#somewhat unsuccessfully

[puppetsoftomorrow]

y'know how kids go through a phase where they just want to copy their parents? so they want to care for babies and do housework and have jobs etc... well i think the avalance kid plays as Captain of the Waverider and sara walks in on her one day like "vandal savage... i have followed you through the timeline... now i must vanquish you ...." and vandal savage is being played by a beanie baby

[but-i-want-to-live-with-you]

I know it's been said many times before, but I just can't get over Britt Lower's acting, because it's SO GOOD. This is true for a lot of reasons, but specifically I'm blown away by the subtleties in her portrayal of Helena.

The way you can immediately tell something is off when Helena replaces Helly? The way Helena and Helly are able to be read as distinctly different characters just by their body language and tone? The way you can see hesitance in Helena's eyes whenever she feels vulnerable? The look on her face when she entered the elevator and turned control of her body over? The way she speaks down to Helly like a scolding mother? The way her smiles are wider than Helly's, yet less happy? The sputter of her laugh when she just couldn't hold it in anymore? The monologues she gives with just her face? Her stiffness and cool control contrasted against Helly's bold carelessness?

Peak acting all around. I'm obsessed.

[fansonfansonfansonfans]

AOAOAOA Ep #66: Robots! Dinosaurs! Aliens! Babies! In this episode, we sit down with the lead animatronic designers of today and see what they've been up to. Please do not bring up CGI to them. It will not go well.

[septembersghost]

"(and take a guess at who destroyed the professional affinity they built with him" is this the colonel? jfc I keep hating that man

who else? leiber and stoller initially didn't know who elvis was and had some preconceived judgment in place (which happened to him a lot), but then once they actually met with him, they were impressed and developed a rapport. elvis wanted them to be in the studio when he recorded. they had suggestions and encouragement for him, about songs, about his career, and parker didn't like that, was threatened by the idea of them getting in the middle, or worse, giving him ideas (this would repeat throughout his life, it's not dissimilar to what happened with steve binder). the colonel eventually destroyed the relationship they built by sending leiber and stoller a blank page and calling it a contract as an intentional slight. they told him exactly what they thought of that, and never worked with elvis again.

longer details from here

"Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller were like the rap artists of the early '50s, pushing buttons, inviting scorn and testing the limits, as rock roared into being from its roots as blues and rhythm and blues. They were writing music for black artists, when one of their songs, Hound Dog, was heard by a young Elvis Presley. His adaptation turned it into a No. 1 hit and helped aim Leiber and Stoller toward the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

They wrote 20 songs for Elvis until the brash young songwriters had a falling out with Colonel Tom Parker, the Svengali they now remember as a 'bully' and a 'foul, greedy' man who helped destroy Elvis. But the estrangement didn't change their respect for Elvis.

'We feel that Elvis Presley was the high water mark of the 20th Century. He's legend. No, he's myth. He's in that celestial place for mythological figures. At the time, we just thought he was a white kid trying to make it as a singer', says Leiber, the man who supplied the words as lyricist of one of the worlds' best-known songwriting duos.

Leiber and Stoller originally met in 1950, sharing a love of the blues and boogie woogie. They were writing for black artists, their earliest songs recorded by Jimmy Witherspoon, Little Esther, Amos Milburn, Charles Brown, Little Willie Littlefield and, among others, Willie Mae 'Big Mama' Thornton.

It was for Big Mama Thornton that they wrote Hound Dog in 1952. Her version came out in 1953 and was adapted by several groups. Stoller had gone to Europe with royalties from some of those early songs and was on his way home aboard the Andrea Doria when it sank in 1956.

Rescued by a lifeboat, Stoller arrived in New York with Leiber yelling from the dock: 'We've got a smash hit'. 'I said, 'You mean Big Mama Thornton's record?' He said, 'No, some white kid named Elvis Presley'. Elvis had heard Hound Dog in a Vegas Lounge by a group called Freddie Bell and the Bellboys', says Stoller.

Elvis' recording of Hound Dog was released in July of 1956 and bounded up the charts, selling millions of copies. Released the same year as Heartbreak Hotel, it put Elvis on TV and turned him into a phenomenon.

After Elvis' great success with his version of Hound Dog, Paramount Studios and music publishers Hill and Range selected additional Leiber and Stoller songs for Elvis' 1957 film Loving You. It was on April 30, 1957 while working on the movie Jailhouse Rock that Elvis first met Leiber and Stoller. They were skeptical of meeting the newcomer, thinking he was a country bumpkin. However, they were very impressed when upon meeting and talking to Elvis that he was very knowledgeable of R&B music and could discuss its nuances in great detail. They went on to work closely with Elvis on the Jailhouse Rock soundtrack with Stoller appearing in the film playing the piano for Elvis' character. After an incident of pitching songs and movie ideas directly to Elvis and not going through the usual chain of command with Elvis' manager, Colonel Tom Parker, they had a falling out with Parker and essentially ended their collaboration with Elvis. Fast-forward to 1960, they did write a couple of songs that were in the running for inclusion in Elvis' first post-army movie, G.I. Blues, but, ultimately they were not used. Although the direct collaboration ended, Elvis did choose several additional Leiber and Stoller tunes to record over the years.

'We were completely unconscious of what it might imply. We were just doing numbers', says Leiber. Stoller says those numbers were unfamiliar to white audiences because he and Leiber had written 'almost exclusively for black performers, so we wrote in a black idiom. People started thinking it was entirely new, but the base we started from was the blues and boogie woogie'.

Stoller says they didn't specifically tailor songs to that early Elvis persona but began by supplying songs they had already written, like Love Me, a ballad they had already recorded. 'Then we were asked to write for a movie, Loving You, with Elvis and Lizabeth Scott'. The next project, Jailhouse Rock, included four songs Leiber and Stoller wrote while held captive in a New York hotel.

They had been living in Los Angeles, and Stoller says they rented a New York hotel suite with a piano in the living area. 'We were given a script for the movie and kind of tossed it in the corner. We were having a ball in New York, going to jazz clubs, cabaret, going to the theater and hanging out. Finally, Jean Aberbach who ran Elvis Presley Music knocked on the door and said, 'Well boys, where are my songs?' I think Jerry said, 'Oh, Jean, you're going to get them'. Jean then pushed a big overstuffed chair in front of the door and said, 'I'm not leaving until I get my songs'.

They wrote four songs in five hours, including Jailhouse Rock, the movie's title song and Treat Me Nice, both major hits.

After that, Elvis 'wanted us in the studio with him whenever we recorded', says Stoller. It was part of Elvis' 'perfectionist' tendencies in the early stages of his career, says Jerry Schilling, a member of Elvis' Memphis Mafia. Leiber says Elvis 'was like an Olympic champion. He could do 40 to 50 takes. I never saw him happier than when he was on a microphone, performing'.

Both songwriters say that studio time was their primary contact with Elvis, who was kept at arm's length from them by Colonel Parker. Stoller says Elvis once asked, 'Mike, could you write me a real pretty ballad?' Over the weekend, they wrote the song Don't for him and handed it to him only to be berated by Parker.

'He was upset that I handed a song directly to Elvis. They didn't want anybody to have direct access to Elvis. It was like Elvis was kept kind of in a glass box and away from contact except for the Memphis Mafia. They were like paid companions'.

Like almost everyone else, they also had little contact with Parker himself. 'The longest I ever spent with him was a dinner at the Beverly Hills Hotel around 1956, after Hound Dog', says Stoller.

The breaking point for them came when Leiber was recovering from a bout with pneumonia about two years later, and Parker ordered them to California to write songs for a new movie project. Leiber explained that he had just been released from the hospital and was unable to travel. 'Parker said, 'You'd better get your ass out here'. He then sent a packet with a contract for them to sign. Leiber says he pulled the contract from the packet and found only a dark line across the middle of a blank page for his signature.

'I called and said, 'I think you made a mistake. There's no contract in here'. He said, 'Don't worry about that, boy. Just sign your name, and I'll fill it in later'."

"Jerry Leiber: I called and asked to speak to (Colonel) Tom. He got on the phone and said (Leiber imitates Parker) 'How you doin' boy?' I said, 'I'm OK. I had a real close call there. I had walking pneumonia and I just got out of the hospital.' He said he wanted me to pack right away and catch a plane. I told him I wasn't in any shape to catch a plane because I'd just gotten out of the hospital. He said, 'If they let you out, that means you're all right'. I told him I needed a day or two to get myself together, but he said the schedule was very tight and he needed me to come out right away.

Then he said, 'Did you see the contract yet?' I said, contract?' He said, 'I'm sure it's there by now. It's a contract covering the forthcoming movie and soundtrack album. You better take a look, sign it and send it back. So I hung up, took the contract out of one of the manila envelopes, and saw nothing but a blank page. Nothing was written on it except two lines at the bottom where Mike and I were supposed to sign our names.

I thought they had made a ridiculous blunder. I called Parker's secretary and said, 'There's been a mistake', she said, 'Let me get Tom.' Colonel Parker got on the phone and I told him, 'There's a piece of paper here with two places for signatures, but the contract is missing'. He said, 'There's no mistake - just sign it'. Then he said, 'Don't worry. We'll fill it in later'.

I got off the phone with Parker and immediately called Mike. I told him, 'Breaking up with the Presley outfit is like throwing away a license to print money. After all this work, I really hate to do it, but I am really offended' (When I was on the phone with Parker, I almost told him that I wasn't one of his 'okie dokies'). I told Mike I didn't want to work with this jerk anymore.

I asked Mike, 'How do you feel about this?' Now Mike is a very measured and modest with very good manners. He paused for a moment, and then he said, Jer ....tell him to f**k himself!'

So I called Colonel Parker back and said, 'Tom, I thought about what you told me'. He said, 'Good! What time are you gonna get here?' I said, 'Tom, I spoke to Mike about the contract, and he told me to tell you to go f**k yourself'.

I hung up, and I never spoke to him again."

"Like many others, [Leiber] wondered about Parker's hold on Elvis. 'I think he (Elvis) had a very weak father and didn't get a sense of what a father was like. Parker came along, and his attitude was, 'Do this, do that, and I'll take care of everything'. Parker became his surrogate family'."

"Leiber: Of course, the Colonel wasn't really a colonel. He was Thomas A. Parker, whose former job as a carnival barker defined his personality. He had a definite shtick ('Pick a number from one to ten'). He told dozens of canned jokes. I can't remember any of them except that they weren't funny. But it didn't matter that we didn't laugh, because the Colonel wasn't really conscious of us. Of course, he knew we were the songwriters of 'Hound Dog' and the new songs for Jailhouse Rock. He knew more hit songs for Elvis meant more money for him. Beyond that, though, he was more interested in putting on his own show than getting to know us.

He had his long cigar and his confected Southern accent. He was a nonstop talker whose ego was always on parade. He told us in great detail all he had done for Elvis - and all he intended to do.

'Elvis' he said, 'is going to be bigger than the president, bigger than the pope'.

Naturally we agreed.

Stoller: The Colonel had the kind of energy that sucked all the air out of the room, even the dining room at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I had little interest in the man. Elvis was the guy we were eager to meet.

The session was due to start later that week.

Leiber: My heterosexual credits have long been established, so I can comfortably say that the first thing that hit me when I walked into the recording studio and found myself standing next to Elvis Presley was his physical beauty. Far more than his pictures, his actual presence was riveting.

He had a shy smile and quiet manner that were disarming."

"Stoller: It's important to remember that on the day we met Elvis, he was twenty-two and we were twenty-four. We were contemporaries. Remember, too, that Jerry and I shared the uppity view that he and I were among the few white guys who knew about the blues.

In the first five minutes of conversation with Elvis, we learned we were dead wrong.

Elvis knew the blues. He was a Ray Charles fanatic and even knew that Ray had sung our song 'The Snow Is Falling'. In fact, he knew virtually all of our songs. There wasn't any R&B he didn't know. He could quote from Arthur 'Big Boy' Crudup, B.B. King, and Big Bill Broonzy.

Leiber: When it came to the blues, Elvis knew his stuff. He may not have been conversant about politics or world history, but his blues knowledge was almost encyclopedic. Mike and I were blown away. In fact, the conversation got so enthusiastic that Mike and Elvis sat down at the piano and started playing four-handed blues. He definitely felt our passion for the real roots material and shared that passion with all his heart.

Just like that, we fell in love with the guy."

"'Whenever I record' he said, 'I want you guys in the studio. You're the guys who make the magic'."

"When Elvis returned (after a studio break), his head was down and his demeanor totally changed.

'I'm really sorry, Mike', he said, 'but you're gonna have to leave. The Colonel came in and he doesn't want anyone here but me and the guys'. 'Okay' I said, not wanting to make any more trouble. And with that, I left. The next day at the shoot I mentioned the incident to one of Elvis' Memphis buddies. 'Don't take it personally, Mike,' he said, 'It's just that the Colonel doesn't want Elvis to develop a friendship with anyone but us'."

[faythinthemusic]

When the Broncos won the Super Bowl in 2016, Downtown Denver erupted into a giant, celebration — what tends to happen when local sports teams win big.

Me and my roommates went, because we were young and wanted to party. And so, we went and we celebrated.

The first thing you saw when you got downtown was Riot Police lining the sidewalks, peacocking with their gear and shields. An ever looming presence. But everyone wanted to celebrate, so most people left them alone. Why risk turning things into a riot?

At one point, a group of people gathered in a crowd and started chanting “FUCK TOM BRADY”. When the group started to turn into a Mosh Pit, one of them came to tell the crowd to settle down. They did immediately — after all, no one wanted a riot. It was a peaceful celebration, and there were other bars to attend.

At one point, we watched a group of boys try to flip a car. A couple of cops came and maced them, and that was that. Other than that, nothing particularly crazy happened. It was a somewhat rowdy, but peaceful, victory celebration.

Then the next morning, every news station played the one clip of the group of boys trying to flip a car with headlines like “DENVER ERUPTS INTO CHAOS!!” and “RIOTS IN DOWNTOWN DENVER!!” and other similar headlines. People shared that clip on social media decrying how could this happen! All of those football fan rioters should be charged!! Sometime, that clip was spliced together with images of all the riot police lining the sidelines…it was genuinely a master class in what editing can do. Even my most “fuck the police” friends ate up the story of the riotous football fans. And meanwhile…that’s not what happened, at all. But because less then ten people decided to unsuccessfully flip a car — that’s what the whole celebration was painted as.

Which is to say…when you see footage of “rioters” and “violent protests”…take it with a grain of salt. Because chances are, that’s not what happened. It’s not what is happening!!

[starskq]

I STILL HATE YOU / J.W

Pairing ◊ bratty!fem!reader x brattamer!wooyoung (ft. '99 line)

Genre ◊ SMUT, angst, ennemies to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), reader is a brat, harddom!wooyoung, they hate each other, fingering, rough, degradation, petnames (good girl, sweetheart...), oral (fem receiving), lots of angst

Word count ◊ 4,6k

Summary ◊ : You and Wooyoung hated each other, but your friends thought it would be a good idea to lock wooyoung's room to "sort things out"

a/n: just a sucker for dom Wooyoung 😵‍💫 enjoy! (not proofread)

You were part of this tight-knit friend group with Wooyoung, Yunho, San, Mingi, and Yeosang. Usually, you would have considered yourself lucky to be surrounded by such a cool bunch of people, but there was one glaring exception: Wooyoung. From the moment you met, you and Wooyoung clashed like fire and ice. You were both cocky, always trying to outdo each other with snarky comments and sarcastic remarks.

It wasn’t even like you had any reason to hate each other; it just happened. Maybe it was how Wooyoung always seemed so smug, with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face. Or maybe it was how he would always find some way to one-up you, no matter what. Either way, the tension between you two was almost palpable, and it was clear to everyone around.

The others in the group seemed to take it in stride. Yunho and San would roll their eyes and laugh it off, while Mingi would try to play peacemaker, often unsuccessfully. Yeosang, on the other hand, seemed to find your constant bickering somewhat amusing, though he rarely got involved. Despite the tension, the group managed to stick together, probably because your mutual animosity oddly balanced the dynamic.

One Friday night, you were all hanging out at their place, lounging on his beat-up couch, debating over what movie to watch. Wooyoung, as usual, had a different opinion from you. He wanted to watch some action flick while you were in the mood for a horror movie. The debate quickly turned into a full-blown argument, with you and Wooyoung standing face-to-face, jabbing at each other with pointed insults, as usual.

“Why don’t you just admit your taste in movies sucks?” Wooyoung sneered, crossing his arms.

“Oh please, like you even understand what makes a good movie,” you shot back, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Yunho sighed loudly, standing between you two. “Alright, can we just decide already? It’s just a movie.”

San laughed, shaking his head. “You two are hopeless. Can’t even pick a movie without turning it into World War Three.”

The argument over which movie to watch was reaching a boiling point, and everyone in the room could sense it. You and Wooyoung were standing toe-to-toe, practically shouting over each other.

“I’m telling you, action movies are way more entertaining,” Wooyoung argued, his voice filled with exasperation.

“And I’m telling you, horror movies have way better plots,” you shot back, not willing to back down.

Yunho exchanged a knowing glance with San and Mingi. They’d had enough of the constant bickering and had been joking for weeks about taking drastic measures to put an end to it.

“Alright, that’s it,” Yunho said suddenly, standing up. “I can’t take this anymore. We need a break from your constant fighting.”

Before you could react, Yunho grabbed you by the arm while San and Mingi grabbed Wooyoung. You struggled, demanding to be let go, but they were determined.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?” you yelled, trying to shake off Yunho’s grip.

“Let go of me! I’m not done here!” Wooyoung protested, struggling against San and Mingi.

Yeosang, who had been quietly watching the whole scene unfold, opened Wooyoung’s bedroom door. “In you go,” he said calmly, stepping aside.

Yunho and San practically shoved you both into the room and quickly shut the door behind you. You heard the click of the lock, and the realization set in.

“Are you guys serious?” you shouted, pounding on the door. “This is so immature!”

“Yeah, open the door! We don’t need this!” Wooyoung added, equally furious.

From the other side of the door, Yunho’s voice came through, sounding uncharacteristically stern. “You two need to sort this out. We’re not letting you out until you do.”

“You can’t be serious,” you groaned, leaning against the door in frustration.

“Oh, we’re very serious,” San replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re both our friends, and we’re tired of the constant fighting. So figure it out.”

Inside the room, you turned to face Wooyoung, who was glaring at you with just as much annoyance as you felt. You crossed your arms, refusing to be the first to speak.

“This is ridiculous,” Wooyoung muttered, pacing back and forth. “Like locking us in here is going to make us get along.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t such a jerk all the time, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” you retorted, not missing a beat.

Wooyoung stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Me? A jerk? You’re the one who’s always acting like you’re better than everyone else!”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I only act like that because you always have to be the center of attention!”

Outside, you could hear your friends laughing and chatting, clearly unconcerned about the drama unfolding inside the room.

“Can’t believe they did this,” you muttered under your breath.

“Same,” he replied, sitting down on his bed with a huff. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? How is this my fault?” you demanded, sitting down on the floor opposite him.

“You’re the one who always has to argue with me,” he said, gripping his hair in frustration. “You just can’t let anything go.”

“Because you’re always wrong!” you shot back, the argument feeling strangely familiar, yet different with no audience to play to.

You exchanged a heated glance with Wooyoung, who looked ready to explode. “This is all your fault,” he said, his voice low and accusing.

“My fault? You’ve got to be kidding me,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “If you weren’t such a pain in the ass, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, please,” Wooyoung sneered, getting up from the bed and stepping closer. “You’re the one who’s always picking fights.”

“Because you’re always so damn infuriating!” you retorted, matching his step forward until you were face to face.

The tension between you was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like something would snap. Instead, you both turned away with a huff, deciding that silence might be the best strategy. Maybe if you stopped engaging, your friends would see how pointless this was and let you out.

The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable. You sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, while Wooyoung sat on the edge of it, staring at the wall. The minutes ticked by slowly, each second filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You could feel his presence, every movement and breath, making it impossible to fully relax.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence became too much to bear. You shifted, the slight noise breaking the uneasy peace. Wooyoung glanced at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you snapped, unable to hold back.

“Nothing,” he muttered, looking away again.

The frustration boiled over. “You always do this,” you said, your voice rising. “Acting like you’re so much better than everyone else.”

Wooyoung’s head whipped around, his eyes flashing with anger. “Better than everyone else? You’re the one who’s always acting like you have something to prove!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t constantly try to undermine me!” you shouted, standing up.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, standing up to face you. “You think you’re the only one who’s frustrated? You make everything so damn difficult!”

“Me? You’re the one who—”

The argument escalated quickly, voices rising, insults flying. The room seemed to shrink around you as the anger and frustration spilled over. You were both shouting now, words tumbling out without thought.

“You’re so arrogant!” you yelled, stepping closer to him.

“And you’re so damn stubborn!” Wooyoung shot back, closing the distance between you even more.

The space between you was electric, charged with anger and something else you couldn’t quite identify. The fight became more heated, the words more cutting.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “But you’re just a coward, hiding behind that smug attitude!”

Wooyoung’s eyes blazed with fury. “You don’t know anything about me!”

“Maybe because you never let anyone in!” you screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled slightly, then came back, his face inches from yours.

“Maybe because you never tried to understand!” he shouted, his breath hot on your face.

You felt a surge of anger and recklessness take over. “Why would I want to understand someone as pathetic as you?” you shot back, your words sharp and cutting.

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Shut up,” he said, his voice low and filled with warning.

You met his gaze with a challenging look, the anger and adrenaline making you bold. “Make me,” you replied, your voice steady despite the wild beating of your heart.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Then, before you could react, Wooyoung grabbed your shoulders and pulled you toward him, crashing his lips against yours in a rough, almost desperate kiss. The suddenness of it stole your breath, and for a split second, you were too stunned to respond.

But then you felt a surge of heat, a mix of anger and something much deeper. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands moving to tangle in his hair as you tried to pull him even closer. It was a battle, not a kiss—each of you trying to dominate, to claim the upper hand.

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your shoulders, his grip almost bruising as he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped, but it only made the kiss more intense. Your hands slipped from his hair to his back, clutching at his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongues and raw need. You could feel the anger in it, the frustration and the years of unspoken tension. But there was something else, too—a desperate desire, a need to finally break through the barriers you’d both put up.

You fought back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him grunt. He responded by pressing you harder against the wall, his grip on your shoulders almost bruising. His lips moved against yours with a fierce intensity, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, demanding submission.

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice breathless but defiant.

Wooyoung growled, one hand moving to grip your jaw, tilting your head back forcefully. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he muttered against your lips before biting down harshly on your lower lip, drawing a gasp from you, almost drawing blood.

You retaliated by digging your nails into his back through his shirt, trying to assert some control. But Wooyoung was relentless. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, his body pressing against yours, leaving you no room to move.

“Pathetic,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re always so desperate to prove yourself.”

“Better than being a smug asshole,” you shot back, twisting in his grip but finding no escape.

Wooyoung’s laugh was dark and mocking. “You like this, don’t you? Being put in your place.” His free hand trailed down your side, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

“Shut up,” you spat, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Make me,” he countered, echoing your earlier challenge. His lips found yours again, even rougher this time, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, dominating every movement.

You bit down on his tongue, earning a growl from him as he pulled back slightly, only to return with even more force. His kiss was punishing, each movement designed to remind you who was in control. You couldn’t help but respond, your body betraying you as you arched against him.

“You’re such a brat,” he hissed, his lips moving down to your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave marks. “Always trying to fight me, but you’re just as desperate for this as I am.”

‘’Fuck you,” you repeated, though the words lacked conviction as a moan escaped your lips.

“Admit it,” he demanded, his hand slipping under your shirt, fingers digging into your skin. “Admit that you want this.”

“Never,” you gasped, tugging against his hold on your wrists.

He yanked your hands down, pinning them behind your back with one hand while his other hand slipped under your shirt, trailing down your stomach with rough, possessive movements.

“Let go of me,” you demanded, but your voice wavered, betraying your conflicting emotions.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Not until you learn to keep that mouth of yours shut.” His fingers found the waistband of your pants, slipping inside with a determined, almost punishing force.

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your core, the sensation both shocking and electrifying. “You’re such an ass,” you hissed, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“Such a dirty little mouth,” he taunted, his fingers moving with a rough precision that made it impossible to think clearly. He found your clit quickly, starting to circle it roughly. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson.’’

Before you could respond, his fingers pushed inside you, the intrusion rough and unyielding. You bit back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it was impossible to ignore the intensity of his touch.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot and taunting. “You act all tough, but deep down, you’re just a needy little slut.”

“Shut up,” you managed to gasp, your body betraying you as you arched against his hand.

His fingers moved faster, rougher, each movement designed to break down your resistance. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me. Just admit it.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give in. “I hate you,” you spat, though the words lacked conviction.

“Oh, I know you do,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But your body says otherwise.” He added another finger, stretching you, making you gasp. “Look at you, so desperate and needy. It’s pathetic.”

You wanted to retort, to throw another insult his way, but the sensation was overwhelming. His fingers moved with a brutal efficiency, hitting just the right spots to make you squirm. The anger and hatred mixed with the undeniable physical attraction, creating a storm of conflicting emotions.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. “Admit that you want this.”

“Never,” you gasped, though the word came out more like a moan.

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, and he thrust his fingers harder, making you cry out despite yourself. “Say it,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I… I want it,” you finally admitted, the words torn from you unwillingly.

“Good girl,” he murmured, a mocking smile on his lips. “Was that so hard?” He continued his rough ministrations, his fingers moving in a relentless rhythm that left you trembling.

The words were degrading, but they pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around his fingers, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You cried out, unable to hold back, your hands gripping his arms for support.

Wooyoung watched you with a satisfied smirk, his fingers continuing to move inside you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm. "That's it, sweetheart,’’ he murmured, his voice softening just a fraction.

You tried to catch your breath to regain some semblance of control, but Wooyoung was already kneeling in front of you, his hands roughly pushing your pants and underwear down to your ankles.

“Wh-what are you doing?” you stammered, though your body betrayed you with a shiver of anticipation.

“You think I’m done with you?” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks. “I’m going to show you what happens when you push me too far.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit with a precision that made your knees buckle. You gasped, one hand flying to his hair, the other bracing against the wall for support.

“Wooyoung, stop—” you started, but your words dissolved into a moan as he sucked hard on your clit, his tongue working you over with relentless, rough strokes.

“You’re going to scream for me,” he muttered against you, his voice vibrating through your core. “Let your friends hear how much you need this.”

“Fuck—no,” you managed to gasp, though your voice wavered.

Wooyoung laughed, the sound dark and cruel. “We’ll see about that.” He intensified his movements, his tongue moving in ruthless circles while his fingers dug into your thighs, holding you in place.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but it was no use. The combination of his rough touch and skilled tongue was too much. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and a cry slipped out before you could stop it.

“Louder,” he demanded, pulling back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “I want them to hear how much you love this.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, but the defiance was slipping away with every flick of his tongue.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe later,” he said, diving back in with renewed intensity. His tongue moved faster, harder, and you could feel the pressure building again, even more overwhelming than before.

Your resolve crumbled, and you let out a loud moan, unable to hold back. Wooyoung smirked against you, his satisfaction evident as he continued to push you closer to the edge.

“That’s it,” he murmured between strokes. “Scream for me like the needy little slut you are.”

You tried to resist, to stay bratty and defiant, but it was impossible. The pleasure was too intense, his dominance too overwhelming. With a final, desperate cry, you came, your body trembling as the orgasm crashed over you.

He didn’t let up, his tongue working you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a shaking, gasping mess. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening with your arousal, a satisfied smirk on his face.

He stood up from his knees, his eyes dark with a mix of triumph and raw lust. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you again, his hands rough as they grabbed your wrists and pulled you toward the desk beside you.

“You think we’re done?” he growled, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “Not even close.”

You tried to muster some defiance, but the intensity of the situation left you breathless. “You’re such an asshole,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky.

“And you’re about to learn just how much of an asshole I can be,” he replied, pushing you forward so that your upper body was bent over the desk. His hands were on your hips.

Wooyoung didn’t waste any time. You heard the rustle of his clothes as he freed himself, and then you felt the blunt pressure of his cock against your entrance. He didn’t bother with gentleness; he thrust into you in one brutal motion, making you cry out.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his grip on your hips bruising as he started to move, setting a punishing pace. “Bet you love being fucked like this, don’t you?”

You tried to hold onto some semblance of control, to maintain your defiance. “Go to hell,” you spat, though the words were weak, almost drowned out by the sounds of his relentless thrusts.

Wooyoung laughed, a dark, mocking sound. “Already there, sweetheart,” he replied, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm. “And you’re fucking coming with me.”

Each thrust was rough and demanding, pushing you closer to the edge with a ruthless efficiency. You could feel the desk digging into your skin, but the pleasure was overwhelming, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“Such a dirty little slut,” he murmured, leaning over you so that his breath was hot against your ear. “Can’t even form a proper sentence, can you?”

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a broken moan. Wooyoung’s pace quickened, his thrusts growing even more forceful, and you felt the pressure building again, a coil tightening inside you. Wooyoung felt your tight walls pulsing around his cock. 

“You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. “Say it.”

“I—” you gasped, trying to fight the pleasure, but it was useless. “I’m going to—”

“That’s right,” he cut you off, his tone filled with dark satisfaction. “Come for me, you filthy brat.”

The words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a loud cry, your body trembling as the orgasm ripped through you. Wooyoung didn’t let up, his thrusts relentless as he chased his own release.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice filled with contempt and desire. “So desperate and needy. Pathetic.”

He pulled out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could process the loss, he was moving you again, his hands rough as he pushed you toward the bed. You stumbled, falling onto the mattress, and he was on you in an instant, flipping you onto your back.

“Think you can handle more?” he asked, his eyes dark and challenging.

You nodded, too breathless to speak, your body already craving the next wave of pleasure.

“Good,” he said, positioning himself between your legs. 

He entered you again, the angle different but no less brutal. Your hands clutched at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself as he pounded into you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge once more. He took your thigh and pressed it against your chest, thrusting deeper. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his grip on your thigh hard enough to leave marks. “Such a perfect little slut for me.”

The pleasure was overwhelming, turning your mind into a hazy blur. You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as he fucked you with a relentless intensity, pouring all the rage from earlier into it. 

“Can’t even talk, can you?” he mocked, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “Too dumb from getting fucked by my cock.”

You tried to respond, but all that came out was a series of incoherent moans. Wooyoung’s thrusts grew even more forceful, and you felt the pressure building again, another orgasm threatening to crash over you.

“You’re going to come again,” he said, his tone commanding. “And you’re going to scream my name when you do.”

You shook your head, trying to hold onto some shred of defiance, but it was useless. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming. With a final, brutal thrust, you came, your body arching off the bed as the orgasm tore through you, as you screamed his name. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. He continued to move, his pace never faltering, pushing you through the aftershocks and into another wave of pleasure.

By the time he finally came, his release hot and overwhelming inside you, you were a trembling, incoherent mess. He pulled out slowly, leaving you breathless and spent on the bed.

“See?” he said, his voice filled with mocking satisfaction. “All you needed was to be put in your place.”

You glared at him weakly, the fire of your anger not completely extinguished despite the overwhelming pleasure. “I still hate you,” you managed to say, though your voice was weak, more breathless.

“And I still hate you too,” he replied, his expression hard. “But at least now you know what happens when you push me too far.”

The room was filled with the tension of your unresolved hatred, the physical release doing nothing to ease the animosity between you. As you lay there, trying to catch your breath and regain some sense of composure, one thing was clear: the war between you and Wooyoung was far from over, but for now, you had been thoroughly defeated.

————————

Outside Wooyoung’s room, Yunho, San, Mingi, and Yeosang were still gathered, exchanging knowing glances and quiet laughter as they waited for the inevitable explosion of another argument. However, when the first loud moan echoed through the door, their expressions changed from amusement to shock.

“Did you just hear that?” San asked, eyes wide, looking at the others for confirmation.

“Yeah, I definitely heard something,” Yunho replied, raising an eyebrow. “That didn’t sound like an argument.”

Mingi covered his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “I think they’re… uh… working things out in a different way.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened as another, louder moan filtered through the door, followed by a string of incoherent words. “Oh my god, they’re really going at it,” he said, looking both amused and slightly horrified.

Yunho shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, this is unexpected.”

San smirked, nudging Yunho. “Guess our plan worked a little too well.”

Mingi couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. “Should we just… leave them to it?”

Yeosang nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I don’t think they need an audience for this.”

Yunho stood up, clapping his hands together. “Alright, everyone. Let’s give them some privacy. I think they’ve got enough to handle without us hanging around.”

San stretched, yawning dramatically. “Yeah, I could use a break from all the drama anyway.”

As they gathered their things, another particularly loud moan resonated through the door, making them all wince and then burst into laughter.

“Okay, that’s our cue to leave,” Mingi said, heading towards the front door.

“Maybe we should go get some ice cream or something,” Yeosang suggested. “Give them plenty of time to… sort things out.”

Yunho nodded, opening the door. “Good idea. I think we all need a break from this craziness.”

As they left the house, the moans and muffled sounds of pleasure faded into the background, replaced by the summer evening's quiet hum.

“You know, I always thought they’d kill each other before anything like this happened,” San said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Guess there’s a fine line between love and hate,” Yunho chuckled.

“Or in their case, a very loud, very thin line,” Mingi added, laughing.

As they headed down the street, leaving Wooyoung and you to your privacy, the group couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It seemed that locking you two up together had definitely brought some unexpected results.

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo asks you out to a wedding

exes to lovers

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In his defence, Theo landed on your doorstep only after he had exhausted all other options. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and knocked. After a minute or two, he heard the patter of hurried footsteps and the door swung open.

"Hey."

Your face looked a little less round, perhaps. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, but your eyes looked just as sweet and forgiving as they always did. Only now

"Hey."

No open hostility. Theo could work with that. He was starting to feel a little hot in his suit. He scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed at the action.

"What do you want?"

Theo coughed awkwardly.

"Why do you just assume I want something?"

The corner of your lip quirked up.

"I dated you for years, Theodore. I think I know when you want something."

He took a deep breath and stuck his hands into his pockets, glancing at the door as he struggled to meet your eye. He should have brought flowers or something. Merlin, what was so nerve-wracking about talking to you? He did it plenty enough, once upon a time.

"I...need a favour."

"I figured."

Theo wished you'd stop staring at him so plainly. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head up at him while you patiently waited for him to spit out whatever he had to say.

"Mattheo's getting married," he blurted out.

Instantly, your face softened. Theo felt a pang of guilt somewhere deep inside his gut. When the two of you were dating, you always had a soft spot for Mattheo, as did he for you. In fact, he seemed more heartbroken than Theo after the breakup. But the fact remained that he, like a lot of your mutual friends, knew Theo before you, and so his social circle remained somewhat intact while you faded into oblivion.

He hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but seeing your face light up made him realise that this must be the first you had heard about any of your old friends since graduation. He had never meant to tear you away from friends who were every bit yours as they were his.

Then again, he had never wanted to break up with you in the first place.

Your lips curved into a familiar smile that tugged at something inside his chest.

"That's...wow. I'm so happy for him. That's incredible."

"It is. I'm the best man."

"I should hope so. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Another painful silence drew out between the two of you. Theo stared at his palm uncomfortably.

"I need a date," he forced out.

You looked unimpressed.

"And? None of your model girlfriends can make it?"

Theo had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm sick of - they're not my girlfriends."

"Right," you drawled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too famous to be tied down, are we?"

Theo pulled at the knot of his tie desperately. He didn't remember you being this frustrating.

"I don't want to take any of them."

You shrugged. "Then go solo."

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone's bringing a plus one."

You leaned towards him with a sardonic smile.

"That's the wonderful thing about not being your girlfriend anymore. Not. My. Problem. Bye now."

Theo jammed his foot in as you unsuccessfully tried to close the door.

"I'll pay you."

You laughed incredulously. "You can't be serious."

It had been a long shot, but he was running out of ideas. He dragged a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" What did you want? "More attention? More gifts? I'll pay for your dress. I'll buy you dinner."

"Careful, or I'll think this is an actual date."

"Please, Y/N," he started saying before his brain could catch up. "We used to be so good together."

Your eyes darkened. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"What happened?"

You folded your arms, your eyes gleaming in the dusk that had settled around the two of you. You shook your head almost helplessly.

"I don't know. You were...you were great. I loved you. You loved me. You started playing Quidditch. You got good." Your pressed your lips into a thin line. "Then you got mean."

Theo scoffed half-heartedly. "Look, I didn't -"

"You stopped listening to me, Teddy," you interrupted.

That shut him up. He didn't know what to say. You didn't sound upset or even angry. Just hollow and a little disappointed.

You took the invitation Theo had been loosely holding and scanned the details.

"What the hell," you muttered. "Sure. Why not?"

Theo blinked a few times. As hard as he had tried to persuade you, he hadn't expected you to actually agree.

"Really?"

He looked so earnest, you couldn't help yourself. You rolled your eyes almost affectionately.

"Keep your wallet away. I'll foot the bill for my dress."

"No - please, let m- "

There, in the dim twilight, with the salty evening air stinging your faces, you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Night, Teddy," you murmured.

This time, he didn't try to stop you as you shut the door.

[yandere-sins]

The Octopodes' Tale - Chapter I

First Chapter! I am excited since we are meeting someone for the first time and get to make a new decision :3 Thank you everyone who promptly voted, I think we can do it with the three day polls ♥ Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Octopus Mermen x GN!AFAB!Reader Words: ~3k  Warnings: Yandere, Monsters (Tentacels, Oversized Mention, Mermaids, Monster Appearances), Violence (Thrashing Underwater, Almost Drowning, Panic), Fear of potential harm to human/animal, Long Post

You’ve made the right choice, human. I shall wait for my beloved’s return, so don’t forget your promise to me as you get to know and care for him in my stead until then!

Letting your head fall into your palm, you rubbed the tension points on your temple and forehead. It was hard enough to focus on the small script and the countless pages, so a headache wasn’t exactly helpful for the task. You had to keep reminding yourself to focus as your thoughts trailed off, your mind imagining strange voices speaking to you just so it could escape the exhausting task of reading the contract. You would have just up and left if you knew just how extensive and partly incomprehensible the contract was. With all the jargon embedded in it, who knew what you were really signing off on with it.

The clacking of a fresh glass of water being placed in front of you barely tore you out of the focus you tried desperately to hold on to. You merely mumbled, “Thank you,” and reached for it, taking a swig from the glass. With a sigh, you set it back down on the table, realizing how much you needed it. In fact, your body was already screaming for you to get up and walk a bit, maybe even go to the toilet and grab a snack afterward. By making sure everything was in order on the bureaucracy side, you had managed to neglect yourself completely, and you were now paying the price with your shoulders and neck aching from sitting and hovering over the contract for too long. 

Leaning back, you decided it was time for a much-needed break. With a sudden, energized jolt, you jumped to your feet, stretched towards the ceiling until you could hear your bones and muscles pop back into place, and turned towards the door. Walking over the pool to reach it, you peered into the water below your feet as it swayed calmly. There was no sign of your potential future protégé. Fine with you, after all, octopodes liked to hide. Yet, when your hand reached for the handle of the door leading outside the enclosure, gripping and pushing it down, for some reason, it wouldn’t budge. 

Furrowing your brows, you gave it a shake, and another one for good measure. “What the…” you mumbled, trying to open the door unsuccessfully. Looking up from the handle, you looked around to see any indicator of it being locked, until your eyes fell on a number pad to your left. Its numbers had a green glow all around them, proving they were active, and you realized only now that naturally they’d close off a room with a precious specimen inside. However, locking you in with the specimen seemed somewhat dangerous. 

Trying your luck, you pushed in the most basic codes you knew, like 1111 and 1234. You tried to remember if the Professor said anything about this specimen’s number or maybe the enclosure number that could work as a code, albeit much too easy to guess.

“7945,” you heard someone say behind you, and you promptly pushed it in, the known sound of correctness followed by the door unlocking, filling you with the feeling of accomplishment. You whirled around, starting to say, “Thank you!” again when your eyes met those of half a face peeking out of the water, gleaming with curiosity. 

You gasped loudly, your back hitting the cold wall behind you, and you even bumped your head. The creature made a small squeak, eyes widening before they let go of the pool’s edge they had held onto and slipped back into the water. It all happened so quickly that you wondered if you had just imagined it or hit your head too hard, so it was just an illusion. Your scientific instinct, trained from curiosity, the years of studies, and doing minor field work, prompted you to step up to the pool and look into it, ensuring that whatever lurked inside wasn’t as human as it had looked. But for some reason, your body protested. 

As soon as the door opened, you slipped out, slamming your hand against the number pad to initiate closing again before pressing your body against the wall on the other side, watching as nothing seemed to come after you. Your knees shook as if you had just been on the run, your body sending inexplicable signals of fleeing despite this facility being one of the safest places on earth. However, the mere glimpse of the bright yellow eyes beneath an unnatural shade of red surrounding them had been enough to send you running. Even your brain had trouble processing what it had seen, and you felt the headache throb as you strained yourself. 

Maybe you truly had just imagined it. 

Perhaps you were in dire need of getting some help with your basic necessities. Some fresh air, some food, and water. It felt like you had to walk a small eternity until you bumped into another person who pointed you towards the staffroom. Greeted by snacks and drinks for the employees, you immediately felt better, and some other researchers picked up a conversation with you until your headache was almost forgotten. It was exactly the break you needed, and yet, you felt yourself slowly space out while a possible future colleague of yours monologued about the new aquatic plants they acquired for their research. 

Holding a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in your hand, you watched the color slosh back and forth, images of red and yellow hitting you again and again. So many strange things had already happened since you came here, including the peculiar NDAs, secretiveness, and voices you had heard. Someone brought you water, but you hadn’t even noticed someone coming or going from the room that was apparently locked and deadbolted without the right passcode. 

Your eyes widened.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” you mumbled, leaving the puzzled researchers and your half-full glass of juice behind as you hurried out of the recreation room. That’s right, you thought. Someone did bring you water, and you drank from it. It had definitely been real. And if that was the case, then someone was with you in that room, which meant it was dangerous for either them or the giant octopus living there. If something happened to either, not only would it put your potential new job in danger, but it was also possible that it would be blamed on you. 

Hurrying down the corridors you came from, you tried to stop yourself from thinking about how much it would cost if they sued you for the death of a very delicate specimen. Even more so, the death of a human. Despite still being a rookie, you had the potential skills and knowledge to avoid potential harm, and you doubted anyone could have gotten back as fast to the enclosure as you had if you had to explain what was going on first. 

You almost missed your destination, coming to a fumbling stop when you reached the door. With all the adrenaline rushing through you, you punched the numbers into the number pad, not waiting for the door to open fully until you squeezed through the gap.

“Hello? HELLO!” you yelled into the giant enclosure, hoping to receive some kind of verbal feedback on where the other person could be. “Is someone there?!” 

Panicked, you ran across the walkway and to the other side, checking behind the working surfaces and machinery if someone was taking shelter, perhaps hurt or unconscious. But even after searching every nook and cranny, you found no one, the first rational thoughts returning to your mind as you wondered if you had imagined it after all. Suddenly, you heard the water splash loudly, and immediately raced back to see what was happening. Countless bubbles were going to the surface until suddenly, glaringly red tentacles shot out from them, the color a clear warning sign. Whatever was going on inside the pool, the octopus was either warning or fighting, its arms trying to find something to hold on to as if it wanted to pull itself up. 

To you, it looked like a struggle.

Without a second thought, you shrugged off your jacket and dove off the edge. The water pressure threatened to rob your lungs of all the air in them, but you prevailed. You used to train both your lung capacity and your swimming skills once you determined that marine biology was the job you wanted to pursue. After all, you never know what kind of situation you’d get into when researching. Still, the water stung in your eyes as you tried to keep them open, countless bubbles hitting your face and obscuring the view. 

You had to admit to yourself that it was reckless. Jumping into the habitat of a possibly dangerous creature without telling anyone, but you couldn’t have forgiven yourself if you didn’t try to save either of the two that needed rescuing. Even beneath the surface, you could hear the struggle, the loud whizzing of the arms through the water. You managed to avoid being hit by them for a long time, quickly descending towards the ground where you assumed the creature was. But when you suddenly felt a weight wrap around your ankle, sticking to your wet clothes, you realized your mistake. 

Your lungs tightened as they braced for impact that never came. You expected to be slammed down to the ground, now that the tentacle had latched on to you. From then on, it would be a matter of very few time if you could survive this. If the octopus was nice enough to let you go, you could have potentially breeched the surface when you were about to lose all the air left in you, but if it was panicking, you’d probably get stuck or attacked down there for too long, unable to save anyone after being the one in a predicament. 

Hands clasped over your mouth, you pressed your eyes shut, tensing all your muscles to survive the crash, but instead, the water suddenly calmed. You felt fewer bubbles caress you as the world quieted. Only the tentacle remained where it had first latched on, wrapped tightly around your ankle as you slowly opened your eyes. 

Only to find two bright yellow ones staring back at you. 

Out of surprise, you gasped, water suddenly flooding into your well-protected mouth as if you had forgotten where you were. You immediately shut it again, but the damage was already done as you had inhaled the water, unable to cough it up. Panicked, your body began to struggle. The years of training to stay calm seemed forgotten as you wanted nothing more than to get up and out of the water. You flailed wildly, staring upwards towards the ceiling light shining blurrily down into the water as the last bits of air rushed out of your mouth. 

Two big hands wrapped around your face, keeping your head steady as your heart skipped a beat. The touch was gentle, although you felt the resistance all around you. Was the octopus about to crush your head? Wait, hands?!

Next you knew, lips sealed yours, tightly, the water from your mouth disappearing in exchange for fresh air. Bubbles surrounded you again, but you paid them no mind as you clung to the strange air supply, more and more tentacles wrapping around your body. You almost felt like you were going crazy as you forced your eyes to open again, peering at the shiny yellow ones across from you, half-lidded and so very human and so little octopus, even though the animal still clung to your body. 

A tongue entered your mouth, its tip exploring your teeth until its prodding abruptly made you flinch, the taste of blood filling your senses.

And all of a sudden, your head breached the surface, bouncing out of it with vigor. 

“There, there,” someone mumbled gently, a hand rubbing your back and patting it lightly as you started to cough violently. Being back in the air was hardly enough, as waves kept crashing into you and making you sputter. You oriented yourself briefly before swimming towards the edge, reaching out and clinging to it once you were near enough, the other person following you. Even now, you could still feel the octopus’s suction cups all over you, sometimes popping off and finding different places to wrap around, one tip slipping beneath your t-shirt, steadying you, but also clinging to your exposed back.

“I told you to be nice!” you heard a familiar voice shout from your right, and suddenly, two pairs of arms hooked beneath your shoulders, pulling you out of the water. Most of the tentacles popped off you, although some remained, holding on steady like the one around your ankle, and making it much harder to get you away from the pool. 

There was a clatter as someone dropped to their knees next to you, giving your back a few very hard slaps as you kept sputtering out water. “Are you alright?” someone asked, and you looked up for the first time, glimpsing into the worried eyes of some of the researchers you had met on your break. 

“Take it easy,” the person beside you sighed, and you gave them a quick glance, seeing the Professor’s tense expression. You nodded, slowly stumbling to your feet as everyone seemed to release some of the tension. 

“I’m glad we made it in time.” Holding out towels and medikits, the researchers scrabbled around you, assisting you and pulling up a chair for you to sit in, while the Professor got back on his feet with a groan, picking up his walking stick and shooting you one last worried glance before turning around. 

“Stop holding on to them!” he commanded, slamming his stick into the ground. But what should have sounded like wood clonking on metal made a squishy sound instead, followed by a yelp and the release of the last remaining tentacle around your ankle. “What in the world were you thinking, pulling them beneath the water?!”

Slowly, your strength returned, the adrenaline leaving you, and in its place, only exhaustion remained. But regardless, you looked up to the Professor, only now realizing that two armed guards stood on either side of him, weapons pointed towards the water, and there…

A young man, with uncanny yet recognizable features, cradled one of the red tentacles in his hands. 

He was gigantic, much bigger than all the men in this room. His slicked-back hair fell in fiery red strands around his face, elevating his golden eyes that stared at the Professor sulkily. However, his gaze occasionally went lower. Instead of the Professor, he was looking at you ever so often, his features growing a little less tense, but curious and perhaps a little worried. The tentacle in his hold still had the same angry or wary red tone as before when you thought the octopus was in danger, and it was held by his large hands, the very same palms that you remembered gently cupping your face before… before… he kissed you. 

It wasn’t the time and place to feel ashamed all of a sudden, still the heat rose into your face, and you quickly wiped the towel over it as if to dry your skin. It had been your first kiss, although you expected that to go wildly different. You felt crazy to think about that right now, when you should be more concerned about what was happening around you, and you pinched your thigh to regain your focus. 

“Something was happening, and I was just trying to help, I swear!” the man in the water claimed, his voice restless. “I was just protecting them, I didn’t want to hurt them! Please, you have to believe me, I’ve been so good all this time! I always listen to what you tell me...”

A wave of guilt washed over you as you felt responsible. Surely, it wouldn’t put you in a good light with the facility to tell them you acted on some crazy thoughts of yours and freaked out over apparently nothing. Everything was calm, even the octopus seemed to have settled again while all of you were talking. But with the man still in the water, he was still in danger, especially with guns pointed at him, making it almost impossible to move. 

“Excuse me?” you called out, having to clear your throat as your voice cracked after all the coughing. As you stood up, the worried researchers followed your movements closely, not wanting you to faint or collapse from the strain. There was a real possibility that in a minute, they’d regret being so worried about you after the ruckus you caused. You’d probably never shake off the incident when you started working here. You would always be remembered as that person who almost drowned on their first day. Some would think you were out for attention or simply annoying and unsuited for your position. But it still wasn’t right not to at least admit your part in all of this, right? Even if it felt silly and embarrassing, you had to do something!

Thoughts and reasoning as always, is welcome! ♥

[dark-fics-4-you]

Crying in the Country Club ch. V

dark!Rafe Cameron x dark!Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lying about birth control, baby trapping, mention of previous attempted assault, public sex, infidelity, manipulative and aggressive behavior, breeding kink, slight burn injury

Stepping out onto the Cameron’s back patio, you were pleased to find that the forecast was spot on. It was definitely warm enough to go swimming.

Your gaze settled on the glimmering pool, before looking around the backyard to spot Mr. Cameron.

Your mom and Rebecca were sitting on the porch swing, seemingly engrossed in conversation, but you didn’t miss the way Rebecca subtly gave your body a once over before nervously glancing over at her husband.

Nearing Rafe and your dad by the grill, you paused to ask what was on the menu for tonight.

You grinned sweetly at Rafe, enjoying watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed after taking you in.

Not wanting to waste an opportunity to get him flustered, you had chosen one of your more revealing swimsuits, a strappy dark teal green bikini paired with a teal blue wrap skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Just some burgers and hot dogs, Y/N,” your dad answered with a smile, not noticing his best friend beside him clenching his jaw tighter than before.

“Cool! Um, can I have a burger, with cheese?” You asked.

“You got it,” he answered. “But it’ll probably be about half an hour before we start cooking.”

“Okay!”

As you walked past them towards the pool, you unsuccessfully tried to stop yourself from glancing back to sneak another peak of Mr. Cameron, and you felt your heart skip a beat when you caught him staring at you as you left.

Your cheeks were flushed when you reached the chair where Charlie was lounging, and she raised a curious eyebrow when you greeted her.

“Are you getting burnt already?”

“No,” you laughed, reaching to your waist to peel off your wrap skirt. “But I could use a little sunscreen.”

Charlie grabbed the bottle beside her and passed it to you.

You thanked her as you poured some into your hands to start spreading onto your face. After making sure it was all rubbed in, you squirted more into your hands to massage into your chest and shoulders.

Tossing a glance over your shoulder, you were unsurprised to see Rafe staring again, and you made a little show of rubbing the oily lotion across your cleavage as you pretended not to notice him.

It had only been a week since you had snuck into his room after the party and it had been nearly impossible to stay away from Mr. Cameron.

Your waking hours had been possessed by daydreaming about Rafe. Imagining him catching you in the house, pining you to the wall with a large hand clamped over your mouth and fucking you while you had to stay quiet to avoid being caught was a frequent fantasy of yours, one that you really hoped he would act out on you.

But your imagination stretched further than just that. You couldn’t help but insert yourself into scenes of domesticity with him. You liked picturing the two of you in the cameron household together. Rafe would praise you for cooking dinner, wrapping his arms around you, before a protective hand settled on your swollen belly.

Ever since the party, you had felt more determined than ever to have his child.

You knew that he was off limits on so many levels, he was your father’s best friend and your best friend’s dad (not to mention he was married and more than twice your age), but deep down you knew that the depravity of it all was exactly what drew you to Rafe in the first place.

Although, it wasn’t like Charlie had been the best friend to you recently. You were still somewhat pissed off that she had let you stay out at that party where you had been attacked alone.

You shuddered thinking about what might have happened if Mr. Cameron hadn’t arrived in time to save you.

As quickly as the thought arose, you buried it, not wanting to get caught up thinking about what had happened at the party.

What had happened after the party was of much more interest to you.

You could still remember how amazing it felt to come undone around him and how desperately he had kissed you that night. Goosebumps erupted across your skin when you recalled how Rafe had sounded groaning your name as you squeezed around him.

God you wished that he had finished inside of you; although you couldn’t deny how hot it was to be covered in his seed.

A heat was rising inside of you, and you knew that it wasn’t just from the hot Carolina sun.

Throwing another glance towards the porch, you could see your dad and Mr. Cameron beginning to grill the burgers and hot dogs, while your mom and Mrs. Cameron were still chatting on the swing.

Pressing the back of your hand to your forehead, you could feel the sweat beginning to form and you knew it was time to cool off.

Leaving your wrap skirt behind, you left the pool to approach the house, watching Rafe as you got closer.

His jaw clenched when he spotted you, interrupting his sentence midway as he lost his train of thought.

Your dad turned to see what had distracted Rafe, shooting you a confused and questioning look.

“I’m getting really hot,” you explained, not missing the way Rafe’s hungry gaze had swept over your body. “Do you have any ice cream?”

Your question was aimed at Rafe, who you innocently smiled at, and you felt triumphant when he stumbled over his words.

“Um y-yeah, Y/N, there’s some um.” He paused, trying to collect himself in front of your father without drawing any suspicion. “Some popsicles in the… um in the freezer.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, thanks!” You grinned before continuing to the back door.

Rafe stared at you, watching the way your ass moved when you walked. His mouth was watering, jaw clenched so tight it was amazing it didn’t snap off. He was so distracted, he wasn’t looking when his arm got a little too close to the grill.

Inside the kitchen, you walked up to their large fridge, opening the freezer section before looking around for the popsicles Rafe had mentioned.

You grabbed a cherry flavored one out of the bag and took off its wrapper before sliding it between your lips.

The sweet, refreshing treat hit the spot, beginning to cool you down instantly.

You heard the door open and you turned to see who had followed you inside, not surprised to see Rafe.

But you weren’t expecting him to rush to the sink to run cold water over a fresh, red burn right below his elbow.

“Shit-!” He cursed, exhaling lowly as the cool water soothed the burn. You could tell it wasn’t too bad of an injury.

“You can’t be pulling shit like that in front of me, kid,” Rafe scolded you. “Especially not when your dad is standing right next to me, fuck!”

He finally turned to look at you, and his breath hitched as he watched you suggestively slide the popsicle across your lips, staining them red with the melting juices.

“You hurt yourself?” You asked with wide concerned eyes.

Rafe’s jaw clenched before he licked his lips, staring down at you with an obvious mixture of annoyance and arousal.

“How did that happen?” You lightly teased, reaching a hand out to touch his unburned arm. You slid your fingers over his muscles as you drew closer, sucking on the cherry popsicle as you stared up at him through your lashes.

Your heart was racing, you were just so excited to finally be alone with him again.

“It was your fucking fault, Y/N-” he snapped, grabbing your wrist with a tight grip before suddenly stopping himself and releasing you.

You were surprised by the force behind his grip, but Rafe had let you go before you could even protest, and he stared down at you as he breathed heavily. You could tell he was trying to hold himself back by the veins that bulged near his temples and in his neck.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but you’re not making it any easier for me when you walk around my place wearing…” he trailed off as he gestured at your bikini. “It’s distracting.”

“Oh, sorry, Mr. Cameron,” you purred, noticing his eye twitch when you called him ‘Mr. Cameron.’

“Are you trying to get us caught?”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“Y/D/N would fucking kill me if he had any idea of what we did-”

“I know, I know,” you frowned, not liking feeling like Rafe was chiding you like a kid.

He noticed the change in your tone of voice, letting out a sigh before wrapping his good arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. His fingertips danced over your exposed skin and you leaned your head against his chest, thrilled to have such close contact with him.

“I’m just saying, we need to be careful. There’s no need for anyone to know what happened. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror before leaving, feeling confident in your pale pink mini skirt and matching polo sweater.

Walking through the living room, you let your parent’s know you were going golfing with Rafe before you ducked into the garage to grab your clubs.

After a short drive, you parked in the Cameron’s driveway, waving at Rafe as you got out of your car.

He was leaning against his golf cart waiting for you when you walked out, and he offered to take the heavy bag from you to load it into the back.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” He looked you up and down again, clearly pleased with your outfit choice. “You look very nice.”

You beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat, scooting closer to Rafe as he backed out of the driveway and started heading for the course.

Looking out at the greens as you approached, you noticed how few players were out today. It must have been because of how hot it was.

You fanned yourself with your hand as Rafe pulled up to the first hole and parked under some trees.

After stepping out of the golf cart, you grabbed your driver out of your bag, thanking Mr. Cameron when he handed you a tee and a ball before stepping onto the green.

“Let’s see if you’ve improved anymore since we last played, huh?” Rafe teased with a grin. “Have you been practicing?”

“Yes sir,” you replied playfully. You bent down to place your tee into the ground and set up the ball, hoping that Rafe would get a peek of your white panties under your skirt.

“Remember what I told you la-” his voice caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of your underwear.

“What’s that?” You asked him sweetly, correcting your posture so you could turn and meet his eyes with an innocent smile.

“Um-” Rafe paused, his adam’s apple bobbing as he dryly swallowed. “Here, turn around again.”

You followed his instructions, turning your back to him as he pressed closer to adjust your form.

“You gotta keep your legs just a bit further apart, kid.” Rafe reached a hand down to your thigh, pressing gently on your exposed skin just below your skirt to urge you to spread your legs.

“Yeah, you want to have good balance,” his deep voice from behind and his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and goosebumps rose where he had brushed your upper thigh.

“And then you need to lean back just a little bit.”

His hands found your hips, pulling you back towards him, and you let out a quiet moan when you felt him press his hard on against your ass.

“Make sure you’re gripping the club the right way, sweetheart,” his voice strained as he ground his hard on against your core.

Your brain was getting fuzzy and you could feel a wet patch on your panties getting damper. You fumbled with the golf club, trying to get a better grip on it because your palms were beginning to feel so sweaty.

Finally, you managed to swing and hit the ball, but Rafe didn’t even wait to see where it went, easily scooping you up into his arms and rushing to carry you back to the golf cart, pressing hot kisses into your neck the entire way.

He put you down onto the seat but you surprised him when you moved to the floor of the cart on your knees in between his legs.

You palmed his cock through his shorts and he groaned, eagerly reaching for his button and zipper.

Rafe freed his erection from his boxers and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

The night you had snuck into his room, you had been so desperate to feel him inside of you that you hadn’t had the chance to stop and really look at him.

You reached out, wrapping your hand around the base of his length. His dick was probably around 8 inches, maybe more, and girthy, with a long vein bulging out and leading to his cut tip.

He was breathing heavily, eyes widening when you pursed your lips, letting a string of saliva drip onto his hard cock before meeting his eyes again.

Rafe watched as you slowly stroked him, once, twice, and then a third time.

You licked your lips before parting them and your hot tongue met his tip, licking off the bead of precum that had gathered there. He tasted salty and he let out a moan as he watched your eyes roll back in your head from the taste.

As your soft lips wrapped around him, the older man’s hand tangled into your hair, pushing you down to take more of him as his hips shifted upwards. You pressed your tongue flat against the bottom of your mouth, stretching your lips to accommodate his size.

“There you go, Y/N. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” his grip on your hair tightened the deeper he inched forward, and you looked up at him through your lashes as your eyes began to water.

When he hit the back of your throat, you gagged, choking on his length when he held you in place for a few moments.

You looked up at him with wide, surprised teary eyes, and Rafe couldn’t hold back his groan.

“You can take it.” His gruff voice only stirred your need to prove yourself to him, and the hot tears that you blinked away barely registered in your mind.

When he finally released you, he slid his cock out enough for you to take a breath before he pushed himself in again, even deeper than the last time.

“God, you’re doing so good f’me angel,” he groaned, and you squeezed your thighs together when you felt yourself grow slicker from his praise.

Tears kissed your waterline as his fingers threaded through your hair. Your core practically pulsed with want and you brought your free hand between your legs, teasing your clit over your soaked panties as you continued bobbing your head up and down the length of his cock.

Spit collected at the corner of your lips, dribbling down your chin as Rafe’s hand guided you faster.

Unable to ignore the burning desire between your legs anymore, you pulled away, climbing onto his lap and sloppily kissing him before he could ask what you were doing.

Rafe kissed you back, his large hands coming to your hips and held you in place so he could grind against your core.

He groaned into the kiss, but pulled back with a disappointed look on his face, and your heart started to sink before he spoke.

“We don’t have condoms-“ he started but you cut him off.

“I’m on birth control.”

The lie slipped out easier than you expected, but you weren’t entirely sure if Rafe would believe you. Or if he would insist you use a condom anyway.

For a few heart pounding moments he just stared at you with a strange look before finally breaking into a cocky grin.

“Shit, you should have told me that last week sweetheart,” Rafe growled, already reaching his hand beneath your skirt to pull your panties to the side.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you couldn’t linger on them for long because Rafe’s hands were on your hips, lining himself up with your slick entrance and slowly pushing you down onto his cock.

The sharp gasp that fell past your lips was quickly muffled when the older man’s hand clamped over your mouth. You whimpered against him as he filled you up, enjoying the way he stretched you out from this angle.

Trying to ground yourself, you slid your arm above his shoulder and around the back of his neck. When he bottomed out and held you in place, fingers gripping your hips so hard it almost hurt, you squirmed in his lap, desperately needing some kind of friction.

“Squeezin’ me so tight-" he groaned through gritted teeth.

He withdrew his hand from your mouth, trailing it to your hips before crawling under your shirt and grasping at your waist. Trails of hot fire danced on your skin where he touched you, and you felt almost delirious with want.

Your pleading eyes met his as you tried to grind your hips against him, and you felt him pulse inside you at the sound of your quieted whimpers.

Rafe kept his eyes locked on yours as his hips started to move, finally giving you the stimulation that you so badly needed.

You met each stroke with the tilt of your hips as he thrusted deep inside you, cheeks burning as you felt yourself dripping around him.

His lips found yours again and when his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, you moaned against the kiss, clenching tight around his length as he snapped his hips against yours.

Rafe broke the kiss, letting his lips meet your neck before mumbling against your skin, “Gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You bit your lip, trying to stop your whimpers and soft cries of pleasure. Rafe’s hands had left your waist and were now creeping under your skirt to grasp at your thighs, fingertips digging into your soft flesh.

His lips were still attached to your neck, nipping and sucking on the tender skin as your hips met his every thrust.

In the back of your mind, you knew that you probably should have been more worried about getting caught, but the feeling of Rafe’s cock dragging along your snug walls made you forget all of your worries.

He slid one hand between your legs, thumb circling around your clit.

Your moan was smothered by his lips, and you eagerly bucked your hips into his touch as he picked up his pace.

Looking into his eyes, you could help but feel your heart skip a beat. You felt like you were being seen for the first time, and you couldn’t stop the strong surge of emotions that rose in your chest.

You had been trying to ignore what you thought could have been just irrational feelings for years, but now you couldn’t help but feel that they hadn’t been so irrational after all.

With every push of his cock, you felt more and more sure that Rafe was finally starting to see you the way you saw him.

Rafe Cameron was more than a passing crush to you, and you had never intended to just be an affair to him.

You loved him so deeply that at times it scared you how far you were willing to go to make him yours.

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all week,” he groaned, thumb pressing harder against your clit as his hips snapped against yours.

Your pulse skipped a beat at his confession and you wondered if sex had been the only thing he had been thinking about or if he wanted more.

The heat building between your legs was undeniable now, and the sudden thought of Rafe finally coming inside you made you clench down around him.

“You feel s-so good,” you whispered, eyes rolling back in your head when he hit a spot deep inside you; and you could feel yourself getting wetter with each stroke of his cock.

You gripped his back as the pad of his thumb swirled around your clit and you tilted your head up to kiss him again.

Rafe pushed his tongue past your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth and the pressure building between your legs finally became too much.

You squirmed in his arms as you came around him, but Rafe never slowed his tempo, holding you in place as you pulsed around him, squeezing his cock as your orgasm washed over you.

The older man tightened his grip on your hips, thrusting harder and harder until his hips finally stuttered and he spilled his hot sticky seed deep inside you with a low groan.

Feeling Rafe cum inside you for the first time was enough to send you over the edge a second time and you tensed in his lap as you came around him again.

Trying to catch your breath was a challenge and you didn’t want to get off of his lap, but Rafe lifted you up, pulling your soaked panties back into place before sitting you down next to him in the cart as he tucked himself back into his shorts.

He looked around the course for a moment, and then he met your gaze, reaching a hand up to stroke your cheek as your heart beat loudly in your chest.

“C’mon kid, we got a round of golf to finish,” he smirked.

[specshroom]

★ - Some assistance

You and your boyfriend are lounging on the couch in the living room, winding down after a long day. He's drinking his evening tea and reading while you unsuccessfully distract yourself by flicking through channels on the TV. You decide to just come out and ask what you've been meaning to ask for awhile now.

"Kento? Do you think you could make me squirt?"

This poor man chokes on his tea and almost messes it on his home shirt. He just looks at you with a face that says "Why would you ask me something like that so suddenly?" You just look at him deadpan waiting for his response. He clears his throat and composes himself, realising it was a somewhat serious question and his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé, hopefully) wasn't just playing some dumb joke. 

"Well... I'm sure I could try, Y/n. But why bring that up so out of the blue, if you mind me asking."

He responds, as polite as always. He makes you feel so safe in his presence it's almost supernatural.

"Uh... I've just been thinking about it for awhile, I guess." He places his mug on the coffee table, the one that says "Live, Laugh, Love" in exaggerated curly font, courtesy of Gojo. He doesn't know why you insist on making his tea in that mug but he drinks it every time anyway. He brings your legs into his lap and lightly massages them silently asking you to continue. 

"I'm just curious to see if I can is all. Whenever I've tried to do it myself, I always just get too sensitive and stop, but... If I had someone else do it, I think I might actually be able to."

You explain this to him almost like a scientist explains their hypothesis, like you've thought about it for awhile. He rubs under your shins and thinks for a bit. he would very much like to be the one to make you squirt and he's confident in his abilities but he also doesn't want you to be upset if you end up not being able to do it.

"I also just think it would be really hot if you made me squirt." 

That breaks him out of his thoughts with a disbelieving huff. 

"The problem is that when I get sensitive I'm gonna be yelling for you to stop out of second nature. But you can't stop Kento, you have to keep going until I either squirt or say the safe word. Can you do that, Baby?" Nanami looks up at your serious face, you really have thought about this quite a bit. He nods his head, sealing the deal. You just stare at eachother for a moment longer, the TV still going in the back. You break out in a smile, unable to keep the semi-serious atmosphere. 

"Can- can we do it now?" You ask the man on the opposite end of the couch while you try and stifle a giggle. 

Nanami smiles and pulls you closer to him by your legs. You yelp as you get yanked into his lap where he attacks your neck with kisses. He hoists you up and starts walking to the bedroom. Once he sets you onto your shared bed, you start removing your shirt and shorts while he rummages in the cupboard for a towel that he puts down on the bed before undressing himself.

You're almost shaking with excitement and anticipation. Nanami sits against the headboard in nothing but his boxers, placing the towel on the bed in front of him. He watches as you turn to him with that sultry look in your eyes. You crawl your way up the bed on all fours until you're right between his muscular thighs. Your hands glide up his thighs and waist, you kiss him with need and he reciprocates. You break the connection to feel yourself up infront of him and sensually take off your bra. You present yourself to him and kiss him again before turning around and pressing your back to his chest. 

His hands go to your waist to gently squeeze and rub there. You spare no flare when taking off your panties and you adjust yourself so that both your legs are wide open, slightly bent and his stronger ones are over yours, forcing them to stay open.

"Put your legs like this so that it stops me from closing mine when it gets too sensitive." 

You say as you help him into the position you want. Nanami chuckles and bends down to say lowly into your ear.

"You really have thought this whole thing through, huh?" 

You flush and nod your head as his hand moves down your body to where you want him the most. His touch is gentle at first, lightly stroking down your clit and lips, gathering wetness with his fingers. He starts to work his finger into you and gently rubs your clit with the other hand, coaxing you to melt into his touch. You start moaning and groaning with the pleasure your wonderful boyfriend is giving you. 

With both his hands working on your pussy so diligently, it's no wonder your first orgasm washes over you pretty quickly. Nanami keeps going at the same steady pace after you cum and it's the first out of the ordinary occurrence in this session. You usually would get a grace period after you cum to come down from the high but you and Nanami have a goal. The fact that you get no chance to come down at all is fucking with your brain and the fucked out feeling is just multiplying every second his strong hands play with your pussy. 

Nanami lays back a bit, forcing you to also lay back and expose yourself a bit more as you begin to writhe and squirm. One hand is still diligently circling your clit as he works his two middle fingers into you, slamming into that perfect spot inside you over and over and over again. You get louder and more frantic as the second orgasm hits you. Your head falls back on Nanamis chest as you groan his name. 

"Uuuuh Fuck! Feels so good Kento, soo good, so good, s' good, s' good, s' gud." You mumble and moan to him. Your second orgasm hits you full force and the pleasure doesn't stop or slow down, in fact it only gets more intense. He doesn't even slow down despite you're kicking legs and bucking hips.

Nanami eventually brings you to a third orgasm, now things really start to feel sensitive and your whines and cries of overstimulation get louder but the man doesn't tire. He keeps going, mumbling things like "Cmon, cmon Love." And "You can do it Darling". 

Before you know it the fourth wave hits you like a train, this is where you get frantically desperate as you realize he isnt even slowing down. You're now actively trying to get out of his iron hold, trying to close your legs just a little but his strong thighs keep you open for him. You're squirming and struggling and crying out.

"Wait wait wait wait!".

Your pussy is so raw and sensitive, you almost beg him to slow down but the man is going even stronger now. He's more precise with his movements, touching all the right spots with just the right amount of force to make you weep. 

"Wait Ken! It's sensitive, stoooop stopstopstop!" You hands go to his to try and make him slow down a little but Nanami isn't having any of that. You set out a goal for yourself and clear rules. He is going to make sure you reach your goals like the good partner he is.

He cages your arms against your chest with one arm hugged around you while the other still goes at your clit, rubbing frantic but deliberate circles into the pink flesh with his callous palm. The wet slick sounds of your pussy being bullied by the man you love are drowned out by the sounds coming from your mouth.

You're screaming now, legs shaking and kicking, not nearly strong enough to budge against Nanami's thick thighs forcing them wide open. Your entire body begins convulsing and spasming, you swear you feel like you're going to pee but you don't even have the mind to be concerned about that. You can only scream an intelligible jumble of pleas at this point as your nails dig into his arm. 

"Cmon Honey, just one more f'me, your doing so well."

The praise makes you go even dumber as you're quickly brought to the end of your rope. The last strand snaps and a tidel wave of violent hot pleasure comes crashing down on your entire being. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your screams turn to silent hiccups and overwhelmed chokes.

Your body convulses violently and your back arches off Nanamis chest as he holds you tightly to his chest. It's by far the most intense orgasm of your life and you don't even register the jet of clear liquid shooting out from you untill you hear Nanamis loud groan at the sight.

"There you go, that's my girl."

You're brought back to earth and let out a long groan as Nanami presses up on the hood of your clit to force more squirt out of you, the feeling is even more euphoric than you thought it could ever be. 

Nanami pats your pussy, making sure he gets every last drop out as your wetness trickles down your pussy and ass onto the towel Nanami set down, which was definitely not enough to keep the bed dry. You drop your body completely limp onto Nanamis chest as you both catch your breath.

Nanami releases your arms and your hand immediately goes to cup your swollen, abused pussy with a whine. Nanami chuckles and runs his hands down your back and around your waist, soothing you, bringing you down gently while mumbling little praises. You curl up on top of him and dig your face into his neck with another small whine. 

"Love you s'much." You mumble into his hot skin. He chuckles at you once again. 

"I love you too, Baby."

-★

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

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if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

[mageofmadness]

FILL THE VOID CALEBXMC

(1.2k) ✗✗✗ ☘︎･*:.｡ nsfw [18+] includes: nothing graphically sexual but sexual themes and we're in a club. strip club. whatever you want to call it. caleb mentions tits once. *i'd had this idea for a bit, i might continue it if anyone is interested. then we could earn some fun tags ^ i played it fast and loose with lore, i don't think it matters much. classic mc thinks he's dead, caleb is clearly not, and has been (unsuccessfully) stalking trying to find her. now he's found her. fantastic.

caleb orders a drink as soon as they get there, making a beeline for the bar and standing amongst the sloshed patrons around him. he much rather be at home, but morale is a big deal and it’s someone’s birthday. no, he doesn’t really know the guy, but camaraderie is also a thing, and after carefully exerting all of his excuses, of which he has none (they know this), caleb found himself at the club on a thursday night.

he gets his jack and coke, adds in a round of shots for the table, willing to go out but not start a tab his somewhat-friend’s will rack up, and closes out. he decided on the way here that one drink and a shot is enough to dull his surroundings, which are overwhelmingly loud and overstimulating while sober. caleb finds his party and slides into the booth, giving a laugh at whatever he had missed as someone flags over a girl for bottle service. caleb grimaces into his drink.

she eyes them all, honing in on the weak links with heavy pockets, and spots her targets almost immediately, which does not include caleb, and that’s fine. he’s not really…this type of person. anymore, at all—whichever it is, whichever it has been. he can be, of course. caleb can handle his own, as he is now, laughing and having a good time, but his appreciation for paying for company starts and ends with the girls around him getting a check, and that’s what it is. the girl that eventually comes up to him, sitting next to him, asking if he wants another drink, well.

caleb’s fine, he’s got all he needs and more at home. in his empty apartment. by himself where it’s quiet and not loud, and the lights are not blinding when they hit the wrong way. where he has plenty of room in his bed and extra pillows that fall off during the night. 

he politely declines another drink, lets the woman sit next to him, and watches as his friends turn into less than upstanding, upright citizens.

caleb ignores the stages, eyes glazing over as he sips his drink, warms, and waits until he feels it an appropriate time to leave. he hadn’t really been told they were coming to this sort of club, but beyond the teetering between crass and classy atmosphere and the fact that he had to take two and a half sips of his drink to relax, it’s a nice place. 

but caleb has things to do. he might go back to work, honestly, as there’s paperwork he was meant to look over and he doesn’t want to tackle early tomorrow morning. the dead of night is when he does the most work and thinking.

in his peripherals, bare expanses of skin spin on the stage, round and round. legs open and close, and there’s men at the end of the platform, looking up at their dreams, tossing money, and it makes him almost dizzy. it makes caleb feel strange, actually, to be in such a place he’s found himself in when he was no stranger to such debauchery once upon a time, but time, so much of it, has taken its toll. he’s worn out.

he’s about to leave, actually. caleb’s ready to spew whatever comes out of his mouth as an excuse, when his eyes catch the stage again. one dancer is leaving, money overflowing and a big smile on her face, a wink, and another is making their appearance.

at first, he doesn’t give it a second thought. caleb stands, he finishes his drink, and makes to say goodbye, but he does a double take. just something is what he’d explain it as. there was no real reason for him to turn fully to the stage, but he does, and something catches the light. 

just something catches the light.

caleb doesn’t have great eyesight, but it’s better than most. it’s getting worse as the years go on, and he stares at screens ninety percent of his time, but he’s perceptive. caleb is intuitive. he can read a room, but the music is shaking the booth he had sat in so there’s a signal jam going on as he freezes. 

he’d blame obsession for being the reason he doesn’t want to be here. caleb would also blame everything as to why his first thought was you when his eyes catch on that flash of silver.

and it’s not as if he has not looked for you.

anyone who would suggest such a thing would be out of their mind.

caleb knows…he knows what he’s working with and that’s very little and he also knows he is here, he is not six feet under the ground as you suspect him to be. that’s a noxious mix.

the lights turn pink instead of a soul-eating red and that is you. even shrouded in the heavy bass in a dark, moody room. he just knows. the shape of your back, the curve of your arm. caleb cannot see hair color, he cannot see much because the lights are a deep, dark blue now and so shadows are black and light is scarce, but caleb’s breath catches. he’s standing there stupid, watching as the music slowly picks up.

he sits back down. 

someone claps him on the back. 

caleb stands again, and mumbles an excuse as to why he stood in the first place, as he makes his way back to the bar. bumping shoulders with other men, throwing out excuse me’s and sorry’s until those are gone from his mind and he’s ordering another drink. he knows what he’s done, caleb sleeps next to it every night when he’s restless, and surely you cannot see him from the blinding stage lights but he sees you fully now, not tearing his eyes away as he hands over his card and another drink is slid before him.

first to hit him is the deepest, largest pill of longing. ten fold what he feels every night as he lies in bed and stares at his ceiling or scrolls endlessly through newspaper articles and such. he doesn’t swallow that pill down right, it catches in caleb’s throat as he tries to clear it and run the feeling down with the whiskey in his hand. watching as you begin to move, slowly. sensually. in a way he’s never seen, he’s entranced. absolutely enthralled by the skin he sees and the small outfit.

it’s wrong, he knows you’d be livid if you found out he was watching you like this. sipping on a mixed drink, leering from the bar because that is what he’s doing. under the longing there’s that high of simply you. just you—on stage, twirling so pretty. it’s the cherry on top of the pill and if you knew, you’d surely be a bit embarrassed, but that would soon be overshadowed by rage. a high voice, telling him off, and the next time caleb takes a sip of his drink, he sees that silver again.

right between the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen is a very familiar necklace. 

it hangs off your body, it kisses your cheek when you twirl. it stirs something inside of caleb, parts of him he thought he was already fully aware of, as he takes another sip. 

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ 195.40.40 119.8.8

[pedriache]

I loved the new Jobe fic you wrote it’s very nice! I was wondering if I could request a Jude one….if not you could write it for Jobe I don’t mind. One where you’re in a secret relationship and you end up being in the same place as him and his family. You both just staring at each other. Maybe you work somewhere or something else. But you can’t let anyone know you both know each other or that you’re together. So it’s just to sad and heartbreaking. Later you guys have a call or meet and it’s just breaking you both down but it’s still not a good idea to go public because of the public and their reactions. If you can and want to id love to read something similar. Thanks a lot

Ripples — Jude Bellingham.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having a famous boyfriend wasn’t easy, what wasn’t making it any easier, was how adored he was by fans. Any spark of dating rumors sent them spiraling, and Jude never wanted you to be subjected to that. You’d hit your breaking point when you had to seat him and his family at a table, and all the while, pretend as if you didn’t know him.

Word count: 1k+

Disclaimer/s: Angst with resolve + hopeful ending.

A/N: I hope I did this justice.. idk

Tightening the waist apron around you, you make your way to the front. It was shift change, and you were now taking over for your coworker. She handed you the notepad and pen, wishing you a quick, ‘good luck’ before leaving.

You let out a loud sigh, making your way to the front as there was certainly customers waiting. It was noon after all.

You’re too busy making sure everything was in your apron pockets to notice the family of four at the front. “Hello, I’m—“ You look up, breath hitching in your throat. You stutter out your name, swallowing thickly to calm your nerves, “and I will be your waitress today. Please, follow me.”

Your boyfriend and his parents, along with his younger brother Jobe, did just that. Jude seemed to be the only one who noticed your reaction, his heart thumped in his chest the second he saw your face. You’d stiffened instantly, tension clear in the way you held yourself.

Taking them to a booth, your eyes flicker to Jude’s. You watch him sit down, sending you a quick smile. Nothing significant, he’d do it even if you were just another worker.

You set out the menu’s, forcing a smile onto your face. “Can I start you off with drinks?” You ask, taking out the note pad and pen.

Denise started off with the ordering, and when it came to Jude.. well! You couldn’t even look at him. He was watching you though, trying to hide the upset in his voice as he spoke. Of course you noticed, you’d heard that tone multiple times.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” You nod, hastily making your way to the back.

The first thing you do, is hand the notepad to a co worker. “I’m not feeling well, could you take over my table?” She had nodded, concerned, but didn’t press further.

The rest of your shift went smoothly. You had unsuccessfully avoided the Bellingham’s table completely, somehow always in sight of your boyfriend. He stole glances your way, and the few times you caught them, you immediately looked away. That same thing went back and forth for the whole hour his family had dined there.

The second your shift ended, the grey cloud that had followed you around the whole day, somewhat lifted. You’d finally started to chill out when you got back in your car and drove home.

Jude had texted you multiple times, but you’d ignored them until you got into your apartment. Collapsing on your bed, you shoot him a quick text, asking him to come over.

Within seconds he replied, ‘already on my way’ and that was that. You had to impatiently wait to see your boyfriend in the safety of your apartment. No cameras to see you, no fans, no family.

The few soft knocks on the front door tells you Jude had arrived. A swarm of nerves hit you like bullets as you made your way to the entrance. You unlock it, pulling it open in the process. You’re immediately met with a half-smiling Jude. Half as in it didn’t seem to reach his eyes, which you knew meant you were in for a talk.

“Hey.” You say, opening the door wider to let him in before shutting it behind him.

Jude makes his way toward your couch, plopping down before replying. “We should talk. About today.” He adds the last part as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Yeah.” You nod, sitting down a few feet away from him. “Why would you willingly bring your family to that restaurant? You knew I worked there!” Your voice was raising slightly out of frustration, which you immediately tried to stop. It was no use to get angry about this.

Jude straightens, his eyebrows pulling together. “It wasn’t my choice? My parents wanted to go, so we went. And I tried to give you a heads up, but you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah, well, I was working.” You chuckle humorlessly. “It’s fine, though. I just hate having to hide like this. Do you know how upsetting that was for me? To see you with your family and for them to not even know who I am?”

Jude nods in understanding, his lips pulling into a frown. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this, but the fans—“

“I’m a grown woman, I can handle it! I’d rather be harassed online than have to duck and hide every time we’re in the same vicinity.” Desperation clings onto your voice, your eyes softening as they dart up to meet your boyfriends.

He plays with the couch cushion mindlessly and chews on his bottom lip. “What if.. we compromise?”

This peaked your interest, your eyebrows lifting slightly. “How?”

“You meet my family and a few of my friends, but we keep it private still? And if it ends up getting out… it gets out.” It was a half assed attempt at fixing things. He couldn’t lose you, but he also couldn’t bear to think about how the public would react, which would inevitably lead to you getting hurt. And if he had to choose, Jude would rather lose you than you getting hurt in that way. “Plus, not being able to talk about you to my family is killing me.”

Half way was better than no way, so you sigh. “Fine. I can deal with that.” Scooting closer to your boyfriend, he meets you half way, using his long arms to pull you into his side. The last part of what he said suddenly clicked, a smile making its way onto your face, but you don’t say anything about it.

You two lay like that silently for a few moments, Jude’s hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair. “Y’know… my mum gave me that look at the restaurant when you walked away. I think she may have a hint of whats going on.”

Chuckling into your boyfriend’s chest, you smile. “And here I thought we were always so subtle.”

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. Leave a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts whether it’s specific or all <3

DTS , @halfwayhearted + @spidybaby !

[j2h5b5]

When Derek walked in to find Stiles handcuffed to a kitchen chair, he stopped in his tracks and just stared for a few moments. Stiles stared back, his expression defeated, his eyes showing the kind of exhaustion that's unique to someone who has spent a whole day chasing after two hyperactive six-year-old werewolf boys the night before a full moon. Derek felt a growl rising in his throat and fought it down. "Where are they?" he asked instead, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

Stiles sighed. "I would wager they're holed up in the playroom Mario-Karting their asses off since I grounded them from it for the day." He pointedly jingled the bracelet encircling his wrist, which was attached to one of the slats along the backrest of the chair. "Can you...?"

Derek scanned the kitchen and saw the key resting on the counter next to the microwave. He made quick work of unlocking his husband, who immediately began massaging his wrist as Derek leaned in to plant a somewhat distracted kiss on his lips. "Don't worry, I'll handle this," he said.

"Derek."

This had been a point of contention for them in recent weeks, as their adopted sons' behavior had escalated from minor mischief to potentially dangerous hijinks. It was a good sign, Stiles insisted, an indication that after almost seven months of being in their care, the boys were feeling comfortable enough to misbehave. Derek wholeheartedly disagreed, believing that laying down the law was not only important but necessary, lest they end up with uncontrollable twin monsters.

And that was easy enough for him, as the boys had a natural healthy respect for the Alpha, viewing him with undisguised awe and obeying his instructions at least seven times out of ten. (And the other three times, they regretted it but quick.) For Stiles, the average was one in ten, and usually the obedience was coincidental, not intentional. It was depressing him, and, more, it was putting undue stress on their relationship.

"I was handling it!" Stiles had protested one day two weeks ago, when Derek had walked in to see both boys jumping gleefully on their beautiful black leather sectional, blond curls bouncing chaotically as Stiles repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) grabbed for flailing appendages he could use to pull them back to solid ground.

"It didn't look good from where I was standing!" Derek protested. "You're way too easy on them, Stiles."

And true, all it took was one Alpha growl from Derek to snap them to attention, a command to "Get down NOW" and five minutes facing the wall in separate corners before they were sniffling and full of contrition and apologies. Stiles didn't want to be jealous of his husband's far superior child-wrangling abilities, but he was. And it was becoming quite a sore subject.

So now, at Stiles's one-word objection, Derek took a deep breath and a step back, gesturing for Stiles to lead the way to the playroom. He could just be backup, he figured, maybe flashing Alpha eyes at the adorable brats from behind Stiles’s shoulder. But Stiles stopped him from following by placing a hand on his chest. "They'll never take me seriously if you're always bad cop," he said.

It was important. To Stiles, to the boys. To their family. Derek raised his hands in surrender. "I'm here if you need me," he said, and Stiles leaned in for a real kiss before Derek headed back to the living room to perch on the couch and listen from afar.

And what he heard was truly impressive. Stiles was stern. He was authoritative. He confiscated the contraband video game. He doled out early bedtimes as a consequence. He explained in no uncertain terms why their behavior was unacceptable and what would happen if they didn't start following the rules. He didn't even raise his voice. The three of them emerged ten minutes later, one twin in Stiles's arms and the other clinging to his shirttail, both of them looking sufficiently chastised.

Derek raised a questioning eyebrow at Stiles, who was clearly trying to suppress a smirk. "We're all good now," he reassured, knowing full well that Derek had listened to most of the exchange. "But Oliver has a question for you."

The twin at Stiles's side looked at Derek with wide blue eyes and said, "Why do you have handcuffs in the drawer next to your bed?"

[ahsokatroi]

Tim Drake wouldn’t get help for his experience as JJ. Oh he’d want to, he’d want to address anything that could hinder his ability to do his job as a vigilante-detective. But with the unfortunate lack of therapists who are in-the-know, he would be left with no options. So he would dissociate, bottle it up, and pretend it’s not an issue. He would be scary good at hiding it, so much that it wouldn’t take long for him to convince even Bruce that he’s over it.

Then one day on patrol, he gets hit with fear toxin and his mask isn’t able/available to filter it. His ears are flooded with echoing maniacal laughter. His skin itches and burns, remembering the chemicals. His muscles twitch and spasm, remembering the electrocution. He tries unsuccessfully to keep himself from hyperventilating, and the gasps quickly turn into something else. Soon, his eyes are frozen wide with terror as he chokes on laughing sobs.

From here it could go one of two ways, and both of them hurt.

Option 1:

Jason of all people is the one who finds him or is there with him. His helmet filters out the toxin, so he’s unaffected. He gets Tim out of danger and gets him somewhere safe. Tim just barely manages to pull a syringe out of his belt and give it to Jason. His hands are trembling too much to give himself the antidote. Jason of course knows what it is, and quickly pushes it into his arm. Tim almost breaks the needle with how hard he flinches.

The burning in his skin fades to a mild sting, and his muscles no longer twitch in response to a memory. The echoes of maniacal laughter slowly fade from his ears, and his diaphragm finally stops forcing laughter through his airway. All that remains are the sobs. And they don’t stop.

Jason hasn’t moved, hasn’t let go of his brother’s arm. He doesn’t really know what to do. He doesn’t know what the toxin forced Tim to relive, and the two of them don’t exactly have a wholesome history. He worries that Tim is reliving his attack on Titan’s Tower. Which is why he becomes frozen in shock when Tim grabs at his jacket with shaking hands and places his head on Jason’s chest.

Jason is confused and somewhat worried for his brother’s sanity, but he doesn’t break the hug. He doesn’t know that Tim sees the same thing as Jason when confronted with his worst fear. He doesn’t know that for Tim, fear wears a bleached-white face and blood-red lips and green hair. He doesn’t know that the reason his brother turned to him for comfort is because he understands what it’s like to be broken by the Joker.

All Jason knows is that Tim needed comfort and turned to him for it. So he wraps his arms around his brother and lets him cry into his chest.

Option 2:

No one is there. Tim crawls and staggers away from the gas, dizzy and unable to catch his breath through the suffocating laughter. He leans against a wall in an alley, and slides to the ground. He fumbles with the clasps on his gauntlet, then pulls it off with his teeth when they come undone. He struggles to keep his hand still enough to pull the antidote out of his pocket. He has to brace himself on the wall to keep his hand somewhat steady, but he manages to stick the syringe into his vein and push the plunger down.

He loses track of time while he sits there, curled against an alley wall, sobbing. After what seems like hours, he finally picks his head up from its position on his arms, and he breathes. He focuses on making his lungs even out and pace themselves, hiccuping every now and then.

He sniffs, clearing his runny nose, and pulls himself up on trembling legs. He takes a few more deep breaths, then heads toward his motorcycle.

By the time he reaches the cave, the cold air has eased the redness in his face and his muscles have stopped shaking. He parks his bike and makes his way to the computer to fill out his report, but doesn’t remove his mask. Bruce reads the report, and asks about the fear toxin. Most people wouldn’t be able to hear the concern in his voice. Tim isn’t most people. But he’s fine. The toxin didn’t have any lasting physical side effects, and the mental ones are nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. So he brushes off Bruce’s concern, saying he got away without being touched by the toxin. Bruce gives him a long look, then hm’s and turns back to the computer.

Tim heads for the shower, and rinses off the last evidence that his eyes had ever shed tears that night. He goes to his room afterward, and sits with his computer, determinedly avoiding sleep. Dreading the moment his body forces him into unconsciousness, where the Joker long ago took up residence.

[coffee-and-tea-time]

⁺˚⋆｡°⚝ You choose... me? ⚝°｡⋆˚⁺

thank you thank you thank you thank you Yandere! Hacker x Yandere Lover! Reader

Did you miss us? ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨

We honestly loved writing this geek, we end up adding some mention of yanderes games we play together! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Coffee likes to watch me react to yandere vns oh, don't act like you didn't melt over some of them too shhh. Anyways, hope you all enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy writing it! ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ - Tea

Woah, feels like it's been a long time! (since I last have seen my son lost to this monster, to the man behind the slaughter) ♡ˎˊ˗ tbh I could keep talking about this for hours, I love yanderes (づ> v <)づ♡ * Jack Skellington is still in his Christmas phase? Maybe I could ask him for one as an early gift - coffee

if you want context, you can go here but it's not that necessary we think - the twins

word count: 3.3k

tw: yandere behavior, willing reader, writing in you/yours, this got some internet/yandere references hope y’all catch them (links will be below the story, please do tell us if we missed any) If you don’t know them, take them as recommendations ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (weird to say that when there’s a blood soup reference on here, is like the canon event of everyone who likes yanderes), anxiety attack?, yapper yandere

Huh, honestly the one that struck you the most sure had to be Grier, you still can catch every so often from the corner of your eye how different security cameras move all of the sudden, probably hoping to find one not taped unsuccessfully, talk about stalkerish, cute.

“I will choose… Grier”

The seller gives you a soft sigh, almost of defeat but also relief, tapping his foot as he glances over at the one security camera that was moving now on the far right corner of the shop, moving frantically from side to side as if searching for something. He abruptly lifts up from his seat and groans. 

“Alright, I'll go get the ladder…” 

The seller goes down the wooden ladder after taking the tape off the camera lense and signs for you to come closer to it.

"The cameras here don't have sound but showing you to him should be enough of a clue all by itself"

You freeze as the security camera focuses on you, standing there, you wave awkwardly and the camera starts moving side to side abruptly before freezing,  like the person behind it moved away from it.

"Well, either he fainted or he is coming right away!"

The seller says in a cheerful voice as he goes to cover the camera lense again with a strip of tape. A couple of minutes pass before you hear the screeching stop of a car parking in front of the shop hurriedly, soon followed by a panting man who barges inside like his life depended on it.

“I’m here! I'm here!!” 

He says almost tripping on his own feet as he shoves in your face a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Oh, those are my favorites! Thank you"

"I-I know, don't worry, I made sure to do a quick background check on your medical history so I don't trigger any allergies, I promise I will gather more information tonight! Don't worry"

Well, you can’t really be surprised by his actions since you were warned, though you were by his speed, how did he manage to hurry here driving, buy you flowers and check your medical history in the process? I guess you’d never know, maybe he's a student of Penelope García.

“Well, Grie-”

As the seller attempts to congratulate you both, hand hovering over your shoulder to pat it as a friendly mannerism, Grier is quick to slap it away with a glare that makes you remember a surly cat.

“Is everything ready? I would much rather finish paperwork as quickly as possible” 

Wow, that’s a really sudden change of tone, the distant and somewhat professional posture he took in a matter of seconds makes you think if the Grier that was tripping over his feet, babbling nervously while giving you flowers was just a trick of your imagination, but the theory quickly dies as he places his stare on you again, his expression completely changing, getting all flustered and blushy again… cute. 

“Well, shall we get going? I hope you like my house but of course you can redecorate it- we can redecorate it oh maybe we should go first to your house to get an example? I can mimic your space so you feel comfier although if that makes you uncomfortable of course we don't need to I just would love to know more about you so that I don't messed up, well, not only things I mean get to everything about you, but please don't feel pressur-” 

“Grier, we got the memo, continue yapping out of the store. And for you Dear, I hope you find your happy ending with that parrot you bought, no refunds or returns are allowed."

The seller, who looks like he's about to get a migraine if he keeps hearing Grier, quickly kicks him out and says his farewells to you. As you exit the store behind Grier, he is quick to show you the way to his car.

"Thanks.. uh, do you mind if we go to my place real quick?"

Well, it's pretty obvious he will take you to his house and you can't really back up now so, you only need to gather some thi- oh, he's already panicking.

"Your place? Going to mine doesn't sound appealing? I-I can change it! What's the thing you would totally love that my house had? It's not like I don't want to see your house I honestly would love to but you do plan to come to mine after, right? Maybe you'd rather be in your place? But then we'd be so far away… or course I don't want to bother you I swear I can do and buy whatever will suit you best to be comfortabl-" 

"We're gonna go grab some of my clothes! I need my things, then we can go to your house"

The seller wasn't lying when he said Grier is a rambler type of person, but you can't really be annoyed by it, his voice is honestly so damn good, and the way it sounded when he went all serious mode talking to the seller was just… wait, no, no time for simping right now, you gotta think what do you need to gather from your house.

"Oh yes of course of course sorry I got worried for a momento although it would've nice to go shopping together if you forgot something of course we can also shop online if you don't really like crowded places oh, I… god"

As he was talking, you honestly were more focused on how pretty his watery eyes are, just hearing bla bla bla, you can't help but start caressing his hair, it seems like it took him by surprise but certainly not in a bad way, leaning into your touch as you run your fingers through his messy, wavy but soft hair, you must admit that you thought it was tangled at first but that isn't the case.

 Ah, right, your things.

"Well, shall we get going?"

You watch him nod, seeming incredibly out of words, as he red faced opens the door for you before going to his seat and searching for something in his phone before he starts driving. Uh, then you have full control over the music? He seems like in his own world and you hardly doubt he minds you changing the music when he still can't even cool down his blush… you must tease him from time to time for funsies, noted. 

Part of you wanted to put that one song from ayesha erotica but maybe it was a little weird, so you switch to the safe choice: do nothing. You switch to your phone to make a little note for yourself about important things you need.

Oh, right

You forgot to tell him your address because you were too focused on other things, well… just as you remembered he was already parking in front of your apartment anyways- 

Grier makes his way out of the car once the engine is off, walking around the car to open the door for you, helping you out with his hand, then walking alongside you as you make your way up to your floor and through the door of your apartment. 

"Here, make yourself at home, I’ll be picking  my clothes”

Although it doesn’t seem very smart to let someone like him snoop around, though you can’t help but also be curious about what he will do and, well, it’s not like he can do much since it's just your house… right?

Anyways, you left him for a moment to go pack clothes, catching him nervously walking around from time to time, but he seems really the quiet type, surely more on the soft yandere side, his droopy innocent eyes made him look the part.  damn wrong Dear, you seems like a yandere amateur, try again.

"Ugh, I still have so much to pack"

You murmured, already getting tired of the repetitive grap-and-pack motion, impatient to get to talk to your little yapper and get to know him better. Speaking of the devil, you feel his presence behind you, his shadow betraying his location as it engulfs you, then feeling a soft tap on your shoulder, so soft in fact it seemed as if your shoulder was made of needles.  

"You don't have to worry about your computer and stuff. I already have them backed up, t-to save you time! Since you seemed stressed and said I could snoop around I thought about helping a bit and backing up your devices… same with all your accounts- just to help of course"

Well, now you know what he was up to while you were busy.

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE

"...did you check my browser history?"

You blurt out the question as you run through the chance of any incriminating, possibly cringy, piece of information in your phone that might require some explanation… God forbid if he found your tumblr-

"...No"

He did.

"I have a tiny question though, if you don't mind of course- the last thing I want to do is bother you in any way"

He totally did.

"....depends, what do you want to ask, Dear?"

Okay, you got this, you got a yandere for something. Whatever he asks you, if it turns out awkward, there's little that can't be solved by some pampering when it's related to yanderes,  how he giggled when you called him Dear confirming this notion. You got this.

"I just was, you know, curious about what games you played, I wasn't prying! But, you know, it's good to know your interest to get to know you better and maybe play together while cuddling on the couch and have some hot cocoa with little marshmallows as we wrap ourselves in a big blanket…. Anyways, the point it's… what's exactly your type?"

Okay, you don't got this. 

"Huh, how is one thing related to another?"

It's better to buy a little time while you think of a correct answer for that. Would it be too cheesy to say something like 'you'? Maybe you really should have bought that manual for 'how to take care of your yandere' when they offered it to you on the website. 

"Well, wandering around a bit I found you seem to like playing something called 'dating sim'? According to what I saw it's like flirting and romance virtual characters although the stories really differ from one to another which makes it really confusing to figure out what's your taste to be honest"

Alright, you have to reply quickly to give him some peace, maybe he found one that really didn't resemble him and got nervous? It doesn't sound wise to let a yandere get insecure.

"My type is…"

You gently place your hand on his chin to make him look directly into your eyes.

“Let 's see… My type has gorgeous, green, droopy eyes, a bedhead that, I must say, is pretty damn soft, the kinda guy that rambles a lot and seems to have this nervous habit of straightening his clothes and, especially, my type is a certain guy that can't take his eyes off of me” 

You watch as a red tint paints his cheeks, a shivering smile appears on his face as he takes a step closer to you nuzzling himself onto your hand like a cat asking for attention.

"Really? Can you promise that? Will you willingly say that into a microphone? Just for the record, do you really really see me as your ideal?"

"Of course, of course, who wouldn't find an adorable hacker this endearing?'

"Then... you got a thing for hackers? So, your favorite was that seven zero seven?"

Did you really hear that right?

…

You can’t help but feel your past haunting your back. 

"It's a really good character, although, I find kinda sad that seven has this hint at him being aware of every reset"

Does this count as dodging the question? Maybe.

"Following that logic, I'm aware of every breath you take so does that means I can get more of your attention? Or maybe I'm being too greedy though you seem to have spent a lot of your time romancing them, obviously I'm not judging you but that means that it would be okay also for me to check on you at every hour, even if it's 2 am? Just to make sure you don't need anything, of course! That you're well cared for… or do I require something else to be worthy of that? Please tell me, is it my personality? I don't really think so since, well, I see you gush over intense personalities such as that… Damon? Deimon? The game isn't even finished but you seem to like everything about him although he doesn't really show you about himself. That means that what makes up your favorability is... The attention over you?"

Oh god, he found itchi.io, better start praying he didn't see anything weird.

"Well, they are just… games I played because I was bored, you shouldn't look too much into those”

"But you play more than one or two which means that you really enjoyed playing them and searching for more of that kind but I can't help but be confused and intrigued about what is that something, you even liked one where the characters shared the same body as a human and… a fae? I didn't really understand but they seem really different, which makes it very hard to find a pattern, but that isn't the only one you played like that, you also have one that switches between a shy boy and a flirty one, do you like the contrast? What exactly is that thing that makes you fawn over them? Maybe it would be good if I got two different aesthetics? I can't hide my name like that ‘redacted’ guy that looks mysterious…but I can change looks out of the blue and leave little clues of something? But, about what? I really don't have that much to tell and my stalking it's pretty much obvious, I also don't have superpowers to act like the hero one."

"Honey, it's okay, you don't need to do such a thing, as I said, I like you, those are just games I play in my free time to not get bored"

"Maybe it will be better if I go directly to straightforward characters? That 'Friend' was really honest most of the time, that… fan? Monster? Also was honest, why is there so much variety? But there also was people that were better at hiding it like that mushroom boy or that sol… it's difficult to stabilize a pattern if they keep variating so much, maybe I should put my focus on the ones you know the longer, I had to buy a seifuku and chase you with a chainsaw? No, there's the possibility I could injure you and I absolutely can't risk that, maybe I can buy a mannequin and put a synthetic deer head and say it my brother"

Okay, just how many did he see? Why does he need a pattern in the first place? You literally choose him, but well, he seems to want it to get more of your attention… Why don't give him so? Probably will help him to calm down, you aren't planning to do a crossover of Perfect Love with this guy.

"Dear, look directly at me for a second, did you hear what I was telling you? Listen to me, those are games, you are the one here with me, don't you think that you are already winning by far with that thing alone?"

You pinch his cheeks to get him to stop rambling about favorites, finally, and his eyes seem focused on you once again.

"Well, that's right, I'm the one feeling your touch, even if is a romance game, I'm the one closer to you although I'm not a big fan of you giggling and choosing flirty things but that hobby also means staying more at home where I can stick around more, if I think it carefully, it's something safe overall”

As you let go of his cheeks, he is quick to hold your hand in order to forbid you to move it away, leaning his cheek into your palm again as he talks.

"Yeh, there's a lot of people with the same taste in stories that me, so you can say they are pretty popular, don't look into it so much, there's no need to bother your mind with such a thing, these are just things I enjoy reading"

"It's true that they are just stories, you enjoy reading about lovesick so much? That's why you use tumblr? It makes sense since the blogs you follows also have the same theme and there's even one you seems to check frequent that's seems to have everything about yanderes… that's like you don't enjoy them in particular but the yandere part, don't you? That… sounds wonderful like it was probably obvious since you bought me but if you keep so much of your time looking for more of them that means you will just love my little antics too? please please say yes please please please"

Fuck, he did enter to your tumblr and even checks your followings, thanks god he end up with a good train of thought at the end.

"Yes, you're the one here, you shouldn't worry about the little hobbies I have, I just enjoy the reading, It's called dark romance and every character is different because one thing or another, you gonna get a headache if you think about it too much"

And please don't search more. Sadly, you can say that, he will definitely search more if you said it like that.

"Well, that makes sense, after all, you won't go into the yandere shop if you don't know anything about the subject, and there's a lot of options and… I win, because you chose me to let me be with you”

Well, your danger Kitty seems a lot more calm by now, you should note that if he starts rambling non-stop, focusing your stare at him totally works.

Well, you better start going before he start snooping on tumblr or worse: find c.ai

"Love, you know something? I'm getting sleepy, why don't we finish packing another day? I'm curious to see how it's your place"

"O-oh yes yes of course! I hope you find my house of your likeness but of course you can change whatever you don't like or if the neighborhood is not of your likeness we can also change that just differents methods I'd it the locations or the neighbors perse but I can totally take care of it you said you were sleepy, don't you? I have a spare room but if you are comfortable with it my bed is pretty comfy of course the spare room also has a comfy bed but…"

He keep yapping, you can't really help but giggled as he goes on with excuses on why you two should totally nap together for a better sleep as you two make your way out with some of your things to put them in his car, and as you get comfortable on your seat and he drives…. The unthinkable happens.

"Yes, we can eat that after napping together dear"

"Awesome! I love to spend more time with you as much as possible, we can watch something as he eat, oh right, we can totally watch that anime you saw"

Just like your breath, the cars stop for a moment at the red light.

"...which anime?"

He smiles to you, like excited to show off he knows a cool fact and pull his phone to research something quickly, and show you a photo of that one anime.

"You did really liked tha-"

"We don't talk about that one"

You feel your past decisions haunting your back once again.

That one anime for me totally will be Diabolik Lovers ngl- don’t proud of myself on that (if curious, my fav Sakamaki was Kanato and fav Mukami was Azusa), although I saw weirder, I hope Grier doesn’t bring those up, I rather them buried  ~ coffee

My questionable past anime has to be Brother’s conflict…WAIT THAT SOUNDS SO WRONG- I didn’t like the brothers aspect, not one bit! I sort of started watching thinking the thing was going to be about brothers being into the same girl and competing against each other, I didn’t think they’d be competing for their FUCKING STEP-SISTER. so yeah… the ending and opening were sick though…Coffee still teases me by playing them from time to time. ~ Tea (I totally recommend playing those out of the blue around a person who watched that anime, it's always fun ~ coffee)

All the links to the things Grier mentions in his ramblings:

Penelope Garcia is the hacker of criminal minds.

Binary Star Hero

A DOUBLE SIDED MIRROR

MONSTER X MEDIATOR

The Kid at the Back

Mystic Messenger (phone app)

*coff coff*  I must say, the Tumblr blog Grier makes reference of, is totally talking about maleyanderecafe, if you like yanderes, you had to know them, they got everything about yanderes, I love them (so yeh, the mention is cuz I wanted to fangirl a little)  ~ Coffee

See Thru: Need a Friend?

Inclement Idée Fixe

Mushroom Oasis

Broken Colors

Duality

14 Days With You

Perfect Love

Blood Soup

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest ⚘