#i handle annoyance so poorly

[ellemj]

Breathe: Part 1

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic

Summary: Bucky hates the way you take unnecessary risks in the field, the way you're so mesmerizing and yet so hard to work with, and he especially hates the way you get on your knees for him during a dangerous mission. Finding out how pretty you look on your knees is the last thing he needs.

Warnings: profanity, enemies to lovers type vibe, Bucky being a moody yet protective little shit, teasing, prelude to smut

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: I've been thinking on this one for weeks, working on it slowly but kept getting stuck with the dialogue. Happy to say that I was inspired tonight and finished enough of it to post for you guys 🖤

            The handgun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, the black backpack with a few extra magazines and various pieces of tactical gear, and the determined look in your eyes all tell Bucky one thing. He has a very limited window of time to convince you not to do this, to get you to think rationally and not get yourself killed. He watches in silence as you zip up the backpack and drop it on the floor by the front door of the safehouse. There are so many ways he could choose to go about this, but he has no idea which method is going to get you to sit your ass down and stay out of the line of fire that you’re so set on heading into.

            You’re kneeling down lacing up your boots when you feel Bucky’s stare. You dare to glance across the living area, taking in the sight of him on the couch. He sits there with his feet spread on the floor and his elbows resting on his knees. His leather-gloved hands are clasped in front of him, hiding both flesh and vibranium from your gaze. The way he’s staring at you is enough to make you question your entire poorly thought-out plan, enough to make you want to kick your boots off and follow the stand-down order you received from SHIELD less than an hour ago.

            “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him, trying to use some form of telepathy to get him to stop.

            “Why are you so set on doing this?” He responds with a question of his own. He leans back now, resting his back against the couch cushions. His eyes never leave you.

            “We’ve worked on this for months. If we stand down, if we don’t pull this off tonight, we won’t ever get another chance.” You remind him, rising to your feet and lifting your backpack up to sling it over one shoulder. Bucky’s quick to push himself off of the couch and cross the room, coming to stand a foot in front of you. He reaches for the backpack strap on your shoulder but you dodge his outstretched arm with ease. A look of annoyance spreads over his features and he ends up planting one hand on his hip while the other moves up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

            “So, what’s your plan then, huh? Go out there alone and get yourself killed because you don’t know how to follow orders?” Bucky’s tone displays every bit of exasperation he’s feeling. This is why he doesn’t like being in the field with you. You’re unpredictable and dangerous, you do things your own way no matter what anyone says. He can’t stand it.

            “That sounds about right, are you not okay with that?” You’re turning on your heel and gripping the door handle as the words leave your mouth. You’ve only tugged it open an inch when Bucky steps close behind you and flattens a gloved palm against the surface of the door, forcing it shut once more. He’s so close that his chest is brushing against your backpack and you can smell the faintest hint of his cologne. Your resolve crumbles more and more with every second that he stands this close to you. If he keeps this up, you’ll give in and let the target slip through right through your fingers.

            “I’m not letting you leave.” His tone indicates that he’s most definitely not bluffing. He keeps his hand against the door, his chest grazing your backpack, and his vibranium fist clenched at his side. You’re still, holding your breath, as your eyes follow Bucky’s right hand. He slides it slowly down the door until the material of his glove is gliding over the back of your hand that still holds the door handle. The touch feels so intimate, so intentional, and yet, it’s pissing you off more than anything. You don’t fight against him when he pulls your hand away from the handle, letting it fall down to your side. You watch as he turns the lock with a metallic click.

            Bucky thinks he’s won, he thinks he’s convinced you to put this insane plan aside. You didn’t swat his hand away when he touched yours, you didn’t even stop him when he locked the door. He’s feeling the tiniest bit of relief when you turn around in the small space that he’s given you between his body and the wooden door. He stands there looking down at you, noting the stormy look in your eyes and the palpable tension in the air.

            “I’m going.” His eyes dart down to your lips as you speak in a quieter voice than before. “You can physically try to stop me, or you can go with me.”  When he meets your gaze again, he imagines himself physically stopping you. He’s so much stronger, he has every advantage. He knows that you know that. But you also know that he won’t hurt you, you know that when presented with those two options, he’s going to take the latter.

            That’s how you end up parking the car down the street from a bustling, overcrowded bar. As you step out of the driver’s seat and shut the door, eyeing a few people stepping out of the bar a hundred feet ahead, you come to the conclusion that you need to change up your look to fit in here. You tug your hair out of its ponytail and run your fingers through it as you step up onto the curb. Bucky’s shutting the passenger side door when he sees you mussing up your hair and putting on a bit of lip gloss. He surveys the sidewalk ahead and notices the small group of people standing outside of the bar talking and laughing, then he looks back to you. It’s almost laughable to him that you think you have to change a damn thing about the way you look right now. You could be wearing a trash bag and missing your shoes and you’d still probably end up with a roster of men to choose from by the time you leave this place. The two of you fall into step next to each other, heading for the entrance slowly.

            “What’s our cover?” He asks lowly as you near a few bystanders on the sidewalk. You think for a second, knowing that whatever cover you choose is going to have to be good enough to get you to the office upstairs for at least a few minutes. All you need is the right moment to slip up the back stairs and find any piece of evidence with the target’s new alias on it. Just a name, it’s all you need here tonight. “Coworkers having a drink after work?”

            You notice the way a woman in the group of bystanders ahead seems to be mesmerized by the super soldier who walks beside you. Something about the way she stares, with her mouth practically watering at the sight of him, does something to you.

            “Take off your gloves.” You whisper, moving a little closer to him so your clothed arm brushes against his with each step you take.

            “What?”

            “Just this one.” You bump his gloved flesh hand with the side of your own, indicating that it’s the glove you want off. He shoots you a slightly confused sideways glance, but strips the glove off and shoves it in the pocket of his leather jacket. When he feels your arm push against the back of his own, and then the sensation of your warm palm meeting his softly, his fingers intertwine with yours as if it’s instinct, as if it’s second nature for him. You no longer have to answer his question about your covers.

            The woman who had previously been ogling Bucky quickly averts her eyes when she notices the way he’s holding your hand. But she notices more than you do. She notices more than just his fingers intertwined with yours. She notices the way he turns his head and looks down at you with a softened gaze, with a look that would never have given away the fact that you’re merely colleagues. She looked away because she knew she couldn’t compete with you in his eyes.

            When you’re past the group of people and nearing the door to the bar, you drop Bucky’s hand as you step forward and reach for the door, pressing his chest against your back, he reaches around you and grabs the handle first. He leans in close to you as he slowly tugs the door open.

            “Are you sure you want to do this?” He whispers the question against your ear, letting his breath fan along the side of your face. You can almost feel his lips grazing the shell of your ear and it sends a shiver down your spine. You only nod in response, which leads to him opening the door for you fully and following you inside the bar.

            Twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a dimly lit corner of the bar with your back against a brick accent wall and a glass in your right hand. More notably, Bucky finds himself caging you against that brick wall, with his still-gloved vibranium hand resting on the wall beside your head while he leans down and ghosts his nose and lips along your jawline, creating an image for you both. An image that says we’re in our own little world. The strategy has done two helpful things thus far: it’s made a good number of people avert their gaze due to the obvious public display of affection and it’s made for damn certain that no one would question the two of you making your way to the upstairs office for an activity that involves less clothing.           

            Bucky can’t quite wrap his head around what’s happening right now. You’re letting him press his lips against the skin of your neck, letting him trace your jawline with the tip of his nose, hell, you’re even letting him drag his teeth over your earlobe like you wouldn’t stop him if he decided to bite down on it to see what kind of noise you might make. He doesn’t know why he’s getting so lost in the meaningless actions, but he thinks it has something to do with your intoxicating scent, or maybe it’s the way your breaths come in a little quicker and your chest rises a little more, brushing against his, every time his lips graze over the newfound sweet spot beneath your ear. He’s actually grateful when you slide your free hand into the hair at the back of his head and tug him away from your neck. If you’d let him keep going, it might’ve affected the long-standing disdain he feels toward you. It might have.

            “I think we can make it upstairs and search the office.” You say, slightly breathless as you try to bring yourself back down to earth. You’re peering over Bucky’s shoulder at the scene of the bar, still full and busy. No one will think anything of the two of you heading down the hall toward the restroom. No one will even notice when you waltz right past the restrooms and enter the door to the back stairwell instead. You feel Bucky’s flesh hand wrap around your fingers on your glass. He takes it from your hand just as you’re looking up into his blue eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” It’s the second time you’ve asked him that question tonight. You watch him closely as he takes the last sip of your drink, as if he doesn’t give a shit that your mouth has already been on the rim of the glass.

            “Do you really think these lowlifes won’t shoot us on the spot if they catch us kissing upstairs? They won’t even care if we’re there for the intel or not, they won’t wait to find out.”

            “I didn’t say we’d kiss.” You retort, letting your hand fall away from the back of his head. You rest your right palm against his chest and lean in close to him, putting distance between your back and the brick wall. You don’t pay attention to the way Bucky’s chest stops rising beneath your hand as your lips come unbearably close to his own. “We’ll do whatever we need to to sell it, to get out of here alive if we get caught up there.”

            Bucky watches as you give him a gentle shove and start heading away from him, down the hall leading to the restrooms and stairwell door. He thinks about grabbing you by your hair and pulling you back, telling you that this is dangerous and that there’s a reason this mission was sidelined earlier in the evening. As he sets the empty glass on a nearby table and starts following after you, his mind puts its own spin on the grabbing-you-by-your-hair idea. You’re passing by the restroom doors when he envisions a few other activities that would involve your hair wrapped around his fist. He has to shake his head to clear out the untoward thoughts, mentally kicking himself for stooping so low. Where is his head at tonight?

            Bucky had to use a bit of brute force to get the stairwell door open, and then he took on the role of a look-out while you carefully picked the lock to the office door. You’re on opposite sides of the room now, each of you searching through various filing cabinets and paper trails. Bucky’s starting to feel like the two of you are taking too much of a risk, spending too much time up here while being unable to find even a crumb of evidence. It isn’t until you move around to a desk against the back wall that you notice a small lockbox shoved beneath the piece of furniture.

            “Over here.” You whisper, pulling the small metal box out and setting it on top of the desk. Bucky’s next to you in an instant, inspecting the box as you fiddle with the lock. “I can probably get into it, just listen for anyone on the stairs.”

            The lockbox contained exactly what you needed and a little more. Instead of finding one new alias, you found two. You found two brand new passports with different fake names, but both with passport photos matching your target. Bingo. Bucky’s standing behind you, looking over your shoulder at the two passports. He reaches around you and plucks them from your hands, quickly using his phone to snap a picture of each before dropping them back in the box. You’re putting the lockbox back into place beneath the desk when you hear the sound of distant voices and the bottom stairwell door handle rattling. This would be about the time that your target’s security team is figuring out Bucky jammed the stairwell door back into place, rather than shutting it normally. He rightfully assumed it would make it harder for anyone to follow the two of you up here. Harder, but obviously not impossible. You feel adrenaline surge through your veins as you turn to face Bucky head-on, your eyes widening as he searches your expression for any indication of your next move. We’ll do whatever we need to to sell it. It’s as if your earlier words are echoing in the space between the two of you. One more second of looking into each other’s eyes seals it. Bucky’s sure he knows what you’re thinking. It’s why he tugs his shirt up a couple of inches and starts undoing his belt with nimble hands. It’s why he pushes a few items away from the surface of the desk to clear it off for you.

It’s why he looks so confused when you drop down to your knees at his feet.

“What are you doing?” He asks gruffly, his eyes darting from the still-closed door and then back to you. When his gaze settles on you, on the way you’re holding the perfect position with your knees on the floor and your ass resting on your feet, he feels something brewing inside of him. He feels something building low in his stomach when you tilt your chin up and look at him through your lashes, like getting on your knees for him is something you’d do any damn day of the week.

Fuck.

“Get up.” The words rush out of his mouth in a harsh whisper. He needs you to get up. He needs you to get up and stop looking up at him like you want something. He can’t handle seeing you like this. It’s fucking ruining him. You don’t make a single move to listen to his command, you don’t have any intention of getting up from where you sit on your knees.

Then, he groans. Bucky groans. It’s a smooth, low, rumbling sound that slips past his parted lips. It slips past his lips because the way your eyes are locked on his is giving him the most sinful thoughts, the most sinful feeling. He scrunches his eyes closed but it’s too late, he feels blood rushing to his cock, the velocity of the turbulent bloodflow aided by the super soldier serum that runs through his veins. His cock is fully erect before the bottom stairwell door has even opened yet. When Bucky opens his eyes again and dares to look down at the irresistible sight in front of him, the sound of the bottom stairwell door being forced open spurs him into action. He needs you on your feet and bent over the damn desk so you can pretend you’re using the office to fuck. It’s why he slides his flesh hand around the back of your head and grips your hair, fully intending to pull you up and push you over the edge of the desk himself.

The softest whimper escapes you as he tugs on your hair. As if it’s second-nature for you, your hands move to grip his thighs at the sensation spreading across your scalp. Bucky freezes with his fingers mixed in the soft locks of your hair and his eyes focused as he stares down at you. You fucking whimpered.

——

            This is one of the rare moments where Bucky’s thankful for his vibranium arm, rather than resentful of the stark reminder of his past. His metal digits are wrapped around the top of the steering wheel as he guides the car down the highway, skillfully weaving in and out of traffic to put distance between the two of you and the bar. Normally, he’d be driving with his dominant right hand, but he knows that if he was doing that, you’d notice the way his knuckles are white with tension. So, Bucky drives with his vibranium hand on the wheel and his flesh hand resting on his thigh.

            You’re, for the most part, blissfully unaware of the affect that you had on Bucky in the bar, of the affect that you continue to have on him now. As you sit in the passenger seat analyzing the pictures that Bucky snapped of the forged passports, you don’t notice his tense posture or clenched jaw, you don’t notice the tent in the front of his pants or the frustrated look on his face. Truthfully, even if you noticed any of those things, you wouldn’t question many of them. Being tense and frustrated is a normal state for the man.

            “I’m glad we got his aliases, even if I’ll probably be benched for it.” You say softly, as you lock your phone and drop it in your lap. Bucky shifts in the driver’s seat in an attempt to get a bit more comfortable while still concealing the bulge in his pants the best he can. He hopes you’ll be benched. You’re always so damn reckless, going against orders no matter who they come from and risking your safety just because you have no regard for your own life. A moment of charged silence goes by before you start to wonder why Bucky hasn’t even offered an annoyed sigh in response. “This might be the first time I’ve ever gotten the silent treatment after getting on my knees for a guy.”

            This time you notice the ticking muscle along the side of Bucky’s jaw. As more blood rushes to his cock, he wishes you hadn’t brought it up again. He also wishes you hadn’t made him imagine you being on your knees for anyone else, because that just pisses him off. 

            “Why was that your go-to move?” He asks suddenly. You’re still at least half an hour away from the safehouse you left earlier, so you’re glad he’s decided not to stick with the silent treatment.

            “What? Getting on my knees?” Bucky nods in response, but keeps his eyes trained on the dark, winding road ahead.

            “It seemed like the right thing to do.” You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s not like Bucky had made any move besides unbuckling his belt. What was he expecting you to do? Another moment of silence goes by before you decide to ask him. “What were you thinking?”

            “Not the same thing you were thinking.”

            “Clearly.” You huff. You steep in annoyance for a minute before resigning to dropping the issue entirely. If he hadn’t wanted you on your knees, he could’ve said more than the simple get up that he muttered as you were mere seconds away from being caught.

            “I was going to bend you over the desk.”

            “And you were pissed about me getting on my knees?” You let out a laugh and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Hypocrite.”

            “My plan was more believable.” He mutters lowly, guiding the car into the left lane to move around a slower vehicle up ahead.

            “You don’t think a girl would get on her knees for a guy in a secluded area of some bar?” He doesn’t respond. It calls his confidence into question and suddenly you find yourself studying him from the passenger seat. With every passing second that he feels your gaze coasting over him, he prays you don’t let your eyes linger on his lap for too long. He has to know that there’s probably a plethora of women that would do exactly that for him. Does he really think it’s that unrealistic? “The girl we saw outside of the bar on the way in would’ve done that for you.”

            “What girl?” Bucky has no idea who you’re talking about. The only girl he was focused on outside of the bar was the one telling him to take off his glove so she could feel the skin of his hand. You scoff and roll your eyes.

            “How do you even survive in the field with such shitty observational skills?” Bucky’s growing tired of hearing your voice. He pushes the gas pedal down with a little more force, speeding around the car on the right. “She was staring at you.”

            As Bucky shifts his focus away from the argument that’s brewing between the two of you to getting back to the safehouse as swiftly as possible, he finds himself thinking about one single moment from tonight. When he tangled his hand in your hair and pulled on it, and instead of a reaction of pain or frustration on your end, all he got was your hands on his thighs and a sound of need, of want. You liked it. You liked it and he can’t figure out why that moment is burned into his brain. He wars within himself, telling himself to let it go, to bask in the tense silence for the rest of the drive. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip as he replays the moment, as he replays the sound in his head over and over. Refusing to let himself speak on the moment is what leads to trouble. It’s what leads to Bucky letting a deep breath pass between his lips, exhaling slowly as he decides to take a calculated risk.

            Bucky’s eyes never leave the road as his right hand moves from its resting place on his thigh and reaches over toward you. Not a single word leaves his lips as his vibranium hand remains locked on the steering wheel and his flesh hand slides between your head and the headrest. You’re frozen in the passenger seat, your eyes fluttering closed as his palm presses firmly against the back of your head. It feels as if his fingers are moving in slow motion when he curls them against your scalp, grabbing a fistful of your hair. Bucky’s thumb lightly circles over the side of your head, sending tingles all the way down to your toes. You don’t have a second to ask yourself what the fuck is happening, why his hand is in your hair for the second time tonight, why your body is letting it happen. You don’t have the ability to form a single coherent thought when his grip tightens and he tugs on your hair, forcing your head to tilt upward. You don’t even have the ability to stop your lips from parting, to stop the sharp inhale that fills the silence in the car.

            Bucky’s satisfied. Though his cock is hard as hell, straining painfully against the zipper of his jeans, he’s satisfied. He lets go of your hair as quickly as he first took hold of it, letting his hand move back to rest on his thigh.

            “My shitty observational skills picked up on how much you enjoyed having your hair pulled earlier.” Still, you have no words. You squeeze your thighs together as Bucky moves around yet another slow car taking up the right lane. You take a moment to look over at him, but he doesn’t turn to meet your gaze. Ever the safe and efficient driver, Bucky keeps his focus on the road ahead. His face looks emotionless, stoic. His body language though tense and brooding, doesn’t give off an air of uneasiness. It isn’t until your gaze coasts down that you notice the hard-on hidden in the shadows of his lap.

            “You liked pulling my hair, didn’t you?” He doesn’t respond. “You liked seeing me on my knees so much that you couldn’t stand the fact that it was fake. That’s why you wanted me to get up.” You accuse, watching him carefully. You see the way his jaw clenches again and you know you’re getting somewhere with him.

            “Watch it, you’re starting to sound a little full of yourself.” He warns. He can feel your eyes on the side of his face, studying him as he maintains his composure.

            “Oh, I’m sorry. You’d rather see me full of you, right?”

            Bucky doesn’t give any thought to his decision to take the next exit. It’s as if a dark haze clouded his judgment when you said what you said, when you made him think about you being full of him. The air between you is silent as he makes a right turn at the end of the off-ramp and steers the car into the mostly empty parking lot of a supermarket. With tensions rising, you take a deep breath and think about how this might be your last night in the field with the grumpy super soldier who’s always been so hellbent on doing the opposite of everything you would do. You should be almost relieved that you’re going to be benched for a while, that you won’t have to deal with his attitude and authoritative tendencies. So, why do you feel a bit sad about it? Why do you feel like you’re losing something?

            Bucky parks the car but stays seated, staring straight ahead at the darkened supermarket entrance.

            “I hate working with you.” He says suddenly. His expression is unreadable as you study the side of his face, as he continues staring ahead.

            “I—”

            “Let me finish.” He cuts you off. His tone alone is effective in shutting you up, and you press your lips together. Bucky runs a hand through his hair and lets out a sigh before turning to meet your gaze. His eyes flit down to your lips briefly, so briefly that you think you might’ve imagined it. He wants them, your lips. He wants them in so many ways. On his own, on his skin, on his cock. He has to remind himself to focus. “I hate working with you. You do stupid shit, you take big risks, you don’t like to listen to anyone but yourself.”

            Bucky’s eyes roam down to the exposed skin of your neck. He wants to kiss you there again, to drag his tongue along the column of your throat and make you tense up.

            “After tonight, once Fury finds out you went against direct orders, you aren’t going to be in the field for a while.”

            Bucky lets his gaze travel further down, coming to focus on your hands that rest in your lap. Such small hands, he thinks. He liked the way your palm felt against his when your fingers were intertwined earlier tonight. He liked it a little too much.

            “I’m going to be able to breathe knowing you’re not out there doing everything you can to get yourself killed.”

            His words set off a burning sensation in your chest. You feel your cheeks heating up, turning a soft shade of pink, as he looks into your eyes once again.

            “I can’t fucking breathe when you do stupid shit. Do you know what that’s like? Not being able to breathe?” He questions. You swear you see his black pupils darken impossibly more, dilating to hide more of his blue irises. You swallow hard before slowly, shaking your head. “I would’ve thought you’d know what that’s like, with the way you got on your knees earlier.”

            He can’t keep looking at you, not when you’re being so fucking obedient, keeping your mouth shut and listening to him say his piece. Bucky closes his eyes and leans back in his seat, pressing his head against the head rest and tilting his face up slightly. It’s quiet for a moment, but instead of the tension dissipating after he’s said what he needed to say, after he got it off of his chest, the air seems to be growing thicker, more electrically charged. He hears the soft sound of your seatbelt unbuckling and sliding away from your lap and chest. He hears the flutter of a few strands of your hair being tucked carefully behind your ear on one side.

            When your right palm ghosts over his thigh, right above his knee, he doesn’t move a muscle. You tread carefully, watching his lack of a reaction as you press your palm flat against the fabric of his jeans and start dragging your hand slowly up his lower thigh. He takes a deep breath, but keeps his head tilted upward and his eyes closed. When your hand reaches his upper thigh, your fingertips brush along the bulge straining beneath his seatbelt.

            Bucky’s clenching his jaw as you pull your hand away from him and press the release button on his seatbelt. You guide it away from his chest before using that same hand to trail down the front of his shirt. By hooking one finger in the belt looped through the waistband of his jeans, you’ve chosen your fate for this moment.

            Bucky’s eyes snap open and he looks at you with a mix of frustration and pure lust.

            “Show me what it’s like.” Your voice comes out in a tantalizing whisper as you drag the tip of your index finger along the ridge of his belt, looking up at him through your lashes.

            “What what’s like?” He narrows his eyes at you. Bucky knows exactly where you’re going with this, exactly what you’re going to say next. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to hear the words fall from your lips.

            “Not being able to breathe.”

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[cillianhead]

Cillian married to high libido wife

Yes yes yes yes!

Thank you for your request <3

In Your Car, I'm A Star || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, vulgar language, sex in a car, unspecified somewhat large age gap between Cillian and reader, general adult content ahead. I'd also like to warn that this is a bit wordy and rambly and probably poorly written but I hope you enjoy it anyways!

18+ Minors DNI

Insatiable little thing, you are, Cillian always said. Ever since you two had first met you couldn't keep your hands off of each other, the mental and emotional connection was there, of course, the love was real, and that made the physical contact so much better. His hands over your body, cock in your mouth, hands in your hair, you sitting in his lap... it didn't matter what you were doing, you just had to be touching him at all times.

You got married after a year spent together, and you'd go wherever he went, Cillian never wanted you to leave his side, he was madly in love with you, you were his muse, his everything. You two were devastatingly in love, two twin flames, you were meant to be together. No matter the age gap or what the public thought about you and how much younger you are than Cillian. Cillian didn't care, he just loved you for you.

Now Cillian being an older man, sometimes he can't handle your high libido. At first in your relationship, it was ridiculous how much sex you two were having, it was a constant. You'd go to work and then you'd see him and your clothes came off within a blink of an eye and you'd milk Cillian dry and then you'd still be begging for more. You've done it in every single room of your home, in his car, in a public park, and in other morally questionable places that you'd rather not discuss with anyone else but him. You've slowed down a bit but you're both at a healthy at least twice-a-day sort of thing. How could you not want to constantly ravish him? You have him all to yourself, completely wrapped around your finger... or maybe you were wrapped around his. He had learned ways to tame you like a wild horse, ways to get you to calm down like stuffing you full of his fingers, letting you ride his thigh while he worked, shoving his cock down your throat to mute your bratty requests. You always got what you wanted though... how could he ever deny you, his sweet little wife, of what she so desperately craved?

Now you were sat in an award ceremony, restless, knee bouncing up and down. A deep maroon gown was your outfit, pearls tightly clasped around your neck, you were dressed elegantly and stood out amongst the crowd, especially when you sat next to the one and only Cillian Murphy. He wore a sheer button-up, in complete black, he looked incredibly mysterious and honestly, you were ready to pounce on him like a jaguar would to its prey. Unfortunately, you were surrounded by hundreds of people, most of whom were some sort of important celebrity figure and you knew Cillian would hate to make a scene.

"Show's almost over, sweet thing," Cillian whispered in your ear, his hand slipped onto your bare thigh, in between the slit of your crimson dress. "Then we'll get outta here..." You knew he could feel your hungry eyes on him all night.

He hadn't touched you all night long- wait that's actually a lie, he'd eaten you out to settle you down a bit before you got to the venue but that wasn't enough. It never was with you. But the feeling of his fingers caressing the skin on your inner thighs made you feel like you could cum right then and there. Cillian continued to suggestively stroke your sensitive skin as the night went on. People would walk over to greet Cillian, but his hand was covered by the cloth of the table so no one could see his hand gripping onto your thigh in annoyance of having to talk to someone who wasn't you. He didn't stand up, he just remained seated, nodding along and smiling as politely as he could to this person just trying to make conversation.

As soon as you got the signal that you could leave, Cillian grabbed your wrist and pulled you protectively into his side, guiding you by your lower back out of the event and towards where he had his car. It was all too swift for you to truly process, having him push you down into the passenger seat before he himself sat in the driver's seat. You watched him as he leaned over to put the car in reverse, the way he looked back out at the road, one hand on the headrest of your seat, so focused and oh so sexy.

"Cillian..." You whined, he was driving way too slow and your home was way too far for your liking. "I need you now."

"I know," He smirked at you briefly before sticking his eyes back on the road. "Trying to get us home as fast as possible, love."

"No," You complained. "Need you. Right now."

Cillian glanced at you with an incredulous look before he swerved over to the side of the road, a bit too reckless and at this point, it didn't matter... you just needed to be fucked. It was a somewhat secluded area, a dimly lit backstreet that only the occasional passerby would walk at this hour. "Get in the back." Cillian hummed cooly, checking himself out in the rearview mirror as you slipped into the backseat, spreading your legs for him with anticipation.

"Cillian... hurry..." You whispered, he was combing through his hair, occasionally making eye contact with you through the mirror before he sighed and stepped out of the car. Casually strolling over to your side of the car. Cillian opened the car door, crawling into the backseat with you and connecting his lips with yours as his fingers trailed up your shaky legs. His touch was like a drug, you couldn't get enough of the feeling of Cillian's skin on yours, no matter how little or how much you got of it.

The kiss was wet and sloppy, tongues thrashing together, teeth biting down on each other's lips. It was like you were racing to see who could consume each other faster... harder... deeper. Cillian's hand reaches up and unzips your dress, the straps falling off your bare shoulders until he tugged it off of you completely. Naked and horny in the back of his car.

"Fucking hell," Cillian gasps out at the sight of you, jaw agape as he eyes you up and down. "What am I to do with you? Hmm? So fucking beautiful." He leans in again, attaching starving lips to the hot skin of your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin. "I'm the luckiest man in the world." You just smiled bashfully, Cillian was incredibly affectionate, especially verbally. He always told you how he was the luckiest man in the world or how you're a goddess that needs to be worshipped. You felt like it was the other way around.

You grabbed ahold of his coat, pulling it roughly off of him. "I love you in this shirt, Cillian..." You whispered, tenderly rubbing the palm of your hand over his chest. "So pretty." He just looked at you, eyes deeply filled with a wonderful concoction of lust and love. You knew that look, you'd seen it a million times; his lips parted, panting heavily, eyebrows knitted together, eyelids hung heavy, and pupils wide. It was the look of love. A look that said 'Take me, I'm yours'.

By now, you had straddled him, pushing him up against the backseat and unzipping his pants, you wanted to keep him in his shirt, you wanted to admire the view. In the backseat of his car, you slipped his cock out of his dress pants, the dirty act turning you on even further as you stroked him slowly, getting off on teasing him.

"Stop your teasing," Cillian grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he bucked up into your fist. "I know you need me just as badly as I need you, baby."

"Mmm," You caught your lip in between your teeth, rubbing your clit on the head of his dick before slowly sliding down on him. "I wish you could always be inside me, feels so good."

"I know, honey," Cillian leaned his head into the crook of your neck, taking in deep breaths as you began rocking your hips back and forth. "Ride me, baby, that's it... good girl..." He moaned loudly and desperately, hands gripping onto your hips with a sense of urgency, helping guide you back and forth on his hard cock.

You threw your head back, giving Cillian a show, tits bouncing right in front of his face and fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders. The windows fogged up and the car rocked back and forth with each rough movement you made.

"Fuckin whore," Cillian snarled, growing closer and closer to the edge himself, head hazy and eyes watching you intently. "Can't believe how fucking horny you are all the time, can never get enough of me, can you?" He tapped your cheek with two of his fingers to get you to respond.

"No, just love you so much... I want... you all the time."

"So cute," He chuckled, you hung your head low with embarrassment at him calling you 'cute'. "My pretty girl, hmm.... my angel girl, I love you." He praised. Your hands slid up your waist and groped at your tits, fingers twiddling your nipples, making you moan further. There was no doubt that if anyone were to even just casually walk by they could tell what was going on. There was no point in hiding it now.

"God... fuck..." Your eyes were squeezed shut, mewling at the way his hands held your body and the sounds of his fucked out gasps for air. "Want your cum inside me, please!"

"Y'know I'll give it to ya, sweetheart, you've just gotta go on and take it from me."

You immediately dove in and kissed him, mouths open against each other, not really kissing, just sucking in each other's air. You felt spurts of hot cum shoot up into you as you began unravelling yourself, moaning with satisfaction at the feeling of him filling you up.

"Come on, that's it," Cillian mumbled in your ear. "So good... fuckin' so good to me, baby love."

He coaxed you through your orgasm, knees giving out around him as you fully sank down on his cock that still weakly spat his seed into you. You bit down on his neck, a tear slipping down your face, probably further ruining your makeup as your cum seeped out of you.

You sat there for a little longer, panting, coming down from how hard you came. "Thank you... Cillian."

"No need to thank me," He chuckled, pressing a loving kiss to your temple before pulling you back by your hair to take a look at your tired face. "Look so pretty after you fuck me, my goodness, I'm so bloody lucky." "Oh hush," You shook your head, biting your tongue and grinning at him coyly. "You're so sweet to me."

Cillian kissed you tenderly, hands cradling your head as you showed all your love and devotion to each other in the form of a kiss. "Let's go home and rest, yeah?" Cillian hummed, you nodded as you slid off of him. In unison, you both let out your own whimpers of sensitivity.

By the time you got home, it was around midnight or a little past midnight. You both immediately went up to your shared bedroom and into the lovely en suite connected to it. You found yourself sleepily sitting in the bubble bath, back pressed up against Cillian's bare chest as he hummed a love song softly into your ear.

"Cillian." You whined, clearly drowsy but also whiny about something else.

"Hmmm?" Cillian's hands stroked your waist innocently. You knew it was innocent, he didn't intend to turn you on but it was too much for your little mind to handle... you and your loving husband... naked in the bath together... his hands on you... it couldn't be a better time in your sex-crazed mind to be horny.

"Please touch me," You whispered. "Please."

"'M already touching you, sweet girl." He whispered back to you.

"Hmph!" You whined again, acting like you were giving him the cold shoulder and pulling away from him. You liked playing hard to get. "You know what I mean."

"Such a spoiled brat," He sits up with you this time, pushing your wet hair to the side and pressing kisses to your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "You really need me again? Hmm? Your cunt is so fuckin' greedy, so cock-hungry, aren't you?" He growled, fingers slipping down and pinching your clit harshly.

"Fuck... please..." You moaned in response. "Please... I need you always, Cillian." "Fucking insatiable," Cillian groaned. "That's what you are. How is an old man like me supposed to keep up with you?"

"Not an old man..." You sighed, leaning back and resting your head on his shoulder. "Please... baby... Cillian... just need you to make me cum..."

"I can do that." He sucked a bruise onto your collarbone, slipping two fingers into your pussy.

"You're the only one for me, Cillian," You cried. "Only one who can touch me like this... only one who can make me feel this good."

"I know, love," He said smugly. "All mine, isn't that right?"

"All yours." You agreed. He kissed your jaw happily at your response.

He slipped a third finger into your hole, thumb rubbing pleasing circles on your clit. You writhed around in the hot bath, mewling like you were being murdered. Pleasure shot through you like electricity, Cillian's lips on you were too much, your mind going into overdrive as he whispered dirty things in your ear. And oh fuck, the feeling of his tongue licking up your neck quickly brought you over the edge, you spasmed pathetically, squeezing his fingers that still stroked at your g-spot. You couldn't really tell because you were already submerged in water but you were pretty sure you just squirted all over him.

"Good girl," Cillian nipped at your earlobe playfully, slipping his fingers out from your overstimulated cunt. He licked his fingers clean, moaning like a madman at the taste of your cum on his sticky fingers. "Sweet girl."

"More." You demanded in a whisper. "Want more." "'Course you do," Cillian laughed, kissing your cheek. "Let's dry off, then I'll make sweet love to you in our bed. How's that sound, Mrs. Murphy?"

"Sounds good." You hummed happily.

-

I'm back! I hope you enjoyed!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

[papillon-stories]

Go Eunhyuk x reader ꕥ Argument headcanons ꕥ

OMG, I'm so sorry... ! 🫣 I was so caught up with classes and work!

I’m not blind to the requests you sent me, I just paused everything because these last few months were so intense. But I feel like writing about Eunhyuk is my only pleasure of the day (in my era delulu)

But I didn't give up, ehehe. In the meantime, here's a little headcanon, hoping you'll like it. I love you all! Please have an Eunhyuk in your life, it's important for your well-being.

Happy reading !

Warning : None, I'm kidding. No worries. Just my English.

He hates arguing with his s/o.

Most of the time, he is the mature one in the relationship. Most of the time.

Eunhyuk is generally very calm and not the type to start a fight, but he also has a bit of a temper.

In truth, arguments with Eunhyuk are very rare because he keeps a lot to himself, but like in any couple, arguments happen.

If something is bothering you, he will give you time to confide in him.

He wants to resolve the problem, but he tries to think about it on his own before discussing it with you.

It's important for him to understand the problem on his own (poor guy, he's going to get gray hairs from it).

If he can't find the solution himself and he sees that you're taking time to confide in him despite clearly showing your annoyance about something he might have done or said, he will eventually ask you directly what bothered you (at the right moment).

Generally, during a big argument, he prefers to leave if he feels his temper rising.

He doesn't avoid conflict, but he doesn't want to regret saying something mean out of anger.

Eunhyuk knows where it hurts, and when he's annoyed, he has a hard time holding back his words.

He can be very direct and straightforward.

He will take the time to calm down and come back to you when he's no longer heated.

You communicate a lot, and he doesn't want to be someone who leaves his significant other sad or angry at him... he doesn't want to be like his father.

Eunhyuk always takes your feelings into consideration and respects you a lot.

Because communication is good, but without understanding, it's useless.

If something annoys or saddens you, he won't dismiss your feelings and will simply try to fix it.

For him, there's always a solution.

Like you pointed out that this girl was crazy about him? She's already non-existent in his eyes.

But sometimes he finds your random outbursts of anger toward him amusing.

He finds it cute and doesn't take them too seriously.

"Why are you laughing? I'm serious."

There are no real reasons to be angry with each other.

Maybe out of jealousy?

YES ! In a relationship, he has no reason not to be honest with his feelings.

If something annoys him, he will probably take his time to talk to you about it.

He has enough trust in you to know that you won't hurt his feelings.

Despite his attitude, Eunhyuk is someone who thinks a lot.

He constantly questions himself.

The truth is, he will distance himself from you to sort out his thoughts because he knows that talking about it in the heat of the moment can escalate things.

You will notice his change and decide to talk to him about it.

Again, the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

But he knows that sometimes his silence can hurt more than harsh words, so he will come back quickly.

The best thing about your arguments is your reconciliations!

You cherish your relationship.

If he acted poorly, he will be the first to come to you and timidly apologize.

Conversely, if you are at fault, he will wait for you to take the first step.

He doesn't really expect apologies; he just wants you to understand his point of view.

Depending on the severity of the argument, he might ignore you at first.

Again, he needs time; he is constantly reflecting when it comes to you.

But he will never push you away if you come to make peace.

In essence, arguments are rare, but when they happen, you know how to handle them.

Thank you for reading ! Do you have any suggestions ? :)

#operation true love #operation true love x reader #go eunhyuk x reader #operation name pure love #operation pure love #pure love operation #go eunhyeok #eunhyuk x reader #go eunhyuk #eunhyeok #eunhyuk #go eunhyeok x reader #headcanon

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Could you do another story where Hobie Brown gets a death like Gwen Stacy (hobie brown x female reader btw)

THANK YOU AND I LOVE LOVEEEE YOUR STORIESSSSS 😻😻

I needed this angst. I don’t know if you meant like reader being the dead one or reader being like there to help him? So I just made the reader the dead one 😭 BUT OFC IM GLAD YOU LIKE MY STORIESS

Character death, angst, instead of the lizard it’s a symbiote

Death

Hobie has never handled death well. He’s gone through so much of it, his uncle, some random people on the street he couldn’t save, you.

Hobie doesn’t like to talk about it either, which is why not a lot of people knew. Except for Pavitr maybe, who was there to help him when he needed it.

Hobie could’ve saved you, it’s his biggest regret every single day not saving you.

He missed waking up next to you, or hearing your voice. The only way he remembered your voice was when he’d lay down at night, scrolling through his phone.

ding

Spider squad

Gwendy🥁- you guys up for a movie tomorrow?

Hobie swiped up on the notification, ignoring it for now.

Pav 👾- Sure, what movie?

He groaned in annoyance at the notifications and swiped up again. His phone was cheap and didn’t exactly have a do not disturb option or even a silence button.

Miles🤺- Sure (￣▽￣)

Gwendy🥁- Hobie?

Pav👾- He said he’s busy tomorrow):

He stopped swiping at the notifications and thanked Pavitr in his head.

He was lying, Pavitr would probably be in his universe any second now-

“Yo, Hobie!” He called out, knocking on the door to his boat.

Hobie groaned again, standing up and answering the door.

“Hey man, what’s up?” He said tiredly, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded.

“I was just wondering if you’re okay. You weren’t answering-“ he showed Hobie his phone an the messages.

“Oh, yeah, I was sleepin’. Sorry.”

Pavitr gave him an “are you serious?” look. He saw right through him.

“I’m fine.” He shrugged and opened the door more for Pavitr to come in. He stepped through the messy floor, avoiding the canned bottles and glass bottles of beer just thrown onto the ground.

“Hobie.. you need to clean up.”

—————————————————————-

After the whole cleaning his boat thing, Pavitr said he had to go and finally Hobie was left alone.

He changed out of his jeans, shirt and jacket, and quickly started to go back on his phone.

His fingers stopped when he stumbled onto a post.

“We miss you so much. It’s been one year tomorrow. You’ll be forever in our hearts.”

Underneath there was a picture of you smiling widely, Hobie standing next to you with his hands on your back, with a small smile, looking at you with his eyes full of love. Along with your friend and her boyfriend next to you both.

Scrolling down some more he came across a photo of just you two. You were both smiling, and then in the one under, kissing.

He stared at the photo for a while, smiling at it slightly. Then he remembered that you were gone. You could never come back. And he should have checked on you.

It was senior prom, Hobie rambled off in your ear about how much he hated these things.

“You’ll be fine, Hobs.” You put your hand on his.

“It’s not that, you know, the public school system is-“

“Underfunded and treats kids poorly, and is worse than a prison? It’s okay to be nervous.

He stayed silent for a moment.

“Yeah, you’re right. Who cares anyways? We’re gonna be the schools hottest couple." He said with a small smirk on his face, you smiled and kissed him.

“No kissing in my car!” Your friend joked, making you all laugh.

Once you reached the school, you all stepped out and went inside, paying of course.

After an hour you felt odd… you looked down at your arm and saw a liquid goo climbing up your arm.

“Hey, hobes, I’m gonna go to the bathroom.. okay?”

“Yeah.” He said, giving you a small kiss before you left.

A few minutes later, That’s when a giant creature ran towards them all, everyone screaming and yelling.

Hobie narrowed his eyes and quickly changed, and fought the creature. The creature growled at him, and almost seemed like it was trying to not fight him. The creature put its hands up, the color on it turning a gray.

Hobie furrowed his eyebrows, and stopped what he was doing.

For some time, you regained control over it, until it started to get angry. It wasn’t you, it was like it was controlling you. The creature said “Stop.” In a deep voice

You suddenly no longer had control, and the creature started to attack your boyfriend. you desperately pleaded against it.

A ton of cop cars and ambulances made loud noises, making the creature stop and turn, the noises of the cars rang out and hurt the creatures more sensitive ears.

The creature slithered away, your body going limp and falling to the ground, Hobie catching you first.

“Wh… no, no, no, no, no, no.” He quickly held you now, on the floor.

“Hobie.. it’s not my fault. Hobie-“ you grabbed onto his suit tightly, he shushed you.

“I believe you, love. Sh. It’s okay..” he mumbled. “Stay with me, yeah? I’ll get you home.” He said, as quiet and calm as possible.

You looked at him, with a small smile and your hand was now on his cheek. He leaned into it and smiled.

“I love you.” You mumbled quietly, and that caused his eyes to go wide. Your eyes started to close and Hobie slapped you lightly.

He cried out your name, and the cops caught him doing so.

They were about to shoot when he ran away, giving you one last glance.

He would never forget that day, or the days he spent without you. His graduation, when he bought this place, when he got invited to the spider society shortly after.

Hobie brown had always been bad with death, but especially bad with handling yours.

————-

Tag list:

@enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorrxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo @hobiebrainrot @anonima-2 @melda0m3

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spider punk #spider punk x y/n #spider punk x reader

[seraphofthesimps]

Yandere! Shuji Hanma x Reader

TW: violent themes, kidnapping, drug use, guns, knives, non-consensual actions, mentions of murder, blood, female reader

Word count: 3918

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" You heard his voice taunt you as you stumbled through the poorly lit room, trying to be as quiet as possible. You already tried crying, screaming, begging for him to stop this, but there was no reasoning with him. This was not the same Shuji you thought you knew. The only choice that remained: escape. Leave and never look back. That would be easier said than done though. Every door, every window was a dead end. Every route strategically blocked, locked, and a few even sealed off permanently, impossible to breach. Hanma had once taught you how to pick locks and force a door open, but that would not work in the slightest here. The locks on these doors were unlike any you had ever seen, resembling contraptions you thought possible only in horror films. The bars on the windows were reinforced, and the glass itself was frosted so that no one would be able to see in either. Hope all but disappeared when you opened one door, to find it blocked by a cement wall. It was obvious by now, help would not be coming for you. If you wanted to get out, you would have to find a way to do it yourself.

"Sweethearttt," the nickname now sounded anything but sweet, "it's no fun if you don't play with me. Make a noise and I'll come give you a kiss." The sound of his voice getting closer and closer heightened the panic that had long ago set in and you picked up your pace, making your way to another door. Taking a deep breath, you reached out and twisted the handle, praying that the door wouldn't creak as you pulled it open. It didn't. Finally, a stroke of luck in this hell house. Entering another dark room, you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Stumbling into the leg of a table, you heard the door behind you slam shut, freezing you where you stood.

"Caught ya!" He yelled as he took you by surprise from behind again. This time, taking you into a tight choke hold, one hand pried your mouth open. You felt a quick, harsh kiss to your temple as he placed something bitter on your tongue and forced your mouth shut. "Swallow it." Not trusting him, or the pill dissolving on your tongue, your jaw tightened and tried to resist, but he was prepared. His large hand tightened its grip and began to move, forcing the pill to naturally move about in your mouth until it was threatening to fall back. "I'm not asking, Sweetheart. Swallow my fucking candy." He tightened his chokehold on you with a growl of annoyance and you whimpered, gasping for air, and feeling your body betray you. The pill fell back causing you to choke. Coughing, trying your hardest to resist it, but to no avail. Hanma pulled your hair back until you were looking up at him, his expression as smug as ever, "Finally. I know you know how to swallow better than that."

Releasing the grip on your hair, he wrapped his arm around you, trapping you in an almost hugging position now. "Bet you're wondering what that was, aren't you? Too bad I don't know!" His maniacal laughter filled the room, as he excitedly explained the situation you were now in. "See I never quite know what each day with you is going to bring. You send me on a different trip every time we're near and I don't think you even realize it. So now it's your turn. Fair is fair. I'm going to show you exactly what that feels like. I’m going to make you understand how much I love you. You’re going to get addicted to me, crave every second we’re together. You’re finally going to love me as much as I love you if it’s the last thing we do.”

Not missing the fatal threat laced in his words, a new fear began to set in. Hanma had no intention of ever letting you go. He would do anything to die together. “I mixed up a nice bag of candy just for you. Some I found randomly - here and unfortunately, there,” a shiver shook through his body as if he was grossed out by his own thoughts. “Others I bought just for this little game. A few I even made myself! So, Sweetheart, which one do you think you just swallowed? Hm?" Your body went rigid as the realization that you were nothing short of a guinea pig in Hanma's new game set in. "You look scared. That's no fun. Let's get your blood pumping!" With that, an arm abandoned its grasp on you and reached deep into his pocket, jingling around the contents before retreating with a flick of his wrist. The sound of the flick couldn't be mistaken. Hanma had pulled out the pocket knife he kept on himself at all times.

"Ah Ah, I wouldn't get squirmy if I were you," he warned and you felt the blade come up to your jaw, dancing along your skin as his lips did the same on your neck. The sensation from his kisses mixed with the fear of the blade threatening to break the skin had your mind fuzzy, handing complete control over to your seemingly once sane boyfriend. His lips continued to trail their way up and the blade pressed ever so harder, resulting in a hiss from you that did nothing more than spur on his antics. "Do you know what I have always thought would look good on you?"

Your eyes shifted down the best they could, trying to recall what you were even wearing when you were trapped inside this prison. He caught the action and laughed lightly to himself. "I'm not talking about these, (Y/n)," he said as he simultaneously reached down to cut open your shirt while biting onto your ear and giving a light tug. "No, I'm thinking something much hotter than this." The knife teased it’s way down your torso and twisted, almost knicking your stomach. "How hard do you think I'll get seeing 'H.S.' carved into your side? What do you say we find out?" He asked with no real intention of hearing your opinion on the matter.

The sting you felt as the knife broke the skin had you writhing trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you only tightened. A harsh tone replaced his playful one as he reprimanded you.

"Stand still and let me enjoy this," he threatened. "Do you really want a trail of blood leading me right to you during our little game of hide and seek? Be a doll and take the pain for a minute." Holding your breath, you had no choice but to let him finish, wincing as he ran a thumb over his handy work. Bucking his hips into you and leaning his head back into the wall, he groaned. "So fucking hot. I want you to wear my name forever. Let it remind us that you belong to me, and only me." His arm that had been holding you in place came down to grip your hip, pulling you further into his hips. The knife was trailing its way down until you felt it trace your ass, "What do you say I give you some more?" The hand holding the knife quickly moved up and smacked his carved initials, causing a tinge of pain. "Run," he instructed, catching you by surprise as he unexpectedly released you, pushing you forward slightly. Confusion from his actions made you hesitate, but quickly run away when you sensed him leaning off of the wall behind you.

The rooms were a blur as you quickly made your way through door after door, hoping to gain some distance between the two of you. It was dark, and you were noisy, but if you could get far enough away, you thought maybe you could search for a good place to hide for the time being. After a few minutes, you made it to a room you couldn't recall from before. Hanma didn't seem to be anywhere near you yet so this seemed like a good point to focus on being quiet again. In the corner of the room, there was a door. Maybe a closet? Deciding to chance it with the discovery, you made your way over and quickly turned the handle, pulling it towards yourself without a second thought.

"Miss me?!" Hanma yelled out, hanging against the doorway from the other side. Immediately he reached out, putting a hand on your throat and bringing his lips to yours. His tongue forced its way in as you felt your back slam against the nearest wall. His kiss was aggressive as he used his tongue to deliver another pill into your mouth. This one felt different and had no taste. Your hands tried to push him off but his free arm came up and pinned one to the wall. Leaning into you harder and pressing his knee in between your legs, his tongue wrestled with yours forcing the pill to the back of your throat. His lips still to yours, his hand on your throat angled your head up until the pill was so far back you had no choice but to swallow. Feeling him smirk against your lips, he let go of you again, this time running off on his own, purposefully smacking something glass off a table as he passed. "Don't trip on that. Would hate to see you get all cut up before I get to you!"

Just as fast as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving you with no choice but to follow after him the way you had come. Somehow this was worse than him chasing you. The fear that you were walking yourself into a trap, instead of running to safety, was all too real. Pressing forward, the pile of broken glass caught your eye as you passed it, showcasing the last thing you would expect in this predicament. Carefully picking up a picture you would recognize anywhere, your mind began to race with thoughts of a better time, a sweeter Shuji. Desperate to get through to that side of him again, you clutched onto the picture and the memories behind it as you raced after him. In your heart you knew he loved you, and this picture you hoped would be just the tool needed to remind him too. But that was a fool's dream, as you would soon see.

Room after room there seemed to be no trace of him yet again. Stopping at another dead end you were tempted to sit and wait, the exhaustion from the chase taking a toll on you. The doubt you couldn’t shake wouldn’t let you though. The ‘what ifs’ ate away at you subconsciously. What if he really wasn’t the Shuji you had loved all this time? Looking down at the picture held firmly in your hand, you let yourself get lost in his smile. The smile, you thought, had always been genuine despite it being the first time the two of you had ever met. Anyone else probably would have ignored your request to pretend to be your boyfriend just to get you off the radar of a creep you had caught the attention of a few streets back. Not your Shuji though. Without missing a beat he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as if it was routine for the two of you, hugging you like you had been the only thought on his mind all day. The way he told you he missed was so convincing you swore you could have fallen for it yourself. It might have been your plan but he was the one running the show. When your brain halted from the stress, and surprise, of the situation playing out before you, he was ready to lead the way. No one questioned the speed at which he pulled out his cell phone, telling you his mom was harassing him about you not making it for dinner the night before and how he needed to show her a picture of the two of you together asap to assure her he didn’t mess up the best relationship he ever had. You felt your face flush as you remembered just how the butterflies in your stomach felt as you saw the two of you on the front facing camera of his phone. The heat of your cheeks rose remembering how your face showed every bit of how taken aback you were by how good he was at this - too good. Even he noticed it as he snapped a photo, quickly pulling away just enough to look at you, “Well that face won’t do. She’s going to think you really did break up with me.”

Something about the way he looked at you in that moment lit a fire within you, snapping you back to reality with a new confidence - a confidence that was as eager to please him as it was determined to lose the almost forgotten creep.

“Sorry, you’re right! I got a little nervous thinking about your parents seeing this. You know your mother loves to post our pictures everywhere.” He let out a little chuckle and gave you a knowing smile, impressed by the way you were able to bounce back fast from your horrible acting a moment prior. Holding up the camera in front of the two of you again, he posed for the camera while you made a slightly out of character decision to kiss him. It was innocent really, on the cheek, but the fact that he was a complete stranger paired with the compromising way you were wrapped close around his body made it feel like so much more. Without missing a beat you heard him snap the photo. The image it captured could have fooled anyone into thinking it bore witness to a smitten young couple, both parties completely enamored with one another. If the two of you really intended to send a photo for the reasons you claimed, this would have more than sufficed, but being swept up in the moment led you to a slew of photos, each one more natural than the previous. Before you knew it you had 14 different pictures and no real reason for them. The creep in tow seemed to have bought the act and was turned around, leaving the scene at a quick pace.

“This is cute and all doll, but I could take care of him for you.. for good. Just give me the green light,” he whispered into your ear as the two of you watched him retreat, taking care to make sure any nosey onlookers wouldn’t take notice of his offer, “and you will never have to worry about dealing with him again.”

The way his eyes seemed to burn holes in the back of the creep made you uneasy, causing you to feel almost guilty that you had made him a target of some sort. His hand tattooed with the kanji for “punishment” across is gripped tighter at the phone in its grasp and the weight of the meaning ate away at you. With a less confident demeanor about you, you gave out a shaky response and pushed out of his grasp, “Uh, no thank you. I don’t really support that kind of thing, even if he was a perve.”

“You don’t support that kind of thing?” he repeated back to himself, as if it was a question rather than a statement, “Oh! You thought..? Listen, I meant by making you mine. I was trying to ask you out on a date.” His other hand, you now noticed to be tattooed with the kanji for “sin”, came to the back of his neck and rubbed at it, letting out a laugh shy and contrary to the personality you had witnessed up until this point. “Thought it would be a lot easier to ‘fake date’ if we were really dating.”

If the woman you were now could travel back in time and warn you from then, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. What’s worse, you thought, was that you don’t think you would have been able to believe even yourself while looking at the man in the photo smiling back at you.

“Reminiscing on the old times without me?” his voice broke you out of your trance but not quick enough to evade his hold on you. Holding you tight from behind, he leaned over and rested his head against yours, peering down onto the photo. “God, you don’t know how much I love you. This was the start of it all. I swore from that moment on I would kill anyone that hurt you. Of course, I couldn’t tell you that.” his arms wrapped around you tighter and he snuggled into your neck as he spoke. An outsider looking in would have thought the two of you were sharing an intimate moment. Not even you guessed the sinister memories he was confessing to you. “The way you turned down my offer to take care of him told me all I needed to know. You, sweetheart, would never let me murder someone. So I did what any real man would and took care of the dirty work behind your back. The gruesome things we do for love sometimes.” His face contorted into a mix of rage and distaste for the memories he reminisced, but his seeming polar opposite personality disappeared as quickly as it surfaced. His signature flirty smile took over as he squinted his eyes and pressed a finger to your nose, ”Ew.”

The giggle he let out nauseated you as you really let his words sink in. There was not a shred of doubt in you that Hanma had killed that man from the day you met. You began to feel faint as questions ate away at you. Did he kill anyone else? Who? Worst of all, how could you not notice? Surely there had to be signs - red flags that a live-in significant other would never be able to miss - right? Was there anything you could have done if only you had noticed sooner?

“Oh don’t be like that,” he pleaded. Squeezing you into a tight hug again, he focused back on the photo, “If I would have been honest, you would have stopped me. I couldn’t do that after you had come to me crying out for help. I did it for your sake.” His thoughts seemed to linger as his voice trailed off for a moment, but not long enough. “You will see it my way soon enough. With enough of these,” he pulled out the bag of pills again and chucked a handful into his own mouth. You tried with all your might to pull away, thinking he was distracted, but his strong arms kept you locked in place. He wasn’t distracted one bit. Pulling open your mouth, the forceful stretch burning at the sides of your false smile, he leans over and spits the pills into your mouth. Your head is tilted back until enough saliva forces you to swallow or choke to death. Mentally you wanted to just choke, end it right here and now, but your body unfortunately still had some natural fight in it.

Just like that, he’s up and running again, maniacal laughs getting further and further out of ear shot. Scurrying to your feet you try to think of a new plan, and quick. A rational thought was hard to find by now in the sea of fear, adrenaline, and drugs. ”Think, think,” you internally pleaded to no avail.

That was when you noticed a light. Had it been there before? Was it flashing? Your vision had long been playing tricks on you from the exhaustion and what was assumed to be side-effects of whatever drugs he force fed you and now you weren’t sure what you were seeing. Real or not, you fixated on it. The light put you in a trance and you made your way straight for it. A corner of your conscience told you not to, but it was a lost cause. The next thing you knew, you were surrounded in the brightness of the next room, looking down at it - hope - in the form of a little black handgun laying on a chair. Everything about it screamed to you that it was a trap, but what other choice did you have? Picking it up without another thought you turned around to make your way back into the darkness.

This time through Hanma's lovesick torture maze, you had a new confidence about you. Trying to keep your guard up, you checked both directions as you entered each room, gun gripped tight in hand. It was quiet and the rooms were already thrashed from previous struggles so nothing seemed to be out of place to you. Your grip on reality was fading further and further the more you searched for your captive, determined to end this as fast as possible. The gun gave you one last plan of attack, but deep down you knew Hanma would always outsmart you.

And that he did.

"What do you have there?" He casually called out as he stepped out from a doorway to the left. The gun didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. He almost sounded cocky even.

"Shhhh, calm down," he coos as he kisses a tear running down your cheek. His free hand smoothed back against your hair, rubbing your head as he continued his attempts to calm you. "Calm down, calm down. Why are you getting so worked up, babe? It's not like I did this," he whispered and your eyes snapped open as you heard the click of the trigger. The next second seemed like a lifetime as you waited for everything to stop. It was bittersweet in a way that it never did. The relief you felt when you realized the gun might not be loaded began to trigger a laughter rumbling through your chest, almost too unreal to believe. As soon as it started Hanma's laugh rang out loud and he loosened his hold around you just a bit. "That's it, that's IT! You feel it now - the excitement you give me every day. THAT is what it feels like to be in love with you. Never knowing what's next," he spins you to face him and his hand is around your throat instantly pinning you to the nearest wall. "Never knowing if I might just," click the trigger sounds off against your jaw as he grins down upon your shaking form, "DIE from loving you."

Just like that, there it was again - that uncontrollable laugh encouraging him to continue toying with you. His grip on your throat tightened as he got excited and he kissed the barrel of the gun before placing his forehead against yours to look you right in your eyes. All your laughter ceased almost as fast as it started, replaced with intense cries as you felt yourself melting under his gaze. This was the look you once swore you needed to fall asleep to every night, that you needed so much you could dream of it, but this wasn't the same Hanma at all behind those eyes.

"Please, stop this."

#yandere hanma shuji #yandere Tokyo revengers #yandere Hanma x reader #yandere Tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo revengers x reader #Hanma shuji x reader

[horrornvnfan]

a ranking list of if I met yandere vn love interests irl, who would i date!

i love all of these games and characters a lot, this isn't a "best game" list, just as realistic compatibility as i can imagine!

ren/redacted: 14 days with you (i'm a simp and a fool 😔🤘 we will date and i will inevitably pay the price)

ezra: restart heart (should be #1 bc they're somehow the healthiest choice i think? also very pretty and flirty)

friend: see thru need a friend (he's funny and fun and i love friends to lovers trope! i can fix him 😌💖 probably not.)

jack: swwsdj (he is so supportive which i love but i CANNOT trust ghosts. would be the slowest burn ever)

alan: my dear hatchet man (super bad idea but he's charming!! if i just never found out about the murder we'd probably be cool. also don't kidnap me.)

liu: glass mind (very cute! but i think he is possessed and idk how to help so not sure about going steady!)

fone: honey hotline (i genuinely really like fone! 🥰 but i think we might be better friends? also if fone is not upfront about dating, i'll never think he wants to, and then we never will)

zachary: don't look (i like him a lot but i would handle being kidnapped so poorly he'd just kill me out of annoyance 💀)

adam: you and him (i will sooner throttle him. i can hold a grudge and this man STABBED me. we might hate kiss ONCE but that is it.)

keith or tenebris: duality (they both seem cool, but i am extremely against finding someone broken into my home, so i AM calling the cops and never seeing them again sorry 🥲)

casanova: cannibal sweetheart (i have not played this game but i am afraid of being eaten! if that is a possibility in this game then i'm sorry we can be friends instead!)

elias: groom of gallagher mansion (i'm not a ghost fucker. don't look at jack in 4th place thats different)

dachabo: dachabo (i'm also not a furry so absolutely not)

john doe: john doe (NEVER. HE DOES NOT BATHE AND WANTS TO KILL ME.)

moral of this list; never let me find out about your intent to kidnap me/murder/stalking/gaslighting, and we will be a very happy and healthy couple 😘

#also none of these characters would ever realistically be into me so technically i'd be safe if they were real <3 #i'd just simp for ren/redacted from afar and hope he doesn't have his sledgehammer at the ready #i know there are very cool yans that don't have games yet #but as i know very little about them #they're not on this list. #14dwy #14 days with you #restart heart #see thru need a friend #see thru: need a friend #something's wrong with sunny day jack #my dear hatchet man #glass mind #glass mind vn #honey hotline #honey hotline vn #don't look vn #don't look #you and him #you and him vn #duality #duality vn #cannibal sweetheart #the groom of gallagher mansion #dachabo #john doe #my post

[imma-devil]

smile for the camera | s.h

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI

Tags: sub!Steve Harrington, switch!Steve Harrington, Steve's first time subbing, reader's kinda mean and its hawt, sextape (solo masturbation), masturbation (m!receiving), fist fucking, leg riding, slight voyeurism kink!, both praise and slight degradation kink, use of nicknames (e.g., pretty boy), banter, some dirty talk, barely proofread.

Word Count: 1,643

Summary: Steve "The Hair" Harrington is put to the test. Will he hold onto the mantle of "King Steve" when his girlfriend has him at her mercy from behind a camera?

A/N: Prompt two of Lazy Ghouls Kinktober, the prompt I chose was camera. It's a bit on the shorter side than what I usually post, but it's because I wanted to commit to posting but couldn't handle a longer post.

You can not take my work or translate it without my permission. This piece of fiction is mine, and only the character belongs to its original creators.

“Do I really have to do this?” Steve asks, a poorly plastered facade of annoyance to his tone. 

Steve and you recently had a talk about how your sex life had largely been about what Steve was into, while your desires were slowly being forgotten. It wasn’t intentional… and its not like you disliked your sex. No, you loved it. But, you wanted Steve to go along with something you’ve requested. Which, brings you to the infamous Steve Harrington, seated on his knees before you. All while you stand over him, wielding a very large video camera. 

“Quit complaining Steve, I said you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to.” you shoot back with little hesitance. “The only reason you’re here right now is ‘cause you’re into it— don’t deny it.” 

“I like to think I have enough dignity to not stoop to this level just to cum,” He retorts, readjusting the crotch of his sweatpants. 

“Really?--” you ask, laced with sarcasm. “I like you at this level.”

“I’m sure you do~” he grins, making a show of advancing towards you, his hands reaching for your hips. 

With a stiff palm, you stop him where he is. “Nope!” You impersonate the sound of a car coming to a screeching halt for good measure, which he laughs at. “No touching— this is all you baby.”

He stares up into the lens, all doe-eyed and stunned.

“Now, put on a good show for the camera~” you mockingly grin. 

“Well… what am I supposed to do?” he looks off to the side in question, despite the empty room. 

You cock your head to the side to accent your reply, finding humor in his newfound innocence. “I assume you remember how to touch yourself? right? Don’t play coy.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Steve chides, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in an effort to fend off a smile. 

“Would you love me even more if I told you that I’d record a little tape for you in return?” you ask, a smile adorning your lips that could only mean you were up to no good. “I’d give it to you on a random day… as a surprise… but only if you make this one yourself.” 

He clearly resembled someone who was interested, but he groaned in defiance once he heard the devious ultimatum. He scoots to a slightly more comfortable position on his knees, widening his stance atop the carpet so that he can rest his weight more on his thighs. You can almost imagine him straddling atop your lap instead, with enough room to slot yourself between his legs. 

“You can still change your mind,” you provide. “I’d never force you into something you don’t want.”

“It’s too late for that—” He quirks his eyebrow and looks at you with a teasing question. “You’ve already got me where you want me, might as well get on with it.” 

“Ahh, I see… for dignity’s sake?” you goad. 

“Yup, for dignity’s sake,” he replies, before trailing his hand to rest right where his pelvis meets his hip. You know he’s just doing it for show, but truthfully, Steve was a bit sensitive there. You could remember from past experience that doting kisses or an indulgent touch in just that spot would leave his hips stuttering in their pace. 

“Hmm, whenever you’re ready” you voice, your eyes now settling on him from the lens of the camera; watching your ‘pretty boy’ of a boyfriend from a whole new perspective of video grain and amorous lighting. 

Steve notices the switch in dynamic, and he too fixates his gaze on the intimidating lens. There’s something he finds different about his girlfriend… this feels voyeuristic as if he considers an audience beyond just the woman he loves. He expected to feel shame while under the intense observation of a camera, a video that would undoubtedly record every detail of his body under pleasure, making it everlasting for them to see. Instead, it feels thrilling. He speculates that the mere idea of him being watched under your greedy eyes is what’s coaxing him further. It’s the motivation for why his hands scan his body without fear, and why he performs for the camera with his eyes cooked onto the lens. 

Steve sneaks one arm below his t-shirt, his hand traversing the expanse of his stomach. He makes sure to gently rake his nails over his skin, but it does nothing to mimic your touch. Steve hooks his other hand over his groin, adding the slightest pressure while he rocks himself achingly slow over his touch. 

A hum then coasts amongst your exhales and he smirks in achievement. Steve awards himself by furthering his weight on his indulgent hand, palming himself for added friction. The thick cloth of his sweatpants barely dullens the pressure, and he feels himself grow harder at the attention. 

“Fuck, that’s good” he relents, his voice crackling with the sheer quietness in which he spoke. 

“Louder, for the camera—” you advise. “I wanna hear how it feels Steve, tell me how it feels…”

“S’not as good as when you touch me~” he admits. “But, it's warm. I want more though…”

“Touch yourself directly,” you offer like it's obvious. “Show the camera how pretty you are.” 

Steve smiles at the compliment, lifting his shirt to hold the fabric between his teeth. You admire the freckles that adorn his fair skin, scattered like small constellations. Brown hair marks a trail up the valley of his lean stomach to collect in a faint patch of hair on his chest. The skin that resides there is pink with growing warmth. To keep his idle hand busy he lightly teases at his nipple with the edge of his index finger, cupping the rest of his pec in his hand.  

You watch as Steve releases his cock from the confines of his sweats, his pink head peeking from his waistband. You hum approvingly as to satiate his need for appraisal and he nudges his pants to rest lower on his waist. You can’t help but fixate on the beauty mark that resides on his v, the one which marks that sensitive spot you fantasized about earlier. 

Steve places his palm to his drooling head, lulling his head back once on his neck as soon as his touch met its surface. The low hum of a moan gruels through his lips, muffled by the shirt clenched between his teeth. Just as a tantalizing motion sets around his eager cock, Steve’s moans begin to coast along the air in his quiet bedroom. Steve doesn’t even notice as his hips take on a mind of their own, his thrusts mindlessly following his hand in tow. 

“Just like that~” you guide him in his pace. “Keep fuckin’ yourself into your fist,”

His breath hitches at your words; his speed ticking up a notch to eagerly appease you. He becomes aware of the camera once more and in doing so, realizes his desire to perform. 

“Go ahead, Steve~” you coax, “Make yourself feel good— make yourself cum~”

He rushingly nods in reply; his brows tying up into a knot as he begins to unabashedly snap his hips into his hand. He really wants to— Steve wants to cum… but, he just can’t. He needs you! It just isn’t enough, his hand isn’t enough. He’s virtually chasing his end now, but you can see the seed of frustration starting to grow behind his irises. 

You reposition the camera atop your shoulder; pushing one leg further to stand just close enough, between his knees. Steve stares up at you—not the camera—you, the essence of something desperate within his gaze. 

“Go ahead,” you relent out of both greed and guilt. “Use me~ I know you need to”

Steve audibly groans, your words going straight to his dick. Maybe he would’ve considered feeling embarrassed, but not now, when his mind is flooded with thoughts of being able to cum. He could curse himself later when the high goes down. But, for now, he pulls himself in close to you. 

“Work yourself over the edge,” you egged on.

His unoccupied hand moves to wrap around your leg in an embrace mimicking that of greek statues, kneeling in adoration. His other hand continues to pump his dick, his hips stuttering each time his fist works over his head. Now that the distance between you is closed, he pushes his need into your leg. With each motioned thrust, he drags himself against the plush of your smooth skin. He haggers a moan with each pull, reeling at the sensation. The added pressure of your leg is enough to supply Steve his much-needed release.

Out of instinct, your fingers magnetize to his hair; dotingly combing through his waves to clear them of his face. “My pretty boy,” you coo with a lust-filled voice.

“I knew you were a slut,”

A seething curse forces its way between his clenched teeth as he releases his hot spend in bursts against your skin. His arousal seen soaking through the cotton of his sweats. Steve’s voice drags on throughout his orgasm, as if he uses all of his breath from within his lungs. The shirt falls from between his teeth, wonton pants drifting from his lips in exertion. The aftershocks of his orgasm fizzle to a close as he drops his cheek to your thigh. 

It takes a moment before Steve feels he can catch his breath and he turns to look up at your camera; his chin resting upon your knee like a loyal pup.

With a fucked out voice he voices with bliss, “...when you film mine— I want you to fuck yourself over my thigh.”

After a laugh that could surely be heard through the camera, you assure him “that can be arranged.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #stranger things #x reader #fanfiction #sub character #dom reader #bd/sm switch

[the-knucklesverse]

Dark Deception

So a lot of what we do in the server is toss out any ol' idea that pops into our head and spitball the ramifications of it.

Dark is what's left of Dark Enerjak from the alternate Archie timeline, and he's always trying to reclaim that power, always trying to trick the other Knuckleses into drawing on the power of the Master Emerald so he can then have it for himself. (We're not sure how, those are details we don't bother with when we're knee deep in angst heaven.😆)

This bit was written a while before the other one I posted (Deep Thoughts) and introduced the idea of Boom being upset that he was so stupid on his world. I think he has some really deep resentment that he's viewed so poorly in his world, and he may fall for Dark if he's told he could be so much more respected if he shows his true power.

Dark gets to Boom after a particularly bad day where everyone makes fun of him or shows annoyance at him because of his 'stupidity'. He goes to the Sanctuary to cheer up, or at least take his mind off it, and Dark's the only one there, and the old crank sidles up to him, and is all "What's wrong, boy?" and Boom tells him because Boom doesn't think much of it, and Dark starts poking.

~~~~~

"Why do you think they see you like that?"

Boom shrugs. "Because in my world I am kinda dumb. Wachowski said it's probably because there's no Master Emerald, and something something chaos energy. I dunno. I didn't really understand it."

"But you think more clearly here, yes?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't really last when I get back home. Again, no Master Emerald there."

A smile curled Dark's lips. "But you have access to that energy. That power. You could pull from it and use it whenever you wish. Even in your world."

Boom quieted as he thought. He wasn't supposed to. It was pretty common knowledge among Knux's that they were only meant to be guardians, and not actually use that power.

"But the others always say that power's not meant for us," he said, brow furrowed. "We're just guarding it."

"But why not? I never understood that line of thinking. We are meant to simply stand nearby and look at it? We are the only creatures capable of harnessing and controlling chaos energy on that level. Why shouldn't we use it? If it's not meant for us, who is it meant for?"

Boom furrowed his brow. "I dunno . . ."

"Look at it this way," Dark said, inching closer. His voice had taken on a more eager tone. "Chaos energy is like a river. Flowing and moving freely around everything. If you could control that river, use it to make yourself healthy, or stronger, or . . . smarter, who would it hurt?"

Boom chewed his lip as he thought. He wasn't supposed to listen to Dark. None of them were. Because he was some evil Knux, from a different dimension—a different timeline? It was confusing—who'd done a lot of bad things with the power he'd had.

But . . . he kinda made some sense. So what if Boom used some of that power, if only to make himself think more clearly in his own world. That wasn't bad, right? It wouldn't hurt anyone, right? And he was a Knuckles--they were all good deep down, so even if he did use some of that power, he wouldn't do anything bad with it, so maybe it was okay?

He shook his head. This was confusing.

~~~~~

Dark eventually convinces him that tapping into the ME's power isn't so bad, and Boom's starts doing so. Just little bits here and there, mostly to make himself not so damn dumb on his world, but he doesn't know how to control that flow into himself. More importantly, doesn't know how to turn it off.

So it's flowing and becoming more and more powerful the longer he's linked to it, but it's too much, it's so much more than he's capable of handling.

His emotions are starting to cause problems back on his world - storms, earth tremors, killing vegetation near him, etc. No one has any idea what's going on, and he starts to panic, which is causing even more destruction.

He runs to the Sanctuary, but being in essentially ground zero of ME power makes things so much worse.

The Knux's who are there immediately feel the drain, and are shocked to see Boom of all people being the cause. Boom has no idea how to handle chaos energy in the first place, and being in a panicked state is making him unintentionally draw more.

The others are trying so hard to counter it, to balance it, but it's not working.

~~~~~

Boom fell to his knees, overcome with the sheer power flowing through him. Every nerve felt on fire. His muscles tense and thrumming with energy. He opened his mouth, trying to call to his friends, ask them to help him, but the only sound that came out was a strained scream.

The others stood back in shock. And maybe a little fear. They could feel the chaos running through him. There was so much. If they couldn't get it out of him, if he couldn't control it, it would tear him apart before their eyes.

Modern and X exchanged glances. Wachowski barely held himself back from rushing forward to help. Dread growled, his feet seeming glued to the floor as he watched his best friend struggle.

"We have t' do something!" he cried, looking from one set of fearful violet eyes to another. "Ye all know much more 'bout this Master Emerald. What c'n we do??"

"We . . . we don't know," Modern said, his eyes glued to Boom as the tall echidna struggled. "I've never seen anything like this before. No one's ever had this amount of power and lived."

"I have," a voice called from the shadows, and Dark moved into the light. A small smile curled his lips. "Oh, you poor foolish children. I have held just as much power before."

He turned to them, to Dread, that smile turning to a smirk. "I can help him."

The pirate's knee jerk reaction, honestly, was to launch himself forward and slice Dark's throat. The older version of themselves was never anyone's favorite, but now, when Boom's life hung in the balance, this wrinkled echidna's words seemed especially mocking.

"And I'm sure ye would do this outta the goodness of yer shriveled black heart," Dread snarled, showing fang. "And I'm also sure ye had nothing t' do with Boom even usin' that energy in the first place."

Dark moved closer, that smirk never fading. "We can stand here all day and point fingers, cast blame, but do you really think he has that kind of time?"

Dread looked back to his friend. Boom was on his hands and knees, waves of what he assumed was chaos energy flowing over him. The air around his body seemed to shimmer, and the Sanctuary around him . . . twisted. It was changing, as though melting and shifting into something different.

No time. Dark was right about one thing—there was absolutely no time to argue about this. Dread turned back to him, his snarl more pronounced.

"What can ye do?"

Dark uttered a soft laugh. "I can take the energy from him."

Of course he could. That's what he'd wanted all along. Using Boom's insecurities and fears to make him do something he ordinarily wouldn't. To tap into that power that Dark so desperately wanted, a power Boom had no hope to control himself.

Dark knew this would happen.

Dread's hand itched to take hold of his blade. He should have ended that shriveled pile of nastiness a long time ago.

Boom screamed again, and everyone in the Sanctuary covered their ears. It did little good. The sound came from inside their heads.

Dread uttered a loud growl, turning back to Dark.

There was no other choice.

"Help him, ye damned demon."

The smile on Dark's face widened, and Dread almost took a step back. He'd never seen the older echidna actually smile. Not like that.

"Gladly," he said, and moved with a speed Dread would not have expected. Dark stopped before Boom, going to one knee before the downed echidna. He didn't seem affected by the energy coming off Boom at all.

"You did well, son," Dark said, his voice low and dark. "You did just want I wanted."

Boom managed to lift his head, looking up at Dark. Tears ran down his muzzle, and his body trembled. "Wh-what?"

"Give me your hand." Dark held his own out. "I will take it from here."

Despite his current state, Boom hesitated. Questions, concern, fears, and doubts flittered through his mind.

This was wrong. He shouldn't. Dark was bad.

But the agony he currently experienced couldn't be ignored. The terror.

Lifting a trembling arm, Boom took Dark's offered hand.

The response was immediate. All that energy coursing through Boom, instilling every cell, every nerve, every fiber of his being with this unimaginable power, flowed into Dark.

No. That was the wrong word. It didn't flow as much as it was pulled into the older echidna. Every last ounce of the power Boom had tapped into was sucked away, along with whatever small amount he'd had to begin with. Boom uttered a strangled cry as Dark drained him, and fell to the floor, weak as a kitten when the older echidna finally released his hand.

Dark stood tall, his frail, weak body infused with that familiar power once more. He turned, offering the rest of the echidna present a wide, malevolent smile.

"Now," he said, his voice stronger than they'd ever heard it. "Oh, now the fun will truly begin."

~~ Qwerty

#knucklesverse #knuckles the dread #knuckles the echidna #qwerty writing #knucklesverse writing #boom knuckles #sonic boom #sonic prime #dark enerjak #dark knuckles

[lxmiko]

shu yamino (highschool au) character sheet . . .

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

i’m so unapologetically a simp for shu, i’m sorry, but I Stan Shu Yamino.

art drawn by me btw if someone asks where credits are ^^ !!

character(s): shu yamino

— *✧･ﾟ: * —

— *✧･ﾟ: * —

headcanons

his best subject is math (even if he doesn’t try much in school to begin with ••;;)

takes the bus home!! but as of late, he’s been tutoring you in math afterschool ^^ (yaminerd?!)

you can find him in one of the empty classes after school, probably napping if not playing rhythm games on his phone ^^

he’s awfully quiet during class and just in general, but mention an anime he’s watched within the past week and he’ll babble all about it

shu walks you to class when he can, and especially if your schedules match up with one another. if you’re lucky, or if he’s feeling up for it, he might link his pinky with yours as the two of you make your way to class .///.

— *✧･ﾟ: * —

drabble

“i hate math.”

shu laughs quietly at your complaint you groan with your face smushed into your open math book, though he doesn’t say anything to disagree.

your notes and incomplete worksheets are scattered across the table along with the neat but thick stack of shu’s right across from them, and you start to question whether or not math is really worth all this trouble.

“be honest with me,” you look up from the mess that is your homework with a frown, “do you really think we need anything past multiplication and division?”

he raises a brow at your comment and speaks as if it’s obvious. “what do you think, huh? you know i wouldn’t be at school right now if i wasn’t studying with you.”

at his words, your face twists into an exasperated expression, and he giggles at the way you grab at your forgotten pencil with annoyance, filling the empty classroom with grumbles and the scritch-scratch of your writing.

he peers over at your worksheets every few minutes, pointing out little mistakes and carefully explaining anything you can’t understand. shu’s a good teacher, (though he never gives himself enough credit) and as you watch him underline the concepts in the book with his finger as he reads them to you, his other hand periodically pushing up the black frames of his glasses, you smile.

“do you get it?” shu asks you after he’s finished babbling about something that had to do with graphing. he looks up to you for confirmation, but is caught off guard by your gaze awaiting him instead.

you look at him so sweetly, perhaps with admiration or awe, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he can’t handle this eye contact any longer.

his eyes dart to the side, his hand lifting to nudge his glasses further up his nose out of habit. “why are you looking at me like… that?”

you grin, your head tilting to lean further into your hand. “i don’t know, i guess i just think you’re pretty.”

it stuns you how fast shu can turn from being so composed to flustered and stuttering like he is now, his pen slipping through his fingers and off the desk before he immediately dives for it (he hopes the time he spends picking it up is enough for the heat radiating across his face to go away).

when he returns, he avoids your eyes and returns to twirl and fidget with his pen, mumbling a “thanks.” (though his cheeks had turned back to their normal hue, the tips of his ears, hidden poorly by his pink highlighted sides of his hair, are still red).

(you decide not to mention how pretty he looks then, too).

tutoring moves on after that, dragging under the sun begins to dip lower and lower into the sky, hues of blue disappearing and replaced with pinks, oranges, and yellows.

shu’s voice is soothing: soft, and slightly raspy. every word feels like a lullaby, and your eyelids droop with every murmur. and you should’ve mentioned it to him before, but you hadn’t been paying attention to the past half hour of his lecture.

sleep catches up to you, pulling you into its welcoming grasp and leaving you with your head resting on top of your homework and your pencil held loosely between your fingers.

shu doesn’t notice at first, continuing on with his gibberish of numbers and letters (in math, can you believe?) until a little tug on his sleeve startles him. it’s one of his shikigami, animatedly gesturing toward another floating near your head, looking suspiciously like it might pull on your hair to wake you.

he muffles a laugh and holds onto the slim arm of the shikigami, pulling it away from you with a playful tsk, tsk, tsk. “let them sleep,” it slips from his grasp with a little struggle despite his halfhearted protest and floats over to you anyway, resting itself upon your head with somewhat of a triumphant air.

shu smiles at every rise and fall of your shoulders as soft, even breaths leave you. he leans down, his head on top of his hands on the table, and levels himself with you.

“cute,” he murmurs unknowingly under his breath, tilting his head to the side to admire the contours of your face, committing them to memory in the moment of tranquility.

it’s late, and the two of you should go home, but he can’t bring himself to wake you from your nap and ruin the peace of the afternoon sun flitting through the half drawn curtains of the classroom onto the soft expression of your sleeping self.

and so he whispers softly. “rest well, baby.” his hand pats the top of your head, lightly, with love laced in his voice. “i’ll bother you more later.”

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

sorry this took forever D: my math teacher is being mean and giving tests and so much hw frfr, but OTHER THAN THAT, 200-300 FOLLOWER EVENT POSTS COMING EVENTUALLY SOON SO LOOK FORWARD TO THAT WOOOOO

#luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji en #nijien #nijisanji #shu yamino #shu yamino x reader

[rosewould]

siren iii

genre; humor, angst kinda glancing around the corner, suggestive

warnings; poorly edited, suggestive content, wine consumption, a lot of tension and corniness :)

preface; however I portray the idols in this work does NOT indicate my true feelings about them, and you hating them as characters here doesn't mean you hate the actual idol... because there will be characters you HATE

siren masterlist

“23 and you already have your own restaurant?” Roseanne nods, moderately impressed. Both of the men who came after Mingyu will have a very hard time wowing the room. While everyone is either focused on Mingyu or their chosen match, you find yourself entranced by the way Jaemin speaks. He’s bright, but not with an angelic glow. His smile is wide and his speaking boisterous. He’s the only guy who’s managed to steer the attention to himself so far whenever he makes a genuinely funny joke. Everyone has been awkward so far, noting the weather or making dad jokes. Whatever’s safe. Jaemin, however, seems to be completely uninhibited by fear of being disliked. He’s being himself right off the bat.

“For now. We’ll see how I’m handling those bills in a few years.” Jaemin tugs at his collar theatrically and you roll your eyes.

“You’re trying so hard not to brag.” You laugh prematurely when his eyes snap to you, knowing what’s coming next.

“Here you go again trying to force me to have bad character values.”

“I just want you to be honest.” You shrug.

“He’s clearly just a humble everyman.” Mingyu nudges you over the gap between the couches, forcing you to realize how active you’ve been in the conversation since Jaemin entered the house. You and Mingyu laugh as Jaemin vehemently agrees. You glance from Mingyu to the girls and get ensnared by Chaeyeon. She continues to stare even after you notice. You get chills, this being the first time she’s done anything other than staring at the floor or looking up at someone briefly.

“Let’s play a game.” Yizhuo bounces in her seat, moving forward to see everyone. “To get a good feel of your personalities.”

Everyone turns in toward Yizhuo, suddenly intrigued. “If you all were women, which of the guys would you date?” She says to the men in the room, making everyone hoot and holler. 

“I’d date Taehyun because he’s all mysterious.” Jaemin pipes up before anyone else had the chance to answer.

“Of course you answer first.” You fall back into bickering with Jaemin so seamlessly. He leans over and shrugs as if he needed to demonstrate any further how shameless he was.

“I’d pick Jake.” Mingyu states, ending his sentence abruptly with no emotion to hint at his motives. 

“Why?” Somi asks in utter confusion. You snort at the hint of distaste she lets fall through. You immediately clear your throat, Jaemin has made you too loose.

“Because he’s sweet, good boyfriend material I think.”

“Well I’d pick you.” Jake replies. “For obvious reasons.”

“I would too.” Yunho chuckles. “You’re very flashy.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, noting the frown that flickers onto Yunho’s face for a split second. Also the way Jake watched Roseanne intently after giving his answer.

“And you, Taehyun?” Roseanne peeks her head out, most likely realizing that she had forgotten he was there. With how quiet he was and how subdued his reactions are, it’s hard not to. Taehyun lifts his chin slightly, the first of the men to put genuine thought into his choice. He nods before uttering “Me”.

The room erupts in annoyance and boos. You cut your eyes at him. You never really had a reason to have negative feelings toward him, but they were hidden there. What he just did just dug those feelings up to the surface. You don’t notice you’re scowling at him until his eyes meet yours. You quickly look away. 

“Okay so two for Mingyu, two for Taehyun, and one for Jake.” Roseanne claps her hands together. “Interesting indeed.”

The tone is heard overhead again and everyone quiets up. 

“Singles! It’s time for your first group activity.”

Excitement is contagious as it flows around the room. Everyone either looks at someone of the same gender or inadvertently at that special someone. You look at Yizhuo who always has the cutest look of mischief and chuckle.

“A live feed of all of you has been put on our website for the public to see prior to official airings.”

A spark ignites the room, singing away all the excitement and leaving shock. This time panicked looks are sent to anyone whose eyes yours connect with. Rushed introspection is interrupted as the tv cuts on to play from the moment Jake was let into the house.

“The nature of this show encourages women to make the first move. For the first pairings, women will pick the activity they want and the man they wish to accompany them. However, according to audience input, the women will receive a prize or penalty depending on how much positive or negative comments they got. Welcome to Flipped Fling.”

Shock unwittingly mixes with amazement after the announcement finishes. You rub the chill bumps that form on your forearms away. The voice sounds again.

“Since she got the most positive feedback, ___,”

You stiffen as you hear gasps and feel eyes on you.

“You get first pick for the man you wish to accompany you. Please stand on the platform in front of the television.”

The edges of the platform illuminate as everyone reacts in intrigue. 

“You go girl!” Roseanne cheers you on as you stand up, Yizhuo and a couple of the guys join in. As you stand before everyone, you find it a little difficult to make a decision with all eyes on you like this. You drop filler onomatopoeia left and right as you look between all the men.

“You’re in the position to get whatever you want at the moment.” Chaeyeon speaks, her voice seeming to echo more than it should. It’s fuller than it usually is too as she stares into you. You need to get off this damn platform. You say the name of someone who will put you at ease and not start drama with a love triangle.

“I choose Na Jaemin.”

The light on the platform switches to green as a positive tone sounds. 

“You can now return to your seat.”

You hurriedly scurry back to the couch, heart racing as if you were just at gunpoint.

“There will be five tasks each couple will complete. Preparing dinner, designing a dress code, choosing the night’s playlist, decorating the dining area, and picking the nights wine at a one on one wine tasting.”

The television switches to a breathtaking vineyard with a very romantic seating area. The perfect scenery for a date. You would choose that one if you were already romantic with someone, right now it’d just be awkward.

“The first couple formed tonight will be going to the Kurnet vineyard as the first official date of the season.”

Disappointment fills the room as the illusion of choice is ripped away, everyone having to dump out their daydream of a moonlit wine date. You look over at Jaemin, the only person excited at the moment. The screen changes again, this time a wheel with the other four women’s names.

“This wheel will decide the order the rest of the women will go in. Except…”

You gasp as Somi is removed from the wheel.

“Receiving the most negative input, Somi will be going last.”

Somi scoffs, starting to defend herself only to give up and cross her arms as she realizes the choice has already been made.

“First to choose��”

The wheel spins, blurring every name before slowing between Chaeyeon and Yizhuo. It crawls until barely passing the line separating them, landing on Yizhuo. 

“Please stand at the platform to choose your man and activity.”

She giddily makes her way to the platform, immediately picking Jake and not caring how it makes her look. You can’t help but be charmed by how unabashedly excited she is. She chooses the playlist activity, which you would’ve picked if you had a choice. Listening to music means very little speaking with very little dead air. 

Next is Roseanne who chooses Yunho. Judging by how much more pissed Somi is after that choice, Yunho must have been her backup. 

Chaeyeon calmly makes her way to the platform, taking her sweet time throughout the entire process as if you all don’t know who she’s going to pick.

“I choose…. Um…. Mingyu.” She says with a look that suggests she’s still unsure. Regardless, she picks preparing dinner, which leaves Somi to decorate with Taehyun. The pairs are sent to their designated areas. You watch, noticing how only one pairing seems completely content, and it’s the one with the two most beautiful people there. Roseanne and Yizhuo are very pleased with their partner while they look elsewhere. 

You and Jaemin say goodbye to everyone else once it’s announced your ride is here. He locks his arm in yours, seemingly excited to get drunk off expensive wine.

-🖊️⇝

Fairy lights hang above you as you both follow the cobbled path toward your table. You’re happy you wore long sleeves or the pit of your elbow would be sweaty by now. The lights reflect like stars in Jaemin’s large eyes as he admires the vineyard. You giggle at him but it doesn’t distract him. As you’re seated, there’s a cart brought out with five bottles of wine.

You watch as the waiter(?) presents the first bottle before pouring a small amount into your glass. Before Jaemin gets his, he stops the waiter to get a better look at the bottle.

“A white wine first?” He asks, still examining the text as he gets his answer. As his glass is filled, he and the waiter chat about the color, how dark it is. Jaemin takes his glass by the stem and tilts it, staring intently. Not being able to garner what he’s amazed by, you copy him. As the liquid climbs up the glass, you notice how it almost completely obscures the grapes printed on your cloth napkins. You gasp, intrigued despite not exactly knowing what it means.

“You see that?” Jaemin’s eyes light up once he sees what you’re doing. You nod, looking back at the wine. 

“It’s definitely full bodied.” 

He lifts the glass upright, swirling it with his eyebrows knitted. You watch him in amusement while stifling your laughter. 

“That looks fun.”

“Of course, you’re not a connoisseur.” He pronounces the word with a botched italian accent which is the wrong language anyway. 

“Oh what, doing this,” You swirl your wine mockingly, “makes me a connoisseur?” You say with the correct french accent. Jaemin’s eyes widen, impressed.

“You sound so Italian.”

You’re no longer able to contain your laughter, setting your glass down and turning your head away and letting out a loud “Pfft-”

Jaemin sputters. “We’re going to be here all day. We have four more wines to get through.”

“You’re right.” You clear your throat, taking a sip from your glass. Your eyes blow wider. “Mmm!”

Jaemin is still sniffing at the damn wine. He finally takes a sip and shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“Seriously?” You go in for another sip. 

“I mean, it’s worth the insane price but it’s not really speaking to me.”

“Not even when you were snorting it just now?”

“Can we get the next wine please?” Jaemin makes sure not to laugh along with you in case he encourages you.

The next three wines you try to copy his goofy routine, nearly spilling the wine several times. 

“This is the final wine, Love Dolce.” The waiter says as he fills new glasses for the both of you.

A drawn “ooo” is pulled from the both of you.

“Based on the name alone?” Jaemin shoots you a look that you return, signaling that you’re on the same page. You’ve become accustomed to tilting the glass by now. This time, the dark color of the wine helps it completely obstructs anything below the gasp. Seeing your surprise, Jaemin does the same. “Wow.”

“It’s a pretty color.” You remark. 

“Looks like… garnet?” Jaemin tilts his head. 

“Pretty color name.”

He moves onto the swirling step, which he does so skillfully and fast. You huff, trying to match his expertise but you can’t. 

“Here, try this.” Jaemin says, amused. You feel your face get hot as you look up at him. How long was he watching you sulk and struggle? He sets his glass down and signals for you to do the same. He places his index and middle fingers on the foot of the glass, swirling it that way. You follow suit, finding it to still feel a little clunky. He reaches over and places his two fingers on top of yours. You go to pull away but he soothes you.

“It’s okay. Lemme show you.” He keeps his eyes trained on his fingers. Good thing he did, or else he’d see the dumb look on your face. He helps you bring up a steady, slow pace before eventually speeding up. A smile spreads wide across your face as the wine perfectly swirls around the glass.

“What does this do?” You feel compelled to ask, but you honestly just like watching it spin. 

“I have no clue.”

The two of you burst into laughter for the five millionth time that evening.

-🖊️⇝

When the two of you make it back to the house, there’s Frank Ocean playing on the speakers, a wonderful smell coming from the kitchen, and very messy decorations strewn about. Yizhuo welcomes you back and takes a look at the wine. 

“Ouu, fancy name.” Yizhuo relieves the wine from us and sets it on the kitchen counter. Jake is looking around from the couch, perking up all of a sudden. You initially think it’s because alcohol is here, but then you see two people coming down the stairs.

“The dress code is ready!” Roseanne sings, both her and Yunho in a very good mood.

“Food’s almost ready!” Chaeyeon matches Roseanne’s tone from the kitchen.

Roseanne takes to the platform with pieces of paper in her hands. “The theme we decided to go with are gem tones, and everyone has been assigned their own.”

She announces each tone as she hands them to the couples. Somi and Taehyun get midnight blue, Yizhuo and Jake get emerald green.

“We gave ourselves a sort of cool purple tone, and for you guys,” she approaches the two of you with a paper with the word “wine” written on it. “Wine, obviously. Last but not least, marigold for the golden couple.” Mingyu blushes as she approaches with their slip of paper. He looks down at Chaeyeon with pure glee, Chaeyeon looking back up with an unreadable grin. 

Once dinner is ready, the couples are sent upstairs to change. You take your only two options to a bathroom down the hall from your room.

“You pick anything out yet?” Jaemin stops you on your way, looking down at the clothes in your hand. “Lemme see.” You present him option A: a wool cardigan and beige skirt. The cardigan matches the “wine” theme better but is so itchy. But option B: a medium length satin dress with two seams that run diagonal, making an X through the dress. Where they intersect, a slit that is modest enough to not draw attention runs down. It’s more comfy, but it’s not quite “wine”.

“I pick B.”

“It doesn’t match our theme though, does it?”

“No, but look.” Jaemin moves his pick into view. It’s less deep of a red and warmer, just like the dress. You chew at your lip, still conflicted.

“They’re both garnet.” He raises his eyebrows at you. You inhale sharply, eyes flitting from your dress to his dress shirt. Your stomach starts doing cartwheels and you can feel your body heat up. It’s only day one and you have an inside joke with someone of the opposite sex. You don’t know the last time you clicked with a guy like this, it just always felt like they were putting up with you.

“Okay. B it is.” You hoist the dress up to drive home your choice and open the bathroom door. Jaemin places a hand on your shoulder and you stop. When you turn to look at him, his eyes are dark and he has an impish grin on his face.

“Should we get dressed together?” He quirks one of his eyebrows. Your heart thumps so fast it feels like it’s one continuous motion. You shove at his shoulders. 

“T-the cameras!” The camera men who usually follow you around are off filming another couple, but you spot one mounted on the wall, pointing directly at the two of you.

“It’s okay. I actually read the contract. Since they marketed this show as a sexless dating show, they agreed to dispose of any footage related to sex. Even if we say the word “sex” they have to get rid of it.” His tone seems lighter now, he was clearly only saying that to rile you up and you played right into his hand. Your heart calms a bit, but there’s still a glint in his eye. Like he’s checking to see if you’d actually be down. His eyes flicker down to your lips.

The door to the women’s bedroom opening makes you jump. You shove at him again, muttering at him to go get dressed.

When you and Jaemin are both downstairs again, wearing your not-wine-colored outfits, you’re directed to seats chosen for you. You’re put in the middle of the girls’ side.

“For being the top girl.” Chaeyeon pushes in your chair slightly. You look up at Jaemin who’s directly across from you. His eyes are following Chaeyeon as she goes to sit down. You look between them until she’s finally seated, only then do you release the breath you’ve been holding.

“The first course is a cranberry walnut salad.” Mingyu announces as he sets one bowl down at the right side of the table. 

“Course?” Roseanne asks as he sets the other at the opposite end. 

“We were told to come up with a menu, so.” Mingyu shrugs, his ego prematurely inflated.

The air is a bit tense as you eat. It’s the first time you’ve all been together since you first came. New information has been learned since then. People are taking hints, feeling bitter they didn’t get to be with who they truly wanted to be with, and feeling determined to convince their target. Seems like the latter is the strongest emotion.

“Roseanne, I love the color you picked out.” Jake’s practically wagging his tail.

“Yeah, I think it looks really good on him.” Yizhuo’s comment is a bit more shy. Regardless, the air is back to being tense after two compliments with two very different purposes. 

Somi clears her throat. “You’re so good at cooking, Mingyu! Oh my god.”

“Thanks. I mean a salad is kinda just throwing things together, wait until the next course.” If this were a normal circumstance where people would prioritize making a conversation function, Mingyu’s wink would have been directed at Somi. You know, the person he’s speaking to. But he winks at Chaeyeon and Somi unknowingly scowls. You hide your face in your hands, the tension officially too much to bear. 

“Wine anyone?” Taehyun offers, raising the bottle in the air. Many people pipe up to have it passed to them. Being drunk only makes you more anxious only to throw up, so you pass on any more. Taehyun speaking brings your attention back to him. He is the only one without a clear target so far. He’s not watching anyone, just sipping his wine and eating his salad. Even during the next course– steak and garlic mashed potatoes– he seems to be just enjoying his food.

“Chaeyeon, how did you go about preparing this?” Yunho pipes up. 

“Mingyu did the cooking. I tried cooking some of the steak because I thought it’d be fun. I’m sorry if it tastes funny.” Chaeyeon’s head doesn’t get the chance to droop as the room ignites to cheer her up. Namely Mingyu, Yunho, and… Jaemin. His is understated, but still noticeable.

“Look, even the chef doesn’t think so.” Mingyu plants a hand on Chaeyeon’s back, a move that neither Somi nor Yunho miss.

“Okay.” Chaeyeon nods, smiling shyly. 

Chaeyeon. Chaeyeon. Roseanne. Jake. Chaeyeon. Chaeyeon. 

Their names are called again and again by the same people. The only reason we’re not hearing “Mingyu” is because Somi is sulking; and we’re not hearing “Yunho” because Roseanne isn’t wearing her heart on her sleeve. That leaves you, Chaeyeon, Jaemin, and Taehyun. 

Chaeyeon doesn’t even get a chance to spark a conversation with the two men bombarding her. Jaemin… well he hasn’t really spoken much. Not to you or anyone. And Taehyun–

You get startled by Taehyun’s gaze being settled on you again. This time, controlled by your curiosity, you hold his gaze. He seems to be examining you as much as you’re examining him. You learn no new information about Mr. Personal Trainer Kang Taehyun.

It’s time for Desert and Chaeyeon announces she’s full. Yizhuo, even quieter this time, agrees. 

“Whew!” Roseanne places her cloth napkin on the table. “Maybe we’ll save the ice cream for tomorrow. I’ll help with the dishes.” She takes the ice cream in the kitchen, not even giving you or Somi the chance to be unladylike and gorge yourselves. Despite you really wanting to. Chaeyeon tries to help clean the dishes but Roseanne shoos her away, saying she did enough by cooking. She accepts this with very little convincing, which means Mingyu and Yunho are no longer making their way to the kitchen. They instead follow Chaeyeon, disappearing up the stairs. 

Feeling no urge to go upstairs, you go help Roseanne. Your heart jumps when Jaemin does the same, brain chugging when Taehyun pops in as well. It’s a given that Jake comes, but sadly, Yizhuo retreats upstairs. Your chest constricts watching her, hoping she doesn't give up.

With the five of you, the mountain of dishes feel less daunting. Jake is watching Roseanne intently as he makes the soapy water. Your people watching is cut short by something white rising up and entering your vision. You gasp as a mountain of bubbles stretches up from the sink. Jake turns his attention back to his task, realizing he’s been dumping dish soap under the running water. He quickly shuts off the water, panicking as he takes in the bubble mountain. 

You laugh loudly, trying to stop so you can help him out. “It’s okay, we can use the dishes to pack it down.” You squeeze out. You go to pick up a plate but Jaemin stops you. “Wait a sec.”

You watch him in confusion as he takes a handful of the airy bubbles. He cradles them carefully before catapulting them into your face. You sputter as everyone around you laughs. You shoot him a death glare before arming yourself.

Washing the dishes has quickly turned into two children playing with bubbles. Jake pauses his amusement to shoot a cautious glance at Roseanne. She’s looking on in disbelief, trying and failing to contain her own amusement. Jake grabs his own handful and places it on top of Roseanne’s head. Jake is quickly mortified as Roseanne gasps, realizing he chose the worst place. Messing up her hair could be a huge dick move. His mortification is soothed after she takes those same bubbles and throws them toward him.

Instead of packing the bubbles down, they end up decreasing from time passing and being scooped up. Taehyun watches with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter and shaking his head. He dips his head to laugh as some gets in your mouth. You step back, trying to gain your bearings but end up slipping on the floor that’s much more slippery now. You nearly bash your head on the floor but Taehyun reaches out and grabs you. He hoists you up until your back is against his chest. Your heart is pounding because of the adrenaline and you try to catch your breath. That never happens as your brain focuses on how firm Taehyun’s chest is and how strong his arms feel hooked under your armpits. You slide away and thank him. 

“Okay let’s actually do what we came here to do.” Roseanne sets her hands on her hips to try and calm herself.

-🖊️⇝

“Who are you guys interested in?”

Why Somi asks this after how dinner went is beyond you. 

“I’m not sure yet.” Roseanne’s smooth Australian voice makes you forgive her blatant lie. Unless one bubble fight was enough to move her heart. 

“I think Jake is very sweet.” Yizhuo breaks free from her catatonic state to reveal her true feelings. “He’s my dream guy.”

“Mingyu’s very very very hot.” Somi sounds like she’s mourning and yearning at the same time. “God I want him so bad.”

The room goes quiet, and you watch Chaeyeon expecting her to go first. 

“Chaeyeon is pretty popular though, huh?” Roseanne laughs. 

“It seems like two guys like you.” Yizhuo comments wistfully. 

“Yeah.” Somi mutters, picking at her nails.

“But I think two guys like you too.” Roseanne turns toward you. You lift slightly with confusion and shock evident on your face. When that doesn’t help you out, you point at yourself. 

“Yeah. Jaemin said he had fun with you after you went upstairs. And I think Taehyun is interested too.”

“No way.” You shake your head, trying to do the math yourself. Jaemin plays around with you like a sibling. Except for that one thing. And Taehyun? He clearly likes nobody.

“I honestly think neither of them like me.” You squint once the picture doesn’t get clearer.

“I saw Taehyun staring at you a couple times.” Roseanne states. 

“Really? I…”

“I saw you guys staring at each other during dinner. Did you somehow miss that too?” Somi asks sarcastically. 

“Yeah but…” You guess you don’t really know what he’s thinking. Then your brain reflects back to how he felt against you. What if you had pushed your ass back–

“Goodnight!” You shout, turning off the lamp by your bed. The damn tone sounds over the speakers and everyone groans.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, singles! Ladies, there is a piece of paper, an envelope, and a pen. Please write a letter to the man you want to match up with. Stick the letter into the envelope and address it to him. But don’t reveal who you are! Make him feel who it’s from.”

siren masterlist

#nct #txt #jaemin #taehyun #smut #siren #angst #humor

[restlessreveries]

choosing violence: 8, 9, 10, 19

Oh boy, alright let's see...

I think I'm gonna have to roll 8 & 10 into the same response MOSTLY because I don't really know what to put on 8 exactly but I also feel like 10 kinda applies to it?

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about/10. worst part of fanon

BUT YEAH, it's the fandom's insistence that Sol is miserable/bored/apathetic and desperate to get out of the time loop (or whatever you call this not-loop arrangement). I swear, if I see another fic that has Sol feeling like shit because of the time loop thing I'm going to... not really do anything. Except maybe scream really loudly internally.

It's not like they're re-watching the same movie a thousand times and we only really see a small sample of the infinite possibilities they have on hand, but people are so fond of the despair over time loop thing and I kinda hate it.

9. worst part of canon

That we don't get a "I was a 20-something exocolonist" Continuation? No? That's cheating? Okay, let's see...

This is actually a tough one 'cause I've got several small annoyances but I think the big one is that no matter what you do, nobody will believe Sol about the visions or aliens (Like FFS even Dys can be the person who triggers Sol getting sent to be lobotomized). And special shoutout to that one event on the ridge where Utopia is more willing to believe that Dys has a secret older brother (SHE SPENT 20 YEARS ON THAT SAME SHIP! D8<) than that Sol is telling the truth about Sym being an alien. And then when you talk to the council at the end they go "Yeah no, lol we knew there was an alien presence out there". I get that Sol probably does a lot of faulty predictions too, but I just wish there was a golden route where people started trusting them if you somehow managed to mysteriously be in the right place at the right time to keep saving people's lives. Or something.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

Vace would be the easy answer here but I'm actually not picking him for this. No, I'm gonna pick the other guy who I don't exactly like as as much as I kind of appreciate in terms of writing and find fascinating.

It's Lum.

It took me many months to actually start thinking about this guy more than writing him off as comically inept space dictator-wannabe. But when you take a step back he's actually kind of interesting. I think I'll put why under a readmore tho, 'cause while my earlier responses has some spoilers this goes into more important events.

Basically, I think Lum is interesting because he looks so dumb and inept and comically evil at first glance. But once you learn about the earth fleet, things start to look a bit differently.

Him being so rough with Utopia isn't just him being over the top evil for the sake of it. He's on a major time limit to get this planet into what the earth fleet considers shape, (with the "or else" option being them glassing the place) and Utopia confronts him in front of the entire colony, questioning his leadership and putting him on the spot. So he thinks and acts fast and brutally to force things back under his control 'cause he really can't risk losing that.

And when you think about it, a lot of his decisions are in the same line. Poorly thought out ways to handle the immense pressure he's under. He's not well suited for this, was probably never taught to handle these kind of decisions. The Helios supposedly got there in about 15 years and Lum is listed at 25 at the start of the game (30 on arrival), so he got onboard of that military ship when he was 15, grew up with a very limited worldview and was suddenly put in command of the entire operation. (he was like, second in command of communications before?) With the earth fleet threat breathing down his neck.

This isn't me excusing his behavior by the way. He did things that range from extremely shitty to horrifying. But part of me can't stop thinking about how much more chill he seems if he gets kicked from the leadership role, and that one Glow attack where he recklessly used himself as bait to lure the two faceless.

Basically, if Vace is the guy I want to put in a hamster ball and kick down the stairs. Lum is the guy I'd like to put by a pool and give a gym membership to in the peace ending, and then come back ten years later to see if he's turned into the himbo I suspect he could potentially be.

#Should I put this in the main tag? #Yeah why not we're choosing violence today #Exocolonist #Iwatex #What's the worst that could happen anyway #Inb4 I am excommunicated from the fandom

[cursedfortune]

“  i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me. you bark, and you growl, but you never bite. not me, at least.  ”

My Brand. @fallesto

"Others always assume that because of what I am, personality and purpose both, that I harbor favor for the bold and audacious. To a degree, they are correct. There's nothing like initiative to get me excited." The witch half turned towards her husband. If he wished to speak such things, she'd humor him with a sour joke. "They think if they are these things, I'll favor them."

"They're wrong." It was a simple truth and one he needed to be reminded of as she turned to face him, her expression lacking the usual mirth that was so often present. "Audacious and bold individuals aren't always successful. More often than not they are just making fools of themselves by speaking what they think is correct."

Mortem closed the distance between them quickly, her palm meeting his chest abruptly - covering over his heart for a gentle moment before her fingers curled into the front of his coat. "Husband. We've hurt one another aplenty. You fly off the handle, I get furious and defend myself. Other times I feel poorly and become irritable by your ignorance - justifiable or not. We are the only individuals capable of enduring one another. Sometimes it's hurtful, sometimes it's fun to blow off some steam."

"But the hurt is a natural part of any organism. Sentient beings have the ability to process it. I don't think ill of the hurt you've caused me, nor do I think it of any I've caused you. We grow and become stronger with it. But I'll concede, you are correct - I will not seek to ruin you. I have no desire to, at least not in this manner. You're mine."

Was it not evident in the way she did not throw idle threats? Words of warning arose when he began needling at her, irritating her when his own mood was foul and he directed it her way. When he misunderstood and acted impulsively. He knew well if he damaged her enough it wasn't him that would pay the price, but the souls he kept imprisoned here that she'd use as fuel to reforge her body swiftly.

Regulus was moody, temperamental - if he misjudged a situation, a sentence, chances were high he'd act out. But she was not like him. When he barked and growled, he would bite. Hard. She was a quieter thing by comparison, for she saw personal no value in threats or outbursts unless pushed to a point. Reactionary. Words of warning, a heated suggestion when annoyance began to simmer within.

He was right - to a point. But he was an idiot to think she couldn't. Her desire not to was strong-- she wanted to keep him safe, not be a thing that did more harm. She didn't want to be that again, not with him.

The witch was not known to be a kind thing but with him and for him, she was. Regulus had earned her sweetness, even if at times he also earned her ire. The two were bound to have miscommunications, to falter - but they proved they came back stronger every time.

"You're my husband. You're the only one I'll stay my hand for. Chart the map within my heart and see it for yourself." Her hand slid off his chest with a frown, "You may be right on this matter, but don't be a fool and overlook the value that can be found in the hurt that we sometimes cause one another. It is evidence of our love and acceptance."

#fallesto #asks

[tearose26]

A Defense(?) of Holly

I’ll be upfront: I do not think Holly has done anything wrong across the books and that Lucy’s contempt can be mostly (but not entirely) attributed to having a huge case of bitch eating crackers. That said, I do think a lot of the friction between the two is exacerbated by the fact that to Lucy, Lockwood and co is her home, while to Holly, Lockwood and co is her workplace.

Lucy’s coworkers are her roommates (and, though this is more unspoken in the books, her family); her work life and private life are intertwined to the point of being almost inseparable. This is not something Lucy dislikes; I don’t have the book on me at hand, but I distinctly remember Lucy at the beginning of The Hollow Boy reflecting on how busy they were but how contented she feels with the life she has. Holly’s introduction feels incongruous in part because her presence is purely professional. She does not move in with them and thus develop the kind of domestic closeness with them that comes from being roommates; she arrives at 9 am, works her contracted set of hours, then goes home.

As such, Holly does not share in the informal bickering that Lucy, Lockwood and George engage in. She, like most of us who work, puts on a professional work persona and sticks to it. It does mean that she is going to come across as kind of fake and insincere, because all professional work personas (particularly of the white-collar, secretarial kind that Holly does) necessarily involve a bit of faking and insincerity. This kind of exactingly agreeable, pleasant and polite behaviour is, coincidentally, something that Lucy is extremely bad at both doing and engaging with.

This is not really anyone’s fault, I would say. Just as Lucy treats her home as a home, Holly, quite reasonably, treats her workplace as a workplace. She sees herself as under no obligation to share her private life and true feelings with her colleagues, and where annoyances/disagreements among the trio are normally resolved through direct arguments/bickering, she does so through trying to come up with for the most conflict-defusing, maximally diplomatic response.

I have to admit, if I were in Lucy’s shoes, I also wouldn’t take to the workplace-ification (so to speak) of my home particularly gracefully. Imagine if you were lying in bed having a nice sleep-in and a work colleague knocked on your door and asked, hey sorry hope I’m not disturbing but I was wondering if you were coming to the 10:30 meeting? I would feel kind of uncomfortable and imposed on! At the same time, it wouldn’t be fun for the person knocking on the door either; it’s an awkward situation for all! I know the example I used is not quite the same as the actual event in The Hollow Boy, but in my opinion Holly’s main sin was being a bit gauche in how she handled it.

While we aren’t privy to Holly’s thoughts throughout The Hollow Boy (worse yet: everything we get is through Lucy’s perspective), I see no evidence that Holly is being deliberately manipulative or underhanded towards Lucy. All I see is Holly doggedly trying to maintain a professional relationship with a colleague who, let’s be real, is being an asshole to her. (In my head I like to imagine she goes home each night and vents to her flatmates about ugh this bratty teen who has decided to hate me for some goddamn reason) When Holly loses it and finally goes off at Lucy, the vast majority of her complaints are (very reasonably!) about Lucy’s unfounded and poorly-disguised contempt towards her.

(On a slightly unrelated note: I do think, strangely enough, that The Hollow Boy may be the book I enjoyed the most. It certainly has the most going on, psychologically, with Lucy regarding her feelings of jealousy, inadequacy and displacement. But you do need to have a certain patience for teenage bullshit, because frankly a lot of it is teenage bullshit. All this drama is really just Lucy not knowing two basic co-worker skills: How To Interact With Colleagues You Don’t Personally Vibe With and How To Use Your Words To Tell Someone That What They Are Doing Is A Bit Annoying.)

#lockwood and co #meta

[give-soup-please]

How about the Narrator encouraging an autistic reader who has been made to feel embarrassed about their special interests in the past? He wants them to open up and just go wild telling him everything about their special interests, but there's a barrier of shame that the reader is dealing with. He eventually succeeds in getting them comfortable enough to open up, but it takes a lot of time, encouragement, and a build up of trust between them to get to that point.

Narrator encouraging reader to talk about their special interests (platonic, but could be read as romantic)

(slight bending of the prompt. hope that's cool)

The narrator knows he’s close to breaking through some important barriers you have. Of course, he recognizes the value of handling these things delicately, so he gently taps away at your shields. 

He wants to know as much about you as you’re willing to share. Your world is so fascinating, so much more complicated than his, and he enjoys your company so very much.

He’ll encourage you to talk at length about whatever you want. As strange as it may sound, he enjoys the sound of your voice. He’s been on his own for so long, talking at instead of talking with. It makes all the difference in the world now that he has someone who can respond live and ask questions and- Well. Like he said, your company is enjoyable.

The only problem is, there’s a certain barrier between you and him. There’s a subject that’s brought up occasionally that causes something to come over you. You cough and clear your throat, as if swallowing the words back, and the narrator’s curiosity is piqued. 

This particular subject is one of your ‘Big Favorites’, something you could go on forever about it- if you weren’t so embarrassed, that is. You wanted very much to ramble and rant and rave about it. It occupied your thoughts a large amount of the time, and when you weren’t engaged in conversation with the narrator, it was usually what you defaulted to thinking about. 

You want to talk about it so badly, it aches sometimes. But you’d been treated so poorly about it in the past. You remember laughter and scorn and annoyance. And you liked spending time with the narrator so much that the thought of him treating you like that was unbearable. So you held your tongue.

The narrator is very, very patient and coaxing. “Come now, reader, I’m sure there’s something more you have to say about this. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”

If you indicate you’re uncomfortable, he immediately backs down, but decides to try again later.

He knows there’s something big you’re not saying. He’s so curious, it drives him half mad sometimes. 

Luckily, the narrator’s patience is no match for anyone’s stubbornness. He will outlast anyone. 

It takes time. Months and months of “I’d love to hear you talk about this more.” and “Please do speak up if you have something to say, reader.”

Eventually the dam breaks. You inhale, because the narrator is skirting around your favorite subject again, possibly without realizing it. You let out an absolute storm of words, and with a slight amount of horror, you realize that you can’t quite stop yourself. 

You talk about everything that subject consists of. Its history, which you’ve memorized, many different versions of said subject and how it’s changed throughout the years, how this subject has impacted your life personally- you just keep going. Twenty minutes have passed and you’re panting for breath. 

The narrator is ecstatic. Finally, you had opened up to him. He sees you shaking. What-

“Please don’t laugh at me.” You whisper. And the narrator understands. Not the full picture, of course, but he’s beginning to see why you were hesitating. 

“Oh reader,” He sighs. “I’m not going to make fun of you for your interests. Some heartless bastard may have done it in the past, but- Well, I enjoy listening to you. Do you really think I'd ask you repeatedly to talk if I wasn’t interested in what you had to say?”

You think. “Well, I don’t really know what to tell you. I’ve had so many negative responses over the years that it’s hard to accept-” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

The narrator understands another piece. He struggles with positive affirmations too, especially since those negative reviews were spotted in the memory zone. “There, there reader. It’s alright. You aren’t being annoying or bothersome when you talk to me about the things you love.” He laughs, slightly embarrassed. “As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you to continue. It was wonderful.”

You ask him if he’s sure three times, to make absolutely certain. Once he gives his confirmation the third time, you take another deep breath, and fill in the gaps that you had left while you were talking. 

The narrator leans back, completely content. He’s so happy you’ve decided to trust him, even if that first burst was by accident. He can work with that. Now that he’s gotten you to talk once, it’s only a matter of time before he learns how to get you to do it again. Only a matter of time.     

#the stanley parable #tsp narrator #headcanon #answered ask #tsp #stanley parable #narrator #could be read as platonic or romantic #platonic