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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

Text

kinktober: ghostface

words: 6.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, f masturbation, death/killing, blood, knives, f receiving oral, attempted rape (from not rafe), noncon/dubcon, p in v sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv

"why do you keep looking at your phone, y/n?" your best friend, jennifer, asks, leaning over to look at the screen but you quickly click it off, setting it face down on the table.

"it's nothing." you shake your head. "ive just been getting some texts from an unknown number."

"what do they say?" your friend asks, and then presses further when you keep your mouth tightly closed, "are they creepy?"

"a bit…" you shrug.

"do you know who it is?"

"clearly not!" you snap, the text messages have put you on such an edge. you don't mean to lash out on your friend, but you just can't help it. "sorry." you sigh, letting your head drop into your hands, rubbing your eyes with the pads of your fingers.

"y/n…" she sighs "i can tell how worked up you are, maybe just block the number?"

"yeah, maybe." you mumble, but you know that you're lying to her. it's too intoxicating, the obsessive attention that the anonymous texter gives you.

your phone dings and you jump, quickly picking it back up. you see something unexpected: a photo of yourself, sitting across the table from your friend, clearly taken just moments before it was sent, of course by the same unknown number. your head snaps up, scanning the tables on the other side of the restaurant, but there's so many faces you recognize along with this being the most popular lunch spot for college students attending your university.

"what is it?" jennifer asks. you almost forgot she was sitting across from you, attention solely on the mysterious texter. "y/n, is it the same number?"

"no." you shake your head, giving another glance around the restaurant. "just my ex boyfriend."

you look beautiful tonight. you read the text, speeding up your walk. you still aren’t replying, thinking it was best to let whoever was on the other end talk themselves bored, but they’ve continued with no response over the past week, showing no sign of letting up now.

are you scared? you pause briefly and look around. there’s no one that you can see. you turn up your pace into a light jog, regretting being out at night but needing to get from your evening class back to your apartment just off campus.

it would be a shame if someone took you right now. your heart is beating faster than ever as you break out into a full sprint, eyes blurring slightly with tears until you get to your apartment door, unlocking it quickly with shaking hands. you’re not sure you could hear someone walking up behind you with how loud your breathing is.

you rush in as soon as the door is unlocked, latching it behind you and then proceeding to draw all the curtains in the house. you run upstairs to your bed, needing the comfort of being under the sheets and locked behind several doors.

sleep tight, princess.

“did you hear?” jennifer asks, bursting through your door the second it’s unlocked.

“hear what?” you ask, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, knowing you need to head out soon to get to class on time.

“oh my god, it’s a tragic. a girl got murdered last night on campus.” “what?” your movements halt, turning to look at the wide eyed expression on jennifers face. “who?” “i don’t know, they’re not saying yet. they found her hanging in a tree! i guess she was really bloody because whoever saw her said they couldn’t make out her face.” “ugh, that’s horrible!” you say, feeling a shiver run through your body. you were just walking alone at campus late at night.

“but there’s good news! classes are canceled for today and all evening classes are moved to online until future notice, probably until they find the killer.” you don’t know how to respond to that, but at knowing you don’t need to head to class you do feel a bit of relief, even if the emotion is quickly followed by guilt. you close and relock the door, even more cautious knowing that there is a murderer on the loose along with your mysterious texter.

you sit down on your couch, curling your knees up into your chest. “do you think it’s related to that kasia girl who got killed last year?” “i mean it has to be, right?” jennifer plops down next to you. “what are the odds of two girls being violently killed and-” “okay, stop.” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your legs to quell the chills.

did you hear?

you gulp receiving the text. there’s no way anyone on campus could have missed the news, it’s all that’s been circling over the past three days, and you have no doubt thats what your mysterious texter is referring to.

yes. you type back, hitting send before even realizing that you were supposed to not be communicating back.

so lucky it wasn’t you. after all, i saw you walking that night. but i didn’t choose you.

your eyes widen. what does he mean choose? did you kill that girl? you text back quickly, hesitating only a moment before sending it.

yes. because i can’t kill you.

“and you say you have no idea who has been sending you these text messages, ma’am?” the man asks.

“no, they started out of nowhere, and i thought they were creepy but i didn’t think it was… if i thought it was the killer i would have brought it to you earlier.” the police detective nods, jotting down some notes. “and you give us permission to keep the phone as evidence?” “yes, god, i don’t want it.” you already jotted down your important contacts, and have plans to head right to the store after and buy a new phone, with a whole new number.

“okay miss… you do understand that if we find this to be just an elaborate prank that there will be serious punishment for wasting our time.” you sit back in your chair, shocked that the detective would even suggest that. “it’s not a prank. they’ve been texting me before the girl was even murdered, i don’t know how you expect me to have planned all that.” “hm.” the detective just hums in dismissal, setting the phone to the side of his desk. you assume he’s not even going to look into it further, but you’re glad to be rid of it.

“i can’t believe classes are still going on today. another body was just found last night!” jennifer says, smearing her fry in ketchup before sticking it in her mouth.

“he was found just off campus, i think that’s their reasoning.” you say, looking nervously around the university cafeteria. “not that i agree.”

“oh my god!” your other friend, stephanie, gasps, looking up from her phone. “it was scott moss!”

“the football player?” you ask, also pulling out your phone. you unlock it, still getting used to the slight differences from your old phone. you search his name, and true enough, the first article that pops up is that the second (or third? as the article questions) body to be found has been identified as scott moss. the first body got identified a few days ago, but you didn’t know the girl.

“this is fucking crazy.” jennifer says, reaching for another fry.

“this article says the police are saying that the knife used to kill the girl last year is the same one used on the two new victims!” stephanie reads out.

“holy fuck, do you think they’re gonna investigate rafe again?” jennifer asks, turning to look at you.

“rafe got cleared, right? i think it’s unfair to hold it over his head just because he got questioned by the police.” you say.

“please, we all know he only got released because of his rich daddy.” your phone buzzes, and you flick your eyes down to the screen, blood turning cold.

you didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?

“hey, rafe.” you mumble, sliding into the seat next to him, able to feel the nervous energy in the room.

“hey.” he says in return, eyes on the desk in front of you. it’s clear from the moment you walked in that people were purposefully sitting further away from him than normal in the large lecture hall. over the past year, the fact that rafe was ever questioned about the first murder was forgotten, pushed to the back burner by whatever new gossip was sweeping campus, but with the new killing spree, he was back on their radar.

“surprised you’re sitting next to me.” rafe says, hands gripping his pencil tightly.

you know people are bound to whisper about you next, but you want to show that you don’t believe rafe could do it. you’re not that close to him, but he was your lab partner last semester and you believe yourself to be able to tell when someone is a crazy serial killer or not.

“why wouldn’t i?” you question, giving rafe a small smile. “besides, who else am i gonna get notes off of for when the professor changes the slides too fast again?” --

you lay in your bed, wishing you could just go to sleep, but you’re too alert, waiting for something to happen, a noise or movement, but it doesn’t come. you pick up your phone, scrolling through instagram until you get bored of your repetitive feed.

your finger hovers over an app. you shouldn’t, but you do. you click open the text message thread, with only a single, taunting message sent so far.

hello.

you watch the screen for a response, surprised when they immediately begin typing back. miss me?

you catch yourself before you laugh. why did you kill scott?

why do you care?

you sit and think for a moment. i guess i don’t. you feel ashamed, but there is no judgment coming from the person on the other end.

i saw you on campus today. i like your hair in braids. wear it like that tomorrow.

you set your phone down on the nightstand, turning the screen face down. your sleep is constantly interrupted, waking up at every sound you hear, so by the time you drag yourself out of bed in the morning, it feels like you’ve gotten barely an hour all together, but still, when you head into the bathroom to get ready, you brush your teeth and then part your hair directly down the middle, braiding each side neatly.

your phone pings from the bedroom and you rush back in to look at it.

ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS: all classes and campus activity has been suspended effective immediately. common areas will remain open during the day, and we strongly advise all students to travel in pairs. a lockdown will be put into effect starting at 9pm every night, where all students must remain in their dormitories.

you head into the living room, clicking on the tv while typing out a text to jennifer.

“yet another murder has shocked the university.” you look up from your phone to watch the news report. “after linking the recent two killings of college students with the murder of kasia walters just over a year ago, a third murder has occured just last night, and we have exclusive details, including, an eye witness.”

you sit down on the couch, forgetting about your half drafted text as the news coverage reveals another classmate killed, again out in the open, but this time someone from inside one of the dorms happened to be looking out there window and witnessed someone dressed in all black except for a white ghost mask stab the girl multiple times.

they show the ghost mask, apparently a popular one that can be bought at tons of stores, already starting to brandish the serial killer with the nickname ‘ghostface.’

your phone buzzes in your hand. she had her hair in braids like yours.

is that why you killed her?

i killed her because i can’t kill you.

part of you wants to ask why, but a bigger part of you doesn’t want to know.

you find yourself with nothing to do all day except scroll through social media. you don’t even have assignments to work on with classes being canceled instead of just moved online.

you open all the curtains in your apartment to get some natural light in, but keep every door and window firmly latched. you know you should start some routine to keep you from going crazy and thinking about the murderer.

you move from the couch to your bed, because why sit when you can lay down. you sigh and open up tumblr, scrolling through your feed until you get to a smut of your favorite character. you bite your lip and open it.

as you read, your hand drifts lower, rubbing your pussy from over your clothes as the words on your screen turn you on. you let out a soft moan, thankful for the soundproof walls of your apartment, and the fact that the unit next to yours is currently empty.

no better way to let out some stress with a good masturbation session. you push your hand down under your pants and underwear, sighing when you get a touch at your bare skin, fingers finding your clit and stroking over it as your eyes continue to follow the fanfiction.

dirty girl.

you jump at the text, glancing around the room, eyes landing on the open window. you can’t see anyone through it, but apparently they can see you.

don’t stop on my account.

you feel more turned on than you should, continuing to slowly move your fingers underneath you sweatpants.

take them off for me. let me see your pretty pussy.

your cunt clenches around nothing at the words. you’ve never dirty talked with a man before, and really you’re not, responding with your body instead of replying to the texts. you stand up off the bed, knowing you shouldn’t, but you push your pants down, quickly followed by your underwear. you lay back on the bed, angling yourself slightly towards your window.

there you go. touch yourself again for me.

you begin to stroke over your pussy again, circling your clit as you wait for another text.

i would bury my head between your legs. i bet you taste delicious.

you let out a moan, moving faster.

i would have you cumming around my cock.

have you ever had that before baby? or are you a virgin?

you would never admit it to any of your friends, but you find yourself using one hand to type out the singular word: virgin.

the reply takes too long to come, you’re growing frustrated as your clit pulses.

i’ll be your first. cum for me, princess.

you toss your head back on the bed, flicking over your clit until you can’t hold it back any longer, cumming with a series of loud moans, spreading your legs wide to give whoever is watching you a good view as you cum, pussy clenching around nothing, practically inviting him in to fuck you.

you feel the shame the second your orgasm subsides, snapping your legs closed, standing up and shutting the shade, blocking out any view of your bedroom from the outside.

“no seriously, don’t you think a party is like the worst idea right now?” “no!” jennifer laughs. “it’s perfect. a bunch of people, all together. so literally nothing bad can happen!”

you’re reluctant to agree, but it’s too hard to say no to your best friend, so you cave and get ready with her in your bedroom, applying some light makeup before spending half an hour choosing the right outfit. as much as you don’t want to go, if you are gonna, you are at least gonna look good.

you arrive at the party just before sunset, of course taking place at a frat house. thankfully it’s only about a three minute walk from your apartment, so both you and jennifer could drink as much as you pleased without being worried about finding a ride back, you could practically see your front door.

“gonna get us some drinks!” jennifer yells over the pumping music, and you nod, trying to find a place to stand that doesn’t have someone bumping into you every second. there’s nothing like a murder spree to bring a college campus together as you see some very unlikely people to be at a frat party.

“here you go!” jennifer hands you a cup of clear liquid. you know better than to smell it before you shoot it down your throat, cringing at the burn when you pull the plastic cup away from your lips.

“that’s fucking disgusting!”

“i know isn’t it great!” jennifer yells in laughter, and you can’t help but join in the infectious sound.

“lets dance!” you say, feeling the alcohol moving through your system. the whole house is practically a dance floor, but it’s centralized in the living room, so you push through the outliers until you’re in the center of the crowd, laughing and jumping with jennifer as you move to the beat.

“i’m gonna get another cup, do you want more?” jennifer asks, having to yell practically in your ear for you to hear her over the music.

you shake your head, happy to keep dancing with just the lightest buzz. while jennifer is away, no doubt struggling to push her petite frame through the crowd, you feel a pair of hands on your hips. you turn to see who is trying to dance with you, frowning when its brandon richmond. he tried to hit on you so many times last year you lost count, but you turned him down every time.

you pull out of his grasp and put a couple of bodies between yours between dancing again, but when you see brandon following you throughout the crowd, you duck away, heading down the back hallway and out the door to the patio. you breathe in the fresh air, surprised to see no one else back here taking advantage of the quiet, even though the thump of base is still loud.

you lean against the fence of the balcony, looking out past the backyard, realizing you can see the back of your apartment buildings from here, including right into your bedroom window. a shutter runs down your back thinking about someone watching you through it, even though you tend to keep the curtains drawn shut.

“what’re you doing?” you hear a voice slur, causing you to jump, turning around quickly to see brandon standing in the doorway.

“just needed some fresh air.” you say, trying to pull the hem of your skirt down farther, regretting the outfit choice.

“i hope you weren’t trying to get away from me.” brandon says, and his words have you pausing to consider that he may be the mysterious texter, the killer. after all, he raged after you finally firmly told him no. he didn’t hurt you, but you were afraid he might.

“n-no.” you back away, but there’s nowhere to go except down the steps and into the grass, into the darkness of the tree lined fence, but you’re willing to risk whatever is in the shadows before you stay this close to brandon.

you turn and retreat down the steps, hoping he will give up and go back inside, but when you feel his hands on your waist you know he’s not giving up any time soon.

“stop!” you shout, feeling one hand move up and grip your breast tightly, squeezing so hard it hurts.

brandon turns you around in his grasp, leaning forward in a clear attempt to kiss you, when suddenly he stops, face going slack as he pitches forward, making you step out of his way so he falls on the grass instead of on you.

your eyes travel from his body, not moving, to where he previously stood. you take a step back before releasing a scream. it’s him, it’s ghostface, standing there with a bloodied knife in his hand.

he takes no interest in you as he bends over brandon, stabbing him again in the back, and that’s when you realize theres blood spurting out of him. on the third swing of the blade you finally realize you need to move, turning away and heading towards home. you run as fast as you can between the houses, keeping your eyes on your apartment, not wanting to know how closely he was following you.

you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and you wonder briefly if it’s ghostface or if it’s jennifer asking where you disappeared to.

you reach your door, thankful for briefly being in track in middle school for your ability to run fast. your hands fumble with your key, letting out a curse when you drop it from your hands shaking too hard, feeling like you’re in a horror movie as you finally get it unlocked.

you go to swing the door shut behind you, but it doesn’t latch. you fearfully turn around, realizing that his hand stopped the door from closing.

“p-please, i-” you back away as he steps into your space, your home, what was supposed to be the one place you were safe. he closes the door behind him, and you shudder hearing the click of the lock.

you turn and run towards the kitchen, hearing his footfalls close behind as you round the island counter in any attempt to get away, taking a cookie tray from off the counter and tossing it behind you as you run. it gives you enough time to head into your room, locking the door behind you.

you head immediately to the window, knowing your apartment is no longer safe. you open it up, thankful for once to live on the first floor. you try to pull yourself up and over, but it’s too high off the ground and you’re wasting precious time struggling.

you grab your chair from your desk, pushing it under the window and climbing onto it. you get one leg over the ledge, when a hand grabs your thigh, pushing you back into the room and onto the floor.

you scream as ghostface catapults through your window, smashing the pane shut behind him. locked in. you turn onto your back, trying to inch away as he begins to rant.

“i told you i would not kill you!” he screams. “i told you yet you still run from me!” your brow furrows as you try to place the voice. it’s so familiar.

“i killed that boy for trying to rape you, and your thanks is to scream and run?”

“rafe.” you let out a sigh in realization.

ghostface takes the mask and pulls it off his head, revealing a face that has your heart breaking. no. there’s no way he could be the murderer. the stalker.

“please don’t hurt me.” you whimper, using your bedpost to help pull yourself up off the floor.

“i could never hurt you.” rafe steps closer, reaching out to you, his glove leaving a smear of cold wetness on your cheek as he gently rubs it, and it takes you a second to realize it’s blood. “even though i want to.” “wh-why do you want to hurt me?” you ask.

“i love you too much. it’s the same reason i can’t.” rafe sighs.

“thank you.” you whisper, unsure if this is the right course of action, but not wanting to anger him. “thank you for saving me.” rafe gives you a smile, one that dazzles you even after knowing the truth. “i knew you would understand me. you were the only person who knew i didn’t kill kasia.”

your eyes widen, “you didn’t.” it’s not a question, it’s a realization.

“no. and no one believed me. i was in jail for a week, questioned for hours on end. nobody even cared to look at her boyfriend.” “i didn’t know she had a boyfriend…” you try to rack your brain to remember who she was often seen with, “scott moss.” “i knew nobody would believe me that scott murdered her. i had to get rid of him myself.” “and the other girls you killed?” you question, trying to back away from rafe but he just follows, not letting you get more than a foot apart.

“they reminded me of you.”

“no.” you let out a sob, unable to hold it back anymore. “no, it can’t be my fault.” “shh.” rafe tugs his gloves off his hands, dropping them onto your floor. he cups your face in his hand, making you look up at him. “don’t cry. i hate seeing you cry. it makes me want to kill.” that sobers you up quickly, sniffling as you try to stop the tears. “i’m sorry.” you whisper.

“it’s okay… can i cheer you up baby? can i make you feel better?” “how would you do that?” you ask, and rafe leans forward to show you, pressing his lips against yours gently. you hesitate, realizing how absolutely wrong this is. you just saw rafe kill someone, but the feel of his lips against yours has you feeling dizzy, starting to slowly kiss back.

as soon as you show some initiative, rafe becomes feral, mouth dominating yours in harsh kisses as he moves his hands to your waist, fingers slipping into the space between your skirt and crop top. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him pulled tight to you.

“get undressed.” rafe says, pulling away harshly. he pulls the costume off over his head, revealing plain clothes underneath it. you stand transfixed as he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing golden skin. rafe looks up, realizing that you’re not moving.

he reaches around his back to pull something out of your waistband. your eyes widen when the silver glint of the knife shines in the low light, “i said, get undressed!” rafe yells, pointing the knife at you.

you’re quick to move, toeing off your heels, pulling your skirt down and tugging your shirt off. you look up to see rafe removing his underwear. your eyes widen at his hard cock. you unclip your bra, tugging it off and then followed by your underwear, leaving you completely nude.

rafe looks at you, eyes moving all the way from your toes to your head, examining every inch of your body.

“you’re so beautiful.” he steps closer, hand cupping your breast, thumb gently rubbing over the side of it. “i would have been soft with you tonight, knowing you’re a virgin. but that was before you ran from me, and disobeyed me. get on the bed.”

you don’t hesitate this time, laying on the bed, with your head against the pillows. rafe sets the hunting knife on the nightstand, draping his body over yours, and you can’t help the rush of wetness that floods your pussy when you feel his cock rest against your thigh.

“i’m going to make you feel so good. so much better than brandon or any other guy ever could.” rafe smashes his lips against yours, battling with your tongue. his hands grip your jaw, squeezing your face as he moans into your mouth, rutting his cock against your skin.

rafe pulls his mouth away, moving it to your neck, sucking harshly. you can feel the blood rushing to the spot, forming deep bruises as he moves lower to your chest, marking your decolletage.

“i’ve wanted this for so long. now i finally get to taste your skin.” he wraps his mouth around your nipple, forcing a moan out of you. you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his mouth. rafe sucks harshly, like he’s trying to leave a hicky there too, before he pulls away, moving to your other breast.

instead of sucking this time, he sticks his tongue out, flicking over your nipple until it’s completely hard before taking it in between his teeth, making you shout as he tugs on the hard bud.

“rafe! oh my god!”

rafe moans against your chest, moving slightly off your nipple before biting your breast, leaving a bite mark on your skin as he continues down, kissing and licking your stomach as he moves himself down the bed, settling between your legs.

“rafe, i-” you gasp out as he kisses your thighs. you try to pull them closed, not wanting his eyes on the most intimate part of you, especially knowing how wet you are. “i’ve never-”

“never had anyone eat your pussy before?” he questions, hands shoving your legs open.

“no, i haven’t, i-” rafe cuts you off by shoving his face into your cunt. his tongue laps over your entrance, his own moans from tasting you matching your own from the unfamiliar sensation.

rafe is quick to shove his tongue into your pussy, thrusting it in and out as you bring your hands down to grip his hair, eyes briefly flashing to the knife sitting on the nightstand, knowing rafe isn’t paying any attention to it.

“more, more, more.” you beg, eyes moving back to look at rafe. the need is too great to consider doing anything to stop it.

“gonna stretch you out with my fingers, baby.” rafe says, moving his mouth up to your clit. you let out a scream at the feeling, reaching down to grip his hair in your hands. you can feel rafe smile against you, sinking his teeth into your clit as he bites it.

you squirm under the harsh feeling, it’s just too much, but he won’t let up as he pushes the tip of his finger against your puckering entrance, briefly circling it before shoving the digit inside in one firm push. your back arches off the bed as he lets go of your clit with his teeth, stroking over it with his soft tongue.

his finger pumps in and out of you, and you spread your legs wider, giving him more space to abuse your cunt as a second finger pushes in along with his first. rafe looks up at you, wicked smile on his face, “for a virgin you’re certainly acting like a slut.” you whine, feeling tears come to your eyes. “it feels too good.” “i know baby, i promised i’d make you feel better and i’m doing it, right? do you feel better?” “yeah.” you breathe out, his head dropping again to suck harshly at your clit, “yes! oh my god, rafe!”

“call me by my other name.” rafe says, only briefly pulling away from your pussy to speak before continuing to attack your clit.

you shake your head no, but rafe just gets a determined look in his eye, somehow managing to fit a third finger inside of you, stuffing your cunt full as it squeezes tightly around them, his fingers angling upward to hit the spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

rafe pulls his mouth away, thumb quickly taking its place over your clit, the rough pad rubbing harshly, tucking underneath to rub your most sensitive spot, and you can’t hold back any longer, as much as you try, “ghostface!” you shout, wetness flooding from your pussy and soaking his hands and the bed as you cum, entire body shaking as the sensation overwhelms your body, vision going black as you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing rafes laugh echoing throughout the room as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.

he pulls out suddenly and you can’t help but whine at the loss, your hole clenching around nothing. you blink your eyes open to see rafe kneeling between your legs, using the wetness from his hands to stroke his cock, coating himself in your slick.

“are you going to fuck me?” you ask, suddenly afraid of his size hurting.

“i’m sorry, princess.” rafe says, draping his body over yours, rubbing his dick against your messy cunt. “i would have been so gentle with you if you’d just behaved for me tonight.” “i’m sorry, rafe, i promise i’ll be good from now on, please go slow.” rafe frowns, like he’s seriously considering your pleas for a moment before he shakes his head, placing an elbow on one side of your head, reaching down with his other hand and lining himself up with your entrance. you breathe deeply, trying to keep your body from tensing, knowing that being relaxed will make it easier.

you cry out as rafe pushes his cock inside of you, not giving you any time to adjust as he immediately begins thrusting in and out. you watch as the eyes roll back in his head from finally being inside you.

“you’re so fucking tight, my little virgin.” rafe laughs, but it turns into a moan as he looks down at where his body is connecting with yours. “not a little virgin any longer though, huh?” rafe is bringing his entire body weight down with every thrust, and even though the stretch was painful at first, it just feels good now, the way his skin rubs against your clit every time he presses deep inside of you.

you can’t help it, when he pushes in and grinds his hips against you, your cunt flutters around his cock, squeezing it tightly, completely involuntarily from how good it feels.

“god, fuck!” rafe shouts out, making you flinch in fear.

“i’m sorry.” you whimper, eyes wide as he looks down at you, unable to read his emotions.

“you’re too fucking good.” rafe groans, hand coming up and gripping your throat, squeezing it tightly as he looks down on you. “i wish i could just fucking kill you.” your breathing is restricted, black flaring into your vision as rafe holds you by your throat, using it for leverage as he takes you repeatedly.

you try to form words, try to call out for him, and just as you start to slip into unconsciousness, rafe lowers his hand to your breast, gripping the skin there instead as you take in large gulps of air.

“i told you i wouldn’t kill you.” rafe says with a grunt, smashing your lips together in a kiss that steals your air just as much as his hand around your neck.

“it feels so good.” you cry, pleasure sparking as he pulls at your nipple before switching to the other one, his cock pushing against your sweet spot with every thrust.

“yeah?” rafe laughs harshly. “gonna cum on my cock? i told you that you would baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t-” you sob, tears flowing down your face, unable to hold back your orgasm even though you’d like to. your entire body shakes as rafe is unforgiving with his thrusts, bending and licking at your face, collecting the salty tears from your cheeks with his rough tongue.

“cum for me.” rafe grunts, pulling away to kneel between your legs, pulling your hips up off the bed to keep a deep angle as he smashes into you. “i said, cum for me!” the anger in rafes voice pushes you over the edge, scared of what he will do if you don’t follow his directions, your high washing over you, and for a second you feel like you’re floating over your body as pleasure takes over, until the sharp pain of overstimulation greets you as rafe continues to fuck you.

“please.” you try to shove him away, but he just smacks your hands away like they’re nothing more than an annoying little bug. you try next to squeeze your thighs together, but it clenches your sore cunt at the same time, making rafe moan.

“gonna cum in you.” rafe says, moving a hand to your clit, rubbing over it harshly with his palm.

“stop, stop!” you shout, your back arching and heels pushing against the bed as you try to get away from it, the overwhelmingly good feeling turning quickly to displeasure.

“never gonna stop, baby.” rafe grinds his dick inside of you, not caring for your pleasure. “now that you know who i am, i’m going to have to keep coming back here every night and fucking you silly so you can’t tell anyone.” “i won’t tell, i promise.” you try to look at rafe, but your tears cloud your vision. “i promise, rafe, please, just stop.”

you know your words aren’t what convinces him, but rather your pussy squeezing his cock, causing him to shoot his load deep inside of you as he moans, keeping your hips pushed firmly against his body. you whine as you feel him flood your insides, of course he didn’t use any protection, and you’re not on birth control, but you can’t even begin to think of the implications as long as rafe kneels over you.

“good girl.” rafe hums, patting your lower tummy as he slowly pulls out, cum falling in dollops onto your comforter.

“r-rafe.” you whimper as he lays down next to you.

“shh, baby.” he pushes your hair out of your face, leaning over your body and giving you a light kiss on the lips. your eyes fluttering closed in pure exhaustion. “i told you i won’t kill you. go to sleep. i’ll be here in the morning. i’ll always be here.”

you don’t protest as rafe pulls you into him, your body is too tired to move away from the murderer. you rest your head against his chest, still slick with sweat from fucking you.

“are you going to keep killing?” you ask quietly. you’re unsure if he hears you, as the minutes tick by, the silence of the room now deafening. “i either keep killing them or i kill you.” rafe finally says, making you shudder. “which would you rather it be?”

guilt pangs in your chest as you whisper your response, “keep killing them.”

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gloxk · 6 months

Text

Think she grippin’ on my dick but that’s my gun baby~

(Eren Y.)

A/n: Lil sum sum— srry fa neglecting yall. My schedule is so fuckkkkkeedd. But, I got sum more ‘plug’ eren comin up for my luvz. Anyway I hope yall enjoy this my luvz🫶🏽!

Synopsis: First link w Eren Yeager after not seeing him in a long time. ♥︎

Warning (s): Gun kink , dirty talk, Eren talking you through it, Mentions of drugs, riding an inanimate object, f/m, Uhm like reader calls him sir? Pet names, Needy s*x, Smut, ovi. girl yk the deal 17+ around here!

━━━━━━━♥︎━━━━━━━

You kicked your feet while biting your bottom lip, “Yeah, I know you miss me, baby.” You cheesed at his comments. Eren knew exactly what to say, his words were so sweet and slick. “Of course I miss you ren. When you gon come see me?” You heard his music blaring through his speakers. This boy really had you thinking about him every second of the day and night. “Whatchu mean? I’m outside right now ma.” You nearly took flight running down to the front door. It felt like time was nothing more than a mere interference with your speed. You swung your door open , your smile instantly dropped looking at your empty driveway “Fucking asshole, you lied.” He cackled as if you said something funny. “Nah I’m here.” He flicked his head lights grabbing your attention, you forgot his car was completely black. You didn’t understand why he would make his Hellcat so dark. Didn’t he want people to see it?

You smiled seeing him get out of his car, he looked so fucking fine in his Nike tech. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. Knees nearly buckled as Eren approached the door. You gulped back your salvia, it felt like swallowing a golf ball. “Heyyy baby.” His lips met your cheek, it’s been so long since you saw Eren. His voice held a sweet tang and a long draw to it. His fragrance was a mix of Dior Sauvage and Backwoods. His eyes spoke for themselves; red and low. “Eren—are you high?” you pulled his face closer to yours. Examining his eyes—yeah, he was fucking hammered. “When am I not?” He flashed his pearly whites, you always wonder how he got his teeth so nice and white. If perfection was a human it had to be him, there was no visible flaw within that man. “You gonna smoke your brain away if you keep it up.” You closed the door and walked with him up to your bedroom. Eren looked at you with a soft expression, his eyes locked on to yours. “Aww, you care about me, baby? Fine, I guess I have no choice but to do as you wish.”He jokingly replied. Eren didn’t have many people who cared for him, so it was nice to know you were one of the very few.

Eren found himself in your bed once again, he nuzzled into your neck while a basic Netflix movie played. He wasn’t particularly interested in the movie, and you were aware of this. But he acted like he was excited to watch it. Your hands ran over his thigh grazing over his dick. Fingertips wrapping around it. “Damn Ren, you must be very happy to see me huh?” you giggle sinking into your bed lining. Eren's dark jade eyes met yours, the lower part of his face was covered by his hand. Unbeknownst to you, he had a new hand tattoo; a skeleton face—damn he looked fine. “That ain’t my dick, that’s my gun baby.” He laid on his back, his shirt slightly lifting revealing the weapon. You couldn’t resist wrapping your fingers around the handle of his gun; it was calling your name. You held it in your hand admiring the weapon, it alone held the power to remove a soul from this world.

“You like it?” he took the gun away from your grasp. He parted your thighs placing the cold metal against your cunt. “Yes sir.” You bit your lip at the sheer cold touching you. The hairs on your neck stood up, it was so dangerous, it turned you on. He slid your panties over letting the blistering cold metal meet your pussy. The gun started at a gentle pace, moving slowly against your clit. Erens lips occupied your neck; kissing and sucking it. His tongue lightly brushed over your collarbone, you felt his tongue piercing glide against your skin. You rutted hard against his gun trying to relieve the built-up pressure in your abdomen. You didn’t want his gun, you wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you silly until you could no longer comprehend your surroundings. “Fuucck, I need more ren, I need you.” The gun hastily left your thighs. “I need you too ma.” His mouth met his glock licking your slick off of it. Eren's lips pressed firmly together creating a ‘mmm’ sound. He got on top of you pressing his chest against yours. You felt his bulge through his sweatpants, his dick was begging to be left free. He pulled his sweat pants down, just below his crotch panel. Your fingertips slipped under his elastic waistband; tugging his boxers downwards. His dick pounced out, an angry red color washed over his tip. “Fuck, it’s been too long.” He stroked his dick letting the bead of pre cum coat his tip. Eren slid inside inch by inch, he grunted feeling your heat. “Damn baby, I ain’t fuck you good in a minute huh? You miss this dick?” You nodded quickly, yes—you missed everything about him. His hand wrapped around your mouth looking at his tattoo covering your face. It turned him on seeing it on you— whether his hand was around your throat, mouth, or ass. It always looked so perfect on you.

Eren tugged your shirt up watching your tits bounce as he pounded into you. You tried to push him away from overstimulating your cunt “Nah, This what you wanted right? Take this dick.” He grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulder, he fucked you faster making you scream out. You could have sworn you put holes in the sheets because you were gripping them so tightly. You threw your head back clenching around Erens cock. Your body jolted at your release, finally letting go of that pressure you once had. “Ahh- fuck-“ you moaned while subtly grinding against his abdomen. His pace faltered, but not ending, Eren didn’t stop fucking you until he came all over your stomach. By then you were already on your third orgasm. He positioned himself beside you kissing your neck while tracing circles on your arm. “I know you love that shit.” He sighed, he was a fool for you as you were for him. He loved looking at your fucked out expression knowing he was the reason you looked like that.

“Mhm, I do, I really fucking do.” He grabbed his gun again setting it down on your chest, “That’s my favorite gun now, ima get your name carved in it.” That gun will forever be by his side from now on.

━━━━━━━♥︎━━━━━━━

4 my whores.

#eyena writes♡#eren jeager smut #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black reader #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager

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st7rnioioss · 1 month

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౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ we fell in love in october

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing, friends to lover

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hiii everyoneee. i literally just realised i reached 1.4k, thats fucking insane, thank you so so much. i love this request, had a lot of fun, thank you!!!

this is based off this request!

౨ৎ

Matt was walking beside you up to your house. You had just been driving around the area, talking about all sorts of topics. From high school to work to your personal lives.

“Thanks for walking me home, Matt. It was nice spending time with you today,” you smiled sincerely, pulling him in for a hug as you reached your front porch.

“It’s my pleasure. I had a lot of fun as well,” he chuckled, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you closer. A bit too close for people who consider themselves ‘just friends’. You pulled away with a bright smile, letting your hand linger on the back of his neck for just a moment.

“You look nice tonight, by the way. I think I kinda forgot to tell you, but I really like that dress,” he laughed nervously, scratching his head. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, the single compliment making your cheeks turn a faint pink color.

“Thank you! It’s uh- It’s new actually.” you looked down on yourself, tugging at the end of the floral dress you were wearing. “You look great too,” you nodded with a shy smile, pointing to him.

Matt couldn’t stop smiling. He simply just found you adorable to say the least.

"Thanks,” he beamed, looking back up from your dress to meet your eyes. “Well uh- I should go, it’s getting late. I’ll see you soon, okay?” he smiled, taking a tiny step backwards.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Matt.” you waved, also taking a small step back, trying not to trip over the stairs right behind you.

The old door to your house creaked as you pushed it open. You were kind of tired from hanging out with Matt all day, not that it had anything to do with him. It was just getting late.

You had gone shopping, had lunch, fed ducks at the lake, went for a late night drive, and overall just enjoyed each other's company.

Matt had been your best friend since forever. You met somewhere during junior year in high school, and after that you hadn’t been seen separately. After a few months into senior year you realized you had developed a tiny crush on Matt. That didn’t change though. You were still in love with him to this day.

Matt and his brothers started a YouTube career, and you found a job in a bakery that also sold all kinds of flowers. Because of that, you always had a few bouquets standing around and outside your home, the color and type of flower changing depending on the season and vibe you wanted to go for.

For the past week you had white heliotrope.

You placed your phone and keys on your kitchen counter, slipping out of your coat and shoes after having been out in the chilly weather all day.

A small vibration came from your phone, the screen lighting up. It was a message from Matt.

‘Can I come over tomorrow?’ it read. Matt always wanted to be around you, specifically in your house. He almost loved it more than you did. You quickly picked up the phone, positioning yourself on the kitchen counter to answer him immediately with a

‘Yes, of course :) We can watch that movie you were talking about if you want’.

‘Yeah, I’d love that. See you tomorrow then!’

You smiled to yourself, turning off your phone as you got down from the counter.

The small house you lived in was quite cozy. There wasn’t much electrical light, most of it being from either the fireplace or the candles you had propped up everywhere, or a lamp that had the same orange light as the candles. You paced around, lighting each and every candle that was in the kitchen and living room, creating a soft orange-like light. On top of that, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple made it even better. It wasn’t too artificial of a smell, not making people literally gag when they walked in. Matt seemed to like it a lot.

The next morning you woke up to the sunlight through your gingham curtain. Your friends found the curtains absolutely horrible, but you liked the vibe of the red and white. It just suited the rest of your interior.

Your phone had a message from Matt, asking if it was okay to come over around 8, since he was filming a video with his brothers. You replied with a ‘Yes, that’s perfect’, making your way downstairs to make breakfast.

At around 7.30pm you still had no idea what to put on. Not that it mattered, Matt had seen you in all sorts of situations, but it was something you relied a lot on.

You settled on something cozy but casual, knowing you were gonna watch a movie, so jeans would probably get uncomfortable. The makeup you had put on a few hours ago needed a touch up, as well as your hair.

That took you just the right amount of time, because right as you went downstairs to light the candles, there was a knock on the door. You rushed up to it, looking at your hair in the mirror before opening the door, revealing Matt.

“Hi, Matt! Come on in!” you smiled, opening the door further for him to get inside. You could swear he was lingering his gaze just a little too long on you, but you were pulled out of your thoughts when Matt leaned in to hug you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come over, you know how much I love your place,” he smiled, letting you go as he took off his jacket. You just smiled back in return, making your way to the kitchen.

“So uh- Do you want to bake some cookies before starting the movie?” you smiled shyly, holding up a bowl in front of you.

His face lit up, and you took that as a yes.

After way too long, the cookies were finally done. With that being said, it took you a few throws of flour, way too many jokes, a shit ton of chocolate chips eaten from the bag, and a bunch of laughter.

“Oh my god, they look fucking delicious,” you smiled, pressing your nose up against the oven to get a look on the cookies.

“Really? Let me see, move,” he giggled, pushing you gently to the side with his hands on each side of your waist. Your face turned beet red, avoiding looking him up in the eyes, only erupting a quiet chuckle.

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I think we did an amazing job,” he raised his brows, letting one hand go of you to reach out for a high-five.

“Wait, was it this one? Friday the 13th, the 2009 one?” you asked, scrolling through the insane amount of horror movies on Netflix. Matt nodded with a hum, his mouth too filled with cookies to answer you verbally. You pressed start, leaning back against the headboard of your bed. Matt wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer under the stupid amount of blankets, making you smile to yourself.

The window to your room was open, letting a view of a beautiful, now orange, tree standing in your backyard show. Matt had helped you light a few candles, the usual cinnamon-apple ones. Your normally neat bed was now completely messy, a duvet, blankets, and pillows resting everywhere.

Matt’s heart was practically beating out of his chest. He, too, had always had the biggest, fattest crush on you. Even holding you this close made his head spin. You were caught up with the start of the movie, but Matt sure as hell wasn’t. Even though he seemed relaxed enough to you, he was tense, trying to think of anything else but you, but it seemed far from possible to him. He needed to do something.

About 40 minutes into the movie, he turned body to you.

“Hey- uh. Can I just tell you something really quick?” he stuttered, positioning his body so he was facing you. You nodded, taking the cup of tea from your lips to place it on your nightstand.

“Sure, what’s up?” you smiled back at him, letting your eyes wander from his hair to his eyes, now rosy cheeks and lips, taking in all his features.

“It’s just- I’m sorry if this is sudden I just-” he stopped, sighing as he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“I really like you. Not just as a friend, I really really want to take you out. Fuck, you know, I like you like you,” he giggled, the words were flying out of his words. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted from the sudden confession.

“I’m in love with you, and I just wanted to let you know.” he finally stopped speaking, allowing you to speak as well.

“You have got to be kidding me. Oh my God, I-” you started laughing. Matt was slightly confused.

“What? Sorry, did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, it’s totally fine if you don’t like me back, I just thought-” you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. Quickly, you pulled back to watch his reaction.

You simply couldn’t stop yourself from giggling nervously, cheeks turning completely red. He didn’t say anything, he just simply stared in disbelief.

“Why did you stop?” he whispered, his eyes lingering on your lips. His hands found his way to the back of your neck, lacing his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry, I don’t know. It just seemed surreal for a second,” you laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. With that, he pulled you closer by your neck, sealing his lips with yours once again. This time, he was not ready to pull back anytime soon.

His hands roamed around the back of your head, holding your head as close as possible. He had been waiting for you for years. Your hands were on him as well. One cupping his cheek, the other resting on his shoulder. It took you a minute to pull back, simply craving air.

You looked up at him, a goofy smile appearing on both your faces while you both panted.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve stopped myself from doing that,” Matt admitted, keeping your hands on each other.

“Me too. I think I figured out I liked you during an English class. I literally sprinted home to write all my overthinking down in my diary,” you giggled, leaning closer into him to hug him.

He immediately melted into your touch, resting his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. The one he never got tired of.

“Can you kiss me again? I’m not wasting one minute after waiting for this long,” he chuckled, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Matt, you don’t have to ask, just do it,” you laughed at his adorable question, but you gave in anyway, leaning up once more to kiss him from his cheek to finally seal the distance between your lips again.

And that’s basically how the night went. Movie still playing in the background, nearing the end, Matt leaning over you, leaving kisses on the sides of your face, forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, collarbone, any place imaginable. The candles were about to burn out, your cup of tea getting cold from not being drinked in the past 30 minutes.

To no one's surprise, he ended up staying over for the rest of the night.

a/n: stop why am i literally craving fall right now. wheres the rest of the "i hate summer" people at.

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn let me know if you'd like to be added!

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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notsosweetchan · 2 months

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˚ʚ♡ɞ Making The Boy Mine ˚ʚ♡ɞ

Warning: Smut

Paring: | Hyunjin x Reader |

They were both aware that what they were doing was wrong. Hyunjin was already seeing someone, but their relationship wasn't serious. As for Y/N, she wasn't involved with anyone at the moment. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as Hyunjin's tongue danced against hers, her heart racing.

This was wrong, but she couldn't help herself; the desire between them was too strong. His hands roamed down her back, gently tracing the contours of her spine before cupping her ass and pulling her body closer to his.

She moaned into the kiss, feeling his hardness pressing against her stomach. He broke away from their kiss, his forehead leaning against hers as they caught their breath.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, voice rough and low.” It’s not fair to her, but I can't stop thinking about you."

Y/N looked into his dark chocolate-brown eyes, her own reflecting the same turmoil. "I know," she whispered. "But I can't stop either."

Without another word, they both surrendered to their desires as Hyunjin scooped her up, carrying her over to the couch. He laid her down gently, their lips crashing together once more as he began to unbutton her blouse.

Her hands were just as frantic, tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against hers. As they rid themselves of their clothes, they exchanged heated glances, the air between them thick with lust and anticipation. Hyunjin's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake as his fingers moved to unclasp her bra.

He teased her breasts, flicking his tongue around her hardened nipples, eliciting moans from the depths of Y/N's throat she didn't know she was capable of making. His touches were slow and feather-like but firm enough to drive her wild. She arched her back, craving more of his touch.

"Hyun-ah," she moaned, running her fingers through his soft black hair.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Tell me you want this, Y/N," he said, his voice a husky whisper in her ear.Tell me you're sure."

"I'm sure," she breathed, her voice shaking slightly. "I want this. I want you."

That was all the encouragement he needed as he descended between her thighs, his tongue dancing over her already sensitive clit. Y/N arched her back further, her nails digging into the couch cushions as pleasure coursed through her body.

Hyunjin knew just how to touch her, making every nerve ending in her body sing with ecstasy. He curled his fingers inside her, his tongue and fingers working in sync to bring her pleasure she had only ever dreamt of.

"God,Hyunjin," she moaned, her toes curling. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to her pleas, however; in fact, he seemed to take it as a challenge to tease her even more. He slowed down his motions, sending her over the edge of insanity. "Hyunjin, please!" she whimpered, begging for release.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at her with a mischievous grin. "Not yet," he said, leaving a trail of kisses up her stomach before positioning himself between her legs.

Y/N whimpered in frustration but soon forgot everything else as he entered her slowly, filling her completely.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his eyes locked on hers as he began to move inside her, picking up speed with each thrust.

Y/N's nails dug into his back as he angled his hips to hit that spot deep inside that made her see stars. So lost in the pleasurer they didn’t hear his phone ring , vibrating on the coffee table. The sound of voice message started to play “ Hey Hyunjin I know it’s late but I was wondering if you wanted to go on date tomorrow night.”

Either of them didn’t even notice the voice continuing “I know it’s short notice but I really want to see you again and I thought maybe we could try that new sushi place you were telling me about...”

This spurred Hyunjin on even more, his thrusts becoming more urgent as he picked up the pace. Y/N's moans drowned out the rest of the message, her entire world narrowing down to him and the way he felt inside her.

Hyunjin thrust into her, his hips pistoning as he took her breath away with each powerful stroke. They were both lost in the heat of the moment, their shared secret desire consuming them both. Y/N's hair tickled his chest as her head tilted back, eyes closed tightly as she arched her back to meet his movements.

He bit his lips to stifle a moan as he felt her tight heat squeeze around him, loving the way she felt underneath him. Her warmth enveloped him, drawing him even further into this forbidden encounter.

His hand found hers on the couch and laced their fingers together, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. Their skin was slick with sweat from the passionate movement, bodies moving in perfect unison despite the guilt that still lingered between them.

He leaned down again to capture her lips in a fiery kiss, his tongue invading her mouth as they wrestled together in a heated dance. The taste of each other filled his senses, and he could feel her wet heat against his shaft as she lifted her hips to meet him once more.

She could hear the sound of their ragged breathing mixing together, the smell of their sweat and arousal filling the room.

It only fueled their desire for each other, making it hard for either of them to think about stopping or pulling away. They were lost in this haze of lust and longing, pushing aside any thoughts of what could or should happen next.

As they moved together faster and faster, Y/N wrapped her legs around Hyunjin's waist, pulling him deeper into her core. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she tried to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible – it was addictive and consuming all at once.

Hyunjin's hand found its way between her legs, his thumb brushing against her clit as he continued to thrust inside her. The pressure was building within her core, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer.

"Hyunjin," she moaned, her voice unrecognizable even to her own ears. "I...I can't...oh, god..."

That was all it took for Hyunjin to pick up the pace even more, his hips slamming into hers with a renewed fervor. He couldn't help but moan into her neck as he felt himself getting closer too, his entire body tense with the effort of holding back.

"Cum with me," he panted against her ear before they both gave in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Y/N's world exploded around her as she climaxed, her body tensing up and arching off the couch. Hyunjin followed closely behind, gripping her hips tightly as he came inside her.

They lay there, panting for air, their chests heaving in unison as they tried to catch their breath.

Finally, Hyunjin pulled away, collapsing beside her on the couch.

They both lay there, trying to regain any semblance of composure. It was only then Y/N spoke up “ Are you going to call her back?” she asked softly not looking at him.

Hyunjin placed a hand on her thigh, guiding her to look at him “No, I’m to addicted to you and I don’t think I could ever want anyone else but you” he said stroking her cheek gently.

Y/N's heart raced in her chest as she met his eyes. She knew that this boy was hers.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagine #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz smut #hyunjin imagines #skz hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin skz

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lebrookestore · 4 months

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backburner | n.jm (teaser)

Pairing: Na Jaemin x reader

Themes: college! au, exes! au, the situationship vibes are STRONG, angst, fluff, exes to ???, reader is a serial overthinker.

Warnings: profanity, heavy ANGST, kissing, food, underage alcohol consumption and alcohol consumption in general, jaemin is lowkey an asshole, more to be added for the full fic.

Word count for teaser: 580 | Estimated word count: 12-15k

Summary: After three months of ignoring your presence entirely, Na Jaemin saunters right back into your life without so much as single warning, leaving you to once again pick up the pieces of your burning heart.

Notes from brooke: a late christmas present from me<3 i'm back to writing my college aus so i hope all of you will enjoy my pain (literally).

[send an ask to be added to the taglist!]

It was one in the morning when your phone rang.

A sigh left your chapped lips as you glanced down from the screen of your laptop to the device sitting by its side, your eyes burning at the too bright light emitting from your phone. The rest of your dorm was dark, having switched the lights off earlier at the request of your roommate, who had an early class the next day.

Unfortunately for you, you had an assignment due the next day that you had, as usual, left for the last minute. Music played through your headphones as you tried to construct what you deemed a coherent enough essay to submit.

Scrambling so you wouldn’t wake your roommate up, you pushed your headphones off and swiped the call icon across the screen of your phone, accepting it a second before you registered who the caller was. The contact glared at you as if it was mocking you for your carelessness and hastiness, causing you to bite down hard on the inside of your cheek.

Well. It was too late now.

Swallowing hard, you held your phone up to your ear and whispered. “Hello?”

“Hey.”

A breath you didn’t know you had been holding in escaped from your lips, having you shut your eyes and process his voice. It was funny, how just one inconsequential word from a single person could change your entire disposition.

“Jaemin? Are you okay?”

He hummed in response. “Yeah, I’m fine. I think I might be a little tipsy though.”

You could just imagine him right then, a glass being gripped loosely by his fingers, leaning against some wall as he spoke to you over the phone. The image was enough that you slipped out of your bed and pacing about your room as quietly as you could, restless.

“Oh. Um, don’t drink too much.”

He chuckled, a sound so familiar yet so distant to you. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

Jaemin liked alcohol, you knew this much. He liked the way it would slowly hit his head and render him more easy going than he already was, causing that pretty smile of his to show more liberally. You were well versed with everything about him, from his walk to the way his eyes would express everything he was thinking, the slightly changes making themselves completely obvious for you,

The two of you had been so in tune with each other. Sometimes, you forgot how easy that made it for it all to fall apart.

“Okay.” You weren’t really sure where you were supposed to go with this conversation anymore. “Do you need something?”

“Not really.”

“Then….then why did you call me?” Bewilderment crept into your voice as clear as day. If you were in front of him right then, perhaps he would have teased you, tucking your hair behind your ear and muttering something about how cute you were.

He stayed silent for a moment. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped your pacing, coming to a standstill as his words settled over you. In the silence of the night, you were almost too aware of the way your heart rate increased ever so slightly.

Yunjin was right. There was hardly ever a time where your best friend’s advice wasn’t spot on, but this time you found yourself wishing you had complied and actually blocked him like she had suggested you do. Maybe then you wouldn’t have found yourself in such a position.

coming soon. | lebrookestore 2024

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fyorina · 4 days

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ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.”

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.

But is this really any better?

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are.

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick.

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.

“May I have this dance?”

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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nobodyfamousposts · 6 months

Text

Scarlet Lady Essay: Frightningale

Yet another essay for @zoe-oneesama. Because you deserve it.

I’m not going to bother with a compare/contrast of canon vs Scarlet Lady Frightningale because Frightningale in canon was a pretty forgettable episode. Akuma was lame. Setup was wasted. And it’s removal from the series would lose nothing of value.

So instead, I'm going to focus primarily on the Scarlet Lady version of Frightningale and what it does that makes it memorable.

I guess to start with, I should make it clear that I’m not a fan of shows being lazy, especially when they display a lack of planning or consideration of their story and characters. And perhaps one of the greater indicators of this issue is when a series suddenly realizes they they neglected multiple plot points until it’s too late to give them all the focus they warrant so they end up shoving all of those points into one episode and try to present it like it’s supposed to be an adequate resolution of all that buildup or in any way intentional.

Penalteam was that episode for Miraculous. They had the “temporary heroes” setup going for them but then wasted so much time on filler like Frightningale that it seems like they honestly forgot about it until they were reaching a designated end point and they realized they still had four more heroes they were supposed to introduce. Whoops? Ah well, just introduce them all at once. Not like anyone will care!

And when you treat most of the cast like they’re all as shallow as a puddle, I guess that’s true.

The thing is, when you have a setup where there is a running theme of every person in a specific group getting their own episode/chapter to detail their issues and how they get a power up, it’s going to stand out whenever one of them doesn’t. Especially when that one or more are forced to share their limelight episode.

That’s not to say you can’t do it, but it’s bound to get attention if you do. It reflects poorly on the writing. It shows whom the “favored” and “unfavored” characters are. And it displays the issue with pacing—namely that it’s next to nonexistent until it hits you with the force of a freight train.

But can it be done and be done well? Is it possible to pull off such a thing and have it make sense and fit in lines with the characters?

Well, yes. Off the top of my head, I can think of two different ways to do it to make it work.

And Zoe did both of them.

If you look at Scarlet Lady as a whole, you’ll see a conglomeration of characters—each with stories and arcs attached. They have personalities. They have goals and problems and their own highs and lows. One sign of good writing is that some focus is given to highlight these other characters as people. Individuals in their own right with lives outside of the main characters or situation.

Miraculous doesn't really do this.

Scarlet Lady, however, does. Because contrary to the title, Scarlet Lady isn’t just about Chloe.

It isn’t even just about the heroes.

It isn’t just about Chloe being horrible. Or Marinette being in love. Or Adrien being in desperate need of a hug and a nap. Because while the story is centered around them, it isn’t solely about them. Other characters get focus and growth and their own arcs throughout the comics.

But the big two—the BIGGEST two with arguably the most depth and most growth and quite frankly the best storylines out of everyone in the entire series?

It’s Sabrina and Lila. And their individual stories have led up to this.

As such, this episode—which was mostly filler and all around forgettable in canon, matters here.

It’s where Sabrina and Lila reach the culmination of their respective character arcs.

Yes, it’s when they both get to become Miraculous Heroes and meet their own kwamis, but it’s more than just that! They both hang out with the girls group as full members of the crew, getting to take part in a music video together. It’s also where they both get to stand up for themselves and the city at large while calling out Chloe and Scarlet Lady. This is what their storylines have been building up to and where their growth really shows.

Sabrina started out as Chloe’s minion same as canon—albeit with more attention to her feelings and her responses, no matter how seemingly small, allowing her to feel more like her own person. And through this focus, we got to see her open up more, pull and eventually break away from Chloe and her influence, and over time stand up for herself and try to establish herself both with the class and as an individual.

Lila started off as a liar and manipulator, selfish and self centered, much like canon. Unlike canon, her lies are tied to her issues, noted to be poorly thought through, and give her more introspection as a person. After the lies are revealed, she’s not “redeemed” so much as she is “accountable”, and it doesn’t change who she is. She remains selfish and certainly far from being considered “good”, but she’s letting people in past her walls and masks in a way she hadn’t been able to before.

Both of these things? Figuring out who you are and letting people know you for who you are? They’re incredibly hard. And a lot of time was devoted to both of their journeys along the course of the comic.

Sabrina’s arc was about her figuring out who she is on her own. Outside of Chloe and her previous role of being a follower and lackey. And sometimes it feels less scary to stay with someone toxic than to be alone and facing the unknown. We see it in the way she tries to put herself out there afterwards, reaching out and risking rejection and just figuring herself out. Even or perhaps especially with those she already knows and has a less than positive history with.

And we still see the struggle of her view of herself in this episode. It was in the way she was upset that she legitimately tried to help and it still resulted in bad things happening. And it was also clear when she calls herself a “sidekick” to Marigold after the day was saved, as if it’s a role she still sees herself as and one she struggles not to fall in to. Over time, we’re seeing Sabrina learning that she doesn’t have to be attached or subservient to someone else to have an identity or be accepted.

Lila’s arc involved her figuring out who she is with people. Outside of the lies and manipulations she creates, the masks she wears, and the identities she crafts to make people like her. The “real Lila” is far from the best person and arguably not even a good person, but she also doesn’t have to be for the others to accept her as the still somewhat bad influence she is. She’s still very much selfish and flawed, but she’s less inclined to hide it or treat it like something that needs to be hidden. And isn’t that a common lesson? That it’s better to be liked for who you are than to force yourself to be someone else to be liked?

And at the same time, even with being less than a fully good person, she’s showing that she can still find better ways of acting that allow her to help others rather than hurt them or serve herself. She still hates Scar, but rather than working with Hawk Moth to kill her and risk dooming Paris and the world, she’s instead working with Alya through more legitimate (and legal) means…and hitting Scar where it hurts most. She and Adrien may not be friends, but rather than try to punish him for not going along with her, she’s instead rescued him, putting herself on the line—something that the former Lila wouldn’t have considered doing and one that canon Lila wouldn’t be capable of. Even if she’s motivated by pettiness or self-interest, what would have been straight up revenge on someone who upset her has grown to be something that is working in everyone’s better interests.

Both Lila and Sabrina hid themselves in different ways and for different reasons. So having them both assert themselves and call out both Chloe and Scarlet Lady is a show of their growth and overall a huge deal. It’s not something either of them would have done at the start of the series. Sabrina, because she was a “yes man” who wouldn’t dare to argue with Chloe and Lila because she wouldn’t risk openly doing something to make herself a target.

And now boom! Look at them both! Lila stepped up to openly and publicly denounce Scarlet Lady as not being a hero for real reasons that aren’t just about herself or her feelings—complete with receipts! The girl did her research, noting incidents from before she even came into the picture. Then follow up with Sabrina standing up against Chloe’s machinations and dismantling Chloe’s main source of power: her father. Even better, she’s using logic and knowledge she would have as a former ally of Chloe’s who would know her tricks, taking her former friendship with Chloe and using it against her.

And on top of that, each of them are given the Miraculous by the person they wronged in the past. Marinette to Sabrina and Adrien to Lila. Especially in Lila’s case, it says a lot that they’re trusted. That shows narratively that even with their mistakes and bad choices and continued struggles, they still can move forward—not necessarily to find redemption, but to find themselves and be their best selves.

This is why it makes sense for them to share this episode. It’s also why both of them speaking up matters. They are both publicly confronting their greatest foe, and the fact that their foes are really two faces of the same person further highlights this.

So they both have issues with the same person, are dealing with forming their identities without catering to others, are working out how to have/be friends, were formerly not the best of people, and have a fear of rejection. As such, this isn’t just their obligatory hero episode, this is what their individual stories have been leading up to. Almost like they’re two sides of the same coin. And the comparison between the two helps them both shine.

And speaking of shining, does anyone remember how the all girls team up didn’t get a chance to shine in canon? Zoe sure did.

I have a whole list of problems I have regarding Party Crasher, but perhaps number seven on that list is that the boys got to have an all male temp hero team up episode while the girls didn’t.

In fact, by this episode in canon, only Alya, Chloe, and Kagami actually got to be temp heroes.

To be fair, only four of the guys out of seven in canon got to be part of their particular event in Party Crasher, leaving out Ivan (who often tends to get overlooked) and Nathaniel (who has had a precedent of just literally disappearing from the episode). But originally, part of the appeal of Party Crasher was that the focus was supposed to be on the male classmates and getting to see at least some of them being part of a team against the akuma.

Why then didn’t we get an episode like this with the girls? Or at least something LIKE this?

Frightningale became that episode. And if any of the episodes were to do it, it makes the most sense for Frightningale to be the one.

All of the girls were together to take part in this event. So Zag would have had the perfect excuse to include them all in the fight or just have the girls do something to help even as civilians. I mean, we’ve had episodes do this before. Max in Robustus. Nathaniel and Alix in Reverser. Luka in Captain Hardrock. Let the civilians show their heroic traits even before they become heroes. It’s not a Miraculous, but it’s still giving them focus and expanding on them as individuals.

Instead, canon Frightningale was a filler episode. And not even a good one. For an akuma who forces people to sing or dance, it’s a waste that they just had the heroes spend the whole time rhyming. A waste of writing and talent. I mean, have you heard Christina Vee sing? If there needed to be a musical episode, I would think that the akuma who forces people to sing would certainly warrant it! At least more than it’s Christmas and they sing just cuz.

So this is yet another thing that Zoe improves with the Scarlet Lady version of this episode. Giving us the all girl team up episode so many of us have long wanted and getting to see all the female heroes together at last.

And with this, we get the full roster of friends-turned heroes.

Except for Alix. Poor, poor Alix. ;_;

Your day will come.

In this way, the end where Clara goes a different direction with her music video feels less like a half-assed fix to a half-forgotten plot point and more like something that was built by everyone involved. I don’t know about the rest of you, but given Clara’s excitement over the all girl band playing and Pigella’s gift showing Clara an idea for her video, it highlights the focus on EVERYONE being part of this—both the video and the episode itself. It kind of comes off as a lesson of its own about teamwork and giving everyone a shot rather than focusing specifically only on one or two specific individuals.

And isn’t that what separates the heroes from Scarlet Lady?

But there’s a third important aspect of this episode.

This is the episode where Chloe is smacked in the face with Scarlet Lady’s falling popularity.

Let’s remember that at the start of the comic, Scarlet Lady was fully and widely considered THE Hero of Paris. She was beloved for doing nothing and it was a point of frustration for Chat, who actually was having to pick up her slack. Initially, there was nothing he could do because him being the only real hero among the duo meant he often couldn't stick around after akuma fights to prevent Scar from telling "our story". In addition, he didn’t know who she was or who chose her and why. Then even when it was clear her getting the Earrings was a mistake, for a lot of the first couple seasons, she was so popular that they couldn’t just take the Earrings away from her lest they risk backlash from the rest of the city. It’s a backlash that seems increasingly unlikely as more and more people get to see her behavior and callousness firsthand.

We’ve seen hints of it in other episodes, but none of them were so blatant to Chloe that she couldn’t ignore it or shrug it off or otherwise make excuses to protect her ego.

Prime Queen wanted to focus on Marigold and Chat Noir for their “romance” to try and boost ratings. Alya and Lila made some snarky comments, but Chloe could easily dismiss them both. Nadja also made a comment that nobody cared about Scarlet’s love life, but a lack of interest in her love life isn’t a lack of interest in herself and Chloe despises both of her “sidekicks” and wouldn’t want anyone trying to pair her with them anyway. And Nadja reassures her that they’ll focus on her after they’re done with Chat and Marigold. So yes, she can dismiss that as well.

Reverser has Chloe faced with both of her identities are made as villains in art and a story. However, she clearly looks down on Nathaniel and Marc barely registers to her. So she can dismiss them.

Look at Despair Bear, the Intermission, the interactions with the various other heroes, and the fact that only Chat Noir and Marigold are privy to the Guardian’s secret existence and allowed to pass out other Miraculous. Much has been shown of the other characters being less than impressed with her, snarky towards her, or showing the process of how they discover the truth about her and how she actually handles akuma attacks…namely in that she doesn’t. And Chloe can dismiss all of that because to her, none of them really matter to her.

But Chloe can’t dismiss the fact that a renown celebrity dedicating a music video to the “Heroes of Paris” isn’t including her. Bad enough her sidekicks are taking center stage but she’s not even in the music video at all?

And when someone she despises calls out the reasons why she’s not a hero in an openly public setting surrounded by a multitude of people who all agree with her? You could say it’s insult to injury. But some would say it was a long time coming.

Some Rando: Scarlet Lady sucks! Alya: Marigold and Chat Noir do all the work, not her! Kagami: She’s barely even necessary at this point. Clara: This video and song are to celebrate hope and love. And Scarlet Lady lacks both when push comes to shove. Chloe: ARGHHH! WHATEVER!

It further shows the turning tide of public opinion against Scar. What was once a trickle has grown into a wave, and now Chloe is forced to acknowledge her image and status aren’t as ironclad as she thought. Sure, she could denounce Lila as a liar like she’s done before, but Lila is bringing up instances that Chloe can’t deny: being late (as she’s just plain been a no show to several fights), endangering civilians, and being caught live on camera being willing to let someone die in a particularly horrible way because it’s easier.

This is the episode where it’s not just people seeing Scar is horrible, but acting on it and letting Chloe know they know she’s horrible. It’s reached the point where Chloe can’t just disregard the claims or discount and ignore her critics. And we’re seeing Chloe starting to lose control as a result. To the point she has to force her dad to ruin a previously sanctioned event in what has to be one of his most flagrant displays of abuse of power to date just to shut down her detractors.

And even that would come with more consequences for Chloe if it had been allowed to continue. Sabrina herself points it out that Clara is very popular with a lot of fans—people who would be aware she’s making a music video and whom would be very disappointed if word got out that it was cancelled due to an issue with the Mayor. And given all the very unhappy people we see in the comic in question where she points that out, it stands to reason that the word would get out. Heck, I’d be surprised if someone wasn’t recording it.

Then there’s the love square/hero shenanigans.

Remember how in canon, the whole “playing themselves/risking identities” bit kinda just dropped out halfway in? The kwamis were the only authority figures involved to call out on the risk and of the two, Plagg didn’t care and Tikki gave one knowing stare at Marinette before turning around to gush about the suit. Even though Marinette offers the alternative idea to the music video by the end, there’s no further comment or notice of how she and Adrien nearly blew their identities….or alternatively a comedic take where nobody recognizes them regardless and they worried for nothing. Honestly, I would have taken either setup.

Having Fu present to call them both out shows there is a responsible authority figure watching, makes it clear there are rules they are expected to follow, and reinforces that this was, in fact, a horrible idea. Sure, Marinette and Adrien worried enough to hide their masks, but it should have been obvious that wouldn’t work long term. They are risking their identities, not just to Paris but to each other. And he calls them out for doing it on purpose.

Then there’s the beautiful crescendo of the love square dance in that the two both pretty much have figured out the other’s identity and just want an identity reveal to make it official—which Fu won’t allow. We see it in their playful banter that gets mistaken for “getting into character” and in Adrien in particular pushing Marinette to take part.

This is a point where we are seeing them be teenagers. Foolish of them? Yes. Should they have known better and not done it? Yes. But is it in character and the sort of teenage shenanigans we would expect of teenage superheroes? Definitely. And that’s part of the point. Because they are teenagers. Teenagers in love, no less. Teenagers in love with secret identities to dance around. Which is half the fun of secret identities!

It’s just another aspect to this episode that makes it enjoyable.

So overall, the episode matters in ways that the canon version didn’t and was fun in ways that the canon version wasn’t, making it stand out not just as an episode or a remake of the canon episode, but as its own standalone episode AND a noteworthy point in the overall story.

#scarlet lady au #scarlet lady essay #scarlet lady is better than canon #for zoe

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heartfullofleeches · 7 months

Note

Oh god PLEASE do a short with creep reader giving horrible torture ideas to Host while the contestants look on in horror.

(sorta forgot the short in your ask, but I hope you enjoy)

You are in an office.

The wall directly to your south is missing, but you can't see that far behind you - and so it is still there. A man sits cross from you at the other end of the table. You sense the presence of others in chairs beside you, but trying to make out distinct features from their grainy silhouettes only worsened the dull throbbing in the back of your skull. The amount of attention should bother you, but the significance of that man and yourself overshadowed them like the phantoms they were. Besides you, he's the most important in the room. He's your boss afterall.

Bathed in grey from his suit to his slicked back hair to even his skin, the man nurses an equally monochrome mug branded with the cheeky title of "A Show Host." The only bout of color on him was his tie which was curiously the exact shade and hue as your favorite color, and the book he held in his free hand. A quaint little journal with its lock popped and the key still in your pocket. Your brain screams to steal it back, but same as you can't look anywhere except ahead your body has lost all control of the rest of its motor functions.

The man barks a chuckle at the twisted thoughts you've put to paper. He removes his tie and tucks it smoothly between the pages of your journal, folding his hands neatly on the table as he closes it shut. His excessively wide grin peaks further as your eyes meet where his should be.

"Before we begin our meeting I must say what an honor it is to have such a clever mind in our little studio. Been a big fan of your work for quite some time and I think it's time to put some of your works to action."

The man tilts his sightless gaze towards the table. There are three folders where blank space once preoccupied. You gain control of your limbs as your fingers wiggle in the direction of the one closest to you.

"Those folders contain everything you need to know about the lovely contestants joining us today. Hopes, fears, ambitions, regrets- All you need and more to cook up some delicious punishment for our losers. Anything and I do mean anything is on the table. Give us your deepest, darkest fantasies and we will be more than glad to make them reality. The ball's in your court, and the pen is in your hand."

You open the first folder - gripping the pen in your sweaty palm as you read. As told, the folder is chalk full of notes on some guy just a couple years your senior. Someone's entire life held within rubber bands and pages. You sit in silence for a while. Circling some pieces, crossing out others. The Host watches intently from his end of the table feeling the swell of pride and admiration towards your dedication in whatever part of him resembled a human heart. You set down your tool and gather your notes as you begin your speech.

"Contestant A has severe claustrophobia resulting from locked in a closet by siblings as a child and forgotten for several hours. They also have fears of the dark and needles which are mostly unrelated on the surface. A potential punishment is to lock them in a room with just enough space to move. The walls are covered in spikes, slowly closing on them as time passes. The walls move at different paces so they believe it's safer elsewhere when in reality there's nowhere for them to go."

Silence. The silhouettes turn face each other, muttering amongst themselves with words you can't quite make out before facing Host sitting patiently this whole time. One by one, the silhouettes rise - striking their palms together in a chorus of applause which reaches its peak as one final member joins the frey. Host wipes a fake tear of his cheek. It almost feels...pleasant to receive positive attention for once.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Childhood trauma, the hopeless hope or escape. I knew there was nothing short of genius in you. Keep going."

Host returns to his chair, resting his chin on the ball of his palm as you reach for another folder. Your hand naturally falls on the next one in order, but upon picking it up the letter on its cover is C. Host picks up his cup and holds to his lips as you look up at him. Skimming through the pages a strange feeling settles in your stomach. The same that plagued when writing nearly every entry in your book. You set the folder down and pick up the third. Then the first. It all clicks.

"Contestant C.... Contestant C is someone who tried to make my life a living hell in the past. In spite of this, with your permission I'd like to make them an offer. The other contestants are close friends of theirs. Life long even. Contestant C is now both an star athlete and plays guitar on weekend. They are also selfish and care for no one but themselves. I would like to give them the opportunity to free themselves and their friends in exchange for their dominant arm. If they refuse they are free to leave, following immediate punishment, torture and killing of their allies they must sit through."

Host stares at you - least you assume so given his lack of eyes, for quite some time. So long whatever he was drinking had to be cold by now. His cup turns out to be empty as it rolls across the floor. Thand resting on his chin covers his entire face as he folds, head bouncing off the wooden as his body twitches and jerks with every giggle he stifles. His attempts are in vain as his laughter echoes through the shadows around you, and the unseen crowd behind you. They convulse in ways unnatural foe the human forms they mimic. The sound reverberates from every corner, drowning your thoughts. You pick up the mug at your feet, reading its message for a second of clarity.

"Reality's Greatest Co-Host."

Host gradually regains his composure. He cards a hand through his hair and fixes his collar as he lifts himself off the table. He shutters returning to focus to you having never known more love or appreciation for the human mind than what consumes him now.

"I... could honestly kiss you right now. Forgive me for my brashness, but you have proven yourself a second time as the perfect member of our team. I'd kill to have a look at your brain, but I much prefer it in that pretty head of yours. I simply can't wait to see what you have in store for future guests, but for now let's focus on the ones we have now. We've kept them waiting long enough..

Blinking once, Host stands over you, holding out his hand as bright light blinds your vision. You're no longer facing the table and now in view of the stage hidden behind that wall that never existed. Three people stand behind podiums, each expressing terror, dread, anger or a perfect mixture of the three. Your lips pull into a smile as you take Host's hand and step out onto the stage. The crowd's cheers pitch higher seeing their favorite hosts hand in hand. A whisper soft as a lover's embrace meets your ear as his lips meet your temple.

"In the impossible chance they agree, you don't plan on letting any of them go - do you?"

He knows you so well.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere insert #male yandere #Host my oc #yandere drabble #yandere god #tw yandere

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kurorama · 1 year

Text

When The Time Comes ( II. )

⇀ ( I. ) ( III. )

Sully family x Sully!reader, oc x Sully!reader

IN WHICH the humans come for your father’s neck again, as you and your family fight alongside him. When the sky people come back to destroy Pandora again, will you be able to save your family and potential lover?

Warnings: Angst, desc of war, fighting & blood, CRINGE

WC: 7.5k

A/N : I forgot that they lived in the high camp…. so the start makes no sense but do we really care.

⇀

Upon entering the village, you were met with the sight of your anxiously pacing father. Your fingers were still intertwined with Mo’rata’s as the both of you came to a halt. Your mother’s piercing eyes glared at your hands, nodding her head at the man in a subtle threat.

Normally you would’ve been laughing either at her behaviour or at the boy for being a victim of her menace. Though you were mature enough to realise that now was not the time. You wouldn’t admit it to no one, but you were almost just as scared as concerned. The lights that you had spotted soaring through the sky earlier most definitely did not belong here.

Mo’rata began walking forward, dragging you alongside him as he approached your father. At the sight of your unmoving form, he knew that he had to do the first move.

You had seen something down there in the forest, something that he had not seen himself and you had to inform your father before it became a potential bigger threat. Jake approached you alongside Neytiri, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked like he was going to scold you for leaving the village without his permission once more.

“Sir, we have been warned in the forest that bad things are coming for us,” you informed your father, a similar look on your face as you spoke to him. Jake paused before you as he thought back at what Mo’at had told him a few moments prior. The Tsahik herself had told Jake that she had been receiving visions, warnings by Eywa herself. Now having you warn him too was like a green light to inaugurating a war.

Attacks from the sky people were not rare. In fact, they were so frequent and effortless to terminate that they did not even require that big of a warriors group. This time, there were way too many warnings to ignore. The clan always lived in an unspoken fear that another war like the first one would resurface. Destroying their new homes and families.

“Fine,” Jake said with closed eyes, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger to soothe his aching head. Neteyam and Lo’ak stood behind their father as they awaited his orders. It was no surprise to you when you looked up to see Lo’ak with an excited look on his face at the thought of finally fighting in the front lines. You rolled your eyes at your younger brother.

When Jake opened his eyes again, he was not only met with the sight of his two sons, but the whole clan awaiting their Olo’eyktan’s signal. He sighed as he knew that the first war was still a healing wound for many of the people. As a leader, he was forced to accept the damage and move on, think of a future for his clan and forget its past. Accepting was a part of moving on, denying was a step back.

“Ready yourself for battle! We all approach through our Ikrans tonight, go get ready, we depart in 20 minutes.” he yelled at the large body of na’vis. With a grin on your face, you watched as the people moved swiftly to ready themselves, exhibiting their loyalty to the clan. You pushed your way through the crowd as Mo’rata’s hand left yours, though this was too important for you to care at the moment.

Neytiri’s eyes met yours, and for a second she wanted to stop her children from joining in. Only now, she knew that she could not stop you guys. You had matured and grown from the cowardly little children that you once were and now it was time for you to step foot into the real world.

You moved towards your sisters, kneeling down before Tuk as you gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She giggled wildly before ‘Ew-ing’ at your slobbery kiss. Her laughter was short-lived as her face dropped, she knew that there was a chance that her family may never return. She had seen it with her own eyes when one of her friends, Vutey, had lost his father. He was a hunter and Eywa had concluded his fate during his latest hunt.

She remembers watching Vutey crying in the comfort of his mothers arms, who she was sobbing alongside her only child.

Nevertheless, she gave you one last tight hug before you moved to your other sister. Kiri smiled at you before dipping two of her fingers in the coconut bowl that she held in her left hand. Out came a colourful paste that would later adorn your face. You closed your eyes as Kiri began tracing patterns on your skin with the paste, which made you shudder at the weirdly cold feeling.

Soon enough, she had finished half of your face. She dipped her fingers back in the half empty bowl, bringing it back to your face to finish your warrior’s face paint. Though it was short-lived before a third party had ripped you away from your sister, urging you by the arm. Kiri couldn’t be less unbothered, rolling her eyes and moving on to the next person.

You however, were ready to glare daggers at whoever had come to disrupt you in your little moment. You were not ready for that person being Mo’rata however..

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, his nonexistent eyebrows creasing as he spoke. You raised yours at his odd question, feeling the tension grow because of his little attitude problem.

“Uhh I was getting ready? What are you doing, messing up my face paint and all…” you scoffed, murmuring-loudly the last part as a petty attempt for him to hear it. You tried to walk away from Mo’rata and whatever childish tantrum he was throwing right now, rubbing the messed up part of the paste on your face with your fingers. The tight grip that Mo’rata had on your arm however would not allow you to move any further.

“No way in hell are you going to fight, not like that..”

“Not like how? You’re not my fucking father Mo’rata. Get off my back.” You hissed at him, and perhaps - just perhaps, you shouldn’t have been so hostile. You didn’t blame yourself though because who the hell was he to tell you what to do and what not? His behaviour did its best to displease you and his grip refused to falter.

“You cannot even hold your bow properly!” He hissed back, gritting his teeth as you were really starting to infuriate him. He was just worried, he was deathly worried for you. Though he was way too much of a stoic man with a great pride to admit that to you. To admit that he cared about you, he cared more than he thought he could.

He didn’t want you to partake in this battle because he feared the thought of losing you. The past few months that you guys have hung out together has been the only time he’s ever been as happy as this, even though his face didn’t really show it.

“You’ll be useless on the battlefield! You dare to even call yourself a warrior but you cannot do a thing as simple as wield your weapon correctly,” he paused, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He hates the way that fierce look on your face falls, and he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“An excuse of a Sully that you call yourself, maybe you should sit back here and wonder why your father favours your ‘golden’ brother. Ever wonder why you don’t know how to aim, maybe you should ask you precious little dad, i’m sure he was having a blast teaching his favourite so-“ Mo’rata was cut off by an unforeseen shove from you. His spiteful words were hurting every inch deep of your body and you tried to conceal it by showing your anger towards him instead.

In the spite of that, he noticed the hurt that showed on your face before you reverted to a hostile expression. He could still see it on your face as you held him tightly by the base of his necklace, the same one you had crafted for him. He hated how the damage of his words was still so evident, practically radiating off of you. But that’s what he wanted after all right? to hurt you. To rupture through that pride of yours to get you to stay here, safe and sound.

Although he wished for it to push you away from the war, it only seemed to push you further away from him.

You glared at him for a second before shaking your head with a scoff, backing away a few steps before looking back at him. You knew how he viewed Neteyam, you knew how everyone viewed your brother. Neteyam was everything that you were not, responsible and obedient. Though you didn’t want to be like Neteyam, you never wanted to abide by the rules or whatnot.

When you had met Mo’rata, he was the only person that did not constantly remind you of how you were expected to be the golden child. How your name brought shame upon your family because of your misconduct. Though he would always tease you, it was nothing ever real until now.

“Well you know what, fuck you and what you think of me. I’ll show you that I'm a real warrior!” you flashed him the two of your middle fingers, and he huffed at you. He did not know of the real meaning behind these signs, but you had shown it to him before during a few of your banters. So he knew that they were somewhat scornful.

He quickly realises what you have said, his brain was in a buzz from everything that’s been happening recently. He attempts to reach for you as you leave, but he could only watch as you slipped away from his fingers and back into the chaotic crowd. His fiery expression sunk for a second as he was left with the crumbs of your last argument.

Once your ikran had left the ground, you had tried your best to rid your mind of any thoughts about Mo’rata. Being lost in your emotions right now would only distract you from your mission, and a lack of concentration on the battlefield was oftentimes lethal.

Your Ikran followed closely behind Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s, who were busy arguing about something you couldn’t care less about. As their older sister, you’ve always had the urge to protect them. You had a strong feeling like today was the day that you’d finally prove yourself worthy of being their older sibling.

Not that they didn’t believe you weren’t, it was quite the opposite.

It didn’t take much more than 5 minutes of flying for you guys to find the group of humans that were posing a threat to your clan. They were so close to the village, so close to the Hallelujah mountains. Your eyes widened at the sight of their technology. Huge killer machines that both resided on the ground and in the sky.

Huge metal junks that were brought here in the sole purpose of destroying and polluting your wonderland. The sound of a war cry had broken you off of your train of thoughts and all of the elders dived down to take action. You told your ikran to speed up as you overtook your brothers that were still arguing. They turned their head at the sound of a third pair of wings flapping beside them, but then shuddered at the ‘if you mess this up, i’ll kill the both of you’ kind of look that you gave them before diving down yourself.

Lo’ak broke into a cold sweat as he thought of the last time you had given him a good sibling’s beating for nearly harming Tuk as he took her out of the camp and out into the deep forest. You knew that your idiot brother was just like you, carefree, young and dumb at times. Though there were times where Lo’ak couldn’t tell the difference between a good time and an actual danger warning, so you and your father were here to remind him.

You wasted no time dismounting your ikran as its firm legs grazed the floor. You grabbed the spear that was attached to the ikran’s leather harness, throwing it through the back of a confused human’s skull with no hesitation. The communication collar that connected your father and brother to you buzzed before you heard the deep voice of your father. He informed the both of you that this was no fight against Quaritch, thankfully. You had heard too many stories about this menace of a man, stories from your great warriors of parents. Nevertheless, he broke the bad news to you, telling you that you were indeed fighting against one of Miles’ acquaintance’s team.

You allowed yourself to be distracted for a moment by the voice of your father, almost costing you your life as a sky demon aimed his weapon at you. A thanator abruptly came out from the bushes behind the man, catching the both of you off guard as it slammed its heavy body into the human and its considerable machine. You took this as an opportunity to run, grabbing the bow and arrows of a fallen soldier - just in case you would need it along the way.

As much as you tried to forget what Mo’rata had told you, his words could only echo in the back of your head. So you’d rather be safe than sorry, even if you weren’t the best at archery. You’d make sure to honour the valiant fallen soldier later on, silently thanking him for his devotion.

You looked around you and couldn’t spot any familiar faces, your mother and father must’ve been on different sides than you and your brothers. Your brothers, you suddenly remembered. Where the hell were they? had something happened to the both of them?

Endless questions ran through your head as you had been body slammed by one of the men, courtesy of your distracted mind once more. His hands pushed your head back harshly as you both fell to the ground, slamming your head severely on the dirty ground. You gasped for air as your back hit the ground, using your long legs to push off the man that had fallen above you. His much smaller body flew a few feet away before hitting the ground once again. He coughed and spat blood as he felt his body burning from the impact.

When you had approached him, the sun had darkened your figure upon his vision. In his hazy state, he could’ve thought that you were an angel coming at his rescue. You glowed and shaded him temporarily from the war. However, the spear that had impaled his torso shortly after had proved him wrong, executing him immediately.

The fall had caused you to injure the back of your head, the small wound that was open as the back of your head leaked with blood, matching the dead man before you.

You lifted your spear up as the man’s body accompanied it. Your indifferent yellow eyes watched as his blood dripped down the handle of your spear, smearing the crimson liquid all over your fingers. They had no sense of empathy towards your people, so why should you?

Your brothers, you had remembered, flinging the useless man’s body to the side as you picked up the pace.

You heard the buzzing again, this time you did not pause when your fathers voice erupted from the device. The last time you did, it had almost cost you your life.

“Y/N, Neteyam. I need both of you to tell everyone else to evacuate right now!” he ordered the both of you, and at first when you had not heard your brother’s voice responding, your heartbeat had picked up its pace. You flinched as the body of a human soldier came flying towards you, dodging it just in time. You looked incredulously at the na’vi that had flung it, murmuring a quick apology under his breath before returning to battle.

“Why's that, sir?” Neteyam defied his father, well not really. He was just curious. You felt your heart physically relax at the voice of your baby brother. You could tell that Lo’ak was safe too, because neteyam had not said anything yet.

“The man we’re fighting is an ex-marine. Alban is his name and I….I know him, he’s no easy target. The na’vi will only get themselves killed so I need the both of you to please warn them. Tell them to find refuge at the Tree of souls.” you frowned as you heard the despair in your father’s voice, you couldn’t imagine how stressed he felt right now.

“We’re coming to fight with you,” the voice of your youngest brother broke the loud-silence. He was talking through Neteyam’s device, and by the lack of response that you both received from him - you could tell that he agreed with his younger brother.

Your ears picked up on the subtle sound of denial that Jake had let out. “You are not, do you understand this son? It is far too dangero-“

“You’ve always told us that Sully’s stick together, so why contradict yourself now? Pull yourself together, we’re coming soon.” You said and Jake could only sigh at his oldest children. You were hard headed and Neteyam was strong willed. Fighting with the both of you through the tiny device that laid across his throat was like talking to brick wall

“Fine,” he groaned “but make sure to warn everyone before, or i’ll make it my personal mission to skin the both of you alive when we get back home.”

You had found yourself lost among the chaos, people were running all over the place. Either carrying other na’vis or running back to their ikrans. Your siblings and you were ordering everyone that had made it back alive to grab unto their injured comrades and flee to the spiritual tree.

This was your family’s battle to fight. Your father had always felt responsible for the events of the Home Tree, because he had been part of the destructive project before he had fallen in love with your mother. Although he was still trying to repent to this day, you guys were a family and as your father always says ; ‘Sully's stick together’. If he was fighting this battle, then so were you, your brothers and your mother. Your sisters were helping too, just not on the battlefield.

“Go, go back to the Tree of souls. The healers await you there.” You told the passing na’vis. Your Ikran was somewhere behind you as it waited for you to join it again. There was a slight dust storm going on around you from all of the Ikrans suddenly departing, and soon the dust had settled down again.

There was a singular figure left and even from afar, you could recognize the na’vi from thousands. His scars and uneven hair gave him away. He had seemed to have noticed you too, because he was clearly staring straight at you. Then, your eyes casted downwards towards the new litter of fresh wounds that covered his torso. They were nothing to worry about, probably would just leave faint scars with a residue of dried up scabs to pick at.

Despite the argument that you had earlier and all of the things that he had said to you, you had never been happier to see him. Happiness was surely a feeling that you felt when you were anywhere near him. He was alive and well, standing right before you. The look in his eyes said so much more than he could even verbalise. They spoke to you from afar, telling you how sorry he was, they told you how much he cared about you.

With no hesitation, you ran forward towards him. You used his shoulders as supports to stabilise yourself as you raised to your tip-toes, thrashing your cheek against his in a loving caress. He allowed himself to melt in your touch, rubbing the side of his face with yours too like two cats in love. His hands found a home at the curve of your waist, just like his heart had found a home within you.

You moved your head to look him in the eyes, and he softened at the memory of what he had said earlier.

“I’m sorry for wha-“

“I’ve already forgiven you, long ago,” you cut him off, making that cheshire grin reappear on his face. Although it quickly left as your face fell suddenly. You truly wanted to stay mad at him for longer, maybe even for as long as he walked on this land. Though you did know what was to ensue from this battle, so you wished that your last moments with him would be spent through forgiveness and adoration.

“You must return to the sacred tree, the healers are waiting for your return.” You tell him as you look towards anywhere but him. He notices your distraught look and raises a hand to cup the side of your jaw, turning your head gently to look at him.

You felt your heart halt at the look that he was giving you, your lungs felt like they were failing you. His eyes stirred between your lips and the rest of your features. Shifting from the way your ears flickered at his sudden attention, to the way your nose twitched slightly from all of the stray dust that flew around the both of you.

He leaned in, and his intentions were not really clear to you. You had an idea of what he desired, and such thought made you giddy with delight. You both allowed yourselves to pretend like nothing bad was happening to your homeland at the moment. You allowed yourself to feel safe within his presence, and so did he.

He tilted his head to the side as his eyes met yours again. The smile that formed from the little giggle that you let out fed his heart with so much bliss. Like a child being allowed to go down to the rivers for the first time.

He leaned down more and stopped before you, wondering if maybe it was inappropriate to do this at such a time. It was, truly, but when had you ever cared about such a minor dilemma. You leaned into him, finishing what he had started as your lips moulded into his.

Mo’rata’s ears raised as you kissed him. Though his eagerness was short lived as you pulled away, hiding behind your hand as you laughed away shyly. He relished in the few seconds that he got of his lips on yours, the need to jump around like a little girl was very much present in his bones and it made him want to grind up his own skeleton structure up at the thought.

He had never kissed anyone before, but he was elated that you were his first. In his heart, you'd always be the only one. If anything were to happen to you, he promised himself that he would rather rip his own heart out than love another.

The hand that was still present on your jaw rubbed loving circles into your cheeks, reminding you of your mother’s touch. You leaned into his palm, looking up at him with loving eyes. You had learned to find a second home within Mo’rata. He was your escape, the pillar that you leaned on when you desperately needed support.

“You make me feel weird things.” Mo’rata grumbled as you picked up on it. He was smiling, for the first time in his life (that you had seen) and your eyes widened, pupil’s expanding as you stared at the rare sight across of you.

“You’re smiling! You’re smiling because of me?!” you beamed, laughing violently as you two forgot about the war currently going on from behind the two of you. Mo’rata’s smile suddenly fell as he scowled, removing his hands from your waist and jaw to cross them grumpily across his chest.

The gesture only made you laugh harder, tears trickling in your eyes as you wiped them away with the back of your hands. He smiled again at your carefreeness, this time much more teasingly.

“You must return to me whole, or else I'll personally bring you back just to kill you again.” he threatened and for a moment there, it sounded almost too real. The fact that he was smiling cockily at you while threatening you truly made this scene unforgettable. You chuckled at him, before backing away from the intimidating looking man . You felt empty without his presence near you, but you had much more important things to worry about right now.

The sound of Lo’ak calling your name cut you out of your trance, but before you left, you called out for Mo’rata once more. He was busy climbing his Ikran when he heard your call, instinctively turning back to your voice. You had one of those goofy grins plastered on your face, one that told him not to worry about you too much.

“I’ll make sure to kick those demon’s asses!” you shouted and he rolled his eyes, the slight smile on his face told you that it was inoffensive. If you had had this conversation a few months prior, he would’ve probably called you names and deeming you the demon amongst many other things. Now, however, he saw you as an equal. No matter if you had 5 fingers or eyebrows, he found your special features endearing.

He laughed to himself once more, before flying off on his Ikran. Now, he could only pray to Eywa to keep you safe in her hands.

Blood was pouring out of your wound unceasingly, but the aching pain that you felt right now was the least of your concerns. You had not even turned away for two minutes, tending to Mo’rata’s soaring heart, and your brothers were nowhere in sight. Perhaps you had been too blinded by love to realise the calls of your father through the tiny microphone. Neither your father or brother were responding to your desperate calls and you had no idea why.

You felt as thought you had already scouted the whole of the Pandora forest thrice. You were lost amongst the forest, and you wanted nothing more than to escape the place you called a home. The bioluminescent beauty that oftentimes calmed you could only infuriate you now. You were making no progress whatsoever and you felt a tinge of guilt at the thought of harming the All-Mother’s creation to find your family.

Your hand reached up to the communication device once more, the other hand holding you up on your ikran. You could feel that she was just as exhausted as you were, as well as her shuddering breaths. You pressed on the buttons of the human-device before calling out to your father, again and again and again. You called out for your brother, your mother, to no avail. There was no one to respond to your calls, and you had never felt more defeated in your entire life.

The wound that was still very much open on the back of your head was beginning to tire you out, and your legs were starting to ache from the amount of time that you were spending on your ikran. You pressed on the buttons again, in an attempt to be useful. You wanted to give yourself some kind of hope that your family was still there and alive, but it was hard to believe as more time passed.

The open gash at the back of your head was begging to tire you out. Your legs were aching from the amount of time that you had spent riding your ikran. You knew that you could not give up now, because how could you go back home to your family after this? You had never been a cowardly child, always filled with the adventurous need to explore. Though as you stood exhausted on the flying animal, you had never been more terrified.

How could you go back to your grandmother, all wound up and alone afterwards. How could you announce to her that her only remaining daughter was now dancing in Nirvana alongside her sister. How could you rip the young Tuk’s heart apart and steal yet another family from Kiri? You were not sure that you were capable of doing it now, or any other time.

After too many failed attempts at reaching for your father, you had stopped addressing him like you normally did. The military honorifics felt bitter on your tongue and you urged yourself to swallow the rising bile. You had called him by his parental name, because at the moment, you weren’t searching for Jake Sully nor Toruk Makto. You were calling out for your father, the same father that had watched you grow for the past 18 years. The same father that had grown emotionally distant as you grew up, and the same father that you would continue to love nevertheless.

He too, from afar could only wish for the same. He could only wish to hold his daughter one more time in his arms as he told her that everything was ok. Because it wasn’t. Alban currently had one of his muscular arms wrapped around the middle of your father’s neck, pressing harshly against his adam’s apple. His failed attempts at escaping the demon’s hold was to be deemed pathetic. He, the Olo’eyktan and leader of the Omatikaya, couldn’t even outfight a simple man. .

Neytiri bared her canines at the pale man, a venomous hiss escaping her throat. She didn’t cower or submit the man’s threats, standing her ground as she hovered a hand over her son’s protectively. Alban pointed his weapon towards your mother and siblings, finger resting on the trigger. He shot a bullet in between Neteyam and Neytiri, barely missing your brother’s arm. Neytiri’s ears flattened and for a moment, her posture faltered. How could you put a mother in this position? Making her choose between her mate or her children. It was obvious as to whom she would choose in the end, as a mother, her duty was to protect her children.

She couldn’t help the surge of guilt that had creeped its way into her heart as she watched her husband struggle. She felt frustrated tears trickle in her round eyes as she pushed her body closer to sons, protecting them from the gun’s nose.

You were still missing and your father was literally getting asphyxiated, give the woman a poor rest. She had already lost so many things prior. Her sister, her father and her past home, watching Jake's poor attempt at fighting back had rendered her heartbroken. He was lacking air as his own sons watched their father slowly dissipating in front of them.

She could hear you through your father’s collar, asking where they were. Dramatically asking every second for their whereabouts and if they were still there. Neytiri’s heart twisted at her distressed daughter. She felt as though you were mutilating her own heart as she heard the wavering of your voice, the fragileness in your tone. She could only imagine the thoughts that were passing through your head at the moment.

Jake was not ready to go, not yet. He had yet to do so many things that he should’ve done years ago. He had yet to tell his youngest son that he was proud of him too, he had yet to tell you that he saw you too and not just Neteyam. He thought about how much admiration his eldest son held towards him, then about his two daughters that were awaiting his return back at the camp.

Seconds felt like hours and Jake was slowly turning more and more purple as the time passed. Your mother and brothers felt like their worlds were being ripped away from them as they stood defenceless.

Jake's eyes began to falter and the shaky arm that held the weapon would not falter under exhaustion. Neytiri’s cries could be heard across the entire forest at this point and Lo’ak sobbed harder at the sight of his family breaking in the midst of war. He was one of the few people who did not hate sky people in his family, but in the moment he had wanted nothing but for them all to be gone.

Neytiri’s dampened eyes shifted back towards the sky demon’s face before her own contorted to one of stupor. Blood dribbled from his slightly open mouth, crimson liquid dripping down onto her unconscious husband’s head. His eyes were voiced of any life, in contrast to the deathly soldier that she had encountered earlier. Suddenly, he fell to his side as he brought Jake along with him, lifting a cloud of dust around the both of them.

Neteyam wasted no time sprinting towards his father, as his mother and brother were too caught up in puzzlement. One second ago he had been fighting fiercely against the Olo’eyktan and the next, he was lying coldly against the forest floor. Neteyam shoved the human’s hand away from his father’s neck, checking for a pulse as he laid his fingers against his neck.

Neytiri followed closely behind her son, thrashing her cheek out upon his chest - checking for a sign of life.

She cried once more, though this time the tears that covered her cheeks had not been in anguish. She bawled, crying out her gratitude towards the Great Mother for having given her mate another day to live. He would not die tonight, not when he was in the hands of the All-Mother. His heart was still beating, slowly but mighty pulses.

She checked his body for any major wounds, though her heart skipped a beat at the puddle of blood that surrounded her husband. She lifted him instantly, her eyes widening at the shallow arrow wound that ran along his back - where he had been held against the human. The blood did not belong to Jake, she could smell the difference and her nose scrunched up in disgust.

She carefully moved her husband’s head unto her oldest son’s lap before moving before the human. She looked back at Alban’s chest, and there it laid. The sharp arrow that had struck right through his back. It had sliced its way right through the left side of his upper chest, impaling his heart as it stuck halfway out of his frontal. He drowned in his own repulsive blood, bathing Jake in it as well.

She was confused at first, but the sound of some quiet sobs had told her everything that she needed to know. She looked back and past where Alban previously sat kneeled, seeing as her youngest son was no longer behind her, but hugging your sobbing frame. You held your brother tighter than you had ever held him. Her eyes dragged down to the unfamiliar bow that laid besides your feet, long forgotten as you found yourself lost in the comfort of your brother’s embrace.

Her heart soared at the memory of you painful pleading cries when Jake was locked in a chokehold, without your knowledge. They were unable to respond to you at the moment, because of the gun that had been aimed at them. Neytiri stood up, now knowing that her husband was still alive and breathing.

She engulfed you in a much needed hug upon arrival, tightening her home around you as you

sobbed harder. Your tears ran down your face, soaking your mother’s weaved top. The last time you had cried to her like this, you had been around Tuk’s age. Upset because a boy had been bothering you during an excursion, frustrating tears ran down your cheeks right as you had breached your tent’s doors. You had found comfort in your mother’s embrace that night, just as you had just done. Because nothing in this world could replace a mothers comfort.

In the corner of your eyes, you had noticed your father that laid upon Neteyam’s lap. He looked relieved, warm and content as his gaze fell upon you. You allowed yourself to relax into your mother’s shoulder as you knew that your family was still alive and complete. Neytiri felt you relaxing in her arms as she used a hand to wipe the stray tears that stuck to your skin.

“That’s all thanks to you, my daughter.” Neytiri said to you, eyes full of love and adoration for her daughter. You had ran away so many times before, and sometimes, you had wished of losing your way. Wishing that your path led you to a new beginning, a new home amongst the lands of Pandora. But before that, you had been an angsty teen that found a home in freedom.

Tonight, your sole wish was to go back home. In the comfort of your favourite people, safe and sound in the clan.

As you reached the Tree of Souls, you dismounted your ikran before it flew away to rest somewhere nearby. You were beyond exhausted and your legs were begging for a rest. The new collection of wounds that littered your skin would make a great scar story for your future offsprings.

You held onto the back of your head as a burning feeling had replaced the simple aching overtime. The vegetation around the tree gave a calming hue that you could handle for now, any brighter and you were sure to rip your eyeballs out with your own fingers.

The rest of the Omatikaya had gathered before you, everyone that had been ordered to seek refuge at the tree. They watched as you wobbled slightly on your painfully aching legs, one by one, they greeted you with the Oel ngati kameie (i see you) hand sign. You, their mighty saviour. You, Y/N Sully, the saviour of the Omatikaya clan.

The words spread at an inhumane pace amongst the clan because it had not even been 5 minutes that you had arrived, and they were already praising your exploits.

Your blazing yellow eyes shifted between the numerous Na’vi men and woman that stood in front of you. Without wasting more time, your legs moved on their own to bring you to wherever they could manage to bring you. The more you advanced through the crowd, the people were moving out of the way to create a path for you. Greeting you with the same welcoming symbol.

You didn’t necessarily appreciate the attention but you surely liked being appreciated for your bravery and success. This felt like a little much though.

Your long stride had come to a dead end as a single person had not dispersed amongst the crowd. The people watched him from the sidelines, insulting glares being sent towards his way from every side.

There he stood in front you, in all of his shinning glory. His sweaty skin glistened amongst the glowing flowers of the forest as his freckles joined in the mix. Your eyes softened at the mere sight of him.

“You saved my father’s life back there. If it wasn’t for you, I would've probably missed my shot.” you told him, thanking him before the clan and Eywa for his service.

Your family had arrived shortly behind you, watching your interaction with the Na’vi from behind you. They had also received the same treatment from the people. Your father was back, despite a little wobbly on his feet and slightly still dazed, he was here nevertheless. You had all awaited his awakening before leaving to seek the rest of the clan. He was confused when his whole family pounced on him at his rise, but he was happy nevertheless.

Your family had praised you, alongside your brothers for your undeniable bravery. You could’ve started sobbing again when your father had audibly voiced out his proudness towards you. He hugged you again, like the both of you had wished for during the times of chaos. Neytiri felt her heart momentarily ache at the sight of her all grown daughter. She could’ve sworn that just yesterday she was rocking you to sleep as a newborn.

“That was all you, You wielded the bow, and you released the arrow. Be proud of yourself, little warrior.” He teased you, even at a time like this. You smiled at him, happy that he was still himself after all of these events. He praised your accomplishments before the clan. Deeming you a worthy warrior, contrary to what he had told you before the fight.

Neytiri’s heartache was short lived as a feeling of pride swaddled her heart. You were an independent woman now and when she looked into your eyes, she could see herself years prior. She looked at Mo’rata before glancing back at her family, which were all looking at you with the biggest grins ever plasterer on their faces.

“You need to embarrass yourself purposely infront of Iri’me tomorrow if something happens between them here and there!” Spider attempted to whisper to Lo’ak but failed miserably as the said Iri’me turned to glare at them from the crowd.

Neteyam averted his gaze from the angry woman as he pretended to yawn. Open his arms widely behind him before slapping his ‘brother’ across the back of his head.

“Shut up skxawng! plus we aaaaaall know that something is gonna’ happen. Cmon look at him, he’s literally eye fu-“ Lo’ak started, before getting put back in his place by Kiri.

Kiri beamed as Mo’rata extended his arm towards you, fine muscles flexing at his every move. His hand opens as he held his open palm out for you to grab. You tilted your head to the side in cluelessness and jake held back the urge to facepalm at his daughter’s obliviousness. As much as your dad was sceptical of the Na’vi in front of you, he told himself that it was better to watch you accept Mo’rata’s potential courtship instead of another random na’vi.

He knew that you had fallen for the fierce warrior, and he knew that so did Mo’rata with you. He could recognize the looks in your eyes within thousands of others, because he had lived through with Neytiri.

Despite the bitter look on his face, Jake was just as proud of you. He knew how much the weight of your duties had affected you during all of your youth but you had matured now. You accepted your duties as a part of life and understood that there was no reason for you to feel overwhelmed,

because your family was always there for you, and they’ll always continue to be there.

A random woman from behind you had noticed your hesitation as she curtly pushed you forward, having you end up straight in the Na’vi’s arms. He couldn’t help but stare straight into your eyes, because despite the hundreds of similar ones that surrounded him at the moment, he’s never found ones that were just as mesmerising as yours.

You put your hands across his chest to stabilise yourself as you stared right back into his eyes, feeling so much fondness for the man you once considered an enemy.

Both your ears flickered at the sight of an Atokirina' floating down towards you two, before it settled for floating between the two of you. His gaze turned back to you as he watched you observe the Woodsprite. In a split second, an army of Woodsprites engulfed the two of you in their floating antics. Causing Mo’rata to slightly back away in surprise.

You knew what this meant, so did he and so did everyone around the both of you. Eywa had spoken and she had chosen to do it infront of the many people.

You nearly lost your footing at the loud cheering, you eyes circled the whole clan as you looked back at your future mate once more. Placing two finger near your forehead before lowering them towards the intimidating looking man.

“I see you..” you smiled before letting out a curt laugh at Mo’rata.

For the first time in Eywa knows how long, the clan watched as the Na’vi cracked a small smile towards his lover, reciprocating the hand gesture.

“I see you, ii’yu” (darling)

Your hand reached to his before slipping your fingers between his very own, raising them before the people. In the corner of your eyes had you spotted your lovely family. Your siblings all waved to you guys as little Tuk jumped up and down from sheer joy for you. Your parents simply smiled warmly at you, and you were quite surprised to see your father smiling despite Mo’rata’s presence.

After all, Eywa had spoken and when the time comes, you will rule the Omatikaya as their Tsahik, alongside Mo’rata as the Olo’eyktan.

tags: @neteyamforlife @ssc7514 @iloveavatar @killinqpills @ilovejakesullysdick @liyahsocorro @sujekie @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @miawastakens @onlytays @junnniiieee07 @mashiromochi

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veampa · 2 months

Note

Hey! Can I request smut headcanons or even an nsfw alphabet, if you're up for it, with Sebastian? Thank you in advance! Feel free to ignore this request if you don't like it. Have a nice day! <3

Yes of course! Thank you for this request<3

Sebastian Michaelis smut!alphabet!

Credits to- @the-coldest-goodbye for the template

Gender- gender neutral

Character(s)- Sebastian Michaelis Warning in tags!!! Do tell me if i forgot any ~MINORS DO NOT INTERACT~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)- Gentle. Very fucking gentle, he knows the human body is delicate so of course after re-arranging his beloved's gut's he'll be soft with ya.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)- Your hair, he loooooves playing it and making it all perfect for you, he pulls it when yous are fucking. HEAVY hair pulling kink, His favourite body part for him is his mouth (lips especially) the amounts of things he can do with them ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)- eating it.. Yours obviously, it ties in with his mouth being his favourite part of himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)- Wants you to use one of your toys on him (will NEVER say that though but oh my goddddd he thinks about it so much)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)- very.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)- any position in front of a mirror, reverse cowgirl, doggy, standing up? anywhere he can see you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- serious for the most of it, might crack a few jokes or teasings here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- fairly groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)- depends, its a mix of both, if its more of a rough session then he's gonna be less romantic, if its more of a soft session he's so much more romanticcccc, leaving soft kisses all over your body, praising you, being ten times more gentle, cuddling you during it maybe.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)- masturbates to you once a week? maybe a little more? he's a busy guy afterall taking care of the earl isn't a spacious job.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- Enjoys a primal prey type of thing, he likes how small you feel compared to him, but he ADORES body worship just worshipping you in general, marking you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- his chambers :p or yours.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- you teasing him or speaking back.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- anything to do with other demons cough cough..claude.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)- giving. He loves having his face shoved inbetween your thighs. Mwah. (Plus serving you..huge serving kink whether its him serving you or vice versa).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)- mostly fast and rough, but can be slow and gentle if you are in more of the romance mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- doesn’t like them but still does them, much prefers a longer session but he’s busy, and if one of you are sexually frustrated or what not he’ll do it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- yes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- alot. Bro doesnt get tired (he overstims you SO MUCHHHH).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)- He doesn’t, he much would prefer if you would just use him to get you off! Hello his fingers and thighs are right here!! He doesn’t use them on you but can understand if you use them on yourself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- alot, normally yes but sometimes depending on the matter he wont.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- fairly quiet, a few grunts or moans here and there but nothing much.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- wore a maid dress once (after hours of you begging). Never again.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- rocking eight inches, curved upwards slightly with quite some girth.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- a mix to be honest.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- he just doesn’t

#minors do not interact #mdni #black butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis smut #black butler smut #tw smut #tw hair pulling #tw marking #tw rough #tw overstim

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mutual-monsters · 1 year

Text

the show

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x gn!reader

TW: voyeurism, masturbation (m), not a lot else???

MINORS DNI !!! 🔞

Summary: reader comes home to find Joe jerking off, and decides to treat themselves to a show

Word count: 303

A/N: oops! somebody (not naming names, but def me) forgot to finish kinktober! guess it’s time to do it now! i’m really glad to be writing again! lmk what you guys think :)

tagging: @ouijaboardemo

You really hadn’t meant to walk in on him like this.

It’s just that, upon opening your shared apartment door, and hearing how fucking gorgeous he sounded, you couldn’t help but be drawn closer and closer to the bedroom until the doorknob was in turning in your hand, the trance of lust compelling you to turn it.

And who would blame you for stopping to stare, with him laying there, slowly pumping his fist, a sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, and a string of whimpers cascading from his mouth?

His eyes, open slightly as he shifts position, and then all the way as he scrambles to sit up, becoming of your presence.

“I–I can explain.” He starts. The fear on his face is palpable.

“No need.” You tell him, moving closer. “Keep going.”

“I’m– What?” His face is red, he doesn’t know if you’re kidding. He still feels like he’s done something wrong.

“You heard me. I want to watch. Can you do that for me?”

He nods, eager, and begins moving his hand again.

He’s silent for a while, before looking to you for approval. You tell him not to hold back, to pretend you aren’t there, that you want the authentic experience. He quickens his pace, and arches his back slightly, letting his mouth fall open. It isn’t long before the moans begin to escape from his lips. As he chants your name over and over, precum begins to leak from his tip. You watch as his cum spills over his hand, and you listen as his whines calm down.

He looks to you, unsure of himself, but hopeful for praise. You smile, telling him you love him, and how beautiful he is, and finally, offering a bath for the both of you (something neither of you could deny).

#kinktober #late kinktober #tulip's kinktober #joe goldberg smut #joe goldberg x reader #plus sized reader #gender neutral reader #joe goldberg x you #🌶️

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gay-wh0re-slut · 7 months

Note

Hello! Can I please request a NSFW Rhea/reader where reader has had a massive crush on Rhea for awhile and Rhea has noticed and constantly flirts with the reader (who doesn’t think Rhea is being serious). One day when they find themselves alone in the locker room Rhea corners reader and basically asks why the reader hasn’t ever done anything about the massive crush they obviously have on Rhea. Reader mumbles something about how she knows Rhea wasn’t being serious with all her flirting, so Rhea proceeds to show reader just how serious she is?

I swear, dominant Rhea is the woman of my DREAMS. No worries at all if you don’t like this request. Thanks for hearing me out!

i can already tell that this is gonna be a long one so buckle up friends lmaoooo but no legit, rhea could do literally anything and i’ll go feral

i have a feeling that this is gonna be a bit angsty too so hold on to your boot straps hahaha

Prove it

CW: angst-ish, a little degradation/praise, fingering

Your headset was filled with the chatters of other PA’s and crew members questioning about this and that or genuine small talk. While you have worked for WWE for quite sometime, only just recently have you started working on Raw. It was a good change of pace for you, it was very similar to Smackdown but everything was red and obviously the wrestlers were different. You never thought that you would make friends so quickly considering how hard it was before. One friend in particular you hoped, maybe one day, would be more than a friend: Mami herself, Rhea Ripley.

“Hey, baby,” she would say every time she saw you.

“Heyyyy,” you would reply with a wink. I don’t think she even knows my name, to be honest.

The crew would always say that she was genuinely flirting with you, but you never believed them because she would flirt with Samantha and Cathy all the time so you thought you were just another one of her many girlfriends. But they kept on insisting, “she’s not like that with anyone else on the crew,” or “she’s flirting with them for the camera, there’s no camera’s when she’s with you.” But, you kept brushing it off, hopelessly daydreaming.

Often, Rhea would hang around you backstage asking questions about you and other meaningless things, or she would request that you sit beside her as she gets her makeup done just so she could have someone to talk to. She was known to have done this with other crew members because even though she was mean on the screen, backstage she was the biggest sweetheart and genuinely wanted to get to know everyone. Because of this, you boiled it down to being one of her close work friends and nothing more, unfortunately.

After a show one Monday, you notice that the tattooed woman was no where to be found. They usually have to sign out to let the crew know that they left, but she never signed. So you begin searching.

You ask around and a lot of people didn’t know, some said she was in her dressing room, some said that she left and forgot to sign out, she never does that. You thought that she just went to her car to get something and she’ll be right back. After a while of walking aimlessly around the arena searching for who knows how long, you decide to get her number from Bianca, which she gave you an all-knowing smirk followed by, “surprised you don’t have it yet.” You nervously laugh it off as you say goodbye to her for the night.

You struggle to find something witty to say or a flirty joke. Sadly nothing comes to mind when you realize you’ve been staring at your phone for a solid minute before deciding to go with something casual.

“Hey, it’s (Your/Name)! Just wanted to check in on ya and see where you were. You didn’t sign out yet so I’m hoping you’re still around?” you text her.

“Damn. I guess I missed the opportunity to give you my number using a bad pick up line,” she responded immediately. So she does know my name.

“Haha, I asked Bianca for it, hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. She couldn’t deliver the line as good as me anyway.”

“Then I have to hear it.”

“It’s better in person, and unfortunately for you, I did leave without signing out accidentally, had a lot on my mind tonight.”

“Damn, that’s okay. I’ll sign out for you then, no biggie,” no biggie? are you serious, who says that?

“Thank you! I owe you one for sure. I’ll bring you Starbucks on Sunday before PR stuff.”

“You really don’t have to, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Oh please, you’re too good to not be praised.”

Calm. Down.

“I try,” God, I suck at flirting, “but anyway, I hope you get some rest, you deserve it.”

“We’ll see what happens. See you soon, love!”

Butterflies were completely alive in your stomach when you read those last words. You couldn’t help the blush forming on your face to cause another crew member to ask you what you’re smiling at so hard. You tell them it was a funny post that a friend sent and they seemed to believe you. You shoved your phone in your back pocket and went on with your nightly duties, cleaning up after everyone, making sure nothing was left behind. Though Raw was on Monday’s, there was always so much to do during the week before the show. Obviously you had to travel, but it took about a day or two to set up the ring and LED walls, lights and other things necessary for the show to run smoothly.

The rest of the week went by quickly, thankfully. You and Rhea had been texting quite literally nonstop, asking about this and that, sometimes talking about nothing just so that you could text each other. You’d send memes and pictures of your animals with the same in return. You kept trying to flirt with her through text and she seemed to flirt back but you were never good about wooing a woman, they always did it to you. Something about a dominant woman really got your gears grinding, and Rhea happened to be just that.

Sunday came and you woke in the hotel room, groggy but another day, another dollar. You showered and got ready for the day in about an hour. You didn’t have to wear your normal uniform today since no cameras were being live-streamed everywhere. Once you arrived, you checked yourself in at the arena showing your badge to the security, grabbing your headset and headed to your station. You stood at the door making sure everyone signed in, this was your usual job on Sunday’s. It was easy and fun to chat with the Pros of the day before they got in their gear for shooting some extras.

Whispers began as the buff goth woman walked towards you with two coffee’s in her hand, “Hey baby!” she said as per usual.

“Heyyyy!” the butterflies were definitely fluttering.

“I said I owed you so here you go,” she handed you the drink.

“I completely forgot! Thank you!” You took a sip and hummed at the delicious brew.

“Anything for you,” she winked. She signed in and went on her way.

You heard the faint giggling of your coworkers behind you. You threw them a look and they scurried away still giggling. Rolling your eyes, you check that everyone has made it on time and began the rest of your work day.

It wasn’t too long of a day but what made it seem like forever was that Rhea wasn’t texting you. Time flew by for you when you were talking to her, like nothing else mattered. You kept checking your phone to see if she had any time to send you something, anything but no luck.

A few hours have passed and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything all day, so you head to the snack table. All kinds of fruits, vegetables, candy and other things of that nature stared back at you. Nothing seemed appealing you were so hungry so you opted for an apple.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” an australian accent said behind you.

You turn around with a smile, “Hey! What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with me?” Her arms crossed as she leaned on the wall beside her with her foot crossed over the other with her icy blue eyes scanning up and down your body.

You couldn’t help but shiver, how long has she been standing there, “sure! What do you suggest?”

“Come to the locker room in a few and we’ll figure it out from there, I have one more thing to finish,” she began to walk towards you.

Your heart beat faster, your breath was slowly leaving your lungs, calm down, breathe. The tattooed hand lands itself on your shoulder before sliding down your arm as she gives you a gentle smile. She snatched the apple out of your hand and takes a bite, the whole time she kept eye contact with you. Chewing away, she gave you an apple filled grin and handed back the apple.

“S-sure,” You force out, taking back the fruit.

“Great! I’ll be waiting,” she walks off behind you with the sound of her boots trailing off.

I’m so down bad, it’s embarrassing.

The time finally came but you were frozen just outside of the locker room. Everyone else had already left for lunch saying bye to you on their way out, so you were just left there, standing, shaking, trying muster up any confidence possible to just walk inside.

Your foot barely left the floor when the buff woman came out, “there you are, took you long enough. C’mon.”

You stumble your way in, watching her go back to what she was doing.

After a few seconds of silence, “Please, sit. You’re making me nervous,” she laughs, putting the last few items of her things in a bag.

You do as your told.

She sits down in front of you, “What do you want to eat? My treat!” She leans back making herself comfortable, which apparently includes manspreading.

You, you thought, “I’m down for whatever,” you say instead.

“Oh, c’mon, there isn’t anything your craving?”

You try your best to not stare at her legs that are wide open in front of you where you could easily get on your knees and-

“Hey,” she waves a hand in front of you, “you good, babe?”

“W-what? Oh…yeah, sorry,” your face begins to feel hot, “what was the question?”

“I asked if you wanted to fuck,” she said, incredibly serious.

Your eyes widened as you choked on air.

“You’re so funny when you’re nervous,” she laughs, “I asked what you wanted for lunch.”

“Nervous? Who said I was nervous?” you laugh…nervously.

“Uh huh,” she leans forward on her elbows resting on her knees, “maybe the fact that you tense up when I’m around, or the fact that you’d stumble your words when we talk or the fact that you stood outside the locker room for five minutes before I basically had to drag you in here,” she leaned back into her previous position, “maybe, that.”

Your face was now fully red, “I-”

“Admit it, (y/n),” she leans forward once more, licked her lips followed by biting her bottom lip as her eyes fell to your mouth then back up to your eyes, “You… have a crush on me.”

No words could form in your head to make a coherent thought. You sat there, beet red, mouth agape, staring at the wrestler inches, if not centimeters, front of you.

She reached out to close your mouth gently, but held your chin for longer than was definitely necessary. “Don’t worry,” her hand pulls you into her as she closes the gap between you, kissing you, “I like you too,” she admits.

“There’s no way,” you push back, “you can’t.”

She was surprised at your response, “what do you mean I can’t.”

“I mean,” you struggle to find the words but they come anyway, “you’re… you! Rhea Ripley, Mami, the one everyone either wants to be or be with. You’re so…attractive and cool and buff and…and hot! There’s no way YOU have a crush on ME. Out of all the people in the world, you like me? There’s no way…no way!” You stand and start pacing around the chair.

She rolls her eyes, “listen I know I flirt with a lot of people here but I’ve never thought of kissing them for the fun of it.”

You stop in your tracks, contemplating, then, “exactly you flirt with everyone so how was I supposed to know that this was any different until now,” you start pacing again.

She huffs and stands to walk in front of you. She grabs your face, this time with both hands pulling you in for another kiss. She held this for much longer than last time and of course you kissed her back. She finally lets go but is still holding your face in fear of you pacing again, “does that prove it?”

You hesitate, looking up at her helplessly, “I don’t know, do it again.” Where the confidence suddenly came from, you had no clue but you couldn’t stop now.

She smiled as her eyes beamed with hunger. She kisses you once more, but this time was different. Your lips moved against hers like they were meant to be, your hands found their way to her waist pulling her in closer. Her hands became tangled in your hair as you thank your past self for not putting it up like usual.

“How about that?” she breathes heavily.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin jokingly, “I still don’t believe you. Can you try something else?”

Her face scrunched with confusion for a split second before she caught your drift, “getting cheeky are we?” she smiles.

In one quick motion, she picks you up with a yelp escaping you, wrapping your legs around her hips as she starts to kiss you again. It was only a few steps before she reached the couch and practically slammed you down on your back with her on top of you.

She grew a face of concern, “Oh, shit, sorry that was a bit rough, you okay?”

“Don’t worry about being too rough,” said the mysterious confidence.

She cocked an eyebrow before her evil grin finally came into play, “Don’t tell me that,” she admits.

“Please,” your voice was shaky, “do literally whatever you want to me,” you held her face to make sure she knew you were serious, “please fuck me into oblivion.”

“Who knew the nice girl would be such a slut,” she finally turned on her dominant side.

Your underwear was already soaked from the second she spread her legs in front of you, but hearing her call you a slut could’ve sent you over the edge right then but you needed to hold off so you could savor the moment.

“God, yes,” you groan.

With that she forcefully kisses you once more. Your legs still wrapped around her, she sits up breaking them apart, staring hungrily trying to decide what to do with you. You take the opportunity to throw your headset to the floor after quickly turning it off. She readjusts herself, then heads back down to begin kissing and nipping at your neck. Small moans fall from your lips as she smiles into every new kiss from hearing you. When she starts to head back up to your chin, her hand finds its way under your waistband, thank god I wore yoga pants, you thought.

Her hand was slowly creeping its way into your underwear. Your hands were anywhere they could go, her hair, her neck, her back, her arms as she was back to kissing you, roughly. Finally reaching your hot center, she moans into your mouth, “damn baby. Is this all because of me?” she runs her fingers through your wet folds.

“Mhmm,” you whimper, bucking your hips at the new sensation.

“I should’ve said something sooner,” she begins to draw small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes,” you struggle to speak.

She hums in response quickening her pace before going back to kissing your neck. Your back arched as she ran her fingers through your wetness once more, moaning in the process.

A few more circles were drawn and you were becoming desperate for more and quickly. You sneak your hand to meet hers inside your pants, moving her hand to push her fingers inside of you. She understands and does it just right.

“Fuck,” slips out of you.

“You’re so desperate,” she growls slowly moving two fingers as far into you as possible.

“God yes,” you whine as she begins to slowly pump in and out of you causing more moans to fall from your mouth.

“If only I knew you were such a slut, I would’ve fucked you much sooner,” she admits. Her pace quickens, “I mean look at you, squirming under me, such a pretty sight.”

You couldn’t fathom any words. Literally nothing came to mind other than, “holy fuck,” which you didn’t say consciously.

“I can tell your close, baby,” she was right, “don’t hold back.”

By now, she was fucking you so hard you felt your titties bouncing and her eyes on them. You couldn’t help but smile at her wickedly. You grabbed her face forcefully pulling it in for more kissing so that the noises that were about to escape you, wouldn’t be too loud in case someone walked by.

A whimper escaped every time the tattooed fingers hit inside of you. The pressure in your hips rose so quickly you couldn’t hold off if you tried.

“Yesss, that’s it baby….cum for me,” she snarled in your ear.

The wave of release finally hit you, “oh FUUCK,” as you bounced. Your back arching, loud moans were quickly softened by her mouth as she continued to fuck you through it.

She wasn’t stopping there though, “you feel so good, baby,” as she continued pumping in and out of you, “now do it again.”

You couldn’t help but moan and nod your head desperately. It didn’t take long for the pressure to build back up again, she readjusted her hand so that she was hitting your sweet spot every time she pounded into you.

“Holy fuck,” you grasp for air, “please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a few more seconds of vigorous movements, you cum once more, spilling out all over her hand. Groaning louder than before as your legs began to shake and your hips jerking against her motions. Your back arched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head causing her to hold you down as best she could so you wouldn’t fall off the couch.

“Good girl,” she eased you through it, kissing every inch of your neck. She slowly removed her hand from you, bringing it up to her mouth and sucking her coated fingers clean. Your eyes widened at the sight.

“Open,” she commanded.

So you open your mouth and she sticks her fingers inside, without hesitation you sucked yourself off of her. Never in a million years did you think this would be happening, trembling under her after she just made you cum, twice in 10 minutes.

Once she decided you were done, she pulled her hand out and stood up, placing her hands on her hips. “Now do you believe me?”

You nod because you couldn’t think of anything else to say, you’re lying there, panting and helpless staring at the dark haired woman above you.

“Good. Now what do you want to eat?” she smirks.

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader

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ronancebible · 2 years

Text

lessons learned {steve harrington x f!reader & robin buckley x f!reader}

Summary: Oblivious Steve, for some weird reason, refuses to believe you're not a virgin, so you play along. This is 3 times he's almost caught you in the lie and 1 time he did. 5.5k words

A/N: I gotta warn y'all, this is pure fucking filth. This is nothing other than an excuse to write the some of the most self serving, filthy fanfic out there. There is also very brief Hopper x Reader in this. Also, I am not changing Robin's sexuality! Steve and Robin do not interact sexually in this (you're in between them ;) ).

Warnings: Brief mention of smoking weed and drinking, masturbation, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex... use your imagination :)

You breathed deeply as you ran your hands over your clothed center. Your fingers came back damp, your panties already soaked through without you even having touched yourself. God, Steve made you crazy. You quickly thought through all the cards in your Rolodex, trying to think of someone that would come quickly to take care of you, but the sight of Steve, shirtless and sweaty, mowing the lawn across the street quickly banished any thought of getting someone else involved. You needed it dirty, and you needed it now.

You whimpered quietly as you watched sweat drip down Steve’s strong back, and began rubbing yourself firmly over your panties. You loved this part, the anticipation and the carnal need, how dirty it was to be so desperate you couldn’t even bother pulling your clothes off.

Your eyes quickly slipped shut as you imagined running your soaked pussy over Steve’s chest, getting yourself off while all he could do was watch helplessly, whining as his hips rutted into the air fruitlessly.

You picked up the pace, moaning wantonly now as you shifted and rammed yourself onto the corner of the couch cushion. The couch creaked quietly as you rocked your hips back and forth over the firm seam, and your moans got breathier as the heat in your lower belly pooled. You were sure there was a new stain on the couch you would have to deal with later, but right now, all you could worry about was how Steve would sound when he—

“(Y/N)?” you heard Steve call, the door creaking open simultaneously.

Frantically, you flipped over, fixing your panties and sitting squarely over what you were sure was a very noticeable wet spot on the couch.

“Yeah?” you answered, your voice wrecked and breathy. “In here.”

Steve came into the room, shirt replaced, though his sweaty hair was enough to make your neglected core ache.

Steve wrinkled his nose. “It smells like sex in here.”

You chuckled nervously, trying your very best not to wiggle yourself against the couch again. He needed to leave. Now.

“I wonder why,” you replied nonchalantly, turning your attention to the TV that you forgot had been on.

Steve laughed, saying, “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, it’s just the 20 year old virgin home alone. Not like anything crazy would be going on.”

That was another thing. Steve, completely without basis, was convinced you had never had sex in your life. You were also pretty sure that he didn’t know girls got themselves off. He couldn’t be more wrong. You knew you were the town slut, and you took pride in that title. You just knew how to keep your business to yourself. If he knew some of the people you had slept with, his limp, sweaty hair would curl into ringlets. He was just so oblivious that he never picked up on any of it.

You just chuckled drily and shook your head, not confirming, but not denying.

———

You were so warm, and so turned on, and not exactly sure how you wound up in this situation. You could hear Hopper’s voice in your ear, egging you on as you whimpered and made a mess of his uniform pants.

You vaguely remember seeing him at the bar, neither one of you drunk enough to really enjoy the atmosphere. You were too blissed out to be sure how you made it to his car, but you didn’t care at all, because just then Hopper started bouncing his leg, mumbling a deep “Good girl,” in your ear before you came, trembling, and soaking his pants through to the skin.

He didn’t let up, slipping his hands under your skirt and easily slipping two thick fingers into you, making you see stars with how sensitive you were. You let out a wrecked moan, already feeling another orgasm building as his fingers brushed up against every electric point inside you.

“Please,” you whimpered in the chief’s ear, before he roughly undid his belt and pulled out his dick (which was so large and looked so delicious, all you could manage was an open-mouthed keen). Without thinking twice, you seated yourself on him and let out a loud moan, your voice cracking.

Please let this be a long night, you thought.

The next morning, you found yourself in his car again, only this time in the passenger seat. Once Hopper pulled up to your place, you quickly thanked him for the ride, giving him a smile and pat on the thigh (god those thighs, that not even 30 minutes prior you had gotten incredibly messy yet again) before hopping out of his Hawkins PD station wagon, adjusting your gait as you walked. What? He was a large man.

I must have famously bad luck, you thought, as you noticed Steve sitting on the porch of the small house you two shared. His brow was drawn into a tight, worried expression as he stood up to meet you at the front door.

“Hey, what happened? Why did you not come home? Why is the Chief dropping you off?” He asked, rapid-fire.

You sighed, turning to face Steve. You decided on a half-truth.

“Relax, I just went out last night and spent the night on that side of town. He offered me a ride when I told him where I was going,” you said.

Steve squinted at you before nodding reluctantly.

“Just call next time. If I didn’t know you any better, I would’ve thought you were out having a one-night stand,” he chuckled.

Your face reddened at the thought of last night's activities, and you awkwardly chuckled, which Steve thankfully took as embarrassment rather than guilt.

You weren’t sure exactly why you didn’t want Steve to know that you slept around. In fact, given the opportunity, you would gladly take that man to bed as much as he wanted. It just felt like a separate sphere of life, one that might change your relationship with him. He was a really great friend and a cool dude, but he was raised by traditional parents, and you weren’t sure how he might react to finding out that sex was your favorite pasttime. Plus, the company you kept wasn’t exactly the most traditional either, if you thought to last night with Hopper. And a few nights ago with Robin. And last week with Karen Wheeler.

Steve just thumped you on the back and said, “Glad you’re good.”

———

Robin had to be your favorite person to sleep with, you thought idly as you watched her spin the bottle across the circle from you.

Okay, you were a little drunk. But sadly, you were a horny drunk, and the way Robin was pulling her bottom lip between her teeth right now made you want to drag her into another room and make her forget her name. You shifted slightly in place at the thought.

You and Robin were two peas in a pod. She was your best friend, along with Steve, only she knew more details of your private life and frequently participated in it. Being best friends made it even better, as you could basically sleep with her whenever either of you wanted. All it took was a certain glance at a sleepover and you’d be coaxing orgasms out of each other till dawn.

As much as you wanted this night to be the same, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve had joined the party, booze and pizza in tow. After a few drinks, someone (read: Steve) wanted to play truth or dare to “spice things up.”

Right out the gate, the game was promising to be either unbearable or incredibly fun. The first question, directed to Jonathan and asked by Robin, had been if he’d slept with anyone other than Nancy. Both of their faces red, Jonathan had mumbled a quick “no,” before quickly turning to Steve and asked him who his favorite kiss was. It was then Steve’s turn to blush deeply, eyes flicking over to Nancy briefly before he answered, “Tammy Thompson,” which everyone knew was a bald-faced lie.

Many rounds later, everyone was pleasantly drunk and the questions slowly turned more salacious, leaving them all flushed and hot under the collar. Steve had popped open his shirt nearly down to his stomach, and you were having a hard time not staring at his chest and barely containing your drool.

“(Y/N),” Steve sang, turning to you. You swallowed drily, blushing furiously as you looked up from his chest.

“Hmm?” you replied. “My turn?”

“Your turn,” Steve confirmed, eyes flicking curiously over your face. He settled at your eyes and grinned.

“If you could lose your virginity to anyone in this room, who would it be?” he asked.

Immediately, everyone else in the room pulled a confused face. Robin’s head snapped around to look at you so quickly, you worried she was going to hurt herself. She had a deeply confused frown on her face, no doubt thinking of the previous night, which was anything but virginal.

Nancy had a similar look on her face. You and she had never really slept together, but in freshman year of high school you had taught her to masturbate with a, erm—hands-on approach. She was no doubt remembering the same when she cocked her head at you in silent question.

You had never done anything with Jonathan, but even he seemed privy to more details of your private life than Steve. He looked over at Nancy questioningly, attempting to draw an answer out of her.

Steve was clueless to their expressions, though, as he looked over at you with a grin, thinking he had pinned you down in a revealing question.

Nancy started to open her mouth, seemingly to protest Steve’s assumption, but you cut her off with a gentle look.

“Who says I haven’t, Harrington?” you teased lightly.

Steve rolled his eyes, huffing a breath. “Yeah, right. Miss prude having sex? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Robin barely suppressed a snort, covering it up with a cough when Steve looked over at her curiously.

You sighed. At this point, he would be clueless forever.

———

It had been two weeks since you and Robin had sex. Between late shifts at work and visiting family out of town and Steve never giving you a chance to breathe, you hadn’t gotten a chance to do anything together.

Tonight would change that.

You and Robin were on very clear terms on what your friendship meant. You two were truly a testament to successful friends with benefits. You were able to hang out normally without it being weird or either of you expecting sex. She truly was your best friend, even without the fucking.

But, oh my god was the fucking amazing. And you did it kind of a lot. It started very stereotypically, honestly. Probably just like every lesbian friends with benefits situation out there.

First, it had been practice kissing when you were both 16. Then it just turned into a few makeout sessions. It was exactly the kind of cute, awkward making out every teenager does. After that though, you stopped anything non-platonic for a few years when Robin had an outrageous crush on some girl from work.

It had been when you were both 19, on a hot summer’s day. The heat was making you horny out of your mind, and Robin wasn’t taking the hint to leave so you could fuck your brains out with the toy under your mattress. Turns out you hadn’t had to. Robin had nervously said it was too hot and she was going to take her top off. Half a joint and a broken fan later, both of you just were down to panties, playing a glorified game of chicken. You had tried not to notice how soaked you both were, just in case you were misunderstanding, but eventually Robin made the first move.

“I’ve always wanted to suck on some tits,” she had said finally, seeming fed up with your inability to make a move. She scooted forward on the couch, clenching her thighs conspicuously.

Fucking Christ, finally, you had thought, before saying, “Good thing, because I’ve always wanted you to suck my tits.”

Robin had chuckled then, a smile lighting up her eyes as she leaned in. The rest is pretty much history (in your eyes, anyway).

Tonight, Robin was coming over and Steve was going to be out for the night. You were both very clear that you would be spending the night doing just about anything other than sleeping. You had laid out some weed (nothing too crazy; you still needed to be sober enough) on the coffee table, along with snacks and water. You had put down blankets and pillows all over the living room floor because you two had a tendency not to make it to your bedroom, and it was just more comfortable to be prepared.

You knew you were doing a lot, but sex had become a big part of your friendship with Robin. Even non-romantically, you wanted to treat it with reverence because she was important to you.

As soon as Robin called to let you know that she was about to leave her house, you turned on the TV to some random movie and started rolling joints. As soon as you finished the second one, Robin let herself in.

“Mmm, smells like weed in here!” she called from the entrance.

You laughed, “In here! I just finished rolling.”

Robin came barreling into the room, her presence larger than life and her smile equally so. She unceremoniously dropped her bag on the ground and flopped on the couch next to you, just about as close as humanly possible.

“Hi,” she smiled, reaching for the joint.

“Hi,” you replied, bypassing her hand and placing the joint in her mouth yourself, fingers brushing her lips. She sucked in a sharp breath at the touch.

You flicked the lighter, putting the flame up to the joint and watching it light, spirals of white smoke immediately floating through the room. Robin took a long pull from it, before passing it to you, placing it gently on your lips the same way you had.

Time passed slowly as you passed the joint back and forth like that, until you were just high enough for every touch to feel incredibly pleasurable.

Eyelids just slightly heavy, you took the joint and said, “Let’s shotgun this one.”

Robin smiled lightly, immediately nodding and leaning in. You took a long pull from the joint, letting it settle in your mouth. Then, you slowly leaned in and breathed it into Robin’s mouth as she inhaled.

Your lips brushed softly, and you dropped the pretense, abandoning the shotgun only halfway through the hit. You surged the little bit of distance further and claimed her lips with your own, sighing into her mouth almost immediately.

Her kiss, as always, was electric. As much as you loved sex, kissing was a whole other world. The soft slide of Robin’s lips against your own, the taste of her chapstick, the little noises that escaped both your mouths, the insistence with which you both leaned into each other—it was all intoxicating. You took Robin’s bottom lip between your own, sucking into your mouth and pulling before letting it pop back into place. Robin whimpered, pulling you flush against her, and exhaled against your mouth, her tongue teasing your lips. You gladly reciprocated, running your tongue against her bottom lip as you tangled your fingers in her hair.

After what might have been hours of mindless making out, the intoxicating slide of swollen lips over each other, and endlessly wandering hands, you became acutely aware of the rest of Robin’s body. Your core was practically dripping onto the couch through your sweatpants.

Robin was wearing a ribbed tank top with seemingly nothing underneath, if the color and peak of her nipples through the shirt were to tell you anything. You moaned at the sight, diving down and mouthing at her tits through the fabric. Robin let out a gasp, arching into your mouth as you progressively got her tank wetter. You barely came up for air, reveling in the light mewls that escaped her mouth as you continued your ministrations.

“(Y/N),” Robin moaned, scrabbling at your clothing, trying to find purchase to get you closer to her. You pushed her down onto the couch, a whine escaping her as you briefly separated from her chest to take another hit off the joint.

“Shhhh,” you said, gently easing your knee between her thighs and lifting her tank for direct contact with her nipples. Robin moaned as she ground herself against your knee. You smiled, latching back onto her nipple and increasing the volume of her moans tenfold. It was moments like these that made you so glad you no longer lived in an apartment.

It took you about 30 seconds to notice Steve in the doorway.

You looked up from Robin’s chest, and there he was, eyes wide and frozen in place. You slowly lifted off Robin, who whined at the loss before noticing Steve, as well.

It was like a stare-off between the three of you, you and Robin slowly inching away from each other while Steve stood there with a completely bewildered look on his face.

“Since when do you fuck?” he asked, voice disbelieving.

You blinked. “Since, like, 16, Steve.”

Steve’s jaw dropped impossibly lower. “And since when do you fuck girls?”

“Since 16,” you answered drily.

“And since when do you fuck Robin?!” he nearly yelled.

“Like all the time since nearly 2 years ago,” Robin piped in, clearly enjoying the scene in front of her.

“And how do you get her to moan like that?” Steve said, voice cracking as he looked between the two of you.

You paused.

“Girls don’t moan when you fuck them?” you asked.

Steve sighed, almost a whine, as he pulled his fingers through his hair. He was really flushed, you noticed.

“I mean, a little, but not like that. Not like they want it so bad,” he muttered.

“Everyone reacts differently, Steve. It’s not really a guarantee that everyone moans like I do,” Robin said, barely bothering to cover herself.

Steve laughed mirthlessly. “I promise you, I have never had a girl react like that to me.”

You clucked lightly, turning toward Robin. “Isn’t he supposed to be the sex god of Hawkins?”

“I am!” Steve protested. “It’s just—I’ve never done anything like that.”

You smiled lightly. “It’s okay, Steve. Girls just know each other’s bodies better. Speaking of which, you said you wouldn’t be home tonight. And I still want to capitalize on that time,” you said, raising your eyebrows to get him to take a hint. At the same time, Robin shifted into your lap, smiling over her shoulder at Steve, making the same face as you.

For a minute, Steve was glued there. You could hear his heavy breathing, and you could see his flushed face and how his eyes darted between you and Robin, mentally mapping everything he saw. Holy shit. He was turned on.

Your gaze flicked toward Robin, who was obviously noticing the same thing. When she turned back to you, you quirked an eyebrow in silent conversation.

You saw Robin realize what you were asking and turn it over in her head.

“Could be hot,” she whispered to you. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Robin squinted at both of you. Then, she smiled and said, “As long as he doesn’t, like, fuck me or anything. I’m still a lesbian.”

You nodded, grinning wolfishly. You turned to look at Steve, who was still glued to his spot, looking between the two of you confusedly. You laid on the charm.

“I can… teach you,” you suggested casually, as if you didn’t want to take the two of them at the same time more than anything in the world. “You know… how to make girls moan like that.” Steve’s jaw dropped, but he stayed there.

“But, I know you’re a visual learner, so you have to come over here,” you prompted, wiggling impatiently against the seam of your sweatpants.

Steve seemed to snap out of it quickly, grinning as he made his way over to the couch and sitting next to you on the floor.

“Let’s start with the basics,” you said, leaning down and flicking your tongue over Robin’s nipple, eliciting a startled gasp. Steve took a ragged breath. “What do you typically do?”

Steve’s eyes were locked on your tongue as it danced over Robin’s tits, waiting for his response.

“I, um… typically start with kissing. You know, making out. Running my hands over her body. Then once she seems like she’s, uh, ready… I’ll put my hand down her pants,” Steve started.

You and Robin’s eyes both snapped to him. He noticed, furrowing his brow looking between you two.

“What? What is it?” he asked, frowning.

“There’s your first problem,” Robin said.

You nodded. “Steve, girls are very different from guys when it comes to pleasure. For most guys, it’s literally like a switch. You’re turned on, and all you have to do is pull on your dick.”

You shifted, simultaneously running your hands over Robin’s naked torso while talking to Steve. Robin let out a little shudder.

“You see,” you continued, “women are like… running a warm bath. You can’t just start the faucet and put the plug in, or you’re going to end up with just a lukewarm bath. You have to let the tap run, let it heat up, so that you get a hot bath. Women are like that. You have to get them sufficiently warmed up so that they really enjoy it.”

While you were talking, Robin wiggled under your hands, trying to maneuver them where she wanted them most. She let out little whines when your fingers trailed over her nipples.

“You see?” you asked, turning to Steve. He nodded, completely in the zone, his eyes mapping the movements of your hands and flickering up to Robin’s face to revel in her pleasure. Robin laughed lightly when their eyes met.

“Focus on (Y/N), Harrington,” Robin joked. Steve let out a shy chuckle, turning back to you.

“Good. Now try on me,” you said, pausing your ministrations on Robin momentarily to tug off your small top. Your tits puckered in the open air. Steve’s mouth was open as he drank in the sight of them.

He reached out and grabbed your waist. He dragged his fingers across your skin with an expertise you weren’t expecting. You shuddered as his fingers trailed on the swell of your underboob, letting your eyes slip shut as his touch ran over a nipple.

After a minute or so of you and Robin breathing heavily as hands ran across your bodies, you said, “Good. Hold on.”

Steve’s hands left your body and your eyes opened again. You continued running your hands over Robin, going lower and lower with each pass. In between words, you sucked at her nipples, earning a low moan every time.

“What do you do when you’re in her pants?” you said.

“I rub around a little bit. You know, the clit or whatever. Then I’ll typically finger her for a few minutes until we fuck,” Steve said, his voice cracking.

You shook your head and sighed, “Wrong again, Steve-O. The vast majority of girls don’t get off from fucking. They need their clit played with to come. If they’re not moaning like Robin was, you’re just not giving them what they need, which is pretty constant clit stimulation. Like this.”

You pushed your hand against Robin’s shorts over the spot you knew she liked. She let out a sudden moan, long and low, at something finally connecting with her clit. You rubbed slow and hard over that spot, torn between watching Robin’s face, screwed up and moaning, and Steve’s face, flushed a deep red and nearly panting at the sight.

You grew impatient at the instruction, just wanting to fuck either one of them until you got off several times. Robin’s shorts got pulled down rather roughly as a result.

She let out a broken yell as you buried your face in her cunt, lapping at her clit mercilessly. Steve let out a choked off grunt at the sight. You repositioned yourself and raised your ass in the air in front of him, breaking away from your favorite feast for just a second to murmur, “Do what I’m doing.”

Steve leapt at the permission, pulling your sweatpants down to reveal a glistening and already soaked pussy and inner thighs.

You were surprised when he licked at your thighs and lips first, seemingly cleaning up the mess you made of yourself. You moaned deep into Robin’s center at the feeling, who in turn let out a surprised yell at the vibrations. You switched to sucking Robin’s clit and quickly lifted your hand to tease her entrance, egged on by both people on either end of you.

You slipped a finger into Robin, shallow and curled upward, stroking the spot inside her you knew would make her legs start to shake as Steve finally licked a hot stripe through your folds, his tongue probing for your clit.

“D-down a little,” you managed to say as Robin’s hands tightly gripped your hair, her moans getting progressively louder as you turned your head to the side for a new angle.

Steve found what he was looking for and licked at it relentlessly, inspiring heavy moans of your own to reverberate through Robin’s core.

The three of you continued like that for a few minutes more, the room steadily filling with wet sounds of mouth against cunt and increasingly loud and breathy moans.

Steve was a quick learner, you had to admit. His onslaught of tongue and lips against you had your knees getting weak under you, but he grabbed your hips and hoisted them higher, granting him better access.

Surprisingly, you felt an orgasm building quicker than you would have expected. Steve took your clit into his mouth, lips pursed to suck, and gave a long pull, simultaneously easing two fingers in your soaked hole. You keened against Robin, heat pooling unbearably in your lower belly, and slipped two more fingers into her. Her walls clamped down around your hand, and she threw her head back in pants as she chanted, “Close, close, I’m so close, please (Y/N), fuck, please please please—”

You didn’t stop, didn’t relent, continuing your ministrations against her until you felt her walls clamp and flutter around your fingers and she let out a loud, high-pitched moan, sure to wake the neighbors. You worked her through it, stroking against her favorite spot inside and lightly licking her clit. Robin continued moaning, practically on the verge of yelling, as she pinched and rolled her nipples through her fingers until she was completely spent, limp against the couch cushions.

You had felt Steve stop momentarily as he watched Robin finish with awe. His fingers had stilled inside you, and you let out a frustrated growl, pushing back against him.

“Lesson number 3, Steve. When a girl tells you she’s close, you don’t slow down, you don’t speed up, you keep doing exactly what you’re doing, even if it kills you,” you said, flipping over onto your back and breaking him out of his trance. You reclined against Robin’s naked body, feeling her heave under you as Steve dipped his head back down to your center.

What he had lacked in knowledge, he made up for in enthusiasm. It was clear to you that while he may not have known exactly how to make a girl scream, he had certainly tried. Now, with that enthusiasm and new instruction imparted upon him, he was unstoppable. He lapped at your clit relentlessly, stroking at a spot inside you that made your toes curl and he ripped a truly embarrassing moan out of your mouth.

Robin, now recovered, pulled your hair out of the way and turned your head toward her, pulling you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered into her mouth as you felt yourself approaching the edge.

The sight below you only served to egg you on. Steve was absolutely buried in your pussy, his whole lower face glistening with your juices. He was whimpering lightly, too, gently fucking into the couch through his jeans.

“Stevie, Steve, oh my god,” you breathed, fisting your fingers through his hair. “I’m almost there, please, fuck, please keep going.”

He continued his exact motions, moaning into you at the sound of your voice.

With a high-pitched keen, you fell over the edge, clamping your thighs around his ears. You screwed your eyes shut, fucking up into Steve’s face to prolong the feeling, with Robin behind you sucking bruises into your neck. She reached around and pushed two fingers into your mouth, trying to quiet your ear-piercing moans. You gleefully licked and sucked around them, using the action as an outlet as your orgasm surged through you still.

Once you had come down, panting heavily as Steve nuzzled your inner thighs, you wasted no time in dragging him up to your face and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss. He moaned into your mouth as you deftly undid his belt.

It was honestly impressive, the speed with which you got his pants off and took him in your hand, pumping quickly as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Go on,” you whispered in his ear sweetly. “If you ask nicely, I’m sure Robin will help you get another one out of me.”

Steve groaned as he pushed into you, the intrusion familiar and welcome and making you moan loudly.

“Please,” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut. “Robin, please.”

Robin chuckled breathlessly, nodding as she brought her hands around your front, rubbing in firm, tight circles over your clit, exactly how she knew you liked it. Underneath you, you could feel her doing the same to herself, trying to bring herself off at the same time as you and Steve.

You knew none of you would last long as Steve started thrusting into you earnestly. While Steve may have had a little trouble with foreplay, he sure knew how to use his hips. You moaned wantonly as his thrusts snapped into the most sensitive spots inside you, feeling yourself once again get close to the edge. Both Robin’s hands sped up, and her moans in your ear egged you on. Steve’s breaths turned ragged as his hips started to stutter.

You came first, with a weak tremble as your body eked out the last bits of pleasure it could. You moaned loudly, turning and capturing Robin in a searing kiss as your legs seized and walls clamped onto Steve.

Steve was next, snapping his hips into you with a brusque finality as he gave a vocal grunt, spilling into you and dropping his head on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair in a manner you hoped was soothing as he panted into your chest.

Robin was last, giving a pleased sigh and kissing up your neck as her free arm tightened around you.

All three of you lay, practically boneless, trying to catch your breath.

“This whole time, I thought you were a virgin,” Steve muttered disbelievingly.

Robin chuckled. “Yeah, you were a little slow on the uptake there, buddy.”

“Sooo…. that morning the Chief drove you home…?” Steve asked, trailing off.

You snorted. “Yes, Steve.”

Steve pulled a face. “And how the hell did you bag Karen Wheeler?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Ted doesn’t know his head from his ass,” Robin replied, stroking her fingers through your hair.

“And does Nance know you’ve slept with her mother?” Steve teased.

You swatted his arm. “No. And she will never know,” you said threateningly.

Steve propped his chin up on your chest to meet your eyes. You softened, a goofy smile overtaking your face.

“Good lesson?” you asked softly.

Steve rolled his eyes. “If the noises you were making count for anything, I’d say so.” After a pause, “Although, I daresay I could use more practice.”

You suppressed a grin. “You know, you could use more practice. Robin’s still better than you and I’m sure you won’t stand for that.

“I will not, you’re right. Prepare to be overtaken, Buckley,” Steve wagged a finger in her face.

“Count me out, Harrington. This was fun, but I’m still as gay as they come. And don’t you dare go stealing my fuck buddy,” Robin warned, squinting at Steve.

Steve laughed, making eye contact with you. “We’ll have to see about that.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x you #steve harrington x you #robin buckley #robin x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin x you #robin buckey x you #jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #only briefly though!#my writing #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #smut #stranger things smut

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starilianreads · 27 days

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What's your future self? (PAC)

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Hii guys! So I'm bck again with my tarot readings? And guess what? I'll be free for next week until 15 April! So except some good quality content with me now!☺️ I hope you're doing all well! And today we're going to see how you're evolving as a person!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Disclaimer

It's a general reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't

It's solely based on my intuition

English is not my first language

Tarot guidance just tells you, what energies are available to you, or else you have free will, to choose them or not:)

Pile 1-> pile 2

Pile 3-> pile 4

Let's get straight into it now!

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Pile 1!

Hii pile no.1! Here's your reading! Let's see in what version you're evolving into.

Cards:- kop, 7os, the hanged man.

You're straight up heading for become the king of Pentacles. Like, whe it came out, It was like so straight, you're going towards your "king of Pentacles" version. Imo, I see king of Pentacles as having so much abundance and richness 'inside of him' that even being so rich and abundant and well-known in his real life, it won't get to his head. He's a humble and nice guy in general, and the idea of yours with the kop. (Ik so many people don't do tarot here by themselves so they might have a really minor knowledge of kop, but think of em as Bill gates or someone like that.) This is my practical pile, like who's very very invested in their own growth rn, that they don't have any time, for anyone else's bullsh*t YK. And like when shuffling, The cards was very abrupt, so I thought like you have some significance with tower card as well? And I forgot what I channeled that time, so let's keep it aside for now😅 well anyways, I'm sensing like really self-reflective, respective,worthy,love energy here, like you're really really focused on yourself! And it's a good thing! Like you're really rn in a self improvement journey, and I see you being very very confident in yourself and in your abilities, like in your future, I'm damn sure that you'll feel that quality in your life, when you'll feel it. Like I'm already loving, and like so proud of you! Keep going my pile 1's!! Keep going you're doing a great job! And you're exactly where you're meant to be. But the thing is, this all process is kind of slow, and it's a good thing, like you have to experience everything so thoroughly, and like with the 2op in the bottom of the deck, you really have to embrace your duality. You really have to keep things at your own pace, no need to rush onto things! Nooo! That's okay. Things are better slow tbh, if you realise it. And it's the sake for your own good.

Let's see some advice cards for you. Shall we?

I was thinking of taking 2, but in your pile it came out 3, and without overthinking I accepted it, so yeah let's see what it is.

1. Peace and harmony - (archangel raguel) thank you raguel for surrounding my life with harmonious light✨

2. Open your heart - (archangel chamuel) thank you chamuel for removing barriers around my heart❣️

3. take a step back - thank you angels for helping me to take a step back from what's not serving me.

And that all cards are just confirming what I said, and your spritual team they want you just trust on them, and just let go of the things which are not serving any purpose in your life anymore, Ig I don't have to explain it. It has its message already in it.

Channeled messages

Smile, glasses, summer, t-shirt, sunny vibes, self-help videos, books, 'quality in suffering' (and with that I meant more deeper understanding of suffering in general)

Thanks for being here, pile no.1! Lemme know if you want a reading! I'm here🪷 and don't forget to subscribe to my PATREON!

🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️🏖️

Pile 2

Hii pile 2! And welcome to your reading! Let's see what version you're evolving into!

Cards-the wheel of the year (fortune), the hanged man, 3ow.

Okay pile2 it seems liks, the path you're going ahead, is pretty mysterious, or like kind of unknown to you, it's like you're being guided to a path full of unknown, and it feels a bit intimidating for you, but the version you're evolving into, is kind of not been clearly seen to me as well, but the feeling I'm getting by these cards is like, it feels 'fun' it feels 'grateful' it feels like laughter and good times being ahead of you. Like idk but it feels so warm, and it's really feel so different but at the same time calm, because it feels like, you never felt that type of warmth before. Idk why, I'm feeling like jungles, autumn, and etc.. I'll mention it in channeled messages ofc! Your version ahead really feels artistic to me, so it's likely that you're currently or in future, maybe experimenting with fashion, or paints etc.. your messages Ig a bit less, bcz spirit really wants you to discover things for yourself by yourself ahead! But I have a lot of channelled messages for you, so.. one thing for sure, I'm feeling like,you maybe hardly ever felt that love we feel from our closed ones I'm especially feeling from the family part, liek maybe they always been so busy, that they can't able to take out the necessary time to just spend some time with eachother together. Or just maybe they we're not been in harmony with each other. It can be any reason, but I think you never maybe seen that peace and love in your family. And in this future version, you're able to see it.

Let's see what advices your spritual team has for you.

1. The miracle of nature - thank you angels for helping me to reconnect through nature and fresh air💨

2. signs from heaven - thank you heaven for sending me reminders of your ✨presence✨

I'm feeling that way, that you're not grounded as much as you should be. And the thing is, you don't need to do much, or something hi-fi, the thing you have to do just simply do is to feel the air, feel the sunlight, or if evening just feel the sunset, spend time some plants, talk to them, touch them, sing songs for them. Yeah? That's how you connect with mother Earth, and that's what exactly you have to do rn! Like you're very much connected to sky father, but have a hard time connecting with mother Earth, and it'll take time to establish a strong connection with her. Especially if you'll just start it. You just have to keep your patience and things will automatically grow at their own pace. And also like, groundedness will help you with coping with unknown. And like managing things up, even if things feel kind of cloudy, it'll help you go through it. That down to earth energy. And I also heard "touchwood" idk why?

Channeled messages

Family, warmth, winters, autumn, campfire, laughs, tears of joy, spending good time with family.

Thanks for being here, pile no.1! Lemme know if you want a reading! I'm here🪷 and don't forget to subscribe to my PATREON!

❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️

Pile 3

Hii pile 3! Here's your reading! Let's see in which version you're evolving into rn.

9oc,poc,the temperance

This pile feels like my air sign piles. (Gemini,Libra and Aquarius) more specifically Libra and Aquarius, you don't have to, but ig in future you're probably going to emitting these energies, where you're like most like now, you're healing your inner child ig, and also the parts of yours that we're not acceptable from the people you we're around that time. And so, you're starting to accept and love yourself for that, like you're totally embracing your unique nature, without any reason, as to why I have to embrace it or something, no! You're just doing it, because it needs to be, and everyone is meant to be healed right? And so you're! Pile no. 3's! I see you being a healer for others in the future and you're evolving in your healer energy in the future, because you're working on yourself, like healing yourself now, and your that "ace of cups" will going to be full in future and so, most probably you are like overflowing of live, and compassion, it almost feels like 'quan yin' energy to me, because they're literally the representation of love and compassion, and acceptance and all that good, cute, feminine words, we use. (I'm not biased but these things usually is our feminine nature) and so, you're like healing that parts of yourself that was not acceptable. (Lilith, Pluto, maybe Medusa in 1st house? Aspects to the ascendant? Idk anyways) same as pile 2, you're maybe going to experiment a lot with your fashion specifically. And how you dress and carry yourself, your inner child will be more prominent then. And so.

Let's see what advice your spritual team wants to give to you.

1. The divine physician - (archangel Raphael) thank you Raphael for shining your divine light upon my healthy body.

2. Spritual gifts - (archangel raziel) thank you raziel for helping me channel my gifts and talents.

Okay pile 3, idk my mom was sitting with me, and she said that archangel Uriel has her/his energy here as well, so yeah, they work with water, and see we have water in all of our 3 cards, and so you're definitely in your healing journey, and ig in your path ahead, you're most likely becoming a healer and that time your soul purpose or main goal will be healing others from the same experiences you've been in. I also see you like connecting with group of people who had similar experiences like you, so for eg. If you're ever bullied in your childhood or whenever, you're connecting with taht people who have gone through with the same type of experience. And also like but rn, they're saying to just focus on your healing journey you're doing great! And always keep yourself first as you're keeping yourself rn! They're so proud of you. They're also seeing to jst forgive someone or yourself if you feel in anyway you have to. Because in the bottom of the deck we have ' don't hate meditate ' and so. They're guiding you towards forgiveness through meditation. So keep check on it!

Channelled messages

Quirky, rainbows, weirdo, playhouse, childhood, Barbie, Lilith, feminine, empress.

Thanks for being here, pile no.1! Lemme know if you want a reading! I'm here🪷 and don't forget to subscribe to my PATREON!

🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈

Pile 4

Hii pile 4! And welcome to your reading!! Let's see in which version you're being evolved into!

Qoc,pop,the moon.

Hii! I just want to straight up tell you, that in the future you're the queen of cups. Similar to pile 1. Like they we're the king of Pentacles and you are the queen of cups. You're probably rn, working through your self worth, this pile has alot more feminine energy then pile 3. And Like I've mentioned there feminine energy,but here it's like more prominent. You're now stepping into your own badass energy pile 4!! Wow! I'm sensing a femme fatale maybe? Like boss bi*ch vibes maybe? Yeah definitely. And You're doing for your own good, not for seducing others, and stuff like that. Ig you're really fuc*ed up with all this shit, and you're like now I'll be myself and be me, and with me, I won't chase, I'll attract, it feels like high priestess more in a badass way, if tht makes sense? Like you're now focused in your own growth. One thing which is prominent in all piles is that, they we're so focused on their growth that they don't have any enough space for other people's bullsh*t and so you, but themes are different for all, you're more revolving around self-worth, and more self-discovery. This moon card is giving me kind of hermit vibes? Okay, you're going to be much more focused on your career then anything and so, you're just so you! Pile no 4's!!

Let's see what does spirit wants to tell u.

1. Trust your vibes - thank you Angels today I choose to trust my intuition and your guidance.

2. The inner voice - thank you angels for guiding me through my inner voice.

See I've already told you, this is more if like a High priestess vibes in a more badass way. Like and also like I used so many words which I have to like '*' a lot because I was feeling that way, I do use this, but you we're the first pile in my entire blog, where I've used this much😂 and so, I can feel this energy inside so much LoL. And it's like already 2:45 am so why not😂😂 but like spirit is telling me to trust on yourself, if you have self doubt, you don't have to burn yourself just to keep someone else warm. You matter first. And just know it! And "TRUST" Trust is the key to success for you rn!! Like I'm damn sure, the more you'll connect and listen to it, the more you'll be tapping into this energy and it's for your own greater good! Because before like even shuffling your card I was like just starting your reading and the tower and 10os came out, and Ig you've been gone through a rough patch in your life recently maybe, and so, there can be no one, but you who can save yourself, and how? Here's the guide!🙂

Channelled messages

Red lipstick, femme fatale, me time, money by Lisa. 'Ik who I'm'.

Thanks for being here, pile no.1! Lemme know if you want a reading! I'm here🪷 and don't forget to subscribe to my PATREON!

Thanks for being here everyone!! It means a lot to me!! Like really! Like seriously! Thanks a lot for your time, patience, efforts you put here!❣️ I feel so grateful for you guys!🥲❣️

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