#no fighting in the tags. only peace and love in discussions

[vocaloid-tunes]

So like do you think vocaloid is an acceptable general term for all vocal synths (the same way people will say kleenex about any tissue) bc I've had my tag be vocaloid for vocal synth stuff for years (I know this is a non-issue in the real world just curious about what other vocal synth fans think)

Who even cares (joking)

All kidding aside, its up to you. We still call ourselves vocaloid-tunes even though its very much not just vocaloid only anymore.

All of this is 100% a non issue but I will give my two cents anyways

My personal opinion is that calling a specific voice "a vocaloid" when it isnt is kind of a pet peeve for me (like calling teto a vocaloid), but speaking about vocal synths in general or speaking about multiple voices and using the world "vocaloid" similar to Kleenex for tissues I feel is perfectly fine

At the end of the day, everyone is different and as long as everyone understands what the other person means, its kind of unfair to just jump at them or go "ERM ACHSHUALLY THEYRE NOT A VOCALOID THEYRE FOR THE VOCALSHIT SLOP ENGINE, YOU FAKE FAN", because like I think most people can and should assume that you are speaking in general if you say something like "yeah I like vocaloids" to mean more than just vocaloid engine by yamaha specifically

EDIT: Also yeah for tumblr tagging its way more convenient to just use vocaloid or whatever tag you already had, so there's no judgement here

[baronessvonglitter]

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader | wc: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[sh4nksslvt]

Hello, hello, hello, beautiful, gorgeous, divine

I love your story Marco nooo I love all your stories you are fantastic

I love you, please beg for something. Can you create a Marco the Phoenix story for y/n? Where y/n saves Thatch's life by stopping Teach's attack? Thatch was injured, but not seriously, losing the yami yami nomi. However, y/n was seriously injured protecting her nakama. Marco and Ace, his brother, are very worried. More so Marco 😏 Since the young woman wasn't waking up, When she regained consciousness, she played a joke on Marco for being so worried, Pretending not to recognize them 🤣 Later, Y/n spoke to Whitebeard, discussing the traitor and how dangerous he would become in the future. When she returned to Marco, she lay down next to him, thanking him for taking care of her all that time, and that even though she couldn't answer him, she always heard him calling her. Please, I implore you.

lmaoao this is funny i like it! dahaha u can support me through ko-fi, but please know that tips are never expected but always deeply appreciated! also I hope this is to ur liking!

Teach Tried It, I Survived It

After stopping Teach’s betrayal and nearly dying, you wake up in Marco’s arms—and decide that pranking him with fake amnesia is exactly what he deserves before finally falling into the comfort of home and love.

Marco the phoenix x reader tags: slight angst, sfw, ooc, bl00d/v!olence, happy ending, betrayal, a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sun blazed high over the open sea, casting golden light across the deck of the Moby Dick. The battle was well underway — a scrappy band of pirates had made the monumental mistake of challenging the Whitebeard Pirates. Bad for them. Good for everyone else who needed a bit of exercise.

You ducked under a wild swing from some random enemy pirate, spun on your heel, and delivered a solid punch to his gut. He crumpled with a satisfying oof.

"Oi! Y/N!" Thatch shouted from a few feet away, grinning like a maniac, a strange fruit in his hand. "Check this out!"

You sliced another pirate across the side with your blade (nothing fatal, you were feeling merciful today) and jogged over.

"What did you find this time?" you asked, breathing hard, a spark of excitement lighting your eyes.

Ace clambered over a fallen mast to join you. "Yo, Thatch, whatcha got?"

Thatch held the thing out like it was a newborn kitten. The fruit was round and black with swirling violet patterns, almost like the night sky had been trapped inside it.

"I found something interesting," he said proudly.

Ace squinted. "Ohhh... is that a Devil Fruit?"

You leaned closer. "Looks like one. Wonder what it does."

Behind you, a presence stiffened. You glanced over your shoulder.

Teach — good ol' big, laughing Teach — was standing there, his usual grin stretched way too tight. His forehead was shiny with sweat despite the easy fight. When he noticed you looking, he barked out a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Heh! Devil Fruit, huh? Zehahaha! Who knows? Maybe it's a lame one, like making your farts turn into explosions!"

Ace snorted. "Wouldn't put it past the sea."

You shook your head, laughing, not noticing the way Teach’s hands clenched at his sides.

That night, the Moby Dick was peaceful. The waves lapped lazily against the hull. Most of the crew was sprawled across the deck or below, snoring, laughing, or drinking.

You had just curled up in your hammock when a strange noise cut through the stillness.

Scuffle.

You bolted upright, instincts screaming. Without a second thought, you grabbed your weapon and padded silently toward the sound.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

There, in the dim lantern light, was Teach — stabbing Thatch through the side.

"Teach?!" you gasped.

Thatch grunted, struggling, but Teach was too strong. His eyes were wild, desperate, like a man possessed.

Without hesitation, you leapt into action.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! TEACH! HOW DARE YOU!?" you roared, slamming into Teach with everything you had.

The two of you crashed into the deck. Your blade flashed; Teach snarled and swung a fist, and you met it with a grimace, blocking the worst of the blow. It was chaos — wood splintered under your feet as you battled, the sounds waking a few of the closer crewmates.

But Teach was slippery. He was fighting like a man who had nothing left to lose, and with one last shove, he pushed you back, making you stumble.

Your foot caught the edge of a broken beam, and before you could react, Teach's fist landed squarely on the side of your head. The world spun instantly, your vision going blurry as the impact sent you crashing to the ground.

“Y/N!” Thatch cried weakly from where he was still slumped, blood dripping from his side.

You blinked hard, trying to regain your senses. A searing pain throbbed in your head, and the edges of your vision blurred even further. You could barely hear anything over the ringing in your ears as your body felt like it was on fire.

Just as you tried to push yourself up, Teach took his chance, grabbing the mysterious fruit from Thatch’s weakening grip. His sinister laugh filled the night air as he turned and bolted into the shadows, vanishing before anyone could stop him.

You couldn’t chase him.

Your body was failing you.

With a grunt, you collapsed to the floor, dizziness consuming you. Your world tilted, everything spinning as blood pooled beneath you. The last thing you heard was the frantic sound of footsteps.

.

.

When you cracked your eyes open, it was to the blinding white of the infirmary ceiling. Everything hurts, your head hurts.

The room was filled with silence, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside the bed. Marco sat slumped forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed in exhausted vigilance. He hadn’t left your side in days — barely eating, barely sleeping. Even Ace, who was normally a ball of chaotic energy, was quieter than a graveyard at midnight, sitting against the wall and anxiously tossing a small ball between his hands.

Then, finally, the miracle happened.

You groaned.

Marco was upright so fast he nearly knocked over the chair. "Y/N?!"

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light. Slowly, you turned your head, taking in the sight of Marco — disheveled, wide-eyed, hopeful — and Ace, who had shot to his feet, mouth hanging open in disbelief.

You blinked a few times. A mischievous thought bubbled up. You couldn't resist. Then you tilted your head in confusion.

"...Who are you?" you rasped, your voice hoarse from disuse.

The world froze.

Marco actually stumbled back a step, his mouth parting in horror. "W-What?"

Ace dropped the ball he'd been tossing — it hit the floor with a pathetic little bounce. "No way," he muttered, eyes wide as saucers.

You frowned, genuine confusion painted across your features. "Where am I? What happened? Are you... my doctors?"

Marco choked on air. "Doctors?! w-well, I am! but..." His voice cracked, his wings briefly puffing out in shock. "Y/N—it's me! It's Marco-yoi!"

You gave him a pitying, bewildered look, like he was some delusional lunatic. "I'm sorry, I... I don't know any 'Marco.'"

Ace ran a hand down his face, whispering to himself, "Oh my god, oh my god, Pops is gonna kill us."

Marco dropped to his knees by the bed, panic etched into every sharp line of his face. "Y/N, please, listen! It's me! You—you always called me 'birdbrain'! Remember? And Ace—he's the loud one! You always yell at him!-yoi"

You gave a tiny, skeptical squint at Ace. "He does look like he yells a lot," you mumbled thoughtfully.

Ace put a hand over his heart, wounded. "Hey!"

"Y/N..." Marco reached for your hand, his own trembling. "Please tell me you're joking."

You pulled your hand away, shrinking back against the pillows dramatically. "S-sir!, I don't even know you! Why are you touching me?!"

Ace looked between you and Marco, starting to sweat buckets. "She really doesn't remember us?! Oh my god—I'm not ready to raise someone! I can barely keep my plants alive!"

Marco paled. "Ace, this isn't about raising—"

"We'll have to teach her everything again!" Ace wailed. "How to walk! How to talk! Oh no—do you even remember how to eat?"

You blinked at him, deadpan. "I don't know... can you show me?"

Ace immediately picked up a banana from a nearby fruit basket and started dramatically demonstrating how to eat it, like some crazed tutorial video.

"First you PEEL it," he said loudly, yanking the peel down and waving it in your face. "Then you put the FOOD PART in your MOUTH—"

"Enough!" Marco barked, his voice cracking with desperation.

He turned back to you, gripping the edge of the mattress. His eyes were so blue and so full of heartbreak that you nearly cracked right there.

"Y/N..." he whispered, voice raw. "Even if you don't remember me... I'll stay with you. I'll protect you until you remember. I swear it."

Your throat tightened.

You stared at him for a long, tense moment.

Then you cracked a wicked smile.

"...Dumbass," you wheezed, voice croaky but full of teasing mischief. "Of course I remember you, pineapple head!"

The silence was so thick you could hear a pin drop.

Ace's banana hit the floor.

Marco stared at you, eyes wide, processing... and then, "WHAT?!"

You burst into a fit of raspy laughter, clutching your sides painfully. "Oh my god, the LOOK on your face—!" you cackled, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

"You little—!" Marco sputtered, half lunging at you and half hugging you at the same time.

"You should've seen yourselves!" you wheezed. "Ace was about to teach me how to chew!"

Ace pointed an accusing finger at you. "You gave me a heart attack, Y/N! I was ready to start teaching you object permanence!"

Marco collapsed onto the side of the bed, groaning into your blanket. "I can't believe you did that-yoi. I was ready to—!" His voice broke again.

You smiled softer now, reaching out and brushing his messy blond hair back from his face. "I'm sorry, Marco... couldn't resist. You were just too easy."

He lifted his head, cheeks flushed slightly, a trembling smile forming. "You're the worst," he said hoarsely, voice thick with relief.

"And you love me for it," you teased.

"...Yeah," he whispered back, no hesitation at all.

You blinked.

Your heart fluttered.

Ace, oblivious as usual, was still dramatically re-enacting how he was going to "re-educate" you with flashcards and alphabet songs in the background. You and Marco stared at each other, soft and quiet amidst the chaos, and for a moment, the world was right again.

You were safe. You were alive. You were home.

.

.

Later, once the fuss had died down (and Ace had finally been dragged off to sleep), you found yourself summoned to Whitebeard’s quarters.

The old man sat on his throne-like chair, the steady pulse of his IV a soft, constant background noise.

"You fought well, little one," Whitebeard said, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. His gaze was heavy, serious. "But you were lucky."

You nodded, bowing your head respectfully.

"Teach..." you began.

Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed.

"He was after that fruit," you said grimly. "It wasn’t random. He knew what it was. And if he went so far as to attack Thatch, his own crewmate..." You shook your head. "He's dangerous. More dangerous than we realized."

Whitebeard grunted, the sound low and displeased.

"A traitor among my sons," he murmured, anger flashing in his gaze. "We will hunt him down."

You hesitated. "He has the Yami Yami no Mi now. I don't know much about it, but I saw enough. That fruit... it's not normal. His power—"

"—Will be immense," Whitebeard finished.

You nodded grimly.

There was a long silence.

"You did well protecting your brother," Whitebeard said at last, his expression softening. "Rest now. Heal. We have a long road ahead."

You bowed again and left, heart heavy but determined.

When you returned to the infirmary, Marco was there, perched like a golden phoenix on the edge of the bed.

He looked up, immediately easing when he saw you.

"Hey, yoi," he said softly.

You didn’t say anything. Instead, you limped over and, without asking, slid onto the bed beside him.

Marco froze, startled — and then melted, wrapping an arm carefully around your shoulders so you didn’t jostle your injuries.

For a while, you just lay there, breathing together.

Finally, you spoke, voice quiet against his chest.

"Thank you."

He tilted his head down, puzzled. "For what-yoi?"

"For staying," you murmured. "For talking to me even when I couldn’t answer. For calling me back."

Marco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"You heard me?" he whispered.

"Every word," you said, smiling faintly. "Even when I was somewhere dark... you were there."

Marco closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You scared me so bad," he whispered, voice raw. "I thought I'd lost you-yoi"

"You didn’t," you promised.

He kissed your forehead, the gentlest brush of lips, barely a touch.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said.

Marco smiled — a real one, full of love and hope and lingering fear.

"Good," he said, pulling you closer. "Because I’m not letting you out of my sight-yoi."

You chuckled softly, your heart full despite the pain.

"Guess you're stuck with me," you teased.

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Marco said against your hair.

And for the first time since everything had gone to hell, you felt truly safe.

[animeyanderelover]

Hello, and I would like to mainly praise your writing. Hello, I love your stories so much, they are so addictive and fascinating. Your Yanderes are so well developed and intricate.

Character list to write about (Hashirama Senju, Mito Uzumaki, Madara Uchiha, and Tobirama Senju)

With a female reader who is absurdly powerful in all types of jutsu - ninjutsu, genjutsu, taijutsu, fūinjutsu, senjutsu, and shinjutsu, etc. The reader has Absolute Condition; *_https://powerlisting.fandom.com/wiki/Peak_Human_Condition/Absolute_*

Reader's story: https://docs.google.com/document/d/16fzdrI1h39lOXhqAfAbRr-4G1xQoK7TLCdPdkH2Cp1c/edit?usp=drivesdk

🎀♥️♥️♥️♥️

I couldn't open the google document so I couldn't include the post you had probably envisioned.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, obsession, clinginess, controlling behavior, paranoia, isolation, death

Tags: @shumidehiro @swagenemyartisan @cachamata

S/o is absurdly powerful

Uchiha Madara

​🌑​Now, Madara isn't opposed at all to a woman who can stand up to him. It gets his blood boiling in all the right ways as he would enjoy himself someone with whom he can play fire with. There is a catch to it all though. He can respect power but only as long as the odds are at maximum even between the both of you. Yet one can only imagine that there is someone out there stronger than even him or his friend Hashirama. Obviously alliances are offered to you from everyone as your powers are desired from all. Madara answers with typical Uchiha violence known in the times of war as he understands what is at stake. In his mind perhaps it also makes the most sense for you to align yourself with his clan and eventually the Leaf Village after peace has been made between the Uchiha and the Senju. After all they are the strongest and for that have the most to offer to you. If he figures out that anyone else has made a similar offering to you he might just request a fight where your alliance is at stake. It is very much reminiscent of the way knights would battle for the hand of a princess and in some violent ways perhaps it is. If you are the price, he won't back down in either case.

🌑After having handled matters in a more civilised manner where he specifically followed Hashira's pleads to not start a war with any newly formed villages already and has silenced anyone who wanted your loyalty sworn to their village, you ultimately decide to join the Leaf Village. That's when another silent war breaks out though as now the Senju and Uchiha clan start their own battle of whom gets to wed you to one of their own. Here is where Madara gets possessive now, even when in company of his friend Hashirama who is considered as an option for you to marry. After all he is the one who fought of quite literally those who pursued you with similar goals. He spilled blood in your name whilst Hashirama didn't go to such grand measurements in favor of peaceful conversations. In Madara's eyes that is already proof enough that he is more suited as he could offer you the more intense and passionate love. He has made peace but he still has his pride and he would very much like for the Uchiha to be the ones that can boast about you being one of them. He doesn't leave that even up to discussion. He makes his point clear to Hashirama who backs off for him as a good friend.

🌑You probably end up being the pride of the clan yet simultaneously you end up being closely monitored by the Uchiha at the same time. They want the power but they also need the control over you to ensure that you stay an Uchiha, something you are bound to notice. That's where Madara stands up fiercely and defends you. He hates being chained down just as much and he has firsthand experience with the persistence of especially the elder warriors in his clan. Deep down he has considered some of their fears as well but he would rather express them in different matters which would only end alienating you from them. Matters have to be approached in a different manner as you aren't just simply an enemy anyone from his clan could just take on, you're too powerful for that. Even he would greatly struggle and he doesn't know if he would emerge victorious if he were to clash with you. At times it might silently torment him but it is impossible not to respect the sheer power that you possess. Nevertheless though, he is very much ready to show you off as he has every reason to be proud of the fact that you are his wife and that you will eventually be the one to carry his heir.

Senju Hashirama

🌳​Where everyone else would only approach with fear and caution, Hashirama approaches with amazement and genuine excitement. He's in pure awe when he finds out abour your limitless abilities. It's perhaps strange for you to meet someone like him as you are most likely used to people only desiring you as a weapon in times of war. Hashirama somehow senses instinctively that you are not a person to be scared of though hence his friendly introduction. That wariness though is something he immediately knows where to place though the moment it flickers across your face. Sometimes it is hard to forget with his enthusiastic and friendly attitude that Hashirama has been on battlefields since he was only a little child. Though he may not know your past yet he understands that you must be far too familiar with people wanting to use you to gain more influence and power. So he decides to not pressure nor threaten you even if his own clan calls him naive for it. He should push more and make you offers to convince you that his clan and eventually the village he builds is the best option but Hashirama refuses. He gives you a choice which you never had before and that is ultimately what makes you accept.

🌳The moment you do join, he starts being slightly overwhelming. He visits your house to inform himself how you are settling in, he inquires constantly how you are feeling and if there is anything he can do to help you be more comfortable. It starts out as very sincere actions born from his natural friendliness. It turns over time though in the smothering obsession you eventually get used to. Through it all though Hashirama always only wants the best for you even if he is being far more pushy than he probably has any right to be. He doesn't take any hits to his own ego when someone questions him if he believes that you might be even stronger than he is. Instead he talks much rather how amazing your abilities are and just what a kind heart you actually have despite a childhood that consisted only of being abused as a weapon and fighter on the battlefields. In his eyes you are a strong and beautiful woman and that even without all the powers that you hold. His clan heavily tries to push the marriage onto you, especially since Hashirama's spilling fondness is more than obvious. He shields you from that only to ask you the next day the same thing, only with less force and more sincerity.

🌳He doesn't let you fight though, all the more if you yourself don't wish to do so anymore. He doesn't care if others accuse you of being disloyal to the Leag Village and the Senju clan. He doesn't even care when his own younger brother scolds him harshly for his ridiculous need to shield you. You are the last person who would ever go down on the battlefield, not with the abilities that you have. But it isn't about the physical strength to Hashirama. He knows that you would always be the last person to still stand. It is your mental strength that he worries about and the reason why he never calls you into shinobi duties. You have spend your life fighting and killing, only being used as a weapon and he refuses to demand the same thing from you. Your powers can be used in other ways to help the village outside of spilling blood and if that should be your wish then he respects it. He has promised you a happy life where you would never have to turn into the version of yourself that only knew how to kill and not how to live. He'd rather go out and fight himself then ever order it from you. You have fought long enough already. Now you deserve a happy life and he will provide it for you.

Senju Tobirama

🌊You can't expect the same warm welcome that you would receive from someone like his older brother. Tobirama is the polar opposite of Hashirama and that for good reasons. Otherwise his brother with his far too big heart would probably let about anyone join the newly formed village. Tobirama on the other hand doesn't just allow you to be part of the village. He normally demands a thorough review on your past as well as what skills you would bring if you plan to be a shinobi. It's your sheer display of power that causes an immediate tumult though which he is forced to put on a leash before everyone loses their mind. Some people mutter that you are too powerful and that you could potentially overthrow everything that is currently being build. Most vote for you to join as the consequences qould be dire if they were to reject and you were to join another village. The stronger the shinobi in the Leaf Village, the easier other nations will bow their heads. They already have the Senju and the Uchiha with them, the two arguably most powerful clans. With you no one would ever dare to go against them. Tobirama understands both sides and that you most likely won't wait forever for them to argue it out.

🌊The benefit would be greater for you to become part of the village and so you are allowed to join. That doesn't mean by far though that Tobirama has let you off the hook already. He keeps surveillance on you. He doesn't trust you fully yet. Now, he is never one to just trust any stranger but it has to be said that your sheer power plays an additional part in it all. You aren't just someone that even someone like him could easily stop. If you turn out to be a traitor or if you have any malicious intentions at all, casualities would be immense. That is something Tobirama has to avoid if the worst case scenario should ever happen. So he has a team of only the best monitoring you all the time for any suspicious behavior. Eventually you admit to him one time that you find it sort of cute how little he trusts you due to him constantly spying on you. He takes quiet but deeply personal offense. Not because you found out and didn't tell him. More because he spots a gap in the plan he himself came up with to always keep an eye for you. Clearly his plan wasn't good enough if you still ended up noticing it. You only telling him much later is still the cherry on top because now he feels mocked.

🌊It's begrudging respect that eventually turns into an obsession. Your skills are to be feared but for someone like Tobirama who constantly tries to invent new techniques and jutsu, it is also unintentionally a gold mine he struck. It is very common at one point that both of you spend days together figuring out correct hand signs for a new jutsu and that you perform whilst he watches and scribbles everything down on scrolls for research. You become a research partner and he acknowledges that you help his research a lot. Discussions of marriage have always been present but he stands up eventually and announces that he is going to be the one who will marry you, shutting up the discussions of who of the two brothers would suit you better. It's only logical in his mind as he knows how to properly utilise your abilities whilst someone like Hashirama would most likely only end up coddling you. As someone who always has to consider the chances of risk though, Tobirama starts working on a sealing technique that can be used against you to weaken you if a day should come where it would ever be needed. Whether that is for the safety of the village or the safety of the marriage.

Uzumaki Mito

🦊​Mito is part of a powerful clan herself and happens to be the first jinchuriki for the nine-tailed fox. She too is a woman of immense power for that just like you are. Yet she too has to consider wariness when first presented with an outsider to her village. She is a woman loyal to her duties so your sudden appearance and the powers you bring have to be carefully observed before she can determine whether you are a threat or a potential ally. She exhibits still a quiet and composed appearance even then as she is neither overly friendly nor overly hostile. She is calm. She asks questions and she answers yours too. The moment it is determined that you hold no ill will and wish to join the village though, she sees no reason to reject. After all someone as powerful as you should be an ally and not an enemy and she warns those who still hesitate that consequences would be far worse if you were to join another village and they should start a war with you by their side. The Leaf Village has strong shinobi, some of the strongest even, yet if unnecessary blood can be kept from spilling she will support for you to become part of the village and join the ranks of a shinobi.

🦊She is a constant presence in your life, though not anywhere close to being as insistent as Hashirama would be. It is quite simple really. She spoke up for you so she naturally believes that it falls in her duty to ensure that you settle in well and that her trust in you doesn't end up being misplaced. She listend calmly when you have something to tell her and she offers advice and help in the ways that she can. She isn't one to coddle you either though. With powers comes responsibilities and whilst she doesn't necessarily believes that you have to fight other villages to prove your loyalty she is of the belief that you should use your skills in some ways to help the village thrive. Perhaps a bit of a unique view as most other people would send you out where currently conflict over borders and territories arise but she receives support from Hashirama in her opinion. The choice is ultimately left up to you but Mito imagines that with a past where others mostly desired to use you as their best weapon you would appreciate using your powers in non-violent ways and still help save lives. It's this demeanor that is neither too coddling nor too harsh that has you rely on her as much as you do.

🦊Duties have always come first even before her own feelings as long as it served a greater purpose and ensured peace. Mito has known for a while already that she would end up marrying Hashirama to strengthen the alliance between her clan and the Leaf Village. For the first time though her heart and her sense of responsibility don't align. She has gotten attached to you beyond what she should have allowed herself and she suffers in ways too controlled to let it show on the outside. Mito probably doesn't even let you in on the fact that she has caught feelings, not even if she were to notice that you have similar feelings for her. Her strength lies in being subtle but powerful though so she navigates wisely and never without cracking. She keeps you close by her side as she knows that people will mistake closeness for friendship between two women and not for intimacy between two people in love with each other. Eventually she might confide to Hashirama what is going on as she still respects him as a human being and her legal husband. If anyone understands then it would be him and Mito counts on that. Her duties tie her to the village and as long she stays, you stay too.

[obiwansito]

Mornings with you

read on ao3 𐐒𐐚 masterlist

pairing- obi wan x f!reader

word count- 2.3k

summary- lazy mornings with your fiancé obi-wan are the best, especially if you end up having a morning shower together.

tags- smut, fluff, shower sex, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, morning sex, soft dom obi wan, orden 66 didn't happened. 18+ only. minors do not interact.

a/n- this was supposed to be a cute fluff fic but my characters started being horny unconsciously?? and it resulted in this.

The rays of the rising sun were beginning to filter into your room, filling it with a soft warm light. The birds were singing, it was a beautiful morning in Lake Country. Just another day waking up in that peaceful place you had moved to when the war came to an end, almost two years ago.

You stirred slightly, still with the heaviness of sleep in your eyes. You analyzed your position, you were hugging the body of Obi-Wan, your fiancé, who was sleeping peacefully beside you. You smiled to yourself. After many years, a hidden relationship and even a war, you had finally achieved what you had longed for so much. Peace, stability... and above all, happiness. A future together.

You sank your face into the bare chest of the man next to you, lazily inhaling his comforting scent. You had spent so much time together, yet every moment with him still filled you with excitement.

You let your mind wander to the past, the moment when you first met, he a jedi knight, and you, Plo Koon's Padawan. You had always been attracted to Obi-Wan, but he didn't notice you until many years later, when you were promoted. Even there it took a little while, it wasn't until the war exploded and you were both assigned to multiple missions together, that you really started to get to know each other, and eventually, fall in love.

You thought about all you had to go through to get to this peaceful moment. The pain, the losses, the wounds. All the trauma, the sound of explosions, months on end without seeing each other. Your heart ached as you remembered the times you'd make calls in the middle of the night, sometimes for just a few seconds, to know that the other was okay. That you were alive and holding on, and that eventually you would be reunited, and together again. Just Obi-Wan and you, forever.

You decided to focus on the good memories. Anakin unmasked Sidious who was an infiltrated Sith all along, and caused the war. He told you, and both of you told the council about it.

And after being so long in a war you were destined to lose, the Republic had begun a new era. An era of peace and justice. Of course, things were still not perfect, but now there were honest people fighting for the betterment of the galaxy.

However, after a long discussion, Obi-Wan and you decided to step back from the Order. You were both clear about your new goal: to be together.

A hand resting on your hair brought you out of your thoughts, making you look up. You were so focused that you didn't even notice in the force that your beloved had woken up and was looking at you tenderly. “Good morning, my love.” You whispered, grinning dreamily at him as you reached out your arm to stroke his beard.

“Good morning, darling.” He leaned over to give you a little kiss. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. And you?”

“Very well, as always when I'm by your side.” You laughed at that. “Always so corny.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, looking at you with amusement. “Just for you.”

You both laughed, looking at each other lovingly. You weren't in any hurry to get up, you just wanted to be together all the time. If it were up to you, you'd spend all your time in that bed. Alone, cuddling, kissing, making love... or just talking, laughing together.

Suddenly, a memory came to your mind. “Hey, love...” He looked at you curiously. “When was the breakfast Padmé had invited us to?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and you realized the answer. It was today. “Kriff.” You propped yourself up on your elbow, rising just slightly to look at the clock on Obi-Wan's nightstand. 0700. If you remembered correctly, you'd agreed to meet at 0900. “Oh, we're on time.”

You dropped down beside him again, both of you laughing. You ran a hand through his soft hair, leaning down to bring your lips together in a soft kiss. Your aim was for it to be slow and tender, however, your boyfriend rested his strong hands on your waist, positioning you on top of him.

You stifled a moan as his tongue entered your mouth, deepening the embrace. You could have spent hours like this. And you would have, but unfortunately you needed air to live, and this close together you couldn't breathe. You broke apart reluctantly, pressing your foreheads together and catching your breath.

A few seconds passed like that, when you lay down on his chest. “We should get up, you know?” you whispered, causing him to laugh, growling with amusement. “We should. But only if you let me sneak into your morning shower.”

You hummed, feeling the lust in your bond. You nodded, slowly getting up and taking his hand. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach from anticipation, and your lower half slowly getting wet at the thought of what was to come.

You both walked slowly towards your shared bathroom, the sexual tension very clearly felt with or without the force. Once you arrived, you released his hand to remove your nightgown, feeling shivers run through your naked body.

Obi-Wan ran his gaze over your body, mesmerized. So many years together, and he still couldn't believe how lucky he was to be with a woman as beautiful as you. You smiled at him and stepped into the shower, motioning for him to follow you. He obeyed, removing his pants and underwear, following you and closing the shower curtain behind him.

“You are so kriffing beautiful.” He whispered, running a hand over your smooth cheeks.

“Even freshly awake and with hair all messed up?”

He chuckled, nodding. “Even so. In any of your presentations, you are always the most beautiful woman in the world.” You giggled, your cheeks warming slightly.

Obi-Wan rested a hand on your waist. You were looking at each other with intensity, daring the other to make the first move. Finally, you placed your arms around his neck, and pulled him in to join your lips in a hungry kiss.

The warmth of his lips on yours made you let out a sigh, letting go and making you bump against the wall. He extended his arm towards the shower handle, and you both felt the warm water falling on your bodies, which only aroused you more. Your hands gently pulled his hair, while your tongues danced in a wet game.

You separated after a few seconds to catch your breath, and he pushed his face into your wet neck, leaving kisses and bites that would surely leave marks later. You moaned a little, feeling his big hands roaming your body, which felt small compared to his. He cupped your tits, running his thumbs over your nipples, which were erect from the contact and from the water.

He ran all over your neck with kisses, savoring your body and enjoying your delicious smell. Probably his favorite scent in the whole world, where he felt most safe and loved. He slowly moved down to your breasts, grabbing one between his lips, gently biting your nipple, pulling a moan from you. You could feel his smirk, he was relishing the moment.

His other hand explored your waist, your hips, your abdomen, until he reached the part where you needed attention the most. Your legs obediently opened, getting Obi-Wan to let out a small chuckle. “That's my girl. So obedient-and so wet for me.”

“Technically, I'm wet because we're in the shower.” You managed to get your voice out in the midst of your lust. He looked at you amused, shaking his head.

“You're hilarious, aren't you?” he whispered warmly against your skin, stroking his hand down your thighs, making your skin bristle, but not giving you what you wanted.

Your breath hitched, closing your eyes. “Obi-Wan, please - stop teasing.”

“I will consider it. Only if you accept how wet you are for me.” He licked your nipple, making you moan.

This was a part of Obi-Wan that didn't come out often, his dominant side, his voice hoarser than usual, full of lust. You loved it when he was like this.

“I'm... I'm wet for you, darling. Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please touch me.”

“As you wish.” With that said, he fell to his knees, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. For a second you thought you were going to slip, but you soon realized you were being held by force.

Obi-wan moved his face closer to your crotch, leaving wet kisses on your inner thighs, while his thumb went to your clit, pressing it gently.

“Kriff.” You moaned as he ran his thumb around your entire pussy, collecting your wetness and bringing it back to your sensitive spot, bringing his lips close to kiss it.

He growled with arousal, loving the taste of your lust. “So sweet...” He breathed on your intimate part, making you moan from his warmth. His tongue began to move in circles around your clit, while teasing your entrance with two fingers. You shifted your thighs as you closed your eyes, aching for more.

You could feel your fiancé's smile as he listened to your reactions, he loved to tease you, and sense how desperate you were to feel him. He looked up, catching your eyes directly as he pushed his angled finger into your entrance with a wet sound, making you moan. “Oh, force...”

You closed your eyes, obscene sounds coming out of your mouth as you felt Obi-Wan fuck you with his mouth and fingers. Of course, it wasn't the same as when he did it with his cock, but the man was damn good either way.

Your thoughts were interrupted when he inserted a second finger, reaching a point that made you scream from the pleasure. The brush of his beard on your sensitive skin only made you more aroused.

“So good for me. My sweet darling.” Obi-Wan looked gorgeous like this. His reddish hair wet and messy from your own hands, his face pressed into your pussy and focused on pleasuring you. You felt a warmth in your stomach, your orgasm was approaching.

“More... please, more...” You begged, your legs were trying to close but he held them steady using force. You squirmed, the man was eating you like he was starving. “I'm going to... come...”

You stopped talking when you felt the pleasure coursing through your body, closing your eyes and letting yourself go, you felt fireworks around you as you moaned uncontrollably. You felt him rise carefully, stroking your hair. “That's it, beautiful. Cum for me. You did amazing.”

You slowly opened your eyes as you recovered, taking in the wonderful sight in front of you. Obi-Wan looking at you lustfully, his beard wet with your juices. You moved in to kiss him passionately, tasting yourself on his mouth. You moaned slightly, feeling the heat return to your body.

You moved your hand down to his cock, stroking it and feeling pre-cum already on his tip. You were going to kneel down, ready to please him, but he stopped you. “You'll have time later to return the favor. Now, I want to fuck your little pussy.”

You breathed heavily, feeling your wetness rise at that statement. You could only whisper a small “Yes...”, feeling arousal coursing through your body. He grabbed you with one of his strong arms, and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, holding tight to him.

He kissed you again, while with his free hand he touched his cock, lubricating it with pre-cum and then placing it between your legs, just grazing your entrance, and making you both let out a little moan.

“Just... do it.” You whispered, and he arched an eyebrow.

“Do what? Use your words, baby.”

“Just fuck me, please...” You let out a guttural moan as he entered you in one thrust, touching just your sensitive spot.

“So tight and wet for me...” You clenched your walls around Obi-Wan's cock, making him let out a grunt as he began to thrust into you.

His movements were quick but precise, very much his style. He took his time, leaning down to kiss you passionately, your tongues pressed together muffling the sound of your moans.

When you broke apart for air, you dropped your head on his shoulder, moaning his name repeatedly, as it was the only thing on your mind. The obscene sounds they emitted, and the falling water was the only thing you could hear in the small bathroom, echoing off the walls. You squirmed as you felt his thumb stimulate your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm.

“Close... I'm close.” You whispered between moans, feeling your legs tremble. Obi-Wan stroked your hair, grunting repeatedly. He was close, too.

“Keep it up, my dear. You're doing amazing.” You moaned at the praise, feeling his cock hit exactly your most sensitive spot, and within seconds you climaxed, tightening your walls and dragging Obi-Wan's orgasm with you, moaning at the sensation of his hot liquid leaking between your legs.

You stood there for a few seconds trying to catch your breath, your foreheads pressed together. You opened your eyes, watching as his chest rose and fell, pressing his hands on your ass to hold you, he'd probably leave a mark.

“That was... amazing.” You said as he lowered you to the floor, carefully as your legs were still shaking after your recent orgasm.

“That's right, my dear. And the day is just beginning.” He smiled at you, stroking one of your soft cheeks.

“I think we really should take that shower now, or we'll end up being late for breakfast with Padmé and Anakin.”

“I agree, love. Let's do it.”

© obiwansito, 2024. reposts, copies and translations are not allowed. my work cannot be used for training AI.

[bwat5-blog]

A Look At The "Nothing Character" Who Broke Our Hearts: Isha

**Spoilers For Arcane**

I must say, there was a time not so long ago that if someone were to tell me there was a whole tag devoted to the hatred of a cute, tenacious, brave little girl character who died tragically trying to emulate her hero, I would have found the idea completely insane. However, since becoming a part of our little community....

Before we get into this a bit let me say, I am not formally educated in writing/literature/creative story telling or any of that. So what I discuss and list will as usual be the research I could find on my own with sources provided. I know for a fact through some of my interactions on here there are some very educated people in this area, so if any of you see this and care enough, please chime in! I'd love to learn more.

What Is The Complaint?:

"Isha isn't a real character!"

"Isha did nothing except get blown up!"

"Why was this kid even in the show?"

"Isha's only purpose was to give Jinx a reason to be happy then take it away!"

You get the idea. Overall people seem to hate the character because they feel she really wasn't one. They see her as being more of a singular plot device with no real information or depth given and not having any real purpose. While it is true we don't learn a ton about her, I completely disagree as to the worth and impact of her character on the story. In doing some digging, I came across the following term:

Catalyst Character-

Per Reference.com: "A catalyst character, also known as a catalytic character, is the character in a story who causes the protagonist, or main character, to move toward some kind of action or transformation. This character is usually the person that spends the most quality and influential time with the protagonist."

Okay, rather or not you agree or think it matters I'd hope at the least that that explanation is fairly clear. So moving forward, why do I think this applied to Isha? Because she is in all aspects a MASSIVE agent of change in the narrative. I understand not liking her. That is totally individual. But to imply she didn't matter is complete and utter nonsense.

The Ventilation Chamber Battle:

The brawl between Vi and Jinx has come to a head. Vi sits atop Jinx with one gauntlet around Jinx's throat and the other poised to kill her. Jinx is telling her to do it... she's glad that Vi is the one who is going to end her. When out of nowhere Isha leaps between them pointing a gun at Vi. '

Concrete Impact:

Stops the fight cold

Jinx immediately screams no betraying her actual fear for Vi's safety

Snaps Vi out of the fight where it appears she was quite possibly pulling back her hand to finish the fight

Isha's presence is what makes Vi get in front of Caitlyn's rifle leading to their separation and what occurs for them afterward.

Jinx clearly is "seeing" Vi again for the first time when Vi leaps to stop Caitlyn

2. Life With Jinx:

We return to Jinx after the time skip. It turns she has been living quietly in hiding with Isha since the battle. She is staying out of the bloodshed, focusing on her relationship caring for the young girl. She seems more at peace than we have seen her the entire series, even declaring "Jinx is dead" when Sevika comes to demand she get involved.

Concrete Impact:

It's strange to say for something I list under concrete but just the obvious and clear effect she has on Jinx herself. We see it expressed in many ways, such as Jinx saying Isha reminds her of Powder, Jinx saying she doesn't want to screw up what she has with Isha when in Silco's office, and so on. I feel like we could do an entire analysis post on Isha's effect on Jinx mental/emotional state but that is for another time.

The fact that Isha is masquerading as Jinx during the occupation is HUGE. We have to remember, Jinx is not actually getting involved at all before the events of the rally. The people of Zaun have made her their symbol because of what she did, and because Piltover has made Jinx their symbol of why they are doing what they are doing.

It is only because Isha went to the rally and got arrested that Jinx rejoins the fight.

3. Jinx Comes To Stillwater:

Isha has been arrested along with a large group of Zaunites during the rally. Sevika limps back to the hideout and tells Jinx who is immediately extremely upset. We see her seriously glitching in full for the first time since the time skip. She and Sevika mount a rescue mission, and because of Isha. Jinx rejoins the game since the occupation began.

Concrete Impact:

Without Isha being taken Jinx doesn't get involved which quite literally changes the trajectory of the entire story. Meeting Vander again and everything that stems from that would be impacted which quite literally could effect every character in the story. It is too much to list or "what if".

4. Reuniting The Family:

In the wake of meeting Vander and rescuing Isha, Jinx goes and finds Vi in the fighting pits, telling her what she has found and together with Isha they set off on a journey to find him. Leading to the all-too-short reunification of their family, with their newest member of course.

Concrete Impact:

Of course to state the obvious, they wouldn't be here if it were not for any of the things we have already been over.

When Jinx and Vi start to fighting, once again it is Isha's involvement that stops it cold.

Seeing Jinx's care for Isha is what helps Vi start to see her sister in a new light.

It is Isha's bleeding from getting whacked that draws Vander to them. Vi immediately leaps to save her life and Jinx can see the Vi she knows is still there as well. Also being thrown into Vander's path like that leads to his regaining control and the scene we see above.

5. The Commune:

After their family is reunited Vi, Jinx and Isha take Vander to the commune to meet with Viktor. Hoping his healing gifts can save their father. Of course, it all ends in soul rending tragedy with Vander losing control and Isha sacrificing herself to save her new family during a Noxian attack.

Concrete Impact:

Isha brings Jinx's gun. Without the gun the plan to save Vander could have gone a hundred different ways.

Isha pocketed those stones. If she hadn't done so once again it is impossible to list all the ways that incident could have changed in the end.

The impact on the story from Isha's sacrifice is so far beyond "making Jinx sad" it is mind-boggling. It stops the attack in its tracks. Without Vi getting injured saving Jinx from the explosion, Caitlyn and Jinx may have never found even that microscopic bit of common ground between them we see. There is so much more and that is to say nothing of the impact on Jinx mentally/emotionally

Conclusion:

So again this is not a true deep dive or anything. And I do understand the complaint that we really don't ever learn a ton about her. But I absolutely do not understand or agree with the complaint that she is meaningless/unimportant/inconsequential to the story. Her actions and presence drive a massive amount of change in the course of season two, and without her it very likely could have all ended quite differently. To close, below is an English translation of Isha's farewell posted to reddit for you to enjoy. (I have no way of knowing if it is accurate so if not forgive me).

Child, don’t fear the thorns; walk barefoot, And you’ll find something precious. Look at this darkened sky; see how beautiful the fireworks are. There’s no need for so much sorrow. People flourish and wither, But even stubborn rocks and debris will bloom.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Part the mountains, Let her see me. Tell the stars, Hurry and shine on me. Blow away the dark clouds, With a stroke of blue. Even if the world is full of desolation, We can look up and see the moon.

While we still have the hearts of children, Even as lone blossoms among millions, we must bloom. Don’t be troubled or sad. Don’t forget: Even if tears fall, we must keep running, Run to where even time can’t find us. Be the birds that soar at the edge of the sky.

Don’t keep searching; Just give me a hug. Let’s quietly forget, For this is good enough for me.

[zith-ipeth]

An Introduction

Hello critters

My name is Zith, at the time of writing I have left my freshman year of college, hopefully returning to academics some time in the future. I’m transfem (she/it), I have AUDHD, PTSD, some fucked up kinda plurality and anxiety. I am a prison abolitionist, a leftist and a therian (cladeo/suntherian domesticated canid, but i usually just say therian). I began understanding my animality in March of 2024, and looked at it first through a feminist, queer, and leftist lens. I examined and understood my doghood as gender for a long time, but I now understand that it is distinct from that, that it is species, and that I am a therian. (I still get gender envy from maned wolves but i mean, LOOK AT THEM, cunty fucking canidae)

I noticed that therians too rarely talk about politics, too rarely talk about the future, and far too rarely get to live out our lives true to what we are. Because of this I decided to be out as a therian at college, and in the world. I want to show you all the ups and downs of living that life, and also just keeping it light and silly along the way.

Tags of note:

———————

✨thoughts✨: random bs

Dog Days Dairy: dog days entry

———————

Come along with me and lets try to fight for a future, one where we only change for ourselves, and one where we can change the world.

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

//Clover Brooks//

//TW’s for my blog//

I use some slurs sometimes (only the ones I’m allowed to ofc, I’m big on reclaiming stuff). I curse, and also I will talk about bodies and love, although not in an explicitly sexual way. Also I will discuss violence and things, so if any of that makes your brain feel nasty, idk don’t stick around too long

[ireadwithmyears]

Wrapped in Love

Pairing: Wrecker/Fem Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Tags/warnings: Reader is a Jedi, referenced death of a sibling, grief/morning, sleeping problems, including false awakening loops/sleep paralysis, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: As a Jedi, you’re supposed to be able to let go of people after you lose them. But when your twin brother, who is also a Jedi, is killed mid battle during the clone wars, you find your grief manifesting in a plethora of sleeping problems that you hadn’t been prone to experiencing since childhood. When it all starts to become too much, only the batch’s resident demolitions expert/human teddy bear Wrecker is able to ground you and, little by little, help you feel safe again.

Authors note: So uh... if you didn’t know, one of my older brothers unexpectedly died several weeks ago, and this is just my way of coping with my grief, as well as the sleeping problems, discussed in this fic, that I’ve developed as a result. Often, I wake up feeling deeply unsettled and like I’m not entirely real, and this is immediately followed by the thought man, I could really use the strength of Wrecker to comfort me and make me feel grounded in this moment. So basically... this is that. Also written for @wrecker-week 😁

All the lights that blink and beam within each of the cockpit’s various displays are a normal, reassuring glow of green, indicating that all sensor readings, as of this moment, are blissfully, unremarkably normal.

Wrecker, to the shock of almost everyone who knows him, doesn’t actually mind this job. Sure, it’s probably the least exciting duty he and his brothers are forced to contend with on a semi-regular basis, what with operations needing to be split between such a small crew. But someone, especially whilst they were using some of the more clandestine hyperspace routes, needed to keep a constant eye on the various monitors, particularly for the critical systems and proximity sensors to detect for foreign vessels whilst travelling around the Outer Rim.

Wrecker, having what some would call an overactive mind and as a result, an abundance of energy that needed to be burned off somehow during the long stretches of nothingness that came with extraneous hyperspace forays such as this one, could always be counted on to find something to keep himself occupied through the night.

What he hadn’t counted on, but what was quickly becoming the standard routine, was you at some point or another joining him in the cockpit. 

When you had joined them, his squad had been apprehensive. 

But when a Jedi general who they had later learned was your former master had asked if they had room to take you in, well...

It wasn’t like Hunter could really raise any objections to that. 

So you had come aboard, and little by little they had learned of the circumstances that had brought you to them. 

You were a twin, and in a slightly less-conventional Jedi upbringing, were trained in the ways of the Force alongside your brother. You both had different masters and were encouraged to find balance within your familial relationships so as not to form unhealthy attachments. But regardless, family was family, and you often found yourselves, once you had both become knights, working alongside each other and in later years fighting at each other’s side to defend peace and to protect vulnerable planets as the war tore its way across the galaxy.

Which, in the end, had made it all the more devastating when, mid battle, in a bid to protect his men, your brother was overpowered and cut down by General Grievous.

The worst part, which should have been viewed as a mercy but in reality felt like a final blow to you, was that you weren’t even there to witness his final, heroic sacrifice.

You were at the Temple, and subsequently had woken up in bed with a horrible, aching pain in your chest and an instinctive, loud, and screeching feeling that something was irrevocably and unspeakably wrong.

Even before the Temple Guards had arrived at your quarters to inform you, deep within the confines of your soul, where the ever-present song of the Force had faded into a clashing, churning dissonance within your ears, you had already known. 

You were left with the shadow, the memory of him everywhere you went, and an inescapable, desperate urge to run away from it all. So, with your master unable to convince you to stay out of the fight entirely and to instead take some time to go on a meditation retreat, he had sent you to them, where you could still be of use without yours and your brother’s mutual acquaintances, friends, and the familiar settings that brought the memory of him back just to haunt you, and that with some luck, you could grieve whilst also maintaining some degree of distance from the brother and the childhood that you had lost.

The only problem now? 

You’ve come to associate your bed, and by extension getting to sleep, as not safe anymore.

Your bed, of all places, should be the one place where you do feel safe. It’s warm, it’s comfortable, and it’s the place you always go when you find yourself in need of rest.

But the bed was not safe.

Bed meant lying down, going to sleep, and waking up to news that could shatter you as easily as if you were glass. Going to sleep, in the same vein, became a fretful nightly event, where you would lie down and try to convince yourself, sometimes for up to several hours, that everything was fine, that you would close your eyes, wake up in the morning, and most everything would remain the same—safe, familiar and unchanging, much like the monitors and sensor readings on the cockpit’s various displays.

And then there were the nightmares, which themselves were an issue all on their own.

The thing about nightmares is that a lot of the time, they don’t have to be this vivid, terrifying experience in which you watch as your twin brother is, viciously and without mercy, stabbed through the chest and back with two lightsabers in quick succession.

You don’t need to go to sleep at night for that image to burn behind your eyes if you happen to fixate on it too much. 

Your nightmares nowadays were quiet and deceptive in their appearance, which in the end makes them all the more deeply unsettling to wake up from. 

Disappointingly, in a painful twist that really shouldn’t have been all that surprising given the circumstances, they were also recurring, a remnant of your childhood that you thought you had left in your Padawan days long ago. 

“False-awakening loops” your master, with patience and a seemingly endless reserve of compassion, had called them. “When you are stressed or are anticipating something stressful is about to happen, you are unable to fully relax into sleep. To try and compensate, your brain will aim to re-create the familiar scenario of waking, sometimes over and over again, in an attempt to process the stress or trauma that has triggered it.”

So, as it was, you found yourself reverting back to those subtle but frightening dreams that cropped up on particularly stressful occasions when you were a youngling.

You would wake up. You would start your day, and then something strange, disquieting, or a frightening mixture of both would slowly alert you to the fact that you were dreaming, and then, as soon as you would begin to struggle to get yourself out and actually wake up for real, it would repeat, happening up to five or six times on a loop until, somehow you were able to pull yourself out of the tangle of dreams, stumbling back into your awareness with a blurry, visceral fear that this too was not real, leaving you with the sick feeling of being caught, ensnared in a trap.

What you hadn’t accounted for, when these dreams started to disrupt your sleep more often than they ever did when you were a child, was him.

But he was there, warm and strong and so, so incredibly real when he held you in the aftermath that really, at the end of the day, falling for him had been easy. 

As easy as it is for you to stumble from your bunk in this moment, quick, urgent footsteps carrying you to the cockpit, your eyes wet as you search for him until finally, finally he’s standing in front of you, and he’s real. You’re reaching for him and collapsing into his arms, legs shaky and threatening to give out, but it’s fine, he has you, and he isn’t going to let you fall.

“Oh, sweetheart.” You feel yourself being lifted, arms gently tucking you against a broad, strong chest as he sinks down into one of the cockpit seats, settling you in his lap. “We’re okay, see? You’re safe.”

His hands brush along your shoulders and back and he frowns, feeling every muscle tense, shaking uncontrollably within his hold. 

“It was the usual one, wasn’t it?”

You sniffle, barely able to look up at him as you shiver, slowly nodding your head. The muscles in his arms flex against your trembling form as his hold tightens slightly. 

“Oh,” he says, sounding disheartened. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

His hands run up and down your arms in a slow, soothing rhythm. 

“I-I couldn’t move this time,” you shudder, belatedly supposing that maybe that’s why your body has decided to shake uncontrollably now that it’s been given the freedom. In all your years of experiencing these loops, sleep paralysis has never been part of the deal, and it frightened you even more than the usual, unsettling loops of false awakenings. Something about being aware of everything around you but being unable to get up or even twitch One of your fingers has rattled something deep within your bones, and it still lingers within your quivering, tensed muscles even now. “I, I could hear my alarm going off but I couldn’t...”

When you say it out loud, it feels stupid, almost ridiculous and silly and certainly not deserving of the amount of fear that’s still rolling off of you like waves right now. But Wrecker—sweet, gentle Wrecker—only gathers you closer to his chest, tender as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Shh,” he soothes, his hand drawing slow, soft circles against the shaky and tensed muscles of your back. “You’ve been so brave, my sweet thing. But it’s okay, see?”

He lightly nuzzles his nose against your hair, taking a slow, steady inhale before dipping to press a soft kiss to the curve of your cheek.

“You’re safe, see?” he whispers, his breath a warm caress against your ear. “I’ve got you, mesh’la. You know I’ll keep you safe.”

“P-Promise?” you ask, trying not to grimace at how small your voice sounds.

“I promise,” Wrecker murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. All you can do is nod, dropping your head to rest against him, feeling yourself continuing to shake as his thumb gently circles between your shoulder blades.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, his voice softened. “Is there somethin’ I can do to make it better?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper, still shivering all over despite your best attempt to stop the uncontrollable spasms.

You don’t know how to explain it, don’t know how to tell him without sounding insane that you don’t feel 100% convinced that you’re real at the moment, but somehow, looking down at you with his brows pinched together and his expression contemplative, he figures it out anyway. 

He hums a low, thoughtful sound within his chest before taking your hand between his, slowly guiding it up and beneath his shirt until your palm is pressed against the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“Breathe, cyar’ika,” he whispers, his hand still idly tracing the back of yours as he holds it there. “This is real, I promise. We’re both real, and we’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

He’s been through this particular song and dance with you many times before. By now, he knows and has learned the hard way that asking you to name five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc is often times not very helpful, only serving to stress you out further when it’s too hard for you to form the words because there isn’t a part of you that just won’t stop shaking against him.

But this though. Warm, slightly flushed bare skin beneath yours. His heartbeat is tangible, real, too vivid and too present for even the most realistic of dreams to be able to replicate. His strength, which he could so easily use against you if he wanted to, is only used to hold you gently now, the strong, comforting bulk of him, his muscles settled against you is grounding like a weighted blanket, keeping you tethered to the real and holding your thoughts back from spiraling.

“There we go,” he says in a soft murmur, lips against your hair. He’s begun to rock you gently, still cradled to his chest as your shaking slowly ebbs and subsides, leaving you limp and boneless within his arms. “Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

You shiver, only this time it’s not out of fear. It’s out of a visceral, pure relief that floods through you as you look up into his warm, amber eyes that are bright with attentiveness and concern. 

“You're real,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you reach up to brush your fingers against his cheek. You feel the resulting upward tilt of his lips and he smiles, warm, soft eyes melting with tender, sweet love as he nods his head.

“I’m real,” he confirms, reaching down to bring your hand to his lips, leaving a slow, soft kiss along the back of each knuckle. “And so are you, sweet girl.”

You nod, little by little melting into his strong embrace, and for a while the cockpit is silent save for the soft, synchronized patterns of your breathing as Wrecker’s fingers lightly stroke through your hair.

“It’s still not mornin’ yet,” he says, his voice quiet, cautious. “Do you wanna...maybe lie down for a bit and see if—”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished his sentence. 

“No,” you say, uncaring that your voice sounds petulant like that of a child. “I can’t, Wrecker. It isn’t…my bed…it doesn’t feel safe right now.”

Your fingers curl within the material of his shirt, struggling to find the words to explain that the only thing, the only place that feels safe for you right now is here in his arms while he holds you, keeping you grounded...keeping you feeling like you’re real.

“Easy, cyar’ika, ‘s okay.”

He turns your hand over, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist. 

“I’ll think of somethin’,” he promises, and sure enough, a few moments later, he has.

You watch as he returns from the bunk room, arms laden with pillows and blankets, biting your lip as you tilt your head.

“Where’d you get all those?” you ask, because even with yours and his bedding combined, it wouldn’t be this much.

“Tech’s pillow almost always ends up on the floor, and he usually ends up kicking his blanket off without even noticing during the night,” he explains, offering a small, sheepish grin.

You watch him as he arranges pillows on the floor, only sparing one which he places over his folded legs. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he beckons, and uncharacteristically timid, you do, letting him arrange you as you settle.

“This one is yours,” he says with careful and precise movements while wrapping a warm and familiar blanket around you. “This one is mine.” 

You blush because before he even says it, you can already tell because the blanket smells like him. 

“And this one,” he says with a flourish that makes you quietly giggle before he gently wraps you up in the last of the three blankets, “is Tech’s, and don’t worry,” he adds, being sure to tuck the blanket beneath your chin, “I’m sure he won’t mind. Now lie down for me, cyar’ika. I’ve got you.”

He gently eases you into a lying position, your head resting against the pillow that’s settled across his lap. It’s now that you realize he’s effectively swaddled you within the blankets, wrapping you up tightly like you’re in some kind of blanket burrito. You sigh, snuggling contentedly down into the soft pile of bedding. 

It is safe, and his hand is in your hair, gently playing with the strands, and that, too, feels safe. You stifle a yawn, only now realizing how tired, how exhausted, really, you feel, and that as well, you know is because you’re safe.

Not only that, you realize. Specifically, it’s because you feel safe with him. Nowhere else, no one else has been able to provide that kind of comfort and surety, and you let out a breath, nuzzling your cheek against his hand when he strokes it, like a tooka asking for more pets. From the low, contented sound he makes within his chest, you don’t think he minds very much as he obliges.

“Close your eyes, mesh’la,” he coaxes, watching you as your eyes begin to flutter. “I promise I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You’re reluctant, because you don’t want to fall back into sleep and its sometimes untrustworthy, careless hands. But you’d also do anything for Wrecker, and really he’s not actually asking you to sleep. He only wants for you to get some rest however you can manage it. So, with some trepidation, you do, his thumb gently brushing along your cheek as you finally allow your eyes to close.

When it’s morning, when you do wake up from a peaceful sleep that you somehow manage to fall into, he’s still there. Strong, OnGard and protective but so, so gentle and soft as he touches you, keeping you safe through the night, just as he promised to do. 

•Thank you to @freesia-writes and @snotbuggle for these wonderful Wrecker themed dividers😊

•If you enjoyed this work, please consider leaving a comment and/or reblog. :-) They are very appreciated

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader 18+ MDNI PART 4

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :5133

Warnings below the cut

Special thanks to: @pterodactylterrace for spelling and grammar tips!!!:) ((it is much appriciated friend!)x

CW: Mention of oc's mother dying in childbirth, mention of treasons, also vaginal sex, oral sex (f recieving) fucking, dirty talk, smut, aemond being a little dark but nothing too extreme! Discussion of murder.

----

Only a few days ago, your brother swore he would restore your house, house Marthyralys back to it’s former glory, back to where it was during Maegor’s time. Your ancestor, Daeyor Marthyralys was a council member for king Maegor. His crimes eventually ended with him on the stake, being burned by dragon fire and ending with your family being  banished from Westeros for almost a century. 

That was until you and your brother Fyrand returned to the Seven Kingdoms. You remember how you first entered the Red

Keep, your hands shaking and your eyes scanning every inch of every room, taking in as much security detail and doors as you could. It was clear to you that these silver-haired people were not your friends. They were your enemies. Your brother, Fyrand, said so himself multiple times. 

The Targaryens frightened you. Of course they did. They were your father’s killer, your older brother's killers, the reason your house became dragonless, why you almost starved to death. And aside from that, Targaryens are known for their short tempers and long grudges, their insanity and incest. There is much to fear from the dragon people. And so you do.

And now, two days later, you are married to the King's son, Prince Aemond Targargyen. He won the duel for your hand against Prince Jacaerys Velyaron, the Princess’s heir. You assumed Fyrand would prefer Jacaerys, as it would be his mother that one day will become Queen, but for some reason unknown to you, he had already made peace and assumed Aemond would win the duel. He was very certain of it when you visited him in the dungeon.

And he was right, as always.

Prince Aemond won the duel and humiliated prince Jacaerys. The wedding ceremony followed the same evening, as was custom in your house. The one-eyed Prince had done his research into your house, your brother, your traditions…even you. He knew of the full day rule when it comes to duel-marriages, and he used it to his advantage by forcing you into marriage with him on the same day he won your hand. 

Fyrand simply had asked you to keep the prince happy and so far you like to think you succeeded. You have done your duties and even went as far to sleep with Aemond, which was surprisingly pleasant. He was not the beast he wants the world to think he is. He has not hit you. Not once. Nor forced you or hurt you. He is gentle. Kind, in a way. And so unmistakably broken.

Your brother assumed you would have no trouble winning Jacaerys and Aemond over, and in his head that might have made sense but outside of that skull, there is no magic in your veins. You can’t just snap your fingers and make Aemond fall in love with you. He is his own person and you have the feeling that even if you tried to manipulate him into doing your bidding, it would either be too obvious or end up in an argument.

Ever since you were born, you were loyal to your house. But now that you are married, you are starting to doubt everything you ever know. Aemond shows you kindness and grants you protection in ways you never thought possible. Ways you never dared to even dream of. 

But the rest of his kin, his blood and his fire that roams the halls of the red keep, hells, even the bloody servants and the guards, from the kitchen wenches to the maids cleaning your chamber pots: They all despise you and your brother for the crimes of your ancestors. There is no winning these people over with whining by Aemond’s side, you need to show them that you are different. But how? Your personal life does not matter, it is your last name that defies you and that is still  Marthyralys and not Targaryen, for better or for worse.

And therefore you are worried that you will never be accepted into the Red Keep. Not truly. At first, that did not matter to you. But now that you have met and came to know Aemond, you already developed complicated feelings for him in a very short time. And you know: You want his mother to like you. To at least approve of you. For the sake of your brother’s plans and Aemond’s approval.

She’s his mother, yes. But also the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You can imagine that Fyrand would like it if you became her friend, or even trusted advisor, some honerably position among court.

You are preparing for the meeting by putting on a different, less pious gown. Your old gown is disposed of, It slides down your body, bearing you half naked in front of your husband, who does his best to pretend to be busy with his book to notice. However, you notice his good eye, sometimes briefly lifting from the words on paper taking secret glances at your body instead. As if he’s not your husband yet, as if he is not entitled to you. ‘’Does your mother have a preference for a dress?’’ You ask him, as you pillage the closet that servant earlier had filled with gowns for you. Red, black, green, gold and even silver gowns end up on the ground as you quickly look everything over, your head drowning in fabrics and ideas of what Alicent Hightower would approve of.

Aemond no longer pretends to read, slamming the book shut so carelessly that you doubt he was even reading to begin with. ‘’She loves wearing green.’’ He says, politely, smiling and clearing trying to talk you into picking a green dress. 

‘’That’s what I’m afraid of.’’ You mutter. You wearing green would be a declaration of war to Princess Rhaenyra. She would see it as an allyship with Alicent. And for now, it’s important to play and appease both sides, Fyrand told you that before you left Pentos. 

‘’I would like it as well.’’ 

Aemond continues to push you slightly, standing up from the chair he was sitting on. His hands wrap around your waist as he puts the green dress in front of you, eyeing you despite standing behind you all thanks to the big mirror in his room. You nervously bite down on your lips, tasting a bit of blood. He picked a dark green gown with sleeves made of dark lace. The back is also made of lace almost exclusively for the corners. It is a beautiful gown. ‘’You’d look beautiful in this gown. Although,’’ He lowers his voice, whispering in your ear. ‘’I can’t make any promises it won’t be ripped before the next sunrise.’’

‘’When I rip it off your body when we are home, tonight.’’ He leaves several soft kisses on your neck, all the way to both your shoulders.

You stagger on your feet, shocked and pleasantly affected by his words. He grins, pleased with the effect and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek. ‘’Pick whatever you like, but know that Green is superior.’’ Those words echo a lot in your head as you compare the dress to a red more modest gown with less lace made of modest silk.

You doubt if Alicent would appreciate you showing up half covered in her rooms, wearing the lace green dress. It also perhaps would be chilly or awkward to wear as well.

So, you pick up the red dress. The fabric feels much softer, much more pleasant and warmer. You let your fingers pet and slide along the fabric, following where the stitches were once put. There is a golden belt to accompany the dress, a thin accessory. The shoulders have subtle details, but you can tell it is supposed to represent dragonscales. Perhaps a nice dress if you are meeting with Rhaenyra.

You hold the dress to your body, imagining yourself in the lush fabric. ‘’Hm. Opposite of Green.’’ Aemond comments, from where he leans against his desk. He pretends to be busy with cleaning it, putting aside quills, vials of ink and parchment. 

You put the red gown back on the bed, and instead pick up a gorgeous soft blue coloured gown, with silver patterns of swirls on the sleeves.

‘’Blue?’’ You ask Aemond, tilting your head slightly.

He has one response and it is not a pleasant one. His nose slightly rises in disapproval and his stance becomes closed, as if he reminds himself to be careful around you. ‘’You do as you wish.’’ 

You sigh, careful to not roll your eyes at that. What a horrible answer. You do as you wish is not only dismissive, impersonal and cold but also vague. He truly seemed to care about the dress a moment ago and now he pretends he does not care at all? Who does he think he’s with? Your memory is not failing you yet.

You feel a sting and have to fight the tears, but instead of running away or hiding from him, you stand up to him. ‘’Don’t be like that. Just say you don’t like the gown.’’ In another time, you would’ve ran or cowered. Not anymore. No longer.

Aemond sighs, still with his mind elsewhere. ‘’It’s not the gown I don’t like…’’ He murmurs. 

You wonder if it’s you he does not like anymore. ‘’Revaera,’’ he tries to touch you but you step out of his reach. Aemond sighs. ‘’I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t like the color blue.’’ He says. ‘’You wear what you want. Green, black, blue, fuck it, go nude. You’re a Princess now. Someone will always be offended.’’ And that is the truth and it terrifies you. Someone will always be offended. How do you please a world that will never be happy? 

You look over the gowns, but can’t stand to wear the blue or red one anymore. But going with green is also not an option. You dig a bit further into the pile of gowns, and eventually you stumble upon a beautiful purple with silver piece. Your fingers touch the silverwork, feeling the metal. The last time you saw these colors, they were on your brother Kagyr, your mother Roysa, and your father Laeyol’s caskets. Purple, violet almost so dark purple it's nearly black, and clear untroubled silver. Symbolizing the pride and the unity of your house. You hear yourself take a deep breath. You tug the dress with you. You first put it on your body, fitting it without lacing the corset. 

You dismissed all your maids and ladies maids, or rather, Aemond did that. ‘’I wish we didn’t dismiss all my maids.’’ You tell him, laughing despite a few lonely tears escaping your eyes. You do it subtly, so he does not notice it.

Yet your face is turned toward his own anyway, and he wipes away the tears, before leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. ‘’We can always hire other people.’’ Instead of calling someone else in, he steps behind you, and grabs the laces of your corset. He laces it for you. You look a lot better than you did a few days ago, and with you finally dressed and proper you two can go meet the Queen.

Aemond and you walk to her chambers. Your husband has long legs and could be there long before you but instead trails behind you to ensure you are not alone in the Keep. When passing statues and portraits, Aemond tells you about the history of the people behind it, making the trip to his mother’s rooms entertaining, and useful. You know some things about the Targaryens, but more information is crucial to your survival out here. 

Aemond walks as a true prince, hands folded on his back, back straightened and his pace slow as if he is in no rush to get there, despite his long legs making this challenge impossible. 

Soon, instead of late you both arrive in front of a majestic looking door that already somehow tells you just exactly who is waiting behind it. These are the Queen’s chambers. Her rooms, her den, in a way. The page announces you both, as the doors swing open.

You gulp, feeling the nails on your left hand in an impulse to pull again, but you have no more nails to pull or to rip off your fingers.

You and your husband both walk in. 

When you enter the lavious and luxurious rooms of the Queen, she is sitting on a bench, with her feet pulled up under her. She reads an old looking book, her mind elsewhere, clearly.

Aemond politely clears his throat, and Alicent’s red haired head snaps up in his direction. You see kindness and love in her eyes, in a way you never saw yourself. You see a mother looking at her child. Her smile dies the moment she sees you, however. ‘’Ah, Aemond. There you finally are.’’ She says, ignoring you as if you are air. You keep smiling regardless, as you do want her to approve of you.

The tender, loving slender hands of your husband find your own once again, as he whisks you away to his mother, showing you to her, introducing you formally to the Queen. ‘’Mother, I brought someone. This is Revaera, my lady, and my wife.’’ Try as he might, Aemond Targaryen cannot stop the smile that slowly grows on his lips as he speaks those words, and he seems a different man when he looks at you.

You understand now is the moment to show your respect. You make a curtsy for the Queen. Alicent sits back down, closing the book.‘’I am glad you brought her here.’’ She tells Aemond, and you can’t help but uncomfortable at that. They are like farmers talking about their broodmare. Your opinion is clearly not required.

Your husband reaches out to touch his mother, hugging her in such a gentle way unfamiliar to you. You wonder what he is feeling when he hugs his mother. Does she feel warm? Did your own mother feel warm, did she hold you like that, before she died? Did she smell as nice as Alicent? Dozens of questions you never will get answers to.

The pain of seeing another child with their mother, is unfamiliar to you. You would never wish for another to go through what you did. But why did you have to go through that regardless? 

The two break their hug, unaware of your feelings and your pain. Aemond gestures a bit vaguely to you. ‘’You told me you had questions for her.’’ 

Whatever could she want, indeed. She’s queen of the seven kingdoms, has a husband and you have been kind to anyone here except…

You close your eyes, softly cursing yourself. This is about that handmaid that you hit. The one who called you unworthy of carrying Aemond’s children. You just know it, when you see the poorly hidden rage in Alicent’s eyes.

Somehow you should have know that Alicent provided the maids, and that in upsetting them, you upsetted her. You came in this room wishing for a allyship, you are lucky if you leave this room with mutual displeasure instead of a conflict.

Alicent nods, smiling at you. She turns to her son, her locks briefly turning so they catch the light of the chandelier. ‘’Yes, thank you for bringing her here. Aegon needs your help in his chambers. I’m afraid it is quite urgent.’’ The queen speaks, sweet as a fox. Aegon is Aemond’s brother. You have yet not spoken a word to him. You know he is the elder brother, despite Aemond being taller. Despite that he was present during the duel and your introduction, he did appear to be there with his mind at all. He was a ghost.

The expression on your husband’s face pains you, as you can see he is in clear conflict. He is ordered by his mother, by his Queen to help his brother. But he is also bound to you, his wife and his lady. 

As much as it scares you to be alone, to be alone without Aemond to protect you, as you have discovered pretty early that your word means nothing without him, you know you must confront Alicent alone. She will never be honest with her son near her. ‘’It is alright, husband. I am quite certain I have nothing to fear of her grace, the Queen.’’ Famous last words, perhaps.

Alicent returns your smile, very pleased with your words. Aemond grabs your face with both his hands, gently and caresses your cheeks. He kisses you soft and kindly, respectful of his mother watching you both. ‘’I shall return soon.’’ He promises you. You hope he is right.

Aemond finally takes his leave and Alicent gestures to the lavious armchair across the small bench she is sitting on, inviting you to come sit. And so you do.

The moment you sit down, she begins her questions. ‘’I understand your life has been anything but uneasy.’’ She pauses when she sees you pinching and clawing at your own skin, in lack of nails to pull. She tries to hide it but you can see she is very distraught. She sits up straight. Unexpectedly she comes a bit closer, yet keeps her distance. As if she does not know yet if she wants to come closer or stay away. 

You hear her words, silent. Why does she care? Yet you nod, agreeing with her. Your life has been uneasy. Your mother died, your father tried to kill the king, your house was exiled and poor, you nearly starved and your drunk of a one-handed brother almost daily abused you. It has not been easy.

And yet, here you sit. Alive. Whatever that is worth. Alicent takes a deep, shaky breath. It catches your attention, and when you look into her eyes you see small tears shimmering, despite her efforts to hide it. ‘’I must know, for my own sake. How does Aemond treat you?’’ You think back of the few days you have known your husband. He has been kind, gallant, gentle. A dream come true, a breaker of your chains, a light of hope you cling to in utter darkness. But why does she care?

‘’He treats me well, your Grace.’’

‘’My ladies reported they found blood on Aemond’s bed linen. You can tell me,’’ she reaches out to grab your hands. ‘’Anything, Revaera. I am not angry with you.’’ You become uneasy at her treatment, perhaps even insecure and worried.

You would not feel comfortable with lying about how well Aemond treats you. So you tell her the truth, despite you feel umcomfertable sharing such personal details and matters. ‘’Aemond and I consummated the marriage. That was expected of us both, so we did that.’’ Your voice sounds a bit snappy, and you hope that the Queen reads your body lanagune that you do not want to talk about it at all.

But to think a Hightower would just give up, would be a mistake. ‘’How did that happen, Revaera? Did he force you?’’ She asks, folding her hands against her lap.

You shake your head.

‘’No. I went willingly. It was ..pleasant, in a way, your grace.’’

Alicent seems relieved, almost happy by those words. ‘’You are happy, then? With my son?’’

You feel heat creep up to your cheeks when you think about your husband, your prince Aemond. Happiness is an unfamiliar, strange, alien, concept to you. You have never been really happy. You don’t know what that feels like. But Aemond makes you feel safe, respected and as if you matter. That is enough, for now.

‘’I’d say so, your Grace.’’ You nod to confirm your words.

She sighs, clear relief written on her face. ‘’I am glad, you are happy and both have respect for each other. A marriage without mutual respect is a marriage destined to fail.’’ You know it is unwise to speak when Alicent speaks, as she is the Queen. So instead, you sit there, nodding, as if you lost your tongue.

‘’I am afraid we must discuss a unpleasant matter.’’ Alicent says, suddenly very sharp. You gulp.

‘’I heard you abused a servant.’’ 

‘’She told me I was unfit to marry Aemond. That I was a traitor and a …whore.’’ You mutter. ‘’I do regret hitting her. I do. Aemond told me not to worry about it, but the truth is: I do worry. I worry a lot.’’

The door behind you opens, and your husband walks inside. You are relieved to see him, standing up. He makes a respectful bow for his mother, and after he has done that rushes to your side, to kiss you. ‘’You both seem well.’’ He observes. ‘’I hope your conversation was a pleasant one.’’

He stands next to you, hands folded on his back as you take a seat in the chair. ‘’Is your brother alright?’’ You ask. He thinks long before you get an answer.

‘’My brother is…my brother. He is fine.’’

That is a relief. And somehow also a concern. 

Alicent is silent. ‘’Aemond, is it true that my handmaids have spoken about Revaera’s virtue? Did they call her a …whore?’’

He nods. ‘’Yes. I meant to speak to you about that, Mother.’’ His tone is still gentle and kind. He continues. ‘’I know it was not your fault, Mother. You likely thought they were well, kind and good for Revaera. But they were not kind or good or well for her. Not at all.’’ 

He takes a deep breath.

‘’Revaera has become a Princess of House Targaryen. She is my lady and my wife, one day she will become the mother of my children, gods willing.’’ You can’t help but feel even more heat rush to your cheeks at that description. Desire and fear fight in your head. Your own mother died when birthing you, and now Aemond wants to do the same with you? But to remain childless, forever out of fear…It is a big conflict. One that won’t be solved easily.

He continues, making wild movements with his hands. ‘’So, I cannot, we, as House Targaryen cannot, let this insult stand. We cannot have our servants or who else spread rumours about my wife’s purity.’’ You don’t like the sound of the finality in his voice. The sound of a man who is hurt and shamed and must restore his honour.

‘’What do you suggest, Aemond?’’ Alicent asks, and you are prepared for anything but what Aemond chooses to say.

His licks his lips briefly, his good eye so focused on you that it makes you uneasy. He is good at staring. ‘’I want them all hanged.’’ He reveals, after a brief moment, shocking you.

‘’Aemond! You can’t mean that.’’ You say, instantly. ‘’Surely a mistake was made-’’

He ignores you, planting you back in your chair firmly but gentle. He cups your chin into his hands, touching and caressing it. ‘’But I do.’’ he insists. ‘’By questioning your virtue, they question if you were pure for me.’’ 

You become uncomfortable once more, as you were more than pure for him. He was your first. You turn your head away. Aemond lifts it, forcing you to look into his one eye as he speaks. ‘’By questioning your purity, they question any future children we might have. Your life could be in danger, as well as the life of any child we may have. That is why I am so angry.’’ He finishes, and you understand him a bit more, but still…

You already blame yourself for your mother’s passing. What will become of you when another soul is added to that list? ‘’Fine. But only the woman that said I was a whore. The other two shall live.’’ You declare, as if it is up to you. Aemond chuckles, kissing your cheeks. 

‘’I understand you have a kind, gentle heart, my wife but this is not an insult. ‘Tis high-treason.’’ And Targaryens have only one answer to that. Two, actually. One word in high-valyrian and one in the common tongue. ‘’Dracarys’’ and ‘’Behead’’.

Yet you don’t give up. You can sway your husband. You must. ‘’At least spare the girl that talked with you. You know the one. The kind one, who regretted her actions. Surely, a good man must know when to forgive?’’

To that, Aemond is briefly speechless. He thinks himself a good man.

Alicent sighs.

‘’What shall we do with her, Revaera? After she was caught, no one wanted her as their maid anymore.’’ You can imagine that must be a dealbreaker for many of the guests at the red keep. 

But not for you.

‘’Have her become mine.’’ You say. 

—

The maid is known as Dyana. She is a kind, humble servant from flea bottom, and you need to tell her several times to stop apologizing to you. She is very thankful. You told her she should thank Aemond for changing his mind, but she is convinced you had a hand in it. You did of course. She is lacing up your gown for the evening supper.

You and the Targaryens will have dinner tonight. It is your first official dinner and it worries you. Will you live up to the expectations? Will you do well? ‘’You have nothing to worry for.’’ Dyana assures you. ‘’Just keep smiling.’’

That is an easy one for you.

You leave Aemond’s room at last, bumping into your husband. ‘’Aemond.’’ You greet him, politely. He grins mischievously, briefly looking around for witnesses. Once he has concluded there are none, he gently pushes you against the castle walls, kissing you fiercely and without shame. You moan against his lips, lost in pleasure as he gives you dozens of little kisses on your shoulders that all feel like little bites at the same time. They pierce through your skin and leave memories and marks. Your husband grins, madly in love with you. ‘’Yes, wife?’’ He greets you, teasingly. You stutter, your cheeks heated once more. ‘’I-’’ He silences you with a grin. ‘’I think we may skip supper this once. I am in the mood for a certain Marthyralys delicacy.’ He traces a finger down your throat, slowly pulling down your gown a bit, so he may have a look at your breasts. ‘’I wish to taste my wife, properly.’’ He whispers. ‘’You will like it. I promise.’’ He adds, when he sees your worry. ‘’I told you, I would never do anything you would not like, and I meant it.’’ You pant, softly, whimpering as he kisses you again. Aemond opens the door to your bedroom again. You are turned around, your back facing his front as he works on your corset. ‘’Aemond, we have promised we would be there for supper.’’ You tell him, as you hear him breath heavily with anticipation and lust. You wonder if itll feel as pleasant as the first time. 

Aemond chuckles, amused. ‘’Have we? I seem to have come down with a terrible headache. I can’t possibly attend.’’ He says, blinking at you. You realize that is him winking. Your dress is finally pulled down, as are your small clothes. Aemond throws his eyepatch on the bed, pushing you next to it. Your hands intertwine as Aemond pulls his pants down, revealing his already erected member. Your head hits the front of a pillow as your husband parts your legs, feeling your wetness and slith. He grins, rubbing your shimmering, wet pearl as you whimper, at his mercy fully. ‘’You were going to attend supper like this? Soaked up, ready for my cock?’’ He whispers in your ear. ‘’Were you hoping I would bend you on the table between two plates of food and gave you a good through nice, warm, fucking?’’ His fingers increase in speed and you notice him smirking as his face becomes closer to your entrance. Eventually, he levels it and you watch as his tongue comes out, taking a good and proper lick of you. You gasp, twist, under his grip and finally you feel pleasure waves hit your body as Aemond feasts upon your body. He moans as well, giving you fuckings with his fingers and licking you at the same time. 

You cry out. He grins. He is taunting you. You think. You can taunt him back. You look at his swollen length, wrapping your fingers around it, and start touching it. Aemond growls. You smile, innocently and stop touching him the moment his length nearly jumps, ready with delicious white precum you can’t wait to lick off. Aemond grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you to his face. He kisses you one last time, before you end up on your back. ‘’Do you want this?’’ He asks one final time. You nod. Aemond grabs your legs, leveling himself back inside of you. You sigh in bliss and pleasure as he begins to push. It as if he never truly left. Your hips join in this time, surprising the prince in a pleasant way. ‘’Yes, my wife. Just so.’’ He tells you, kissing your forehead. He picks up the speed, making the movements and what men call ‘’fucking’’ go faster and harder. Your needy cunt is being taunted by his lenght and skill and you would very much like to feel as good as the first time. ‘’Please.’’ You beg soft in his ear. 

‘’Pleasuring you is my duty.’’ He whispers back in your ear, before giving you a firm hard trust. You cry out, bucking your hips back. Aemond answers by taking you harder and harder on your back, fucking you so hard that you have tears of pain and pleasure. He keeps going until your soft whimpers become cries and your cries become desperate needy screams. He gives you one final time to beg for it. ‘’Please.’’ You whisper. And then, he gives it his all with a final push, sending you down in a spiral of insanity and pleasure your body can’t really handle. Your body spasms and your mind feels wonderfully blank as all there is your husband, lining himself up at your entrance and emptying his load inside of you. You have come.

‘’Good girl.’’ Aemond whispers, knowing you appreciate that. ‘’So proud.’’ He adds, kissing your sweaty hair. He gently pats your hair. ‘’I think we’ll have some servants bring us some food. As delicious as your cunt was, I can’t survive on it alone.’’ You nod. He smiles, and tucks you in as you are used to. After that, you both have supper in your bed. But the dessert? You already had the dessert. A bit earlier.

--

Oh, they nasty-

Anyway, thanks for reading along with me!:) Soon we'll see people hang i guess? And everyone's favourite character Fyrand returns! And also, Revaera will meet Daemon, that is sure to be interesting.....Thanks for reading!:))

[catiuskaa]

shoot on sight [straight through my heart]

TROPE! enemies2lovers crack+smut?, inspired by a post in Pinterest I can’t find~! —angy noises—p.d. nvm: here it is -not angy noises-

and it’s also a way of making me post after Hannie’s n Lix’s birthday!! \(๑>◡<๑)/

PROMPT: “Take me to laser tag, push me against a corner, pin me to the wall and make out with me, then shoot me and walk away.”

WC: 5k.

CW: language, mentions of dacryphilia, mentions of spanking, bullshit n crack in almost every dialogue, alcohol, they’re both drunk but it’s ok, then I got carried away: mentions of public sex, use of pet names “sweetheart, kitten” (IK BUT SPARE ME, IT'S MINHO OK, I HAD TO), fingering (f), oral (f), hand kink?, panty stealing "borrowing". (I really NEED to touch some grass...)

Don’t forget to have fun, my loves!

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

"Minho, there’s something we need to talk about," you mentioned almost in a whisper, being careful not to be eavesdropped by accident by the rest of the crew, who were too bothered choosing who would need to call for an Uber.

It was kind of a weird statement, the one a quiet yet mean part of your brain came up with as you stared at one of the guests at Han and Felix’s birthday party.

You’d denied it if asked, just for the sake of your shared friends, but the only thing you’d like there to be between Lee Minho and yourself was a dense, thick concrete wall. As dense as the man’s mind: you enjoyed lying to yourself and pretending that he couldn’t take a hint regarding your attitude towards each other.

But no. The disgustingly oh-so-attractive man who had been staring at you from afar as the group divided themselves on how to go to where Chan had booked —pfft, no, you were sure he was fully aware of the effect he had on you, making your blood feel like raging fire in your veins as his mocking set you aflame as fast as a matchstick.

“Oh, really?” He questioned with a smug smile, yet wrinkled brows in confusion.

“It’s their party, and I don’t want to ruin the fun for ‘em. So I think we should call for a recess. A truce.”

He blinked, the smile on his face losing intensity. You dragged your hand through your face, wondering what was so difficult for him not to understand.

“I mean no fighting. Just for today, if you feel like it’s that hard to not resent me and bicker out loud,” you said in a huff, pouting unconsciously.

His act dropped altogether, and he stared at you, puzzled. “Resent you?” He repeated, as if the sole idea of you and hate in the same sentence was pure madness.

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling your chest tightening. The least he could do was accept it, but he had the nerve to play dumb? Your shoulders tensed up, and you had to force yourself to stay calm, sighing quite loudly. God, maybe the night was going to be harder than planned.

“It’s obvious you don’t like me, but still, I think we could drop it for Han and Lix.” You mentioned roughly, noticing someone approaching you two, and quickly approached him further, setting a big smile on your face. He remained baffled, eyes lost somewhere you couldn't reach.

"Hate you? I-"

Han approached you two, a huge smile on his face. You smiled back, your hand travelling to Minho’s and giving it a big squeeze, as if signing peace for the day, ending the discussion and making him stop mid-sentence.

“C’mon, guys!” Han cheered, passing an arm around your shoulders, separating you from Minho and arriving with you to the parking lot.

Coming down the cars, the group followed Chan and Seungmin, who knew the place and had been there before.

“Welcome to Blackout Lazz! How can I help you guys?”

Chan mentioned the booking he had made, and when all was settled, everyone was instructed to enter a different room with a whole new vibe, purple lights reflecting neon designs that looked like graffiti in what resembled an abandoned urban location. The girl from the entrance explained that the group would have to be separated into two teams. Han and Felix decided they’d lead separately, then chose members.

Felix’s team was Chan, Seungmin, Jeongin, and you, whereas Han’s consisted of Minho, Changbin and Hyunjin. You laughed as Hyunjin complained about the extra member of your team.

“Deal with it, Jin!” You giggled, teasing, team Felix sitting on the other side of the room, who had large benches in a sort of staircase design, allowing everyone to have a seat.

“Don’t worry, Hyunjin, they need another member because they wouldn’t be able to compete with us if it was a fair fight.”

You tensed your jaw as you burnt holes in Minho’s neck, Han chuckling and high-fiving his friend.

What a bitch.

You noticed him looking at you from above his shoulder and winking at you.

boi-?!

“Okay! I’ll explain the game quickly just in case,” the employee from the desk smiled sheepishly, and you let out a sigh, trying to keep your anger for the game, hearing what the girl was saying.

In summary, everyone had three weak points: the chest, the back and the head. Each player started with three possible resets, meaning that after being shot on each weak point, they’d have another life, much like any game. The score worked depending on how many weak points you hit and how many players you could reset or eliminate. The back counted the least, then the chest and the most was the head because of how tricky it could be to aim.

Everyone started teasing and mocking the other group as another door opened, helping the team members to tie and put correctly the gear.

“Your gun will tell you how many lives you have left, and its light will turn red if you get shot at. To recharge bullets, aim down then press the button at the side.” She explained, passing a keycard over all of the guns, and turning them on. “If anything happens with the gear, this area will remain open and I’ll be here to reset your weapons or help you,” she explained, then hesitated before adding. “Refrain from practicing difficult stunts. Running is fine, but still, be careful,” she said in a huff, still smiling knowingly, and you all giggled lowly, as if she had ruined plans already made.

She passed said keycard over a panel, making another door open. Each gun turned a different colour, Lix’s team yellow and Han’s purple. They decided to play rock, paper, scissors to see which team could go in first.

“Hey there,” Minho whispered behind you, making you jump in your place, startled because of him, his voice, and how the fuck he could be so stealthy some time.

To you, it was always him.

You frowned, but before you could say anything, he smiled slyly. “Truce or not, it won’t make a difference to how I’m going to beat you today.”

You let out a dry cackle.

“Am I going to end up crying because of you? Maybe ending up getting spanked for losing?” You mocked, watching his shit-eating grin grow bigger on his face.

“Oh, most definitely,” he said, smug. “You’ll hate it.”

The mean laugh you let out confused him a bit. “Quite the contrary, honestly” you teased. “It adds to the kink list.”

You stared at the two birthday boys with a small yet naughty smile. It would have been more of a quote, rather than you couldn't pinpoint who had said it before, but a particular sentence suddenly floated its way into your mind.

If you keep shoving an animal into a cage, one of these days, it's going to fight back.

Having kept all to yourself, you were certainly going to use this as an opportunity to get your revenge and make Minho meet his doom.

Felix had won (as usual), and you smiled at Minho, showing off your middle finger as he stared at you with wide eyes, still assuming what you had said a minute ago. It certainly had to be the effect of the purple light and the smoke machine that worked just at the entrance of the playroom, but if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was blushing.

Nah. You shook your head sideways, scanning the area.

Several paths and entrances covered the place, some access to higher levels hidden behind walls and other different materials that contributed to the theme planned, toxic-appearing barrels laying around in a specific order, yellow do-not-cross tapes broken in some door to add to the eerie atmosphere. Smoke from different machines covered parts of the playroom, purple and white lights being the only illumination in every hallway.

“We need people upstairs,” Chan mentioned with a mischievous smile, known to be the pro at laser tag, running as fast as he did.

Felix nodded almost aggressively, the helmet being a bit big on him, making him look rather goofy. You giggled to yourself.

“Yeah. There are three levels." He said, almost to himself. "Maybe Innie and Chan Hyung could stay in this one, then…”

“Seungmin and I can take the third floor,” you said, almost dramatically, fist-bumping him, both smiling almost sadistically. “You guys can swap and buzz around first and second. Sounds ok?”

As everyone was happy, the team separated itself, each player looking for places to hide until the other team showed up.

“Minnie,” you called, stopping him from going further into the third floor. “You can stay close to this way up, and I’ll look for another one,” you offered, and he nodded, smiling widely.

“Let’s make them eat dirt!” You both celebrated, laughing, then separated again.

Sounds coming from the lower levels, loud steps and gunshots accompanied by screams and noisy laughs made their way up, not reverberating, but still loud enough to make you smile cheekily, already excited.

You kept looking for another way down, but then you heard a gunshot, and your back buzzed, your gun quickly glowing red.

You turned around, hearing a noisy, “YOOOHH BITCHES!” and couldn’t help but laugh loudly.

“Changbin, you traitor!” You shouted, running behind him. “I’ll sell my Dwaekki plushie on Ebay!”

You stopped the chase, panting. A thought came to mind that it had been suicide to play a running and reflexes-related game with people who lived for the gym and sports, or at least most of them.

Spotting Hyunjin, you smiled meanly when you shot him in the back.

“WHAT?!” He screamed, confused. "I DON'T GET THIS GAME!""

Your face was red from all the laughing and running, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. After a bit, you had shot Hyunjin around four times, Han three, and got your revenge on Changbin by getting his last shot and eliminating him. But you hadn’t been able to find the one person you wanted to fight against the most.

Your team wasn’t too much better than the rival. Chan stood firm, only having two shots left, but if you were correct, Lixxie was at one hit, and you and Seungmin were close to that, too. Jeongin was probably playing UNO with Changbin outside.

“Where is this bitch hiding?” You panted, running around before encountering Lix, whose face was red from all the exercise, his hair messily tied up. Now, as a duo, you scanned the second floor for the tenth time.

“Have you seen Minho?” You inquired, and let out a sly smile when he nodded.

“I heard him tell Han he’s almost out, but he’s using Hyunjin as a shield, so that’s that,” you both laughed, he stayed looking around as you layed on a wall, catching your breath.

All of a sudden, he let out a gasp, his gun glowing red.

“From the back?!” He groaned loudly, whispering insults as he tried to place who had shot his final.

“Man, you’re as bad as in League,” you mocked, wheezing, as he rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Say whatever, but if I’m out, you’re alone. Good luck with that fucking camper!”

You grinned, staying behind that wall, knowing that whoever had eliminated Felix couldn’t reach you from that angle.

Minutes passed in what felt like hours. Soon enough, you and Chan were the only ones left in team Felix, and Minho was the remaining soldier fighting for team Han.

“Let’s divide again, there’s only ten minutes left,” Chan said in a huff.

You started lazily running away, but then heard gunshots from behind, Chan’s laugh almost echoing in the playroom.

“Don’t let that cheater win!” He screamed before heading to the exit.

There were seven minutes left.

It was almost anxiety-threatening, roaming around each and every nook and cranny of the place, unable to find Minho.

A static-like sound came from several speakers on the walls.

“The remaining players will play in Blackout mode! Let it be a one-shot winner!” the voice said, sounding similar to the girl from the entrance. “No campers allowed, team Han!”

The white lights suddenly turned off, leaving you alone in a purple-illuminated space. You sucked air in from your teeth, your body tensing. That was good because now you could find him, but at the same time, it wasn't. Now, there was no chance of you knowing where or when he would strike, the light not actually doing anything except colouring the playroom.

You started walking around aimlessly, passing your hand through your hair in a nervous tick from time to time. Until you got to a dead-end.

It was a big room at the end of a hallway, close enough to the exit that you were sure Minho wouldn’t think about searching inside, spacious enough to hold different walls and obstacles to hide and take cover.

In your head, he should’ve been struggling for a while before finding you, letting you shoot easily at him the moment he’d find you.

Instead, a sudden presence approached you from behind. You felt his body pressed on yours, and before you could even aim or shoot, he quickly gripped the hand you held your gun with, separating it from him as he turned you around, now facing him.

There was no place for what or any insults you could’ve thought of as he sharply and decisively trapped your lips with his.

You let out a confused sound, his touch feeling almost abrasive as you had been sweating for what felt like days but had only been half an hour, the taste of his lips so weirdly enticing that even if you hadn’t moved, it strangely made you crave for more.

He stopped and backed away when he noticed you stayed still, but in a rushed impulse, you took him from the collar of his shirt with your free hand, the other one still under his, gun in hand, and pulled him back in.

You felt him smile in the kiss, pressing you a bit more against the wall behind you as it started growing more intense, deeper by every second. Your free hand laid on his chest, allowing you to notice his heart racing in a rhythm you didn't expect —but even if you didn’t know just yet, the reason for his racing heartbeat wasn't the whole 'shoot on sight” deal. It was you.

To him, it was always you.

You broke the kiss, trying to assume what had just happened. It felt impossible, yet it still made your insides churn and turn, and it had only been a kiss.

You had always secretly wished for a concrete wall between him and you, yet funnily enough, it sat behind you, allowing him to keep you in his arms, and you, not even thinking of pushing him away.

The air seemed to crackle with anticipation. The tension in the purple-lit room was palpable, like a storm about to break. His dark eyes locked with yours in a passionate gaze and then, with a sudden surge of longing, met you halfway, closing the gap.

Your mouths met, not in a gentle or hesitant manner, but with an almost reckless abandon. It was as if a fuse had been lit, and even if you still felt like a matchstick being turned on, this had a way different meaning in your head now. You could've sworn it had changed your brain chemistry.

The sensation was intense, like being caught in the midst of a raging wildfire. Tongues that danced in a wild, untamed rhythm, tasting the heat and desire that enveloped them, fueled by the rage, the adrenaline, the sudden desire that started to creep out from its cage. It was a kiss that left you both breathless, their hearts racing, and their bodies tingling with a shared, burning intensity.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, lost in the flames of the moment, until you pushed him slightly to catch some air.

His grip on you lost tension as he stayed still, almost panting.

“Players! There’s only one minute left!”

You bit your lip slightly, but right before you could react, he directed his gun towards your chest, and shot you.

You stared at him in disbelief, wide eyes and mouth shyly parted.

“That has got to be cheating.” You muttered.

He smiled slyly, aproaching you again, settling his free hand on the wall behind you, trapping you back.

He gave you a small peck.

“Pfft. Sue me, kitten.”

Walking towards the exit, he winked before dissapearing behind the walls, leaving.

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

“How does it feel? The loss? The pain?” Han mentioned smugly as you came back from the toilet, now wearing a simple skirt and a top as Jisung cockily pranced around, as if he had been the one that had given you your last shot when of course, it had to be Minho.

Thinking about him made you bite your lip. He was nowhere to be found, and it was eating you from your insides. In the best way possible, of course, ‘cause thanks to him, the game had ended with you in a… particular situation.

You sat, and rubbed your thighs together, but still deadpanned at Jisung.

“Shut the fuck up, you were eliminated before we even reached 15 minutes. Game lastes 30. Let that sink in, birthday moron,” you smirked.

Laughing at his fake childish sadness, you tried to forget about what had happened in the playroom. How he had settled his thigh in between yours. How he had bit your lips, then softly passed his tongue over, almost soothing. How he had pushed you against the wall, caging you between it and his broad figure. How he…

“Hey, you ok?” Felix approached, a sheepish grin on his features, yet brows arched in what you then recognised as worry. “Your face is all red. Here, have some water.”

Just after he had mentioned it, you felt your cheeks hot, and acknowledged your warm state. You wished they hadn’t turned even more red when you blinked awkwardly at the realization, hoping to drown as you drinked from what he had handed you.

“Thanks, Lix. So… what’s the plan?”

“Mmhm… Jisung wants to go get drunk, his words, not mine,” he smiled. “His argument is that winners choose, and honestly, I can’t really argue about that,” his hand brushed his hair back as he laughed softly.

Everyone gathered in a resting space crowded with sofas, in the main area of the building, after Chan and Minho had called for an Uber.

That’s when you saw him again, and you had never imagined the thoughts that would instantly crawl their way to your mind —which was something, considering the wide range that your imagination could reach sometimes.

In that moment, it was as if the relization hit you, bluntly and unexpected, having been hidden and buried under piles of childish arguments and pride.

But god, after what had happened, you couldn’t help but accept your fate.

The man looked absolutely scrumptious.

“Do you mind?” He asked, getting close to you.

His lips, full and enticing, made you lick your own. You couldn’t help but think if its intense pinkish colour had always been like that or if it had been something more recent, something like yours on him, nibbing, kissing—

“Mmhm?” You pondered, still lost in your thoughts, not understanding.

“I want to sit, idiot.” He gestured to the small yet free space next to you, grin shining on his face. You blinked, cheeks further red, and scooched over the other side, making space for him.

You body tensed up when his hand grazed your leg. It was as if he had turned off a switch you didn’t know existed, making you unable to focus on anything else, the small chat that the group was having already forgotten.

He gave you a quick glance, as if checking if you looked uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare to say anything. Instead, when you felt like he was going to move his hand away, you rushed yours over it, shyly sliding it a bit further on your thigh.

He almost choked with his own saliva, quickly grunting and clearing his throat, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, Earth calling to Minho…?”

Both of you turned to face Changbin. He had a smirk on his face that lasted no longer than a blink, but you felt that maybe there was something you were not getting.

“You guys weren’t paying attention, so you’re stuck to go on Uber,” Seungmin said as he put his jacket on. “Han, Hyunjin, Chan, Changbin and me are taking the old man’s car.”

“Seungmin, that’s treason!”

“Fuck off!” He laughed, leaving.

The car ride had a special tension between Minho and you, again, sitting next to each other, his hand drawing patterns midlessly on your upper thigh that made you bite your lip the whole journey to the bar.

Getting off the vehicle, the cold night air hugged you tightly, the warm, fuzzy feeling inside you not leaving fully.

“Girl, c’mere! We’re doing shots!” Hyunjin took you by your arm, dragging you inside and close to the bartender, who served you your drinks with in an amazing speed.

Drink after drink, the dizziness in your body grew more intense. You chugged each glass hoping to make this new feeling of longing and desperation go away, but as you both stared at each other even when in opposites sides of the bar, the sensation took over your body as he eye-fucked you across the dance floor.

Hyunjin ditched you quickly, as drunk as he was, not really on purpose, rather just too into the music that the crowd separated you from him, but you were quickly surrounded by another body.

It wasn’t who you thought —or wished, much to what a much sober, small and confused part of your brain still struggled to grasp—, his touch not feeling as warm as back in the playroom.

This new guy smiled at you when you turned around, as if saying ‘hey, girl.’ Maybe he had even said it, but you hadn’t heard it due to the loud music blasting on the place.

Or because you stumbled and crashed against another hard and lean surface, one that sneakly settled a hand on your waist, moving you further against him.

“Mine,” he stated, and you didn’t know why but in that moment the sureness in his voice made you almost tremble —or however the fuck it was called, but with the amount of booze in your head, you didn’t care.

The guy frowned, but fortunately was quickly taken by another man, who smiled uncomfortably, leaving as he mumbled what sounded like scolding to his friend.

You laughed goofily at the sight, not noticing how Minho pulled you from your wrist until you had left the crowd and as he let you use him as a way of stabilizing yourself.

He couldn’t lie to himself, he had to be drunk too, maybe not as bad as you were, but he definetely was, or he wouldn’t have been able to pull of what had happened two minutes ago.

“It’s so hot in here…” you whined childishly. He guided you to the bathrooms —or what he guessed was the bathroom— and let you find your way towards the sink, as you splashed water on your face.

The main area of the bathroom was a shelf-like sink with a big mirror. Behind you and Minho, two different doors, one for men, and one for women, and to your left, the one for physically disabled people

“What was that in the dance floor?” He wondered, staring at you through the mirror.

You turned around, laying your weight on the sink, showing off a smirky grin. “Well, he showed up. And with you leaving me as horny as I feel, I think it is bound to happen that I may have some fun tonight.”

“With him? In that skirt?” He grunted, not really showing if he thought of the idea as something funny or stupid.

“I mean, you haven’t done too much to give me other options, no?”

In large but painfully slow steps, his hands laid next to your body, by your sides, leaning in so you’d be face to face.

“Really? I haven’t?” He murmured, eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips, licking his own. He let out a chuckle when you shook your head sideways. “What if… I offer myself as an option?”

You smiled, giggling, the alcohol not letting you fully control the emotions you chose to display.

“You’d like that, huh?” He teased, his breath smelling like a mix of drinks that you suddenly craved more than anything.

You hands traveled to the neck of his shirt. “Am I that transparent?”

The moment you pulled and met him half way, you never realized how hard it would be to stop.

His hands roamed over his favourite areas of your body, which seemed to be all of them. Uncontrolled sounds creeped out as his lips traced open-mouthed kisses on your neck, moving up to lick behind your earlobe. You felt your body weaken at the sensation of his lips.

"Did you enjoy it?"

His question, as well as the alcohol running down your blood, baffled you, not letting you understand. "W-What?"

"Leaving me so fucking hard, sweetheart. You owe me one."

Bitting your lip as his actions grew intense, you stared at him.

"I never asked you... to leave."

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

"I'm not leaving now..."

"B-but this is just... revenge..." biting your lip harder didn't cover the sounds you were making, but Minho loved every one of them.

"Revenge?" You feel him smile on your skin, his hand lowering towards your ass, shamelessly gripping and fondling it under your skirt. You tremble in his arms. "That's a strong word... but no, I don't want that..."

You lick your lips, trying to soften them after biting too hard, feeling a small dent mark on them, knowing your lipstick has got to be everywhere except your lips— Minho's now coloured in the same soft cherry colour, looking glossy and pink and so goddam kissable.

"Then what do you want?"

His hands trailed mindless figures, marking a path to where you both knew you needed him the most, and you visibly shook when he graced his hand over it, softly stroking your inner thighs.

Okay, that was very clear.

Your mind flashes thoughts of you hating him, and a small part of you doesn't know why you're letting him touch you like this, but as his hand goes below your skirt and above and his fingers start moving softly over your underwear, you choose to make future you worry about the outcomes.

Tonight's main course is him and his beautiful hands torturing you with pleasure.

Minho groans slightly, and you could swear it's the best sound you've ever heard. "God, you feel so wet already..." You whine as he keeps a dreadfully slow pace, moving his hand in small circles, and his words only make the pleasure pool in your lower belly.

"Minho..." You moaned because not one of you cared if he just dragged you inside the bathroom to finger you when everyone was partying and dancing right next door.

He hummed, grinning, so close to you that you felt the alcohol breath surround you, almost as if you were drinking it yourself.

"Sweetheart."

His voice was not the cockily and irritating automatic voice you were used to when bickering and teasing. Instead, it was low, full of lust, and his breathing was so close to erratic that you almost laugh in disbelief. This wasn’t what you had planned for today. No, you would've never thought of this, but right now, there was nothing you'd rather be doing.

"Want me to put my fingers inside you? To make this pretty pussy mine? Yes? Use your words, kitten," he teases. “I know you can.”

You could feel every word, every syllable, all over your skin as goosebumps spread through your body.

You nodded eagerly and managed to mutter out a quiet "yes," and as soon as he started moving, you knew you wouldn’t last shit.

You were a mess, moaning and shaking uncontrollably, not sober enough to notice when he pulled your panties down just enough so he could start a full-on make-out with your "pretty pussy"— his words, not mine.

His face was buried deep between your thighs and half-hidden under your skirt, as his only free hand sank into your ass, squeezing it as he sucked your clit into his mouth in a way that made you forget not only left or right, but also up and down.

His pace increased as he coordinated his fingers with his tongue, and it was game over. if he hadn't been holding your body, you knew your legs wouldn't have supported you through it. You whimpered and moaned, not even getting to warn him as pleasure and heat flooded your entire body.

With a pleased smile on his face, Minho leaned back, removing his fingers from inside you, not flinching once as he locked his eyes with yours and sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Mind still in bliss, you let out a whine, back to biting your lip, taking his face in your hands and crashing your lips on his, tasting you on his tongue.

“Sweetheart," he whispered almost on your lips.

He bent again, giving a small tap on your ankles.

The black-laced fabric that had been covering you before was now deep inside his pocket.

"M-Minho...!"

He chuckled, fixing your hair in soft movements.

"Let's leave before I fuck you in a bathroom stall."

"But my panties—"

He placed a finger on your lips, shushing you with a smug smirk.

"Mine. Keepin' 'em for later. Now, c'mon, before you make me even crazier."

[hard hours]

[☆ ☆ 👾 ☆ ☆]

~Kats, who feels weirdly strange about writing smut, but also feels her liked posts, Wattpad and AO3 tabs plus actual physical books stare at her in disbelief.

happee birthdae to my favorite boys!! <3

[lunarduty]

Hello ☺️ Could I request the Risk prompt with Alejandro please? No worries if you’re not up to it. Thank you

𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙐𝙇𝙎𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙀𝙎

☾ alejandro likes to celebrate after a successful mission. | [ RISK ]  for one muse to drive and finger the other who is in the passenger seat.  ALEJANDRO VARGAS X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. female reader. WC | 626 x

after an op is all wrapped up, and it’s time to head back to base, alejandro usually likes to drive back alone with you. not all the time - if a lot of his men are hurt or if shit went sideways or if he needs to discuss things with rudy. but it’s happened enough times where most of the guys know that you drive back with alejandro, and therefore don’t offer up a seat in their trucks.

they figure it’s because their colonel is just protective of you. likes to keep you close. just wants a brief moment of PEACE after the chaos of a hard fight. and they aren’t wrong, but alejandro always has ulterior motives for his actions. before getting back to base to celebrate with his men, he likes to celebrate with you.

it always starts with a hand on your thigh as alejandro sings your praises. calls you his tough girl. recounts your accomplishments on the op while his hand squeezes your thigh all the way up to the waistband of your pants. he’s gotten really good at undoing your belt with just one hand. always grinning when he gets the top button open as if he’d just won a carnival game. glancing over to you as he drives and staring for a moment too long before you’re scolding him to watch the road.

but how can he not watch that pretty fucking face as his fingers wedge down the front of your pants? how can he ignore the look you get when his fingers start their DESCENT - an addicting combination of impatience and eagerness? riding the same aftershocks of adrenaline that alejandro is. and though his eyes turn back to the road, at least he can hear your little gasp when the pads of his fingers find your clit. a breathy, shortened version of his name as he pushes three fingers through the folds of your cunt to spread out all that fucking wetness and he’s half-tempted to pull his hand out to taste it.

alejandro’s favorite part is the teasing moments before he pushes even a single finger inside you. when you’re desperate for him and he’s holding it just out of reach so you start grinding your hips up against the palm of his hand and he just lets you. allows you the freedom of fucking up against him because you did amazing today and you deserve to do whatever makes you feel good.

but he eventually does sink a finger in - quickly, unceremoniously, and without warning because he loves hearing the little whimper of surprise from you. while driving, alejandro can only do so much. he adds another finger, curls them, lets you thrust against his hand, but has to leave his special little tricks for the brief moments when the trucks stop and he can spend even a few seconds pumping his fingers at a pace that makes you grip his forearm with a moan of his name.

“c’mon, princesa. you like to ride my hand, yeah? want me to make you cum all around my fingers? right here in the truck where anyone can see? very dirty, my tough girl. need to stop INDULGING you so much.”

it’s a bluff, though. if anything, you’re the one who indulges his dirty habits. he just loves finger fucking you on the way back. loves it when you cum and your voice is just a little hoarse from yelling during the mission so the moan is just slightly scratchy. loves having drinks with his men later with the faint smell of you still lingering on his hand. loves catching your eye from across the room and knowing you’ll be returning the favor tonight in the privacy of your home.

[poussacha]

My Maxley Fics Masterpost

✨🎆the rise and fall of a midwest love affair series

[the man, the myth, the legend. The series I'm writing based on Chappell Roan's Midwest Princess Album. A story for most tracks (some of them are mashups).]

[This series does not need to be read in order whatsoever, they're all independent of one another (allegedly)]

hit it like it's hot to go

Rated E | F/F Genderbent Maxley | 17,477 Words | Complete

Summary: It’s pitch black and from the booth she can only really make out flashes of light and a writhing mass of bodies. Their voices lift to sing in unison with the music she’s broadcasting while their bodies undulate like live wires.

This is the part she loves most about playing in clubs. The drunken, writhing mass of voices that lend her their ears. They listen to her heavy-handed remixes, her mash-ups, her house beats all without a single complaint. For a moment, she controls their narrative, holding them captive with a beat.

She’s three quarters of the way through her set when her least favorite part about playing in clubs rears its ugly head. In the form of a wasted brunette with long curly hair and a sneer.

“Can you play a song with a fucking beat ?”

OR

Max is a DJ at a club Brittney (Bradley) frequents with her finance bro boyfriend. Brittney tries her damndest to be obnoxious. Max might just be endeared toward her anyway.

Tags: DJ AU, homophobic slurs, minor violence from a fist fight, internalised homophobia, lesbians, jumpscare het sex, man attacking a woman, implied/referenced domestic abuse, explicit sexual content, degradation kink, vers characters, praise kink, tongue piercings, angst, heartbreak, cheating, genderbent

Song: Femininomenon To Go Mashup

Playlist(s):

hit it like it's hot to go (official)

After Midnight

Rated T | M(IN)/F College AU (Trans Masc!Intersex!Bradley x Cis!Fem! Max) | 130,703 Words | Complete as of Jan 1, 2025

Updates on all days ending on 7 and on most days that are multiples of 7

Summary: It’s Max’s first year at university. She arrives on campus with her two best friends PJ and Bobby in Bobby’s beat up sleeper van from the 1970s that reeks of musk, weed, and boy sweat. She doesn’t know yet what this year has in store, but she hopes it’s something to remember.

Bradley is in his final year in law school. Just trying to graduate, pass the bar, and move on with his life. That is, until someone comes along to change his perspective.

Tags: CHEATING, INFIDELITY, AGE GAP, College AU, genderbent, fem!Max Goof, fem!PJ Pete, masc!Bobby Zimmeruski, fem!Roxanne Rover, fem!Stacey, trans!Bradley Uppercrust III, intersex!Bradley Uppercrust III, masc!Tank, no x-games, underage drinking, marijuana use, falling asleep in precarious situations, fist fight, harrassment, masturbation, shotgunning, fishing trips, San Francisco, indulgent touching, body worship, body dysmorphia, semi-nudity, tws at the top of every chapter

Song: After Midnight

Playlist(s):

After Midnight (Official)

Gamma Mu Mu House Party Playlist

& if you let me, i would've loved you always

California

Rated E | M/M Doctor!Bradley x Disabled!Dancer!Max AU | 23,857 Words | Incomplete

WARNING: DUB-CON, DEAD DOVE

Summary: Max Goof is at the prime of his life. He’s finally realized his dream of becoming the main dancer and choreographer for his favorite singer of all time, Powerline. That is, until an accident brings everything crashing down in an instant.

Leading to him to return home to Ohio, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Will he find peace back home with his dad? Or will being back in Ohio only complicate things more?

Tags: blow jobs, bathroom sex, public sex, disabling incident, characters with disabilities, ableism, toxic relationships, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, incomplete spinal cord injury, polyamory, angst, wheelchair user max goof, canonically disabled della duck, discussions of medical insurance, allusions to drug abuse, eating disorders, slow burn, EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT, DUBIOUS MORALITY, POWER IMBALANCE, semi-public sex, prostate examinations, erectile dysfunction

Song: California

Playlist(s):

i'm never gonna get the things i want the most

🐩Standalone Maxley Fics

i just wanna sweet talk for awhile

Rated E | M/M Canon Divergent Post X-Games AU | 2,975 Words | Complete

Summary: They were always fighting. Two sides diametrically opposed. Except, as perfect opposites, they find themselves pulled together like magnets. Until they can't deny their chemistry.

Tags: fluff, self indulgent, frottage, frotting, inexperienced bradley uppercrust iii, experienced max goof, bottom bradley uppercrust iii, top max goof, soft boys, shockingly gentle to be something written by me, body worship, gentle words

Song: Sugar High

take it like a taker

Rated E | M/M Canon Divergent Post X-Games BDSM AU | 5,777 Words | Complete

Summary: Bradley's breath is quiet, measured. Muscles tensing beneath Max's fingertips, illuminated by the warm orange glow of candlelight, as he deftly loops ropes in simple patterns around his upper thigh and ankle. Until his legs bend open, splayed

His wrists are next. A simple double column across both arms and up through the center. OR

The shibari and wax play fic nobody asked for

Tags: shibari, wax play, porn without plot, BDSM, dom max, sub bradley, hurt/comfort, sub drop, panic, aftercare, bradley is the biggest brat, humans because getting wax out of fur sounded painful, max might be a brat tamer if you squint, self-indulgent, body worship, rimming

Song: The Giver

i feel so untouched & i want you so much

Rated E | M/M Fifth Column return to PJ's House with Bradley AU | 4,887 Words | Complete (Christmas Oneshot)

Summary: Max and George return to PJ, Vicki, Tres, and Bobby's house in Northern Ohio. This time to help them pack their things and move back to Spoonerville. Bradley accompanies them on their journey.

Tags: based on Fifth Column by Madam_Muffins, if you haven't read that fic this one probably won't make sense, porn with some plot, Anal Sex, Bradley is a Brat, Max is a brat right back, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, Banter, i tried to keep them as in character as possible, missing scene au from the source work

Song: Untouched

Oneshot for: @madammuffins

🐩Maxley & Goofline🎤⚡

if we listen to each other's hearts

Rated T | M/M & M/M Christmastime Miscommunication AU | 14,974 Words | Complete (Christmas Oneshot)

Summary: Max and Goofy both have new partners to introduce to each other during Christmas. Little do either of them know, both are familiar faces from their past. With a few adventures and funny misconceptions along the way, everyone reunites.

Tags: fade to black smut scenes, funny miscommunication, max and his dad are both bisexual but haven't come out to each other, bradley and powerline are along for the ride, powerline's name is trevor, thanks to blxejxtice_, fluff, the sweetest thing i've written to date, crying over how soft this is, soft gays for my soft gays, bobby and pj only mentioned

Song: I2I

Oneshot for: jennadrawskinda (IG), zebombul (IG), and blxejxtice_ (IG)

🐕🐩🐕‍🦺Braxanne (Bradley/Max/Roxanne) OT3 Fics

i'm so obsessed with your ex

Rated E | M/M/F Mean Girls/Swap AU (Boy Next Door!Bradley x Homeschooled!Max x Queen Bee!Roxanne) | 19,324 Words | Complete

Summary: Max moves to Spoonerville after spending his formative years traveling around the world with his dad and his stepmom to study weather phenomena. Specifically lightning storms. He runs into a bit of a storm himself when Brad Uppercrust and Roxanne Rover both take a liking to him at the same time.

Tags: Mean Girls AU if you squint, Brad is the boy next door, Roxxane is the Queen Bee, this a brad and roxanne swap AU, surprise, max is a virgin, roxanne wants him bibilically, so does brad, brad and roxanne are bitter (?) exes, halloween parties, threesomes, explicit sex, teasing, praise kink, multiple orgasms, underage drinking, everyone is 18, but this takes place in the us so, MMF threesome

Song: Obsessed

Playlist(s):

i'm so obsessed with your ex

🛹⭐Sw00ney Brobert Swap AU fics (not maxley)

Brad Crust x Robert Zimmeruski

More from the Swap AU here on Sw00ney's ig

bite your tongue or i'll do it for you

Rated E | M/M | 2,007 Words | Complete

Summary: Brad convinced Robert to do something stupid again, this is the aftermath of their latest near-death experience.

Tags: they're so unhinged in this, degradation kink, brat on deck, going in dry, sort of, begging, wacky power dynamics, dirty talk, they're so mean to each other, but it's love i swear, established relationship, robert is a rich boy, brad's just a teenage dirtbag baby, i had too much fun writing this

Song: Good Hurt

Art for this fic by kofiracha!

beautiful boy, your words are made of poetry

Rated E | M/M | 1,457 Words | Incomplete

Summary: Bobby comes over to yell at Brad for something he (allegedly) didn't do only to find him suffering from an intense migraine.

Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: slow updates, migraines, hurt/comfort

Song: Sugar High

🐱‍🏍🐛Other AEGM fics (that aren't maxley)

Bobby x Max

open our bodies, i quietly knock on your door

Rated E | M/M (Trans!Masc!Max x Cis!Masc!Bobby) | 1,902 Words | Complete

Summary: "Fuck," Max says, coughing a little at the tail end of his latest hit. His voice echoes in his head, making him feel like he's at the crossroads of a hundred different timelines. Consciousness dipping and floating through each. Like he's the doorway of time. "What did you say this was?"

"OG Blueberry Creme," Bobby drawls, voice slow like syrup. He takes the blunt when Max passes it back to him, raising it to his lips to take another hit. "One of my all-time favorite highs, man."

OR

Bobby and Max get high and fool around in his van. That's it, that's the fic.

Tags: porn without plot, explicit sex, cum play, marijuana use, having sex under the influence, established relationship, van sex, trans Max Goof

the things i want the most

Rated E | M/M California-Verse AU what if Maxby instead of Maxley | 12,897 Words | Complete (Christmas Oneshot)

Summary: Bobby's coworker convinces him to go to Powerline's Christmas Concert Extravaganza in New York. Begrudgingly, he agrees. Only to find himself dressed as a Slutty Santa at an after-party in hopes of reconnecting with his old friend turned backup dancer for the Powerline, Max Goof.

Tags: takes place in california-verse, New York City, au of california-verse, explicit sex, public sex, allusions to sexual abuse in Hollywood, you've heard of snakes on a plane, but have you heard of sex on a train, Bobby's van is called Bertha, purple prose everywhere as far as the eye can see, author doesn't know shit about the NYC subway system, all train shit based on BART in NorCal, and you can fucking TELL, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Sex in a van, smoking weed, Drug Use, Explicit Drug Use, sex under the influence, Dirty Talk, Cum Play, Multiple Orgasms, somebody get these boys some water

Song: California

Oneshot for: Sw00ney (Instagram)

Bradley x Kyo (Fratchanic by Crossoutz_ on IG)

so, honey, hold my hand (you like making me wait for it)

Rated G | M/M Fratchanic AU by Crossoutz_ on IG | 2,977 Words | Complete (Christmas Oneshot)

Summary: Kyo honestly has no clue why Bradley keeps showing up at the body shop unannounced. There is absolutely no logical reason for him to go there every single day. BUT there is an illogical one. If they're willing to admit it.

Tags: Kyo belongs to crossoutz_, i'm only borrowing him to make someone happy, fluff, pre-relationship, author doesn't know shit about cars, but spent a lot of time in a body shop growing up, bradley is super sweet, PJ is a little shit, everyone in the body shop ships this like fedex, even pete, fratchanic

Song: I Really Like You

Oneshot for: Kofiracha (Instagram)

[thatlotuscookie]

hi, how are you going? i was wondering if you could write something for dabi x reader who is civilian (she's not a hero and she's not a villain) but she's not quirkless either (she has a healing quirk, but she can heal only bleeding wounds). and one day dabi gets hurt on his mission and he passes out or something and reader finds him and obviously recognizes him and debates if she should take a villain to her house but decided to treat his wounds and take care of him. and she does, and the next morning dabi wakes up in a warm, cozy room and he feels like home for the first time in forever (i feel like even though villains have those hideouts they're still kinda homeless) he feels like he doesn't want to ever leave this place. and he keeps coming back every time he's hurt, and he falls in love with reader and he wants to spend every possible night with her in her house❤️🥺so cute. could you make it a longer one please

✧･ﾟ: a/n : love thiss. thank you for the request anon and thank you for the wait. i hope you enjoy this one

✧ Title: ✧ A Home for the Wounded ✧ ✧ Characters: Dabi x Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Romance, Drama, Slight Angst, ✧ Rating: T ✧ Summary: You’re just a regular civilian with a healing quirk that can only heal bleeding wounds. One day, you find Dabi unconscious after a mission gone wrong. ✧ Content Warnings/Tags: Depictions of injury, Discussions of mental health, Dabi x Reader, Healing Quirk, Vulnerability, Slow Burn, Emotional Growth, Domestic Fluff, Comfort ✧ WC: 3120 words // 17k chars

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the small town as you prepared dinner in your cozy kitchen. The rich aroma of herbs and spices filled the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. You were used to taking care of others, tending to the wounded with your healing quirk. It was a gift that made you feel somewhat out of place—neither a hero nor a villain, just a civilian with a knack for mending broken bodies.

As you chopped vegetables, you hummed softly, lost in the rhythm of preparing dinner. It was a peaceful evening, and the world outside seemed far away. You took a moment to enjoy the solitude, reflecting on your day spent tending to a few minor injuries from a local sports event.

However, the tranquility was shattered by a loud crash echoing from the alley outside your home. A jolt of adrenaline surged through you as your heart raced. Curiosity piqued, you set down your knife and approached the window, peering out into the dimming light. What you saw sent a wave of panic through you.

Dabi, the notorious villain you had only heard about in hushed whispers, lay sprawled out in the alley, barely conscious. His torn clothes and the deep gash on his side were stark against the cold ground. Blood pooled around him like a dark omen, and the sight made your stomach churn.

Fighting against your instincts, you took a deep breath. “He needs help,” you whispered to yourself, glancing back at your safe home. You couldn’t just let him bleed out. Despite the risks, you rushed outside, heart pounding in your chest.

As you approached, a mix of fear and determination filled you. Dabi looked up, confusion and pain flashing in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he slurred, trying to push himself up but failing.

“Just stay still,” you replied, kneeling beside him. “I’m going to help you.”

He smirked weakly, though it looked more like a grimace. “You really think you can help a villain?”

You focused on assessing the wound, feeling a sense of urgency wash over you. “I have a healing quirk. It’ll stop the bleeding, but you need to get to a hospital.”

He shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No hospitals. Just… do what you can.”

With a determined nod, you helped him sit up, positioning yourself behind him to support his weight. “Alright, but you need to trust me. I’m going to carry you back to my place.”

He snorted, clearly skeptical. “Yeah, right. And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’m stronger than I look,” you said, mustering your confidence. It took every ounce of strength, but you managed to help him back to your house. As you crossed the threshold, a rush of anxiety coursed through you. What were you doing, bringing a villain into your home? But the thought of leaving him out there, bleeding and vulnerable, made it impossible to turn back.

Once inside, you guided him to your small living room, where a plush couch awaited. Dabi flopped onto it, letting out a pained groan as you hurried to gather your supplies. Your hands shook slightly as you prepared antiseptic and gauze, your mind racing with what could go wrong.

“Just… get it over with,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, and it made your heart ache. As you applied antiseptic to the wound, trying to be gentle, he winced. “Sorry,” you murmured, focusing on the task at hand.

After cleaning the wound, you concentrated your healing quirk on the gash, feeling the warmth of your energy seep into him. It was a strange sensation, being so close to someone you’d only ever heard of in hushed whispers. As the blood began to clot and the wound started to close, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The scars on his body told stories of battles fought and hardships endured.

When you finally finished, Dabi opened his eyes, blinking slowly. “That… actually helped,” he said, surprise evident in his voice.

You smiled softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. “Good. Just try to rest now. You’ll need your strength.”

He propped himself up on the couch, looking around your cozy living room. “You really brought me here, huh?”

“Someone had to help you,” you replied, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and tossing it over him. “Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there.”

His gaze softened as he watched you, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper flickering in his eyes. “You’re different,” he mused, almost to himself. “Most people would’ve just run the other way.”

“I’m not most people,” you said lightly, sitting down in a chair across from him. “Besides, everyone deserves help, even you.”

Dabi snorted, an amused glint in his eyes. “That’s a dangerous mindset to have.”

You shrugged, feeling your cheeks flush at the intensity of his gaze. “Maybe. But it’s how I was raised. People can surprise you.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, the only sound the soft rustle of the blanket as he shifted. Dabi looked more relaxed now, the tension in his body easing.

Eventually, he spoke up again, his voice quieter. “You have a nice place. Feels… cozy.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest at his compliment. “Thanks. It’s not much, but I like it.”

He met your gaze, a serious look in his eyes. “I’ve never really had a home, you know? Just hideouts and places to lay low.”

Your heart ached at his confession, realizing how lonely he must feel despite being surrounded by others in the League. “You can stay here as long as you need to,” you offered without thinking.

“Really?” Dabi’s voice was low, disbelief flickering across his features.

“Of course. I mean, I can’t have you bleeding out on my couch. It’s just… common sense.” You laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension, but there was a hint of truth to your words. You found yourself wanting him around.

He regarded you for a moment, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m not… I’m not a good person.”

“Neither am I,” you replied with a small smile. “But we can try to be better together, right?”

Dabi chuckled, the sound deep and low. “You really are something else, huh?”

You shrugged again, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

He settled back against the couch, a soft smile forming on his lips. “Guess I’ll be crashing here more often then.”

Your heart skipped a beat, excitement coursing through you at the thought. You spent the night talking, sharing stories and laughing, and as the hours passed, Dabi’s presence filled the room with a warmth that felt strangely comforting. You found yourself entranced by the way he spoke, the way his eyes sparkled when he shared a piece of himself with you.

When morning came, you woke to the soft rays of sunlight streaming through your window. You glanced over to see Dabi still asleep on the couch, his features peaceful and serene, a stark contrast to the chaos he usually embodied. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—he looked almost vulnerable in that moment, a man stripped of his villainous façade.

After preparing breakfast, you set a plate beside him, gently nudging him awake. Dabi blinked awake, disoriented for a moment until his gaze landed on the food. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” you said cheerfully. “Thought you might be hungry.”

He sat up slowly, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. You noticed the way he hesitated before reaching for the food, almost as if he were unsure he deserved it.

“Eat up,” you encouraged, handing him a fork.

As he took a bite, his eyes widened in surprise. “This is… actually good.”

You laughed, enjoying the look of disbelief on his face. “Of course it is. I’m not that bad of a cook!”

Dabi smirked, his demeanor lightening as he took another bite. “Guess I underestimated you.”

A comfortable silence fell between you again, the warmth of the food and the cozy atmosphere wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Thanks for not kicking me out last night,” Dabi said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. “You didn’t have to take me in.”

You shrugged, a soft smile on your lips. “I wanted to help. And honestly, I’m glad you’re here.”

His gaze flickered to you, and you could feel the intensity of his stare. “You’re something else, you know that? Most people wouldn’t want a villain in their home.”

“Maybe they just don’t see the person beneath the villain,” you replied, feeling brave. “Everyone has their reasons for being who they are.”

He fell silent, and for a moment, you wondered what thoughts were swirling through his mind. Then, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his expression serious. “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Should I be?” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. But deep down, you felt a twinge of vulnerability in his question.

“Maybe,” he replied, his smirk returning. “But I’m glad you’re not.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, laughing, and sharing stories about your lives. The more you learned about him, the more you realized how complex he truly was—a man shaped by pain, longing for acceptance and a place to call home.

As night fell, you found yourself sitting on the couch together, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room. Dabi was leaning against the armrest, his eyes slightly unfocused as he glanced at you, lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up inside you.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel… normal.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “Normal can be overrated. It’s nice to be a little different.”

Dabi chuckled softly, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. The connection between you deepened, and you knew that despite the darkness of his past, there was a light that could shine through.

In the weeks that followed, Dabi became a regular fixture in your life. He would appear at your doorstep, sometimes with small gifts—a book he thought you’d like or a random trinket he found interesting. And every time he entered your home, it felt like an adventure waiting to unfold.

You shared meals, movie nights, and late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours. Slowly, the barriers between you began to dissolve, and you both found solace in each other’s company. You learned to see the man beneath the scars and shadows, and Dabi learned that not everyone would judge him for his past.

One night, as you curled up together on the couch, Dabi looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’ve changed me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, searching his gaze for the truth in his words. “I just helped you see who you really are. You’re not just a villain, Dabi.”

He smiled softly, and you could see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Maybe I don’t have to be.”

As you leaned in closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him, you knew that this connection was something special. It was more than just helping a wounded villain; it was about two souls finding their way to each other amidst the chaos of the world.

In that moment, you realized that together, you could create a space that felt like home—a place where both of you could heal, grow, and perhaps even find love.

As the weeks turned into months, your bond deepened. Dabi started to reveal more about his past, the struggles he faced, and the choices he made. And each time, you listened without judgment, offering comfort and understanding. In return, he shared laughter, jokes, and even moments of vulnerability that he had never shown anyone before.

It was during one particularly quiet evening that you both found yourselves lying on the couch, watching the stars twinkle outside your window. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, and you turned to him, your heart racing.

“Dabi,” you began hesitantly, “do you ever think about what it would be like to… start over?”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression thoughtful. “Every day. But it’s hard to imagine what that would look like for me.”

“What if it didn’t have to be so hard?” you proposed gently. “What if you could find a new path, one that didn’t involve the League or the darkness that surrounds you?”

He studied you for a long moment, and you could see the flicker of hope in his eyes. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I believe it’s possible. And I want to help you find that path.”

He leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “You really mean that?”

You nodded, determination filling you. “I do. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

As the tension between you thickened, Dabi hesitated before reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

“I just want to see you happy,” you replied softly, your heart racing at the closeness.

In that moment, something shifted between you. Dabi leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative kiss. It was soft at first, both of you surprised by the sudden rush of emotions that surged between you. But as the kiss deepened, you melted against him, your heart soaring.

When you finally pulled back, both breathless and wide-eyed, Dabi’s gaze locked onto yours. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing. “But I’m glad it happened.”

He smirked, the familiar mischief returning to his expression. “Guess I’ll have to keep surprising you then.”

From that day on, your relationship evolved into something beautiful. You spent your days exploring the world together, finding joy in the little things. Dabi would teach you about the city’s hidden corners, and you would introduce him to your favorite hobbies—cooking, painting, and even gardening. With each passing moment, the walls he had built around his heart began to crumble.

You watched as he blossomed, the light of hope flickering brighter in his eyes. He started to smile more, laugh freely, and even open up about his dreams. It was a remarkable transformation, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for the progress he was making.

But with every step forward, there were also challenges. Dabi would sometimes pull away, haunted by his past, and the weight of his choices would threaten to drown him. During those moments, you would remind him of the strength he held within, encouraging him to keep pushing forward.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch, the sunset casting a golden hue over the landscape, Dabi turned to you with a serious expression. “What if I mess this up? What if I can’t be the person you see in me?”

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re not perfect, and neither am I. But we’ll face whatever comes our way together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of uncertainty lifting slightly. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “You’ve already come so far. I have faith in you.”

In that moment, Dabi leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s not true,” you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. “You deserve all the happiness in the world. And I want to help you find it.”

As he pulled back, his gaze softened, and a genuine smile broke across his face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, feeling the warmth of his words wash over you. “I’m just being honest.”

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Your bond only grew stronger, and each day spent together felt like an adventure waiting to unfold. Dabi began to find solace in your presence, and the shadows that once loomed over him started to fade away.

One night, as you sat on the couch together, a movie playing in the background, Dabi looked at you with a thoughtful expression. “You’ve changed my life.”

You turned to him, surprise flickering in your eyes. “I didn’t do that much.”

“Yes, you did,” he insisted, his tone serious. “You showed me that I can be more than just a villain. You’ve given me hope.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his words. “I just wanted you to see the person I see.”

Dabi reached out, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “And I want to be that person for you. I’m done running from my past.”

Your heart soared at his confession, a sense of relief washing over you. “I believe in you.”

As the weeks passed, you began to make plans for a future together—one where Dabi could start fresh, free from the constraints of his past. You dreamt of traveling, exploring new places, and creating memories that would last a lifetime.

One evening, as you prepared dinner together, Dabi watched you chop vegetables with an amused expression. “I can’t believe you actually enjoy cooking,” he teased, leaning against the counter.

You shot him a playful glare, a smile tugging at your lips. “What’s wrong with cooking? It’s therapeutic!”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just never thought I’d meet a villain who loves to cook.”

You chuckled, the lightness of the moment easing any lingering tension. “Well, you know what they say—everyone has layers.”

“Just like an onion,” he quipped, mimicking the way you chopped.

As laughter filled the kitchen, the bond between you grew stronger, solidifying the trust and affection that had blossomed over the months. You felt like a team, ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

That night, as you both settled into bed, Dabi wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, a comforting presence that made you feel safe.

“Thanks for everything,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

“Always,” you replied, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you would face it together—two souls intertwined, ready to carve out a new path filled with hope, love, and the promise of a brighter future.

[ladyofchroyane]

of course it’s an alicent profile pic saying this shit:

the thing is, i would’ve agreed with the original sentiment of this post if it wasn’t for the tags, but then this person goes mask off and proves to me that they were only pretending to offer meaningful criticism.

cause all i see in these tags is buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️ buzzword 🗣️🗣️

i just wanna know, why are the targaryens always singled out as the house that ‘regularly cannibalizes its own?’

these don’t exist ig: the she-wolves of winterfell, the current lannisters, and literally every House ever.

why are the targaryens held to such an unfair standard? and why are they held responsible for the sins of their ancestors?

it is literally so funny. but like… in an astonishing kind of way.

in these tags there’s no objective language used 🙅‍♀️ no care for nuance 🙅‍♀️ and no meaningful interaction with the main themes of the series 🙅‍♀️

OP kind of tries to pretend, but it’s all surface level shit. it’s clear that they’re blinded by their hatred of the targs and dany.

because george never holds things his characters can’t control against them. what a character should be judged by is their actions, and imo, that’s what george writes about: how individual characters actions and choices can shape the world around them (bonus if the character is a cripple, bastard, or broken thing and is trying to protect others); and he also puts a lot of emphasis on a characters intentions and how they come to their decisions, which gets us his famous ‘human heart in conflict with itself’ thesis statement.

george, someone who’s interested in the choices of the individual and how they get there, clearly thinks it’s important to showcase how different characters handle great power, otherwise he wouldn’t have so many POV characters in positions of such great importance.

on that note, asoiaf isn’t an anti-monarchy piece. you could easily claim that it’s a criticism of systematic oppression, systematic violence, corrupt institutions, and unbalanced social structures; it’s a sort of think piece on how people in positions of power destroy the lives of the common in their petty fights of greed and ambition, all whilst ignoring the incoming humanity ending threat.

and through this thought process, you get the title of the first book: a game of thrones. the political shifts are a game for these powerful people, and this motif is one of the most important statements to understand in order to interact with the series discussion on what it means to be a good ruler. this motif also comes up in a conversation jorah and dany have about the smallfolk: “It is no matter to them if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they are left in peace. They never are.” it’s high lords, not royals. it’s a critique of the whole social structure and political system, not a criticism of one family.

so, if you’re of this belief that petty power disputes are dumb and are angry that most high lords don’t give a shit about their subjects, then you should love daenerys, who’s one of the few characters who’s using her power to make lasting societal change.

now, is she perfect? no. no she’s not. cause she’s a teenage girl trying to take down a slave trade that’s been around for thousands of years (hilarious that she’s actually fixing the mistakes of her ancestors…). but dany is learning and is doing her best to get better and is trying to empower the powerless. that sets her apart from almost every other ruler in asoiaf and makes her one of the most important POVs in this book series quest to find out what makes a good ruler. something something gods make kings and queens to protect those who can’t protect themselves…

with that in mind, i agree that the conclusion of the series won’t be a character sitting on a throne because of their blood or because of some divine right mumbo jumbo. imo, a character will only sit on a throne if they’ve been smart, gained allies, formed alliances, have control of an army, have gained loyalty from the people they wish to rule, have been honorable, maybe have a dragon or three, and are a hero.

dany has checked off almost all the boxes, so i think it’s safe to root for her. and considering the foreshadowing, i think it’s logical to guess that peace will be ushered in, even if it’s a hard won peace. and what’s wrong with believing that daenerys will be one of the ones who helps usher in this peace after all the work she’s done to protect those who don’t have the power to protect themselves?

[saturnzskyzz]

The couple that fights the most among the members might be Taehyung and Jimin.

So when they fight, will it turn into a tickle war?

It could be a funny and cute story and please switch the two. And please let things happen in the car.

(so the tickle fight should be in the car)

Lee; taehyung jimin

Ler; taehyung jimin

AAH! I love this idea, thank you! 🙏

I'm sorry for how short it's going to be, my apologies!

Nonetheless, enjoy reading! :]

(The photo of vmin I added below will be the target of discussion for starting this fanfic so you all aren't confused by where this is starting. *context, the photo was taken in a car*)

Divider credits

Nude divider

Taglist(I couldn't remember who else wanted to be tagged, but if you want to be tagged in these fics, then just let me know!)

@btspopperssg @cookiegirlsstuff

Car ride shenanigans

Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi were all in a car heading back to their dorm after a long day of recording a RunBTS episode. It had everyone quite exhausted and all wanted a peaceful drive back home before having to wake up to do rehearsal's with their new comeback single.

Taehyung, though tired and already drifting off to rest, wanted to take a photo with Jimin real fast to savor the moment.

"Wait, Jimin! Let me take it again, the lighting doesn't look quite right!" taehyung said after scoping out the photo he had just took of him and the older.

"What do you mean, Tae? It looks fine." jimin tried to lighten the mood by reassuring him since Taehyung always does this when taking pictures in the car.

Tae, however, was not buying it so he deleted the photo and tried again by holding up the phone once more, motioning Jimin to chime in at any moment. But Jimin only looked at the younger in disbelief.

"Hey!- I'm not doing it again, Tae. Why'd you delete it?" Jimin argued, crossing his arms. He quite liked the silly atmosphere of the photo, yet was baffled that it no longer registered in Taehyung's phone.

"What do you mean? I didn't like it, now get in frame!" Tae said, grabbing at Jimin's shirt to pull him in frame, but he only got a stubborn Jimin, and a few pokes to get him to dislodge the offending hand off his shirt.

"Hehehey!" Taehyung began to panickly giggle, now dropping his arm with the camera to rest it on one of his legs while he used his other hand to block out the pokes, yet failed, from Jimin.

"I'm sorry Taehyung, but you're not getting another photo with me in this exact car tonight. You had your chance." Jimin then launched both hands to attack the younger's sides out of playfullness now, enjoying the scene either way.

"AAH!- Jihihimin! Quhuhuit ihihit!" Taehyung begged, trying to grab at the attacking hands, but Jimin was precise on moving his hands quickly to catch Taehyung off guard.

"This is what you get for deleting that masterpiece of a photo!" Jimin said, never recioling his attack.

Ohoh, Taehyung did not take that one bit.

"Fihihihine! Hahahave it yohohour wahahay!" Taehyung said, now darting his hands at Jimin's sides to catch the older by surprise.

Jimin, startled by the touch, retreated his hands to grab at the offending fingers by the wrists, trying desperately, yet failing, to push them away.

"NOHOhohoho! Tahahae, Stahahahap!" Was really all Jimin could say before dissolving in sweet, high-pitched giggles.

"NOHOho! Yohou're the one whoho started this mess!" Taehyung bit back, laughing at the fact that Jimin's giggles always seem to catch Tae's amusement. His giggles are contagious, it's no lie here. Even Hoseok and Yoongi chuckled here and there upon hearing the both of their frantic giggling. It's normal for them to bicker, and poke fun at with each other.

"Hohow about you two take the photo once more, and if one of you disagrees again, then no more photos, deal?" Yoongi suggested.

Tae stopped his offending hands, yet still holding onto Jimin's sides to throw the poor dude off.

"Yoongi.. I'mma be real, that was a boring, yet logical answer from you." Tae answered honestly. He saw Yoongi's eye dart up to look at him from the rear view mirror, causing Tae immediately regret his choice of words.

"I'm tickling the shit out of you when we get home, Tae." Yoongi said in a low, monotone and calm voice all at the same time to make Tae nervous. All the while, Jimin, who was enjoying too much of his predicament, quite liked Yoongi's idea.

"Whahatever wohohorks! Ihihi just want Tahae's hands ohohoff me!" Jimin said, still trying to break free from Taehyung.

"Well, if only you had taken another photo with me, then maybe you wouldn't be in this predicament!" Taehyung emphasized the 'be' by digging his hands into Jimin's armpits. This threw Jimin in a loop of hysteria.

"HAHAHAHA! T-TAEHEHEHEHE! NOHOHOAHAHAH!" Jimin sinked into his chair as best as he could, given that he was still strapped with the seatbelt, and shook his head from side to side. The feeling was unbearable.

"Guys?! Eh-? Ugh! Soho much for MY ihidea!" Yoongi giggled, defeated. He glanced at them both, using the rear view once again, and saw the wholesome scene before him for just a split second. Maybe they could go on a bit more.

"THAHAHAHATS IHIHIT!" Jimin, however fatigued, used all his strength to move his arms to latch onto Tae's armpits, to throw him off guard, resulting in Tae to forfeit his hands with a screech.

"nahahAHAHA! *hic* whihihiHIHIHI?!" Taehyung panicked. The way they were both seated before, was now switched from Tae being on the upper hand, to now being sinked into his seat, with Jimin shuffling to appear bigger and taller to intimidate Tae.

"Wehelp.. At least they aren't actually fighting back there, yeah?" Hoseok said, reassuring Yoongi while having himself turned to look at the two's chaos.

"..You're right. At least they aren't harming each other, that's good enough for me to continue driving." Yoongi agreed, then turning on the music radio to pan out the rest of Tae's boisterous laughter.

Yup, this is going to go on for the whole car ride..

[basorexia-formyboys]

SFW 2005

Souya Kawata×OC

Content warnings: none (fluff so sweet you might get cavities)

Tags: @love-and-lore @savedbysinners

Souya was not the kind of boy to pull random people into his and Nahoya's life, into his friend group of delinquents, into all of the chaos. And he particularly didn't want to drag Ogami Samuru into it all.

Ogami Samuru, or as Souya called him 'Samu', was the one secret he kept tightly locked away even from Nahoya. Samu was the most peaceful thing in Souya's life. Don't get him wrong, Souya loved delinquency down to his core, but having someone who he could only compare to a humanized peace dove in his life kept away from it all? It was like a secret heaven.

He'd begun to seek out Samu within the couple days after every gang fight and today was no different. But he was too focused on getting to Samu that, for the first time in a little over two years, he was sloppy about it. Souya had gotten as far as being in a fairly nice outfit and riding to a nice quiet cafe he'd suggested for he and Samu to try before he was noticed by Nahoya, Baji, and Mitsuya who'd been riding together after the whole Kisaki in Toman discussion.

Of course they didn't give any sign they were following him. Though Mitsuya was against it at first and just got pulled along with the other two, his interest was very peaked when Souya quickly dipped into a flower shop and came out with two decorative wood roses. One of them was nearly the same blue as Souya's hair and the other was pure white.

That was the first time Mitsuya and Baji had seen him break his usual scowl and look down at the roses with a small smile. He looked lovestruck, pulling his phone out to check something.

Souya glanced at the time, beginning to walk down the sidewalk towards the cafe. He never liked to drive too close to where Samu would be because of his modified motorcycle being loud, respectful of the quiet atmosphere Samu preferred. He walked in and looked around, entire expression softening as he noticed Samu at a booth in the corner with his back to the wall and facing the door.

Souya couldn't help but love Samu. The white hair boy was simple in the most complex ways. Right now, Samu had his hair half up like usual however he'd tucked the left side of his bangs behind his ear and was reading a book that was spread on the table in front of him. Souya felt like this was a first date, he felt like that every time they hung out because Samu didn't actually know Souya liked him.

With his face shades of pink, Souya took a deep breath and walked over. As soon as Samu noticed Souya, his head raised with a small and sweet smile that made Souya's chest hurt happily. Samu fit his bookmark into the book and slid it to the side, always giving Souya all of his attention.

"Are you alright Souya? You look a bit like you got in a fight.." Samu's voice was soft and always seemed like it was trailing off, the white haired boy's arm stretching over the table as Samu gently rubbed the outside of his right index and middle fingers against Souya's left cheek. Where he rubbed, a new bruise had begun to bloom from Toman's most recent fight against Moebius.

"Ah- Mhm- I did but I won!" Souya's voice was an attempt to be as soft as Samu's but he could never quite match Samu.

Baji, Nahoya, and Mitsuya had all found seats in the booth right behind Souya, glad that each booth had high backs and then half walls seperating them. Mitsuya had a small fond smile at the realization that this was something like a date.

"Please be careful.. I don't think I'd be of much help, but please call me if you need to. I can, at the least, patch you up.." Samu was genuinely worried for his friend. This was far from the first time seeing Souya beat up like this. Souya nodded with hummed agreement, leaning into the soft brushes on his cheek. Samu let out a very small breathy laugh.

"You're as affectionate as ever.. just like a cat" Samu smiled as he spoke and shifted his hand. He now cupped Souya's cheek and rubbed it with his thumb fondly. Both felt Souya's cheeks heat up with only drew another sweet laugh from Samu who pulled his hand back.

"Careful getting too red in the face, hun. People might think you like me and not just the affection" Samu's tone was playful but it made Souya's heart hurt. He did like Samu. They both knew eachother liked guys, Samu exclusively and Souya not, but Samu wasn't seeing Souya's small advances.

"Hello, could I get you three anything?" The waitress asked at Nahoya, Baji, and Mitsuya's table. Souya bit his tongue so it wouldn't get awkward around a waitress but his eyes shot open when he heard Mitsuya's voice rattle out three drinks. As soon as the waitress left, Souya spoke again.

"Could we go somewhere else. I want.. we could go to a park?" Souya was never one for improv. His only goal right now was to get away from Mitsuya and whoever the other two were.

Mitsuya and the others tensed, knowing they'd been caught.

"Hm? Of course, could we get drinks on the way? I'll pay this time" Samu began getting up, noticing Souya's rush but not commenting on it. He tucked his book, phone, and heaphones into his dark brown school bag beside his folded gakuran jacket. He looked at the second highest button, curious about something.

"Of course, but you don't have to pay! I like paying!" Souya was splitting his attention harshly, wanting to reassure Samu and not stumble on their conversation. But, as they walked out of the cafe, he shot a very angry glare at the three.

"Well now we gotta know just what all he's hiding. Cause he's definitely hiding it now" Baji chuckled, Nahoya nodding while Mitsuya sighed.

"Or– we let them be and if he wants to tell us later then he can. It may be someone he doesn't want dragged into Toman stuff." Mitsuya was clearly the most mature of the three but Nahoya and Baji both were mature enough to realize that was probably true. So Baji gave a sigh and they all thanked the waitress for their drinks.

"Has he never mentioned that guy to you?" Baji asked Nahoya and recieved Nahoya shaking his head with his straw in his mouth. After Nahoya swallowed his sip of frozen coffee, he spoke.

"Not once. He usually just sorta leaves the house at some point after all of Toman's fights and is out the whole day. I just thought he was driving around or something since he'd spend money. Never guessed he'd found a guy he liked" Nahoya gave a small, sad chuckle.

Souya didn't entirely trust Nahoya to not pull this boy into Toman stuff and maybe that was rightfully placed. Nahoya wasn't mad but he realized he needed to show his twin that this guy wouldn't get dragged into delinquent stuff.

.

.

"Hey Souya..?" Samu asked, resting his head on Souya's shoulder as they sat on a park bench. Despite the earlier intrusion, the two's rest of the day went without a hitch. Souya had given Samu the wood roses and Samu had beyond loved them, twirling them together with his free hand right now while the other was intertwined with Souya's. It was golden hour and they both felt so at peace.

"Yeah Samu?" Souya's voice was audibly sleepy but only because of how comfortable it felt to be around Samu.

"What would you do if I told you I love you..?" Samu's question made Souya jolt fully awake but he stopped himself from jolting physically so he didn't disturb Samu. He was clearly quiet for two long though, feeling Samu's head rise from his shoulder with a sigh from the white haired boy.

At one point or another, Samu had taken his hair out of its hairtie, letting it all fall straight. As Samu let his head hang a bit too look at the roses, his hair obscured his face. Souya was quick but delicate in brushing the hair on Souya's side behind Samu's ear. He looked so sad but Souya couldn't find words.

"I'm sorr-" Samu didn't get to finish as the blue eyed twin softly kissed his temple and then playfully bumped their heads together. Souya's eyes were trained on the roses the same as Samu's.

"I'd tell you I love you too. That I've known I've loved you for over a year, and that you're a dork and missed all of my advances" Souya whispered because of their proximity. This felt right. It felt safe.

"I love you Souya" Samu's smile was audible in his words and it made Souya smile too.

"I love you too Samu, my peace dove" Souya was smiling bright as he finally got to use the petname he'd been waiting to use for months. His forehead was still pressed to Samu's temple and they both enjoyed the closeness.

"If I'm your peace dove, you have to be my summer sky. A dove is nothing without the sky" Samu wasn't sure how he'd make a petname out of what he'd just said but he'd figure that out later.

"I love you so so much. I want to take you home and just get to hold you but my brother is going to be a pain" Souya couldn't find it in him to be peeved at his friends anymore, letting out a small laugh. Today had taken a wonderful turn.

"I love you so so so much too, soracchi. And I think cuddles are worth a little bit of an awkward first meet" Samu pulled his head back and Souya opened his eyes as Samu booped their noses together affectionately.

"Agreed. You can meet my mom too" Souya loved looking into Samu's eyes as he spoke to the white haired boy, even more so upclose. Neither he nor Samu understood why but his eyes had this opalescent iridescence to them. Souya thought it was beautiful, watching the colors shift as the boy looked around, but Samu had always said he wished he'd been born with 'normal' eyes.

"Taking me home to meet my future mother-in-law already, soracchi?" Samu teased, watching Souya pull back as he lit up red and fumbled over words. At first he was denying but then he was agreeing and he was just a flustered mess. Samu gently put his free hand over Souya's mouth and then kissed the back of his own hand as if he were kissing Souya. Souya looked like a tomato when Samu pulled back, opalescent eyes watching Souya while Samu giggled.

Souya couldn't even process words anymore, his mind was blank, his heart was pounding so hard with happiness that it physically hurt. He was so damn in love.

"Be my boyfriend.. please..." Souya's whisper came through a goofy grin. Samu lit up, placing the roses on the bench, and basically tackling Souya to the bench with a tight hug and vigorous nods of agreement.

"yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes-" Samu was giggly as he spoke, face burying into Souya's shoulder while Souya smiled and pulled Samu closer. He didn't pull Samu into his lap but he pulled Samu's legs over his own, both arms wrapped around Samu.

"I love getting held by my pretty boyfriend" Samu spoke so happily and Souya swore that with how happy Samu made him, he could take Nahoya's place as 'Smiley'. "However.. if I keep being held so sweetly, it'll be a bit hard to drive me to your home on your motorcycle while I sleep, soracchi" Samu giggled, audibly sleepy.

Souya chuckled and pulled way, standing and picking up the slightly shorter bridal style. This was a shock to Samu who gasped and then sweetly laughed and leaned to give Souya a kiss on his cheek. Samu made grabby hands towards the roses and his bag, Souya leaning them forward so Samu could grab them and put them on his lap.

"Y'know.. I was thinking earlier in the cafe on if it'd be too subtle to give you my second gakuran button" Samu happily hummed and Souya carried him towards the bluenette's bike.

"Well now you have to. Have to make sure everyone knows your heart belongs to someone" Souya teased Samu huffed happily, digging into his bag as they neared Souya's bike. Souya listened to Samu rip the button off the gakuran, jokingly imagining Mitsuya cringing at the action, and watched Samu pull the button out with a proud smile.

Souya was gentle putting Samu down while the opal eyed boy held onto his bag and the roses. Souya gently slipped the hairtie off Samu's wrist, much to the slightly shorter's confusion, before running his fingers though the white hair. Samu looked ready to melt, adoring Souya messing with his hair. Souya was gentle in tying it all up this time, looser than Samu had it earlier since he took it down because of it hurting.

"It might be a little awkward, but you could put it on a necklace maybe? Or a bracelet? If you keep getting in fights, a necklace would be better and close to your heart" Samu smiled at the button symbolizing one's beloved. Souya was definitely his.

"Speaking of," Souya's happiness had fallen a little. He loved Samu. But it would never be unconditional if Samu didn't at least know of Toman. Samu didn't have to meet them, Souya would prefer he didn't so Samu stayed safe, but Samu deserved to know why he'd come home with injuries. And Souya needed to know that Samu eould love him even as a delinquent.

"Hm? You can tell me anything Souya" Samu noticed the seriousness, wrapping his arms over Souya's shoulders and bonking their foreheads together now that his hair was gently pulled into a messy bun. He let his own eyes fall shut so he could listen to his boyfriend and wore a ghost of a smile.

"I.. I'm a delinquent. In a gang too." Souya spoke uneasily, only to watch Samu's smile grow.

"I kinda guessed, my sky. You've said you get into fights a lot and your knuckles always look really hurt, but now I get to patch you up and kiss your injuries better. My pretty delinquent" Samu's words were damn near life changing for Souya. Souya was once again fumbling for words and that got worse when white eyelashes parted and opalescent eyes looked into his from so close.

"I love you" was the only words Souya could whisper out, so he repeated them like saying them was addicting. His arms slipped around Samu's waist and held them almost flush together while Samu giggled and responded to every single 'I love you' with his own.

Souya couldn't help himself from picking Samu up and spinning him around, kissing random spots around the white haired boy's face while Samu laughed happily. He practically glowed despite the sky getting dark.

Souya loved every bit of Samu. From his head to his toes, his heart, his mind, his soul. They felt so much more intertwined than what just two years would've brought.

"We should get going, my delinquent! I'm sleeping over!" Samu laughed as he spoke, kissing across Souya's face now. Souya laughed too, nodding and setting Samu down. Samu was his, his boyfriend, his soulmate, his beloved, his world.

It was a small bit of a process being delicate putting the wood roses and button in Samu's bag where they wouldn't get broken or lost, but it got done and they took off towards the Kawata household. They were not aware that Nahoya had invited Baji and Mitsuya to apologize to Souya and with them he'd accidentally invited Chifuyu and Hakkai over. So now it was a friendly sleepover with three people owing someone an apology.

What they were not expecting was for Souya to bring Samu inside with both of them smiling. Hakkai and Chifuyu had been very quickly caught up on the situation but it was still a shock to see Angry so.. not scowling.

Samu gave a small laugh and poked Souya's side, his smile brightening the room. Suddenly they knew exactly why Souya had fell for Samu. The white haired boy looked, sounded, and acted like heaven incarnate.

"It looks like they were waiting for you, my sky" He teased and Souya walked over a bit pink in the face. He wasn't expecting for Baji and his twin to apologize, Mitsuya he kinda knew would. Samu walked after Souya, hugging him from behind and hooking his chin over Souya's shoulder with a sweet smile.

Those opalescent eyes were stuck on Souya as he spoke with Baji and Nahoya, lightly scolding them to not follow him again. Samu's eyes were clearly those of someone who was deeply in love. He did flick his eyes to the others and give a tiny wave and grin towards Hakkai, Chifuyu, and Mitsuya. All three ended up with their own grins and waving back.

As soon as Souya had stopped scolding his brother and Baji, Samu buried his face into Souya's neck with a small hum.

" 'm sleepy" Samu mumbled, smile audible even with the clearly sleepy tone. Souya turned pink again, having lost it while scolding his friend and brother, and turned his head to kiss Samu's head. Souya very much loved pda, he was typically quiet about his affections when in busy places but physical things like kisses were easy ways to show that he wasn't being cold or ashamed about it.

He turned to the others, Mitsuya chuckling and making shooing motions. Souya mouthed a 'thank you' before turning to Samu and surprising the boy by suddenly picking him up under the thighs. Samu let out sleepy laughs as he held onto Souya's shoulders, lower legs kicking like an excited child.

"Well that was fucking adorable, I'm gonna get cavities if I have to watch them anymore" Baji laughed as soon as the two had gone into the Kawata's bedroom. Immediately he was met with agreements and chuckles. They would of course tease Souya for this later but it was really nice to see him so happy.

"He's found someone who gives him peace against the chaos" Hakkai was really really happy for Souya and that was evident.

"Mm Nahoya? Sky said he's stealing your pillow so I can use his" Samu's energy had dropped exponentially once putting on a slightly top big shirt and pajamas from Souya. Samu was only half peaked out from the hallway but it was very clear those weren't his clothes that he'd come in wearing.

Nahoya gasped jokingly and shot up, ruffling Samu's hair as he passed and lightheartedly started an argument with Souya. Samu chuckled before looking back at the others and once again giving a sweet little wave.

"I'm Ogami Samuru, please feel free to call me whatever, and I'm Souya's boyfriend" Samu seemed unused to calling himself that but so excited to, so Chifuyu fed into that.

"Hello Souya's boyfriend!" He grinned before introducing himself and was followed by the others doing the same. Samu was really happy to have been opened up to a new side of Souya's life.

"Soooo, why do you call him sky? Is it cause of his hair?" Baji asked with a grin, wanting all the dorky details so he could tease Souya more.

"Mm hardly. It was almost completely because he calls me his dove, peace dove specifically, and a dove is nothing without the sky." Samu said and Chifuyu, ever the romance novel fanatic, internally went feral. Honestly the other three were too.

"Wedding dress or wedding suit?" Mitsuya blurted out. Baji and Hakkai's jaws dropped, Chifuyu shaking Mitsuya by his shoulders with random 'thank you's while Mitsuya and Samu just began laughing. Souya, who was pulling Samu in by his collar, turned tomato red. Nahoya escaped his blue haired twin's grasp and laughed in shock at the question.

Samu looked so lovestruck with the idea of marrying Souya, while Souya looked at Samu as if he were realizing this were real and he really wanted to marry Samu.

"Suit for me"

"Dress-suit please!"

Souya amd Samu answered at the same time, Samu's hands coming up to cover his bright pink face and massive grin.

"Come and sit with the rest of us, lovebirds! We wanna know more about future Kawata Samuru!" Nahoya laughed, patting a spot on the ground. Everyone had been chilling in a sort of semi circle so Souya joined and then Samu giggled and plopped into his lap. Samu looked adorably small in Souya's pajamas and in his lap, despite being only two inches shorter than his boyfriend.

"So how did you two meet?" Chifuyu was the first to pop a question, hoping this was just like a romance novel.

"Welll, according to sky, we met shortly after the Jugem and Twin Devils fight," Samu began. On the drive, Souya had basically dropped a bunch of information about his delinquency and Toman and everything. It was fascinating. "We were classmates in one of the only classes he didn't have with Nahoya and he came in really hurt. I offered to take him to the nurse when he started falling asleep in class."

"More like he was passing out- Mochizuki gave us some damn brain damage" Nahoya laughed and Souya rolled his eyes. The blue haired twin had wrapped his arms and was resting his forehead on Samu's shoulder, so at peace like this. Surrounded by friends in a nonviolent situation and with his peace in his arms. It couldn't be better.

"Well now I gotta fight him myself! No one hurts my sky and his twin and gets away with it!" Samu laughed, playfully hitting his right fist to his left palm.

"Wait- two things. One, you've known Souya for two years and we're just now learning about you? And two, can you fight?" Hakkai blurted out both of his questions and Samu smiled.

"To the first one, yes. Souya didn't hide me for any malicious reason, he just wanted to keep me out of general gang stuff. To the second, yes but probably not nearly as good as any of you" Samu rested his head leaning against Souya's.

"Do you fight any specific way?" Baji asks. Souya's grip on Samu tightened a bit and Samu's head shifted so his forehead was against the side of Souya's head, the ivory haired boy motioning for Baji to hold on.

"I'm not joining Toman or any other gangs, alright? An entire gang could get on their knees and beg and I wouldn't. Someone's gotta be home to patch you all up" Souya's grip loosened and he was visibly more relaxed with the comfort from Samu. It was clear to everyone that Samu knew exactly how to comfort Souya in ways they didn't and couldn't. This is the power he had and why he had been Souya's secret for two years.

Samu turned back to Baji with a smile while angling his arm to run his fingers through the blue hair of his boyfriend. "I don't fight any specific way, nor am I exactly great at it, but I'm working on my punches right now at the gym I go to. The owner says my kicks and dodging are currently my best weapons so I need my punches to be better. Can't exactly kick and dodge my way out of danger" Samu chucked. Baji snorted and then covered his mouth while Mitsuya swatted the back of his head.

They both knew exactly who Baji was thinking of.

"Oh my god Mik-" And then Nahoya's head got Mitsuya's swat as well. Samu laughed at the scene before yawning and bonking his head against Souya's gently. He was getting tired, though he was enjoying the socializing.

"Mm?" Souya hummed, trying to pretend he hadn't fallen asleep with Samu's hand playing with his hair. Hakkai chuckled at it.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, your boyfriend seems tired and you've fallen asleep" Hakkai huffs out a laugh and they watch as Samu goes to stand only to not be able to escape Souya's grip.

"Well, enjoy being there until he's awake awake" Nahoya chuckles as he stood. "He usually hugs his pillow with an iron grip, you're not escaping" Nahoya ruffled Samu's hair again, grateful to the boy for making Souya feel so happy and safe.

Samu playfully pouts before getting a mischievous smile. That was a new expression for them to see and they all watched intently, wondering just how mischievous this boy could be.

Samu turned his head so his mouth was by Souya's ear and they watched as he suddenly nipped the shell of Souya's ear with his teeth. Souya gasped sharply, jolting away with a completely red face and now fully awake while Samu giggled and escaped Souya's lap. Baji covered his mouth to stifle laughing while Nahoya wheezed.