#listen the only way this could get better is if they throw me a bone with Nanu | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theemporium · 23 days

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[1.7k] an early morning birthday treat for your boyfriend hours before the rest of the world needs either of you. (smut)

we are gonna ignore the fact i accidentally hit the post limit yesterday and pretend i actually posted this on his birthday

“Good morning, birthday boy.”

Oscar let out a small hum of acknowledgement, a small smile working its way onto his face but he didn’t bother opening his eyes. Instead, he wound his arm around your waist and tugged you down until you were collapsing down on his chest. He sighed happily, nuzzling himself further against you whilst you wiggled in his embrace.

“You’re ruining your birthday,” you commented, trying to nudge his arm away so you could sit back up. But Oscar didn’t budge a bit.

“It’s my birthday,” he grumbled, his voice still laced with sleep and his accent coating his slurred words a little thicker than normal. “I get to choose what we do and I choose sleeping.”

“That’s boring,” you retorted, twisting in his hold until you were facing him. You reached a hand out, pushing his hair back until you got an unrestricted view of his face squished against the pillow.

“I happen to like boring birthdays.”

You snorted, smiling fondly as you leaned down to press a kiss on the tip of his slightly scrunched nose. “You’re not even going to ask what I planned?”

“If it includes leaving this bed before I have to head to the track, then I’m not interested,” Oscar mumbled, letting out a sigh as your nails began to scratch along his scalp. “I’m quite happy here. Very content. Very happy birthday boy.”

“And if I said your birthday plans start in bed?”

Oscar paused for a moment. “I’m listening.”

You grinned, lightly poking his cheek until his eyes slowly fluttered open. “Hey.”

He flashed you a lazy smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Happy birthday,” you murmured before you leaned down, pressing a soft but lingering kiss on his lips.

“Definitely happy,” he hummed in response, huffing a little when you pushed his shoulder so he was lying on his back. “You’re awfully bossy this morning.”

“You like it,” you teased, throwing one leg over his body until you were settled on his lap. In seconds, his hands were on your waist like the reaction was instinctive.

“Maybe,” he replied, though the light pink painting his cheeks gave him away. His thumbs lightly swiped along your hip bones, slowly pushing the material of your (his) shirt up until he was met with bare skin. “I have to be at the track by ten.”

“It’s only seven,” you retorted.

“That means we could have had a solid two more hours of sleep,” he pointed out, his eyes still a bit bleary from sleep. He was just grateful enough that one of you remembered to pull the curtains shut last night. “You know, cuddling is good for dopamine and stuff.”

Your lips twitched. “Dopamine and stuff?”

“You woke me up five minutes ago, give me a break,” Oscar grumbled, squeezing your hips to emphasise his point.

“I know something else that would be good for your dopamine and stuff,” you said, grinning a little as you leaned down to peck his lips. “Something for the birthday boy.”

“You keep saying that but—oh shit.”

You watched his eyes flutter shut, his grip on you tightening as you rolled your hips against his. You ducked your head down, lips pressing chaste, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and neck as you felt his skin flush under your touch. You felt his thumping pulse pounding, could feel the way his body was reacting to you.

It was fucking intoxicating.

“Do you still wanna go back to sleep?” You questioned, your voice teasing and a little patronising as you nipped the skin just below his ear.

“Nuh uh,” he breathed out, shaking his head in response. “This is good. This is better.”

You grinned against his skin.

And maybe it was still-half-asleep brain or maybe Oscar just didn’t want to assume, but he wasn’t really expecting more. It was still painfully early for either of you to be awake right now, especially considering how late you had managed to get to the hotel. And he was honestly more than happy to have this, to have his girl on top of him. To have your hands and your lips and your pretty words. To just have you.

He wasn’t thinking about where it was leading, he was just stuck in the present moment of you, you, you.

His brain hadn’t even fully caught up until your kisses started moving lower, until a few chaste kisses along his collarbone started to move further down his chest.

“Babe,” he rasped, his head still a little fuzzy with sleep as your breath fanned over the muscles of his stomach.

“Shhh, relax f’me, Osc,” you murmured between soft kisses, fingers tugging the edge of his boxers down as the urge to mark along his v-line overwhelmed you.

“I—” But the words were lost in the back of his throat as the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his boxers, your lips mouthing at the sensitive skin along his hips.

His eyes fell shut, his head digging back into the pillow as he let himself enjoy every single inch of his body that was being touched by you. The way his hips bucked against your hand, the front of the fabric already wet and stained with precome as you marked pretty bruises on his pale skin. The way your body settled between his thick thighs, nails grazing along his skin until he was squirming and whining underneath you. The way every cell in his body was just so, so responsive to you.

A guttural moan escaped the back of his throat as you mouthed along his clothed cock, licking a thick strip over the fabric of his boxers as he helplessly buckled beneath your touch. He didn’t think a single thought in his head was about anything but you. He didn’t think he wanted to think about anything else but you.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs and throwing them somewhere off the edge of the bed, neither one of you all too bothered where it landed. Instead, you took his hard cock in your hand, not wasting a second before you sucked the tip in your mouth, lapping at the small beads of precome that were already leaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathed out, his hips bucking further into your mouth but your other hand kept his body planted on the mattress.

He was fucking helpess.

He was fucking helpess and he didn’t give two shits about anything other than you.

There was a vague voice in the back of his head reminding him that it was early, that they had neighbours, that those neighbours were colleagues of his. But it was a passing thought at best for Oscar as he squirmed and wiggled and writhed beneath your touch. It was a problem for future Oscar to deal with.

And it wasn’t often Oscar was vocal, not like this. But he was sleepy and caught off-guard and, fuck, your mouth just felt like heaven wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t help himself with the whimpers and moans he let out, your name like a mantra as it left his lips on a broken loop.

Because Oscar Piastri was a weak man when it came to you.

And when he lifted his head off the pillow to finally look down at you, he about lost whatever semblance of control he had left.

Your hands were placed on his thighs, your nails digging into his skin but the pain was biting and welcomed. Your cheeks were hallowed around his dick, a mix of come and drool leaking from the edges but it just made his stomach twist with a deep desire that he knew would haunt his fantasies for months to come. Your lips were red and swollen, your eyes were glossy and hooded and, fucking hell, the second he met your gaze, it was over for him.

His hands were gripping the sheets of the duvet beneath him as he came, the pleasure white and hot and overwhelming in every sense of the word. He felt it all over like a hot flush, dancing along his nerve endings and racing down his spine as his body bucked upwards to be closer to you, your mouth, your everything. He was distantly aware of the little whiny noises he made as he came, the ones that were half muffled as he buried his face into his pillow as his orgasm washed over him whilst you lapped at his sensitive cock.

He couldn’t really find it in himself to be embarrassed when he finally turned back to look at you, seeing you slowly lick your fingers clean from the cum that had leaked out your mouth with a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a menace,” was all he managed to breathe out, throwing his arm over his face to try and recover from mind blowing orgasm and the sight of you shamelessly tasting him.

“Happy birthday,” you replied cheerfully, crawling back up the bed until you could press a chaste kiss on his cheek before nuzzling yourself against him. “Good start to twenty-three?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I think you might’ve killed me.”

“At least you died young, pretty and satisfied,” you joked, feeling his chest rumble beneath you and it made your stomach twist with something quite like delight.

“And in love,” he added, his words a little slurred and his cheeks burning a little at his own cheesiness. But it still made you grin.

“I love you too, Osc,” you murmured back.

“I was talking about those sushi rolls we had last night, but yeah I love you too,” he murmured, letting out a short pained noise when you pinched his side. “Ow! What happened to birthday boy privileges?”

“Those ended with the blowjob,” you retorted. “You’re back to normal Oscar now.”

“Hm, that seems a little unfair,” Oscar commented as he wound his arms around your body, hugging you close to his chest like the two of you could melt into one person.

“Tragic life of being twenty-three,” you teased.

Oscar smiled. “Thank you, seriously.”

You laughed, lifting your head to look at him. “Did you just thank me for a blowjob?”

The sleepy smile returned. “Yeah, pretty sure I just did.”

“Never beating the polite cat allegations,” you said, lighthearted and sweet and joking as you leaned down to kiss him. “Never change, birthday boy.”

“Never in a million years, baby.”

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 months

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Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #daryl x reader

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save-the-villainous-cat · 6 days

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The hero didn’t even want to look at it.

“Okay,” the villain said. Despite the tears in their eyes, they were a little too calm for the hero’s liking. But they supposed they had always been the opposite to the hero when it came to stressful situations.

Usually the hero could deal with stress pretty well, they were a hero after all, but it was getting increasingly difficult to operate when neither time nor solutions were on their side. It was frustrating and the hero wasn’t used to losing.

“You have to break my femur now,” the villain said. They looked down at the wound and then at the hero who prayed this was a poorly timed joke. “Remember, it’s the strongest and thickest bone in the body, so you may need quite a bit of force.”

“I am not going to break your bones, I—” The hero wanted to throw up. They could see parts of the injury under all that rubble and they didn’t want to imagine how much pain the villain was in right now. The villain didn’t scream nor curse, they bottled everything up and let tears speak for themselves. They knew the villain was tough. But could anyone be this tough?

It was one of the villain’s qualities they admired oh so much but it was also something that seemed to doom them.

“It’s just one bone. I’d do it myself but the angle is shitty and you’re stronger.”

“No, don’t make me do this.” The villain grabbed the hero’s arm quickly and stared them dead in the eye. Their fingers dug into the hero’s suit but it was just a fraction of the pain the villain endured.

The hero panicked. If they had been any other person — hero or villain — they wouldn’t have hesitated to break the bone. But this was them. They didn’t want to hurt them, they didn’t want to break any of their bones.

“Listen, if we want to save my leg, you have to break it. We don’t have much time. I’m bleeding out and I need some fucking painkillers. I’m not gonna stay here so your hero-friends can arrest me.” Their face was pale and the hero’s tongue was heavy.

“I can’t, please, I cannot do that to you.”

“I’m just another villain on your list to cross out,” the villain said. They squeezed the hero’s arm harder and their eyes widened, as if a wave of pain had just hit them. They made a noise close to a grunt but again, they were hiding it perfectly.

“No, you’re not, you’re really not.”

“If you want to save my life, you’ll have to do this. You’re a hero, aren’t you?” The hero had no words left.

The truth was, they had had a crush on the villain for quite some time now and even though they knew rationally they needed to do this, they weren’t quite there emotionally yet.

“You should get a pipe. You crush the bone and then hopefully, it’ll be easier to pull me out. The angle should be better. I might pass out though, I’ll just…” They didn’t look as confident anymore.

“If we wait for my friends to arrive, they can help you, maybe I can—”

“They will arrest me if I’m not dead by then. I’m counting on you.”

I’m counting on you.

The hero’s fingers trembled. Breaking someone’s bone — they had never done that on purpose. And yet, they knew the villain was right. It seemed to be the only way out for them.

“I called you,” the villain said, “because I trust you. I need you. I’ll do you a favour in return, I promise. Just, please.”

The hero took the villain’s hand and pulled it close to their chest.

“I’ll do it,” the hero said.

“Great.” Unsurprisingly, the villain wasn’t happy. Their other hand was shaking and they looked already traumatised. The hero wished they could make this easier but there didn’t seem to be any options left.

“I’ll just have to tell you something real quick.”

“What?”

“I have a crush on you.” The villain stared at them. They didn’t look mad nor did they look annoyed.

“Wait. Really?”

“Yes.”

The hero just had to tell them. If this was it, if the villain would get captured or worse, if they died, they needed to know that the hero had crush on them.

They wouldn’t be able to deal with that for the rest of their life. So whatever happened now, the villain would live through it, knowing what they meant to the hero.

“This is really bad timing, darling.” Another tear ran down the villain’s cheek. They squeezed the hero’s hand.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll get the pipe.” The hero didn’t find one. Instead, they found a brick. None of them were particularly enthusiastic about that. “Okay. Again, I’m really sorry.”

The hero grabbed the brick with two hands.

“Wait.” The hero did. “I think I like you too.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” the hero whispered.

“I thought you needed the challenge.” As answer, the hero let out something closer to a sob than a laugh.

What happened next would give them nightmares for the following decades.

#no thank you #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request #whump

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cleoluvrr · 10 months

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Smarty I (Rafe Cameron x OC)

SYNOPSIS: smart girl isn’t as smart as rafe cameron.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, toxic relationship, domestic violence, verbal abuse, blackmail, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, use of guns, classism, mentions of past violence, obsession, controlling behavior, pogue!oc

masterlist

“Leave me the hell alone, Rafe!”

“Maybe if you started listening to me then I wouldn’t have to keep yelling at you!”

I scoffed at him loudly, eyes rolling dramatically. My shoulder bumped into his violently as I pushed past, though I’m sure it hurt me more than it did him.

“I’m going home.” The irritation I feel drips off my tongue as the words leave my mouth, leaving a bitter trail behind me for Rafe to follow as I make my exit.

“Of course you’re leaving. You always leave because you can’t take some fucking accountability!”

I stormed down the steps of Tannyhill, the sound of my feet hitting the floor echoing through the foyer. Rafe was hot on my heels, the sound of his loud, angry voice following close behind my retreating figure. No one else was home, though I’m sure they would ignore us if they were.

“Accountability for some shit that has nothing to do with me? Yeah, you’re right–for once.” The glass side door of the house flies open by my own hand, my attempt of slamming it shut behind me obstructed by Rafe yanking it back open as he chases after me.

We had gotten into an argument again, and I was leaving angry with him—again.

It was like a twisted routine for us. Rafe would hold in every little thing that managed to piss him off, blow up on me despite none of it being my fault, we would go back and forth for what seemed like hours, and I would storm out in anger with him at my back like a bat out of hell.

It was a never-ending cycle, like a movie that wouldn’t stop skipping on the same scene over and over.

Our fights would get nasty. We would both take low blows at each other; things that we were vulnerable with each other about becoming throwing knives as we spit them back at each other in the heat of the moment.

Whenever it got like that between us, I would be the one to leave. I hated fighting with him, and it seemed like it would never end if I didn’t create distance between us. Rafe would keep going and going, nonstop spewing the most hurtful things that he could at me until I’ve finally decided it was enough.

However, it never lasted long. He would come back to me practically on his knees, begging for my forgiveness and giving me promises of treating me better. I would take him in with open arms, silently embracing him as his tears soaked my shirt.

Then, it would repeat. Every other week, every month, it didn’t matter.

“And how the hell do you plan on getting home, huh?” Rafe says as I walk further down the driveway.

“I’m walking, Rafe.” I retort sharply. “What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

I barely make it past the hood of his car before he catches up with me, arm tight in his grasp as he prevents me from walking any further.

I rip myself out of his hold and whip around to face him, heart beating fast with the same rage he fills me with every time we fight like this.

“You’re not walking all the way home, Laia.” He says. “It’s getting dark.”

It wasn’t dark yet, but it would be by the time I got home on foot. I’ve walked home from his house plenty of times, though never this late. That didn’t matter to me though, the thought of being near him any longer was only fueling my anger.

“I’m walking home. Don’t catch up.” I don’t even get the chance to fully turn back around before Rafe is pulling me around to the other side of the car, my forearm stuck in a bone crushing grip as his fingers dig into the soft flesh.

The blonde doesn’t try to be gentle with me as he pulls open the passenger side door. He rips the purse I had in my hand away from me and tosses it into the car haphazardly, the bag landing on the floor of the vehicle with a light ‘thud.’

He tries to throw me into the seat with the same carelessness that he did with my bag but I resist, arm twisting to remove myself from him and create space between us. He groans in frustration, my resistance clearly being something he expected but still was annoyed by.

“Get in the–” Rafe yanks me closer to the opening, free hand joining the one holding me captive to shove me into the car seat. “Get in the fucking car.” He grits through his teeth.

“Don’t touch me!” My head bumps against the top of the car as I’m pushed inside, a throbbing pain left in its place. “Ow! That hurts, Rafe!”

“I’ll show you something that hurts.” He ignores my complaint towards his rough handling, and I ignore the threat that just left his lips. He clicks the seat belt into place for me, the strap fitting snugly across my chest. “You let other guys touch you, so I don’t see why I can’t all of a sudden.”

I scoff at his comment, the topic of the argument we just had being brought up again not even ten minutes later.

I got a summer job at the Island Club to fill my summer and save up money before I had to return to the mainland for college. Rafe was firmly against it, claiming that he knew the kind of people that hung out there and that I didn’t have any business working around them. I ignored him, obviously, the job had flexible hours and decent pay. He wasn’t happy about it, but I didn’t care.

Whenever he could be there, he would be.

I could never shake the feeling of his eyes on me, whether it be when I was working in the dining room or running the carts around the golf course. I didn’t understand what he was so worried about, most of the people that were members there didn’t pay me any mind unless they wanted something.

Today, I was working the carts. Rafe was on the course as well, but I paid him no mind. There was a group of three younger men on the course, maybe in their mid-to-late twenties, that I happened to come across. I gave them the same amount of attention I give all the other members, but I guess Rafe didn’t take it that way.

“God, you are such a control freak! I’m not allowed to work?” I stare at him incredulously, and the look on his face mirrors mine.

“You call that working?”

“Yes, Rafe, I call that working. I work at the Island Club, where my job is to serve customers.” I let the words fall out of my mouth slowly as if I was explaining myself to a child. “I was providing customers with service. What about that makes you so angry?”

“I didn’t know letting other guys touch you was a part of the service.” He says. I scoff at him, head shaking in disbelief.

One of the men patted my shoulder in a friendly way while we made casual conversation. I barely even noticed, I was too busy doing my job of making him a drink, but clearly Rafe did.

It was nothing that should have him this upset, and yet here we are.

“Oh my God, Rafe…” My fingers fly to my temples, sighing exasperatedly as the irritation I’d been feeling since I got to his house began to give me a headache.

“Shit, I mean…” Rafe goes silent for a moment, eyes traveling over my body in a look that’s not quite one of disgust but is very close. “How could they think any differently when you walk around dressed like that?”

My head snaps up and faces him fully, completely stunned at his comment.

I was still dressed in my work clothes, a pink, collared halter top and a white tennis skirt. There was no dress code when I worked on the course, and it was always humid while living in the South right next to the water.

I was dressed for the weather, and it was more than appropriate for my job. Sure, I was a bit busty for the top, and the skirt was little...short, but I’m a grown woman.

There was nothing wrong with my outfit to elicit such a reaction from him.

“And how am I dressed, Rafe?” I ask. His eyes linger on my chest for a moment before they meet my eyes again, a fire burning in the blue of his irises. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Well, you weren’t acting like a fucking slut before, either.” The word slides off his tongue like a slur, but I don’t even get a chance to react before he slams the door in my face.

I watch him walk to the other side of the car and settle into his own seat, my face hot with fury and embarrassment. He peels out of the driveway, the speed of his driving far too fast for a residential neighborhood.

I’d never felt insecure about the way I dressed, but my boyfriend had also never called me a slut for it before. He’s only called me that one other time, and it had nothing to do with what I wore. It was when I left for college and decided we should go on a break until I came back for Thanksgiving.

“Rafe, you need to calm down. It’s really not that serious.” I said quietly. I stepped out of my dorm to take the late night call from my very angry, intoxicated boyfriend.

He called me in a drunken rage in the wee hours of the morning, voice loud in my groggy ears and projecting out of the phone into the silent room that I shared with the girl asleep on the bed across the room. I stood in the empty study room a few doors down for some privacy, knowing exactly where this call was going to go.

Rafe didn’t like that I decided we should go on a break for my first few months in college.

I didn’t want our relationship holding me back from the full experience, and I didn’t want him feeling tied down to a girl that was hundreds of miles away on the mainland for almost the entire year. He’d been obsessively texting, calling, and checking my location for the entire time I’d been on campus, and I was dreading going home for Thanksgiving in the next few weeks.

It was the day after Halloween, and he was beyond pissed. It’s like he was waiting for me to post photos, because it was only a few hours later that he called me to complain. He was checking my location the entire time I was out with my friends, my phone blowing up with messages from him asking what I was doing and who I was with.

I ignored them the whole night, opting to put my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ to stop the constant vibration.

Now he’s calling me, clearly inebriated and berating me for dressing up in a costume he didn’t approve of.

“Don’t–don’t tell me that it’s not serious, ‘cause it is very serious.”

“Rafe, I’m about to be nineteen years old. If I wanna go to a college party, I will.” I say lowly. I didn’t want my voice traveling through the thin walls of the building for everyone to hear. “And we’re on a break! You shouldn’t even be worried about what I’m doing right now.”

“I don’t care!” His voice blasted against my ears, his anger conveyed clearly even though I couldn't see his face. “I don’t want to see you posting a bunch of frat douchebags feeling you up on your Instagram. You know better.”

I scoff at his over-exaggerated version of events. It was a group photo and one of the guys had his arm around my shoulder. It was nothing for Rafe to be calling me at two in the morning about.

“Nobody was ‘feeling me up,’ Rafe. It was friendly and there are, like, five other people in the picture.” I was starting to get annoyed at this point. I didn’t need Rafe hovering over me from an island far, far away while I was trying to enjoy my time in school. “I don’t have a problem when you go to parties, so why is it one when I do it?”

“Did you go to college to learn, or to be a fucking slut?”

My head jerked back at the word directed towards me over the phone.

I was completely stunned by its usage; I’d never been called that before. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared down at it in shock, the picture of Rafe and I hugging lighting up on the screen for a split second before going back dark.

Slowly, my arm raised the device back to its position by my ear. My jaw was still slack with shock, surely grazing the ground as I processed what the boy over the phone had just said.

Rafe takes my silence as confirmation instead of being flabbergasted. He chuckles darkly over the speaker, the sound of him sniffing followed shortly after.

“That’s what I thought. Call me back when you’re ready to apologize to your boyfriend.” He says. I’m still completely silent, words that once filled my head now completely gone as I listen to an angry Rafe insult me over the phone. “And take that fucking picture down.”

The sound of the call ending fills my ears, the room I took occupancy in now so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I didn’t call him after that. In fact, he was the one who called me three days later to apologize once he was finally sober.

Rafe has always been jealous; possessive. Over his money, his status, Figure 8.

It was never really something I thought he had to be with me, not when I was practically under constant surveillance before I left for college.

He always checked my location when I wasn’t with him, not that I often went anywhere that wasn’t school, home, or out with him. When I did go out with my friends in Kildare, he would always interrogate me about what we did or make me send a photo as proof that I was really out with them.

It didn’t bother me when we first got together—only because I didn’t know any better.

He was my first relationship, and still is. I was a sixteen year old girl and a popular guy in the grade above me wanted me to be his girlfriend. Rafe was sweet to me, always showering me in praise and spoiling me gifts that I would never think to ask for. I thought it was normal for him to ask me to stay away from other guys because ‘you can’t trust them.’ I saw no issue with him checking my location religiously, not when he told me it was for my own safety.

I believed him. I mean–why wouldn’t I?

It wasn’t until senior year that I finally saw him for who he was. When I announced that I was going to college, everyone was elated. Everyone except Rafe.

For my entire senior year we fought because of that. His jealousy was at an all time high, constantly accusing me of cheating and lying about everything I did. He would track my location when I was out with friends and show up uninvited, dragging me out forcefully while berating me for not telling him where I was going.

It was like we never stopped arguing that year.

I dreaded doing anything that wasn’t going to school and coming back home because I knew he would take issue with it. I knew there was nothing I could do to satisfy him, because I stopped doing everything that caused fights between us and he would still find something to be angry with me about.

The only thing that would stop it would be staying home and not attending the school of my dreams, and that was never going to happen.

Rafe wanted to keep me here, under his thumb, and I wasn’t having it. I saw a life bigger than the one I had on Kildare, and he didn’t like that. He hated the idea of me not being under his complete control, of not being able to watch my every move and control every aspect of my environment.

He hated that I was developing a mind of my own; that I was no longer pliable and willing to allow him to mold me into the doll he wanted me to be all this time. He hated that I was becoming headstrong and wasn’t the naive girl that he thought I would be forever.

The jealousy and obsession was something that was clear as day to me now.

I remained silent for most of the car ride, unwilling to break the silence that he initiated once he slammed the door shut in my face. I watched the trees on the side of the road blow by as we passed them, the setting sun leaving a faint orange glow behind them.

I was seething, but so was Rafe. I didn’t want to say anything because I knew him well enough to wait until the car stopped. He was already speeding down the empty road, and I’d experienced enough argument filled car rides with him to know better.

There are only so many times a person needs to threaten to crash the car with both of you in it before you start to believe them.

I waited until we were a few blocks away from my house before I spoke, the sight of the familiar neighborhood letting me know I was safe enough to bring it back up.

“Am I a slut, or are you just an insecure little bitch?” I say.

The car stops abruptly and I fly forward, the jerky movement of the car nearly flinging me out of my seat. Rafe stays quiet for a moment, stoic face staring at the darkening street ahead from the windshield.

“What did you just say?” His head slowly turns to face me, his dark blonde eyebrows knit together in furious disbelief. He showcases the same feeling that ran through me just before we left Tannyhill.

“I asked if you’re an insecure little bitch?” I repeat myself louder this time, confidence and fury flowing hot through my veins. “‘Cause, a real man has no problem with the things his girlfriend wears. He has no problem with the places his girlfriend goes, or the people his girlfriend talks to. But—you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

Rafe’s tongue pokes through his cheek, eyes filled with a rage that turns the ocean a navy color.

I can feel the heat radiating off of him, the sight of his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel almost making me fear he would snap the piece of equipment in half from the pressure.

We stare at each other for a few minutes, the chirping cicadas outside filling the silence between us.

“Get the fuck out.” Rafe is statuesquely still but his voice is shaky, the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing catching my eye briefly.

Scoffing, I grab my purse from the floor and yank the door open. I hop out of the tall car into the warm air of the evening, the feeling of Rafe’s eyes weighing heavy on my back as he watches me pull down the skirt that had ridden up on the drive over.

“Gladly.” I take hold of the door and slam it shut, the sound of metal on metal surely traveling through the houses lining the street. “Fucking asshole…” I mumble lowly as I begin to walk the remaining distance to my house.

I would have gotten out on my own anyways, I didn’t need his instruction. I didn’t need anything from him–especially this.

Rafe’s gradual change in behavior never failed to leave me confused and frustrated. Maybe I was naive and malleable when we first met, maybe I wore rose-tinted glasses and let his sweet gestures cast a shadow over his innate desire to control every aspect of my life–but I was young then. I was inexperienced, and I didn’t know what I do now.

I would probably still be that same girl if I never went to college. Rafe would still have me under his thumb and I would let him do whatever he wanted.

That’s exactly why we’re always fighting now; his inability to control me–or my refusal to let him.

It would be false to say that the man doesn’t still have a hold on me. If he didn’t, then we wouldn’t be together. I would have kicked him to the curb months ago, but I didn’t.

I still love him. Rafe is still a part of my world and I don’t want that to change; but he can no longer be my whole world. I cannot allow my entire life to revolve around him anymore, to be about what satisfies him and makes him happy.

He knows that, but it’s still not enough for him.

It will never be enough until I’m back on this island forever; destined to be a trophy wife for the heir of the Cameron fortune.

A future filled with five kids—three girls and two boys to be exact, because that’s what Rafe wants—, pretending to care about the latest Figure 8 gossip with other Kildare housewives. Stuck in that godforsaken manor for the rest of my life, drinking my days away as I think about what my life could have been.

That’s what Rafe wanted for us, for me. He wanted me to stay wide-eyed and wet behind the ears like I was when we first met, but I wasn’t as stupid as he thought I was. Even if it took me a long time to figure that out for myself.

I’m smarter than that.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #obx2 #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction #obx1 #obx3 #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction

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milksnake-tea · 11 months

Text

The Stellaron Hunters were a group renowned and hated across the galaxies, both feared and respected by the factions. But under those skillful manipulations and operations, was an organization as put together as a monkey circus. You should know this best, as a member of this menagerie.

stellaron hunter!reader (no specific pairings)

contains: cursing, possibly ooc, written before version 1.2, just a bunch of silly shenanigans, unedited, can be read as romantic and platonic !!

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i had to rewrite this like... 4 times bc tumblr kept deleting it :// anyways night dancer got me through this piece so :D u can tell i have a blade preference but listen he's hot

Before we get on with the sillies, let's lay down some groundwork.

Every Stellaron Hunter has a specific role in mind. Blade is the feral dog that you throw at people, Kafka pisses people off (and shoots ig), and Silver Wolf gets past all defenses.

You're the expert on espionage and disguise. With the power of masks, voice changers, and makeup, you can become basically anyone if you put your mind to it. Even people with completely different builds than you, you could pull off - as long as the holographs don't start glitching out.

You're often paired with Silver Wolf in order to infiltrate various bases. Silver Wolf can transcend any physical barriers, while you sweet talk your way into the inner circles of any leaders. Sometimes, you implant ideas into people's heads in order to guide them towards a certain path, sometimes you just do it for the fun of it.

Your favorite victim so far has been the Express. Ever since the Trailblazer joined, you've entertained yourself by posing as them or other members of the Express (the only ones you can't figure out are Welt Yang and the conductor, Pom-Pom).

And it was surprising, how easily you could trick March 7th and Dan Heng. You had no idea where the original Trailblazer was (probably up some poor soul's dumpster), but frankly, you didn't care.

You somehow managed to trick the two for the better half of a day. It wasn't until you didn't jump at the sight of the first trashcan on the Xianzhou Luofu that the duo realized that something was off.

"Who- Who are you?!"

March stepped back, Dan Heng already drawing his spear. But you weren't going to give in so easily. No, you wanted to see just how far you could take this.

"Guys?" You feigned hurt and confusion as you faced the two. "What're you..."

"Don't play dumb," Dan Heng cut you off, thrusting his spear under your chin. "You're not them. The real Trailblazer would've started ransacking that trashcan by now."

What kind of freak-

"C'mon guys, I have taste," you sighed, crossing your arms. "The trashcans here don't compare to the ones at Belobog. They're not as shiny."

"Trailblazer said that appearance doesn't matter when it comes to trash!" March shot back, her bow appearing in her hands. "Enough games, who are you really?"

You paused for a moment, contemplating your options. You could try to bullshit your way out of this, but you sincerely doubted you would be able to. What kind of freak personality did Silver Wolf program into the vessel, anyways?

You sighed, making the two tense up. Your face, still that of the Trailblazer's, twisted into a condescending sneer, before you doubled over in laughter.

"Ah... Damnit, and here I thought I was doing well!" You stretched your arms, March backing away from you. "Well, that just goes to show, I still have much to improve."

With a snap of your fingers, your disguise melted away, revealing your true appearnce.

"You're-!" March gasped. "You're one of the Stellaron Hunters!"

"Am I really that famous?" you pondered, leaning back on the railing. "And here I thought Kafka or Silver Wolf were more popular."

"What're you trying to pull," Dan Heng growled, "pretending to be the Trailblazer? What did you do to them?"

"Oh, nothing," you replied simply, popping your bone. "I just sent them a coupon for that restaurant down the street. So don't worry yourselves, I'm just here to have a little bit of fun."

Before the two could comprehend the stupidity of their companion, you jumped onto the railing, balancing on your toes.

"Well, it's been fun, Nameless." You waved cheerfully, taking a step back into the open air. "Let's meet again sometime soon, yeah?"

"Wait!" They rushed to the railing, adamant on catching you - but you had already vanished.

The world might see you as a complete weirdo, but honestly, you aren't even the worst of the Stellaron Hunters. In your humble opinion, you're the lesser evil compared to your comrades.

If you're going to survive in this job, you have to get used to Kafka bullying you. Don't worry, she does it to everyone, it's not just you. But signing up to become a Stellaron Hunter also means you sign up to a life of relentless teasing.

You roll your eyes at the feeling of a familiar gun barrel against your head. Kafka holds it against your temple firmly, but you know her finger isn’t anywhere near the trigger. It’s not like you’re Blade, who somehow survived getting thrown off a four-story building.

“Now who do we have here?” Kafka muses lazily. “A potential spy from the IPC? Or perhaps, one of the Xianzhou Cloud Knights?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Kafka,” you turn around, unimpressed. With one move, you pulled off your mask, glaring at her pointedly as you grab a bottle of water. “I know that thing isn’t loaded.”

“Oh, it’s you, [Name],” Your senior gasps mockingly, removing the gun. “When did you come in? I could’ve sworn an intruder-”

You throw the bottle at her. She dodges because of course she does.

And Kafka isn't even the least of your worries. At least she has a sense of financial responsibility.

There's no doubt that Silver Wolf is integral to the workings of the Stellaron Hunters, especially with her hacking abilities. She's certainly skilled with her work, and she has saved your ass many times before.

But sometimes, you have to play babysitter to her, because homegirl may or may not have a gambling addiction, especially when it comes to whatever those gacha games of hers. Whenever she visits the city's nearby arcade or casino, either you or Kafka have to be around so that she doesn't end up gambling all of your funds away. You would get Blade to do it, except he couldn't care less about your financial problems.

“Let me go! I’ve almost got it, I know I do!”

Silver Wolf kicked at your shoulders wildly as you hoisted her up. You paid her no mind as you left the arcade, Blade walking in tow. You kept a firm grip on his sleeve, making sure he didn’t run off and start any trouble. You saw the look he gave the claw machine. If you hadn’t dragged Silver Wolf away, he would’ve likely broken the thing out of impatience.

“I was so close!” The girl on your shoulder whined, like a kid who didn’t get their favorite toy.

“You already spent 500k on it,” you replied bluntly. “It’s a scam, don’t you know?”

“So what?” Silver Wolf retorted. “I would’ve won!”

“Yeah,” you shifted her up, your shoulder getting sore. You weren’t really built for hard labor. “After you spent another hundred thousand credits, sure.”

“I wasn’t!” She’d stopped fighting you, now hanging limply so that her entire weight pressed down on you. “I could’ve hacked it-”

“Really? You’d put that much effort into a claw machine?” Before Silver Wolf could argue, your phone dinged, as did Blade’s and Silver Wolf’s - successfully interrupting your bickering. You glanced at Blade as he checked his phone for the three of you.

“It’s Kafka,” he reported, typing out a quick response. “She says it’s time to go back.”

“Tell her we’ll be there in 10 minutes, if Silver stops her tantrum,” you said, looking pointedly at Silver Wolf. The hacker kicked you in response.

“I am not throwing a tantrum,” she huffed. You rolled your eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Speaking of which, Blade is like your guard dog. A very intimidating guard dog. With a sword. And attitude issues.

Come to think of it, he's more like a cat if anything.

When he's not being launched at the faces of various enemies, Blade often finds himself acting as your shadow. He just follows you around, doesn't say anything, and the second he smells a whiff of a threat, the sword comes out and you have to talk him down before someone calls the cops.

It seems that you’re the only one unaffected by the suffocating tension clogging up the clothing store. There’s an obvious circle of space surrounding you and Blade as you browse through various suits, intent on finding one that would fit the man standing behind you. Elio’s next script required that Blade and Kafka go to a dinner party, and knowing Blade, the man didn’t have any clothes other than the ones you and the other Hunters got for him.

It wasn’t that Blade didn’t have an eye for fashion, rather, he simply didn’t care much for it. Shopping wasn’t exactly his cup of tea either. His hands itched for action, but he did have to admit that this was better than sulking around in his room all day.

You pulled out another suit that had caught your eye, a simple black one with a bronze lapel. It would fit the vest you’d already picked out for him. Holding it out in front of Blade, you squint as you try to picture what it’d look like on him.

Decent enough. You hummed in satisfaction, turning the suit around to show it to him. “What do you think?”

Blade shrugs, only giving the suit a brief glance. “It’s fine.”

You sigh, giving him a look. “Do you like it?”

“It isn’t the worst thing you’ve put me in,” he says nonchalantly. You huff, lightly hitting his chest. For a second, a glimmer of a smile flickers onto his face at your action.

“Watch your attitude,” you reprimand playfully. “Otherwise I’m giving you the shittiest suit I can find in here.”

“You wouldn’t,” Blade says easily as the two of you walk toward the cash registers. “Your heart couldn’t bear to do that to a face like mine.”

“Cheeky brat.”

You remember the day Blade was first brought to the base, picked up by Kafka and Elio like a stray cat. He had a strange resemblance to that of a drowned rat, being absolutely sopping wet.

Your seniors just kinda dropped him off into your room with the only instructions being "Make him look presentable", which didn't give you a lot to work with. You weren't sure how you were going to fix him, but after a lot of bathing, hair drying, and brushing, you soon discovered that the drowned rat had a pretty face.

So basically, you're the only reason why he looks remotely presentable.

And quite frankly, Blade does not make it easier on you. He doesn't care about how he looks, only how his enemies look - and that's dead and unmoving. Sir somehow manages to fuck up his fit every time he goes on mission, coming back with his very expensive clothes, mind you, covered in blood, and his hair messed up.

The audacity of him, to just walk into your room unannounced, clothes completely torn and hair a mess, and plop himself down on your perfectly clean chair and wait for you to fix him up. Granted, you'll do it (you wouldn't allow any of your comrades to leave without a decent haircut), but that doesn't mean you won't rattle his ear off with a scolding.

“Just what did you do to it this time?”

You grumbled as you cut away at Blade’s hair, the man in question sitting in your salon chair and scrolling through his phone. He had just come back from a mission, and this time he somehow managed to cut off the bottom half of his long locks, resulting in a horrendously uneven cut.

“You’re literally so photogenic and then you go and do this?” you huffed, blowing his hair into his face with a blowdryer.

“You can fix it, can’t you?” Blade didn’t even look up from his screen as he texted Silver Wolf, likely using this as an excuse to escape her pleas to game with her.

You scowl, venting your anger as you brushed his hair, cutting a few extra strands. “Just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have the time to do so! Now sit still.”

Oh, and another thing? There's no such thing as privacy when you're with the Stellaron Hunters.

You first learned this when you came back from a particularly grueling mission, early on in your career with the Hunters. You were covered in blood that wasn't (or was it?) yours, drenched from the rain and safe to say, not in the greatest of moods. All you wanted was to take a shower, and preferably, take an undisturbed nap on your warm bed.

Unfortunately, Kafka had other plans.

You opened the door to find her lounging on YOUR bed, IN THE DARK, ruffling through your makeup collection like it was normal. She didn't even seem bothered when you flicked on the light, didn't even acknowledge you until you threw a knife at her.

And what did she say when you made it abundantly clear that she shouldn't be in here? Nothing. She just scrunched up her nose and told you to take a shower.

And that is how you learned that having your own room is utterly useless because every single Hunter could pick a lock. You could try to use an electric one. Silver Wolf sure did. And to her credit, it worked, until a certain dog named Blade came around and just kicked the door down.

Out of all the Stellaron Hunters to creep around in your room, Sam was by far the worse. You could handle Kafka going through your makeup, or Blade judging your taste in books. You can deal with Elio having his fucking shoes on your bed because he's your boss and honestly what are you going to do against an actual seer? Exactly. Nothing. At least his shoes are usually clean.

But Sam? He doesn't visit so that he can go through your things, or just hang around. No. He comes around with the pure intention of scaring the shit out of you.

He just waits?? Outside your door?? In the dark?? Until you open it and he jumps you. It usually ends with someone getting punched, but honestly, it's nothing either of you couldn't handle.

Silver Wolf likes to pretend that she isn't as bad as the other because in her words, she "gives you a warning". Said warning is "You better be decent" before she barges in and starts rambling about the new game she bought.

One time you were not decent and someone had to pay the price. That someone was not you.

There is one good thing that comes out of all this invasion of privacy. Because whatever the others do to you, you get to do right back to them.

“What does this button do?”

“Don’t touch that.” Kafka playfully whined as Silver Wolf snatched away the console in her hands. The hacker was less than pleased, having returned to her room only to discover that she’d been chosen as the Hunters’ victim for today.

You lean against Kafka’s shoulder, pouting alongside her at your latest toy being confiscated. “C’mon Silver, let us have some fun at least.”

“After you two invaded my room? Not a chance,” she replied, tossing the console to somewhere you and Kafka couldn’t reach. Kafka merely hummed at the loss, leaning back onto Silver Wolf’s messy bed.

“You know, you should really clean up around here,” she commented. “They nearly killed themselves tripping over a stack of DVDs.”

“Agreed, although I wouldn’t mention that last part,” you said, picking up another one of Silver Wolf’s consoles. This one had a fighting game on it. Silver Wolf rolled her eyes as you quickly busied yourself with fighting the boss she had left off on.

“If you don’t want to get hurt, then don’t come in,” she said, plopping down on the bed next to you. Kafka smiled.

“Sure, but where’s the fun in that?” she asked, watching you tap away at the screen. “It was just a suggestion, no need to get all worked up.”

“I’m not, but okay.” Silver Wolf hissed as your character took damage. “If you get my character killed-”

“I won’t,” you retorted, swiftly defeating the boss. You tossed Silver Wolf the console. “See?”

“You’re half dead,” Silver Wolf deadpanned.

“Doesn't matter. I still won.”

Your group chat is an absolute mess, with no one understanding Silver Wolf's slang or dialect. Blade's outdated brain short-circuited the first time he touched a phone, while Kafka just silently accepted her fate. You often have to translate because Silver Wolf sure wasn't going to.

Gambling Addict: Ykw blade

Gambling Addict: This is why u pull no bitches

Gambling Addict: Bc if [name] didnt yassify u

Gambling Addict: U would have zero rizz

Gambling Addict: Negative rizz actually

You: I see no lie here

Gambling Addict: So stfu about my social life at least i can pull bitches

DONT PICK UP: [Name], translate

Gambling Addict: [Name] i have ur closet at gunpoint

You: She means Blade can't attract maidens bc he has as much charisma as a blobfish

You: Also stfu silver I know you can't shoot for shit

Gambling Addict: [NAME]

Gambling Addict: Actually no, ur right

DONT PICK UP: Oh, I see

You: I'm always right 💅✨

DONT PICK UP: That does sound like Bladie

Gambling Addict: Listen

Gambling Addict: All i know is that blades been real quiet since i said that

Blade: Silver Wolf.

Gambling Addict: And so he speaks!

Blade: Count your days.

You like to fuck with the others by pretending to be them. Blade nearly murdered you because one time you got bored, and decided that slandering his nonexistent image would be ample entertainment.

In minutes, you turned yourself into Blade's lookalike, and spent the afternoon prancing around in a maid dress because what else were you going to use it for? Unfortunately, that also put you as a target for Blade's wrath. Fortunately, you have a lot of experience escaping people you pissed off.

Silver Wolf still has the pictures. Kafka laughed her ass off until you did the exact same thing to her. And that's when she started shooting.

"I can't believe you did this," you sniffed dramatically, fake tears falling from your face. In your hands was what used to be your pride and joy, the beautiful maid dress that you'd spent millions on (lie).

What used to be a gorgeous garment with frills and lace, was now in tatters from Kafka's bullets and Blade's sword. The two aforementioned culprits weren't the slightest bit guilty as they watched you lament over your clothes.

"You should've thought of that before you started walking around like that," Kafka blew at her smoking gun. Blade nodded firmly in agreement, holding his sword close to his chest.

"It was cute!" you huffed, shaking your head. You weren't actually mad at them. You could always buy another dress to mess with them. Besides, you already got what you wanted.

Your gaze met with Silver Wolf's, who grinned back, holding her phone in between her fingers.

None of the Stellaron Hunters know basic first aid, and that includes you. Most of you just slap on a few bandages, some weird smelling ointment, and call it a day. Silver Wolf doesn't even do that, she just downs three bowls of rice and walks off the broken arm like a Sunday hangover.

But one day, just as your luck would have it, you came back to base with an injury that you couldn't just bandage away. No one knew what to do, and you were bleeding out fast. So what did this hardened group of criminals do?

They googled it. They fucking googled it.

Silver Wolf deadass just searched up how to fix you while you were bleeding out next to her. Kafka, to her credit, did hold your hand to try and comfort you (albeit mockingly), and Blade just stood back and watched. If Elio foresaw a way to help you, well, he didn't say anything.

But it all turned out all right in the end. Eventually, Silver Wolf gave up and simply shoved a bowl of her fried rice in front of you. You still don't know how or why, but it somehow worked. It shouldn't have, but it did.

The scene in front of you reminded you of a bunch of school children watching a chemistry experiment for the first time. The Stellaron Hunters crowded around you, eyes trained onto your closing wound with unnerving fascination. Even Blade, who rarely had any emotion at all, was watching you with the faintest glimmer of awe.

"What the hell did you put in that thing?" you turned in disbelief to Silver Wolf, the only unphased person in the room. The hacker was already somewhere else, her thumbs tapping rapidly as she played another one of her rhythm games.

"Trash."

"WHAT." You almost throttled her before she quickly teleported a safe distance away, clutching her phone to her chest.

"Kidding, kidding, no need to get all worked up!" She sighed, clearing a level without looking.

"Just some solid water and protein rice, that's all."

"You mean ice?" You swatted at Kafka, who was poking at where your wound used to be.

"No."

Safe to say, the Stellaron Hunters are an... interesting bunch, to put it lightly. They're all assholes, including you, and seem to thrive over inconveniencing each other. The only time you all can somewhat work together is when you're acting out one of Elio's scripts.

But you'd be lying if you said you hated working at this job. You live for the thrill of things, and being a Hunter was the most fun you've had in a long, long time, even if your coworkers occasionally annoyed you to death.

None of you would ever say it aloud, but you wouldn't trade each other for anything in the world.

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bvidzsoo · 4 months

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (3)

Chapter 3: Itch

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Warning: use of the word "fuck"

Word count: 4,206

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone, here's my present for you all. Excuse me if this chapter is a little confusing, although I hope it isn't, I tried hard to put her feelings into words and describe it accordingly. The taglist is open, so let me know if you're interested. Please listen to the song in the playlist (Itch) before or while reading! Thank you and I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is always very much appreciated!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『There's a rumbling

In my head

It's getting louder

Louder』

The weather hasn’t drastically improved nor gotten better even a little bit as the sky was grey and the wind blew harshly. Before my mother left for work she warned me to have an umbrella with myself today as it could start pouring at any given moment, and I listened to her. I swear to God that woman has some sort of supranatural sense as her predictions are always right. I didn’t have classes today, but I had to work on one of my assignment’s, and after realizing that if I were to stay at home I’d be laying in my bed all day, I dressed up in comfortable clothes and packed what I had to bring with myself before I headed to my university’s library.

The bus ride was quick as traffic has dispersed since the early hours of the morning, making it easier to get to my destination. After getting off the bus I headed to the closest coffee shop, knowing I would need some caffeine if I planned on not falling asleep at the library. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sometimes the quiet and warm ambience gets to me, and without meaning to, I fall asleep at the table instead of studying diligently. I didn’t plan on doing that today as I was nearing the deadline. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I didn’t deal well with stress and it was currently eating me up as I ran over on my phone of the assignment’s requirements while I entered the main building of my university. It was buzzing with life as everyone was busy doing something and I nodded at the familiar faces before beelining it for the stairs, headed to the top floor. The main building was an old one and it was rather cold inside at all times, the library being the only one actually heated up enough that you wouldn’t freeze during the winter. I sighed in content as I pushed open the big doors, warmth seeping into my bones instantly. It wasn’t too cold outside, but I forgot to wear a jacket today, and the tank top and hoodie I was wearing over it wasn’t keeping me warm enough. The library was quiet and the ceiling lights were dim inside, desk lamps turned on by the students having to study. I walked past the front desk and greeted the librarian quietly, trying to ignore the disapproving look she threw at my coffee in hand. I wouldn’t be using any books; I just needed a desk and chair to be able to do my homework. So, before she could ask me to leave or throw away my coffee, I turned around and speedwalked down the main lobby, headed towards the next room where the large tables were placed in four rows. It was the study room, basically.

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee, looking around for a secluded spot, away from prying eyes, as I slowly walked down the middle aisle, appreciating the sweet taste of my Caramel Macchiato. Nobody really paid me any mind and I was glad as I didn’t feel like striking up a conversation with anyone. I spotted an empty seat to the left at a table where not many sat, and decided to claim it as mine as I turned left, going down another row of table and chairs. One student threw me a nasty look as my tote bag accidentally crashed against their arm and I gave them a cheeky smile before continuing to walk, not exactly sorry for disturbing them. I took another sip of my coffee as with my other hand I placed my phone back inside my back pocket, and noticed someone kind of familiar. My eyes narrowed as I continued walking towards them as they sat in the way of my claimed spot. I didn’t mean to stare, but I couldn’t tell straight away who it was as their head hung low and shoulders were slouched as they were writing in a notebook. He had headphones over his ears and was bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music, and as I got closer, my steps slightly faltered. I stopped mid-sip as I realized who it was. Mingi remained oblivious to my surprised face as I quickly snapped out of it and quickly took off, whizzing past him and the long table he sat at, adamant on ignoring him and finally reaching my own seat. He hadn’t noticed me, after all, so I didn’t think he was aware that I was here too. My mouth pulled into a grimace as the thought of being at the same place as Mingi was rather inconvenient right now, I wasn’t in the mood to face him today. I didn’t feel like arguing or bickering, and if he were to approach me, I knew it was inevitable. I sighed as I reached my seat and allowed my bag to fall onto the table, creating a light bang. Someone from the other end of the table glanced at me, but quickly went back to their work.

I placed my coffee on the table and sat in my chair, opening my tote bag. I quickly emptied the bag of its contents, grateful that I haven’t forgotten anything at home. I placed my big sketchbook in front of me as I organized the rest of my things on the table. My smaller pencil case was placed next to my coffee, where my right hand was. Then, the bigger pencil case which contained all sorts of pens and pencils, was placed in the middle, just above my sketchbook. I placed the hard cover sketchbook, my personal one in which I always draw and consider my journal, to my left where it wouldn’t bother me as I worked. I placed the book on color theory I have brought with myself on top of my sketchbook and opened it, flipping through the pages, searching for the one I was supposed to read before starting my assignment. We were supposed to make an abstract drawing using acrylics. I sighed as I found the page and realized I had to read five before starting to draw. Five weren’t many pages, but it felt like I didn’t have the mental capacity to read. Seems like the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. But I had to do it, so, after taking another sip of my coffee, I placed my elbow on the table and after placing my cheek in my palm, I started reading with a loud sigh. My eyes ran over the words lazily only half paying attention to them as I felt my phone buzz in my jean’s back pocket. I was itching to check the message, but I knew I wouldn’t do any studying if I was to check my phone right now.

As I was reading the third page, I heard firm footsteps stomping in my direction, but I didn’t look up. I have finally somehow found the power to concentrate on my task, and besides, I was in a library, it was probably another student headed to sit at the table I was sat at. After all, I have chosen this table because it had few people who could bother me. However, I soon became aware that the approaching person stopped right across me, and as I looked up confused, my mouth involuntarily dropped a little. The chair was already pulled back and before I could even complain, Mingi’s lean body dropped into the chair as he pulled it closer to the table. His things were gathered in his arms and he very loudly dropped them onto the table, creating the other student at the table to glare in his direction. For a second, I found myself speechless as I stared at a very casual looking Mingi. His black hair was pushed back, his forehead on display for the first time, and his eyes had no makeup as he blinked at me through his black glasses. I had no idea Mingi wears glasses? It was resting rather low on his tall nose and I snapped out of my staring as a lazy smirk appeared on his cherry-red lips.

“What are you doing?!” I whispered furiously, eyebrows furrowing as I placed my book on the table. Mingi’s smirk turned into a small smile.

“Catching up on some homework, and you?” Mingi’s answer made my eyebrows furrow even more. Did he seriously think I was interested in whatever he was here for?

“No!” My voice almost raised, but I was able to control it, “Here. With me—why did you come sit here?! The other table seemed perfectly fine to me—”

“Ah, so you have seen me.” Mingi seemed pleased with himself as he fished his phone out from underneath the three notebooks he had dumped on the table, “I just didn’t feel like sitting alone. Is that a problem?”

I opened my mouth to fire back a ‘yes’ at him, but found myself hesitating instead. I didn’t exactly understand his motives. He was sitting by himself up until now, who knows since when, so what changed now? Why did he want to sit with me all of a sudden? He was definitely only here to bother me.

“We’re not friends.” I raised my eyebrows at Mingi, voice sharp, “And you seemed pretty fine by yourself.”

Mingi just sighed and organized his notebooks, pushing two away from himself as he opened the other one. He grabbed his headphones from around his neck, but he didn’t lift them to his ear yet.

“Is it such a crime that I want to sit at the same table with you?” The defeat in Mingi’s voice took me off guard, and I gulped, jaw clenching as I avoided his disappointed gaze. What was he disappointed about? It’s not like we were friends. Did I say something wrong? And why should I care if I have hurt his feelings? I was only voicing the truth.

“I sat here because I want to be alone.” I threw him a sharp glare and Mingi’s lips turned into a thin line as he slid down in his chair. He wore a loose black t-shirt which reached below his elbows, jacket discarded on the chair next to his. He wore grey sweatpants too; it was the most casual I have seen him. Compared to how he would usually dress, this look gave him an aura of someone who you are safe with and radiates comfort. It was unusual compared to the always cocky, witty, and smirking Mingi. I didn’t know where to put him, it felt like he was vulnerable right now, almost showing a side of his I haven’t met yet. Could this be the real Mingi? Before I could start dwelling on such thing, I shook my head and the thought out of my mind.

“I won’t bother you.” Mingi tried to coerce me and I just sighed loudly and long, letting him know he was an inconvenience to me right now as I aggressively closed my book and pushed it aside. I knew enough about colors already, and I wasn’t in the mood to read anymore thanks to Mingi, who threw me off my sudden burst of motivation. I threw Mingi one last disapproving look before looking down and opening my sketchbook. I pulled my smaller pencil case closer to myself and opened that as well as I fished around for the black acrylic.

『There's a shaking

In my bones

It's getting stronger

Stronger』

I willed myself to ignore Mingi as I started tracing lines with the acrylic, shutting out every noise which could bother me as I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, wondering what I was drawing. Usually when I had an assignment, I had an idea of what the drawing would be about, but right now, I had no idea what I was doing and it didn’t feel nice. It made me feel like I was losing control, like I wasn’t myself. I grabbed the burgundy acrylic and darkened the right corner of the paper, fingers feeling oily from the tool I was using. I tried finding something in the lines, a vision, something which could give me guidance, but it was simply a mess and it caused me to feel defeated as I grabbed another color mindlessly, having stopped paying attention to the color combination. The one and only thing I should have paid attention to. But the drawing looked like nothing and my hand was moving faster as I traced lines and made circles on the paper, creating an amalgam of colors. The top of the drawing was dark and heavy, it made me feel mad and desperate the longer I looked at it. Then, the lower half of the drawing had the lighter colors, colors which felt like there was something good in the world, something worth living for. But the middle of the drawing remained blank and my hand halted as I became stuck. What was I supposed to do? Was I to connect the two worlds of whirling emotions? Was I to leave it blank because there were no existent roads leading the two together?

『There's a hunger

In my heart

It's full of promise

Promise』

And then I looked up, eyebrows drawn together as I felt numbness creep up into my chest, not finding a way out. I have forgotten Mingi was here, with me. And as our eyes connected, I realized he was here. And he was watching me. Lips slightly parted, his eyes seemed to hold a sincerity I have never seen in anyone else before, his eyebrows slightly raised. Suddenly, I felt breathless as his deep gaze kept me locked in, as he silenced my thoughts. I didn’t understand the look on his face, or what his eyes were trying to tell me, but suddenly my heart started beating so fast that I dropped the acrylic I had in my hand and gasped. Why was Mingi here? What did he want? Eyes turning into a glare, I looked down and furiously dug around in my pencil case, looking for the grey acrylic. I didn’t mean to do it, many times I don’t mean to do what I do, but my hand came crashing down against the table and then I was scrabbling at the blank space, creating a big nothing. A void. I paused for a second thinking that I have ruined the drawing and now I would have to start over, which was the smartest thing to do, probably. But for some reason, in the mess of scribble, I saw lines. Lines looking like paths, which were made to connect the top half and the bottom half of the drawing. I grabbed the yellow and purple acrylic and started tracing those lines, shading over the grey void, everything blending together seamlessly. My lips parted as an incredulous breath left my lips, confused at everything I was feeling at the moment. I did usually let my emotions pour into my drawings, but this was new. This was intense and it hasn’t happened before. I didn’t even understand it myself as I felt myself smile a little bit, almost as if my body felt relief, almost as if my heart became less heavy.

『There's an itch

Under my skin

It's under my skin

Under my skin』

The flipping of a page snapped me back to reality and I was once again aware that I was in the library and—Mingi was sitting right across me. And as I looked up, all previous feelings disappeared as my eyes fell on what held Mingi’s attention. My sketchbook. The one which was like my journal. I gasped, loudly,

“Stop.” I didn’t mean for my voice to be so loud, but several students turned our way as Mingi’s hand froze midair. The page he was about to flip fell back, and he looked up slowly, “I never gave you permission to look through that.”

Mingi held my fierce gaze for a second before he hummed, acting nonchalant, acting as if he hadn’t looked through something which was personal, something which contained my feelings and thoughts as I always doodle a few words in the right bottom of the page.

“My bad, I didn’t think it was personal,” My jaw clenched and before I could say anything, Mingi continued, “You’re quite good, did you know? You’re talented.”

I scoffed and looked around in disbelief before my eyes fell back on Mingi. He was smirking, looking way too amused at my annoyance, “Of course I’m good, Mingi. I’m more than just good. I’m the founder of the Fine Arts club at our university, I’m supposed to be the best student.”

“And are you?” Mingi raised an eyebrow and it made my blood boil even more. He was able to make my mood change way too easily, it pissed me off.

“I am.” I whisper-snapped and Mingi hummed again, acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. It was. I could never lack. I always had to deliver, and constantly had to prove myself that I was the best. Everyone had high expectations of me, but perhaps, it was myself who set the bar so high that I sometimes felt like I was crumbling, “Give it back.”

I swiftly leaned over the table and went to snatch the sketchbook back from Mingi, but he clumsily grabbed it and pulled it towards himself, out of my reach. The page he wanted to flip when I caught him was accidentally flipped and we looked down at it at the same time. My eyes widened in mortification and my heart dropped to my stomach as Mingi stared at his own eyes in my sketchbook. It was the first drawing I have made of them, it was somewhat scribbled over, but it was painfully obvious whose eyes it was. Hoping that he hadn’t recognized his own eyes, I quickly snatched the sketchbook back and slammed it shut, feeling a slight burn in my cheeks. That wasn’t good, I shouldn’t be blushing. And my heart also needs to calm down, I can feel my pulse in my neck. I looked up at Mingi through my lashes only to see him already staring at me. He looked incredibly surprised and confused at the same time, it was as if I was looking at a puppy, before his expression formed into something more detestable.

“Who’s eyes are those?” He whisper-asked with a glint in his sharp eyes, resting his chin in his palm as his ring-clad fingers tapped against his cheek rhythmically. His reaction was better than the one I was expecting, I thought he had figured it out, I could lie my way out of this.

“Someone’s.” I answered as I closed my other sketchbook too, needing to flee. There goes my strong and convincing answer. I was crying on the inside, emotionless on the outside.

“Mine?” My body froze and I slowly raised my gaze to look at Mingi, who was smirking and slowly pushing up his glass on the bridge of his nose. My jaw clenched as my heart started beating faster.

『'Cause I just wanna feel something real

'Cause I just wanna feel something』

“No, Yunho’s.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think. My jaw clenched as I mentally cursed myself. What are the chances Mingi knows Yunho, though? And I haven’t said his family name, it could be anyone. I didn’t wait to see Mingi’s reaction as I quickly started packing away everything, cursing myself for leaving my acrylics laying around on the table everywhere. My muscles were tense under Mingi’s watchful eyes and I bit my lower lip as I was finally able to shove everything inside my tote bag, I had zero intentions of organizing them nicely inside. I was just about to stand up when Mingi’s quiet, deep, voice reached my ears.

“By any chance—are you talking about Jeong Yunho?” The breath was knocked out of my chest as I gaped at Mingi with wide eyes, thoughts whirling fast in my mind. Mingi knows Yunho? How does he know him? What were the chances? I’m fucked.

“Uh, yeah.” I answered quietly before clearing my throat, not expecting Mingi’s eyes to suddenly light up and mouth to pull into the biggest smile I have ever seen on him.

“How do you know him?” He whispered in excitement, leaning forward in his seat. I cleared my throat in discomfort, stalling my answer as I scoffed quietly, trying to look nonchalant with my answer.

“We were sort of friends during highschool.” I answered, my voice void of any emotion as Mingi looked surprised.

“Really?” Mingi muttered before his confused expression morphed into that of an excited one once again, “He’s my best friend. We’ve been friends since childhood, it’s a bit surprising he never mentioned you—or have I forgotten? Yunho was always popular, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he mentioned you and I forgot, because I always had to keep up with all the new names and people. He was quite the charmer during highschool, wasn’t he? Did you know he’s gone to a different city to study?”

“Uh,” I blinked, trying to digest all the new information and Mingi’s change of character. I’ve never seen him so alive before, so excited, and happy like right now. It made me want to blame it on Yunho. He made people feel like this. Whoever had the luck of knowing him would be forever charmed, webbed up by his bright and warm personality. He could make you feel like you were the most special person on Earth, like you were the center of his life. Yunho was a very rare to find person, one you had the luck to meet only once in your lifetime. And if you were lucky enough, perhaps he’d keep you around long enough. Mingi seemed to be that lucky guy as he continued beaming at me, waiting for my answer. But all I could do was focus on the bitter feeling swirling inside my stomach and the quiver of my lips. I wasn’t good enough to keep Yunho around. I lacked what Yunho liked in a person, and yet, here Mingi was, being the epitome of everything Yunho liked. My throat closed in on me at a very sudden realization, I felt like I couldn’t breathe anymore, “Yeah, I did—I didn’t. I—I have to go.”

I didn’t wait to see Mingi’s reaction as I jumped out of my seat and grabbed the coffee mug, gripping it so hard I could’ve broken the carton. I had tunnel vision as I raced out of the library and down the marble stairs, breathing hard with tears in my eyes. I burst through the heavy doors of the main building and ran off, trying to find a somewhat secluded spot on the path as I doubled over, heaving for air.

Song Mingi. Jeong Yunho. I should have known. I should have realized so much sooner, I was such a fucking idiot. My lips quivered as all the memories came back: Yunho’s dashing smile and warm hand as we lay in each other’s arms, his voice low as he whispered about his day. Song Mingi’s name rolling off his tongue effortlessly, face content and eyes glazed over as he recounted everything about their day, about Mingi. He loved the warm breeze; he hated rainy days. He loved going out for walks, he hated staying cooped up in his room all day. He hated playing video games, yet he learned a few just for Yunho. He was allergic to pollen, but he bought his mother a bouquet of flower every Sunday. He was tall and lanky and insecure, so he started working out with Yunho. He hated his glasses because people thought he was a nerd, so he never wore them and his eyesight worsened. Song Mingi, who’s laughter was either silent or too loud, head always thrown back as his eyes turned into slits when he laughed. Song Mingi, who was insecure about his blemishes until Yunho called him the handsomest gal he’d ever seen. Song Mingi, who stopped painting his nails after he was bullied for it. And Mingi, who despite looking intimidating and cold was the sweetest and nicest person Yunho has ever met. There wasn’t a day when Yunho wouldn’t mention Mingi while we were dating, and the fact that Mingi couldn’t even remember if Yunho mentioned me or not, said a lot. It hurt. It felt like a knife was plunged deep inside my chest, twisting and ripping everything apart with its sharp blade. I am over Yunho; everything happened a long time ago. But it was proof, once again, that I have never been someone important in his life. He would never talk about me like he talked about Mingi. I would never mean the world to him…like Mingi meant to him.

『I just wanna love

I just wanna touch

I just wanna see

Something』

❱❱ Next chapter

124 notes · View notes

anoa-eunoia · 1 year

Text

Did it hurt - Tyler Galpin x reader

Smut warning

———

She couldn’t give you a reason as to why she was roaming the woods but there she was wondering around the the dark in that dress she knew he loved. Y/n had known for all to long that Tyler wasn’t who he claimed to be. She could feel it in her bones, he was rotten to the core but so was she.

A Twig cracked and she coulda sworn she felt breath on her neck but she put it down to the paranoia, or better yet The adrenaline of the chase. y/n continued to wonder the woods her hands brushing against the trees as she mistook the slightest noises fior footsteps.

“God, I don't like this.” Y/n whispered to herself. She heard Whispers. She knew it was just the wind with no one to listen but oh how she hoped it was him behind her stalking her like pray. It wasn’t until she found a cave a few miles out that she knew she was on the right tracks but just as she was about to turn back out of the cave she felt and arm around her waist and a hand flew over her mouth

"Don't be scared, Nobody can find us here. my dear.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. She made a pathetic attempt but fight him if but he knew just as much as her that she doesn’t care. Y/n had practically been crawling miles through the woods, for him.

“Get off me.” She whispered trying to be as convincing as she possibly could but Tyler just let out a chuckle spinning her to face him before pushing her against the wall of the cave

“What’s a girl like you doing roaming the woods at this time… don’t you know there’s a killer on the loose?” He teased with that oh so familiar smirk playing on his lips. Y/n rolled her eyes at the sarcasm but all she could think about was the way his hands felt against her skin or how his lips were just inches from her own.

“Maybe I like the thrill.” She told him as his hands moved for her waist to one on her face and the other around her neck. Tyler let out a soft hmm as his fingers traced the freckles across her cheek

“What to do with you?” He said meer seconds before slamming his lips into hers. There wasn’t even a slight hesitation before she kissed him back her arms wrapping around his neck pulling him impossibly close. The second their lips touched she knew she was done for that there was no escaping him. She was his for good.

Y/n was infatuated with Tyler. He was intoxicating. So sweet till he turns around and that’s when you see the Double faces both fighting for the power. Y/n didn’t know which she preferred. She spent every moment she could by his side. Everyone envied how in love they were. Wednesday could have have sworn y/n’s name was Tattooed on Tyler’s heart the way he went on about her when she wasn’t there.

Their love with poison. Intoxicatingly Delicious. But poison.

“What do you mean?” Y/n snapped her head looking over at her boyfriend in the drivers seat of his car. Tyler sighed his hand crawling further up her thigh oh how he loved when she’d get hot headed.

“I didn’t let her die!” He said nonchalantly as he continued to drive which only pissed y/n off more she gripped his hand throwing it off her thigh as she turned her entire body to face him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” She yelled Tyler just sat growing angrier the more she was screaming out her livid lungs. Y/n continued to ramble about how he’d promised he wouldn’t hurt her friends but had somehow hurt Enid while she was wolfed out.

“She got in the way!” he spat but y/n wasn’t having it she just rolled her eyes and continued to cuss the boy out

“Yell at me one more fucking time, y/n!” Tyler snapped only speeding up slightly the anger making him reckless

“You’re a fucking cunt!” She yelled before Tyler brought the car to a sudden halt reaching over to unclip her seatbelt

“Get the fuck out of my Car!” He swung her door open watching as the rain that was pouring splashed all over his dashboard. Y/n looked at him in disbelief and before she even had chance to responded he was pushing her out of the car and speeding away leaving her to walk back to Nevermore in the pouring rain.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Ajax said as y/n stomped into Wednesday and Enid’s room drenched from head to toe. Wednesday was busy cleaning up the scratch Tyler had left on Enid’s thigh to even give y/n a second look while thing grabbed her a towel.

“Shit what happened Enid?” Y/n said completely ignoring Ajax comment not wanting to get into why she looked a state.

“Just a run in with The Hyde… but that’s not important, what’s wrong?” Enid asked and she was the one person y/n couldn’t change the subject from.

“Me and Tyler had an argument so I got out of his car and walked back.” Y/n half told the truth Enid sighed going to get up but being pulled back down by Wednesday

“He’ll be on his way to apologise. He’s so infatuated with you it’s pathetic.” Wednesday said her eyes glancing at y/n for mer seconds.

And she was right. when y/n Finally got back to her own room tyler was already sat on her bed looking at her with his pretty doe eyes ready to grovel.

“I’m sorry doll. I shouldn’t have got so angry with you.” He said as y/n kept up her angry facade walking over to get closet Tyler following behind her. “Come on Baby, look at me.” She sighed before turning to face him pouting slightly

“Im sorry.” He whispered before leaning down to catch her lips in his and she could practically taste the apologies right off his tongue. Tyler pulled away way smiling at her with a Dopey, boyish grin.

“See you just can’t be mad at me, I’m irresistible.” He joked

“Shut up and touch me” she said and he immediately obeyed his hands coming under her shirt pulling it off the the process to reveal her bare chest

“Fuck.” He barely let the word slip out before he was pushing her onto her bad as his mouth latched around her left nipple sucking and nipping at it while his hand came to the opposite Brest massaging it. She let out an almost pornographic moan just at the slightest of touch which onto enticed him more. Her hands were gripping his biceps as he made work of her

“God you’re so sensitive.” He groaned watching as her eyes rolled back into her head before he began placing soft kisses down her body stopping just above the waist band of her shorts he didn’t waist anymore time before ripping her underwear off

“Asshole they’re my favourite.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He said stripping himself off before he lined himself up with her entrance before he sank into her both of them gasping at the feeling. “fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned. She was appreciative of his slow thrusts her constant wines were evident of that.

Tyler brought his hand to her mouth shoving two of his fingers into her mouth “As much as I love hearing my name from that pretty little mouth of yours you gotta keep quite or everyone is gonna hear.” He said stifling a moan himself she nodded her legs wrapping around his waist pulling him closer as his hips rocked back and forth

“Fuck, y/n.” He groaned in her ear as she clenched around him. His free hand moving from her mouth and wrapping around her throat squeezing slightly as his hips moved faster

“Fuck Ty… I’m close.” She managed biting her lips to stop herself from screaming out

“You're close, huh Doll? You gonna cum all over my cock like the good girl you are?" Each one of his words brings her closer and closer to the edge, and all it takes is his thumb massaging against her clit to push her over. Everything goes tight. She cry out a high-pitched moan, whispering Romans name over and over because it's the only word She can manage to say. She clench hard around his cock, but his pace never slows which makes the pleasure almost painful. Her thighs are trembling where they're wrapped around his torso and her hands curl into the sheets.

“God you look so pretty like that.” His thrusts start to grow uneven and His breaths become sharp as he snaps his hips against hers until finally he releases a strained moan from low in his throat and stills inside her, spilling his cum into her. His head drops to the crook of her neck momentarily pressing light kisses over the marks he’d previously left. He pulled out of her rolling onto his back next to her.

“Did it hurt?” Y/n said breathlessly looking over at him

“Did what hurt?”

“when you fell from heaven, just for me?” Tyler laughed as he got up from her bed leaning down to kiss her softly

“It'll hurt worse if you leave.”

And that’s when she knew she was going to love him till she lost her mind.

#wednesday x tyler #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #wednesday season 1 #wednesday netflix

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loserboy-futterman · 30 days

Note

Hey,hi! If possible could I request a Derek Danforth x bottom male reader (smut if it’s not a problem) story where Reader is a spy sent to gain Derek trust and obtain information about the last scandal that happened but ends up falling under Derek charm? Thanks <3

Derek Danforth x Male!Reader

A/N: thank you sm for giving me my first request on this account, there for christening it with smut. Enjoy! also this was so fun to write and i made reader like an fbi agent, i hope thats alright<3

-Wolf in Sheep's clothing-

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning!! 18+ content ahead!! Gay porn ahead!!

includes; rimming, degrading, praise, anal sex, skimpy outfits

This was already a nightmare.

You were a detective, a man of law and justice. Someone who took down the bad guys and saved the day! A man that could be trusted to keep you safe.

But today? Today you were a 'dancer' at a sleezy night club. How does that happen you may ask? All thanks to billionaire brat, Derek Danforth.

Your mission was to get close to Derek and get him vulnerable, get him to tell you his secrets and expose his company. Then, destroy him and throw him behind bars. Should be easy enough. If only.

You adjusted the entirely too small tube top you had on and tried to pull the tiny shorts down so your junk wasn't almost popping out. Huffing, you set your eyes on the night club, scanning the dark room as you tried to find Derek's famous blonde mullet. It was hard to see anything with all the people, so you began moving swiftly through the crowd, scanning tables and booths. Trying to get a glance at everyone without drawing too much attention. You make your way through most of the club until he's there. You spot Derek sitting at a booth in a far corner of the club, sprawled out to take up half the space. Surprisingly, he's more alone then you initially thought he'd be. Instead of being surrounded by beautiful men and women, he's only got his number two by his side. The two are talking in hushed whispers when you walk up to the booth and slide in, sitting right up against Derek.

"Lookin' awfully lonely over here gentlemen, care for some company?" You could vomit at how high and bubbly your voice sounded, completely foreign to how you usually talk.

Derek's assistant was the first one of the pair to look up at you, clearly uncomfortable with another person around during their sensitive conversation. "No, no- thanks." He muttered quickly, trying to wave you off as he shifted in his seat, trying not to look at your scandalous outfit.

"I wasn't really asking you." Your attention is on Derek, whom, has been looking at his phone until now. His head picks up when he starts to feel you scoot closer to him. His dark eyes trace down your form quickly, making you feel even more exposed.

Derek lean his body towards you before wrapping his arm around your hip, pulling you tight against him. "He can stay, gimme something to look at." Derek leans down to you, giving you a shark-like grin and looking deep in your eyes. He stayed there for a moment as you stiffened under his gaze. You could slap him, but instead you wrap your arms around his neck and smile. "Don't let me interrupt your conversation then."

This is working out perfectly! You knew Derek would be an easy target.

Derek gave you a lazy grin as he pulled away and hit his vape. He blew a few clouds that smelt awful before turning back to the other man, who was frankly, very upset by your presence. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he liked Derek.

"How much are we bringing in?" Derek broke the tense silence as he rolled his head to look at him. The man tensed and you focused your eyes on Derek's hair as you played with it, trying to convince them you weren't listening, only here to jump Derek's bones.

"48." He said stiffly, eyeing you suspiciously. This answer seemed to only upset Derek though as he took a harsh hit of his vape and barked at his employee.

"48 what? Thousand? Million?! Don't fuck with my money!"

Derek's aggressive behavior was a little surprising but not completely unexpected. You had read in his file he was prone to anger spouts, especially when he was high. You decided to use this to your advantage to drive Derek further into your arms.

You began by carding your fingers through his soft hair and whispering soft coos in his ear to calm him down. His chest rises and falls heavily and you seem to cut through his drug-addled mind.

"T-thousand Derek." He replied nervously, shifting uncomfortably as he watched you two.

If Derek was upset before, now he was full of rage. He clenched his jaw tight and his grip around you was almost bruising. Derek let out a deep sigh and glared at his business partner. Even you felt a little shudder run down your spine at the intimidation.

"Go." Derek growled and his partner was quick to scurry off and out of sight. You can't help but let out a laugh as he leaves but Derek's quick to turn his glare on you. "What's so funny?"

"Well, your friend is kind of pathetic." You reply simply with another laugh and it seems to actually lighten Derek up. He chuckles himself and puts on a casual mask even though you can tell he's still tense. His leg is bouncing and you're surprised his vape hasn't exploded yet from over use.

"He really is." Derek tilts his head back and you let your eyes trace down his neck. You can't deny he's handsome but you know what he does and he has no remorse. You clench your jaw and throw a bare leg over his lap. He's quick to run his calloused hand up and down your smooth calf.

"So what do you do, hm? Making millions?" You ask with fake innocence and curiosity. Derek keeps his eyes on the hand stroking your leg like he's mesmerized. Drugs, you think.

Finally he shrugs and looks at you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen them. "I run a software company." He smirks and leans in closer to you, nuzzling his nose and face close into your neck. The sudden closer contact makes you flush and you want to push him away but it's for your job. And maybe, it felt kind of nice to feel Derek's warm breath fan over your neck. "I wanna know about you. You charge?"

You simple shrug and shake your head at him. "No. I'm just here for a good time. Although, a quieter place would be nice." You need to get more information, you need to get him alone and you can snoop around his house.

Derek pulls back from your neck and eyes you for a long moment, trying to decipher your intentions. After a moment, he slowly nods and smiles. "Let's go baby boy." Derek stands (stumbles) up and you follow him up and out of the club. His driver is waiting outside and you both crawl into the back of his limo.

The quiet feels like a breath of fresh air until you remember you're now alone with Derek Danforth, your target. You're both sitting close in the limo but Derek's mind seems to be elsewhere entirely. He's chewing his nails and glaring out the window, clearly stuck in his own head.

"Are you.. okay?" You ask sweetly, causing Derek to look at you and snap back to the present. He shakes his head and grabs your hand.

"Fine sugar. Just worried about my Bitcoin stock is all." Derek grunted out, shifting closer to you, clearly needing more physical touch.

You needed to get him to open up and stop giving these vague answers, even giving plain lies. "You can tell me anything Derek. I won't tell. My trade is in secrets." You cup his cheeks and make him look deep into your eyes.

Derek seems to think about his answer for a long moment before finally the dam breaks. "My stupid company isn't making enough money, even though I trained those stupid fucks myself." He suddenly growls, clenching his fists tight.

Finally, he was cracking. "How come they're not making enough?" You tilt your head and watch him go to reply but the limo comes to a stop and it seems you've arrived at his apartment.

Derek's quick to pull you upstairs to his penthouse apartment and it's absolutely stunning. He pulls you in and makes his way towards the dry bar in the living room. You watch as he pours a shot of expensive whiskey and shoots it. He immediately makes a face and you snicker at him behind your hand.

He glares at you but it doesn't hold much malice. Derek rounds the bar and stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist and leans down close. You can smell the whiskey on his breath but it's almost enticing, instead of gross like usual. "Okay Mr. Chuckles. Tell me your secrets then." He smirks down at you, making your cheeks heat up.

"Well Derek... My secret is..." You lean in closer to him, almost closing the gap but stopping an inch away. "... I think your kinda cute." You admit and it really was true.

Derek is quick to quirk his eyebrow and give you his usual sarcasm. "Just cute? Are you sure?" His voice is filled with confidence and before you know it, he closes the gap between you, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. It seemed Derek didn't know how to go slow or be gentle because he immediately kissed you hard and bit down on your bottom lip.

You know you shouldn't be making out with Derek Danforth but it was all for the mission, to get closer and get more information out of him. It definitely didn't have to do with the growing erection in your tiny shorts. Derek bruised and bit at your lips, sliding his hands down until they rested on the waistline of the small shorts.

Derek was the first to pull away but he still kept his mouth busy as he trailed kissed down your jaw and to your neck. "Jump." Its a simple command but it takes your brain a moment to register through the haze. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around Derek's hips and tangling your arms around his neck. The new position let Derek control the situation as he started to bite harder on your neck, leaving distinct marks. Not that you minded in this moment.

"So fuckin' pretty baby. Cute little outfit too, you okay if i ruin it?" Derek rasped in your ear and bit your earlobe softly. The deep rumble of his voice made you shiver and you chewed on your lip, contemplating if letting Derek fuck you was a good idea. What would you put in your official report? It was getting harder to think as Derek kept working on your neck and moved to push you against the wall, grinding his hips against yours. His green silk pants left nothing to the imagination when he got hard. You groaned softly and dropped your head back against the wall as Derek ground his hips harder. "Well baby? Wont do anything without a yes. Not that you need to say yes."

Derek was now looking at you with those big puppy dog eyes and you could tell he was being genuine. You decide you need more information and this is how to do it. You lean in and capture his lips again, bucking against his own hips and savoring the whine he lets out.

"Ruin it Derek." You mumble against his lips, making him moan loudly. He pushed you harder into the wall, supporting you with his hips and legs so his hands were free to literally rip off the thin tube top you had on. Your nipples pebbled at the cold air and you hissed softly but it trailed into a moan when Derek's warm mouth was on you. He sucked and licked at one pec, fondling the other as he moaned almost more than you were.

You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair and tugged him closer, earning you a high pitched whimper. Derek's hand trailed down your chest and to your stomach, groping it softly before sliding down to grab your cock that's straining the tiny shorts.

"Maybe if i tease you a little more, you'll break these sorry excuse for shorts." He chuckled cruelly and grabbed your cock tight making you whine and squirm in his grip.

"Derek, please." It felt so good but it wasn't enough, far from it and it was driving you insane and he knew it.

"What? What do you want baby? Want me to fuck you until you cry huh? Fuckin slut." Derek hissed the name at you but it made you shiver. You hated how he was talking to you but you fucking loved it, you hated that fact too. His words dripped with cruelty and lust.

You felt so tense and you needed him so much. "Yes!" You surprised yourself with that scream and you shifted your hips against him hard. Derek smirked and grabbed your hips tight to still your movements. He took you to his bed and dropped you on the plush mattress as he stood before you. He quickly tore off his shirt and whipped off his pants, clearly just as desperate as you.

Derek quickly crawled back over you and kissed your chest, leaving hickeys and bruises as his hands hold your hips tight against his. The new skin on skin contact makes fire run through your veins and everywhere Derek touched seemed to be more sensitive than ever.

In a flash, Derek had flipped you on to your stomach and hiked up your ass to meet his cock that was leaking through his Calvin Klein boxers. He growled low in his throat and slid his hips against yours before finally pulling your shorts off and freeing your painfully hard cock. You hissed at how sensitive it was but didn't have time to focus on that as Derek's finger tips prodded gently at your hole. He leaned over your back to whisper in your ear.

"You look so good baby... Mind if I have a taste?" His voice dripped with pure lust.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice and not exactly understanding what he meant until you felt something warm and wet against your hole. You gasped and looked back to meet Derek's dark eyes as he licked and lathered your hole.

"D-Derek!" You shuddered again as Derek winked before plunging his tongue as deep into your hole as he can, rapidly fucking you with his mouth. You cry out and your cock drips pre-cum on the bed like a fountain, showing you were close.

He grabs your ass tight in both hands, pulling away with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. He looked like a hungry predator as he wiped his face with his hand and stood up behind you. Derek grabs your hips tight and leans his sweaty chest against your back, pushing you further into the bed.

"You're perfect baby boy. Might just have to keep you." He mumbled into your neck, wrapping one arm around your chest as he angled his cock and began sliding into your wet hole. You panted and whined at the stretch as his head slides in. Derek's hips stop but its clear he's struggling to hold back in a failing attempt to keep teasing you.

"Fuck! I-I cant- i need to fucking ruin you now."

That's all the warning you got before Derek's hips are slamming into yours, shoving his cock all the way inside you and punching the air out of your lungs. Derek cant stop himself from rutting and bucking his hips against you already but every movement feels too good. You moan out and grab the sheets tight in your fists as Derek works his cock in and out of you faster and harder.

He wasn't kidding about ruining you as his hand on your chest wrapped softly around your throat, not applying pressure but it still made your eyes roll back. Especially as he desperately pistoned his hips inside of you, grazing your prostate every so often, making you see spots. Derek panted and moaned in your ear, a mix of praise and degrading words falling from his lips.

"That's it. Fuck yeah, so tight baby."

"Such a hungry fuckin whore f'me."

"Fuuuck, baby, yes, god fuck-!"

You felt your end approaching fast as Derek kept moving and his moans turned to high whines and whimpers, showing he was close too. His pace grew sloppy and your cock rubbed against the bed, making you finally see white and arch your back in the most toe-curling orgasm you've had in a long time.

Derek's let out the sweetest moan when you tightened around him and it was impossible for him not to spill his load inside of you. He gave a few more hard thrusts until he was collapsing against you and panting hard. You grunted under his weight but you didn't attempt to move after that.

"Stay with me?" Derek's gruff voice broke the silence as he nuzzled his nose into your neck again.

You nodded and shifted slightly under him. It seemed this mission would take longer than expected but you don't mind so much.

Derek kissed your shoulder lightly. "Sounds good... Officer."

Shit.

#derek danforth #derek danforth x male reader #derek danforth smut #derek danforth x reader #the beekeeper

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2aceofspades · 6 months

Note

Trick or treat! It's fanfic anon, here to drop off a treat for you! Rereading Wrong Fabricated Time Branch has me feeling things and I wrote this little magnetic duo thing-

---

Cassandra didn't come back.

Between Casey Junior, the entire rest of the Resistance, and trying and failing to be there for his family, Leo barely had time for himself. Heh, what was a little less time for himself when there was the rest of the world to take care of?

So then, Leo found himself caring for a child that wasn't his; said child sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. That part was fine, not at all stressful. With that child loosely swaddled in his own scarf, he paced around the room as he briefly (and quietly) laid out the plans for the next resource raid. His energy waned, his vision blurring and his words turning into white noise. His steps grew more haggard, but standing or sitting still wouldn't feel right either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leo noticed a familiarly large silhouette walk past the open door. No, not quite walking past; more like walking towards. He merely nodded to address the other presence, not quite recognising who was standing there until he dismissed the rest a few minutes later.

The moment the last member left the room, Leo identified the closest horizontal surface, set Casey Junior on a chair, and immediately collapsed onto the hard wooden table.

"Leo?"

Leo could only groan in response, recognition finally taking root in his mind. He turned his head away from the source of the sound, groaning. He just wanted his two minutes of table time before the next team went in.

"Leo. It's important, we need'a talk."

Despite the fatigue in his bones, Leo sat up (yes, on the table) to face the snapping turtle. Oof, the big guy was getting blurrier than he remembered, but he assumed he looked focused enough to "make eye contact".

"What is it? News on Cass? Missing resources? Someone lost their kid?"

"Not that."

"Then what?"

There was silence, and Raph's glare (Leo's assuming) was piercing enough. Be it a result of their odd ability to mind meld or something similar, Leo knew Raph wasn't here to talk about the Resistance.

The slider sighed, "Then it isn't important."

Leo couldn't quite see the expression on Raph's face change, but there was a shift in the tension of the room. "Leo. Everyone can see it. You need rest."

"Wha-hat?" Leo sounded way too surprised for it to be funny, but he had to make an attempt at levity, "You think I'm tired? Are you mistaking me for Donnie?"

Raph didn't even pause. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Uh-" He stifled the way his words began to slur.

"Or the last time you had more than five minutes for yourself?"

"Well-" He fought his faltering vision.

"Or the last time we talked about stuff that doesn't concern the Resistance?"

"Come on, that isn't fair!" He knew Raph was mad, but it wouldn't be the first time.

"Tell me."

The leader could nearly feel the glare on the other. He could only cross his arms, stopping himself from curling in on himself. Falling back into old habits wouldn't help anyone.

"Hey! I'm saving the world, right?" The slider tried to stop himself from sounding accusatory, but it came out targeted anyway, "Fixing my mistakes, making the right sacrifices, being a hero?"

"Listen to me-"

"We're doing better now than we were before; who cares if it takes a few all-nighters-"

"Leo-"

"I'm getting results!"

"Raph just wants his brother back!"

His vision blurred even more, cold streaks going down his face as the weight of those words sunk in. No, they didn't sink; Raph threw those words like bricks and Leo could only shatter like glass.

"You're the only one we barely see."

Leo let himself curl into a ball, holding his knees up to his plastron. He wanted to feel like a child again, but that wasn't what he deserved.

"Always busy talking to other members, never letting the rest of us help with Casey, always throwing yourself headfirst into danger when someone else was at risk," Raph muttered that last part, and Leo sunk his head into his shell, "You may be the leader, but Raph's still the oldest. I want to know what's going on with you."

It took a moment for Leo to construct a word, let alone the sentence. He made an attempt at speech, only for it to come out a defeated chirp.

Raph must've made a face, even if Leo could barely see it. He first heard the click of a door closing shut, then the softness of fabric against his wet eyes and cheeks. "Raph's sorry for yelling."

"Chhrrr..." (It was deserved.)

Raph didn't understand. Maybe much to Leo's benefit. "But please just listen to Raph for once... I won't leave you alone, none of us will. We're in this together, 'kay?"

"Erp..." (No promises.)

A pause.

"Can Raph hug you?" Leo paused, but nodded. He leaned forward and fell into a familiar embrace. Unconsciously, he found himself sinking into the warmth the other provided, melting like a cat in a container.

Strong, secure, safe, even when the apocalypse outside raged on. For once, he'll allow himself this one comfort.

GAH-

You...you can't do this to me okay???

THIS IS CANON NOW OKAY YEAH THIS HAPPENED-

I couldn't stop myself...

It...it was just too vivid in my mind 🥲

#ace answers #acey doodles #dude #when i tell you...i was in shock #😳#i love all of this so much you don't even know #gaaahh 😭😭#don't look at me i...i need a minute or two or three #:')

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sukunasun · 1 year

Note

could we get mma!geto fics

deep sigh...

geto suguru doesn't mind getting up close and personal—but only when it comes to the fighting of course.

says he likes to see the pain and anger simmer in their eyes with every swing he throws, every punch that feels more like a bite. amidst the bloodied knuckles and broken bones, his body, his being becomes a weapon, like there's a beast housed in there. an unstoppable force. nothing holds him down, not an iron cage or the fear of loss, of death. so capable and equipped, not to win but to kill. he picks them apart by their weakest points, precise and powerful, striking where it'll hurt the most and leaving no traces but broken hearts and bruised egos behind.

"he's more than just a fighter," you say, with clenched fists and passion-flamed eyes, "in one word, geto's kinda...legendary," so enthused, so enamoured. it's not your biased heart talking here because you're an expert at these things.

although you wouldn't call yourself a fan when devotee sounds more accurate given the countless hours you've dedicated to research and impulse buying—scrolling through wiki pages, analyzing old interviews, watching late-night matches on a glitchy livestream, catching a tiny glimpse of his figure from a shitty seat in a stadium, or buying an ugly t-shirt from his online store when the one made by a fan artist is cheaper and looks way better in your opinion—still, you'll do it now and again because he isn't like everyone else, he is a perfect being, untouchable, you'll love him from afar like this, settling for whatever bit of scraps you can get hoping to get closer, and yet...

"you don't know me," geto simply says when he's come face-to-face with you. well, technically he's looking down at you from where he stands tall, heads above you. he's every bit as handsome as you'd expect, the kind no injury or scar could hide. you think to say something, gush over him, the man of your dreams in the flesh, a long-awaited meeting now realized but it's all too much.

his sweat-glistened skin, his flushed cheeks, the soft panting breaths, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and the way he ever so gently flicks his hair away, not to mention that dripping line of red that seeps from his nostril shouldn't make him look as sexy as he does, something about a bruised and bleeding man practically makes you swoon. oh how you'd always dreamed of this image, your imagination supplied you with multiple scenarios of him atop you and most preferably inside you too.

to be this close to him, so close you could reach out and touch. but a bigger girl always takes the temperature of a room before walking into it, only now you've made the crucial mistake of forgetting where you are, and who exactly could be listening. "um...i didn't mean–" your eyes scan across a sea of judgemental eyes taking you in, contempt written all over their faces. there's a heat pooling in your eyes, a lump caught in your throat, visibly constipated would be the word to describe it, but geto doesn't feel pity for you.

instead, his expression contorts into scorn, rolls his eyes at your desperate attempt to explain when you're choking on your words and flittering around like a headless chicken. he must think you're so awkward, so lame, just another one of those people with nothing better to do with their lives. "you should leave, you're taking up space," he says, pushing past you with a shove like you were merely a nuisance to him, your shoulder bumping into his torso. but it doesn't hurt honestly, not as much as the disappointment, the humiliation he's left you with.

——————————————————

back home, you dismantle the shrine. an altar made with the labour of love, and many long nights spent crafting this holy site. suguru is a name you can't look at the same way, now riddled with sour definitions. mean, rude, arrogant, and all the synonyms bundled into one. suddenly, the pictures on your wall stare back at you differently, geto and his camera-ready poses, in designer pieces, perfectly curved happy smiles and sultry smirks turning against you. "he brushed me off like i was nobody, like i was nothing," you sniffle.

with shaky hands, you tear them down hastily, omitting to start from the corners or to roll them back into tube containers. making it quick so it'll hurt less, like tearing a bandaid off. "psh, taking up space..." you shake your head in disbelief, "what a fucking asshole."

stuffing the bins with crumpled magazines and the journal entries you were enthusiastic about, another collage you've put together, the pencil writings have faded, laser stickers peeled from the edges. however, the binders and photo cards have been kept well, pristine even, and you consider if there are notes and letters you wrote to him tucked into the spine, believing you'd send them someday, but you refuse to keep them.

flipping through, you can't help but cringe at the thought of a man being this famous as an athlete. you understand sponsorships and brand deals, but turning into a celebrity, a commodity...maybe it was an act all along, a persona he's crafted. there was no underestimating the man's capabilities, the ease and precision with which he strikes a punch or spews cutting words are unmatched, why would it be different when it came to your first meeting.

"you've idolized him, it was a parasocial relationship at most..." you say. given the circumstances or the 'end of an era,' as you've put it, there'd be no other way to comfort yourself but with the hard truth.

and it shouldn't feel this...hollow. an empty space left behind without any notice, like it ended too abruptly. you'd always known the phase would come to a close, but you had pictured meeting him at the end of an aisle, twirling in his arms under heavy rain, or a bittersweet goodbye at an airport maybe. anything resembling a whirlwind romance that would replace the daydreaming. anything but this.

people meet all the time, people fall in love, was it too much to believe you'd be one of them. and you tell yourself you'll get over him, it wasn't meant to be anyway, what did you expect, that he'd see you and fall in love? you wouldn't know any different, the closest you ever got to love was...obsession really, he was never a real person to you. "all this for a man who never knew i existed." you're sure wherever suguru is, he'd be absolutely fine, happy even, and not the least bit gutted about what he'd done.

——————————————————

the rest of geto's day plays out like usual—he fights, he wins, then tends to the nosebleed. nowhere in those allocated time slots for cryotherapy and post-match interviews does he think about you. or the way your eyes fell. or that he instantly regretted it the moment he left you standing there.

across the gym, nanako calls from where she sits on a boxing ring, "that wasn't nice, papa!" perching her head against ropes, her legs swing off the edge. beside her, mimiko nods in agreement, cuddling her dolly closer to her chest, "you were being mean..." she mumbles. the sandbag crushes and swings to the rhythmic, muffled beats of bandaged fists meeting leather. resounding, familiar, enough to tune out the disappointed tone in their voices.

his punches come to a halt, "i know," he sighs exasperatedly. pressing his forehead to the sleeve and watching the sweat pool by his feet. drip, drip, he takes a deep breath in. willing himself to think of something else, anything that could ease the tightness in his chest, the grinding of his teeth. the guilt that bubbles up becomes unbearable, itchy and prickling all over his skin. heat creeping up his neck, to his ears, he's embarrassed, ashamed. he should know better, he'd been better. a part of him grieves, long gone were the days of geto suguru and his straight As and pressed uniforms, always thanking the teachers and using honorifics in between.

geto learns that he doesn’t react to it as smoothly as he would like—your wobbling lips and puffed up cheeks, teary eyes shining, lashes clumping with tears, an expression he can't seem to forget, like your world was crumbling before your very eyes—he knew it was wrong, knew you were vulnerable and he did it anyway.

when was the last time he got this hung up over a couple of badly chosen words, all for some fangirl? you've got him giving away easy hits and fucking up his game-plan, ruminating. he's supposed to be training, working on his form, looking up the next guy he's meant to beat to a pulp and analyze his moves, all that and eating these tiny meals he abhors, the ones made up of bland chicken breast and broccoli.

bottom line, he's meant to brush these things off as he always does. but the urge to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness is almost as strong as the urge to punch something. he only settles for the latter because geto never gets on his knees, and he never begs, the thought alone is enough to send a shiver down his spine, why does he even think of it as an option.

"she got to me didn't she?" is less of a question, and more of an admission but the twins giggle as if they know he's already done for.

——————————————————

geto sits across from you at a crepe place a week later. famous for its strawberry sauce and the whipped cream they make from scratch, it's a good choice for a first date spot. the tables are covered in red and white checkered linen, there's an upbeat pop tune playing in the background, and sitting right between the two of you is a centerpiece made up of fresh daffodils.

but this isn't a date. there's nothing romantic or intimate about it and how he's even managed to find you is still a mystery let alone what his intentions are with choosing such a scene. "my daughters like this place," is the only explanation you get.

he's wearing what can only be described as undercover chic. greeted you by the door dressed in black head to toe. along with sunglasses and a face mask, but the earrings give him away. well, that along with the cut on his lip and the stitches over his eyebrow. "you got my letter," he merely states, without a 'hello' or 'thanks for meeting me on such short notice'. he doesn't mention why he's sent actual mail to your office instead of texting or calling like a normal person—how easy it was for you to recognize those familiar black inky lines scribing a time and place on paper with zoo animals decorating the edges—you might have ignored it, reported it, if not for the part of you that wholeheartedly gives into him, the infatuation still hasn't worn off.

"so um," clearing his throat and keeping his voice low, geto's arms fold across his chest. it makes him look too big for his seat, bulky and broad, "about what happened the other day—" he chokes out.

"it's fine," you cut him off immediately. the last thing you need right now is to be reminded of it. took forever to wash away the embarrassment, to scrub off the eerie feeling of his dismissive gaze, his cold stare, a shining vaseline-lined face that would forever haunt you the rest of your days. "i don't even remember it," you wait for him to continue but he just..sits there.

head tilting curiously, suddenly interested. "not even the part about me being...what was it you said...legendary?" he teases, laughing to himself. it sounds lovely, bright and clear. almost so good you think he's rehearsed it but you know it's just another one of those things geto does, that adds to his charm.

your cheeks puff up as you chew, the jam is sweet and so are the little slices of fruit. you munch and chew, growing annoyed by the second, "it's not that funny," you mumble.

geto brushes off your offended expression, "relax, it's nothing i haven't heard before, let me guess—you love me, you're my number one fan, and you want to ride me and have my babies," he lifts an eyebrow, a self-satisfied smirk appearing.

your fist clenches tight around your fork, "y-you don't know that for sure, in fact, you don't know me at all."

geto scoffs, actually scoffs in your face, "i know what you're like, you're just another groupie who wants to get close."

"groupie?!" you exclaim, "as if i'd ever sleep with you after the way you've treated me—" your nose turns up at him, anger flaring up to the max, "i wouldn't want to be chucked around and felt up anyway, besides, you wouldn't be able to," you lie again, throwing the final jab to his overinflated ego for effect, to put him in his place. now emboldened by fury, by the urge to prove him wrong.

you're so loud the other customers turn their heads, somewhere in the back a plate drops to the floor, the shock is evident. mainly because of how explicit you're being but....anyone would be crazy to think so. to say such a thing. how blasphemous. suguru is so physically strong that he forgets not everyone can split wooden blocks into halves with their bare hands like it were the easiest thing, hooking sandbags up to a rig with one arm, you've seen him breaking doors down with a mere shove in movies, and how could you ever forget that one picture of him holding two litre water bottles in his hand and having it look so out of proportion, dwarfed by their massive size.

there's no doubt about it, not only could geto lift and toss you around like a ragdoll, feeling you up any way he desires, but it would be effortless.

he starts grinning, "is that a challenge?" geto quips, smirking and suddenly interested in the half-eaten crepe. he gives it a once over, lightly jabbing it with his fork. contemplates if he should try it when he's been off sugar for years but maybe he'll make an exception now. he could always just burn the calories later, maybe do an extra sparring session with gojo over the weekend, but just for the occasion, he thinks he could indulge a little because he makes a decision then.

"i like you, we should do this more often," he shoots you a look that isn't like the rest. assured, demanding, knowing you wouldn't deny him. "any objections?" leaning forward he cuts himself a piece of the pastry, lapping up every last bit of jam before he stabs at a large chunk of berry. taking a big bite of it, your eyes widen at the instant blush blooming on his cheeks because he more than likes it, in fact, he keeps at it til there's none left.

#wanted to make this one a slow burn ...#mma geto is the ice cream i have a lock on ... precious!#let me know if you wanna read more mma geto!#ask #anon #sunpiece #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #geto suguru #geto suguru hcs #geto x reader #mma geto #mma au #chubby reader #geto x chubby reader #jjk chubby reader fic

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

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just a lil blurb req/idea if you're up for it hehe. Kylian or Taylor giving the other a massage bc either Taylor was so hard on him at practice or Kylian and the boys were absolutely chaotic making it hard for Taylor at practice.

If you wanna read Tay giving Kylian a massage than go to this story by @okayymochi bc it's golden. Lemme try giving you an other version. This one can also be set on the actual timeline, a day after the bathroom scene (maybe).

New Romantics — blurb: massage

"even Marquinhos was a pain in the ass today." She exclaimed, shutting the fridge's door with a bang, causing a mini earthquake in the Kylian's kitchen. She was holding two eggs on her hands. Kylian watched as she continued her outburst that he had been listening to ever since he got to his apartment, rolling his eyes at some of her comments but letting her go on because she wasn't all that wrong. "What are we? Fucking kindergarten pranking your teacher because you're bored? And all day you had that smug ass grin on your face--” she broke one of the eggs on the pan in the most aggressive way he had ever seen her do it and he knew that part of her was imagining knocking his head the same way. "Whose idea even was it? Your fucking nephew? Bet not he's more mature than half of you!” she broke the second egg even harder, making step back in fear that he'd throw it on him if she had the chance.

Taylor used the spatula to move the eggs on the pan, taking her anger out on them "SHIT!!!” She yelled when a bit of the oil spilled on her hand and burned her skin. She stepped back, throwing the spatula on the counter out of instinct and groaning in annoyance. Meanwhile Kylian was covering his mouth so he wouldn't show his smile or start laughing. "Stupid fucking oil" she snapped.

"need your whistle?"

She turned around, snatching on one of towels and throwing it to face him "shut the fuck up!” she shouted. Turning back to her eggs "don't even look at me right now." She focused on the eggs, keeping the rest of the words for herself. She was so tense, she could feel it on every part of her body, every inch of her skin and her chest felt heavy with anger--

His hands on her shoulder, a gentle but firm squeeze on her bones that felt like someone was trying to unlock her. she tensed a little, almost moving away from him but his grip remained on her to keep her close. He repeated the same movements, his thumb making most of the work on her back as she slowly started to give in, leaning on him so his perfume would add to the experience. Then his lips on the side of her neck, he didn't over do it, just two kisses on either side, so any last thoughts of pushing him away would disappear abd he continued massaging her, unlocking her, untangling her from her thoughts. He moved his thumbs to back of her neck, pushing her downwards and working with the nerves that run up to her head. "If i get burning oil in my eye I'm gonna murder you." She hummed and he laughed, that loud laugh of his that some described as obnoxious. He removed his hand from her and turned off the kitchen, pulling her away by her arms-- "my eggs--"

"I'll make you better ones." he sat her down on one of the stools on his kitchen. She attempted to slap his hands away and get up again but he stood in front of her, his hands coming up to her shoulders again as he pressed on the same spots. Only difference was she could look at his eyes while he was doing that, and if his touch wasn't enough to untangle her, his look did it for her. He thumbs moved up to her neck and the space behind her ears, she closed her eyes as she let him do his magic, her mouth staying shut. She leaned back on his hold, in the way his hands cupped her entire face, playing with her hair and nerves like she was instrument. He couldn't help but smile at how fragile she looked in front of him now, how light and small and how much control he could have over her without that affecting her independence because he knew she'd be back whistling in an hour. He enjoyed making her feel like this, he enjoyed seeing her give in to him. It even turned him on.

He lowered his face to her, his fingers continuing with their task. "Better?” he whispered, his lips stroking her cheek as he spoke and she let a hum in response. He grinned, clicking his lips and giving her an actual kiss on the cheek while his hands moved to cup her cheeks and hold her still as he connected his lips with hers, apologizing in the best way he knew how.

"your punishment for tomorrow stands" she said among the kisses, making him laugh and nod, biting on her bottom lip.

"so strict."

She reached for hips, bringing him closer to her, while her legs circled around his. "You were asshole today."

"would you believe me if i said it was Ney's idea?" He hands went back to her shoulders, repeating he previous movements as he could feel her tensing up again. He walked around her and slipped his hands under shirt to have better contant. She shivered when she felt his skin on hers, the warmth was too much for her coldness. He started from her lower back, moving up to her shoulders again, taking his time with every knot on her body he'd bump on, until he went so high, he pulled her shit asking for permission to take it off. At which point Taylor was too hypnotized to speak so she just gave him a note and he took it off. Leaving her only with her sports bra and continuing on his mission to untie every single one of her worries from her bones and everytime he'd untie one, he'd kiss the skin over where it used to be. All the way to her neck againz where the kisses started getting more sloppy, more sexual, open mouthed and heated until she completely leaned her head on him, letting him kiss away her skin. Suck on her skin like it was heroine. She twisted her head, searching for those lips that'd leave a mark there, searching for them so she could thank them because on the pitch she'd be the meanest bitch to him she could be, that washer job, he was an athlete, she was his coach. But in his kitchen, they were just humans.

The kiss deepened in seconds, their tastes familiar to each other, access wide open for one another without having to ask. He picked her up by her thighs, she tight them around him. He smiled against her lips "wanna do the rest?"

"mhm" she smiled.

#newromanticsfic #mbappe x reader #mbappe imagines

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d1ssenter-be-damned · 8 months

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*opens trenchcoat to reveal several pamphlets with fic tropes on them* What kind of nicities might you be interested in Tumblr user error-is-bae? `<•##>3

well hello there anonymous tumblr user that im fairly certain is one of two people.

listen man i know everyone and their dog has written a fic where gabriel atones for the errors of his ways by throwing himself into rebuilding lust w minos. but i cannot get the concept out of my head

every interp ive seen thus far has minos be angry, yes, but i dont think hes been angry enough. i want him to break. i want him to tear into gabriel like a rabid fucking beast. i want him to grab him by the throat and throw him to the floor hard enough shards of concrete get lodged in his lungs. i want gabriel to scramble back instinctively because he knows hes no match for a prime soul, especially not without his Light but he's not fast enough and then Minos grabs him again and he can't breathe--

and i want him to just go limp. to accept his fate. and minos just gets angrier because he wants him to fight, he wants to revel in the feeling of his bones crunching and listening to him scream but it's not satisfying if he doesnt fight back and he did not waste away in that god forsaken prison watching everything he'd worked so hard to achieve (peacefully! he never wanted a fight, he wanted to thrive, he tried to reason--) be torn down by his own withered hands only for gabriel to rob him of what little gratification he could receive as if he hadn't already taken everything from him. i want him to roar "why won't you fight me?!" as he lifts gabriel by his collar. he wants to see the spirit that gabriel had before (when they were colleagues, friends even, when they would spend their time debating philosophy and literature and enjoying being together), wants to watch it break under his fists--

(and he thinks of the way gabriel looked down at him so long ago, the divine light of the spear held to his throat shining across his armor, the way he had pleaded for some of that previous kindness to return only to feel as the head pierced his skin and dug its way through his flesh, blood curling down his neck in rivulets and pooling in his mouth as he gasped for any semblance of breath he could take--)

and for just a second he thinks of how things could have been so much different if gabriel had a heart. if he was allowed to rule his kingdom in peace, allowed to let his people prosper and grow and have a second chance. and he looks at gabriel, sad and limp and broken in his grip, but hes not broken like a warrior after a valiant fight or a killer after a spree, hes broken like a fledgling bird with clipped feathers pecking at fingers for its own survival, like a child tucked away in a damp street corner waiting for it to be safe to move again, like the people he had helped build a new life in death.

and on one hand it infuriates him because gabriel is the reason he never got to see his people thrive, never got to see his kingdom grow and live and by all means he should despise him for everything hes done

but at the same time he remembers the gabriel from before the Council, remembers their late nights together, remembers the intelligence and the wit and the charm and the kindness they had Beaten out of him, sees how hopeless and faithless he has become

and sees that he has the chance to be better.

but he has to think about it. so he drops gabriel to the ground and watches as he scuttles back and coughs for breath and looks up at him and can practically feel the confusion and disbelief radiating off of him and if he's honest hes not sure hes making the right decision either. so he turns around and stalks away before he has the chance to change his mind.

anygays. i spent way too long writing this out cus im just obsessed with the concept of them growing closer Slowly because obviously minos can never truly forgive him and gabriel cant ever be rid of that Guilt but i do think there's something there to work from. they just have to put in some effort.

#hi. im insane #can you tell i have adhd? cus i have adhd.#anygays. that's my late-night ramblings over quesadillas.#ultrakill #yeah fuck it im maintagging this. look at my insanity boy

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tennessoui · 10 months

Text

democratic fic part 3

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

Anakin breathes in for a count of three and out for five. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the single most vexing creature in the entire galaxy.

Not a small part of him wants to grab the boy by his throat and shake him, make him look at him. How dare he look away. How dare he test Anakin’s control so casually. It is untenable, the way the boy smirks and flutters his eyelashes and begins to walk as if Anakin’s compliance is a matter already resolved.

“No,” Anakin steps forward and reaches out to grab his arm. Before his fingers can curl around the bone of his wrist, Kenobi has snatched his hand away, curling it to his chest protectively. The boy turns and glares at him, all hints of sweetness washed away from his face. “I said no, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says, tone as far from alright as it can get. “Then have a good rest of your night, Senator. I will, I am sure, see you again during my stay on Coruscant, though I will not inflict my company upon you any longer—”

The boy cannot be serious. “You are throwing a tantrum,” Anakin snaps. “I will not be beholden to the whims of a spoiled princeling—”

Obi-Wan throws an embittered, fierce look over his shoulder at him. “I am the grandson of a Count, Senator, I am not a prince—”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“And no one has asked that you accompany me—”

“You just did—”

“Yes, and I have taken your rejection with aplomb—”

“Sith’s hells you have,” Anakin mutters, working his jaw furiously as his thoughts fly rapidly through his head.

Everything he knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi points to the boy being made of soft stuffs; he is bratty and rude, no doubt about it, but he does not possess the spine that would be necessary for him to truly venture into the Lower Levels of Coruscant by himself. He is simply testing Anakin’s patience for the fun of it. Perhaps the thrill of it. But a failed Jedi turned spoiled servant of the Court would never have the guts to go alone somewhere so violent and dark.

“Fine,” Anakin says, turning away himself. “Do send me a comm tomorrow morning so that I know you are alive.” “I didn’t realize you would care,” the boy sniffs, his head held incredibly high when Anakin peeks back at him. For someone apparently not born into aristocracy, he has taken to it quite well. It sets Anakin’s teeth on edge, and his whole body twitches forward, filled with the urge to put his hands on the boy’s body, ruffle him up and tear the cold mask of indifference off his face.

These are very, very dangerous thoughts as he is quite sure that the boy would welcome those sorts of advances and Anakin has already committed to not allowing the boy into his bed. If not for the scandal should they be found, the questions of propriety, the fact that Kenobi is a ward of a foreign Count, then simply for the reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a spoiled little brat of a princeling, and Anakin is old enough to know better than to give into his demands.

He listens to Kenobi’s footsteps move further away from him, towards the elevator at the ends of the gardens that would take him to the speeder lot. He’d probably get into a speeder and fly back to his grandfather, pouting the entire way.

Yes, Anakin can see it now: Kenobi in the front seat of the speeder, full and pink bottom lip pushed out—perhaps even wobbling slightly, spit-slick too—hair a bit tangled and mussed from the wind, eye makeup smeared slightly from rubbing his hand over his face, pointing his speeder back to his grandfather’s apartments because he would never in a million years venture into the Lower Levels without some sort of guardian.

But—

What if Anakin is wrong?

After all, he only met the boy a few days ago. He has impressions of Kenobi, but that doesn’t mean the boy can’t surprise him. He’d been unexpectedly catty in the presence of Padmé: what if he could be unexpectedly brave and direct his speeder down far below the safest levels of Coruscant?

Dressed as he was, he would be noticed immediately. He’d be a target before he even stepped out of his speeder, and if anything happened to Kenobi, the blame would fall on Anakin’s shoulders.

Stars and moons and blasted suns, Anakin thinks to himself.

He turns around. He follows Kenobi’s disappearing figure with his eyes. It’s rather easy to do at least, with how the boy glimmers and glows in the light of the lanterns as he kriffing sashays along the garden path to the elevator bays.

Anakin gnashes his teeth; Anakin’s feet start moving.

—-------

The kriffing idiot goes to the Lower Levels.

Anakin barely has time to hijack a parked speeder and point it towards Kenobi’s when the boy flies his own over the edge of the lot and down at a steep angle.

Too steep of an angle to be going anywhere but to the Lower Levels—alone, looking as he does, dressed as he is.

Anakin curses once more and follows him over the edge.

—--------

He’s just going to make sure nothing bad happens to the boy, that’s all. It’s practically his duty. And as long as Kenobi doesn’t feel him in the Force or see him following him, it won’t be giving into the boy’s whims. As long as the boy doesn’t know he’s there, then he will not think he has won, which is of the utmost importance.

He has not won.

This is the thought on repeat in Anakin’s head as he jumps down from his stolen speeder and lands on the ground of Level -214 solidly. Kenobi has already dragged his bike, a lithe, slim model of a speeder, into the crook of an alleyway, as if that’ll be enough to keep it safe.

Anakin lets out an explosive sigh as he watches the glimmering blue and silver figure disappear into the crowd. “Hey,” he barks to a street vendor leaning against the wall next to the mouth of that same alley, lazily using a long stick to stir a pot of foul-smelling, iridescently blue liquid. He tosses him a roll of credits. “That’s, uh. Fifty-eight credits. I’ll give you a hundred more if that bike is still there when I get back. Alright?”

He doesn’t actually have one hundred more credits, but he knows he certainly looks like a man who does. The vendor seems to believe him, if the eager way he nods is any indication. Good. He can’t let the kriffing princeling’s speeder-bike be stolen, else the idiot would probably ask someone to give him a ride back to his apartments and either end up stolen himself or dead in a gutter.

Speaking of the princeling, Anakin can hardly see him anymore in the crowd, which obviously cannot stand. He throws the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and stalks after the boy.

Kenobi is already turning heads, just as Anakin knew he would, and while he takes a sort of sick satisfaction in being right, the feeling is mostly swallowed by a darker emotion, one that’s much harder to name. His feet pick up their pace as he watches Kenobi round an upcoming bend in the main street, eyes turned upwards as if basking in the neon lights and flickering signs.

Fucking tourist, Anakin thinks to himself uncharitably even as he follows doggedly, eyes glued on the shifting muscles of Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders as he walks instead of the sentients on the streets around them.

Where is he even going? What does he even want to get out of this little excursion save for a layer of muck and grime on the hems of his robes and the perfume of smoke and liquor and stars know what else clinging to his skin?

When Anakin visits these levels, it’s for a specific reason, to complete a specific purpose. He does not wander through the levels, he does not need to stop at the vendors or skulk inside the cantinas—though he has been known to indulge in the Lower Level clubs, moreso a decade or two ago than nowadays.

It’s strange cutting through the crowds of this platform, feeling the slight sway of it beneath his feet as his ears are overwhelmed by the clamor of the inhabitants, as his eyes begin to strain under the barrage of flickering neon lights.

When he’s down here, he is usually heading towards a podrace or coming off the high of one, and this—following Kenobi in his useless, aimless trek—does not feel similar to either scenario. It feels more like he has already lost just by being here, traipsing after Kenobi’s figure like a dog on a leash.

Anakin is so distracted by his thoughts that he almost misses the moment that Kenobi stops.

Or is stopped.

Between one moment and the next, a tall, hulking form melts from the shadows of the cramped alleyway Kenobi has chosen to wander down. It’s a Zephrian, long purple horns curling around their thick and proud forehead, shoulders wider than two Kenobis put together. Their hands fall onto Kenobi, bringing him to a halt at the same time that Anakin realizes that he’s not the only one who has been following Kenobi as a much smaller figure darts forward from just in front of Anakin to launch itself up to land on Kenobi’s exposed and unguarded back, claws sinking into pale flesh and pulling a pained noise from Kenobi’s lips, high-pitched and soft, filled to the brim with surprise.

Its voice begins to chatter loudly in the narrow alley, and the Zephrian’s voice joins in, but Anakin cannot hear any of it over that sound Kenobi had made.

His feet are moving of their own accord, his body pushing roughly through the thin remnants of the crowd to get to Kenobi.

“I—I don’t carry any credits on me,” Kenobi is saying, voice wobbling from fear or pain, Anakin doesn’t know.

The smaller figure, a Kowakian monkey-lizard, lets out a sound akin to a cackle, and its claws leave Kenobi’s skin to dive into the waves of his hair, grasping at a hair ornament—sapphire and twinkling diamond—and pulling it out of the locks with enough force that it pulls another cry from Kenobi’s lips as his hands raise to defend himself.

A moment later, Anakin is there, hand clenching down onto the Kowakian’s neck and ripping it away from Obi-Wan, the sound of his pain deafening even as it fades from the air. The Kowakian goes flying—Anakin hasn’t used the Force consciously in years, but that has to be what rises up and responds to the push of his hand, that has to be the reason the monkey-lizard slams so hard into the wall of the alleyway that the plaster cracks in multiple places as its body snaps.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, a punched-out, instinctual noise that Anakin has no idea how to interpret. He cannot turn to look at him either, because the Zephrian’s hazy red eyes go wide as he focuses them with what looks like great difficulty on the monkey-lizard’s rather unmoving body.

“Go,” Anakin commands, voice low and quiet, his body carefully moving in front of Kenobi’s as the boy shifted towards him, curled up on himself with one hand pressed to his face as if terribly injured or frightened. The Zephrian steps backwards, mouth twisting, and then steps forward with his mouth stretches into an angry snarl, eyes hazy with drink. The Force reverberates around them with a warning, and the Zephrian takes another aborted step forward, chest heaving.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan cries, and Anakin’s hand shoots out. The Force runs up and down his arm, like a loth-cat batting at him for affection. You’ve returned, it seems to murmur in the air around them, nuzzling against his mind, his soul.

He pushes out, picturing the Zephrian going flying as far and as hard as the Kowakian had, and the Force obeys with glee. The would-be attacker’s feet lift off the ground as he’s thrown into the same cracked wall as the monkey. Anakin hears his body connect with the duraplast, but he doesn’t watch it, swinging around fully to glare down at Kenobi.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he’s growling out before he can stop himself, vision turning red as he glowers down at stubborn, willful, beautiful Kenobi. He takes a step forward, and Kenobi does not move except to tilt his head further up.

His eyes are dilated. Fear?

He should be afraid. Anakin has just—Anakin does not know what he’s just done, but there’s no undoing it. The Force is swirling around him like a churning whirlpool, the sort that sucked souls in and spat them out on Kamino for thousands of years. There had been a reason the Jedi warned him against using the Force. A reason he hadn’t touched his connection with it in decades, had simply suffered through its warnings and nudges and prods.

Now all his reasons lay in tatters around him, and the Force is so fucking loud.

Obi-Wan isn’t so much as breathing as he looks up at him, pink lips wet and parted as he allows him to approach, to back him up against the other side of the alley wall.

“What did I tell you?” Anakin snarls, hand falling to rest on Kenobi’s shoulder while the other makes a fist at his side. He’d fucking said—and now someone’s gone and made a mess of Kenobi’s hair; someone’s gone and clawed at his dimpled chin, leaving a long scrape up one cheek, leaving marks across the play of muscles on his back, leaving his eyes wide with fear which never would have happened if he’d just listened. His hand jumps up to smooth out the messy tangle of Kenobi’s hair, tenderness in the face of his fear warring with righteous anger.

“Is that what you wanted to see, princeling?” he murmurs, tightening his grip on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Was that enough of a Lower Levels experience for you?”

The boy shivers.

(Link to the corresponding poll for this fic)

#democratic fic #a bit shorter and i won't put it on ao3 until i have the results of the next poll and write it out #but im very interested in your votes for this next poll and the one after that #do you think obi-wan is really actually afraid ;)#obikin #i will answer that now: no he is not he is aroused out his damn MIND boy would be on his knees if anakin wasn't holding him up #also yeah 1000% obi-wan mind tricked those two into attacking him #knowing him they were probably like. social workers. traveling priests.#doesn't matter. they had low shields and obi-wan wanted to see what anakin could do #boy did he deliver

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imtrashraccoon · 4 months

Text

A bit of a shorter chapter this time but it works for what I pictured. Yes, those names are slightly referencing my Nightmare x Reader fic that I'm working on lol. Dust is a creepy stalker still, what else is new?

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Dust - Judgement

Word Count: 1,477

Your snow boots were keeping your toes nice and warm as you made your way home from work today. It had snowed the night before and while the sidewalks were mostly clear now, there were a few snow drifts from the street plows here and there. It made the gray city slightly more pretty in your opinion, even if it also made walking more treacherous.

"Hey! Is that you, ...?"

You looked up when you heard your name to find four women approaching you. You instantly recognized them as several of the girls that went to the same high school you did, although you only vaguely remembered each of their names. Cathie...? Rebecca? Marcy? You couldn't seem remember the fourth girl's name though. They looked like they were dressed to the nines as if they were going out on the town after work - even their snow gear was cute.

With a sigh, you greeted them and tried to act pleasant. Truthfully, you didn't have good memories of any of your previous interactions with these women. They'd all been "best friends" and always sat together in class or at lunch. Anyone who didn't fit into their little click, for whatever reason, was unworthy to be friends with them. To top it off, they were all gossips and you had been just one of their many targets back then.

"It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"You haven't changed a bit... Well, that's a lie, you've gained weight apparently."

"Are you seriously wearing the same coat from senior year?"

"I heard you work at that corporate office down the street. Didn't you want to go to college to be a psychologist or something?"

You hadn't even managed to get a word out, other than a simple hello, before they predictably started in on you, specifically pointing out things you couldn't change. So what if you'd gained some weight? You'd been borderline anorexic during high school for crying out loud! And what was wrong with wearing the same clothes for years if they still fit and were in good shape? New ones were expensive and you just so happened to like your current sense of style!

"You're all as lovely as I remember," you muttered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important places to be than listening to the opinions of trash."

You sidestepped and managed to scoot around the group. Although, it seemed that they weren't content to let you have the last word and as you started to walk away, they followed and threw out some more judgemental comments.

"Wow... You're still as snotty as ever, huh? Grow up!"

"Your face matches your personality!"

"Did another man come to his senses and dump you again?"

"Your mother was right, you know!"

You clenched your fists and forced yourself to keep walking at a brisk pace. They'd lose interest eventually as they always did. If you didn't know better, you'd be tempted to throw a punch or two, but you really didn't need an assault charge on your record.

There was movement up ahead to your left and when you looked up, you were surprised to see none other than Dust stepping out of the alley. He met your eye and silently motioned for you to follow him.

You didn't hesitate and quickly stepped into the alley with him. The bullies were far enough behind that you might be able to give them the slip if you were fast enough. However, your hopes of making a clean getaway were dashed when you realized that the alley was a dead end up ahead.

Before you could ask why he'd brought you here, Dust gripped your right arm tightly and leaned in close to you. "close your eyes for a moment," he hissed.

You knew he wasn't going to bother waiting to see if you did so to execute whatever his plan had been and so you did as you were told. Almost instantly, you felt a numb sensation spread across your body, starting at your extremities, and the usual busy sounds of the city were replaced by a sudden deafening silence. His grip on your arm was far more reassuring than he likely intended it to be though. Then the temperature shifted a second later and you began to feel warm again.

"you can open your eyes now," he muttered and let go of you as he moved away.

Your mouth fell open in shock when you realized where you were. Somehow, you were standing inside your apartment even though you'd been just outside moments prior. The surprise fell away rather quickly when you were hit with the possible implications of what this meant.

You turned to look at Dust, who had decided to make himself at home on your couch. He sunk into the cushions and looked as if he would gladly stay there for an eternity if he could. He hadn't even taken off his shoes which, while irritating, was the least of your worries right now.

"Dust..."

He grunted in acknowledgement and his eyelights briefly flickered to you.

"How'd you know where I lived...?" you asked quietly.

He shrugged and looked away. "lucky guess..." he muttered.

Well that was a lie if you'd ever heard one. You huffed and marched over to him. Crossing your arms and fixing him with your most unimpressed look. "Really?"

He lazily waved you off but didn't seem willing to make eye contact with you now. Abruptly changing the subject, he asked a question of his own. "do those people bother you a lot?" he asked in a low voice.

You didn't appreciate how he'd brushed off your question like that and just continued staring at him for a few moments. When he didn't back down though, you reluctantly decided to revisit this issue at a future time.

"No? I haven't spoken to any of them in years..." you answered with a sigh.

He nodded slowly and you could almost see the gears turning in his head as he mulled through whatever was on his mind.

"people like that deserve what's coming to them."

You really didn't like how hollow his voice sounded when he said that or the way his posture tensed up either. If you didn't know better, you'd think he was talking as if he were an arbitrator of Karma herself.

"Hey, uh...not to sound presumptuous... But, can you please not go out and threaten or kill people on my behalf?" you asked slowly.

"...what?" He gave you a look that could best be described as perplexed. "why...would you think that...? i...don't care about you that much..." he muttered, quickly tugging his hood tighter over his skull and looking down at the floor.

You stared at him for a solid five seconds with a mildly amused smile playing at the corners of your lips. What was that reaction? You'd expected him to brush you off again or even outright deny that he'd stoop to that level.

"Question... Is stalking me like the way you have been for...however long you have, your way of figuring me out?" You planted your hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow in a skeptical way.

He looked up at you blankly but didn't answer. The longer you stared at him, the more you realized that, yes, that was exactly what he'd been doing.

Okay, he was definitely creepy. While you were grateful that he'd decided to step in and get you out of that situation earlier, you really didn't like that he'd continued stalking you after confronting you for the first time. What was his goal anyways? You were basically harmless as far as humans went.

Steepling your fingers together, you took a deep breath and made eye contact with him again. "Might I suggest a more appropriate method? Like actually hanging around and talking, like adults, so we can properly get to know each other?"

Dust said nothing once again and just stared back at you sullenly. You couldn't tell if he was offended that you'd even suggested such a wild idea or if he just thought it was dumb. You didn't know a thing about him really, but you knew he wasn't exactly all there and he may not even see anything wrong with what he had been doing in the first place.

You finally gave up on the staring contest and had to look away. "Fine, whatever... I don't have the mental energy to care what you do at this point."

You started to walk into the kitchen but decided you could at least try to be a good host if he was going to make himself comfy on your couch. "Did you want something to drink or...?" But, by the time you looked back, he'd completely disappeared.

Damn it... What is with him and being all mysterious?

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #dusttale #dust sans #dust sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

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