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klausysworld · 6 months

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would u be down to write Klaus x vampire hunter? I need that forbidden love angst and all that goodness!! I also may have seen a Buffy the vampire slayer post and couldn’t stop thinking about a Klaus x slayer relationship 🤔

Plot twist? She ends up getting pregnant!?!? I just need the juicy stuff loool

(this is gonna be a multiple part story FOR SURE! I can't lie I've had a very similar idea/scenario running through my head for the past few weeks so i'm really glad someone really wanted this too! The only reason it'll be multiple parts is so that it's easier to read and so that i'm able to add the build up how i imagined :))

Love is never simple

(Part 2 here)

Y/n was the first born daughter to Grayson and Miranda Gilbert.

When Y/n was born they had only very recently claimed Elena as their own, passing the two babies off as twins to those they knew. Fraternal of course for they were definitely not similar not for their looks nor their behaviour.

Elena was a mommy’s girl, she wanted to dress up and be the princess: have her hair and nails done, go shopping with her friends Caroline and Bonnie.

Meanwhile Y/n was more curious. She liked to follow her father, learn from his actions. She still spent time with the girls but given the choice to run around a field and swing a bat then she wouldn’t say no.

One day Miranda was unable to pick up the two girls from school, they were only young and couldn’t get a lift home. Grayson came straight from work and took the girls back there with him. Elena did as she was told, stayed in the designated room and wrote in her diary. Y/n decided to sneak after her father, wondering down a cold staircase to a dungeon of sorts. Men were walking with purpose in lab coats and barking orders at weak, pale beings in cells.

She could see card shot glasses filled with a deep red liquid laid out in rows on a tray. She held onto the railing of the stairs and watched as, who she assumed to be sick people, begged for the cups. Eventually they were given the small dosage, dark veins travelled down their eyes to their cheeks and sharp teeth poked into their lower lips.

A hint of fear swirled within her eyes, confusion and fascination. Something was wrong with these people. She peered closer, accidentally drawing the attention of one of the patients. His eyes narrowed before a small, cruel smile formed on his lips. It barely lasted a second before Y/n was harshly grabbed by the upper arm, causing a shriek to leave her as her head whipped round to see her fathers alarmed face staring back at her

“Y/n!” He yelled “you do not come down here!” Grayson hurriedly lifted her up the stairs and slammed the door shut behind him. “Where’s Elena? Is she still in the office?” He questioned in a panic and Y/n nodded quickly

“She stayed- I’m sorry Daddy- i just wanted to see” she whispered and he sighed, placing her down onto her feet and kissed her forehead.

“It’s not safe for you there” he warned

“What was wrong with those people?” She asked quietly and he clenched his jaw

“They’re not people Y/n…” he murmured “they’re…monsters…they just dress up as people”

They both looked at each-other trying to figure out what the other was thinking

“Dressed up?” She questioned curiously and he clicked his tongue

“Yes…see y/n, they aren’t humans. They just want you to believe that they are, they’re dangerous and it’s part of my job to stop them…to help real people be safe” he explained and she nodded

“You cure them?” She tilted her head, she knew her father was a doctor. Perhaps by stopping them he would make them people instead of monsters.

“If only that were a thing my little y/n….these beasts cannot be cured. Do you remember last summer when there was that…mountain lion on the loose?” He asked her and she nodded with a puzzled smile. “Well that creature hurt people, sent them to heaven…and because of that, the lion had to be put to rest” he told her and she nodded, viscous animals were put down, she knew that. “These beasts, they’re just like that lion. They’re viscous and they won’t ever be tame…they won’t ever feel love. They just want to hurt people.” He whispered, his eyes conveying passion as he spoke of the monsters.

“So you put them down?” She murmurs and he nods

“That’s right” he confirmed and she nodded back at him.

“Because they deserve it?” She utters and he smiled

“Exactly y/n, exactly”

And that was the start of a very twisted childhood.

Miranda was furious when she found out that Y/n had seen the Augustine vampires. They yelled all through the night, their angry voices sounding through the house which resulted in a frightened Elena and a crying Jeremy to climb into Y/n’s bed, all huddling together, looking to y/n for protection.

The next morning nobody spoke a word of the previous day. They ate breakfast, Grayson kissed the heads of each of his children and went of to work. Miranda got them all ready for school and dropped them off before going to work.

The system repeated itself until Y/n stepped out of line again. Tyler Lockwood had shoved Jeremy into a wall and called him names, Y/n wasn’t nearly as big as Tyler but threw punches just as hard. By the time the teacher had separated the two, both Grayson and Miranda were at the school beyond worried.

The school recommended Y/n went to a child’s psychologist to catch her anger management issues earlier rather than later. The same message was passed onto the Lockwoods.

But Grayson didn’t see a troubled little girl when he looked at his daughter, he saw someone strong, a fighter, a hunter.

With many disagreements and arguments, Miranda demanded that neither Y/n or Elena and Jeremy would ever be faced with the supernatural life as long as they were alive.

Grayson however didn’t listen. When Miranda took Elena out and Jeremy was at a friends, he would bring Y/n back to the vampires.

He showed her brain scans of a vampires brain vs a humans brain. He showed her a sociopaths and a psychopaths. He taught her what they had learnt, how a vampire thinks. How it behaves and why. He had her taking multiple self defence classes a week as well as personal training where she was allowed to used weapons, stakes.

On her 14th birthday, when everyone was getting ready for bed, Grayson came back into her room and gave her a box. Inside the box was a dagger, a very special dagger. One she had seen drawings of, heard stories of. And with it came the promise that one day she would get to use it.

Y/n was given weekly lessons on vampire history, all the way back to the originals.

By the age of 16 she was searching for them. For him. She wanted to see the one and only Niklaus Mikaelson. Supposedly the most ruthless, most dangerous and most powerful creature to walk the planet? The one who was supposed to kill her very very own sister.

Grayson didn’t approve of her wanting to seek him. He agreed with almost everything she did but not that. He couldn’t risk Klaus. Y/n could fight off a vampire, she was even able to kill a ripper while it was in a frenzy, but an original hybrid? At 16? He couldn’t guarantee that.

So she left in the night. She was gone four full days and nights before she returned. Miranda was in tears and begged her to never leave them again. Elena was angry and Jeremy felt betrayed. But Grayson could tell that Y/n had exactly what she wanted. She knew what Klaus Mikaelson looked like.

And when she placed a photograph of the beasts face on the table beside his glass, he knew he had successfully created a true vampire hunter.

Y/n had boards drawn, hidden from her siblings and mother and only accessible to herself. They held the locations of vampire nests, werewolf packs and witch covens all over the US. She began to form connections with witches. Shiela Bennet, Grams, was aware of Y/n’s involvement and although she wanted nothing more than to stay out of vampire business, she knew Y/n was in too deep to back out and she would protect that girl. She helped her get in touch with other witches, warned her of the witch trials that took place, where a hundred spirits would support her. In return Y/n promised to protect Bonnie, to never take advantage of her and to try her best to keep her away from vampires.

Everything was smooth for a while until that tragic night. One slip in the road and the car was in the water. Y/n had kicked and punched with everything in her to break the windows open, to save Elena, her mother and her father. But she watched as the life drained from their eyes, she watched as Elena tried to tell her how much she loved her. And then, in what she thought would be her last moment, she saw a figure force the door open with a supernatural strength. A vampire, Stefan Salvatore, saved both girls that night.

Y/n didn’t know what to think.

She understood that maybe he saved Elena because of the doppelgänger history that she had learnt of over the years. But she never understood why he would save her too.

Y/n had searched on Stefan before, the ripper. To say she was disgusted was an understatement, but now he was acting as though he was nothing more than a bunny muncher? Lies. There was darkness within him, waiting to be let free. He would kill them all. She was sure of it.

So sure that she broke into his house, only to find his brother Damon already there nursing a glass of bourbon. She observed the two brothers as they through each other from the window and hissed like feral cats. Like a mountain lion.

Damon didn’t even bother to hide his darkness, he was a monster in her eyes. Clear as the moon amongst the stars.

But before she could get her hands on the right stake, Grams was at her door

“Y/n, child, you mustn’t” she warned and Y/n frowned

“I will not have two vampires in our town, ruining my family.” She snapped back and Shiela shook her head

“Child, please” she begged “you have to trust me, trust me that you will need them” she whispered urgently

“Why would anyone need a vampire?” She sneered and Grams grabbed her hand

“Just believe” she uttered “they will not touch you, I can guarantee that not a hair on your head-“

“I don’t care if they hurt me, they will hurt Elena- Jeremy- Jenna-“ she listed, taking a pause before looking Grams in the eye “they will destroy Bonnie”

“You know I wouldn’t put her in danger, they will come and go. The older one of here for one thing, once he has it he will leave and the younger is nothing more than a nuisance” she tried to encourage but Y/n only shook her head

“You know that would be the easiest thing to believe. But they are not made to make friends, they are not here because they feel anything other than hunger. Hunger for blood and hunger for power. Your power, Bonnie’s power.” She threatened

“Y/n, you must trust me just this once. We will rid ourselves of these demons but we must do it right so that we do not become the monsters we fear”

And so with much reluctance, Y/n waited and watched.

She didn’t reveal any of her intentions, she just stayed quiet.

Even when the vampires escaped the tomb, she didn’t make herself known. When Grams died it broke something inside Y/n but it also made her stronger, she knew she had to protect her family, the Gilbert’s, the Bennett’s.

Not even the council knew she was in on it all. Grayson never told a soul outside of the Augustine community so that Miranda never found out. She helped of course, but at the end of the day when she watched Stefan and Elena beg for Bonnie to let them save Damon…Y/n just couldn’t decide where she stood. In that moment she froze, she watched Bonnie Bennet help a vampire and it confused her beyond belief.

And she witnessed it time and time again.

How could this happen? How could everyone in that godforsaken town so easily submit to those animals?

It was Damon who finally caught onto Y/n, noticing the pure disgust on her face when a vampire entered the room. The way she looked at Caroline after she turned, the inner battle she faced when Caroline cried like a child and begged Y/n to tell her everything would be okay.

He eavesdropped on Y/n’s conversation with Caroline’s mother, Liz. It was after Mason had outed the Salvatores and they were waiting for the vervain to leave her system.

“She isn’t my daughter anymore Y/n” she whispered and Y/n just stared back at the wall

“No?” She questioned slightly

“She’s a monster- my little girl is…my little girl is gone” she uttered, tears brimming in her eyes and Y/n’s thoughts stirred

“Gone” she repeated “it’s just a monster…dressed as Caroline?” She mused and Liz let out a sob

“How could this happen? They killed my baby” she cried over and over but Y/n remained emotionless. She wasn’t expecting Damon to be back yet, she wasn’t aware of the way he looked at her. The tilt of his head and the narrowing of his eyes. The shock he felt when he heard the question slip from her mouth

“Will you kill her?”

Liz looked up at Y/n, horrified to an extent as she slowly shook her head “I couldn’t…” she breathed and Y/n nodded in understanding

“Would you…would you have someone else kill her?” She asked quietly and Liz sat up a little straighter, looking at Y/n almost quizzically

“I…don’t know” she whispered “should I?”

That was the biggest question Y/n had. Where was the line drawn? The line between right and wrong, the line between human and monster.

Silence hung over them and Damon watched as Y/n pondered the idea, he could see the way her eyes glistened as she thought over the idea of tearing Caroline’s heart out and then he saw the guilt settle in and the confusion take over again.

“Maybe” she mumbled “maybe Caroline is truly gone. Maybe now she is just a hollow shell of who she is supposed to be and a violent, vicious animal” she stated unfazed “but then what if she’s still your baby girl? What if she’s everything she was and more? What if she’s…better” she whispered, a glint in her eye.

Liz couldn’t give and answer, neither of them could. Neither of them ever would.

By the time Y/n left, Liz was almost asleep.

Damon seized Y/n’s arm as she walked toward the front door and attempted to pin her to the wall only to be knocked off his feet and kicked straight in the gut. His hand automatically grabbed ahold of her ankle and twisted but nothing more than a grunt left her as she grabbed something, a glass, and smashed it against the side of his head. He let out a growl and lunged for her throat but her hand was in his chest in seconds. They both stayed completely still as she held is heart still inside his body, his fangs on display and pain clear in his expression.

A silent stare down happened before Y/n squeezed at his heart and forced a surrender out of him. Once she let go they both crawled away from the other and sat on the floor, facing the other with a contemplating look.

Eventually he spoke, “what are you?” He questioned and she scoffed

“Human” she stated as though he were stupid

“It isn’t human instinct to rip someone’s heart out” he raised a brow and she sighed

“Well maybe not every human but when we have things like you living in our town-“

“Things like me?” He laughed “oh you really aren’t who I thought you were” he grinned a grin of disbelief and stared up at the ceiling. “You think all vampires are monsters?” He murmured, glancing to her

“I’m not sure anymore” she mumbled and he hummed, his brows furrowing

“So…me…Stefan and Caroline are the demons and you? You’re a little angel?” He mocks and she rolls her eyes

“Nobody said or implied that” she sighed and he squinted his eyes

“So then what?”

“I don’t know.” She stated, angrier.

The both went quiet for a moment until Stefan walked in. His eyes were wide and confused. Both Damon and Y/n looked to each other, a look that said they needed to keep this quiet.

“What the-“

“Caroline thought I was gonna hurt Liz, she threatened me by grabbing my heart” Damon lied, a sarcastic smirk on his face which made the situation much more believable. “Y/n stayed to watch Liz, didn’t you?” He glared and she nodded

“Yeah, course, anything to help” she smiled and Stefan slowly nodded. Something wasn’t right but he knew he shouldn’t ask.

And from there stemmed an odd and twisted friendship.

Damon liked to purposefully annoy Y/n, see what made her angry enough to the point where she would hurt him. He wanted to know why she was so strongly against vampires. He wanted to know where she went when she disappeared.

Because disappearing wasn’t uncommon for Y/n, since those days when she hunted down Klaus Mikaelson. The beast who was supposed to be impossible to find but clearly wasn’t trying very hard to hide. Since then she would disappear for a week every couple of months, release her built up anger and hatred for the supernatural by going to a vampire nest and seeing how many she could take on at a time.

Between stakes, wooden bullets and enchanted blades she did very well.

She would return, any wounds wrapped in bandages and nobody would ask, Elena and Jeremy had come accustomed to it. They would hug her, thank her for coming back in one piece and she would promise to never leave without coming back.

Damon however would dance circles around her: “where were you?” “Why do you smell of blood” “what did you do?”

One day she snapped at him and told him she killing of leeches like him. She proceeded to stake him through the stomach and leave him on floor before going up to bed.

That was how Stefan found out. He witnessed the scene and very cautiously raised his hands in surrender when she stomped past him on the stairs.

Damon and Stefan had many conversations on it but nothing ever came of them.

Actually a sort of alliance was formed between the three, nobody tells Elena or anyone for that matter that Y/n is a vampire hunter and Y/n will help behind the scenes when needed.

It worked well.

When Elena and Caroline were taken by the wolves, Y/n killed more of those dogs than Stefan Damon combined.

When Elena was kidnapped by Rose and Trevor for Elijah, she had seen it happen and tracked them before anyone else realised they were missing. She waited patiently in the shadows for Elijah to arrive. She already knew so much about him and it was a dream of sorts to see him so close. She had the dagger of course but she wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do. Looking at the situation, his tone and the look in his eyes, he didn’t seem to carry any untoward intentions with Elena and if Y/n were honest she wanted to take Elijah down to Augustine. She wanted to scan the originals brain, test his blood to see if he were different to the others.

But when Elijah continued to smack Trevors head clean off and grab Elena in a painful hold, she couldn’t just stand by. A stake was thrown strain into the top of his spine, temporarily paralysing the original and causing him to let out a sharp cry of pain and anger. Elena turned to face Y/n in shock, confusion and relief. Damon and Stefan moved as soon as Y/n did and tackled Elijah unto the others presumed him dead. Y/n however collected a small sample of his blood before they left.

She returned home with the others, explaining to Elena the best she could about how she got to be who she was. About their father’s secret vampire hunting job, leaving out the Augustine side to the story as she knew Elena would not approve and Damon, Stefan and Caroline would be appalled.

Everything was different from then, Elena seeked more support in Y/n like she used to do when they were younger and Y/n guarded Elena with her life. Even when Elena was determined to sacrifice herself, hand herself over to Klaus, Y/n was there.

Y/n could feel her heart in her throat when Elijah stood in-front of her, two hearts in his hands from the vampires that were here for the doppelgänger. He gave a her a strange looked, confused as to who she was before he noticed the way Elena hid behind her and Damon grabbed at her wrist. He vanished into thin air and Y/n went on edge.

She slept in Elena’s room or had Elena in her own. She dug back through her original’s knowledge and information, pages and pages worth of history and myths. Sketches of Klaus’s face and the daggers. A small figure, hand carved by Klaus himself and made of white oak which she had stolen and kept hidden away. But then she remembered what she had learnt from the witches she had conversed with.

Killing one original would wipe out every vampire of that sireline.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Kill Klaus and the Salvatores, kill Caroline? Her childhood friend? Destroy her bond with her sister and be left alone?

She hid the white oak away and decided on presenting Damon with the mystical dagger and white oak ash. He immediately took to the idea while Stefan was hesitant but after another week of Elijah proving to be nothing but a threat in their eyes, he found himself as close to death as he could be in the cellar of the Salvatore’s.

But then Klaus showed up, we’ll sort of.

He had taken over Alaric and assumed they would all be too stupid to notice.

But Y/n could sense something. And he didn’t like the way she was looking at him, a calculated and curious look. She knew he couldn’t question her, that would be confirming her theory. So she just waited and watched. Klaus couldn’t help but feel a little nervous when she narrowed her eyes and glanced toward Elena.

When he finally revealed himself and attacked the girls in the school, Y/n was already in the cellar and forcing Elijah up the stairs.

“You’re fucked up brother is here, wake the fuck up” she yelled as his fingers slowly twitched to life. She threw blood bags at him, watching him drain them in seconds through coughing and groaning.

Once he came to he tried to have her by the throat only to be smacked back by the invisible force of the doorway. She held the dagger threateningly at him until he calmed down and took a step back to compose himself.

They grabbed Elena ASAP and got to talking.

It was another couple days before she actually saw Klaus in his true form. Y/n had just stepped into the grill, ready to yell at Damon for force feeding her his blood when she noticed the dirty blonde, blue eyed vampire stood with a glass of scotch in his hand and a cruel smirk on his face. She swiftly weaved her way through the grill and to a booth in the corner to watch the interaction.

Klaus finished threatening Damon, walked all the way to the door and paused. He could feel himself being watched, his head turned in her direction, his eyes locked onto hers and his brows pulled together with a hint of confusion. He watched as Damon noticed Y/n and called her name, drawing her attention and beckoning her over. Klaus left with her on his mind.

She was soon forgotten when he completed his ritual, was faced with his brothers betrayal and then set free.

He then left with Stefan, unaware that Y/n knew exactly where they were all of the time. Following them, tracking them, hunting them.

She watched as they moved from the road to motels, to diners to hotels to dodgy alleyways to drain helpless humans, to houses to slaughter petrified people.

And while they slept she would break into their hotel rooms, seeing how long it would take to wake the beast. She rummaged through his duffle bag of clothes and papers. She flipped through his sketch books, seeing what new things he had added since the last time she looked. She made her own copies of his maps, marking the same places as he had to know where he would be going next to find the werewolves. It was amusing to her that the reason he struggled to find them was because she had helped kill a proportion of them over the past few years.

Klaus could always feel like someone was watching him but he wasn’t sure if it was actually there or just his paranoia so he never thought too much of it. She was always hidden when he looked over his shoulder anyway.

What he didn’t know was that sometimes she would slip a concentrated doses of ketamine into his and Stefan’s drinks when he wasn’t looking to ensure he would sleep through the night. What she wasn’t expecting was for him to have a nightmare.

She had been in Klaus’s room, transferring all the data from his phone over to her laptop so she could track is messaged and phone calls when he began muttering. She ignored him and waited for it to load but he began to get louder so she stood up, a little worried he would wake. But when his breathing turned rapid and his mumbled became cries for help in fear she started to understand. He was in the middle of a nightmare and the ketamine refused to let him wake.

Hesitantly she came over to his sleeping form, placing a hand on his shoulder which his shook off.

“Shhh” she hushed quietly, not wanting anyone else in the motel to wake. “It’s okay” she whispered but he wouldn’t shut up. He just wouldn’t stop screaming, begging for the wolves to let go of someone- Henrik.

Y/n pulled the covers off him, leaving him in only his boxers. His skin was covered in sweat as he struggled against his own mind. She gently rubbed her hands over his chest, trying to soothe him with physical touch. She whispered kind words to him as she smoothed her fingers over his skin to his face, petting him gently and calming him back to a more settled sleep. His face turned to press his cheek into her palm and she sighed, relieved.

Carefully she pulled away and grabbed her laptop which now had all of his information. She placed everything back when she found it and left, locking the door and moving into Stefan’s room.

Klaus could faintly remember the feel of hands on his body, such soft skin on his. He could remember her soothing voice as she told him to breath and relax. He could still feel her fingers in his hair when he closed his eyes.

Stefan almost always knew that Y/n had been there, he could always smell her perfume. Plus sometimes she would leave him little notes to let him know she was with him.

What wasn’t planned was for Klaus to actually find Ray. She was torn between staying with Klaus or following Stefan when Stefan promised to get rid of Damon, who was searching for him as he assumed Y/n was glad to be rid of the two monsters.

Y/n only stayed because Stefan had spotted her in the bar and mouthed for her to stay, that he would be back.

So she stayed and observed. Watched as Klaus threw vervain-dipped-darts into the man’s body with a smirk on his face. It was creatures like him that she reminded her of why she killed. Why she was apart of Augustine.

So she ordered a drink for him, had the waiter tell him a girl had gotten payed for it and watched as he grinned, flattered and looked around for her. He didn’t spot her as she hid herself behind the bar, he shrugged anyways and took the drink in one gulp. His eyes went wide instantly as the liquid quite literally burned through his throat, a mixture of vervain and wolvesbane in his system. He angrily looked around for the culprit but she was out the door in seconds and in her car.

Once he came back outside, Stefan was back and Ray was unconscious.

She followed them to the mountains and followed at a safe distance, stakes and wolvesbane grenades ready. She stayed low and far enough away, occasionally climbing into trees to watch as he snapped each wolves neck.

She watched in boredom as he failed, she already knew why he wasn’t successful. The witches had already told her Esther’s plan. The double curse.

Cruel but necessary.

She watched his tantrum and then she watched as they both dragged themselves back down to the car.

Following them to Chicago was a low point for her. She had dozens of cans of red bulls and protein bars in her car and had been listening to the same list of songs for months. Klaus’s messages were dryer than a dessert and Stefan was losing his spark. He was losing what made him special, the reason she began to trust a vampire. He was proving that all vampires were beasts.

Thankfully for Y/n, she had already met Gloria in the past. So when Y/n came into the bar after Klaus and Stefan had left and explained the situation, Gloria was happy to let Y/n stay with her in the apartment above the bar for a few days. Without Klaus’s knowledge of course.

She was also happy to let Y/n sit and watch the security cameras whilst Klaus and Stefan were downstairs. In return Y/n offered Gloria a favour, whether it be an ingredient to a spell or the death of another supernatural. Either way it didn't bother Y/n, she was just as happy to do either. if anything she craved to kill a vampire, it was her release and this trip was nothing but a bore for her so far.

It became slightly more interesting when Klaus woke his sister; Rebekah. watching them whine at each other was somewhat amusing but it also reminded her of Elena and Jeremy. She had never been away from home for more than two weeks and these past few months had been isolating and lonely.

What definitely sparked her attention however was when they began talking of Elena's necklace. She bit at her finger tips as she watched Stefan's dreadful attempt at behaving oblivious and the way Gloria's eyes darkened when she glanced toward him. y/n knew this would not end well. she was 100% certain that Klaus or Rebekah would figure out what was wrong and so she left with a head start.

She had Damon on the phone in minutes, bag packed and on the road.

"They know Elena's alive and by they i mean Klaus and his wacko sister, that's right another crazy original bloodsucker is coming to town! Get Elena, get Bonnie and get out!" she yelled down the phone as she drove way past the limit.

"woah woah woah, what? Y/n is this a joke? I'm not in town!" Damon whisper shouted back, clearly frustrated

"where the fuck are you?" she borderline growled

"I'm.... I'm with Katherine" he sighed, knowing the pissed off expression she would have on her face in that moment

"Well I'm in traffic! So get home, get Elena back ALIVE and then say goodbye to you dick because I'm gonna chop it off!" she screamed down the phone at him before abruptly ending the call and coming to a standstill as dozens of cars in front of her come to a halt. She clicked the radio on only to be told that a crash had happened a few miles ahead of her. Y/n smacked her head against the horn of her car and groaned loudly.

Klaus must've taken a diversion because she returned late into the night, Stefan was home with zero humanity and an angry blonde bitch. klaus was missing again and Elena was crying in her bed. Y/n laid with her until they both fell asleep.

The next morning Y/n, Elena, Jeremy, Caroline and Damon were piled into the Gilbert's kitchen. They figured out Tyler was sired/Y/n told them that it was obvious. Together they agreed that getting Mikael would be a good idea. Y/n didn't want him to kill Klaus, although it would have probably been the best thing for her. However she did want him to scare Klaus away at least for a while.

The problem was getting Rebekah to agree but Y/n already knew just the secret to spill to get her attention. It was pure luck that the creatures from 'the other side' were able to cross the barrier and that mason revealed the symbols. Y/n decided it would be better if Damon thought that Klaus killing his own mother was discovered by him instead of Y/n. And she thought it would be better if Elena spoke to Rebekah over herself. Y/n didn't really want to form any kind of relationship with the originals if they were going to be here any longer. Especially not Rebekah, she was too girly and obnoxious for Y/n.

So she let the plan fall out. She played her part, even let Caroline dress her up for homecoming just to make her happy. Afterall if Mikael did end up killing Klaus then Caroline would die too and Y/n would rather she went out on a high.

Everything was going fine, she even had a conversation with Mikael himself. He was rather impressed with her actually, he could recognise a vampire hunter within miles.

They then went to the gym, got redirected to the Tyler's, weird but whatever. And then Klaus made his appearance, reclaimed homecoming as a wake and effectively ruined everyone's night.

Y/n tried to cruise through the evening, keeping to herself and drinking shitty punch. She was pretty happy with just waiting until Katherine, posing as Elena pulled Y/n aside and let her in on what she and Stefan were gonna do. Well not everything they would do but that they planned to save Klaus because the hybrids would kill Damon. Y/n reluctantly agreed, much to Katherine's surprise if she were honest but she took the win.

Y/n then returned to the 'part' in annoyance and relief, that familiar confusion settling over her as she grabbed a real drink and stood to the side of the crowds.

Unfortunately for her, Klaus had spotted her and taken her loneliness as an invitation to approach her. and what was even more unfortunate was that Stefan was glaring straight at her, warning her not to fuck this up.

So she looked back to Klaus with an awkward smile. She knew her body was tense and she could feel her fingers twitch with the urge to defend herself. His power radiated like heat. She just knew Augustine would kill to have him in their facilities.

"Y/n, isn't it?" Klaus questioned knowingly.

"mhm" she mumbled, unsure how to behave.

"why are you all alone?" he asked, his eyes flicking up and down the length of her body, lingering on her cleavage without shame.

"I don't like people" she stated simply and he let out a chuckle.

"Ah I understand that" he smiled but she shifted a step away from him which he noticed but didn't comment on though his smile did drop, it was common for people to distance themselves from him. "you know things aren't going to end well tonight" he warned, his voice quiet but clear

"I'm aware" she mumbled, glancing to where Tyler was dragging an annoyed Caroline toward the house

"Then you should really make better decisions about who you side with, sweetheart. You're strong, and smart. I could tell that from the first time seeing you, it didn't take you 5 minutes to figure out that I wasn't Alaric" he murmured to her, his tone changing from threatening to proud though his face remained neutral.

She said nothing in response, she didn't know what he wanted her to do so she just stared back at him, watching his jaw clench and unclench as he watched and waited for her to come to some sort of answer. He knew that realistically he wouldn't received one but he hoped that she would be intelligent enough to at least take his words into consideration. Klaus liked her, he liked that she was observant and that she had the common sense that everyone else in the town didn't have, to stay out the way. If he were honest, he would have liked her to have been on his 'team', he imagined that she probably had a lot of untold knowledge just waiting to be put to use.

If he only knew the half of it.

Klaus was too buried in his thoughts to notice how Y/n's eyes focused on someone behind him, Damon, who mouthed that he needed 10 minutes before Mikael to get there and that Klaus needed to be occupied.

Y/n could have smacked him when she gave him a look as if to ask what to do and he acted out a dance scene. Her eyes flicked between Klaus and past his shoulder, and then just as Klaus let out a sigh and took a step back she cleared her throat and mentally stabbed herself

"Dance with me?" she offered, her hand very unwillingly lifting out for him to take. His brows shot up but he accepted with little hesitation.

She bit at her own tongue to keep her expressions at bay. Almost everything in her wanted to shove him off, stab him, stake him, behead him. She could feel the vervain syringe she had brought with her in the hidden pockets of her dress, she so desperately wanted to weaken him, kill him.

But no, instead she had a half vampire/half werewolf with his hand on her waist and the other holding her own. His werewolf side made his touch warm, almost like a human's. Slowly her hand went to his shoulder, lightly touching the expensive material of his suit jacket.

Her eyes found his awaiting blue ones, she didn't like how they seemed so deep, they reminded her of Damons. They were those obvious blue eyes, they could be beautiful some of the time and terrifying other times. They were the sort of eyes you could fall into, the kind you could swim in, the ones you would lose yourself in and never find a way out.

It was for that reason that she looked away from them and instead glanced around, taking in the music and the people. There were so many people, it didn't take a genius to guess that most of them were with Klaus, hybrids. She hoped this would be the last time she would touch him, be this close to him but deep down she knew better.

She could feel him pull her a little closer so that his cologne engulfed her, the scent was rich and her inhale for a second too long. She could sense Klaus's smirk in response but refused to acknowledge it. Hopefully someone would come get him soon.

Until then, however, she was to stay in the arms of the beast.

He wirled and twirled her around, doing whatever he could to entice a smile or a laugh from her. Klaus knew many dances from over the centuries, some slow and some fast. Some much more erotic than others and he took great pleasure and amusement in changing between them until a melodic laugh was buzzing through the air. His arms held her close as he brought them low and high, round and round. He spun her one last time before dipping her. Her breathing calmed and her laughs faded as she because aware of how his body pressed to hers, how his arms supported her and how close his face was to hers. The warm air from his mouth fanned over her face and the words she needed to say got trapped in her throat.

Thankfully a women cleared her throat which gained Klaus's attention.

"What is it, I'm busy?" he huffed as he lifted Y/n to stand by herself. He frowned when her touch left him and she moved away, a look of self disgust scrunching up her pretty face.

"Someone's here for you... he says his names Mikael" She told him, unbothered by his angry tone.

His demeanour changed in a second . That familiar coldness returning, it reminded Y/n of the vampires she'd seen with no humanity though it was a little different. She wasn't sure what was different about it but something was.

Either way she didn't like it.

And so by the time Klaus had turned around to apologise to Y/n for the interruption, she was out of sight. He sighed and shook his head before going to end his father.

Y/n proceeded to go sit in Katherine's car, turning the engine on and the radio as she waited for the inside to heat up. She was patiently waiting for the doppelgänger and Stefan to arrive and as soon as they were in the car, her foot was down and they were speeding into the night.

Ripper Stefan and Katherine Pierce were the two worst vampires for Y/n to be around. She wanted them dead, they deserved to die. She wished Klaus had died to his sireline went too. She really did...until she remembered that Elena would be broken. Family would always be more important than anything else.

So when Katherine and Stefan started talking about a way to get revenge on Klaus, she left. She went home and to bed so that she wasn't on 'the wrong side'.

Y/n didn't want to be on any of their sides. She didn't want to be in support of any supernaturals.

Which is why she hated to admit that she had some sort of weird friendship to Damon Salvatore who had been relentlessly teasing her on what he witnessed at the homecoming.

"Oh you should have seen them Elena, for a moment it was like I was in Spain watching salsa dancing and the next I was back in the 1800s" He laughed and Y/n lobbed a dart at him

"You wanted him distracted" she grumbled and he grinned while Elena rolled her eyes

"There's distracting and there's seducing" Damon chuckled

"Hey! He started the whole-"

"The whole what love?" Klaus's voice sounded from behind the trio. It was cold and sharp like the icy wind of the winter. He didn't appreciate being played with let alone mocked, especially when she had asked him too dance. Whether it were apart of a plan or not, she could have done something else for his attention. Throwing a drink on his would have taken him a good few minutes to rage about before changing his outfit but she chose a dance.

"Nothing" she answered, standing and walking away from them all, over to the farthest point of the bar so that she couldn't here what they were saying. 'No involvement' she would warm herself.

She knew they were talking about Stefan from the defensive stances the pair were taking but she didn't want to know why, not even for a second.

And she hoped and hoped that Klaus would just leave after his little threats but of course he had to hover.

A drink was placed infront of her and a hand spun her round on the bar stool forcing her to face the beast once again. "Afternoon sweetheart, lovely to see you again after our little moment. You could even call it a date" the sarcasm was clear but the words alone made her nose wrinkle up.

"I'd prefer you didn't" she mumbled and he hummed

"well I'd prefer a lot of things so I suppose we're all unhappy. Now, where's Stefan hm? I know you had something to do with last night, I witnessed you talking suspiciously quietly with Katerina." He placed a threatening hand on her upper arm and both Damon and Elena stood from their places, worry on their faces as they saw a darkness swirl inside Y/n's eyes. "Where is Stefan, and where had he put my family?"

Y/n let out a laugh, she couldn't help it.

"He took the originals?" she questioned, covering her mouth as hiccups of laughter threatened to escape. Damon headed over fast, muttering to Elena to get it the car. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist and let out a nervous chuckle, looking to Y/n with wide eyes but she couldn't stop giggling.

"She's just...going through something right now" He smiled fakely and pulled her out of her seat, holding his own hand over her mouth making her shove him off out of reflex, her voice aggressive as she began to yell

"Get the fuck off you filthy-" she cut herself off when she noticed multiple people staring at her with surprised expressions. Damon simply chuckled and grabbed her elbow, pulling her toward the door

"don't hit me" he whispered quietly as he pushed her through the door and toward the car.

Klaus watched the two in confusion and interest. He certainly hadn't expected her to switch up so fast and he definitely wanted to know what the end of her insult was supposed to be.

His curiosity grew when he went to the Salvatore's to try and see if maybe Stefan was there only to find Damon and Y/n with a supernatural board, pictures and names written with strings running from the to different information.

"God if you and your fucked up brother just pissed off instead of following Elena around like the hungry mosquitoes you are then everything would be sunshine and daisies" Y/n complained and Damon rolled his eyes as he linked Stefan to the originals via some red wool.

"What and you would have carried on hunting and slaughtering vampires while Jeremy, Elena and Jenna would obliviously move on with their lives and eventually Elena would have settled down with good ol' Matt Donovon?" he mocked and Klaus's brows furrowed.

"Sounds better than my life right now" she mumbled and Damon rolled his eyes

"Surely this is every crazy vampire hunters dream?" he questioned "cmon think about it, you're surrounded by the oldest vampires, a famous ripper, hybrids and best of all...you got me?" he grinned and she groaned, dropping onto the couch.

"I know and it just makes me feel murderous all the time" she whined "and gross and contaminated" she gagged and he dramatically huffed.

"Come on, you can attack me" he offered with a playful glint and she let out a mocking 'ha ha'. "hey no come on, how about you get to stab me a few times and I get a shot of your blood?"

"Damon?"

"yes?"

"I would rather rip my own heart out then let a soulless , leech anywhere near my blood" she sneered and he laughed with a clap.

"How did it take me so long to realise you undying hatred for what was it?-my kind?" he raised his brows and she glared at him

"These past few months have done nothing but confirm my every belief. You and everyone like you are monsters" she whispered, enjoying how his expression faltered "unsavable, unloveable-"

"shut up" he uttered, veins appearing under his eyes making her lips curve up

"see? you can't even control yourself"

"says the girl who nearly lost it in the middle of the grill" he quipped before walking out and leaving her alone.

Klaus's mind was spinning with new knowledge. It made sense to him but he still wasn't exactly expecting it. Either way, he would find a way to put this to his advantage.

(Okay I'm going to make this part one and then from here Klaus and Y/n will have more time together and start to fall for one-another. I know this is a little different to my usual stories as I never usually give so much build up/back story but I had a lot of ideas and wanted to share those with you. So thanks for reading and I hope you loo forward to the next part/parts)

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leejenowrld · 4 months

Note

a question to all the mfal characters who aren’t yn and jeno

have you ever witnessed them doing something cute and romantic and thought “damn they’re kinda adorable” ??

wait this question is so cute 🥹🥹

warning - BIG SMUT, threesome implication

donghyuck - once i walked into them and i was gonna leave but i can’t lie, i secretly stood the side and just watched, shit was so hot. i was so turned on

yn - [hits donghyuck] what the fuck?

donghyuck - it was so hot. you can’t blame me. it was like i was watching some irl sexy promo. jeno kept slamming his cock in and out of her, like every minute. i got hard cos i just saw the wetness leaving yn’s pussy and slicking up every time jeno pulled out, only for him to slam in again, and all of these juices and milky strings would attach to his juicy juicy cock and then he’d fuck it all into yn again. the sounds of yn’s wet pussy… jesus. he’d do it through their orgasms as well. i left after 5 minutes but i heard it for hours, these dirty cute animals were doing this all night long. i remember thinking “shit, they’re cute, i respect them.” yn kept screaming daddy and jeno kept slapping her ass and boobs, it was genuinely the best sight i’ve ever seen. i dream of it. yn kept begging jeno to cum in her and me and jeno were both a bit confused cus ??? what else has he been doing the entire night

yn - [shocked, jeno holding her back as she’s ready to throw hands and kill donghyuck] you just stood there and watched us?? fucking perv

jeno - [unfazed and turned on] i remember that hyuck, i fucked her so dumb she kept asking me to cum in her although that was what i had been doing for hours. once my girls hit her 4th orgasm of the session, she starts chatting shit

donghyuck - shits so hot

jeno - next time we do that you can join [winks at donghyuck and blows him a kiss, hisses when yn flicks her finger against his forehead with force.]

donghyuck - [facing yn, licking his lips and palming his bulge] u know me and jeno have kissed before, right?

yn - don’t pull this shit with me now, jeno’s kissed half the people on campus, i know. don’t fucking remind me.

jeno - baby, it’s more like 3/4 of campus

yn - that’s it, no sex for three weeks.

jeno - [smirks playfully] i’ll just fuck donghyuck

yn - [copies jeno’s smirk] i’ll just kill you

jaemin - yeah, i won’t ever tell them but they’re pretty cute and melt my heart

jeno - please, you tell me that all the time

jaemin - anyways, when yn and jeno graduated they both got a lot of opportunities to do internships abroad which means they have to be apart for a few weeks. they’re both so smart and care about their future so ofc they won’t pass up on the opportunities. it’s quite sad but equally heart warming when i see them say their goodbyes. they’ll hug each other at the airport for so long and it’s just sweet seeing jeno comfort her because yn gets really emotional but somehow jeno can help control it? i think it’s a superpower, i’ll hear or see yn crying her eyes out and then jeno comes up to her and hugs her and holds her and they share a few kisses, jeno whispers some sweet shit to her, he just is an overall comfort to her and it only takes a few mins for her to go back to normal.

heejin - once jeno brought me and yn tickets to some play we had been geeking out about. at first jeno wasn’t gonna come because he probably just wanted to give me and yn friendship time but yn didn’t really read the room and begged him to come 😭😭 i mean tbf i told him to come to because he’s also a fan of this play. he didn’t listen to me but yn gave him puppy dog eyes and smiled and worked her magic so he just had to say yes lmao. i’m used to third wheeling them lmao but they were pretty cute that night, they didn’t make me feel sick. it’s the little things they do, the eye contact, yn truly looks up at him and she’s the physical description of this emoji ‘🥹’ you can literally see their pupils dilate when they look at each other. you can feel the love in the atmosphere. it makes me believe that love actually is all around.

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koorminii · 2 years

Text

WHAT LIES IN THE DARK — bang chan (m)

What was supposed to be a chill night alone turns into a fight for your life; Chan has been watching you, waiting for the best moment to strike, and he’s finally found the right time — but why are you so utterly enticing?

pairing: bang chan x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers (?)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: CHAN IS A SERIAL KILLER, NO EXPLICIT MURDER SCENES, predator and prey dynamics, mentions of murder/violence, breeding, mating press, degrading, mentions of stalking, morally grey character, dumbification, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, oh and they have sex outside… on the ground. lmk if i’m missing anything !!!

authors note: I helped my friend sisi write this for her tumblr account, and she was nice enough to let me post my own partially edited version for chan!! so if you like jujutsu kaisen and wanna read this twice then go follow her at @kugokizs !! also holy shit i haven’t posted in almost two months 😭 the amount that i missed you all and missed writing is insane and the never-ending support even throughout my absence and inactivity means so much, i genuinely could never imagine anyone, let alone all of you, could like my writing as much as it seems you do, so thank you! i hope everyone is doing well 🫶

Bang Chan is a very sinister man.

He holds grudges, is very keen on practicing “eye for an eye”, and he holds dear his power over weak, vulnerable, young women. He prowls for the pleasure of it, for the thrill — to hear them beg for mercy, for one more chance. They beg on their knees as if he’s a God, the bringer of all evil, the grim reaper, the devil himself. And, Chan thinks, maybe he is. After all, who else could invoke such fear in people. Who else could cause someone to shiver just at the mention of his name? To run for the hills at any sign of danger. Who else could do what he does? No one, and that’s what makes him enjoy it even more.

Bang Chan is a very sinister man, and right now he has his eyes on you. It’s been months, bumping into you at the grocery store, handing you things that you’ve dropped accidentally, holding the door open for you, dropping food on your doorstep — he’s seen it all. Late nights with friends, early morning at university, skipping lunch to study in the library… Chan has been there. Watching, waiting, prowling. Ever since the first time he saw you he’s wanted you, to add you to his ever growing collection, to keep you, to make you his. You’re his. And the only one between you both who didn’t know that yet, was you.

He has a foot buried in your grass, a cap hanging low on his head and a knife tucked inside his jacket. He makes sure to move with precision, watching out for the automated sprinklers and for any animals that might come looking. After all this time he knows the routine well. He knows when you’re staying home all night, what time you usually shower, when you eat, everything. He knows you’re a naturally anxious person, jumping at any sudden movements or noises, and he also knows you’re careless. Blasting music on flimsy headphones, falling asleep to the sound in your ear, oblivious to the world around you. Oblivious to the devil creeping on your doorstep.

He crouches down low, your blinds open just enough that he can see you plopped down on your couch with a bowl of ice cream in hand and a silly movie playing on the TV. Your legs are curled up, oversized pajama pants falling over the soles of your feet, and your attention solely on what’s playing in front of you. Chan’s been inside your house before. On the rare days where he wasn’t following you around he made his way through the place, memorizing the layout, seeing which rooms were the most lived-in, taking his time to appreciate your bedroom and all it had to offer.

Drawers upon drawers of lingerie greeted him when he peaked inside — he didn’t think you had it in you. His fingerprints would’ve been all over the place if not for gloves, his face on every camera if he hadn’t known all the blindspots, and thank God you didn’t have cameras inside, because then it’d only make it harder for him, and if you wanted something a little less painful when your time was up, it was best you didn’t piss him off.

Though Chan thinks he might play with you a bit. You’re interesting, just anxious enough to get by yet careless and reckless enough to get caught in a stupid situation. You’re pretty — innocent in the sexiest way possible. You look like you’d go dumb for a taste of his cock and that’s exactly what he likes most about you, but he knows you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and he appreciates that, too.

The moon shines a ghastly glow over his features right as the end credits of the movie start to run, and that’s when he decides it’s time to play. He picks up a smooth, round, pebble — no bigger than a quarter, and throws it so that it hits the window pane. He crouches down just the smallest bit lower, eyes peeking over the blinds, and he trusts the darkness to obscure him. He knows that you won’t ever get close enough to actually look through them, and he’s right. Always so easily frightened, like a little lamb. You freeze where you’re sitting, head whipping around to look at where the sound came from, and you pause for only a few moments, watching and waiting to see if it comes again. At least a minute passes before you turn back to the TV, curling in on yourself and tucking your lip between your teeth.

Chan can barely stifle the chuckle that threatens to leave his lips, it feels like childish glee watching you get so scared from a measly little rock against your window, but he does it again, throwing it harder now, and the sound echoes so loudly that he can hear it bounce back from inside your living room. This time you stand up, looking back towards the window and stepping forward, head tilting downwards as you try to see through the blinds. You squint at the glare from your lights and otherwise stay silent. Chan is sure your heart is beating erratically, your hands starting to shake, and he thanks God that you have so many windows. You don’t sit back down, instead looking around the room and muting the TV. You stay like that for a long time, you’ve always been so overly paranoid, and it fills Chan with immense satisfaction to know that he’s the one doing this to you.

He walks away from the window, allowing you to rotate methodically on uneasy feet and a rapidly beating heart, creeping around to the back door and picking the locks. He’s already deactivated the back camera and dropped a cat by your front porch so it didn’t seem too suspicious that you weren’t getting alerts. He knows that’s it’s rare anything ever triggers the back camera, and you feel too secure with the gate locking it from the outside. He’s easily bypassed those barriers, and now he simply opens the door. He knows you have sensors to tell you when the door has been open and shut, and he didn’t bother shutting those off. He wants to see how scared you can really get.

He shuts the door and slips into the closet, covering his lone figure with various jackets and scarves that hang from the hooks. There’s boxes and bottles of cleaning supplies piled at the bottom, and they block his legs from view. He’s still, silent, and patient. He hears your footsteps rushing towards the door, your heavy breathing, your frantic whispers of “Oh God,” and his eyes all but roll back in undeniable pleasure. He’s going to ruin you.

Your footsteps get nearer before they stop, you’re most likely looking through the window of the now closed back door, hands trembling and knees weak in fear. You’re probably on the verge of tears, barely holding in a whimper. He doesn’t hear you step away, but he can see your shadow from under the door. Hmm. You’re trying to be cautious now, are you? Chan already knows this routine. You’ll run to grab your phone, call someone, try to get in your car and drive away. Maybe grab a large kitchen knife just in case, but what are the chances of you actually using it? Chan has practice, he’s skilled, he’s used to this. You, a lone studious girl who’s paranoid but way too careless for her own good, has never stabbed anyone in her life. Has never even imagined it, so what’s the chances of you dropping the knife before it can even plunge into him? Maybe trying to get away with a scratch in the arm or a stab to the leg, but Chan has enough scars for that to not even matter. He’ll keep coming and there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.

But he’s gonna let you try, let you think there’s a chance for you to run for the hills, that maybe you’ll get to some help in time. He’ll let that relieved smile flit itself upon your face before he comes back to rip that hope from your body, just to do it all over again until the fight leaves you completely. Maybe he’ll let you reach someone in time, someone innocent, and then kill them right in front of you. Make sure you realize that this is your fault, you did this, you put this innocent person in danger. You murderer. You killed them. You.

Chan realizes he has a lot to think about.

Your chest pounds with the rapid beating of your heart. Your legs barely hold your weight and threaten to crumble with every movement, shaking every time you stop and wobbling uncontrollably when you run. You grab a knife from the kitchen counter and run back to the living room and grab your phone. It all started with the random sounds coming from the window. They came out of nowhere, pounding harder and harder until they stopped completely. You had thought you saw someone moving behind the blinds but chalked it up to paranoia. It’s been raining a lot more recently, so maybe it was just the rain pouring down onto the windows.

You tried to go back to your movie after that, you had clutched your phone tightly despite reassuring yourself multiple times that it was nothing. There was nothing there. You were almost able to relax. Almost, before your security system alerted you of the back door opening. At that moment it felt like your heart had lurched out of your chest, as if the shock and fear had paralyzed and crippled you completely. The silence was suddenly too thick — too loud, and it was all you could do to attempt to heave yourself up and off the couch to investigate. You already knew you should never venture deeper, never look for the source of the sound, but you needed to see.

When you got to the back door it was already shut. You’d ventured on tippy toes to look through the small window and there was nothing there. Yet you couldn’t stop the way your breath left you in heavy gasps, the acrid smell of fear and anxiousness seeping from you in waves. You didn’t forget the closet right in front of the door, but you knew you’d never be able to open the door without shaky limbs. If there was someone in there, you’d let them leave of their own accord. You , however, were leaving immediately. You slowly stepped away, looking up to the ceiling and clutching your lip tightly between your teeth. Sweat formed at the top of your mouth and you felt like you were going to throw up. Your throat ached, your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you could collapse at any second.

You crossed the living room with amble speed, grabbing a jacket from the hook by your front door and running outside. Rain dropped down in an angered flurry, beating the pavement with troubled fists, and your shoes were soaked with water before you could fully cross your front lawn. You scrambled to get the car door open, throwing yourself inside ungracefully. The first thing you did was look in the backseat before locking the doors and wasted no time taking off out your driveway and into the streets. You wanted to play music, blast it even, it was what calmed you always and without it you were leaving yourself vulnerable to the fear you’d been trying to ignore. You’d be able to get away — far, far, away — and sometime in the future you’d forget this night ever happened. You’d contact the authorities, move somewhere tropical maybe, and pray they never came looking.

The fear was slowly starting to easen, there were no cars following you, no weird men in the road, nothing but the stars and the moon and the lone sound of rain. You were slowly starting to relax, allowing yourself to take a few deep breaths, before a hazard sign started blaring on your dashboard.

Flat tire.

Flat tire !??

You kept driving, desperate for a few more miles between you and home, but your car didn’t appreciate that, and you came to a stop. A fear-mongering, bone-chilling, stop.

You couldn’t afford to waste time. You had to keep moving. You jumped out the car, a tight grip on your knife in one hand and your phone in the other. Your feet splashed in large puddles, the streets lined with thick trees that had never looked so imposing until now. A quick look around told you that you were alone, but you couldn’t be sure. You kept moving, rushing but not moving too fast where the sounds of your splashing would drown any other noises out. Your hand curled tightly on the knife as if it was a lifeline, and your phone was inside your pocket — kept safe from the rain. Streetlights shined down from above, blinding white lights that illuminated the entire area before you, and you were grateful for it but loathed it all at the same time. Bright lights mean you could see everything around you, but it also meant anything around could see you too.

Your breath was shaky, every exhale felt like it would be your last, but you didn’t stop moving. The brushing of trees or a snap of a branch would make you jump and squeal in fear just to see it was a product of the wind or your own feet pressing against wood. Ahead you could see the shadows of houses, loud and imposing in structure, and your legs carried you faster with a new found determination. Your vision was blurry with tears of relief and raindrops that sat on your eyelashes, just to be blocked by something — something warm and soft, something sturdy, something breathing.

You couldn’t help the shrill scream that left your lips, but it was drowned out by the storm anyway. You stomped hard on his boot and sliced, not sure if you hurt him but giving yourself a chance to run away. Your legs pumped with adrenaline, your eyes wide in fright. Your grip on the knife only got even tighter, your nails embedding themselves lightly in your palm, but you had to keep going. Any noises became muffled as you ran, the sounds of trees rustling in the wind, rain slapping against the pavement, your feet slamming against the ground. His own feet moving leisurely behind you. It all became nothing but background noise to the pounding of your heart.

You screamed at the top of your lungs but it was to no use. Every clap of thunder, every downpour against shut windows, every burst of lightning fought for the right to be heard and you were losing. Your legs never stopped moving, you never stopped screaming, but you were reaching a dead end. There was nowhere to go. If you stopped to knock on someone’s door there was no guarantee they’d come open it, and it would allow him to catch up to you way too quickly. You couldn’t hide in any abandoned homes or under any structures because he’d surely see you, and that’d only trap you. Briefly, you contemplated running into the forest, but it was so dark. You didn’t know where you were going, you’d probably get lost and lead yourself right into his arms.

“There you are, little lamb.”

The whimper that leaves your lips has Chan grinning in delight. He surges forward, trapping you between strong arms and a broad chest, pressing against you tightly and dragging you backwards. You claw at his arms, kick your feet, and use the knife to slash at any part of his body that you could. You didn’t make it easy, and you could hear him growl in frustration. He tipped the knife out of your hands and then gripped your arm with a frightening intensity, you bit your lip to stop the cry of pain from leaving your mouth.

“Stop fighting.”

Ugh, get off me!” You cried, and you bit at the skin of his arm, hard, and he pushed you off, allowing you to fall flat on your back. You groaned, rolling over on your side before a dark shadow loomed over you. You winced, your eyes shutting in fear before strong fingers gripped your chin.

“Not so fiesty anymore? We were having lots of fun,” He cooed, a devilish grin forming on his — and you hate to say it — near perfect features. The only blemish on his face was the long scar over his eye, and even that made him look attractive. You lost your breath for a short moment, staring into unforgiving eyes and at pearly white teeth, before you came back to your senses and jerked your knee upwards into a firm abdomen. When the man didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt you did it again, but this time you used your arms to push him backwards as well. He stumbled just a little, but it was enough for you to jump to your feet and start running back in the direction you came.

“You’ll stop if you know what’s good for you,” The man grumbled, but you didn’t stop moving. You wouldn’t. You didn’t bother screaming for help this time and ran straight through unforgiving trees and underbrush. You weren’t worried about getting lost anymore and could only focus on losing him and getting away.

Except he must’ve known, because gone was the leisurely pace he’d originally held. He ran through the trees with crippling speed, and it was all you could do not to yelp in fear and keep moving. But it didn’t seem like any speed you took was fast enough, for he kept getting closer and closer. It was just your luck that you’d trip over the roots of a large tree, falling flat on your face. You attempted to scramble backwards before he could reach you, but your limbs were growing tired, your brain was ready to shut off, and not even the adrenaline could keep the paralyzing fear from your veins. you whimpered as a large hand grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the mud and leaves.

“Come on, little lamb, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

All you could do is bite your lip to stop the whimpers and cries from flooding out. You squeezed your eyes shut, stiffening when soft lips brushed against your skin. “We can have fun, can’t we?” He murmured, and your breath left you in a shudder. Calloused hands rubbed against the skin exposed by the lift of your shirt, and small puffs of breath knocked against the shell of your ear. “Do you wanna have fun?”

Your heart kicks up a notch when he slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold.

“Look at me,” He growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with desire. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a foreign feeling surging through you, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s a little awkward with your apprehension, your fear, your desire to just give up — all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. He licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into submission.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," He hums, pressing your thighs apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again.

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your pants, slipping under the hem and unbuttoning the fabric. When he pulls your pants down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, the cold feeling of his fingers. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Chan lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold.

"Pretty little lambs deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Chan starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Aren’t you scared?” Chan murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Chan’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the ground at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

You allow him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off your ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to press against your cheek you yelp. It’s okay. You’re okay. Right?

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect him— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to pleasure you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly lets his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it. God, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Chan’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at you through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dips his head down, and your hands automatically perch themselves on his shoulders. He grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moaned, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slightly. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groaned, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He moved his mouth from yours to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

One hand supports his weight on the ground by your head while the other is preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stares down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groans. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever a boy you liked would come bother you. It intensifies when Chan wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging grass from under you.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you. Having him stick himself inside you.

“Relax,” Chan murmurs, pressing his mouth to your cheek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Dark eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Chan watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his forehead, and he sinks back into your inviting walls with another roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Chan’s chest expands with a satisfied breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known, before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the ground below you.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Chan moans—every twitch and squeeze of your heat leaving him breathless. “Come on, little lamb,” He groans, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and his groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all him. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And you tense up, your body convulsing and arching upwards as his thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the grass and debris and Chan’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless. You feel when the man gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwear back on. You hear it when he sighs, something deep and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. Yet, somehow, it all comes back to you in a flash. You sit up, head throbbing, and stare up at him. Wide-eyed and fearful.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

He grins, “I think we can work something out.”

#stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bangchan smut #bang chan x female reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 7 months

Text

“I Love Taking Risks”

Returning for the second season of his hit comedy series Our Flag Means Death this month, Rhys Darby chats to us about becoming ‘The Gentleman Pirate’.

It was the surprise hit of 2022 no-one had on their bingo card. Loosely based on the real-life exploits of Stede ‘The Gentleman Pirate’ Bonnet (Rhys Darby), Our Flag Means Death tells the hilarious and heartfelt story of the wealthy Barbadian landowner who gave it all up for life as a pirate in the 1700s.

After encountering the actually not-so-terrifying Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) of legend, who teaches him how to be a fearsome pirate – to little effect – in exchange for wisdom about the finer things in life, the two formed an unexpected romantic connection.

Of course, with the first season ending with the pair sadly going their separate ways, creator and writer David Jenkins previews things will be challenging for our star-crossed lovers in season two: “I think [we’ll be] watching… both reorient themselves. This is their first love… You’re rocked when that happens. You go into a crisis.” With the second season premiering this month, picking up a short time after the first, Darby sat down with FOXTEL magazine to give us the lowdown.

What’s your take on ‘The Gentleman Pirate’?

It’s an interesting role because this is a guy who has a midlife crisis, leaves his wife and kids, just runs out in the middle of the night and creates a pirate crew, heads off into the sunset. And in order to sort of get to grips with who would do that, you need to have someone play the role that you’ve got to root for but, at the same time, you go, ‘Is he crazy? Why has he done this? Does he not love his wife and kids?’ So, you know, I did a bit of reading about him and tried to get into that mindset as to why he would do such a thing. And I think what I got to was just midlife crisis and boredom, and he had the wealth to change his life.

Are you a risk-taker yourself?

I love taking risks; I could drop everything and suddenly fly to Mars, but I’d be sitting in the spaceship before launch and thinking about my kids and I would have opened the door and run back to them.

So there was something there, some deep-seated darkness in his soul that led him to that point. He’s a complicated guy. I’m glad I had to rise to the challenge and try to pull that off.

Will Stede ever be respected by his crew, do you think?

Yes. I think he will be. People did respect him eventually because he did become a decent pirate. If you look in the annals of the pirates and all the booty they took, there’s lists of who did the best and all that kind of stuff, and Stede’s up there.

Do you think he had any regrets about choosing that life in the end?

That’s a good question. If I was to guess I would say no, because he wanted the adventure. He regretted, in the end, not taking the pardon when he could have – the King put out a pardon and he said, ‘If any of you pirates come in and drop your swords now, you’ll be spared.’ A lot of them did sign that they would do it and then just went back to pirating.

Even in the end, Stede tried to get out of it – he really begged and pleaded and wrote letters to the King saying, ‘Please, I’ll do anything.’ But they wanted to make an example of him: it doesn’t matter how wealthy you are, you do what you did, you’re gonna hang. So they got him in the end. But they won’t get me!

You seem to have a knack for picking great roles. What does your process entail?

Yeah, it depends what you’re doing. You know, I’m not at a point where offers are rolling in left, right and centre. So you still do things because you need the money. But I’ve been lucky that my uniqueness has only really gifted me roles that suit me, for the most part. Usually they’re smaller roles and I do a lot of guest starring on comedy shows. Also, I have been lucky enough to do a lot of voicework through various animation channels and video games and things.

A few years ago, people started to realise that, and it’s through working with Taika and a few others in the comedy industry, that if you’re going to hire me, he’s going to give you a bit more than what’s on the paper. And he’s going to do it in his manner and his way, and that’s what you’re sort of paying for.

And so that meant that I wouldn’t get a lot of roles, but the ones that I did do, I would always shine in. So thank you, universe, for giving me anything.

Source: Foxtel Magazine Australia (October issue)

#rhys darby #taika waititi #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #foxtel australia #foxtel magazine

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ssaflorencem · 6 months

Text

The thrill of killing you| BAU x Unsub reader

Introduction and about me:

I am new to tumblr, I go by she/her pronouns.

This story will be about an unsub reader and about the majority of BAU but will focus on Aaron Hotchner and Dr Spencer Reid.

In this story they reader (aka you) will be speaking both English, Dutch, and Swedish (I will translate all Dutch and Swedish into English)

Y/N is AFAB in this story.

There will be us of Y/N, cuss words and maybe smut (more likely then not). There will be mentions of murder.

While we know the BAU would most likely be able to catch reader quickly, this is going to be a bit like cat and mouse though.

There will be a little bit of Cat Adams mentioned and, in this world, Aaron never left criminal minds (but we still have Luke Alvez)

Reader was born in the Netherlands to Swedish and Dutch parents. She moved to America at the age of ten. (that’s why both these languages will be used)

Chapter warnings: Animal death (of dears been hunted). Mention of guns (hunting rifle and glock). Badly written. Mentions of SA (it’s not graphic at all). Not proof read, sorry about that :)

A/N: there is no mention of the BAU in this chapter. This is basically a background story of the reader. The next chapter will include the BAU.

Chapter One: To the end

It wasn’t hard doing what you do. You had learnt how to hunt at an early age, it was fun. The thrill of going out with only a hunting rifle was exciting to you. You left your phone at your house; you didn’t want any distractions. See, hunting deer was a nice way to blow of steam, that moment when the life of an innocent animal was in your hands, you felt like a god. That deer couldn’t beg for its life, it couldn’t ask for mercy, it could just look at you.

So now when the people you are hunting could beg and plea with you, ‘please I don’t know why you are doing this, I’ve done nothing wrong.’ All you could do was laugh. Sure, tell yourself you haven’t done anything wrong, tell me you’re innocent. Every person you had killed had done something wrong. They had hurt someone else and thought they could get away with it, and you could not let that happen.

Now the thrill of the hunt was better than ever, you know that phase where people say you’ll never experience a high, like your first ever high, that was a lie to you because every kill you did, brought you a sense of justice to this world, made you feel like you were doing something important. You no longer hunted deer, there was pity and sorrow in their eyes. Eyes that just gleamed innocence.

The only thing that was really different now to when you were just killing deer, is you did bring your phone. You brought it so you could listen to music. I mean it was a powerplay, you watched them cry and beg for their life, and you just put your headphones in. You watched how powerless they became; you saw the hope leave their eyes. And it felt amazing.

Your first kill (other than the deer) was a man called Michael O’Stevens. He seemed like a nice man, but he had sexually assaulted around 30 women, but after each one of those crimes he had committed he would go home to his wife and daughter. You couldn’t let him get away with that, but you wanted his wife to know why he had to die, why she was never going to see her husband again. So, you did the only logically thing and wrote her a letter.

“Dear Mrs O’Stevens.

I am sorry to inform you about your husband like this, but I can’t let you see who I am.

Your husband is not a nice man, he is not who you think he is. I’ve watched him, I’ve seen how he treats you and your daughter, but outside your house he is a completely different man.

He finds vulnerable women and hurts them. He takes them in his care and abuses them. He then throws them out like trash, like he hasn’t just caused them a great deal of trauma.

So, I’m sorry to write you this, but tomorrow will be the last time you see your husband alive. I won’t torture him, though he deserves it. I will just make him feel like those women, and then pull a trigger.

It may you hurt you, you may grieve him, but you deserve better.”

You knew better than to hand write it and send it through mail. You hand delivered it to her house in the early morning.

Killing Mr O’stevens was the easy part, but you needed a way of getting him away from the town he was living in.

So, the day after you sent Mrs O’stevens her letter, you dressed up like you had spent the night out drinking and walked down a road you knew Mr O’stevens frequently travelled. Your plan worked; I mean he was attracted to you like a moth to a flame.

He rolled down his car window and shouted;

“Hey, need a ride?”

You knew that you had to play hard to get, you knew that’s what he liked.

“Oh no, I am alright, thank you though.”

“I insist. It’s cold and quite frankly its dangerous to be walking alone.”

“I really don’t want to bother you; I live a far distance away.”

“You are not bothering me, please get in.”

“Erm, Okay.”

With that your plan was rolling into motion. You hid your gun, a .40 caliber glock, under your skirt. Though it was different to what you were used to, you couldn’t conceal a rifle.

He put his hand on your thigh and whisper in a low tone;

“I think you should repay me for been so kind to you. Don’t you?”

Oh, had he just asked the wrong person that.

“No, no I don’t.”

“Really? You think I should just allow you a free ride?”

“If you want me to get out, I can. But I am not repaying you shit, you offered.”

“Woah pretty lady, calm down. You only have to give me head, that’s all I want.”

“I am not giving you head.”

“Well, I didn’t really mean to ask you. I’m going to make you.”

He really was a piece of work.

“No, you are not. I am going to make you pay for all the other women you have hurt, you’re a sick son of a bitch. Now shut the fuck up and keep driving.”

You pulled the gun from under your skirt and held it to his head.

“I bet you think your wife is going to miss you. Huh? She won’t. Your daughter won’t even remember you. And your victims they’ll be glad you’re dead.”

He didn’t say a word for a while, he was crying though.

 After around 20 minutes he spook:

“Why me? How did you find me?”

“I don’t reveal my secrets. Now keep going, you only have another 10 minutes left.”

You had made sure the spot you were in was quiet. No one would catch you in the act, it was the perfect spot.

He didn’t say another word, not until he was out of the car and on his knees.

“Please, please don’t kill me?”

“It’s a little too late to be begging for your life.”

“Please I am sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“You won’t do it again, because you won’t be alive.”

With that you put the gun to his temple and saw his eyes fill with fear.

“Maybe before you die, if you beg for forgiveness, you won’t face a miserable afterlife.”

With that you pulled the trigger. You saw the life drain from him. It was satisfying, you felt the same rush you had felt from killing those deer.

Previous part | Next part

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #emily prentiss #spencer reid #behavioural analysis unit #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jenifer jareau #luke alvez #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid smut

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textfromthelookout · 1 year

Note

just read ur entire essay about vegeta and like.. goddamn you just gave me a whole new perspective on that funky little man. i love the way it was written and organized

ALSO ALSO i read this bit and am begging u to expand on this concept it sounds so interesting /gen

Oh you would, would you. I am delighted to oblige.

So. Super Saiyan. A transformation available to Saiyans past certain power thresholds that, while more or less freely accessible after first awakening to it, needs a trigger to become accessible in the first place. Over the course of Z in its many adaptations, we see the first awakenings of Goku, Vegeta, Future Trunks, and Gohan onscreen. Goten, Trunks, and Future Gohan are also Super Saiyans, but we don’t know for sure how that came about. Goten and Trunks in particular are why I say that Super Saiyan (more specifically, the first time you access Super Saiyan) can be read as a trauma response, because there’s no real evidence this is the case on their parts. You can make an argument for them, but in general I choose to believe they’re exceptions to this take, so I won’t be discussing them.

Oh and as for Cabba, Caulifla, and Kale…… they’re literally from an alternate universe. Super Saiyan just has different rules there. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Getting back on track. Goku’s the obvious place to start, so let’s look at him first. In the entirety of Dragon Ball (that I’ve seen), not counting the comedic needle bit in that one episode of GT, Goku has only ever been seen crying three times. Once was his reunion with Grandpa Gohan in early Dragon Ball. Once was in the anime’s version of the Tournament of Power, after Roshi’s near-death incident.

Once was at the beginning of King Piccolo, when he finds Krillin dead. King Piccolo saga is a little infamous for the sudden tonal whiplash—yeah, Tien breaks Yamcha’s leg in the tournament just prior, but they make up about it and it’s not as dire as someone dying. What’s really striking to me about it is Goku’s reaction. He’s more upset than we’ve ever seen him. And he loses worse than we ever see him lose because of it. Sure, in the end everything is put right, but.

But, the thing about trauma is that it makes time go weird. Fast forward about ten years. It’s suddenly happening again. His best friend is dead. He couldn’t do anything to stop it. He doesn’t know that Porunga can revive people who have already died once. As far as Goku knows, Krillin’s gone for good this time. And he watched it happen and watched Freeza laugh about it.

And he reacts essentially the same way. Only this time, he’s orders of magnitude stronger than he was when he was 15, and he has the experience and the wherewithal to control himself somewhat better. Emphasis on somewhat, because it’s very clear that he’s worried about going completely off the deep end in the grips of this power. And he’s right to be! I’m willing to bet money that in Gohan’s whole life, Goku has never pulled the ‘I’m your father, don’t talk back to me’ card on him, and that’s one of the smallest ways this power changes him. When he’s fighting Freeza, he’s a lot more like Vegeta, down to the way he smirks. He’s condescending. He’s brutal. I’ve seen comments to the effect of ‘Freeza’s not fighting Goku anymore—now, Freeza’s fighting Kakarot’ and that’s truly what it feels like.

I could go on, but the particulars of the Namek fight aren’t the important part. The important part is that Goku recognizes how badly that whole thing fucked him up and stays on Yardrat for a year explicitly to get a handle on Super Saiyan before returning home. He knows that if he loses control like that again, there’s a very real possibility he’ll end up hurting someone he cares about, or worse, becoming someone he really doesn’t want to be. (Call it a reach, it definitely is one, but I like to believe Goku picked up Instant Transmission while he was there so he’ll never be too late or too far away to help ever again.)

Vegeta’s case is less… visible? So, much of this is going to be purely my extrapolation. If you take him at his word, Vegeta triggered Super Saiyan with the sheer amount of hatred he felt toward himself for his inadequacy and like. Hello. That’s already a giveaway. I don’t believe he’s outright lying, but I also believe he’s simplifying matters a little. Or a lot. Per My Last Long-Winded Essay, he only gets that far because he leaves Earth entirely for areas uninhabited, which is good for him in some respects and bad for him in others.

The sweet irony of it is that it was Vegeta’s own efforts that locked him out of Super Saiyan. He tried to brute-force his way into it singlemindedly, in the belief that he was simply not strong enough, but Super Saiyan’s trigger is raw, overwhelming emotion. It can be one very clear emotion, or several different ones mixed up, but it’s emotion. It doesn’t answer to logic by its very nature, and frankly, neither does trauma. So Vegeta’s removed all the distractions to his training, yes, but in doing so he’s also removed all the distractions from everything else. Without anybody else around, he doesn’t have anything to get himself out of his own head, so now he’s got a whole universe of space for two and a half decades’ worth of repressed shit to come raging out. Funny how the minute he lets himself feel actual emotions other than the ones he wants everyone to see, the transformation explicitly tied to and powered by emotion rears its head, huh.

Vegeta makes several really dumb decisions once he gets back on Earth, in sharp contrast to the way he handles himself on Namek before he’s face-to-face with Freeza. On Namek, he’s careful to fly under the radar whenever he can, which is why I love the fit he launches into when he realizes Gohan played him, because that’s his control slipping. He’s opportunistic and sneaky and it’s clear he’s doing his damnedest to get what he wants without having to fight people who can kill him. He doesn’t hear the Ginyu Force is coming and rush off to challenge them, he’s like ‘oh shit’ and immediately fucks off elsewhere. I can only make sense of the way he acts during the androids/Cell as a symptom of his need to prove himself.

And make no mistake—it is a need, not a want. The power’s meaningless without people to witness and acknowledge it, the same way the authority of royalty is. His chosen course of action, though, is sort of like painting over rotten wood, if that makes any sense. Letting himself get high off the power, pretending that everything went exactly the way it should have gone from the start, refusing to acknowledge all of his Issues more than passingly. Furthermore, his victory must be complete and unquestionable: that’s why he lets Cell take Android 18. He can’t just… not lose, he has to win. Anything less is anathema to him. You see, he hasn’t yet figured out that he can survive without it.

Okay sorry that got a little in the weeds but I hope you get what I was driving at there. Vegeta’s a mess and talking about him makes me Unstable. Let’s move on.

Of the main four Saiyans, I think Future Trunks’ awakening is the simplest to understand: his trigger is that moment of pure, crushing grief when he finds Gohan dead in the rain. And it’s no wonder. Aside from Gohan and his mother, who does Trunks even talk to in that timeline? We never see him with friends, not until Super. Trunks’ ‘You were everything to me’ in the dub version of the special might be only debatably canon but it’s hardly an exaggeration. Friend. Teacher. Comrade. Brother. Perhaps even a father figure, in some ways. Certainly the only other one of his kind—half-human, half-alien from a long-dead warrior race. There was literally nobody else in the world who could come close to understanding him to the degree that Gohan could have. Gohan dies and Trunks is effectively all alone, the terminarch of one species left to shoulder the fate of another.

It’s a staggering loss for anybody, let alone for a boy of 12 or 13.

Speaking of. Gohan. I think Gohan’s a strange case—not powered by grief or anger, but something different. In the moments before he unlocks Super Saiyan, he’s thinking ‘I have to do it’ before flashing abruptly to all the different times where he was ‘too weak or too scared’ to fight. I personally believe that it’s less determination or ‘the power coming in response to a need’, as Goku puts it, that tips him over the edge. Fear, I think—while not being the whole reason, there’s surely some self-directed anger or disappointment involved—is probably the biggest factor. That’s Gohan’s whole thing—he’s scared of fighting, and to some degree of his own power. If I laid out all the specific examples we’d be here for another thousand words, so I’ll just say that he’s been Through It. We all know this.

This sort of has a continuation in the iconic Super Saiyan 2 transformation against Cell. It’s all on him and it’s not until Cell actually kills someone in front of Gohan that it really twigs that it’s do or die for him. And as much as he’s angry at Cell, the realization that Cell means business, that he really will kill them all? It scares him. Fight or flight takes over. The only real difference is that he chooses fight. The change in how Gohan handles Cell is what really convinces me that emotionally he’s going through something similar to Goku and Vegeta—because it’s almost to the letter exactly what happens with Goku against Freeza. The cruelty, the condescension. I’d argue Gohan leans into the mean demeanor, subconsciously or not, to keep from feeling the fear. And it costs him. But the Gohan discussion is a whole other discussion.

As for Future Gohan, I’m putting a disclaimer here now that none of what I’m about to say is really provable—just really really interesting to think about.

Future Gohan’s life is maybe the worst-case scenario. Like the future timeline sucks specifically for Gohan because he doesn’t like to fight and he has to anyway because what other choice does he have? Let everyone on Earth die without at least trying? He couldn’t, not in good conscience. And it’s not like he’ll have a normal life so long as the androids are around anyway. So in the middle of grieving basically everybody he’s ever known and felt affection for (sans his mother and grandfather, it’s more implied that he’s estranged from them, or at least intentionally distancing himself from them to keep them out of harm’s way), he's also making himself channel anger he hates feeling so he has a shot of even surviving these killers that only exist because of something his father did at least ten years ago. This shouldn’t be his fight, and yet.

Here’s my personal theory. Gohan goes into that final fight with the androids fully intending to die. Not just expecting to, but hoping to. He knows that if he was only barely scraping through those fights with both arms, there’s no way in hell he’ll kill them both when he only has one. He’s not an idiot, but you know what he is? Exhausted. Twelve years of this, being the only resistance to this threat and failing each and every time. He knows what will unlock Super Saiyan for Trunks. He knows there’s someone to carry on the torch and lift the burden. And it’s cruel and selfish of him to put all of that on Trunks and throw himself to the wolves, but it was cruel that he had to carry that all by himself for so long.

He’s fucking tired.

Anyways. That’s my TEDtalk on Super Saiyan. If you read it all the way to the end you’re a real one. Thanks for this ask, you two!

#son goku #son gohan #future trunks #mirai trunks #vegeta #goku #trunks #gohan #dragonball z #dragon ball z #dbz #'jojo it's not that deep don't put more thought into it than toriyama did'#Make Me.#text from the mod

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sukunasun · 2 years

Note

begging you to pls elaborate on dilf geto.

more dilf geto.

"you have a tattoo," you say when you see his bare back under fluorescent lights, exposed and gleaming with sweat. it's a late night at the gym and geto's getting in the last few reps of his set. you're meant to drop by for...something you didn't remember because nothing is as important as watching a shirtless geto do pull ups.

he’s in the middle of his routine and it never gets old no matter how often you get to this part; muscles no longer as defined but they're there, filled out in just the right way, a little thick around the biceps, trading in washboard abs for toned lines and a nice bit of chub around the sides. adonis belt be damned, he doesn’t need one, geto's waist is perfect as it is, so sturdy you could watch him do hip thrusts all day. (...bare shoulders square and resting against a bench, hips rising and falling to a steady rhythm as he breathes through it, huffing, puffing. a drop of sweat rolls down his chest and you forcibly block out any ideas of what it would taste like on your tongue)

"i was really impulsive back then," he explains, sheepishly grinning as he eyes it in his reflection. still stark black and fearsome, the memory of him laying flat on his front for eight hours while his old headmaster rhythmically tapped and pierced a dragon into his skin is fresh. so is the pain he endured for a roaring face over his deltoids, sharp claws and scales leading down the middle, dipping, flexing under his shoulder blades, bending and moving along as he completes the last of his workout. "although, a lot of people were put off by it," and you wonder why.

gojo offers his input, "it's intimidating? he looks like he's in a gang," and he's not wrong considering geto's fashion taste is...questionable to say the least. closet consisting of oversized t-shirts he’s picked up from the vintage store, the kind with faded graphics and tacky script, animal print button-ups that are two sizes too small—thus, said buttons become redundant when he only manages to get three of them clasped—and these silk floral shirts he’s bought in bulk from a tourist shop. over the top sure, but it’s something else too, that which lies beneath the clothes because nothing ever wears geto, he makes it work, all the time.

"don’t tell me you’re into bad boys." you hear the smirk in gojo's voice. his best friend definitely looks the part of a yakuza boss. although, it's not that either, because geto's not a boy, he's wild and sexy and just the right amount of a rebel, a man no one fucks with. comfortable in his skin, playing by his own rules. who makes your knees go weak with every new cigarette he lights, every black strand of hair that fades into silver, only getting better with age, and he embraces all of it.

its the way he carries himself, matured, confident, unapologetic. even when he’s hurriedly grabbed something of yours by accident and finds himself at a bake sale with it pulled taut and stretched over his chest, cinching around his bulging arms. ‘I’M A HOT GIRL’ it reads, and his brownie recipe has never failed him but he gives your clothing some credit, after all, he’s raised over a thousand dollars. which is quite a feat given that most of these private school snobs wouldn’t ever think to consume anything that wasn't gluten-free or low in carbs.

while in comparison, geto always cooks by taste, whether cold soba noodles and steaming white rice among an array of dishes he’s prepared by hand, he's come to realise that "a recipe is only a suggestion," he shrugs, smiling when the braised pork and tempura turn out better now that he's more generous with the seasoning. a stew boils on the stove and it makes your stomach grumble when he’s placed it before you at his dining table. he chows down, big huge clumps of rice clasped by his chopsticks, the spinach he’s blanched and mixed with the stir-fry is almost gone before you can get a taste of it, but he saves extra pieces of meat for you. the tilt of his head when he relishes in the flavour, the groans he lets out, "mhm...thats good," his voice grits behind a mouthful. his savagery on display, hunger, and pride at what he's made, that he's now sharing it with you.

gosh, you don't know how long you can stand this, here with legs spread wide on either side, geto leans back into the chair that's dwarfed by his tall frame, his whole chest out collecting the crumbs that fall, caught in the fabric of his apron with white rabbits lining the hem, jaw clenching, unclenching as he chews, fuck...does he know how beautiful he is, geto looks the picture of perfect health. who eats whatever he wants and enjoys it. all the salt and sugar, the extra bits of garlic. even when he would come off messy, sloppy, your heart clenches every time he so much as blows the spoonful of soup before feeding it to you, or that he reaches out to rub at the sauce left at the corner of your mouth, licking it off his thumb.

the act is innocent, nothing more than a kind gesture on his part. but seconds later, it sets something off in him when it dawns on him. feels that desire bubbling up, suddenly self-conscious and so aware that your bodies are so close. only separated by a feast and an unnamed...thing; an overwhelming burst of longing, heart slowing down because you can only focus on each other, he could inch just a little closer, kiss and suck that corner tasting of balsamic vinegar and sweet surrender.

"what does he have that i don't?" says every guy who tries and fails to impress, to charm. geto finds his old records one day as he's clearing out the back room. a few hundred of them nestled in a beer crate, worn from age and use, dusty, but holding all the memories in the grooves and scratches of the vinyl. decorated with the fingerprints of a younger geto in high school picking it up as a hobby not knowing how to actually hold one or care for them. now he's learned to hold them by the edges, that they should be stood upright instead of getting stacked on top of one another, keeping the pressure and weight off them. so wary of everything, gentler, patient.

sifting through them he comes to find one that has an old and worn-out cover, running his fingers over it he relishes in the feel of the wrinkles and texture underneath, the smell so inviting and long-lasting, waxy and yellowed on the edges, only getting better with age. slipping the record out he places it gently through the center spindle, before dropping the needle on it. when the beginning sounds of a soul tune ring through the speakers, he takes a moment to relish it, crackles and all, basslines vibrating through the house.

geto pulls you closer by the hand. "dance with me," he smiles, and so do you. "forget about them," he whispers, lips pressed to your ear, holding you close, holding you tight, swaying. forget about all the other boys who make you run circles around them. you're tired of it, to say the least, of going through the talking stage, the pointless hookups, and all the ways these dates will never live up to a moment spent in his presence.

#dilfism is an epidemic ... and im only making it worse #i would pay big money to see a showdown between dilf geto and dad geto.... whorish vs wholesome....#this is a geto girls only event if ur not a geto girl go home #ask #anon #sunpiece #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #geto suguru #geto suguru hcs #geto x reader #saturated #geto suguru smut #geto suguru fic #geto smut #geto hc #dilf geto

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chuyasthighs0 · 2 years

Text

Sweet Blood

Requested by a lovely reader

Chuuya x Reader,in a scenario similar to the scene in The Case Study of Vanitas;(SPOILERS if you haven’t seen the anime/manga).This is inspired by the ball episode but in were Reader is Vanitas in the situation of offering Vampire Chuuya their blood but he can only drink her blood from there on.

Also was requested by one of you lovely readers.

Mentions of Blood!Is slightly suggestive!

Note this is seperate from my vampire Chuuya series!

Semi implied Fem reader

Chuuya could usually control his thirst for blood but tonight was different,the medication he took wore off quicker than usual.He found it harder to control and what was worse is that he’s stuck having to stay in this ball,watching over the crowd until he spotted you.A simple human merely being here with your vampire friend, Dazai who to his surprise hasn’t taken you to drink your blood and mark you.

To be honest he was kinda of jealous of the man because he smelt your blood before how sweet and desirable it had been.Wanting to gently wrap his black gloves finger around your neck as he sinks his teeth into your skin.Call he shameful for thinking that,not taking his eyes off you and you could surely felt them burn through the back of your head.Not seeing the coy smile daintily forming on your face as you head over to him causing the Ginger the gulp.

“Hey Chuuya,how are things?”You asked and immediately he was in a almost trance like state as he saw you don a elegant light blue dress with hints of gold,cut to reveal your shoulders and collar bone.He had to nearly slap himself out of it.

“Sorry just a bit lost in thought,hey aren’t you with that waste of bandages?”Chuuya peered over your shoulder look for where he was

“He’s busy,convincing some woman to join in on whatever suicide tactic he wants to do next.”

You roll your eyes at the thought of the man

but then averted them back onto the Ginger

seeing how stressed he looked.

“Plus it looks like your about to suffocate in here

so you’re coming to get a breath of air with me.” Taking his black gloved hand in yours dragging him through the crowd of people dancing managing to get you both into the corridor and out onto the balcony area of the palace.

“Thanks for that one.”Chuuya leaned his body over onto the railing as he gazed down at the red night casted over the city,red light hitting every curve of his face perfectly.

“Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”You asked eyes already set on him when his casted away from the city below and onto you.

“It would be embarrassing for me to plus I rather not ask for your help.”He rubbed the nape of his neck with each breath growing heavier and so did your very concern for the man did as well.

“Chuuya?”You called out softly placing a hand on his shoulder,read the situation clearly

“Get back,I can’t drink your blood like this!”He tried to distance himself away from you.

“Well I’m not forcing you but you also don’t have any other options not unless you want Dazai’s.”You suggested seeing his eyes widen furiously

as he slammed his fists into the stone edging of the balcony causing it to crumble.

“Don’t bring his name up like that.”He huffed slowly getting closer towards you,losing every

control more quickly than he has before.

“No time left until you loose it and go in rage so I keeping my offer up Chuuya,your free to drink.”Snagging a ribbon out of your pocket and tying your hair up,his gloves hands grip onto your shoulders whilst his fangs hovered over the skin of your neck with his breath tickling it slightly.

“You sure about this Y/n because once we start neither of us will stop.”He rasped out heavily

“Please Chuuya.”Practically begging him as he sunk his teeth once he heard the approval into your neck causing a pleasurable groan slip out.

Falling back onto the ground softly,his weight leaning on you with his leg wedged between

your legs.Tilting your head up giving him more

neck room,blush now spreading access your cheeks feeling his hand gently grip your neck and rubbing his thumb soothingly.Wrapping an

arm around his neck,covering your mouth with the other hand holding back the built up pleasure coming from within.Everything was burning as your bodies moulded together perfectly.

He let out muffled groans until finally he retracted his fangs,hands then started to travel slowly down to your sides gently caressing them.Kissing the bite mark on your neck before

pulling his head back up now gazing down into your eyes with his blue ones filled with softness.

“You did so well.”He praised bringing a hand up to cup your jaw as he lowered his head til your noses touch.A chuckle reverberated from him

“Please,kiss me….”You huff not being able to still get enough of him,his touch felt like a blessing

“Desperate now,huh?”He closed the gap between your lips pressing his against yours

passionately.Slowly moving in sync not knowing what it felt like to breathe at all,letting out a stifled moan into the kiss.

Chuuya pulled back as he saw how heavy you were breathing with red spread across your face

“Well aren’t you a work of art darling.”He perched himself up with one arm still being on top of you as he looked down.You tighten your hold around his neck,pulling yourself slightly up to bury your head into his chest.

“Please only drink my blood from now on.”You practically begged not looking up to see his widen eyes that briefly flash until he let out a low laughed and smirked.Moving his hand to hold the small of your back,splaying it out

“How could I deny when you tasted so sweet.”

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #vampire chuuya x reader

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tokyorevismylife · 1 year

Text

Draken X Reader- Shadows of the One You Loved

A/N: First off, I would like to say that I AM ALIVE. I sincerely apologize for not writing or posting anything sooner, but if I am being honest, I’ve been busy with school, and life in general and, well...I forgot I made this account so that I could share some anime or game brainrot with some like-minded people. And after I came back, I noticed my two posts got way more notes than I was expecting you guys to give, so thank you for all the reads, follows, and likes! So I’ve been thinking of a certain Draken scenario, and I decided to post it. Enjoy!

warnings: chapter 148 spoiler, mentions of death, lil bit of cussing, tokyo rev timeskip spoilers...I ADVISE YOU NOT TO READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE MANGA UP TO CHAP 225(or spoil yourself but don’t blame me), ANGSTY

You silenced your phone for what felt like the millionth time, too upset and heartbroken to care for the calls coming through. You knew if you picked up, or looked at the texts, you would have to answer their frenzied questions, or listen to their voices filled with anger and dismay on your behalf, and that would make you remember everything even more. And all you wanted to do was forget. Forget the moments, memories and most of all, HIM. You wanted to forget him...

*RING, RING* Your cellphone’s ringtone blared annoyingly, and you were pissed. You were on a roll studying for an exam of yours that was coming up, and your cellphone interrupted your train of thought. The irritating caller turned out to be none other than one of your close friends, who called you frantically because his motorcycle broke down.

“Please, can you be here with me?” Your friend begged you. “What am I gonna do there?” You countered. “I don’t know the slightest thing about motorcycles. I’d be utterly useless.”

“Yeah...but here’s the thing, the guys running the shop intimidate me! Like I feel like the main dude can snap me in half with his bare hands!” Your friend was truly freaked out, and you couldn’t hold in your laughter at his statement. “Alright, alright, I’ll be there. You owe me,” you told your friend, and you hung up. You headed out of your house and strolled through the bustling streets of the Kanto Prefecture. You were steadily making your way, until you halted in front of the motorcycle shop your friend told you to meet him at, D&D Motorcycle Shop. You were greeted by your frantic friend, biting his nails anxiously. “Thank God, you’re finally here. It took you long enough. I thought that maybe Draken’s spirit heard what I was saying about him, and he decided to haunt you and take you away!” “You are an absolute idiot, you know that? You know how stupid you sound right now? Also, who’s Draken?” You retorted in disbelief. The nervous boy said nothing in response, only looked at the shop like it was an entrance to hell. “Alright we’re going inside. Come on, scaredy-cat!” You grinned, dragging your friend inside, where his bike was getting fixed up.

You entered the shop, and your eyes met with an unexpected sight. The fact that your friend was NOT exaggerating. The guy fixing up the bike was HUGE, muscular, and tall. Not to mention, he had a half-shaved head, with very long, blond hair tied up in a braid that trailed down his back, and a dragon tattoo that swirled around the side of his head. But you watched as he worked on the bike with extreme concentration painting his features, and your face started to heat up. While his appearance was menacing, he was also handsome, in a very rugged and unconventional way.

“Do NOT tell me that you are getting a fucking crush right now.” Your friend said sassily, and audibly. Your eyes widened in surprise, and in fear just in case the man working on the bike heard. “Shut up, asshole, at least I wasn’t scared of him!” You replied to your friend. Your friend blushed at that, and he turned away, angrily. “Where are you going?” You questioned. “To get something to eat. Screw this. I’m not spending hours here.” He answered. “WHY’D YOU DRAG ME OUT HERE IF YOU AREN’T EVEN GONNA STAY!?” Now you were actually PISSED. But, your friend being the jackass he is, left without a word, while FLIPPING you off. You grunted in frustration and decided to look at the blond again, and you realized that he was looking at you. He quickly turned away when he realized you noticed him. This gave you the courage to go and talk to him.

“Excuse me, sir? Is it alright if I watch you work from closer up? I find it pretty interesting.” You asked in a straighforward manner. “Suit yourself, but be careful.” The man told you. Your heart melted at that. Scary my ass, you thought. He seems like a nice guy, just a little gruff. “So sir...-” “The name’s Draken, and you can quit callin’ me sir. I’m 18.” He replied. “HUH?? You’re the same age as me??? What the heck? Talk about an early developer!” You couldn’t contain your surprise. Despite himself, Draken let a small smile creep onto his face at your outburst and bubbliness. Then, he studied you. There was an air of familiarity around you that he couldn’t pinpoint, like he had met someone like you before in the past.

“Hey, you smiled! So, I guess you aren’t scary after all. My friend dragged me out all the way here while I was studying just because he was scared of you! Isn’t that ridiculous. But, you have a nice smile, smile more often and then people won’t be scared of you!” You grinned. Draken felt his heart and face grow warm at your excitedness. Then, a sharp pang in his chest. And he looked at you again. And this time..he knew why you were so familiar. You were just like her. His past love. His dear Emma-chan that he fell for. Your nature and the way you acted was just like her. No, he was just being ridiculous. This was just him longing for some company. So, he asked you boldly if you wanted to hang out sometime. And you, unknowing of what was to come, eagerly said yes.

And it was from then on, that your relationship with Draken began. At first, it was just friendly on his part, and you guys spoke occasionally, and hungout with each other. But you guys started speaking and spending time with each other more, and soon enough the both of you harboured feelings for each other. You remember the day he confessed to you, a beautiful, sunny day, in which you two were walking leisurely in a Tokyo park. You excitedly accepted his feelings, and told him that you felt the same. You remembered that he kissed you, and it was magical. He picked up your frame, that was so much smaller than his, and both of you locked in an embrace. But, as he kissed you, he couldn’t help seeing Emma. Couldn’t help feeling guilty. Couldn’t help but be reminded of his first love, who was just so much like you. But, he still decided to continue, even though he knew it would be torture for him, and torture for you once you found out that his heart didn’t belong fully to you.

After you kissed, you guys strolled together like any new couple did. As you walked, you noticed an ice cream truck, with all the GOOD stuff. “Draken, look over there! An ice cream truck! We have to get some!!” You dragged the large man’s sleeve, to which he said, “Damn, woman, don’t rip my arm off!” He thought your eagerness and innocence was adorable and your smile was beautiful. But then he was reminded of Emma. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get over her. You arrived at the ice cream truck, and ordered your favourite flavour. You were about to pull your wallet out, but Draken’s large hand stopped you. “You’re my girlfriend, I’ll pay.” As he pulled out the money, a picture of a young, cutesy girl came out. You picked it up and studied it. The girl was stunning, with wonderfully feathered blonde hair, and a very developed figure and a radiant smile, who was hugging a very happy looking Draken. You never saw that look on Draken’s face. As Draken handed you your ice cream, his eyes glanced at the picture in your hands, and as he realized what the picture was, his eyes widened marginally.

“How did you get that?” Draken asked panicked. “Whoa, relax! It just fell out while you were taking out the money.” You glanced at his normally calm face, which now held an expression of fear and pain. “Who is she anyways? Your sister? She’s so pretty! She could totally be a model, unless...she already is one?” You asked. “She’s dead.” Draken threw it out there, coldly. “H-huh? I’m sorry...” You said to him. “I’m guessing she was special to you.” His eyes glanced at Emma’s smile again, and his eyes softened. “The most special. She was beautiful. She was the..best. I miss her everyday.” He never thought he;d talk about Emma to you of all people, but nonetheless, it felt good for him to get it off his chest.

You fixated your gaze on him, with an understanding look in your eyes. You remember he ranted to you about everything. About how she died. How he felt helpless. How he wasn’t able to save her. Protect her. And how it felt like that he lost the most importnat person in his life, that made him feel like he mattered, and that he felt an emptiness in his chest that grew with every passing day without her. And then your heart panged with sadness. Because the look that crept into his eyes when he spoke about Emma, the expression that was on his face...he never looked at YOU like that. And you realized with every passing day, that he tried to make you turn into her. From little comments about the way you should dress, about the things that she liked to do that you didn’t, and the comments about how you both were similar made you realize. Realize that you were only a shell to him. Just someone sort of there. He didn’t love you. Draken loved the idea of you. And you felt like an utter fool. But, most of you didn’t want to believe that. However, for the sake of closure, you decided to ask him.

It was a regular day for the both of you. It was a weekend, and you were sitting in his shop before closing time, as he prepared to shut the shop down for the day. “Hey, Draken, I think we need to talk.” You sighed breathily. “I already know which direction this is going in.” Draken looked at you sadly. “Draken, you don’t love me, do you?” You stared at the ground tentatively, afraid to look his face. “I’m sorry.” Draken said. That apology was all you needed to fully understand, all you needed to understand that your feelings were unreciprocated. You said nothing. You couldn’t say anything. Your throat closed up. You wanted to scream, cry, do both, but not in front of him. Draken called your name all of a sudden, and you flinched. “I really am sorry. It’s just your demeanor was so much like Emma’s, and all the feelings I have for her, were surpressed because of her death, and you managed to bring them back up again. You being with me lessened the pain of her being gone, because you were so much like Emma. I thought it was like having her back again, just in a different shell...but I was wrong. I love Emma, and only Emma, and I don’t think that will change. But, thank you for being there for me.”

He edged closer to you and placed his hands on your shoulders. You still didn’t look up. “It’s late. You should head home. And, thanks again for everything.” He then, let go of you and turned away, signalling the end of the conversation. Probably the last conversation you would every have with him. You turned away, cursing yourself in the back of your mind as you headed home. You felt numb, and felt stupid. You knew, had an inching feeling of doubt, knew he felt this way in your brain somewhere, and yet you chose to ignore it. Eventually, you got home, and headed for your bed. And, there in your safe space, all alone, you let everything out. You started crying, howling tears of despair, until you fell asleep, and began your journey of healing and forgetting.

“

#draken x reader #draken #draken x you #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tr x reader #tr x you #angst #draken angst #draken x reader angst #tokyo revengers draken #tr draken #tokyo rev draken #tokrev #tokyo rev x reader angst

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the-eyes-of-andyserkis · 11 months

Text

Bringin' Home the Rain - Chapter 5: "Foundations"

Masterlist

Fandom: MCU - Age of Ultron, Black Panther Pairing: Ulysses Klaue x F!Reader Word count: 8.8K Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Explicit

Chapter Summary: You've passed the point of no return, but even now Ulysses Klaue seems determined to drive you mad.

Warnings: Explicit Rating, Alcohol, Blood and Injury, Minor Injuries, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Age Difference, Reader is Late 30s, Masturbation, Smut, Smutty Smut, The Smutty Kind of Smut, Smut With Accidental Feelings, PWP, But a bit of Plot if you squint, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Teasing, Oral (M! Receiving), Reference to Predator/Prey, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom, Hair pulling, Begging, Finger Sucking, Spanking, Nipple Play, Oral (F! Receiving), Cock Warming, Mild Size Kink, Daddy Kink, Unprotected PIV, Creampie, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Dom, Aftercare

A/N: Well, here we go! I really want to thank everyone so much for reading and following along as I figured this out, and anyone who has commented or left feedback in any way has been so appreciated. 💕 This started a three chapter rough draft back in May 2021, and has been sitting in the back of my mind since then. I'm so happy that I started this blog and found some lovely people who maybe would want to read a silly little fic I wrote, otherwise this likely wouldn't have seen the light of day!

So, thank you again for reading, mind the new tags, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. 😉

**********

Title is from the song "Bringin' Home the Rain" by The Builders and the Butchers.

AO3 Link

You're evil as the demons that haunt you Forgetting what it was that they taught you And now there's no one left to stop you Or to catch you when you drop

“Now, take your clothes off for me.”

You hear the words but your vision is still swimming, your limbs shaky and hot, and with the ghost of his fingers still lingering against your tongue you can only stare as he pulls his belt all the way through the loops, dropping it to the floor with a metallic thud.

The sound of your name cuts through your reverie.

“Did you hear me?” Klaue prompts.

“I did.” You give him a languorous smile, your hands drifting to the hem of your shirt. “It’s just that I was...still thinking about your fingers in my mouth.”

“Yes, you do seem to like using your mouth.” Klaue huffs a laugh before his eyes harden. “It’s going to get you into trouble.”

“I’m not already in trouble?” Tilting your head you frown in mock inquisitiveness.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Klaue replies slowly, pointedly flicking his eyes to where your hands continue to linger at your waist.

“What happens when you decide?” You ask, shifting on your feet when his eyes lock with yours, the flicker you can see even in the dim light daring you to find out.

"Take off…your clothes." Klaue’s voice is gravely quiet, and not filled with an abundance of patience.

Taking a steadying breath and fighting the temptation to keep pushing, you finally start to follow his command. You remove your boots first, glancing up to see him watching you intently, heat flaring low in your belly at the pleased look in his eyes. Straightening back up you lift your shirt smoothly over your head and let it drop to the floor, his eyes following your hands to where your thumbs hook in the waistband of your pants, pushing them past your hips and down your legs until you can step out and kick them to the side.

It had been on a whim that you’d chosen the underwear you did when you went back to your room to hurriedly change, the only set that wasn’t purely utilitarian. You had rolled your eyes at yourself at the time - what do you even expect to happen - but now you’re grateful for the impulse as you straighten your shoulders and wait, letting him take in the sight of you in black lace, the animal hunger on his face making your cunt throb.

“Not done”, Klaue rumbles, the smirk on his lips belying the control that you can sense slipping. An expectant look falls quickly into impatience while his fingers work to free the last of the buttons on his shirt until it’s hanging open, and you lick your lips when you see the grey flecked curls that spread across his chest and down his broad abdomen.

The air in the room feels charged and a shiver ripples beneath your skin as you bring your hands up behind your back where your fingers find and release the clasp there, then ease the straps from your shoulders, slowly exposing your breasts before letting it fall to the floor with the rest. It’s a heady feeling watching Klaue’s eyes slide a shade darker as they pass hungrily over your body, like the first sip of honeyed liquor that burns your throat but leaves a sweet tingle on your lips.

You feel somehow more than just exposed under his gaze, as though he were seeing deeper than your skin, finding a hidden sliver that you didn’t know existed at the core of you. You find that you desperately want to know what it feels like to stand fully naked in front of him, want to know what else he’ll see, anticipation sending a shiver down your spine when your fingers ghost along the band of your underwear.

“Wait.”

You stop at the word, your brows creasing with a faint frown.

“Turn around,” he continues.

Though you’re uncertain at the shift you do what he says, slowly turning around and then waiting, considering what he might want.

“Did I say stop?” Klaue husks. “I don’t think I said stop.”

An idea swirls into your mind, then. With your back to him you start to tilt forward at the waist while at the same time slowly sliding your underwear down your legs, continuing to bend further than you realistically need to until the fabric is at your ankles, your position now a mimic of what you had done earlier in your workroom. Only this time there’s nothing covering you.

You tilt your ass up to expose yourself further, and when you chance a look back you see that Klaue's eyes are fixed between your thighs, his lips slightly parted, and you know that he can see what you can feel, your folds wet and shining from what an afternoon of frustration and just his fingers had done to you. When you start to straighten back up you hear a rough whisper.

“Don’t move.”

Keeping your hands braced against your shins you listen to Klaue’s heavy footsteps approach, feel him stop just behind you, and then you flinch at the skimming touch of his fingers along the outside of your hips as he traces your curves before sliding up to fit his hands in the dip of your waist. You can imagine him gripping you like this to fuck you back onto his cock and you think - hope - that’s what’s about to happen, but then he’s sliding his hands back down to your thighs, and when he nudges the backs of your heels you lose your balance and have to quickly reach your hands out to catch yourself on the edge of the mattress.

You hear him shifting and suddenly Ulysses Klaue is kneeling behind you, directly in line with your sex.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs as he settles behind you. “Is this what you wanted to show me?” His words are teasing as he drags his fingernails along the backs of your thighs and up over the curve of your hips. Stealing your words with his touch you can only gasp as he continues trailing a path across the sensitive line where your thighs and ass meet, goosebumps flushing across your skin and you shift awkwardly, trying to squeeze your legs together to get some relief from his inflaming touch.

Just as you’re starting to sink into the sensation of it he spreads his hands flat on your ass, gripping you firmly to spread you open, his thumbs playing near your soaked entrance where he can see your slick mixing with fresh arousal and starting to drip down your thighs.

“Is this all for me, darling?” His words make you shiver and you’re sure that he sees your muscles clench in response.

“Yes,” you moan, greedily pressing yourself back into his hands. “God, yes.” Your body trembles and you start to pant as he continues to tease you, skimming just around the edges of your folds. His breath is warm on the backs of your thighs and you think he’s going to put his mouth on you but then he moves away, sliding his hands down your legs instead.

“Don’t move your hands,” he directs you, helping you step out of your underwear while you’re still bent over and then standing back up.

Your hips slide back, seeking him, and you don’t have to move far before you’re pressing against the tented fabric that’s stretched across the curve of his cock. He keeps his hands at his sides as you roll your slick center along the hard ridge him, your mind going loose and syrupy at the sensation as you lose yourself in the building heat of it, but then he pulls away from you causing your hips to dip back as you lose the resistance, and he chuckles at your whine of protest.

"Look at the mess you made." he tsks, the front of his pants now damp from where you were rubbing yourself against him.

"I think you're the one who made that mess," you reply, breathless. It's not your fault what he does to you, after all.

Jumping at the sound before you actually feel it, the sharp slap on your ass sends a spike of heat up your spine and your eyes are wide when you jerk your head to look back over your shoulder, fists tightening in the fabric under your hands.

Klaue is completely still other than a slow furling and unfurling of his fingers.

Your mind is heavy with arousal yet simultaneously crystal clear. Your eyelids are heavy now as you look from his hand back to his face, fighting the giddy smile that’s sliding across your mouth as you sigh and arch your hips in acquiescence.

A grin curves his lips as he lands another smack, harder this time, keeping his palm against your ass and massaging the spot that’s heating up now. Leaning over you his other hand slides into your hair and then he’s gripping it tight and pulling you back up, and you feel briefly weightless as the brace of the bed suddenly disappears from under your hands.

Pressing his face against your neck the scruff of his beard prickles against your hot skin, the musk of him filling your senses.

"Who made this mess?" He growls in your ear. It’s not a question.

"I did," you pant.

The third time his hand makes contact is the hardest and you yelp at the sharp sting that sits on the penumbra of pleasure and pain and you moan at both as you grind your ass back into his hand, the heat in your core coiling out into every limb.

"Would you like more," he squeezes your reddening cheek to emphasize his meaning. “Or would you prefer that I fuck you?"

"Mor- no, wait!” Your senses are reeling and it takes a good few seconds to straighten out your thoughts. “Fuck me, please." You feel him laugh against you at your panicked stammer.

Releasing your hair, he turns you around.

"Are you going to listen, then?"

"Yes." you answer firmly, a pleased spark illuminating his eyes.

Now that you’re facing him, though, your attention is drawn to his bare chest and suddenly all you can think of is touching him. You need to feel his skin.

At first Klaue watches your hands warily as they start to move so you're relieved that he doesn’t stop you when you slide them up his chest, soft hair and warm skin beneath your fingers feeling like an indulgence after how many times you’ve thought about it.

Dipping under the edges of his unbuttoned shirt you push the fabric aside, helping slide it off his shoulders and arms until it drops to the floor. For a moment you just look at him, taking in the firm curves of broad muscle, the way the tendons flex in his neck and jaw when your hands continue to wander across the broad planes of tattooed skin, fingers finding pathways between the ink, trailing over his belly and inexorably down to the tantalizing vee of muscle that dips below his waistband.

Klaue’s breath hitches when your hand slides over his erection and he quickly grabs your wrist, halting your exploration.

“None of that now, darling," his voice trembles and you're pleased that you've managed to bring down a corner of his defenses, even though you can immediately sense them strengthening again.

“Sit down,” he commands, stepping you backward with hands on your hips until your knees hit the mattress and you can’t help but tip back, landing with a bounce. Klaue follows you down so that he’s on his knees again, in front of you now.

”I’m..still not sure if I-” you start to reiterate your uncertainty, but your words trail off when his fingers press into the soft flesh above your knees, firmly coaxing your legs open. Leaning back on your hands you’re mesmerized by the sight of Klaue kneeling in front of you, his eyes heavy and focused only on your cunt as your slick folds open up for him.

"I’m going to taste you," he says with a rough sigh.

Not a request but a foregone conclusion as broad hands slide up your thighs to span flat across your hips, pressing into the curve where they meet your thighs and framing your cunt as an artist deciding where to begin. His thumbs press and spread you open so that a little more of you is exposed, skating inward but not quite reaching your cleft.

Taking you by surprise he suddenly leans forward and you gasp when his mouth closes around one of your nipples, holding it between his lips and quickly flicking his tongue across the very tip of the sensitive peak before releasing it and moving to give equal treatment to the other. Your body arches as sparks of bright heat jolt from the point where his tongue is awakening your nerves to slide straight down to your core.

Klaue keeps a tight grip on your hips to fix you in place as you writhe and he presses more firmly with the tip of his tongue, continuing to flick and circle while your body stiffens with waves of clenching ache until you’re breathless and trembling, your knees reflexively squeezing his waist where he sits between them.

You’re starting to think that you’d be ok if he just kept doing this when with one last flick of his tongue he sits back onto his heels and presses his lips to the inside of your knee, the drag of his beard tickling your skin.

“You’re rather sensitive there, darling.” he teases.

“Mmmyeah.” you pant, still breathless. “I think- I think maybe you could do that all night if you wanted.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Klaue smiles against your skin and you try to ignore the swirl of hope at his words, at the thought that this won’t be the only time, that maybe he’ll want this - want you - again.

Your legs start to open wider of their own accord as his lips slide closer to your aching center, but when your arms buckle and you start to lie back he stops you, reaching an arm around your waist to drag you back to sitting.

“Stay like this,” he says firmly. “I want you to watch." His full lips are wet and glistening, matching the shine he’s left on your breasts, and when you nod they return to your thigh, sucking on the soft skin for a few moments before moving to find a new spot, leaving a trail of faint, rose petal bruises for you to discover later. It’s a concerted effort to brace your arms and hold yourself up as he continues his path inward, but you manage. Because right now the only thing you want is to be good.

Anticipation fills your lungs, leaving room for almost nothing else as he finally reaches your mound and pauses to inhale you before meeting your eyes as if to make sure they’re still on him, his hands spreading you open to expose all of you now, shining and swollen, and a shuddering gasp escapes your lips when his tongue flicks out to finally taste you.

The tip of his tongue explores you slowly, sliding through your folds, tasting, divining, making soft, wet noises as he starts to take you apart at the seams and you’re shocked at the delicate violence of it.

"Sweet cunt." You almost don't hear Klaue’s whispered groan as he drags his nose through the thatch of hair between your thighs, inhaling you more deeply, and then for a moment he stops and looks at you; not moving, just looking as his breathing becomes slow and rough.

His attention should make you self-conscious but it's just making you more turned on and you’re sure he can see fresh arousal coating your sex, but you don’t have time to wonder about much else because then his lips close over your clit, dragging a moan from your throat as you try to control the buck of your hips while still trying to keep yourself upright.

He doesn’t use his tongue now, instead he simply rests his lips against the sensitive bud and then slides slowly across it in a teasing drag, slipping and gliding against your inflamed nerves until you’re nearly on the edge from the slick friction, startled by how quickly the heat is pooling as his lips gently torture you, and then-

-he pulls back again, returning to his previous activity of kissing your thighs.

“Fuck, why’dyoustopkeepgoing.’ You breathe out all in a rush.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his question infuriatingly coy.

“What?? Yes, oh my god,” you whine, rolling your hips against nothing and Klaue raises a Puckish eyebrow as you awkwardly writhe in front of him.

“You didn’t seem sure, before.”

“Jesus, I am now, ok?” You know how pathetic you sound but can’t manage to care.

“Of what?” he coaxes you “Tell me.”

“That I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan, unable to hold back the desperation from your voice. “I want you to make me come on your tongue. Please.”

"Well, since you asked so nicely." His eyes flick back up to meet your pleading gaze. "But I'm going to need you to say my name first, darling."

"Please, Ulysses." With a rock of your hips you sigh his name.

He groans, rolling his erection against the side of the mattress.

"That does sound lovely coming out of your mouth," he grits, eyes still on you. "But that's not what I meant.” Klaue’s voice goes deep, and the timbre of it combined with the Cheshire grin on his lips tells you exactly what he meant.

You laugh, suddenly giddy as it dawns on you, and it’s not that you’re averse to it but the only time you’d said it before it had felt silly more than anything and you almost had to stifle a laugh at how out of place it sounded coming out of your mouth. But now, open and needy and aching for this man, every nerve desperate to burst into flame, you realize that you want to.

“Say my name and I’ll take care of you, Mot.”

It feels worshipful, the whispered groan against your thigh. You watch him transcribing a prayer of fitful shapes on your skin with his tongue, tracing patterns older than Eros that you wish he were drawing on your clit instead, and then you feel something breaking open inside of you and it comes out in a rush of desperation mixed with utter certainty.

“Please, daddy. I need your mouth on my pussy, make me come, please.”

The last word falls to a keening cry when his mouth closes over you, no tentative exploration now as his tongue slides obscenely through every dip and fold of your sex, making sure he leaves none of you untouched, licking and sucking and truly tasting you now, the wet sounds he’s making against your cunt obscenely loud in the small room.

Then he drags his tongue down lower to dip inside of your entrance, his mouth open and panting over you and your arms shake as you watch him press further inside of you, tasting your essence as it leaks out onto his tongue.

He pulls away again but your moan transforms from protest to pleasure when he slides his middle finger into you the same way did when he had you against the wall, but now with you spread open like this he can press deeper, all the way to the knuckle and you can feel the ridges of the rings on his fingers bumping against your sex as he slowly strokes in and out of your tight heat. Your head lolls back when he adds his index finger and even though it’s a tease of what you really crave, the sweet stretch of it makes you sigh in relief.

"If just two fingers has you in such a state I can't wait to hear the sound you make when you take my cock.” You clench around his fingers at the deep rumble of his words and you can feel yourself sliding closer to the edge when he swipes his thumb over your aching bud.

"You don't have to wait," you reply, pleading, feeling your mind slipping away as an aching pressure swells deep inside you.

"But you do." he growls back, continuing the slow stretching pump of his fingers, watching where they disappear, slick and shining inside of you. “Because right now you’re going to come for me.” Klaue returns his mouth to your clit, pressing his tongue flat and stroking you firmly, the needy movements of your hips giving him their rhythm to follow.

You try to stay upright but as your pleasure builds your arms buckle he doesn’t protest this time when you fall to your back, instead he simply moves one of your legs with his free hand until it’s positioned on his shoulder and then wrapping his arm up and around your thigh

Done with words now you can only make soft pleading whines with every ripple of Klaue’s tongue, his compulsion to tease you finally replaced with a single-minded determination to devour you. Capturing your clit in his mouth he draws his lips up and over the sensitive bud, releasing it with a soft, wet suck, continuing this until the rock of your hips becomes a little sharper and then starting to trace patterns with his tongue, searching for and finding the angle that makes you stiffen and working that spot until you’re trembling against his mouth.

The sensation keeps building hot and fierce and you feel like you should have peaked but you’re still rising. You can feel it deep in your core, in your thighs, curled behind your sternum and you can only inhale short gasps, your hands trying to grip the blankets above your head in your fists in an attempt to tether yourself.

You’re not in control of your body any more, nor the sounds that you’re making as you moan unintelligible sacraments and when you nearly buck him off he pulls his fingers out of you to quickly grip your other leg, and you can feel the flex of his biceps against your thighs, pinning you, keeping you locked in place under his mouth.

“Ulysses??” Not a question but a plea, it’s the only word you can form right now as your vision blurs at the edges and for a split second you’re afraid he’ll stop, but then he’s groaning against your cunt, lips trapping and sucking your clit with a sudden fluttering suction and your back arches off the bed as you finally crash blindly into your climax.

It hits you like a wave in the ocean and you dimly hear yourself crying out as you tumble blindly, barely able to catch your breath between the waves of it as he continues to suck and circle your swollen bud with his tongue, unrelenting as you writhe and moan and if you could form words you might be begging him not to stop, oh god please don’t stop.

When your trembling hips finally start to relax into a softer rock against his mouth Klaue releases your clit and slides his tongue down to where you’re soaked now and then licks a stripe all the way back up your slit before resting his open mouth over your sex, soft and warm, and you shudder at the vibration that spirals through you as he moans softly, drinking in the last pulsing waves of your orgasm that roll against his tongue.

Cool air soothes your heated flesh when he finally pulls off of you, untwining his arms from your legs and standing up. As your vision swims back you’re half aware of him removing the rest of his clothes and boots.

“I think you’re ready for me to fuck you now, hm?” He looks down, smirking at the sight of you limp and panting on the bed, fabric still gripped tight in your fists.

That snaps you out of it. Your eyes fly open to see his broad, inked form standing over you, the scruff of his beard still glistening with your release, and when you see his cock hanging heavy against his thick thighs you sigh and instinctively open your legs wider, your body still aching for him, to be filled by him.

“Please,” You sigh with a languid nod as he steps back towards you.

”Impatient, are we?” Klaue taunts, the mattress dipping as he kneels and slides an arm under the arch of your waist to move you, always so damn smug as if it wasn't his intent all along to make you this way,

“Back” he says, and you try to help but barely have a chance to react before he’s lifting you, hauling you up the bed and you can only hold on to his shoulders and brace yourself until he has you positioned where he wants before pushing himself back up to kneel between your thighs, his hands quickly coaxing your legs back open.

“Beautiful,” he sighs, and when you glance up at his face you’re surprised to find him looking directly into your eyes, and now you feel self-conscious. A rosy flush blooms across your chest and you’re burning so hot you almost can’t stand it, you need to get out from under his gaze so you reach for his hands where they rest on your knees, running over his fingers and up his forearms.

“I need you. Need you inside me.” You moan and he inhales a sharp hiss through his teeth when your hand wraps around his cock, the tip dark and shining, and you can’t help a hum of appreciation as you grip him, hot and velvety under your fingers.

"Jesus, you’re so fucking hard. Liked eating my pussy that much, did you?" You sigh, sliding your thumb along the sensitive underside of the head.

"Stop." Klaue’s voice is dangerously quiet and you barely hear him, so distracted by the way he's thrusting slightly into your hand.

"Stop." He growls louder through clenched teeth and releases your legs from his grip. "Or you'll get nothing."

Your stomach drops as you quickly pull your hand away, yet even while hoping that you look appropriately chastised, you can’t help when your eyes are drawn to where his cock is resting on your abdomen. While you're certainly becoming quite familiar with him you only now seem to realize just how big he actually is as you look at the length of him lying thick and heavy against you, framed by the vee of your thighs.

"Oh." You release a shaky breath and he smiles at your expression of realization, licking your lips as you consider the reality of fitting him inside of you.

He doesn't touch you or himself for the moment, simply watches you with an appraising stare as you start to writhe nervously, and it’s not long before you let out a frustrated whine and adjust your hips so that you can rub your sex along his rigid length. But the friction isn’t nearly enough when his cock is so fucking close to where you want it, so you try to pull back enough that you can coax him towards to your entrance.

“God, please," you beg. "You’re going to drive me insane. I need you to fuck me. Ok? Don’t you want to feel how wet you made me? How tight I am for you?” You look up at him, desperation in your eyes.

Klaue’s eyes darken and he doesn’t have to say it this time, the command is clear from his expression and the way his hands move back to your legs, fingers digging into your flesh, and you close your eyes and work to still yourself until the only movement is the rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re learning,” he says with a pleased look. “Good girl.” Rewarding you by pushing your knees further back toward your shoulders he grips his cock and drags the tip through your folds, slicking himself up before sliding down until the thick head finds your soaked entrance.

Realizing that you can feel him shaking, you glance up to see him watching you, the crease between his brows deep with concentration as he waits, and only when you meet his eyes does he start to press forward.

Your eyelids flutter and a sigh of relief slips from your throat as he finally starts to stretch you open with a shallow thrust, pushing in just a couple of inches before pulling back out. Then another slow rock of his hips and he slides a little deeper now, his controlled movements making you acutely aware of every shift, every ridge of him as his cock drags against your inner walls.

Klaue may be taking his time and letting you adjust to him but his features are tight with focus, sweat beading on his brow, and you can feel him working to hold himself back. His breath hitches as he presses forward against, watching where he’s disappearing inside of you until he’s maybe halfway sheathed.

Just this stretch is already more than you expected, and even though it feels so fucking good and you just want to open up and take all of him you can’t help the tension that coils within you, and he must notice because you hear the rough gravel of his voice drifting up through the delicious ache of it all.

“Relax,” he hushes and leans over you, moving until his mouth is hovering above yours, flicking his tongue against your lips to coax them open and when they part as you tip your head up to meet him he captures your mouth, immediately licking deeper as you respond eagerly. Tasting yourself on his tongue as he deepens the kiss you can feel yourself softening, opening for him, and when you roll your hips again he slides a little deeper, your moan deepening in kind as you stretch to accommodate his girth.

You let your hands slide across his shoulders, running up around the back of his neck and over the prickle of his shorn hair and he grunts against your mouth as you take him another inch. Pulling away from the kiss he drags his lips to you neck, raising goosebumps where his tongue laves across your skin, and when you feel his teeth slide along the curve of your shoulder your entire body arches all at once and you’re shuddering and rutting until he’s completely sheathed, the rough hair at the base of him pressed flush against the inside of your thighs.

"That's it. Knew you could do it." Then he’s pulling all the way back out of you and you’re whining at the loss even as your chest swells from his praise.

"Look at me.” His low command brings your focus back to him as he lines himself up again, chest heaving as he presses just inside of you, that intoxicating, molten look returning to his eyes. "You tell me if it's too much. Understand?"

You weren't quite expecting that, and it takes a moment to wrap your head around the shift.

"Because I'm done being gentle," he grits out and your skin prickles with anticipation as you moan and rock your hips, trying to take him further inside of you, but he holds you in place, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

"I understand." You finally say with a nod, and hunger singes the edges of his smile at your words.

A strangled cry wrenches from your throat as he buries himself in you with a merciless thrust, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the bittersweet pleasure of the sudden breach, and the relief of finally having him coupled with the blissful sound of his long groan as he enters you has the feeling of gold light sliding through your veins. Giving you no further chance to adjust he thrusts again, and again, grunting every time he bottoms out and you try and fail to stifle your cries as he hits the deepest part of you, fucking you with hard, steady strokes.

With another thrust he suddenly stills, keeping himself fully sheathed in your tight heat, using his weight to press himself as deep into you as he can and leaving you desperately trying to writhe your hips beneath him even though it’s pointless, because he now has you effectively pinned to the bed with his cock.

“Jesus, you feel-” he drops his head and pants against your neck, his words dripping against your skin like burnt honey. “You’re so fucking tight. Perfect cunt.”

"What are you doing?" You moan, swallowing a sob. The sensation of him buried in you like this is beyond intense, it’s all you can feel, every shred of your awareness tied to where all of him is stretching and filling you and you're not sure if you can take it, yet you still need more.

“What's the matter, darling?" Bracing on his elbows Klaue looks down into your face, seeming to enjoy your sweet agony beneath him. "I'm giving you what you wanted. Been begging for my cock all night, said you wanted me to make you take every inch of it. So you’re fucking taking it now, aren’t you?” His only movement is a roll of his hips to push himself deeper.

You can barely form a coherent thought, pleading curses falling from your lips as you’re caught in a whirlpool of bare, mewling need.

"You've been so good for me.” He rolls his hips again. “But you've also been mouthy.” He chides and with a frustrated noise you hook your legs around his waist, pressing your heels into the small of his back to try to find some purchase to rock beneath him. “But you knew you weren’t going to get away with that, didn’t you?”

The taunt of his knowing words suddenly brings you back, a reckless tingle sharpening your thoughts, and even though you’re fairly certain that you’re going to lose your mind from the overwhelming and relentless stretch of him, you force yourself to take deep breaths until your head starts to clear and your body relaxes, making it seem as though you’re giving in to him.

Then, eyes heavy with lust you lean your head up, your voice low and needy when you whimper against his ear.

"But I thought you said you were going to fuck me, daddy."

Klaue’s smile is wild and a spike of adrenaline courses through you when he pushes himself back up, and abandoning whatever plans he had to continue teasing you he hooks your knees in the crooks of his elbows, forcing your legs back and open as he leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your body and thrusting into you with a punishing snap of his hips. Pinned beneath the weight of him you can only cry out at how deep his cock feels now as he starts driving into you hard and fast.

“You mean, like this?" he growls above you, your only reply a stuttered “yes yes yes” as he finally fucks you, as he finally lets go, sweat dampening his curls and slicking your thighs, making the slap of his hips against yours wet and loud as he fucks into you, barely giving you a chance to breathe.

"Poor thing, did you think I wasn't going to fuck this needy little cunt of yours like you deserve?"

You can’t think of anything beyond how good you feel, the solid mass of him pressing down, shaping you beneath him so that you fit together the way he seemed to know that you would, replacing the ache of need with the ache of being split open and impossibly full.

“Christ, you feel so- is this where you want me? Tell me where.” Klaue stammers, a desperate edge to his words and you understand what he’s asking.

“Come inside me, please.” You beg, desperate to feel him.

“Come on my cock then, darling, and I'll give it to you,” he grits through clenched teeth, fucking into you deeper, pulling out as little as possible now and every roll of his hips creates an agonizing friction against your clit. The delicious mix of agony and pleasure with every thrust builds up and up and up until with a clenching cry your orgasm surges through you and you surrender to the feeling of everything all at once: heat and cold, tension and liquid, pitch dark and blinding light, and even through the thick haze of it you have a clear awareness that he’s ruined you completely, because how could you possibly want anything else after this?

Klaue is lost in you now as your cunt grips his cock, groaning praises as he fucks you through it until you feel his rhythm become frantic, his features twisting in ecstasy and then with a final rough thrust he stills, shaking against you until with guttural moan you feel his cock throb as he spills himself inside you. Releasing one of your legs he grips your shoulder and pulls you against him, keeping himself buried as deep as possible as he shudders, hips jerking against yours and you moan in bliss as you feel the warmth of his spend coating your walls, filling every last inch of you completely.

Eventually he releases your other leg and falls against you, though you keep your legs wrapped around his waist as you run your hands across his shoulders and catch your breath.

“Fucking made for me, darling,” he pants into your neck. “Could fuck you all night. My god."

You can only make a sound that’s a cross between a protest and a laugh at his admission.

"Hmm, maybe not this time." His low chuckle vibrating through you. "But you are going to give me one more."

You laugh again, not thinking that he could be serious as he pushes himself back up to kneeling, but when you look up at him you catch the rough glint in his eyes as he watches you expectantly.

“Wait, you’re not..I already- ”

"And I," he cuts you off with a quick thrust, "already told you that you're going to come as many times as I want.”

You shake your head, incredulous even as you become distinctly aware that he’s still hard inside you.

"Jesus, I- Ulysses, I really don't think I can."

"It also seems like you still have a few too many thoughts in that head of yours, don’t you?" He taunts while his hands slide across your hips and up the curve of your waist.

"Yes," you whisper, dropping your head as you recognize your own words spoken back to you.

"I want that to stop." He thrusts again, slowly, and the squelching slide back into you has you groaning as he watches the mess of his cum mixed with your release leaking out from where you're joined, dripping down to stain the fabric beneath you.

Gathering some of the mixture from where his cock still stretches you open Klaue drags his thumb back up to your clit, using the sticky slick of both of you to slide just around the over-sensitive bud and you whimper as eddies of heat start to swirl again, unable to help the rock of your hips as he teases your aching flesh.

“There she is,” he hums as your muscles flutter around him, but it’s still so much and you can't quite let yourself submit to it. Squeezing your eyes shut you try to just focus on your breath as he continues to gently nudge your clit with a slippery thumb.

"Are you fighting it?" he asks, a fierce mirth in his voice. "That isn't going to work."

You reach your hands up to grip the slats of the headboard, and though you’re not sure whether it’s to brace yourself or to pull away Klaue seems to take it as the latter because he's gripping your hips and pulling you firmly against him, sliding his cock back into you in an agonizing grind, more of his cum leaking out of you as he presses deep.

“Please, let me feel your perfect, greedy cunt squeeze my cock one more time."

The unexpected neediness in Klaue's voice sends another thrill of heat through your core.

“I want to. For you.” You sigh, licking your lips when you feel him twitch inside of you at your words.

“Then just breathe, darling.” The low grit of Klaue's voice soothes you as he slides his hands up your thighs and stomach to cup your breasts, brushing over your nipples before rolling them gently between a thumb and forefinger and making a satisfied grunt when you clench around him.

Reaching further up he tugs at your arms, coaxing your hands away from the headboard and positioning them behind your knees so that you can hold yourself open for him.

“Just like that.” His words are deep and pleased as he admires you, a hand moving to your cheek, and you can’t help pressing into his palm.

When his thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth you unconsciously turn your head to flick your tongue out and then he’s quickly pushing past your lips, letting you swirl your tongue around the digit for a few moments before pulling it out and sliding his first two fingers in to replace it, a heated grin curling his lips as he feels you relax into his touch.

“Just need everything, don’t you?” His eyes are a tempest blue as he looks down at you.

You can only hum around his fingers in reply, keeping your eyes on his as you take them deeper into your mouth, sucking and sliding your lips around them, and then he's pressing against your tongue, fingertips reaching the back of your throat so that you gag slightly, the ripple running from your neck down your spine to where you arch and roll your hips.

He continues this until your eyelids get heavy, your mind slipping away as he fucks his fingers into your mouth, his other hand returning to your center where he rests his thumb just against your clit, allowing you to take what you need, the rock of your hips becoming more insistent as you feel the heat of the orgasm he wants from you starting to rise.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth he instead grips your thigh below where where your own fingernails are digging crescents into your skin as the pleasure swells up, every muscle taut, your cunt tightening around his girth until you’re almost pushing him out but he ruts forward to keep himself seated deep inside of you.

“There you go, I can feel it.” Klaue's face is a mask of concentrated lust coloured by an unnamed emotion that slides beneath his features. “So, do I know what you need, then, darling?”

You can only nod your head and keen as you hang over the edge.

“Say it.”

“You know what I need Ulysses, ohh don’t stop- ”

Your climax is sharp and bright as you tip over the edge with a choked cry, and you dimly hear him groaning your name as you come undone around his cock one more time. Light burns behind your eyelids as his thumb rubs firm circles on your clit, teasing out every little jerk of your hips, every last clenching wave of pleasure you’ll give him. Finally, it’s too much and you reach down to grab at his hand in protest and mercifully he lets you pull his fingers away from your overwrought sex as you finally collapse.

“Ok,” Klaue purrs. “Ok.” Slowly, he eases his cock out of you and you both moan at the loss, but when he doesn’t move any further you blearily glance up to see that his eyes are fixed on your ruined hole with a look of pained reverence, and when you feel the warmth of it you realize that he’s watching his cum dripping out and pooling beneath you with the rest of the mess you made.

With a rough sigh he pulls his attention back to you, and sliding his hands up your thighs he helps ease your legs back down as the ache in your hips from being in this position for so long starts to set in. You’re limp and unfocused and starting to shiver from the sudden lack of him as you come down, so he shifts you over and pulls the clean side of the blanket over you, covering you as much as possible.

You’re not sure how long he stays there but eventually you feel him get up and walk to the washroom. Lying with your eyes closed you listen to the quiet sounds of water running as he cleans up.

Returning to sit on the edge of the bed a hand touches your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him.

“You should drink something,” he says softly.

You realize that he’s holding out a glass of water and you’re so grateful as you become instantly aware of how incredibly parched you are, but when you open your mouth to thank him you instead let out a choked laugh which quickly dissolves into surprised tears.

Laughing again as tears spill and streak down into your hair you try to turn away and cover your face, but he sets the glass down on the side table and you feel his fingers firmly gripping your chin.

“Look at me.” Klaue’s voice is calm but insistent. “You did so well, darling. You don’t need to hide.” When your eyes meet the seriousness of his the tension goes out of you, and you finally feel yourself starting to come back into your body.

“I’m ok.” You sniffle and swallow your tears. “Really.” After watching you intently for several moments he eventually seems satisfied and hands the glass of water back to you.

“Drink. Then shower.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed in underwear and a t-shirt, wet hair tucked up in a towel, you watch as Klaue finishes getting dressed.

“Can I ask you something?” You say softly.

“Of course,” he replies, his gaze inquisitive as he tucks in his shirt.

You’re not even clear on exactly what you want to say and there are about a hundred thoughts fighting to get to the tip of your tongue.

“How did you..know.” You try to bite back a smile, amused that you somehow feel shy even after what had just transpired between you. “I mean, I feel like I barely knew.”

He makes his way over to where you’re sitting.

“I didn’t, really. Not at first." He starts, sounding thoughtful. “But I wasn’t lying before, I did notice you right away in Utrecht. A beautiful woman alone? That’ll always draw the eye.” He says, grinning at your blush. “But then you walked right up to me and, well, I can’t say that’s something that happens very often. So you definitely had my attention.”

You look up at him standing over you, and even now you find yourself squeezing your thighs together at the sight.

“Then I looked into your background, and it turns out you're a bit of a risk taker, don’t like to settle in one place for long. Always looking for something. You intrigued me.” His eyes pass over your bare legs as he speaks.

“But then, yesterday,” Klaue pauses (and, god, was it only yesterday?), his voice dropping to that honeyed whisper again.

“The way you reacted when I touched you. The way you pushed yourself back against me, rubbing right against my cock.” You flush and start to look down, but he hooks a finger under your chin so you meet his eyes. “I knew I could get you to let go. I just needed you to admit it.”

“I might have sooner but I just..you throw me off balance,” you admit. "I don't usually need other people. I've always been fine on my own, I prefer it, honestly. But every time I would see you it felt like I couldn't look away. I tried not to think about you, and I did actually manage for a while. But then that guy attacked me.”

Klaue’s eyes go dark at the reminder.

“The way touched me, and told me I had to rest.” You shiver at the memory of his firm command. “Then I really couldn’t stop thinking about you. Or your hands, for that matter. And I..”

He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“That night was the first time I thought about you, when I touched myself.” You sigh, letting your legs drift open slightly.

Klaue's breath quickens and he leans down to curl his fingers around your elbow, pulling you to standing.

“When you say things like that to me, darling," he grits out, both hands gripping your hips, and you brace yours against his chest. "You said you didn’t know yourself, but you could have fooled me."

“I’m- I’ve never.. Listen, I’ve always liked it a little rough, I suppose. But any time I tried to ask for..more, guys would either shut down, or just not get it,” you shrug. “So I usually just let it go. It wasn’t worth the energy.”

“I’ll never understand.” Klaue shakes his head in exasperation, his hands sliding up under your t-shirt to find bare skin. “They’re all fools. The most arousing thing a woman can be is turned on. Every time I make you come, turning you into more and more of a needy mess, it just makes me want to do it again. And again. I want to find out what makes you feel good. I want to make you need me so badly it hurts, and then I want to be the one to give you relief.”

You can’t help the soft moan that comes from your parted lips at his words, but while you try to work out a more coherent reply his phone buzzes, and with a sigh he pulls it out to read the message before frowning and slipping it back into his pocket.

“I need to go,” he says, begrudgingly. “I’m leaving in the morning for about two weeks.”

Your stomach drops with disappointment, but it’s tempered by the realization that he’s telling you how long he’ll be gone.

“So, you want to see me again?” You ask, once again feeling silly at how bashful he makes you.

"I want to see all of you again,” he growls and pulls you against him, his hands reaching down to roughly cup your ass and angling his mouth to hover above yours.

“Ok.” you breathe, relief and anticipation swirling through you. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Because I haven’t forgotten that you said I could fuck your mouth, darling.” he murmurs against your lips and you press your body flush against his.

“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?” you start to reply, but then his lips are on yours, cutting you off with a swipe of his tongue and you quickly deepen the kiss in turn, but before long you’re interrupted again by the buzz of his phone and with a sigh he finally pulls away from you.

“One more question” you say as he moves toward the door. “You said something. Before.” You shiver as you think about the words he whispered in your ear the first time he made you come. “Klein” means small, I think. But “mot“?

“Smart girl,” he says, crooking a smile, and then after a pause: “Little moth."

It might be the first time he doesn’t meet your eyes, and you tilt your head inquisitively while pushing down the tendril of affection that’s blooming in your chest.

“I noticed that you sometimes wander around at night,” he offers, shrugging as if it were a simple explanation.

“How- ? You’re not even here most of the time!” He grins at your exasperation

“I told you that I-”

“Yes!” You say, bemused, holding up your hands. “Yes, you know everything that goes on in this place. You know ‘every inch of it.’” You smirk, making quotes with your fingers, parroting his own words back to him, now.

“Not quite yet I don’t.” His eyes slide pointedly down your body. “But I will.” Your lips fall open wordlessly as he turns and opens the door. “Think about me while I’m gone, darling.”

Then you’re staring at a closed door.

Goddammit.

It’s going to be a long two weeks.

A/N #2: Another quick note, that although this part is finished and can function as a stand alone story, as I mentioned in my WIP post, Klaue and Reader will continue to get up to shenanigans! I do have other things I also want to work on so I don't really have a timeline, but updates will be made as things move along.

Thank you so much for reading, I love you all!

#bringin' home the rain fic #ulysses klaue #ulysses klaue smut #ulysses klaue x reader #ulysses klaue x f reader #ulysses klaue x you #mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction

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volaenii · 10 months

Text

| Trigun Stampede Episode 6 Ramble

Before writing this whole thing I’m about to go on, I just want to say that i will be talking about major trimax spoilers, specifically for volume 10 as well as spoilers for tristamp (obviously)! so if you haven’t read trimax, maybe skip this post! Anyways, onto the ramble!

I’ve had this thought for a while now — since I’ve first watch stampede — but I’m dumb and don’t know how to out my thoughts into words. Along with this, I’m sure there are others who have made posts talking about this exact thing but I don’t care, I just want to brainrot and cry over this.

So, episode 6 of tristamp — “Once Upon a Time in Hopeland” — is the episode in which we as the audience are finally given a glimpse into Wolfwood and Livio’s childhood at the orphanage. And immediately, something stands out about this entire scene — the artstyle changes.

Instead of the typical CG/3D models that we the audience are used to, we are given this sketchy, simplistic, 2D animation style instead — almost similar to that of which you’d find in a children’s book. This of course, is completely different in comparison to what Tristamp had shown us previously. All the other flashbacks we had been shown thus far had still been rendered in CG. But this. This scene in particular is the only one with this art style. With that being said, it’s safe to assume that Studio Orange did this with the specific purpose of making this scene feel special and distinct. To make it stand out and to signal it’s importance.

Now, with that being said, why would studio orange go out of there way to make a distinct artistic style just for this moment? Not to mention, why make it only geared towards Wolfwood and Livio? Well… I think studio orange is going to use it in relation to Wolfwoods death.

Like, okay hear me out, I’ve seen some people say that there worried wolfwood won’t die next season (for whatever reason) but like THE DEATH FLAGS ARE ALREADY THERE!

LIKE!! THE FUCKING BELL?? HELLO?? JUST THROW IN SOME CONFETTI WHILE YOUR AT IT! (IM SOBBING SO LOUDLY)

But anyways, back on topic. I think they’ll use this 2D artstyle in a way to make wolfwoods death hit like a fucking train. Like… after rewatching tristamp for the second time, I couldn’t help but feeling like this whole artstyle choice is going to bite us in the ass later.

Like…y’all… I can see the fucking confetti falling in this artstyle…

Now, this last segment of this ramble is just gonna be me speaking in “what if’s” and just spewing out made up scenes based on this idea since obviously we have no clue what studio orange plans on doing. But anyways, here it goes.

So like…imagine studio orange finally adapting the couch scene, with Vash and Wolfwood having their last drink. Now obviously, the scene would prolly go similarly to the manga, with Wolfwood saying that he’s sorry for saying his smiles were empty and vash telling him to not say stupid things. Cue in the confetti beginning to fall, and in Wolfwoods perspective it shifts art style. And to make it even more fucked up, they could do the thing were it flashes between this and then back to the normal CG models; between Wolfwoods contentment of his death and being at peace with it — depicted like a children book — versus the CG — the true reality of it… the one vash is experiencing as he begs god for just one thing.

On a side note, I’m so so so fucking scared and excited for what Orange has in store, considering the fact that they’ve already paralleled the one fucking confetti frame from the manga (which I will not show cuz I cant look at those panels but if you know, you know) and like, I don’t know, I think I’m just gonna be a mess when that arc gets adapted.

Anyways, UH, I KNOW THERES PROLLY A POST THAT HAS SAID THE SAME SHIT BEFORE BUT BETTER BUT I JUST HAVE HAD IT IN MY BRAIN FOREVER SO UH YEAH!

Take these screenshots as a gift! 💕

Thanks for reading my dumb thoughts!

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigun maximum #nicholas d. wolfwood #VOLUME 10 SPOILERS BEWARE!#trigun analysis #trigun thoughts #I just think chronically about this idea all the time and I had brainrot so uh yeah #don’t mind me I’ll just be in the corner in tears #the couch scene is gonna fuck me up so bad #please I can’t watch ww die for a third time #volaetalks #trigun meta

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writergirl3 · 1 year

Text

4 Town General Headcanons ; Pt. 2.

Go read pt. 1 if you haven't already!

Aaron Z

Aaron Akira Zall, born January 1st 1979. His middle name was given to him in honour of his maternal grandfather.

We know he’s Blasian, but specifically his father is African-Canadian and his mother is Japanese, raised in Canada.

He has just one sibling, a twin sister named Arielle. She’s pretty much the exact opposite of Aaron, and while he loves her, his childhood as a twin meant that he got used to living in the shadows a bit.

At school, Aaron was bullied for his stammer and overbite. After that, he begged his parents for braces and would keep a straight face all the time. His parents paid for him to go to a speech therapist and his sister would whoop anyone who dared talk badly about her brother. Still, he remains sensitive about his teeth, despite them being perfectly straight, and that’s why he doesn’t smile with them in photos now.

Aaron got into sports because it didn’t require any talking and he found it was a great outlet to let out his pent-up emotions without verbally expressing them. He got into singing after Arielle roped him into karaoke at one of her birthday parties, and he got the same feeling that he did from basketball. He would sing in secret and rap as a way to work on his stammer.

We of course know that the Aarons are always marketed as a duo, and Z loves T, but he’s actually probably closest with Jesse. He really sees him as the big brother he never had, and can always count on Jesse to see beyond Z’s “I’m fine, just tired.”. He looks up to Jesse and wants to be as good a father as him one day. Of course, though, he loves all the other guys a lot, too.

When Z’s not playing basketball, singing or dancing, you’ll probably find him cooking (he’s an AMAZING cook, it’s his way of showing people he loves them), reading short stories (because he has no time for full-length novels) or watching a documentary of some sorts. I headcanon him as being an undercover nerd, and Jesse appreciates the grandpa jokes being hoisted onto Z whenever they find him glued to a programme about astronomy.

Relationship-wise, Z is unsurprisingly inexperienced. He always found it hard to deal with liking girls, and never knew what to say to them. Arielle would only make matters worse by trying to set him up with her friends, but Z always used his workaholic nature as an excuse for not finding anyone. With the confidence he’s gained in 4 Town, though, he’s slowly opening up to the idea of getting into a relationship with the right person, as he does want to settle down and have a family. He’s heterosexual, but always wants to learn about more diverse sexualities from T and Tae.

Tae Young

Yun Tae Young - yes, his parents did name him TaeYoung thinking it would be funny alongside the family name.

Born March 9th, 1983.

Obsessed with star signs. Seriously. It’s sometimes the first thing he asks someone, even before their name. He blames his mom for this obsession, as his childhood was filled with learning all about the constellations and what the different signs meant. Spend an hour with Tae and you’ll know your sun and moon rising, compatibility with other signs, EVERYTHING.

He was born in South Korea and his parents relocated to Canada when he was nine. Tae found it hard to adjust to the new culture and was always worried about being too different. He fell into the booksmart crew at school, but always wished he could embrace the more creative side of himself. When he decided to, he secretly auditioned for 4 Town and only told his parents when he was accepted into the group.

He’s an only child, so joining 4 Town was initially A LOT for the young boy. He came to embrace having four brothers from other mothers, though, and learnt so much from being enveloped in such a dynamic group setting.

We all know that Tae loves animals, and that’s because he had so many pets as a kid. This was to make up for his lack of siblings, and he’d keep all kinds of insects and reptiles in his room. His mom was horrified that he sneaked bugs, worms and snails into his room and eventually persuaded him to keep them in jars. When he saved up his allowance, he’d rescue small animals from shelters. After getting a bit more daring, he’d also help out animals like mice, squirrels and, of course, birds. Was it illegal? Maybe, but that’s just Tae’s signature blend of sweetness and sneakiness.

When it comes to love, Tae had one serious- or as serious as high school gets- relationship with a girl in his friendship group at school. He began to truly fall in love with her when he joined 4 Town, but couldn’t keep up with long distance calls and sporadic visits, so he called it off. Part of him regrets it, but he’s changed so much as a person for the better while being in 4 Town, and so the other half of him feels it was for the best. He told the boys that he’s bisexual early in 2002, but didn’t want it to be known publicly. He’s always on the lookout for someone to love.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

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grudgecollector · 2 years

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AHHH i’m so excited to see that you take breaking bad requests, such and underwritten-for fandom!!! could i please request some headcanons for dating badger? thanks so much 💗

Oh man I can't agree enough, when I first started looking for fics I was honestly shocked there wasn't more. Especially for Jesse.

And luckily enough I've actually already started writing those headcanons a few days ago! So absolutely I can 💖

—

Being in a relationship with Brandon "Badger" Mayhew

Tags/Warnings: mentions of drugs, fluff, nsfw under the cut

REQUEST INFO | MY BREAKING BAD MASTERLIST

please read my request info and check my bio before sending in any requests!

SFW

✯ He's a handsy person, he loves holding hands, having an arm around your shoulder or waist, having you sitting on his lap, etc etc.

✯ An excellent kisser too, soft yet passionate, he loves to have one hand bracing the back of your neck or on your jaw, he just wants to touch you.

✯ I've talked about this before but... the hugs this man gives are incredible. Very warm, loving, and safe feeling. The best hugs come when you're stressed or sad, he's just so caring and will bring you into his arms with no hesitation (and if you want it), hand softly stroking down your back and arms, keeping you securely pressed against him.

✯ He's a gift giver. It's his love language and that is definitely shown in your relationship. Perfumes, flowers, candy/chocolates (if you’re into that), movies, his own clothes, and sometimes things he'll find when walking outside like pretty rocks.

✯ The dates can be pretty cute, picnics in a clearing in the woods, him taking you to some local restaurants and diners, maybe even some out of town just for a fun little day adventure.

And the best one yet, going to the Renaissance Festival. What's better than dressing up during pirate weekend, eating a giant turkey leg while watching two people joust, and buying a sword and other interesting trinkets at the end of the day.

✯ Nights hanging out with Jesse and Pete are a must, playing cards or videos games while eating pizza. They were very quick to take you into the group when you and Badger got together.

And so as a result you were often at Jesse’s or Pete’s with a controller in your hand or sitting on the couch listening to your boyfriend ramble about another ‘script’ he’s written or a light hearted ramble about plot holes in a show he’s been watching.

✯ Since it’s Badger I feel like I’m sort of required to bring this up, but if you don’t do drugs he’s not going to be the type to try and pressure you into it if you give him a hard “No.”

✯ At night if you’re sleeping in the same bed, he’s not much of a cuddler (that’s more for when you’re both laying on the couch together), but he will have a hand laying on your forearm if you have your hand up next to your face, or a hand lazily laying on your stomach or waist.

✯ Will make you laugh all the time, whether it’s intentional or not, he’s just the type of guy who’s always funny somehow.

NSFW

✯ He's soft and sweet but he can be rough if you ask him to. A different side of him comes out if you beg hard enough.

✯ Not surprising to literally anyone but he's probably into roleplay, which is where this said rough side can come out.

✯ Loves having sex after smoking weed (but will only do it if you’re comfortable with that).

✯ He’s not very loud but you can hear the whispery curses and small moans passing his lips.

✯ I think he'd be pretty thick, but about average size.

✯ And is probably way too good at eating pussy. Like if he could he’d spend the rest of his life just doing that, he’s a fucking animal.

✯ Likes missionary not because he's boring but because he likes looking at you. Also loves to fuck with your back to his chest, both kneeling on the bed (or in front of a mirror) with him thrusting up into you.

✯ The easiest way to get him going is by sitting on his lap and kissing his neck while playing with his hair.

✯ If you were to give him a blowjob that’s probably the only time you’ll hear full moans come from him. His head thrown back on the couch, his hands coming down to the back of your head and trying his hardest not to thrust up into your mouth, or push you further down. He wants you to go at your own pace but oh god...

“Oh holy fuck... Baby please... Fuck you feel so good. I’m gonna cum-”

✯ He can also be pretty talkative too depending on if he’s high or not. If he is he’s definitely a bit more talkative, praises falling from his lips every few seconds, telling you “Oh fuck you’re doing so good.” or “Keep doing that- please oh god...”

✯ He’s a switch, he doesn’t mind being on the top or or underneath you depending on how the both of you are feeling.

✯ For anything particular he may be into I’d say he likes having his hair pulled, cockwarming, and I could be projecting but he probably has a bit of a breeding kink.

#violet writes #badger brba x reader #badger brba imagine #badger brba reader insert #badger breaking bad #brandon mayhew imagine #brandon mayhew x reader #brandon mayhew reader insert #brandon badger mayhew #brandon mayhew #brandon badger mayhew x reader #brandon badger mayhew reader insert #breaking bad x reader #breaking bad reader insert #breaking bad imagine #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad x you #breaking bad #request

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frostyyyroyalmilktea · 1 year

Text

Morpheus x Reader High School AU

Summary:

A little High School AU where the reader gets stood at prom, but once her charmingly awkward classmate gets the wind of this, he decides that he just has to be the one to save her evening.

No warnings apply

author's notes: in this au Morpheus and his siblings moved to the US with their dad after their parents got a divorce. I headcanon them to be around 17-18 for Morpheus and Death, and around 15-16 for Desire. I had to adapt their names for the modern world so Death is Desna in this AU and Desire is Desirée.

For now, it's just a little oneshot, but if I have any good ideas for this AU I might write another part in the future.

When I was writing this I headcanoned that reader has pink hair, but you can imagine any other eye-catching haircolor you prefer ;)

Title inspired by Steve Lacy's Bad Habit but the song is not particularly relevant to the story, I just liked the vibes

Hope you enjoy!

***

“Morpheus!!” Desna—once again—barges into his room without knocking. She is the only one of his siblings to be granted such a privilege. Desirée on the other hand has learned the hard way to always knock and to never enter Morpheus’ quarters without an explicitly extended invitation.

“Sister dearest,” Morpheus acknowledges flatly, without looking up from his book.

“Do you have a suit?” Desna asks with a somewhat manic edge to her voice.

“Indeed I do,” Morpheus replies absentmindedly, engrossed in his reading. “For funerals and such.”

“Great!” Desna claps her hands. “You always look nice at funerals.”

Morpheus sighs, places a bookmark on the page he was reading, and carefully closes the book. Once he looks up, he can immediately tell from the look on her face that Desna has her mind set on some sort of questionable scheme and that Morpheus will be dragged into it regardless of his opinion on the matter.

“You’ll need to buy a corsage too, and fast,” Desna mumbles to herself, pacing the room back and forth.

“Not this again,” Morpheus rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Desna, I have repeatedly informed you that I am not going to prom. I have been asked out on multiple occasions and I refused as I do not wish to attend.”

“That’s because you were asked by the wrong people,” Desna scoffs dismissively.

“The only person I would like to take already has a date,” Morpheus grunts.

His sister clicks her tongue, exuding some type of emotion Morpheus struggles to interpret. “Not anymore,” she says.

“I beg your pardon?” Morpheus asks, raising his brow skeptically. “There is,” he checks his watch, “less than three hours left till the start of the main event, so unless Trevor Birghin’s lifeless body is lying somewhere in a ditch, I can’t imagine a good enough reason for him to not show up.”

“Well,” Desna starts hesitantly, as if she's approaching a wild animal. “It’s not that he won’t show up exactly…”

“Desna,” Morpheus presses with a chilling edge to his tone.

“It’s just that I overheard Trevor and Danny yesterday, and they were talking about who’s taking who to prom and all that…”

Desna takes a deep breath and proceeds to explain—in the most convoluted way imaginable no less—the trite and simple fact Morpheus was always all too well aware of: Trevor Birghin is a fucking asswipe.

“...and that’s when I remembered that at the start of the term,” Desna continues with her tortuous explanation, “Trevor said that he would love to take Christina to prom because, like, the whole quarterback/cheerleader thing, but she told him no because she wanted to ask someone else,” Desna gives Morpheus a pointed look, “but then she got rejected by that someone.”

“Are you implying any of this is my fault?” Morpheus asks, offended. “I have met oatmeal more capable of a riveting conversation than that girl. Can you blame me for not wanting to spend an entire evening in the company of her and her degenerate friends?”

“It’s not what I'm—” Desna starts. “I’m getting to the important bit, Morpheus, I promise. So Christina said no to Trevor, so he was forced—his words, not mine—to ask y/n because they kind of have a thing or whatever, I’m not entirely sure. But now that you rejected Christina, she decided to go with Trevor after all and so that leaves y/n dateless.”

Morpheus’ blood is boiling with righteous anger. He is not usually a violent person, but for someone like Birghin, he will be more than happy to make an exception.

“And I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it, love,” Desna adds quietly, almost apologetically.

“I’m struggling to come up with something that could possibly make this situation worse,” Morpheus grits.

“I’m like 99.9% confident that Trevor didn’t have the guts to actually tell y/n.”

Morpheus inhales sharply. “So, just to be clear, you’re saying that she is about to show up there without knowing that her date stood her up for another girl?”

“Mhm,” Desna hums, not meeting his eyes.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell her?!”

“And how exactly would that look, Morpheus?” Desna bites out. “I’m not even supposed to know about any of this. I don’t want to look like some nosy busybody.”

“While being one beyond any reasonable doubt,” Morpheus grumbles under his breath.

“Plus,” Desna adds, “I honestly think that y/n needs to clearly see the piece of trash that he is once and for all. She’s always trying to see the best in people, even when there isn’t anything decent there in the first place!”

Desna sounds genuinely distraught so just this once Morpheus decides against reminding her about maintaining personal boundaries of the people she barely knows. It’s not because he has a personal stake in all of this or anything like that, no.

“Why are you telling me this?” Morpheus asks, surrendering to the idea that there is no way he’s not going to involve himself now that he has all the facts.

Desna tsks, like she’s disappointed he even has to ask. “Morpheus, you know perfectly well why I'm telling you all this. You’ve been mooning over y/n since our first day at this school.”

“And she was evidently not interested,” Morpheus points out bitterly, “seeing how she went and got herself a thing, as you so eloquently put it.”

Desna flops down on the bed next to him, throwing her hand around his shoulders in a half-hug. “Morphey, darling,” she says softly, “that’s a load of absolute fucking bullshit. Anyone who had the misfortune to witness the two of you debate against each other in AP Lit felt like the biggest third wheel on this side of the Atlantic. This unresolved romantic tension makes people around you viscerally uncomfortable. Though I can’t exactly blame y/n for not asking you out. You did quite rudely reject—how many was it again, four or five—girls our first semester alone. I think you even made Mary Waylan cry.”

“Wonderful insight,” Morpheus deadpans. “Still doesn’t mean y/n likes me back.”

“Morpheus,” Desna sighs. “She always sits next to you in classes you share. Even the ones Trevor is in too.”

“Well, he’s an idiot and we get a lot of group projects as homework,” Morpheus argues weakly.

Desna rolls her eyes more dramatically than usual. “She remembered your birthday after I mentioned it once in passing, she got you an old-ass Lovecraft anthology for the said birthday, which made you possibly the happiest I have ever seen you in my entire life. She brings you coffee every Monday when you have calc together first thing in the morning because she knows you never go to bed before two am. She remembers all your odd opinions on Shakespeare and can refer to them months later, just to make a point to you about some poncy literary concept. She always says hi to you in the hallway even though you never reply and most people just think you’re just a pretentious brat, but I’m pretty sure she cracked you like a week after she met you and she’s in on the secret that you’re just painfully awkward when it comes to human interaction—”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Morpheus stands up, throwing Desna’s hand off himself.

“I’ll need to borrow your garment steamer later,” he grumbles, grabbing his wallet and car keys.

“I’ll see you at the venue, sweetie!” Morpheus hears his sister yell after him as he leaves the house and heads for the flower shop.

***

You stand in front of the entrance to a fancy-ass hotel, staring at your phone with a mix of incredulity and rage. This piece of human garbage only deigned to inform you that he can’t be your prom date mere fucking minutes before you arrived at the venue.

from: Trev🏈

hey quick change of plans

decided to go with the boys as a group

hope there’s no hard feelings, see ya at school😜

What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? All his friends from the team had dates last time you checked.

You open Instagram and swipe through the stories of a few girls you know from his friend group. Just as you expected, they all are still very much going with Trevor’s teammates.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s not like you’re even all that heartbroken over Trevor’s general shittiness right now. He hurt your pride, obviously, but not really your feelings. Right from the start of your situationship with him, he was barely more than a poor substitute for the person you actually wanted. Going with Trevor felt like a safe bet at the time because the idea that the person you actually wanted to go with would say yes seemed like an absolute pipe dream.

But you didn’t even ask Morpheus, the treacherous voice inside your head reminds unhelpfully. You convinced yourself you were doing the smart thing here, avoiding guaranteed heartache and embarrassment of being one of the girls he rejected. Right now, though, it becomes harder and harder to ignore the fact that you might've just been a coward.

Morpheus is probably sitting in some high-end coffee shop right now, reading Kaffka, or something equally pretentious, being all dark and handsome and utterly unapproachable. Definitely not caring about your inner turmoil about a stupid high school prom.

Someone goes in at that moment and through the open door you hear a faint reverberation of the song playing in the main hall.

“Yeah, I am an idiot with a painted face indeed,” you say to no one in particular.

“Waiting for someone?” A calm deep voice behind you asks.

For a second you genuinely believe that thinking about Morpheus so much gave you some sort of hearing hallucination. You whip your head so fast, you hear a crack in your neck.

It’s not a hallucination.

“What are you…? How…? You… I…” You ask very eloquently.

The corners of his lips crawl upward as he rather unsuccessfully tries to hold back a smile.

“My sister has informed me of the unpleasant predicament you have found yourself in this evening and I simply couldn’t stand to see a lady wronged in a manner so galling and distasteful.”

“Really?” You ask skeptically, raising an eyebrow at him. “Since when do you care about chivalry of random people's prom dates?”

“I care only about one,” Morpheus says quietly, looking down at his beat-up doc martens. Under the harsh neon lights of the hotel’s facade, you notice the faintest trace of blush on his sharp cheekbones. “About a girl with a hair color so aggravating, my eyes can’t help but be drawn to it the second she enters the room, the girl who can’t help but argue with me over every single stupid little thing, like a font for our biology presentation—”

“Hey! Comic Sans is dyslexia friendly!”

“The girl who completely overestimates the influence of Tolkien on English classical literature.”

“It’s impossible to overestimate!!” You shriek, mentally returning to the argument from two weeks ago that landed the both of you in detention, when Mr. Stevens accused you of purposefully disrupting his class and told the two of you to “get out of his classroom and go flirt in the principal's office”.

Morpheus looks up, meeting your eyes. You can tell he’s thinking about the same thing.

God, why does he need to be so beautiful?

“What I’m getting at here,” he continues, unperturbed, “is that you're not some random person in my life, and I would like nothing more than to be your date tonight. Would you be agreeable to that?”

He holds out his hand and you look down to see a beautiful black rose corsage. Very on-brand for him, you can’t help but smile.

“You’re so stupid, Morpheus,” you sniff, willing your eyes to dry before the tears ruin your makeup. “Of course I fucking want you to be my date, I've never even wanted anyone else to be my date except you in the first place.”

He seems taken aback by that but recovers quickly and starts carefully fastening the corsage onto your outstretched hand.

While he’s busy with it, you try to take a closer look at him. To be fair, even if he showed up in a Hello Kitty onesie, you would still think he is the most gorgeous bastard you’ve ever laid your eyes on, but he’s wearing a tailored black suit with a black turtleneck underneath and—oh god, his little pocket square is baby pink to match your dress!! This is literally the first time you see him wear something not black and he wore it for you. You just might explode from feelings™ right now.

When he’s done with the corsage, he doesn’t let go of your hand, but intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls the door open for you with his other hand. “After you, m’lady.”

This doesn’t fucking feel real. Maybe, you think frantically, you just inhaled too much hairspray while you were getting ready and this is all a delirious dream. Except the warmth of his hand in yours is very real and so are the double takes from your classmates milling around in the hotel lobby.

“Do you want to take a photo before we go in?” Morpheus asks, nodding at the huge full-length mirrors along the wall.

You blink at him dazedly before the question registers. “Yeah! Sure, yeah, let me just—”

You start rummaging around your purse in search of a phone when you realize it’s literally in your hand.

Morpheus smiles, amused.

“You enjoying this then?” You want to sound irritated but it comes out more…petulant. “Me making an idiot out of myself entertains you?”

“I just like looking at you,” Morpheus says simply. “Is that such a crime? Your emotions are always so…scintillating. I find it impossible to look away.”

How can he just say shit like that and be 100% serious while doing it, you think, while desperately trying to will your face into not going red as a fucking firetruck.

What a beautiful, brilliant weirdo.

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Thesaurus, we get it, you like me,” you croak awkwardly, opening the camera app. “Let’s take some pictures, I’ll need them for the PowerPoint presentation my mom will expect on how I ended up going to prom with a completely different guy than I initially told her.”

“I hope there’s a word amelioration somewhere in the title of that presentation,” Morpheus teases as he stands behind, wrapping his arms around you to pose for the picture.

You snort at the implication, relaxing into his embrace.

***

The photos come out very nice. Though with a face like his, there’s hardly a chance Morpheus could look bad in them. You don’t always like taking photos of yourself, but surprisingly you like most of the ones you took together Morpheus. Some of them are silly, with the two of you making faces, some are very prom-ish looking, perfect for showing your parents, and then there’s…

“This one,” Morpheus catches your wrist before you can swipe to the next photo. “I like this one. Can you send it to me?”

In the photo, you’re looking past the camera, at Morpheus’ reflection as he holds you gently in his arms.

“I look silly in this one,” you pout.

Bessoted would be a better word to describe your expression in the photo, but you’d rather lick chalk than admit it to him.

He doesn’t need you to, though. Morpheus looks at you knowingly, “No you don’t.”

You look down at your phone, feeling your cheeks going hot again. “How would I even send it to you?” You grumble just to be contrary. “With pigeon post? Gosh, who even has a phone with buttons anymore, aside from, like, grandpas? No, you know, scratch that. My grandpa actually has an iPhone 7.”

Morpheus just smiles at you indulgently. “Send it to my sister, she’ll print it out for me.”

Ridiculous. He’s absolutely ridiculous, you think as you type out the message to Desna.

to: Desna 🌸🔪

Local elderly citizen requires your assistance in procuring a photograph

attached file: ridiculousman.png

from: Desna 🌸🔪

you guys are so cuuuuuteeee!!!!

٩(❀ •̀ᴗ•́ )۶~♡

Desna has a tendency to text as if it’s 2010 and her enthusiasm can be terrifying and a bit overwhelming sometimes but she’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. You’re tempted to ask how the hell did she know Trevor was gonna bail on you tonight, but in the end, you decide that you don’t really give a shit. The only thing that matters is the outcome and looking at Morpheus fumbling with the tickets—he printed out the QR codes on an actual piece of paper because he’s a literal grandpa—you think that the outcome has literally exceeded all your expectations. Come to think of it, you should probably send Desna a fruit basket or something.

***

author's note: I'm still not over the fact that Tom Sturridge has a phone with buttons and without access to the internet😂 Good for him though, I hope he's thriving

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine #morpheus x you #the sandman imagine

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