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yonpote · 4 months

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ok heres how i split up the dnp eras (loosely based on dan's timeline in his interview w anthony)

2009-2011: the Sillies era :3 dan refered to it as being a dumb teen just posting cuz he was bored, which is like, thats what all of youtube culture was at this time. they met and like fell in love or whatever you know the lore dont you. phil moved from his parents home to his first apartment in manchester, and dan technically moved to uni but really he moved into phil's apartment to take advantage of his washing machine and ps1 and. yknow. other stuff. they officially moved in together in 2011 yippee hooray, the phanchester apartment holds a special place in my heart

2012-2013: THE SHIFT. they started getting Serious about youtube as a career, doing more stuff w the radio, superamazingproject started in 2011 but THE SHIFT is very easy to observe when you compare the first season of sap to the last season. ALSO. they were NOT A DOUBLE ACT AND NOT GAY 🙄. it could also be called the No Homo era lmao idk this is when a lot of shitty things were happening wrt leaked information, harassment of their families, and just generally becoming more in the spotlight especially while still in the closet being a horrible experience. but also, they moved to london and got cool opportunities with radio stuff and were starting to actually make a living on this shit.

2014-2016: Peak Dan And Phil™ Era. at the height of their popularity. they realized oh shit, we ARE a double act and not only does everyone enjoy us best as a double act, WE enjoy working together. tabinof, tatinof, dapgo, still doing the radio every month up until they start touring, 7 second challenge app, gamingmas, what the hell DIDNT they do during this time period (what they didnt do was uhh take care of themselves and not overwork and not blur their work and personal lives so much to the point where they felt like the whole apartment was a film set.)

2017-2018: Gay Softlaunch Era (aka post-baking aka glass closet) the baby steps toward authenticity, moved to the double apartment to separate work and life, ii's whole theme, dan talking abt depression, phil getting the quiff, both of them being gay as hell in every way other than saying it explicitly. important things of note: TRUTH BOMBS dropped, Interactive Introverts happened, still uploading gaming vids and honestly by the end you could feel their fatigue. and then they hiatused dapg.

2019-2022: ok these four years each feel like whole eras in themselves, but also theres an overarching theme. THE GAY ERA.

2019: im gonna futher split this year in half. first half- dad left to buy milk so other dad is taking care of us. rough six months for dannies im sure. important phil thing of note- he changed his film set from his "bedroom" to a fairly basic but cute shelf backdrop. honestly prob didnt wanna keep pretending that was his bedroom considering.... second half- DAN AND PHIL GAY. dan uploads his magnum opus. phil comes out via tweet. they go to japan and its really gay and it's The Trip to japan for them like yes they first went in 2015 and again in 2023, but Japhan 2.0 Was The One. what does this mean? proposal? anniversary? idk exactly but it was gay as hell dude and theyve talked about that trip with such love in their hearts.

2020: Phandemic (sorry that was bad) but also where tf is dan again? even with the big C-word happening, it was business as usual for phil, regular vids but make em gayer, caught a pigeon nbd, and end of the year introduces the Stereo app show Phil and Phriends where he's had chats with pj, louise, his brother, seth everman?????, and finally. dan reappears. they reveal that they bought and FULLY PLANNED a house together and are ready to move!

2021: they don't move house for another like six months! basically their house was (and is??) still being worked on AND they were in lockdown AND turns out at the end of last year, they were kicked from their Life apartment and were now living in the Work apartment so you can imagine what all of this can do to their psyche and lowkey they were getting sick of each other like it wasnt just bordering on phivorce it was nearly Phurder. Phidow. but to fill the time so that DOESNT happen, my favorite fucking thing ever happens: Lockdown Lads (and all the other names). the first taste of what a dnp podcast would sound like, with the added bonus of chaotic listener interaction. oh yeah also dan wrote a mental health guide book whatever (IM KIDDING I REALLY LIKE YWGTTN I WROTE LIKE TWO REVIEWS ON IT NOW) and they finally become Homosexual Homeowners. theres quite a bit more dnp content this year, dan being on phils channel a bit more, the phodcasts, dan's gay and not proud special.... oh yeah and hometown showdown i guess AND TEXT VIDEO 2!!! my favorite and my namesake!!!!!!!

2022: Prophecy Year..... but they didnt get married. dan returns with another longass video to say: hey i hate being a youtuber and also youtube majorly fucked me over. but also fuck that im gonna do a weird talk show and ALSO GO ON TOUR WITH THIS APOCALYPSE THEME! phil actually... slows down this year. more dan uploads than phil somehow??? but also Dan Is Leaving me is posted and i go completely insane and become the deranged individual you see today. WHICH FINALLY LEADS US TOOOOOO

2023-present: The Unhinged Era. dan's tour was a huge Emotional success for him but uh not without its hiccups due to management and all that and i think he and phil finally realize. Fuck It Who Cares. dan flies back to england FROM AUSTRALIA to make sure he can be with his future ex-husband on his birthday. CAKE HEART EMOJI. YELLOW PLAID SHACKET. they go on a gamer date and post a picture of playing footsies in a cab. THE PHUDE HAPPENS. they go to japan again and while this one will never be The One it was still a well earned holiday this time with bryony! and they took a bunch of very cute film camera pictures.... THIS IS ALL JUST THE FIRST HALF OF 2023 BTW. in phil news, he talks about going to therapy and figuring out how to manage his anxiety!!!! he changes his hair again!! he hires an editor, phan is his otp, he teases about the gaming channel a couple of times but so many of us already dropped any hope of that returning- OH WAIT WHAT THE FUCK?!!!? HUH!??!? they returned, and more chaotic than ever before. the gayness upped to the max, the Weirdness on full speed, the Horniness at Very Scary Levels Oh God Stop Talking About Dogging, phil can swear uncensored now???? and this energy has continued into today...

#the shift #softlaunch #myrambles #phan

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eoieopda · 2 years

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darksided (myg)

Min Yoongi adored you. He'd simply never hurt you - unless you asked.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: One-Shot - SMUT (You must be 18+ to ride this ride.) Sequel to foresight, but can be read as a stand-alone fic. Word Count: 4.4K Content: established relationship au; soft bf yoongi turned mean!dom!yoongi at the request of sub!reader; p in v penetration; unprotected sex/creampie (be safe, y'all); oral sex (m receiving); brief face-fucking; v fingering; squirting; a lil degradation and spit kink, as a treat; harsh language; after-care; also cavity-inducing fluff A/N: This was nine (9) pages in Word - my longest smut ever, all because this man-bun era has got me FUCKED up. Barely proofread (sorry ily). Check out my other fics here. Listen to the playlist here. 12/11/22 A/N: The sequel, blindsided, is finally here! check it out when you're done here :)

“When I signal you, that’s when you press the button, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared down at his recording equipment – a galaxy in its own right, lit up like a Christmas tree. He may as well have asked you to defuse a bomb, except you couldn’t even identify the bomb. “There are approximately three thousand buttons in front of me right now,” you whined.

He was exhausted and you knew it – you could feel it – but his patience with you was, as always, limitless. His fondness for you still shone through his eyes, overpowering the dark circles looming below, as if he hadn’t made a mistake in inviting you into his office. Then there was his laugh, surprising enough to smack you but so soft that it cradled you. “It’s the only one that says ‘record,’ jagiya.”

A quick survey of the landscape before you indicated that this was a criminal oversimplification. There was a minimum of four options fitting his description, and all of them looked both breakable and expensive. You blinked down at the sound board, then back up at him, dumbfounded. “I think you made a mistake letting me in here.”

Again, with the laugh – knocking you prone, nudging you closer to an early grave. Somehow, out of all of time and space, you got to exist in the same lifetime that he did. How lucky you were to have him, and his wind chime laugh all to yourself.

You were lovesick and it was chronic.

“Look down at your left hand – no, baby, don’t move it – that knob above your middle finger?” He was standing on tiptoe inside the booth, gesturing as if he was landing a plane. Your eyes darted up to follow the path of his fingers, then back down to the board. “Go diagonally up from that knob for two rows. Do you -”

Overcome with a sense of unearned pride, you pressed down on the button, beaming. You certainly had not been signaled, but nonetheless, your efforts were rewarded. Importantly, that reward was now recorded for prosperity. Your favorite mixtape, the soundtrack of your racing heart, a lullaby: “I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.”

His wide smile, like his tone, was sweet enough to cause a cavity. You were folded up like a pretzel in his chair, but somehow, your knees still seemed to wobble.

You were lovesick and it was terminal.

“Should I shut it off now until you’re ready to start?” You asked with cheeks glowing pink.

He shook his head, still grinning. “I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though – when I signal you.” He stated the last bit of his sentence slowly, shooting you a pointed look and then a wink.

You were once lovesick and now you are dead.

Finger hovering over the ‘play’ button, you watched him wide-eyed, anxious to avoid another mishap. His faith in you may have been unshakeable, but yours wasn’t – and this third mixtape was his magnum opus. You’d rather explode into a cloud of dust than mess up the tireless work he’d put into it so far.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, centering himself. Without looking, he raised his hand and pointed silently to you. Within seconds, your mind was blown.

Min Yoongi contained multitudes. Despite your years together, it never ceased to amaze you how your beloved introvert – who said more with actions than anyone could communicate with words – could transform the way he did. Moments ago, his voice was a blanket, fresh out of the dryer, but now? Now, his presence electrified you. There was an unapologetic confidence – callousness, even - that you only saw when he rapped.

Even his body language changed, like he’d evolved right before your eyes. You couldn’t look away because there was nothing else worth looking at – just him, top to bottom. The way he held his head, lips nearly touching the microphone, highlighted the deadly curve of his jaw. Carved from marble, luminescent and sharp. The strain of his neck, vibration visible in the column of his throat as he growled out his bars. Then down, down, down to his hands. His rings caught the light from above him, refracting slivers of white as his fingers moved with the beat.

Oh, how you wanted them wrapped around your throat.

Seeing him like this had you spellbound – feral, if you were being honest. As you watched, bottom lip clamped hard between your teeth, a heatwave crashed over you; it burned you from the inside out. Sometimes, you dreamt about this version of him. Your Yoongi adored you. He showered you with affection, respect, and praise. He’d never dream of hurting you.

But would he, if you asked?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear him finish the take.

“Aegiya?” There was a hint of concern in his voice that told you he’d called out to you more than once already.

You swallowed hard and shifted in his chair. “Yes?”

He slid his wireless headphones down until they rested around his neck. The bright red band leaned against his cheekbone as he tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Are you alright? You looked like you were in a trance.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were hypnotized, and it was entirely his fault.

When you merely hummed in response – too distracted by his features to form a coherent sentence – he opened the door to the booth and stepped out. He pulled the headphones off completely and set them down on the counter before walking straight to you.

You were vibrating. Could he feel it?

The trembling only intensified when he reached you. Looking down at you, he ran the pad of his thumb over your cheek.

“Tell me.” He said, as if that brief touch informed him of the maelstrom spinning circles in your brain. “Something’s got you dizzy.”

Psychic.

Suddenly, you were shy. This man knew and loved every single aspect of you, and still you felt embarrassed. If you begged him to fuck you – not just make love to you – would he laugh at you? Even worse, would he be offended? You didn’t want him to think that what you had wasn’t already perfect because it was.

His eyes scanned your face, narrowing just slightly as he tried to read your mind. The two of you were silent for what felt like hours before you saw it – his pupils dilating, offset by the spark of silent understanding. The corner of his mouth twitched when he cracked the secret code. The hand caressing your cheek lowered slowly until it came to rest on your throat, thumb harshly directing your jaw – and your gaze - upwards.

“Is it me, baby?” He teased with a voice like velvet, cocking his head to the side with a smirk that left you stupid. “Have I got you dizzy?”

Involuntarily, you whimpered. So stunned by his stare that you were speechless. Melting into a puddle. Dripping.

He exhaled sharply through his nose – a cruel, quiet laugh - and his eyes darkened further. “I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Once again, you shifted in your seat. You were suddenly so painfully aware of every nerve in your body, each one tingling like a live wire. Even your thighs clenched, trying desperately to apply pressure where you needed it most. You craved him so badly that it ached.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me,” was your answer, though it sounded more like a question. “I - I know that you -”

His hand shifted quickly from underneath your jaw. He now had your cheeks pinned between his thumb and middle finger, squeezing hard to cut off your sentence before you could finish it. There was a microscopic pause as his eyes searched yours for permission. You blinked and nodded to the fullest extent you could within his grasp.

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

Muffled by his hand, your weak moan was barely audible, but he could feel the way your breathing quickened. The rise and fall of your eager chest. The way your nipples, yet untouched, made themselves known through the fabric of the t-shirt you’d stolen from him. Draped in him but smelling like you.

Blackcurrant, orange blossoms, vanilla.

He leaned down, mouth now hovering beside your ear. The heat of his breath on your neck was maddening, but it was the way his lips brushed against your ear that proved fatal. When he spoke, it echoed in every one of your bones. A whisper heavy enough to bruise. “Get up.”

You followed the lead of his hand over your mouth and rose to your feet. Sharply, he redirected your gaze to the seat you’d just left. It was inexplicable how something so faint could be so blatant. That nearly imperceptible spot, snitching on you; showing him how your body begged for him.

“Such a messy girl, ruining my chair like that.” He tutted. “I should punish you, shouldn’t I? Should I ruin you, baby?”

Held so still, your knees still trembled. Without his hand gripping your cheeks, you would’ve crumpled at his feet. Before you could do so yourself, he forced you downward. After all, your knees couldn’t buckle if they were digging into the hardwood.

He released his grasp and used that same hand to push his hair away from his eyes. Your heart raced as if you were sprinting, and yet you were frozen in place. You didn’t know where to begin because you wanted everything.

Your indecision prompted him to roll his eyes. “Do I have to do everything for you? Say it. What do you want?”

“T-to touch you. Please,” you begged, “I want to feel you in my throat.”

He beckoned you silently with a curl of his finger. You sat up further on your knees and reached out tentatively for the drawstring tied at the waistband of his joggers.

“Stop.” He ordered, and you did. Looking down at your wide eyes, his smirk deepened. Your hands fidgeted uselessly in your lap as he began untying the drawstring himself – his slow pace was torturous. You'd have ripped them off his body if given the chance. “Open your mouth”

Again, you did as you were told.

It took everything you had not to drool when he lowered the waistband of his joggers just enough for his cock to spring out. Already throbbing, beige tip glistening with pre-cum in the half-light. He took himself in his hand and began to pump himself as he took a step towards your waiting mouth.

"Stick out your tongue."

Now, you couldn’t help it – and when he saw the string of saliva spilling from the tip of your tongue, he growled.

“Fuck,” He breathed, sliding the fingers of his free hand into your hair and tugging. “Look at how badly you want to be used - you're begging without saying a word.”

You couldn’t speak, but your eyes were screaming at him. Please.

Teasingly, he tapped the tip of his cock against your tongue, hissing as he felt the wet heat of your mouth. But when you went to close your lips around him, he pulled your hair – and you – away.

“Spit on it – slowly. Keep your eyes on me.”

You felt a twinge between your thighs as he delivered his orders. You’d undoubtedly soaked through your little sleep shorts already, but his tone just then made a mess of you. You squirmed as you kneeled, feeling the rivulets of slick begin to trail down the innermost part of your thighs. And he hadn’t even touched you yet.

Looking up at him from under the curtain of your lashes, you saw the wicked fascination flicker in his eyes. The way his breath hitched as he watched your spit fall from the ledge of your lips until it connected with his shaft. In your peripheral vision, you could see his cock twitch at the contact.

“Now open.” Finally.

A low moan broke from the depths of his chest as he slid into your mouth, and you couldn’t recall a more beautiful sound. As you pushed yourself further onto him, you hallowed your cheeks, following the vein running along the underside of his length with your tongue.

You stared up at him through wet eyes. So full, you pleaded with yourself not to gag, to breathe steadily through your nose. Tip pushing past your soft palate, he grunted as he bottomed out. Without softening his gaze, he watched for your reaction – always so concerned, even when he was pretending not to be. To his surprise, you swallowed, allowing the tightness of your throat to squeeze him.

“You’re fucking filthy.” He muttered with his eyes screwing shut. His jaw fell open when you slid off him, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock once you reached it. His eyes followed suit, blown out pupils fixated on the spit dribbling down your chin; darkening at the obscene sound of him sliding through the suction you'd so masterfully generated.

Pulling your hand from your lap, you reached out slowly for his balls. As your fingers massaged him, his grip on your hair got tighter. Almost imperceptibly, he began to roll his hips against your mouth.

His panting was interlaced with curses as he fucked himself into your warmth. “Fit so fucking perfectly in your throat,” He grunted, “Like you were made to be my toy.”

It startled you when he suddenly removed himself from you. Thoughtlessly, you whined – and then, immediately, you froze. Eyes darting back up to him, the anticipation of consequences prevented you from closing your mouth fully. You waited there on your knees, trembling, while your mascara pooled uselessly in the wells beneath your eyes.

“Somebody feels entitled,” He scoffed as he glowered down at you. “You better be careful what you wish for.”

Before you could process the speed of his movements, his arms hooked under yours and pulled you from the ground. Your legs ached, but as he loomed over you, you followed his unspoken order, backing yourself into a corner. With your shoulder blades pressed flush against the wall, he stepped forward and used his knee to push your legs apart.

For a moment, it seemed like his façade was cast aside. He raised his hand slowly to caress your cheek, swirling soft circles into your flushed skin with his thumb. Out of habit, your eyes drifted shut and you leaned further into his touch. And when he leaned in, just as slowly, your slightly parted lips waited for a kiss that never came.

“You’re just begging to be filled, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper so sharp it stung. “Not loved but fucked.”

You nodded shyly. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, “Please.”

His lips still lingered closely enough to touch yours, to send shockwaves shooting down your spine, but he continued to withhold his affection. This was the first time – ever – that Yoongi had turned down an opportunity to kiss you. Until now, he didn't seem capable of doing so.

“Please what?”

“Fuck me. Please -” You keened as his hand began to drift from your cheek, down your neck. In the blink of an eye, every word you knew disappeared from your vocabulary. The tip of his index finger trailed down over the fabric of your stolen shirt, between the valley of your breasts, and came to rest at the hem.

He pinched the seam between his fingers and tugged. “Part of me wants to tear this off you,” He mused with his head tilting to one side. His eyes remained locked on yours; the amusement in them was clear, even in the darkness. “But most of me wants to see you fucked out and stupid - in my shirt.”

Your legs threatened to give out yet again. He was devastatingly handsome under normal circumstances, but this newly unearthed cockiness was ruinous. You bit down hard on your lip as he raised your shirt enough to access the waistband of your shorts. With his help, you shimmied them down until they dropped quietly at your feet. Quickly and clumsily, you stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

Yoongi’s hand rose again to your face. His middle and ring finger were extended; the others curled down towards his palm. You didn’t need to be asked to open your mouth – it was the only response your eager mind could conjure. His fingers were cool against your tongue as you closed your mouth around them. And when he was satisfied with the lubrication you’d provided, he slid his fingers out from your hollowed cheeks with a lewd pop.

“How badly do you want to come all over my fingers?”

It’s a wonder there wasn’t a puddle beneath you, considering how those words made you gush. “I need it,” You pleaded with fluttering eyelids and bated breath, “Please touch me.”

You whimpered and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers dive into the pool between your thighs. Every nerve lit up like a switchboard as he slipped through your soft folds. He scoffed at how wet you were – so soaked that it was audible in each millimeter of his movement.

Simultaneous to his middle finger penetrating you, your head rolled back until it rested against the wall. Your mouth fell open, but you were too entranced to do much more than breathe as you acclimated to his presence inside you. He started slowly, curling his finger upwards as he pushed further inwards. Even at this pace, the otherwise dead air was filled with the sound of your sodden cunt.

“You’re dripping already?" He let the tip of his finger rest against the spongy spot behind your pubic bone; the pressure was incredible, but he stayed torturously still. “And yet you’re so - tight.” Achingly slow, the pad of his finger spiraled against your g-spot. “I’ll have to stretch you out before I can bury my cock in you.”

As his ring finger plunged inside of you, you cried out, head slumping forward against his shoulder. Sensing that you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up for much longer, Yoongi grabbed the back of your right thigh with his left hand and pulled your leg up to rest against his hip. With this new angle, his fingers ventured even deeper until they bottomed out at the knuckle. He didn’t give you much time to adjust to the new sensation.

As he fucked his fingers into you at a feverish pace, he continued his mind-numbing assault on your g-spot. Over and over, he toyed with you; thrusting, stretching, scissoring, and teasing as your arousal trickled into the palm of his hand. There was an intoxicating – unbearable – warmth burning in the pit of your abdomen. A sensation so all-consuming that your eyes rolled back in your head.

Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in and begging for more as your helpless heart raced. “Oh my god,” You wailed, “Holy shit – Please, I’m - Yoongi!”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Never in your life had you fallen apart like that – shaking and speaking in tongues. Having sensed the swell of pressure, Yoongi knew exactly where this road headed; and he could tell that you were fighting it. “Don't hold back from me,” He growled.

And then the dam broke.

A wicked grin danced across his face as the wave of pleasure crashed onto the floor below you. “Fuck. Look at this.” He pointed downward and your bleary gaze followed. Remnants of your orgasm had splashed onto his joggers as well as the hardwood. “Nobody could ever make you come like I can. Say it.”

The words bubbled out of your chest, half-way between a sob and a moan. “Nobody can make me come like you.”

You were a shivering, spilling mess; and your ears were still ringing from how intensely your every muscle had clenched. Before your knee could buckle, you were abruptly swept up into his arms. With one arm wrapped tightly around your back, his free hand slid over the surface of his desk, sending various papers and cords rocketing towards the floor.

Once the space was cleared, he set you down and laid you out onto the cool surface. You were exhausted and thankful to be horizontal; though you knew he wasn’t yet finished with you.

After all, he intended on ruining you.

Through half-lidded eyes, you gazed up at him. The hair he’d so neatly tied into a bun at the top of his head had mutinied; inky tendrils were now splayed out haphazardly in different directions. You were fuck-drunk, but you swore the overhead light behind him encircled his head like a halo. It was all so unholy - the way he stood before the altar of your exposed core, with his face angelic and his throbbing cock in hand.

The hand not pumping his cock slid over your bent knee. It took tremendous effort, but you lifted your arm to place your hand on top of his. One tiny squeeze – a brief, loving check-in – received an echo. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the fleeting moment of tenderness was gone. With each of your legs now trapped in his hold, he pulled you towards the very edge of the table.

Once he was satisfied with your closeness, his focus switched to his access. He simply wasn’t content to leave your legs bent up at either side of him; so, he rested the backs of your legs against his shoulders and leaned forward until you’d nearly folded in half.

He didn’t need to use his hand to center himself prior to entering you. His body understood the proportions of yours automatically; like you were puzzle pieces created to fit perfectly together. Though his intention may have been to penetrate you slowly, centimeter by centimeter, your slick was overwhelming. The usual ache you felt upon acclimating to his size was drastically reduced; and he bottomed out quickly, cursing.

The fullness you felt was euphoric, and it left you mewling hopelessly under the weight of his body. He was buried deep, throbbing as your walls constricted around his width. It shocked your system when he slid out almost completely only to drive himself back into you.

“Like a fucking vice grip,” Yoongi hissed as he picked up his already brutal pace. Every curve, every vein dragged maddeningly along your walls as he fucked you. “Do you hear how wet you are? Shit – your pussy is begging for me.”

The only thing louder than the squelch of your cunt was skin hitting skin; close behind was the way your name spilled from his lips in a flurry of expletives. You, on the other hand, were nearly incoherent. With every thrust, he knocked another thought loose until eventually, you had nothing left. Relentlessly, his cock grinded against your g-spot, leaving you too mesmerized to recall your own name.

There was a sheen of sweat above his knitted brows; and his bottom lip was now trapped between his gritted teeth. He was close and you knew it. The depth of his thrusts didn’t falter, but his steady pace was getting harder for him to maintain. You felt the rubber band inside you beginning to fray - on the brink of snapping and shooting you into orbit like a sling-shot.

“Baby,” The soft, shaky voice caught his attention. He opened his eyes and focused hard on you – your flushed cheeks, and trembling lips. As he surveyed you, his resolve began to evaporate; his expression softened immediately. There he was: your Yoongi. “You’re gonna make me come again.”

As your walls clenched tight around him, the edges of your vision began to blur. You watched his face as he came shortly after you, studying how delicately his eyelashes fluttered as the warmth of his release filled you. In that moment, it was the two of you, toppling in slow-motion off the edge of the universe. Irrevocably in love - heaving chests, shuddered moans, names whispered in the place of prayers.

He shifted his arms to allow your quivering legs to fall from his shoulders. When the hands on either side of your head could no longer hold up his weight, he collapsed onto you. With his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, you could feel his breathing begin to slow as his cock softened inside you.

You were nearly delirious when you felt his lips buzz against your skin. You were too far gone to understand what he was too exhausted to communicate. “Hmm?” You hummed, wordlessly asking him to repeat himself.

He groaned with the effort of pulling himself away from your embrace. He only traveled far enough to glance over at you. “I said, I think several of my past lives just flashed before my eyes,” He stated matter-of-factly. Within seconds, his eyes crinkled up at the corners and his grin grew. That soft chuckle wasn’t far behind.

“I don’t know where I am.” You admitted with a sheepish laugh. After a moment, you amended that thought, “I don’t know who I am.”

Yoongi placed a gentle kiss below your ear – the only part of you he could reach without sitting up fully. “I have no idea. How did you get in my house?” As you rolled your eyes, he bumped the tip of his nose against your jaw, too tired to tease you much more than that. “But now that we’re both completely spent, I’d like to go back to being soft with you – for now.”

He tried to wink at you, but both of his lead-lined lids closed in unison. You hummed thoughtfully as you ran lazy fingers through his hair, like the decision required serious deliberation. You paused, then giggled. “Permission granted, my love. You may proceed.”

He was quiet for several moments before he stood bolt upright. Startled, you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked to him. He turned towards the booth and then back to you.

His eyes were wide as a blush swept over his cheeks. "Aegiya, did you forget to stop the recording?"

Sequel (posted 12/11/22).

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

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thank you all for your well wishes and love, I really appreciate it. I didn’t exactly plan to go on hiatus or leave. Honestly, I was just fine, nothing major even happening in life (at least I thought so) but I ended up having an unexpected mental break of sorts. School and work has always been manageable but work has began its busiest season and this last class was a little trying so I’m guessing it became too much. I started isolating from everyone and hadn’t been very social lately. Not to mention, I’m preparing to have surgery in a few months. Truthfully though, I think I just became exhausted with this app and its nonsense..or the clock app I should say. Like I said, I’ve been working on being less combative and confrontational on here bc it’s not who I am and as I stated in my post a couple months ago, if I have to be in defense mode, I don’t want to be here. Although I’ve gotten no anon hate recently, I can see posts. I can see anons being sent by proxy of my friends and I can see screenshots of my name being mentioned in comments on apps I don’t even use. I’ve always been very passionate about my writing and I try my best to pour as much of myself into it as I can. I know people say ‘passion project’ or ‘magnum opus’ but that’s what I strive for with each of my works. I never wanna give bare minimum, hence why I deny certain anons or don’t write certain tropes if they don’t align with that purpose.

Again, I’m perfect by no means and my fics are not for everyone. However, having these straw man fics about baby mamas and drug dealers attached to me is infuriating (not bc I have an issue with them, but bc it shows some of you don’t truly read my work) With that being said, I’ve got the next two weeks off from school and I’ve been working on some stuff I’m really excited to share. My only request is that y’all start spreading more love to ur writers..show ppl that you love their works. The energy that you use to critique and throw hate, use it to be reblog and show appreciation. I’ve seen so many great writers leave this app and I hate to join them, but I’m just not going to burn myself out for mediocre feedback and diet lite racist commentary. I have Google Docs and my drafts, I’m good. Be blessed everyone <3

#cherry chats 🍒#anyways hope everybody has been doing okay #love you all so much #thank you for checking on me #mini Thursday morning rant #can’t wait to be back posting

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offside-the-lines · 4 months

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tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs. They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends. Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

🎵 Series Playlist 🎶

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Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

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godidontevenknowwhat · 4 months

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Lessons of life

Tonowari x Metkayina!Reader (Sequel to Missed Lessons)

A/N: Listen I know I said Missed Lessons was my Magnum Opus but I'm starting to think that writing for Tonowari in general might be my Magnum Opus, also if you saw me accidentally post this unfinished then no you didn't. Also not that anyone asked but Obstacles by Syd Matters and Look at you by Screaming Trees are Tonowari and Reader's songs in my head. Also also the smut is very little of this fic so if you're here for smut without plot this is not for you. And in case you haven't noticed my fics are never beta read so just act like any mistakes aren't there.

Synopsis: 35 cycles, almost 36, of being Tonowari's closest friend was enough to ensure a familiarity with everything in his life. The walls of his Marui, weaved by hand by his grandfather's father contained intricate patterns that you could trace in the sand from memory. The permanent markings covering his body, each with a story you knew from start to finish although it was rare the story didn't involve you in some capacity. The way people looked at him since becoming Olo'eyktan. Before your heat came, before Tonowari laid you in the sand and made you his.. you never would have believed that familiarity would ever fade. The walls of his Marui are now the walls of yours as well, the pattern's swirls seemingly different to how they were in your childhood. His newest marking, familiar? Yes, a marking to show your mating with a matching one adorning your own body but still, it looked out of place in its freshness amongst the faded and settled ones you had seen for many cycles. The way people looked at him, at Tonowari, your Tonowari.. they now looked at you the same way. His mate, the woman carrying his child.

Fic includes: NSFW so MDNI, pregnancy, mentions of childbirth (mostly talk of pushing, contractions etc and then mentions of the baby coming into the world but nothing graphic), pregnant sex, fingering, squirting because I can't write smut without it, p in v, reader on top because she is quite far along, themes of insecurity from Tonowari and Reader (Tonowari's insecurity of being leader that I totally made up and Reader's insecurity of her relationship with Tonowari), hints of a strained relationship between Ao'nung and Reader, hints of Jake and Reader being besties because it felt right in my heart, a little surprise at the end 🤭, 3.6k overall

Tagging: @torukmaktoskxawng @itchaboi-itchyboy @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @eywaite @neteyamsyawntu @shadowmoonlight0604 @name-saken @anxious7sami @oakbuggy

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Sweat beads on your forehead and covers your body in a thin sheen. The morning sun beats down on you and despite your position in the cool rippling water you are burning from exertion.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Every noise around you seems muffled, as if you have your hands over your ears to block them out. You don’t hear the Tsahik finishing her blessings from Eywa, you don’t hear the encouraging words of your clan from the water’s edge or the rumbling echoes of clicks and bellows from the Tulkun in the deep water. Even your own cries are dampened in your ears as your blood pounds.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Hands land on your shoulders and you jolt out of the daze of your own mind. Your eyes lift from where they were focussed on the lapping waves against your round belly. Meeting Tonowari's eyes you can’t hold back the sob that rips from your throat, the pain was unlike any you had ever experienced. It was a consuming pain, running through every nerve of your body. You try to distract yourself with the way the morning sun hits his eyes, their beautiful blue hue sparkling with specks of turquoise and deep cerulean.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Tonowari moves his hands to your face, cupping your tear-dampened cheeks in the palms of his large hands. You see his lips moving as he asks you about making the bond with him and despite the pain running through you, you shake your head at the suggestion not wanting your mate to be forced to experience the same pain you are. A conscious part of your brain, not consumed by the pain, is overly aware of the eyes on you both and it aches at the thought of making your mate experience pain so openly in front of the clan.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

Keeping a hold of your face, Tonowari reaches for his kuru and presents it to you, accepting your choice but giving you the option to change your mind if you need to. You stare into the eyes of your mate, his action washing away any negative thoughts your nagging insecurity might have washed to the front of your brain and you nod numbly, accepting his offer.

Tonowari presses his forehead to your own as he connects your kuru with his, the little pink swirling tendrils tying together and connecting you both through mind, body and soul. Eyes clenching shut he embraces your pain as if it's his own, sharing the pain of bringing your beautiful baby into the world.

Images pass behind your eyes in a way that you imagine is similar to what Tsyeyk Suli had called a ‘moo-vee’ one day while discussing his life before his consciousness transfer through Eywa. Memories and feelings so deeply embedded that they can only be brought forward through such a profound connection. Tonowari’s eyes water, whether from your pain now being shared with him or from the onslaught of memories detailing your life together through every twist and turn, you can’t be sure.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

🌿

“Tonowari”

He remembers the low baritone of his father’s voice vibrating in his ears which lowered in shame at his tone. He’d been caught daydreaming instead of paying attention to his father's words once again. Words of his future, how his father was aging and Tonowari would soon have to lead the clan.

Pressure, pressure was what it was. A pressure filled promise of a future set in stone that he would never be able to shake, even if it’s all that his adolescent brain wanted.

A deep sigh made him turn to his father, the look on his face making his stomach turn, a look of disappointment that he would one day be just as masterful at dealing out to his own children albeit not without a simmer of shame.

“You may go, your little friend is waiting for you”

Ears shooting up with surprise, his wide eyes looked at his father. He didn’t understand the position he was in back then, not like he does now. If he could go back he always said he would take it easier on his dad, let up on him a bit for being so uptight.

He remembers running from his Marui, running to you where you were waiting for him in the afternoon sun. Your hair was loose that day, unbraided and unstyled with a rogueness that was uniquely yours. You smiled at him, bright and beautiful as you told him about a place you wanted to take him.

An outcrop, one you had to swim to from the other side of the island where Awa’latlu rested. A place that would hold significance in your lives throughout cycles and cycles. The place where you would create new life to add to yours.

🌿

“Skxawng!”

You remember the offended look that Tonowari shoots at you, your hands weaving a delicate shining shell into his songcord with practiced perfection.

The dark ink of his newest permanent marking is shocking against his skin, covered in a layer of healing salve from the Tsahik.

He was banned from the water, not allowed to get the marking wet or soak it for the next few days so he’s stuck making up his excess time by attending duties with you, annoying you through your daily tasks.

You didn’t realise at the time that Tonowari was happier by your side, watching you work on various duties, than he was in the water with the weight of being the Eykyu (Leader) of the tarpongu (hunting party).

You didn’t realise at the time that Tonowari was a different person with you.

🌿

“Tonowari”

He remembers the shake in your voice, the quiver of your bottom lip as you stared up at him and the tears gathering on your lash line that threatened to spill over.

You were standing off to the side of him and his group of friends who were sitting around a fire. They were talking about something stupid, laughing and smiling. He was relaxed, as much as he could be while knowing he was about to become the Olo’eyktan.

These friends would soon grow to look at him differently, look at him as their leader and not the boy they grew up with but you.. you never looked at him as anything other than himself.

Laughter roused from the group as Tonowari practically sprinted to your side to check on you. He can’t recall why you were crying, why you needed him but he remembers the panic that spread through him when he saw your tears finally spill over and dampen your cheeks.

He didn’t realise at the time that your tears finally spilled not from what had actually gotten you so worked up but from the guilt of pulling him away from his other friends, from making them laugh at him because of you.

🌿

“Skxawng”

You remember calling Tonowari that as he shifted once more from the feeling of your hands on his body. At the time you were annoyed. Your hands were aching from grinding up iridescent shells to make the unique paint in front of you and no part of your mind would have thought that your best friend of 21 cycles was being so inconsiderately mobile because the feeling of your hands on his body was meaningful to him in any other way than just painting him for his ceremony.

The swirls you painted were purposefully reminiscent of the weaving swirls throughout his Marui, a place you had spent a majority of your childhood together in, and the paint you had made for this momentous occasion was dazzling. Fit for the Olo’eyktan to be that was sitting before you.

Fit for your best friend.

🌿

“Tonowari!”

He remembers the cheers of excitement from the clan around him, a grin spreading across his own face to match the ones he could see in the crowd as the Tsahik announced him the new Olo’eyktan in the presence and blessing of the Great Mother.

The weight of the ceremonial cape on his shoulders was a fitting physical representation of the metaphorical weight he had worn for cycles before becoming clan leader and that he would continue to wear cycles on from now.

He remembers pressing his forehead to the Tsahik’s in a respectful display before doing the same with his father, who for the first time in his lifetime seemed to be just that. Not Olo’eyktan now, not a leader or a role model but his father.

He turned to face the crowd, eyes meeting yours from a distance and he allowed himself to look at you, really looking at you.

He remembers a shock going through him at how beautiful you were, light shining on you as if Eywa herself had parted the clouds to let it highlight you amongst the rest of the clan.

He wondered at the time when you’d become so beautiful, when he’d become immune to noticing it. Wondered when your hair had grown from the choppy little cut you ran around with as a teenager to the carefully braided and styled way you were now wearing it. Wondered when you had grown into your body, when you’d developed into a woman with enticing softness and eye catching curves.

He was whisked away before he could speak to you, taken to the side by his mother and father. Shown off to the parents of the Tsakarem, Ronal, someone who he'd always known as Tonowari but was now having to get to know all over again as Olo’eyktan.

🌿

“Thank the Great Mother he doesn’t look like you, Skxawng..”

You remember the embarrassing shake of your voice as you held Ao’nung in your arms, Tonowari’s first born, so small and sweet. Looking so much like his mother Ronal. You wondered in that moment if he’d grow up to possess the same fierceness as his mother, the same bite in his words and bone chilling scowl that she shot at those who angered her.

You didn’t realise at the time looking down at his small, content face that he'd one day turn his mother's fierceness towards you. Throwing out sharp words just to hurt you, questioning you and accusing you of trying to replace his mother when he found out about the life you and his father had created.

🌿

“Tonowari”

He remembers the whisper of your voice behind him as he looked over the Suli family from the Omatikaya. The way your eyes met his own sent a shiver down his spine. It had been cycles at that point since you had called him by his name, a friendship once as strong as the waves of the ocean beyond the reef now settled like gentle ripples.

Your eyes sent him back to his childhood, to a time where you could speak without saying anything, to a time where he was closest to you.

He didn’t realise at that moment how much he really loved you, how much he had loved you his whole life. How the love he had for you was strong enough to cripple him, make him drop to his knees in front of the clan and scream it until his voice was rendered hoarse.

He remembers your eyes flicking to Tsyeyk and how he looked at you, pleading. Your eyes took in the children surrounding Neytiri and Tsyeyk, full of warmth and kindness you had gained over many cycles before they shot to his own once again. Without words he knew what you were saying to him and he agreed.

Despite facing away from you to address the clan he could hear the grin in your voice as you spoke to the Suli family and it took the strength of a leader that he had become more used to possessing to hide his own grin at the sound.

🌿

“Ma’Yawntu”

He remembers calling you that for the first time not even a full cycle ago. His hands were on your shoulders as he begged you to look at him and calm down.

You had both returned from your outcrop, your mixed scents and day long disappearance a dead giveaway to what had taken place.

The Tsahik had approached you both to confirm that you had mated before Eywa and before you had time to truly grasp what this all meant there was an announcement to the Metkayina of their Olo’eyktan taking a new mate. Your mind had finally cleared from your heat only to be bombarded by the reaction of your clan.

He remembers you nodding through the words of the clan, accepting offers from the finest performers of Tā moko (permanent marking/tattooing) to design your Moko Kauae (tattoo on lips and chin of women) to represent your new status amongst the Metkayina. Remembers the Tsahik announcing that there would be a handfasting ceremony in the village wharenui (village meeting hall).

He remembers your breathing starting to pick up, your eyes shifting amongst the many smiling faces before you as you excused yourself and practically ran to your Marui. Practically ran from him.

He approached you a while later, only delayed by having to speak with the Tsahik, finding your curled up form shaking on your bed roll. He remembers gripping onto you and begging you to listen to him.

He remembers the look of relief that flashed across your face as he called you his love and he vowed in that moment, privately and to himself, that he’d never let you go for another moment without knowing well and true how much he loved you.

🌿

“Ma’Tonowari”

You remember the first time it slipped it, the first time you called him yours in front of someone else.

Your hand was clenched around his own large, rough hand and looking back you’re surprised at the lack of reaction he had to your bone-breaking grip.

You’d received Tā moko before, different permanent markings covering your body in different positions and locations but your Moko Kauae was giving you more trouble than you had hoped. The Tsahik had warned you before-hand that your pregnancy might make your body more sensitive to stimulation, painful or pleasurable.

You had no time to be embarrassed, no time to overthink about what the others in the Tā moko whare (Permanent Marking/Tattoo building) may think of your exclamation because, before any of that could happen, Tonowari pressed a kiss against the back of the hand that was squeezing the life out of his own. Grounding you instantly and keeping your brain with him rather than with anyone else.

His eyes trailed the marking being placed onto your skin, a matching Tā moko throbbing on his chest directly above his heart to show his dedication and love for you that he’d experienced for years, finally immortalised on his body.

🌿

“Ma’Tsmuke!”

He remembers the squeal of excitement in your voice as you did your best to make your way to the water quickly, your heavy stomach making your pace more underwhelming than it was in your head.

You’d joined him on a Tsurak as he guided you both to where the Metkayina’s spirit brother’s and sister's were gathered.

He remembers speaking with his Tulkun, his brother. Telling him the tale of your mating and the baby in your belly that was his for you to bear. Remembers watching you swim with your sister, the water taking your weight and making your movements smoother once more.

You had waved him over, presented him in front of your spirit sister in a way that made him flush. He had attributed your gushing words about his strength and how much you loved him to your pregnancy making you more emotional than usual.

He didn’t know at the time that your spirit sister was the only one you felt truly comfortable expressing your pure emotions to other than him. Didn’t know that through the polite smiles and nods at the members of the Metkayina that congratulated you both was a crippling insecurity that used its ugly voice to drag you down.

🌿

“Ma’Yawntu..”

You remember the tired edge to his voice as he entered your Marui for the night. The puffiness of the bags under his eyes almost brought tears to your own as he sat beside you on your shared bed roll.

The day had been long, the tarpongu (hunting party) returning almost empty-handed due to an unexpected Akula in the hunting area and Tonowari blamed himself for every lost fish from the catch and every injury that dotted the bodies of the hunters.

Your own day had been strenuous but nothing could compare to the strength of Tonowari’s ability to blame himself for clan matters.

You remember offering him your kuru, silently telling him you wanted to share his worries and pain while sharing your love and reassurance.

You didn’t realise at that moment Tonowari was convinced you were the most incredibly beautiful thing he had ever seen. Hand outstretched presenting your kuru to him like a gift, large concerned eyes gazing at him with a sea full of love swimming inside them and belly swollen with his child.

🌿

“M-Ma’Wari..”

He remembers the desperate whimper trembling from your lips as he rolled your overly sensitive clit between his fingers, bullying another orgasm out of you that made your eyes roll back in your head and your legs shake.

It had started when you had complained about your appearance, something stupid about the swell of your pregnant stomach and full breasts that Tonowari had taken personal offense to.

Two of his thick fingers collect the slick drooling from your puffy cunt and teasingly circle your entrance before sinking inside you deep enough to brush against your g-spot on their first thrust.

He remembers your hands desperately searching for something to grip on to, one settling in his hair where it gripped hard enough to sting his scalp and the other clenching your bed roll into a fist. His lips trailed from your sweat slick neck, heavily marked by his nips and sucks to your full breasts, latching you your tender nipple and twirling his tongue around it in a practiced motion that made your voice weak every time.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as you begged for a break before you released a heavy squirt, your orgasm dragged out by his insistent press against your clit.

He had given you room to breathe while he admired the wet spot you left on the bed roll because of him, your swollen cunt twitching with overstimulation and your body trembling from his actions.

Your pregnancy had subdued you slightly, made you a little more pliable and submissive just like the heat that got you pregnant in the first place had but it didn’t subdue you enough to stop you from sending Tonowari back with a shove until his back met the bed roll.

“Skxawng”

You both remembered the roll of his eyes, the smiles on your faces as you sank down on him, holding yourself up with whatever effort you could muster as you took his cock. The stretch was still a pleasurable burn despite the amount of times he had split you open on him during your pregnancy.

Tonowari stared up at you like you were Eywa herself above him, the evening sun lighting you from behind and creating a beautiful image, one he’d remember forever.

“N-nga yawne lu oer”

You had beaten him to saying it again.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Contraction. Deep breath. Hold. Push.

A relieved sob rips out of your throat at your final push and you very nearly collapse into the arms of your mate who stands before you, eyes no longer focussing solely on you but also on the beautiful baby that your body had made for you both.

One of his large hands stays supporting you at the waist while the other reaches into the water, helping the sweet little life reach the surface for their first breath. Tears of happiness form in his eyes at the sight of his beautiful baby taking their first big gulp of air.

The Tsahik works quickly to remove the shawl placed around you from your shoulders, a shawl that all of the members of the clan had a form of contribution to, whether through harvesting materials or weaving. Wrapping the baby into the shawl, a metaphorical hug from the clan embracing them as your own arms embrace them in the loving hold of their mother.

Meeting Tonowari's eyes you pass him your precious baby, the life you made together and you can’t hold back your grin at the way his arms make the baby look even smaller than they feel in your own.

Looking to the edge of the water, your clan surrounds you and for the first time since mating with Tonowari you don’t question your position.

Eyes meeting Ao’nung’s you can see the apology and pride for you in his own before he can even consider saying anything out loud. You send him a relaxed smile in understanding, the exchange going unnoticed by everyone except the two of you.

“Have you prepared a name to announce to the clan?”

The Tsahik’s words send your brain on the search once more and when your eyes land upon Tsyeyk Suli standing amongst your clan, your brother's and sister’s, his mate and children by his side but missing a member, you know that your decision is made.

Tonowari raises his arms above his head, cradling your brand new baby in his hands as gently as he’s ever held anything before. The sound of excitement runs through the members of the clan who can see their Olo’eyktan’s new baby.

The low baritone of Tonowari's voice rings out, loud enough for the clan, the Tulkun and even Eywa herself to hear as he announces the name of your son.

“Neteyam!”

#tonowari x reader #tonowari smut #avatar x reader #avatar smut

156 notes · View notes

yanverse · 2 months

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I have to see my husband, show me Yuri. Please.

bbg i GOT chu husband incoming <33 i present to you my yuri magnum opus !!

"Mr. Maeda"

(cws: gn pronouns, work meet cute, office romance, a bit of petty theft, work-inappropriate kisses, obsessive & overprotective behavior, yuri's a lil secret creep)

wc: 3.3k

Here it is. The starting point of the rest of your life. You worried it might be some big, huge corporate building that you'd sooner get lost in than find your way to the office written on your little sheet of paper, but it was small enough to fit its two-story self smack dab on the corner of the avenue. Easy to access, walkable from where you just moved…and still terrifying. This was the only place that would hire you and the first job you'd had that was actually in your field, so to screw this up would ruin years of potential prospects if you ever decided to move upwards and onwards. There was a whole lot riding on this, but all you could do was swallow those doubts and keep your chin up as you pushed through the door and took your first step into the future.

Ting-ing. A bell chimed overhead to signal your arrival, all other noise from the street growing muffled as the door closed behind you. It was…elegant. Even for an interior decorating office, it seemed lavish. The floors were shiny with fresh wax and the furniture was all arranged so delicately you wouldn't even want to sit, the waiting room off to your left and a showroom to your right while a long hallway extended past the front desk on the far side of the wall. It was all decorated in deep red and white tones for the most part along with some other complementary hues, all save for the bored-looking young woman at the desk who wore a baby-blue top and torn jeans. If nothing else, at least the dress code seemed pleasantly loose.

"H..." You squeaked out your greeting like a shy mouse as you approached her, her eyes stuck to the pages of a book that laid open by her keyboard. “..H-Hello.”

"Yuri's by appointment only, please book online."

Her instructions came out as bland and monotone as you could ever imagine, a business card with the URL slapped down on the upper counter of her desk to stare right back at you. She hadn't peeled her eyes away from her reading for even a second, but when she did, it was because you'd cleared your throat and mustered up the courage to say that you were actually here for the job.

"Here for the–oh!" The mere sight of you had her flipping her novel shut and getting up from her seat, her hand stuck out to greet yours as a look of embarrassment overtook her features. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were–e-er, never mind. Welcome! I'm Angel."

Despite her relatively gentle appearance, the squeeze of her hand was strong–you had little space to dwell on those minor details though, as she briskly skirted around her desk to wave you towards the hall. "I'll take you back to meet Yuri, right this way."

Clack. Clack. Clack. It wasn't her flats but your polished shoes clicking loudly on the tile, echoing your nerves in the silence that was only peppered by the distant hum of computers and occasional chatter. You'd no idea exactly how many agents worked here, just that it was a small agency. Less people to impress, but more intense scrutiny if you happened to disappoint them with your skills….or lack thereof. God, please let your heart stop beating so loud. Angel reached for a door near the very end of the corridor and you took a deep breath, one that was probably noticeable since she reassured you with a look and a curt smile as it opened.

"Yuri! Your protégé is here," Her grin grew wider as you balked at her introduction, she patted your shoulder in parting and slipped away as you forced yourself through the doorway and into the brightly-lit office crammed with desks. Chairs had been tucked in tight to allow more room to manoeuvre since it was oddly cramped, but that was mostly because nobody sat in them; your coworkers either leaned against the desks or by the huge bay windows letting in the midday sun, and each and every one of their heads turned to face you once you took a step into their domain. Not one of them commanded your attention like he did, though.

"Oh, please, Angel. Try not to embarrass me, would you?" His voice, airy and smooth, reached you where you stood and nearly buckled your knees before you even got a glimpse of him. The assembly that loosely surrounded him made way for his lithe frame to step around the furniture and head towards you, smiles creeping across their faces and whispers exchanged between them–it almost distracted you long enough not to look up once he finally stood in front of you.

Oh no.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Ah…" His eyes darted down from your feet to roam their way back up to your eyes in a single pass, so brief you might've thought it never even happened. "...A real pleasure, my sweet." Yuri's cool, soft hands clamped around yours in a gentle handshake, though he barely moved it and rather just held you there like he needed an excuse to stare longer.

Oh, god. Your boss is too attractive to get anything done.

"Y-You too, sir. I've really been looking forward to this." You tried not to stutter out your answer, though Yuri seemed endeared nonetheless and urged you to forget the honours, his grip just barely brushing you once more as he finally managed to drop your hand.

"Let's…oh, what was I saying?" He blinked with an absent gaze, attention fixated on something over your shoulder before he came back down to earth. A quick glance in your peripheral betrayed nothing of note, aside from your own hair. But to think anything of that would be odd, and far be it from you to put your foot in your mouth in front of a boss that actually seemed to like you. "Oh! Right, right–why don't I show you around? We'll get you settled in a minute, but I'll give you a tour first."

He extended an arm out elegantly towards the office, your new coworkers clamouring to get their introductions in to the fresh meat in their presence–yet in all the time he spent showing you around, Yuri didn't seem to take his eyes off you for more than a moment or two.

Which was either a terrible omen of things to come, or a very, very good sign.

The first three days of a new job were usually the most difficult, but a week had passed now and you could swear the hard part just wasn't coming. Every task you'd been given had been a breeze, and with no real assignments yet since you were still in the learning phase, you were practically getting paid to sit around, experiment with your room designs in the decorator software, and chat with your coworkers in between group lunches and the occasional outing to visit potential clients.

The man that had now established himself as your boss was nothing at all like what you expected. Sure, your expectations were certainly lower after your last job plummeted you into financial hell and mental anguish, but you expected the top agent of the city's biggest interior design conglomerate to be somewhat prudish, egotistical, and impossible to please.

But Yuri Maeda was nearly the complete opposite of that. He was by no means lackadaisical, and he did carry a certain air of class about him in the way he walked and talked, but he was not at all like other bosses you'd worked for before. He remembered your name when you walked in the door, and he welcomed you with open arms. He was kind to you and spoke gently of your mistakes, and no matter what, he'd never raised his voice or talked down to anyone about anything.

And he was so, so easy on the eyes. His age showed in nothing but his white hair and even that was more of a fashion statement than anything else–you wouldn't assume a man that barely crested 30 would be so rife with grays under normal circumstances. He didn't even dress like a boss; he'd foregone a suit and tie in exchange for loose, flowing clothing, his shirt hung low to show off his pronounced collarbones while his pants hugged tight to his hips and accentuated those long legs that just kept on going. You'd once asked about his background, and the way his face lit up at the chance to talk about his infancy in Morocco and adolescence in Japan had been the highlight of your day, no doubt. You'd rarely seen such a professional and well-bred man talk so excitedly of his roots while brewing you some coffee and pulling out old photos of his home countries. It was an almost childlike interest, and it endeared him to you even more if that was even possible.

Yuri had a strange habit, however. At first you thought you were getting hazed by the frequency with which your office supplies was going missing, but soon you started noticing that whatever item you had lost would magically appear in Yuri's hands. You'd caught him with your pencil behind his ear, your colourful paperclips attached to his files, once you could've sworn that someone had taken a sip from the drink you'd left on your desk, though there was no way for you to prove that was even the case.

Whatever was going on with that, it took a backseat to the unbelievably good treatment you were getting at the office. You couldn't make yourself mess this up on purpose–you had to try as hard as you ever had to make this work and make it last. Where else were you going to get such a nice boss that called you cute nicknames and bought you lunch on a whim?

But soon came the day that you'd been scheduled to help your first client. You'd been excited leading up to it, eagerly absorbing every ounce of advice that Yuri provided as you prepared to flex your skills.

When you came back to the office in tears, however, that dream had clearly been shattered. Angel at the front desk could barely catch you before you dashed into the bathroom to hide, and even when she followed you in to see what was the matter she herself couldn't believe her ears.

“They hated it,” You sniffled from within the stall, your feet pulled up to press your knees to your chest as if the echoes of your sobs off the walls wasn't enough to tell that you were there.

“Hated what?”

“Everything! They hated the colours, and my d-designs, they said they were terrible–the worst they've ever seen! They made fun of me!” You sobbed, the events of the morning sending fresh pains into your heart as you heard your own voice repeating them. Angel heaved a sigh from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I'm getting Yuri. Hold on.”

“No, please, I–I can't let him see me like this, I-” Despite your pleas, the sounds of Angel's shoes pattering away left you feeling defeated, and you slumped your head between your knees. The shame and embarrassment of having such confidence, only to have it ruined in one fell swoop, felt like too much to bear. You wanted to run and hide forever, dig a hole deep enough and jump in.

You wanted to quit, but you couldn't bear it if Yuri fired you–and after several minutes, hearing a sudden barrage of shouting that sounded like his voice outside the bathroom, you had a feeling that was exactly what was coming. You knew it was too good to be true. Deep down Yuri desired perfection, and you were not that–not even close enough to have tried.

Just when you started to consider slipping out of the bathroom and facing the music rather than stay inside and keep sobbing pathetically, the door creaked open. Taut footsteps hesitantly stepped inside, and by the soft breathing, you knew exactly who it was. He rapped gently on the stall door with his knuckles. It took you a moment to slide off the closed lid of the toilet seat, the lock jiggling loudly in the eerie quiet as you slowly opened the door.

At first glance, he looked flushed and out of sorts. His hair was mussed, and his breathing was uneven. He had his inhaler in the hand at his side, but whether he had taken a puff or not already, you couldn't tell. The silence, save for that, was painful.

Unsure of what to say, you looked back at him as he did the same to you. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks tearstained and still wet, while his chest heaved hard enough that the quiet was finally broken decidedly by a click, and then a deep inhale of breath as he pressed his inhaler to his mouth.

“Mr. Maeda? Are you…okay?”

“How many times…” He trailed off, only to cough slightly into his arm, and take another deep puff of his medicine. With that, his lungs finally seemed to clear, and he could take deeper, longer breaths while slipping the inhaler into his pocket. “...I told you, don't have to call me that.”

“You're my boss.”

“I'm also your friend.”

“...Am I fired?” Your question twisted itself out, because it was inevitable to come off your lips, but it was so soft and meek you felt shameful yourself just asking it. Yuri shook his head.

“No, no you're not–you’re not fired, sweetheart. You're invaluable to my team. You're not going anywhere.” He seemed convinced beyond belief, but you weren't quite there yet. Despite his earnestness, despite his friendliness and charm that was distinctly Yuri, you couldn't quite bring yourself to trust that you were really that special in his eyes.

“Th-They hated my designs,” You sniffled, and brought your fingers up to smudge the tears that ran fresh down your cheek. You couldn't yet bring yourself to meet his eyes. “All of them. They said they were worthless, Yuri. They didn't like them.”

“I know.” He shook his head again, a twinge of something fierce coming over his expression. “They were wrong. Just so you know, I told them so over the phone.” He looked a bit sheepish, quietly rubbing the back of his neck. So that must have been the yelling you heard…

“Wh-What? Yuri, they were part of a big account, their main client-”

“Listen, sweetheart.” He leaned in suddenly, using his height to his advantage as he loomed over you. Not in a menacing way, but more…almost protective, in a sense. “They were worthless. Don't think about them anymore. They weren't worth your designs, nor your time.”

It shocked you to hear him speak so callously of a client, when he had always shown nothing but utmost professionalism in dealing with even the most snobbish of customers. It seemed like there was almost a shift inside him, like something had snapped to make him shout those people down over the phone, and now had him nearly cornering you in the stall as he got closer and closer to you. Only your wide, nervous eyes managed to snap him out of his trance, and at your trembling he stepped back and brushed some hair out of his face as he cleared his throat.

“You…value my professional opinion, don't you?”

You nodded with little hesitation, yet a lump in your throat forced you to swallow. “Yes, of–of course, Yuri.”

“Then believe me when I say that you are far better than you think. You're smart, and very talented, and…kind, and…very, very lovely. You're a treasure to work with. I…” Even though he trailed off, his true intentions glimmered in those clear, pale eyes. “...I want you to forget everything they said to you, everything that made you cry today. They are but a speck on your life–not worth the slightest mention.”

You opened your mouth to protest on instinct; why did you deserve to feel better about it at all? Surely you must've done something wrong. You can't imagine your meager skills being worth such praise. But something was telling you that this was far deeper than the surface level of work, and Yuri just about confirmed it as he cut you off before you could get down on yourself further.

“Believe me,” He took your cheeks into his soft, sweet-smelling hands, and brushed a stray tear away with his thumb. The gesture, as gentle as it was, almost brought you to more tears with how touching it was. “People that behave in such an…uncouth way don't deserve your attention. They don't deserve your love. Your affection. Your…”

Only then did you realize how close Yuri's lips had drifted to yours. Your mouths were nearly closing in on each other, and but for any resistance on your part he would make no move to stop what was happening. This was not in your job description.

But would you really stop him from kissing you when that's all you had fantasized of until now? A small, shy smile slowly made its way across your lips, and Yuri's followed soon after as he smoothly leaned in to claim a warm, firm kiss, with a more eager introduction to his tongue than you anticipated.

A moment passed, then another, and in what seemed like ages but at the same time only a second he broke it off, his expression aghast–perhaps at realizing what he'd just done. Probably realizing that it was a terrible, terrible mistake. You stood meekly and on the cusp of a panicked fit as he brought the back of his hand to his lips, but soon the warmth in his cheeks tipped you off to what was truly stirring in his heart.

“That was…unprofessional. I didn't mean to-”

“I-It's okay, Yuri-”

“-Not in the bathroom, gods.” He seemed preoccupied, your words barely registering. He ran his fingers back through his soft, white strands of hair and took on a look of sheepish delight. “You deserve better than that. Come, let's–to my office, let's go.” He ushered you out of the stall, his grip firm on your wrist like he was too nervous to try and hold your hand.

“Yuri?” You called out, but he seemed in a daze. His breath was catching on every inhale like he was drowning in excitement, yet he was holding himself together just barely in your presence. He wouldn't make much eye contact with you, but when you did spot that look in his eyes…it seemed like he was in the midst of a calm frenzy, his exterior composed but his mind and heart all stirred up, roused, jumbled into a mess of feelings that he was trying desperately not to get lost in. He tilted his body away from you too, as if trying not to let you see him front-facing as if he had something he was nervously hiding.

“T-Take these,” He suddenly piped up, and thrusted a set of delicate keys into your palm while he turned completely away from you. It was all he could not to just hide his flushed face completely in his hands. “Go wait in my office, I'll–I just need a moment to compose myself. Please.” Yuri whined, and at his behest you agreed and stepped out of the bathroom to give him some privacy. Hearing the lock click behind you made you a bit nervous, but as you made your way out and down the hall you fiddled with the keys and thought about all that Yuri had said.

…What a strange, alluring boss he was indeed. But even so, even now, you wouldn't know even half of what Yuri was really capable of, nor what he had been planning for you since the day you walked into the office and captured his heart in your soft, beautiful hands.

#yuri maeda #yuri maeda x reader #yandereverse #yandere ocs #male yandere #3k #ellie writes #chenkari #anons

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ihatemylife6000 · 6 months

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ermmmm,, my magnum opus just dropped ☝️🤓

for real though Randy I love you my pookie bear honey bunches of oats sweetums baby angel schmoopy boopy pie, I am absolutely fuckin with tha pizza hut maid dress

dude it's like 2 in the morning, i've been at this thing for like almost 2 hours now. i was supposed to be asleep at 11 pm tonight... sigh 😔💔 my down horrendousness for randy far outweighs my need for sleep i guess, its whatever im so in love with this fool

#dialtown #randy jade #randy dialtown #HELLLOOOOO SAILOR #pizza hut maid dress #yooo yoo gas this upppp #its 2 in the fucking morning #why dont i put this effort into finding a job

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euphoniouspandemonium · 6 months

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Cotton Mendings — a WIP intro by yours truly

finally doing a proper introduction yayy!! who would have foreseen this .

stage: drafting (rip it's been so long and it's going soo slow)

tags: #wip: cotton mendings ; #aes: cotton mendings

genres: historical fiction, literary fiction

themes and tropes: idealisation and romanticisation of people, queer love and toxic queer relationships, friends to lovers, tenderness and love for the world, hope, grief, obsession, mythological and religious imagery, breaking out of other people's perceptions of you, relearning gentleness after having it beaten out of you, being loved as being known

warnings: emotional abuse and implied/mentioned physical abuse, character death and mentioned animal death, period-typical homophobia & transphobia (will add on)

pov: 3rd person past tense

setting: 1920s England

summary: Oscar ignites a relationship with an old friend – charismatic socialite Salvatore – whom he has had repressed love for for years. But despite everything their relationship is haunted by the death of Oscar's brother and a portrait simply called Percy, made by a German artist: a portrait of a red haired man who appears perfect and soft and yet incredibly, beautifully tragic. It makes Oscar question Salvatore and their relationship and wonder about the life and seemingly inherent sorrow of the subject, while Salvatore grows ever more enticed by ruthless, enigmatic Yvonne. Their separate obsessions grow and push them apart, while at the center of everything is Percy, devastatingly alive and spiteful, trapped in a narrative he did not create. Who is Percy, who is Salvatore, who is Oscar in rotation to them? Does he want to know at all?

characters, notes, excerpt & taglist under the cut <33

characters:

Oscar (he/him, bi): world's #1 most pathetic sad boy. romanticises everything to the point of self destruction. scared of acting on his desires but full of soooo much love. obsessive, incredibly sensitive, artistic, melancholy. also sooo autism.

Salvatore (he/him, bi): charismatic, intelligent, flamboyant, philosophical, hedonistic. he sees everything in a very realistic and nihilistic way. emotionally detached yet surprisingly protective and gentle with the people he loves.

Percy (he/him, bi, trans): babyboy !! baby!!!!!!!! full of so much life and love and poetry. he is very sweet and sarcastic and loves going on little adventures. mentally ill & physically disabled. he's suffered more than jesus but his wonder and whimsy are unmatched.

Yvonne (she/her, bi): hot evil woman❤️ ruthless, vicious and cold. her love is almost violent and repugnant. she only cares about few people but if they are in danger she knows no morality or law. also she's mischievous like a little cat <3

notes: Cotton Mendings is my passion project, my Magnum Opus, my baby. I have worked very hard on it and I've developed the character dynamics and symbolism sooooo much I could talk about them for hours. It all started with the song Angie by The Rolling Stones, but it has strayed very far from its original concept (actually Angie isn't even on the playlist — it is now completely a product of my obsession with The Smiths I'm afraid). It has helped me through so much and I will be very happy if people like it :] I love my horrible insane bisexuals. Why is everyone bisexual, you ask? well. I ❤️ bisexuals.

excerpt:

He thought again of Percy, of the way he glowed as if coated in honey and sunlight, the sweet smile on his face. What if Percy had spent his life failing at it, too? Trying to be the perfect picture of a beautiful boy. Turning hazy and translucent, like a ghost, from trying. And those few minutes with him, how the light extended and held Oscar too, how Percy was perfect and beautiful but couldn't possibly be only that. How they were both an image without a body.

(general) taglist: @ribelleribelle @talesofsorrowandofruin @writing-is-a-martial-art @alexwritesfiction @aether-wasteland-s @sculpture-in-a-period-drama @phantomnations @olimpias (ask to be added or removed)

#wip: cotton mendings #wip intro #writeblr #original writing #syd's writing

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atlas-affogato · 8 months

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What have I gotten myself into with this story 😭😭😭 I've already written like 230k words for it and I don't even have the major plot lines of part 1 and 2 written or even planned. I've got all this complicated shit going on with foreshadowing and character and relationship development, all these things that build slow and subtle until they're smacking you in the face, I've written so much and I still feel like I have so much left to write 😭😭 I am in over my head but its so much fun so I'll just get used to it ig. I've done so much research already and I'm sure I'll be doing so much more pretty soon

#ive got to get all my shit compiled again because my word doc got corrupted #yay me #but this story is so long and complex i dont even know what to do about it #i feel bad for the people who said they'd read it like im sorry babes it is gonna be another year max before this thing is published #its my baby my magnum opus #my writing #my fanfiction #jca enforcers fanfiction #how long is this going to be??? 200k was my goal but i wont be surprised if it hits 400k by the time its done

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clovenhoofedjester · 3 months

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jellicle lineups; part 1/4

hi catsblur ! today i am presenting to you the fruits of my labor. my own little versions of the jellicle cats; obviously based on the replica designs With Fun Little Twists ! such as, they are not naked. ramble below the cut, both on designs and some personal thoughts on the characters

these designs are very much first-draft, subject to change, blah blah. you will very likely be seeing me drawing them differently if i post more of them. i just. urrbhhh. i had 2 draw them....

and the clothes ! even though they're very feline i draw them a bit too human-y for the nakedness to not look consistently weird. i will be drawing them closer to the stage designs in some instances but for rn. clothes. it was a fun exercise in character design too

the kittens are all young adults, think 18-20 ! as much as i love headcanons like demeter being sillabubs mother, it shrimply will not work out timeline-wise. so headcanons like that will be delegated to like... siblings and stuff

victoria | 🍧 💌 🩰

i started out with victoria's design not only because of her being the Main Kitten, but because she has such a concise and clear aesthetic to me. she actually started out with a simple pastel brown dance practice fit before i decided that i wanted to make the outfits ornate(ish) and ended up with a proper ballerina getup

i also quite like when victoria is not just solid white with some grey (love ones that are more yellow or brown) so i colored her fur with some blue and pink-ish tones not only to add more depth but to resemble the trans flag LOL

and i wanted to try something different with making her a bit more lavender than baby pink. i also based her overall look on obc victoria, portrayed by cynthia onrubia :^]

to move on to character interpretation, i think victoria is partially deaf and mute. she primarily communicates through dance. as one of the oldest kittens she'd be 19 in human years

plato | 💐 🕯 🍬

plato's design doesnt stray too far from his standard replica design but i tried to add my own flair . i tried to keep the creepy porcelain doll aesthetic going w their face added some more depth like some other designs with different colors and bold face stripes

i also really like the outfit i chose for them. the flower in their hair and on their shirt is a peony which is a popular wedding flower :") because im a sucker for platoria and very much subscribe to the idea that the ball we see is their funny cat wedding in a way

the outfit is based on standard ballerino costumes but i tried to stray from it with the silky half-skirt thing and pointe shoes. lets go queer cats lets go

i think plato is also very quiet and that's why he and victoria were so drawn to each other. i also quite like the idea that he was a bit of a troubled stray before he found the jellicles. they would be 20 in human years

electra |⚡🥭 🔔

boy i STRUGGLED with electra's clothes i struggled so hard. i think i'm happy with what i ended up with though—i originally gave her the babydoll dress that sillabub has (inspired by artsed electra) but figured that i wanted at least one of the girls to be more tomboyish/butchy. thank you to that one production which apparently had electra be one of the raffish crew and get in on some of the boys' choreography

im very happy with what i did with her fur colors as well. silly little tortoiseshell :] its based on a nonrep but i have no idea which one. enjoy her freckles too

i think electra deserves to be a little spunky. [whispers] i also think shes bombalurinas little sister. she'd be 18 in human years

etcetera | 🎠 🍯 🏅

i needed at least one cat with a circus aesthetic. say hello to my magnum opus: jacked tumbler acrobat etcetera. it was only a matter of time until someone said fuck it and let one of the girls perform lifts and stuff. this is mostly because ive always really liked how shes usually the cat to do the flying trapeze bit and wanted to push it further

i also struggled SO EXTREMELY HARD with making her colors look nice and makeup distinctive but i figured it out in the end—thank you obc cettie for the mismatched eyeshadow and such. i also wanted to give a cat a short bob type of head fur/hairstyle and she fit the bill

nothing much about specific character notes other than like... i want to make her related to some of the cats but cannot for the life of me figure out who 2 assign. also she'd be around 19 in human years, a couple months younger than vic

sillabub | 🌻 🧋 🎼

i think of all of these little fellas sillabub is my favorite. several elements are balanced in her design—the standard jemima with a darker/reddish palette, the more softer and lighter sillabub design, the red eye patch from il sistina jemima, and the overall aesthetic of obc jemima with the big hair and wide, deepset eyes

i've seen her typical design critiqued by some people and wanted to incorporate those critiques by making her look less similar to demeter/bombalurina, adding more red to her body fur, and making her makeup more distinct and less... wooo girl give us nothing. and i included the squiggly on her collarbone

i also really REALLY love her overall aesthetic of sweet kindhearted girl NAMED AFTER A DEMON WITH SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG COLORING AND GIGANTIC SPIKED COLLAR !!!! so i decided to push it by making the collar definitely too big for her, giving her a slightly "edgy" outfit and making her hair resemble devil horns

as for character stuff, i think she has magical powers though i haven't developed exactly What they are yet. beyond her sweet exterior they trouble her. [whispers] i also think shes demeters little sister. she would be 18 in human years, a few months younger than electra and tumblebrutus

pouncival | 🌱 🩹 🍵

i struggled with pouncival's clothing design like i did electra's because i didn't go into drawing him with a particular gimmick in mind. but i think i'm happy with the casual formal look. it makes him look like such a kind young man even if he's a little shit

i did have a lot of fun trying to make his makeup distinctive from tumblebrutus'—so many fellas with brown eyepatches ! so his colors are more dark and striking. i also tried to make him look less like Typical Cis Man by giving him a bit of black lipstick

enjoy his freckles too

but like. i think hes literally such a little cis guy. nothing else for me to add for my specific interpretation of him it's all laid out. this guy fucking loves rocket league, fishing and chess. he'd be 19 in human years

tumblebrutus | 🎡 🥊 🍦

SWEET TUMBLEBRUTUS. i think drawing him here gave me a soft spot for him. with his outfit mirroring cettie's i didn't much struggle with that. his colors are also based on obc tumblebrutus

when i was first conceptualizing my own versions of the cats i wanted at least one of them asides from grizabella to have wavy fur. and idk what it is, maybe it's the lack of content for him, but i was really drawn to the idea of curly tumblebrutus!

i wanted their design to be distinctive from pouncival's so i made their colors softer, kinda watercolor-y. OH AND THEIR FUR IS ALSO MEANT TO BE A LITTLE TRANS FLAG COLORED

as for character, i think he is also a bit troubled, as a son of grizabella's. you heard me, people. i'm probably the first person ever to headcanon that. he'd be 18 in human years

AND THAT'S ABOUT IT ! thank you for reading this far, have a great day and stay tuned for more designs in the days to come !

#cats the musical #cats 1998 #character design #chibi #sfw furry #victoria #plato #electra #etcetera #sillabub #pouncival #tried glazing this; didn't love the artifacting effect so it remains unglazed #i suppose i am laying down and dying at the hands of tech bros #tagging 98 because theyre all based on it as a baseline #my art

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mirkwoodshewolf · 2 years

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Drawing chaos; Peter Quill x toddler reader

*Author’s note*

So this comes from @white-wolf-buckaroo who I thank for being sooooo patient with me and I hope this is the continuation you were looking for. After seeing the Groot shorts on Disney+ the Magnum Opus short was BIG inspiration for this fic so I hope you as well as all my readers enjoy this little drabble.

No warnings just some pure, unadulterated fluff. This can be served as a sequel to this story here.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@gay-and-ready-to-cry

@austynparksandpizza

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It had been four years since the Guardians had found little (Y/n) and to say their lives had changed well—it definitely had its fill of surprises. Like the one time when they were on a mission in Tamaran to stop a Leviathan attack and (Y/n) (who had just started learning how to walk) had gotten out of the ship and while completely and blissfully unaware of the dangers on the planet, walked through the forests of Tamaran and nearly got eaten by an alien plant. Of course Rocket managed to spot her and get her out of there.

Or the time when she was three and her father Peter had to stay behind on a mission because he had injured his arm pretty badly. Though he enjoyed spending time with his daughter, he almost had a heart attack when they were playing a game of hide and seek and he couldn’t find her anywhere. It took over 2 hours of him having a panic attack searching every nook and cranny of the Milano but he couldn’t find her.

Only to have the team come back, yell at him before helping to find her until Gamora saw that she had slipped under Peter’s bed and had fallen asleep. Of course as soon as Peter saw how cute she looked asleep, he couldn’t stay mad at her and took her back to her room (but he did give her a lecture about scaring him like that again).

Now at four years old, (Y/n) could walk and talk and she seemed fully invested in her world of the Milano. She was especially good friends with Groot, or Baby Groot, again. Yep, another incident had made Groot burn up and he had once again become Baby Groot. And of course when you get a baby as mischievous as Baby Groot and a curious toddler like (Y/n) Quill, things can get a bit chaotic.

The Guardians were out cruising through the galaxy when both (Y/n) and Baby Groot had decided to make something for their dads. Together the two of them got the supplies they needed to make their drawings.

They got to lounge room where they had their meals, coffee breaks or wanted to take some time away from the others. (Y/n) and Baby Groot set down their supplies and set down their papers. Groot began to white out the ALFIE comic book cover he had taken from Quill’s collection while (Y/n) was using an old page torn out of a Laskavarian translation book.

Groot then used some glue and placed it not only on the paper but also on the tail hair he had cut from Rocket’s tail. While (Y/n) used her markers to draw her pictures.

“I am Groot.” He said to her.

“No my picture will be better.”

“I am Groot!”

“No mine!” (y/n) stuck her tongue out at Groot before returning to her drawing and Groot back to his. (Y/n) capped her red marker before picking up the green one next and drew the next person she was going to draw. She then looked up to see Groot holding her father’s boot which had his rocket propeller. “Hey that’s daddy! He wouldn’t like you using that.”

“I am Groot.”

“You better or I’m gonna tell on you.”

“I am Groot.” He mumbled before placing the broken shades over his face and activating the rocket boosters and placed it over his picture to draw off the glue. After a while their pictures were almost done when Groot got the idea for how to get glitter.

He placed one of Rocket’s makeshift bombs on top of a green glittering hard drive Groot had pulled from the ship and then took him and (Y/n) out of the room with the detonator.

“I am Groot.”

“No I wanna push it.”

“I am Groot!”

“You can push it.”

“I am Groot.”

“No you push it.”

“I. Am. Groot.”

“Okay, I will.” She had tricked him thanks to an old gag she had seen on a cartoon show. Groot gawked at her then pouted as she hovered her finger over the big red button before she pressed it and the room exploded loudly. After the smoke cleared and the massive wave og glitter than shot out of the room had fallen to the floor, the two kids raced back inside with their pictures to use the glitter as they saw fit.

Suddenly Groot almost tripped over a large hole that had been made in the ground by the bomb.

“Uh-oh.” Said (y/n). Groot pondered before racing over to the cabinet drawers and pulled out a roll of duct tape. He raced back over and pulled apart the tape and together the two kids tried to patch the hole up before anybody noticed.

Walking through the hallway was Quill as he looked around with both a curious but worried look. All day he hadn’t been able to find (y/n) and he knew she wasn’t playing another game of hide and seek. For one thing she hadn’t finished her lunch which was odd because (much like her dad) she never leaves food behind.

He came into the engine room where Rocket was doing some repairs to the control panels that had been acting up and glitching on his side of the ship, preventing him from taking control of the ship when he wanted to.

“Hey Rocket.” Peter called out. Rocket peeked out from the floor and lifted up his goggles holding both a hammer and blowtorch in each hand.

“What do you want Quill? Can’t you see I’m very busy fixing up my ship.”

“Uhh first of all it’s my ship. And second, you hadn’t seen (Y/n) or Groot around have you?”

“I’ve been down here doing repairs Quill, hadn’t seen hair nor twig of em.”

“Well I haven’t either and I’m starting to get worried.”

“Alright, alright. If it’ll keep your pants on, let’s see if we can’t find them.” Rocket said lifting himself up from the floor, set down his tools and took the goggles off.

The two of them walked along the hallways when they felt the room shake as well as the big boom that sounded off.

“Oh no.” they both said worriedly as they both took off running. As they turned left, they saw that the room that lead into the lounge area had gone up in smoke and the fire alarm was blaring off. “Groot! (Y/n)!”

“(Y/n) can you hear me!?” Peter called out.

“Groot are you dead!!” Rocket exclaimed as they looked around frantically for both their children only to look down at the floor to see them both completely fine as they continued to patch up the hole with duct tape. “Oh there you two are. Wait are-are those the ship’s fuel rods?!” Peter gawked as he pointed out the entire destruction in his ship.

“And how did the walls collapse like that and why is everything on fire!? And more importantly what smells like something died in here?!”

“Wait a minute is that….” Rocket sniffed the air before bending down and picked up the purple soap bar. “Drax’s soap?”

“He’s been bothering me looking for that thing, won’t shut up about it.” Peter said. The two parental figures then turned to the kids and Rocket scolded them both.

“Kids, why does it look like a bomb went off in here?” As Baby Groot pulled on the roll of tape he said.

“I am Groot?”

“Don’t give me that boldface lie. There’s no way this was a gas leak!” Rocket reprimanded him. Peter crossed his arms over his chest before looking to (Y/n).

“(Y/n) Meredith Quill, give me the truth or it’s no music for a week.”

“We used the-the bomb for the glitter.” She said.

“WHAT!? How did-Rocket I told you to keep your bombs out of reach of the kids!!”

“Hey don’t you put this on my Quill!”

“You’re the one leaving bombs easily available for the kids to get to! Who else am I gonna blame!?”

“How bout the two gremlins who caused the explosion in the first place!?!?” the two of them looked down at the kids who were now looking down shamefully at their pictures. “Now don’t you two think you’re getting out of this by being cute.” Rocket scolded.

“He’s right. What you two did was completely dangerous and unsafe! You could’ve been hurt or worse killed!” the two kids looked at each other before holding up their pictures.

“What? What’s this more trash? Better be a written apology.” Rocket said as he took Groot’s picture while Peter took (y/n)’s. Rocket pulled out a pair of glasses and set them along his muzzle as he looked at the picture. “Huh this is….hmm…..wow this is, this is pretty cool. Oh this is very nice!”

“Let me see.” Rocket showed Peter Groot’s picture to see that it was all of them together with Groot encompassing his arms around his friends and family. “Wait why am I crying in the picture?”

“Cause you’re always a crybaby Quill. Face it, you whine more than these two do.”

“I do not!” Peter whined. Rocket raised his brow with an expression that said, ‘really?’ Peter grumbled before clearing his throat and said. “Well at least my baby girl sees her father for what he truly is. BAM! Top that!” Peter then turned over (Y/n)’s picture.

She had drawn each of the Guardians in a way she always remembers them. Her and her dad dancing to music, her aunt Gamora’s hugs, climbing onto uncle Drax’s shoulders pretending he’s a mountain, and Rocket along with Groot (in his current state) with machines.

“Hmm. Impressive job there kid. Even though I still disagree with how you drew your old man.” Rocket ruffled (y/n)’s hair. “We’re gonna have to get these two pictures framed, maybe even put them on top of the refrigerator.”

“You really like them?”

“Of course squirt, you and Groot did a pretty good job on each of your pictures.”

“I am Groot?” Peter and Rocket looked at each other before Peter said.

“As long as no one was hurt, I guess we can’t really fault you guys. Besides Rocket can fix this up.”

“WHAT!?!?”

“Your bombs, your mess. C’mon kiddo.” Peter picked (y/n) up and they walked back to their shared bed quarters.

As promised, Peter managed to find an old picture frame that he had kept and placed the picture inside and sealed it up before setting it right by the bed.

“There. Perfect spot for it.”

“Perfect spot for it.” (y/n) repeated which made Peter chuckle softly as he ruffled his daughter’s head. “You know baby girl, that was pretty unsafe of what you and Groot did, I thought something bad had happened to you.”

“I sorry daddy. Just wanted to make the picture more prettyful.” She softly said.

“I know. But next time don’t follow Groot’s instructions on using bombs to make glitter. At this stage Groot’s a little psychopath.”

“What’s a psychopath?” she asked mispronouncing the word but Peter understood what she was saying.

“Well….it’s a person who doesn’t understand right from wrong and makes bad choices everytime. Which is something I don’t want you doing promise me okay?”

“I promise daddy.”

“That’s my girl. Now go to sleep.”

“Will you sing for me?”

“Of course. Which song shall it be tonight?”

“My song! My song! My song!” she cheered as she got under the covers.

“Alright, alright, alright calm down. Get settled in and I’ll sing it.” Once he tucked her in, Peter softly began to sing ‘Ooh child’, the very song she’s always loved ever since he officially adopted her what felt like a short time ago.

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