had to realize that your thoughts had nothing to bring out but John Marston…

♦♦♦♦

It was the middle of the night when John arrived at Beecher's Hope with Charles. They had both had a long ride and John could not describe how happy he was to be back home. Back with you and to the life that really mattered. Micah was dead and John was pleased. Now he could enjoy his life the way it was meant to be. John was pretty sure you would welcome him with open arms. But that would have to wait until morning. John led his stallion into the stable. His companion had earned a rest and a good night's sleep. And what Zacharia liked best was when John groomed his coat. But there was still time for that. Nevertheless, John rewarded his stallion with a juicy apple. "Good boy." John ran his hand over Zacharia's face. You could tell the animal was very exhausted and so was his owner. "Our horses are very tired. They have served us well. A man can't be prouder of his faithful companion," Charles commented as he too gave his mare a treat. "Charles, make yourself comfortable. You can stay as long as you like," John said as he turned away from Zacharia. His eyes fell on his house. All the lights were out and you were probably deep in sleep. John had to admit that in retrospect he was a little worried about whether you would really welcome him with open arms. In the end, he had risked everything, put it all on the line. and he would be lying if he said it was easy to kill Micah. John had narrowly escaped death and at that time, your words had immediately come to his mind. Everything had been brought to his mind. How you had begged him not to go, but to stay with you here in Beecher's Hope. John felt bad about that. It seemed like he would never learn from his mistakes. "Thank you, John. I really appreciate it!" Charles would not stay in Beecher's Hope forever. He had talked a few times during the trip about how much he wanted to go to Canada; building a family and settling down there. John wished him all the luck in this world, but he would miss Charles very much. "Good night, Charles." "Night."

John sighed softly as he made his way to the front door of his house. He was about to reach for the doorknob when he suddenly paused. Deeply he inhaled as an uncomfortable feeling gripped him. His stomach tightened somewhat painfully. He was very nervous, but in the end he knew he couldn't avoid a possibly awkward conversation with you; but he didn't want to either. Eventually, he quietly entered the house and made his way to the couch, sitting down in front of the fireplace. It was dark in his house, yet his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. John spent the night in the living room. But instead of having a restful sleep, he lay sleepless on the couch, thinking about many things for hours. Eventually, he was so annoyed by it that he went outside and got to work. The first rays of sunshine were just beginning to fall on Beecher's Hope as John scooped water for the animals and also bottled water for the tub. He would desperately need a bath after the long ride and after the morning's activities. "Morning' Charles!" "Good to see you." Charles smiled back at him. He had already set up a small campfire, and was brewing fresh coffee. "I'll help you clean out the barn in a minute, John." "No pressure, Charles." Charles could tell by the look on young Marston's face that he hadn't been sleeping. Something seemed to be bothering him. "What's on your mind, John?" John was a little surprised when Charles asked him about his well-being. Was it so obvious that something was bothering him? "Can't fool you, huh?" A soft laugh escaped John, then he sighed and joined Charles at the campfire. "I'm worried about Y/N." "Oh, okay." "Yeah, she was so upset when I went off to hunt Micah. She was crying, begging me not to go. But I… I couldn't give her any consideration." Charles listened very carefully, but kept his eyes on the coffee pot to make sure nothing boiled over. "Micah got what he deserved. But I can also understand why Y/N wasn't thrilled about your trip." John sighed, running his hand over his face. "Shit…"

♦♦♦♦

You woke up the first time the cock started crowing. It was so loud, you couldn't help but hear it. But that was your morning routine. You had slept quite deeply. Lavender must have brought some miraculous effects. You really needed it. As you sat up and stretched your body, you could make out sounds that were coming from outside. You paused, trying to listen, but you couldn't make out any voices. So you got up, put on your fine robe and went outside. You could only guess it was John, and you hoped it was him. And when you saw him sitting by the campfire, together with Charles, you were so infinitely relieved but your legs did not move from the spot. There was still great disappointment and anger inside you about him. You were hurt; of course you were happy to see them well but it could have gone differently. Charles noticed you first and then gently nudged John to get your attention. John immediately turned in your direction, rose from his seat and looked over at you. Silently, Charles watched the whole thing, feeling it was an awkward moment. Neither of you made a move until John broke the silence. "Darlin' I'm back…" A small smile crept onto his lips, but faded when he saw your serious expression. You had your arms crossed, just looking at him silently, and John saw how hurt you still were. "Y/N?" You just turned away and moved back into the house. John could hardly believe what had happened. Not even a simple smile? He had expected that you wouldn't hug him. But would you react so coldly? That hurt John. Weren't you happy to see him? Sighing, he ran his hand over his face, swearing softly. "Fuck…"

Two days passed and you avoided John, but at least you talked to him, even if the communication between you was cold and very lacking in words. John was getting fed up with this. He had tried to approach you often enough, but you had refused to pay him any attention.

At dinner there was again an icy silence between you. You barely touched your food while John finished his plate. It had been a hard day's work and he was grateful for this savory meal. "Would you like some coffee?" you asked as you rose from the table to place the plates away. "No," John replied simply. Sighing softly, he tapped his fingers on the table, looking at you, all tense. A few minutes passed. Silently, he watched you do the dishes. It was finally enough! "For God’s sake, Y/N! How long are you going to play this game?" Closing your eyes for a moment, you paused in your movement. You would listen to what he had to say. Maybe he was finally sorry for leaving you. You had your pride, too, because until now you had always given in when you had argued. "At least look at me, Y/N!" John suddenly stood behind you, spun you around to face him, and held your shoulders so he could look you in the eye. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't seem happy at all that I'm back! Tell me…" Oh no, you wouldn't let him get away with that statement, but you let him finish speaking. Your heart started pounding like crazy and you got nervous. This was going to turn into a big fight. "Should I have stayed up there, huh? Would you have preferred not to have to bear seeing my face anymore? Say something, Y/N!" He got louder, causing you to flinch slightly. You broke free of his grip, tears welling up in your eyes. "Do you really think that, John?" "What am I supposed to think, Y/N?! For Christ sake! You've been avoiding me since I got here. You keep rejecting me, don't even let me touch you anymore!" There had to be another reason for your state of mind. Suddenly John paused, his eyes narrowed, looking at you closely. "Have you met another man?"

His voice was dark, dripping only with contempt. You were so shocked by his words that you couldn't answer at first. Did he really believe that? "How… dare you, John?", your voice was just a whisper. Shaking your head you look at him, still having to process his words. "Tell me, Y/N! Did you spread your legs for another man?!" He grabbed your arms again and for the first time in your relationship with John, you feared him. Nonetheless, you reached out with your hand and gave him a hard slap. Your tears could no longer be held back and John seemed to have immediately realized that he had gone too far. Reminding himself to calm down, he ran his hand over his face, sighing softly. "I… I'm… I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry. I don't know what… what got into me." "I am so angry with you! You made me beg! I begged you not to go! But what did you do? You put everything you have at risk!" There was so much pain, so much suffering in your voice, and John could now see the full measure of his selfishness. Now, admittedly, you hadn't been fair to him either. "That beast is dead now, yes! But has that brought the others back to life? Arthur, Molly, or Hosea? Young Lenny and Sean! Susan! They're still dead!" You gestured wildly, beside yourself. Everything you had bottled up in the last weeks, months and years, burst out of you. Dutch van der Linde was also to blame for everything. Micah could not be held responsible for every death. "They're deep under the earth!" you said loudly, pointing your finger at the ground. "Dead! Eaten to pieces by the maggots! None of them left, John!" "Y/N…" John had never seen you so hurt before. He was beginning to realize just how much you had suffered over the past few years. "And I don’t want you to end up the same way they did John! Everything we had worked hard for, you risked throwing away!" "I'm sorry Y/N…" "You're an asshole!" you shouted, hitting his chest as tears ran down your reddened cheeks. John allowed you to hit him a few times, because you should let your anger run free. The first step to healing. "I thought I would never see you again! I was miserable, John! Do you understand?! I hate you!" This time he grabbed your wrists and made you stop. Eventually you gave it up too and leaned out to him, whereupon John wrapped his arms around you and held you close. "Forgive me…" The slight trembling of your body was immediately noticed by John, whereupon his heart started beating wildly. He really hadn't been aware of hurting you like that. You just wanted to live a normal life. Far away from the life of outlaws. Away from violence! You could have it all. Here, at Beecher's Hope. John embraced your delicate face that seemed so fragile in his hands. But his touch was so gentle. He looked at you, his cheeks wet, for he too had stopped holding back his tears. "It's finally over, Y/N. And I can live the life I want for us. Without being afraid of old ghosts haunting us." "John…" Even though he could never banish Arthur from his heart. His brother who had done everything he could to give his family a better life. John kissed you; deeply and intimately. Savoring every moment, wrapping your arms around his neck.

A life full of hope was waiting for you and John. You just have to keep your eyes open and reach for the little things. And little by little, something big comes out of it.

[bullet-prooflove]

Mine - Brian Zvonecek x Reader (NSFW)

Rated M for SMUT

Tagging: @justmeandanoverdrive @cosmic-psychickitty @shay-o-fiction @k-k0129 @brianbabygirlzvonecek @ikbenplant @ortega29 @crazy4chickennuggets @neapolitantoebeans @cixrosie @bradshawsdarlin @horny-and-sad27 @gummybabey @mysoulisasunflower @luckyladycreator2 @kabloswrld @persage @whoreforhondo @anime-weeb-4-life

Brian has always been secure in your relationship. He has no problem with your male friends and when he sees a guy flirting with you at the bar, he feels sorry for them because if you aren’t giving fuck off vibes, you’re telling it to their faces. There was only one thing that triggered his possessive streak, or he should say one person and that was your ex, Tommy Welch.

It was irrational but Welch had a way of getting under his skin, even before he had fallen in love with you. The other man was antagonizing and brash and he clearly still had a thing for you. When he looked at you, it felt that he was undressing you and Brian hated the fact that Welch had seen you naked, that he knew what he was missing. It flicked a switch in Brian’s brain when the other man touched you, it was always fleeting. A hand on your lower back to guide you out of someone else’s way, his fingertips on your arm when he wanted your attention, the way his smile turned up a thousand watts when he saw you.

“She’s yours for now, but you’ll never keep her.”

He remembered those words from Welch the last time they were on shift together. It had taken every single ounce of his self-restraint to not punch the other guy out. He didn’t understand how Welch had landed a girl like you in the first place. If it had been a casual fuck, he probably would have understood it, but it had been a year, a whole fucking year you had been tied to that man. Brian simply did not understand how you put up with him.

Tonight, Welch was in full form. He’d been hovering around your table all night, before he ‘ran into you’ on your way back from the bathroom. Brian hated seeing Welch in your proximity, hated the way his body overshadowed you. He knew what was going to happen before you did, and it sent a pulse of rage ricocheting through him.

He was prepared for the kiss, but he wasn’t prepared for the slap, and neither was Welch. He clasped his hand to his cheek, his expression wounded as you slipped past him and through the door to the ‘staff only’ area.

Brian threw down the towel he’d been using to clean the glasses with, and followed you through the door. You turned when you heard it close behind you. The adrenaline of the event still chasing through your system, charging like electricity in your veins. When you turned to face him, the look in his eyes was wild and dangerous. There was a recklessness inside of him, and you wanted it, you wanted him to claim you, to remind you of what it felt like to be possessed by him.  

“You have no idea what it does to me, to see him touch you like that.” He said roughly, his voice flush with desire, the fingertips on his left-hand twitching.

“Oh Brian.” Your murmured, your fingers already on his belt. “I think I do.”

His hands came to rest on yours, stopping you from moving any further.

“Turn around.” He commanded; his voice rough. “I want to get my hands on that ass.”

The sound of his voice, the rawness of it, made you soaked. You obeyed him, turning around so your palms came to rest upon the surface of the metal preparation table. He pressed the length of himself up against you, his chest firm and solid, his hips pinning yours against the table. He buried his face into the curve of your throat, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so fucking good.” He told you, his fingertips popped the button on your jeans before he tugged the fabric down over your ass. His palm slid over your panties, fingertips seeking out your clit through the cotton. “So wet already. Is that all for me?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.” You told him, your hand reaching back to touch him. Brian grasped your wrist and placed your palm back down on the table as he tutted.

“Hands back down on the table, sunshine.”

His fingertips hooked your underwear before he dragged that fabric down your thighs. His palm slid down to your ass, roving over it and squeezing it once before he spanked it. You moaned as his hand ran over it again, thumb tracing the pink flush.

“The belongs to me.” He told you as he undid his belt, before undoing the button on his jeans. “Your ass, your pussy, every single part of you is mine.”

You felt the press of his bare skin against yours. His hand came to grip your shoulder, his thumb chasing up the nape of your neck and sending a thousand stars shooting through your synapses. The head of his cock rubbed over your slick folds, tracing over your needy core.

“Do you need this, sunshine?” He asked you, his voice gravelly with want. “Do you need me to remind you belong to?”

“Please Brian, just give it to me.” You whined, arching your hips in an attempt to fuck yourself on his dick. He tutted again, this time using the pressure of hand on the back of your neck to force you down until your chest was pressed against the metal table. He used his boot to gently urge your ankles even further apart.

“You’re dripping for me.” He muttered. “You know how good you look spread out like this, anyone could come in and see this beautiful pussy but I’m the only one that gets to fuck it aren’t I?”

“The only one.” You whimpered. “The only one that gets to touch me.”

“That’s right sunshine.” He said as he entered you slowly. “I’m the only one.”

He made sure you felt him, sinking into you inch by inch, filling you. He held you in place before he drew back and started all over again. It was heaven, fucking heaven, the rake of his cock over your inner walls, his weight pressing you down as he began to pick up the pace. You loved this feral, dominant side of him, the way he fucked you with abandonment. It was sensual in its own way, a savage sort of intimacy that sated the wild and reckless parts of you, he was the only man that had been able to do that, to mix tenderness and roughness. To give you what you needed.

“You’ve ruined me, Brian.” You told him between punctuated gasps. “Wrecked me for anyone else. There’s no one else that has ever fucked me like this, whose ever made me feel the way you do.”

“I want him to hear you.” Brian said as he thrust into you, hitting that deviant spot deep inside, the one that made you lose your fucking mind. His fingers threaded through your hair, tugging it at the roots, sending an explosion of fireworks ricocheting through your synapses as he pulled you back against him. His lips ghosted over your ear as his fingertips traced over your clit. “Don’t hold back sunshine, he needs to know your mine.”

“Fuck Brian.” You whimpered as that heat rushed through your nerve endings like tiny starbursts. “I want him to know how good you fuck me.”

Brian buried his face into the curve of your shoulder, biting down on the sensitive flesh, marking you as his own. The pleasure and the pain intermingled sending you hurtling over the edge with his name on your lips, a riptide of ecstasy overwhelming your senses and dragging you under. You clenched around his cock like a velvet fist, gripping him so tightly he cried out as came with you, spurting deep inside. He held you against him in the aftermath, his arm supporting you around the waist as he whispered into your ear one word.

“Mine.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[layingatyourfeet]

love is yellow

hizashi yamada x reader

cw: idiots in love, brief mention of rehab, fem reader, fingering (f receiving), piv sex, me being way too emotional for this 2d man

on the first day of spring Hizashi picks you up from rehab. he’s giving you a bouquet of sunflowers that’s just ridiculously huge and bright for this grey day. and the moment he sees your smile for the first time in 4 months he believes the sun is out and it’s the brightest day of his life.

the ride home is silent. just some song you’ve never heard before, his gentle humming and you hissing at the cup of tea that’s just too hot.

and you want to believe everything is going to be fine now. and it truly is, you’re wearing his shirt, staying in his apartment you’ve spent countless nights in, smelling the shampoo you’ve missed so much.

except nothing is fine. you wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and you hear him talking to himself. how it should’ve been him who should’ve died instead shikarumo. how he would rather trade places with him so two of you could be happy. to start a family and have kids.

he doesn’t expect you to slide under the blanket, wrapping your arms around his torso. to hear you whisper that he’s an idiot for thinking that and losing him would hurt just as much, because loving your friends is not that different from love to your partner.

“i guess it’s nice to be loved as a friend” he whispers back.

he doesn’t know why are you two whispering, after all it’s just two of you in the apartment.

when he hears you say “i love you more than a friend though” he thinks his hearing is fucked up. or he’s having one of those weird dreams. but then you say “you don’t have to say it back, i’m sorry for making you uncomfortable” he audibly gulps. he’s lost for words and all he can do is cup your cheek with large palm and press a chaste kiss to your forehead. another one to your nose. to your cupid’s bow and finally your lips. they’re so soft, unsure and featherlike you have to chase him for another. to take his palm and press a kiss to the knuckle of the hand that saved you, that was saving you all the time since you met. to every freckle, beauty mark, line, like you’re trying to atone for years of torture and neglect.

and when your drag his hand to your sleeping shorts all he can do is breathe out “are you sure?” just for you to reply “feel for yourself”.

and when he drags his fingers through your wet folds he truly believes. his touch is unsure, like he’s trying to pet a wild animal that can run away any second. slow tight circles to your clit and finger grazing your opening and all you can do is let out a shaky moan and roll your hips into his touch. there’s no need for words. it’s just you, faint sound of the rain, car alarm going off somewhere in the distance and the sound of his fingers gently pumping in and out of you.

you blindly rummage through his nightstand to pull out a condom, to open it with shaky fingers, pull hizashi’s dick out of his briefs and to roll a condom on. to guide him into you and slowly roll your hips again. and that’s when he loses it. he’s starring at your collarbone, contemplating the meaning of life. he only snaps back to reality when you brush a strand of his hair from has face and trace the outline of his jaw. and he’s done for. he leaves feverish kisses all over your neck, whispering “i’m yours, i’m all yours, i’d do anything for you, i’m your slave”, every thrust punctuated with firm “i love you”. with all this praise ringing in your ears your orgasm is crushing over you like a tidal wave. all you can do is to cling to hizashi and whine, your walls milking his cock dry. he collapses on top of you, lips pressing soft kisses to the bites he left earlier, gently licking the marks you’ll see tomorrow.

breathing heavily, almost like you’re drowning, there’s nothing you can do but whisper “i’m yours too” back.