#His loser boy energy has captivated me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzdarlings · 7 months

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bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

Sure, you are a little insufferable.

But Lee Minho is worse.

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally. Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night.

You were content until this fucker came along. Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals. Ugh. You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you. The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women. You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.

He arrives with his usual entourage. A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle. He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches. He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance. His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say. “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer. He laughs sarcastically.

“Not worth the mileage,” he says. He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim. “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.” He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him.

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot. Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too. It was inevitable. You were hostile when first meeting. You challenged him to a few too many personal races. You were a sore loser and even worse winner. What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry.

You won the last couple races. You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again.

“Sure,” you say. “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.”

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back.

You decide to keep your distance tonight. If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm. So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings.

But, ugh.

He is right there.

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air. When you are looking at him, he captivates you. When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again. You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters.

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy. Not a single race has satisfied you. You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough. It is never enough. You already know how good you are. You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded.

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho. The only victory that matters is that one.

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him. He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming. He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away.

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face. When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation. He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car. He shakes his head as you stomp up to him.

“One race,” you say.

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.” He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave.

“Wait,” you say.

You heart is racing. Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night. Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs. Stupid hottie. You will have him and his attention. You will get the better of him, one way or another. It was all leading to this.

“One race,” you say. “A bet worth the mileage.”

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply.

Finally, he closes the car door. He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth.

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you. The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body.

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking. Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize.

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue. It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing. You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way. But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings.

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut. No, lower. Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess. Heat that is curious about the look in his eye.

Then you shake your head. You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off. You were in control and now you are flustered.

“Not me,” you snap.

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up. He meets your gaze eventually. Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you.

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality. “I bet my car.”

He blinks at you. Long, slow blinks like a cat. It takes him a second to find a sentence.

“Your car,” he says. He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy. “And what do you want if you win?”

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say. The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth. You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy. You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered. “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides.

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone. It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead. You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other. It is intense and all-consuming.

You hold out a hand. He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says. “Since it’s the truth. You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock. You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind. Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual. He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car.

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention.

The heat rushes back in a hurry. You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs.

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words. You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other. You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed. Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight. You bet your car. What were you thinking?

You weren’t. And it was all his fault.

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him. You smack the steering wheel with frustration.

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline. Thoughts like that are not like you. And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want. Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want. He is always the highlight of your night.

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser.

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car.

He is not gloating because he is not the type. He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you. He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies.

“You got in my head on purpose.”

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist.

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt. “I bet myself.”

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again. Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat.

“You,” he finally says. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?”

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy. It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate.

You cross your arms stubbornly. You look away. You even stomp your foot.

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone. “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer. You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch. Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy. Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite. It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his. You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes.

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says. He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil. “I don’t have to make bets. I make love to people because they want it. Sorry.” He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat. “You can keep your car. I don’t want or need it. Good night.”

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it. He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely.

“Now, now,” he says.

“I’m a big girl,” you snap. “I don’t need you protecting my honour. I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.”

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes. He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says.

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels.

“I heard you,” you say.

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time. You take a step back.

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step. Step by step across the tarmac. The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours.

You find it difficult to catch your breath. Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady. He is intoxicating.

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek. He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer. You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little.

“So,” he says. “If you win, we fuck. And if I win, we make love. Is that correct?”

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say. You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation.

It seemingly works. His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Yes, there—” He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder. He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll race.”

Your heart is already revving like an engine. You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly. You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise. It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head. You hold your breath.

“You have to pass my test first,” he says.

“Excuse me!” Your own incredulity resounds. You smack his chest but he does not move.

“It’s just two questions,” he says. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

He is tormenting you. You hate him. You hope he never stops.

“Fine,” you snap. His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation.

“Good,” he says, then stands back.

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness. At least you can catch your breath in the space between you.

Then he says, “Get on your knees.”

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race. There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle. Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road.

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response. You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you.

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth. You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his. His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy. Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows.

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips. Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath.

“Well?” he says.

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.”

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin. “That’s one out of two. How about this one?”

He drops to his knees. You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night. There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets.

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable. Your breath stutters before he even moves. He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch. He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste. Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take.

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second. He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more. Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets.

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers. He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you. You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye.

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.

The suggestion makes you throb. You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright. “Now we can race.”

It is a perfect draw.

You are both distracted. When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind.

Doors slam. You meet in the space between your vehicles.

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative.

He is shrugging out of his jacket. It his the ground. He does not break his stride, already going for his belt. Your knees nearly buckle again.

“Fine,” he replies. “Then get over here. I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.”

Fucking you is exactly what he does. It is not making love. He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra. Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine. You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you.

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood. He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him.

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline. It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you. You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own. He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line.

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss. It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off. He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure. He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.”

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says. “You sounded so good getting fucked. I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that.

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand. He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?”

#lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x you #lee know x you #lee minho x you #valentinesdaystories

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akamarulover · 3 years

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Winter 2021 anime

It has been a while since I wrote one of these reviews! But this season was SO good I wanted to talk about these series. There was so much good stuff that I ended up dropping some shows I want to revisit later. So here’s all the anime I completed in the 2021 Winter season.

NEW SERIES

Sk8 the Infinity

My favorite anime of the season. One of my favorites in a while. The staff working on it is just stellar (Director: Free!, Banana Fish) (Scriptwriter: Code Geass) (OST: Initial D) and produced by Studio Bones (MP100, FMA) no less! I cannot stress enough how good the OST is.

It’s about Skateboarding! Specifically, secret underground, no rules brawls in the “S” arena. Reki (innovative, artistic, engineer, talented, cheerful, sweet, best boy supreme) is a skater through every cell in his body. He meets Langa (cute, Canadian, snowboarder, angel), who recently moved to Japan after losing his father. Reki quickly pulls Langa into his world of skating and the two face the trials and tribulations of the S arena, and the colorful cast that inhabit it.

The energy of the show is captivating and funny and a bit nostalgic. The skating tricks (and fails) are cool, and funny, and ridiculous, and an absolute blast to watch. The characters are charming and well rounded, and the story resonated with me in a very personal, motivating way. I can’t recommend this enough!

Wonder Egg Priority

CONTENT WARNINGS (sexual assault, abuse, self harm, suicide. If you need to know about certain warnings please make sure to look them up before starting)

Don’t let the pretty colors and cute girls fool you! This is a psychological horror magical girl series! With a similar look and production quality to any Kyoani series. After the suicide of her best friend, Nagase receives the ability to traverse dreams in the hopes of saving her friend. In those dreams, she and the girls she helps must confront their greatest fears and traumas. The enemies she and other “egg” owners face are grounded in reality, but twisted into grotesque forms.

The series absolutely does not shy away from heavy topics. The girls themselves represent a variety of personal internal struggles as well. Including a trans girl and wlw. Very good but very heavy anime.

Horimiya

Horimiya is simply romance done well. The characters are charming and likeable and funny. The cast is colorful and well designed with good dynamics. The main couple is established very early on, so there’s not a lot of pre-relationship drama antics. Rather, Horimiya explores the growing relationship between Hori and Miyamura. There are plenty of side characters though, that do go through the pre-relationship fumbles and bumbling if that is your jam. The side characters are also great and often become the focus of an episode.

Kemono Jihen

Cryptid kids solving mysteries! The character designs are amazingly well done. The color palette of the series is a visual joy to look at. Their powers are really cool and interesting. And the personalities hold together the show well.

Cells at Work: Black

It’s Cells at Work, but edgy! All the same fun shenanigans and random facts and character designs of cells at work, except this time the body is actively dying nearly every episode! These cells have to save their host body from fun things like Carbon Monoxide poisoning, ulcers, and erectile dysfunction, oh my!

Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation

I tend to be a bit wary of the highly oversaturated isekai genre by now. But this one actually caught my interest visually and with its characters. IMO it presents those tired tropes in a thoughtful way. It does explore a lot of the more unpleasant aspects of isekai genre (CONTENT WARNINGS). But the way it’s presented still feels organic and usually interesting. Also the main voice actor, Sugita Tomokazu, carries the show.

Rudeus was a very much worthless loser in his past life. So once he is reborn, literally as an infant, he decides to start from scratch and work hard at bettering himself. He still has much growing to do, however, and he does make bad decisions often. But he learns to be reliable when it counts, and hopefully will grow past his problematic shortcomings in time.

Skate Leading Stars

Aka the other worse skating anime this season. It did have a strong opening episode, which is the main reason I kept with the series as long as I did. The main 3 characters have a strong and interesting dynamic. Their backstories are interesting and the drama and dynamics between them all was compelling. Unfortunately, the rest of the cast was not so much.

SEQUELS

Attack on Titan: The Final Season

A bit of a misnomer, since it’s not finishing quite yet with its split cour. I’ve been a fan of the series from the start, and I really enjoy where it has headed. Despite being in a new studio, I think they still adapted the story well, which is what matters most. I got used to the updated character designs pretty quickly too. Eren you’re one crazy bitch I love it. Can’t wait for the actual end.

Doctor Stone: Stone Wars

I liked season 2 even more than I did the first! Senku has really grown on me a lot as a character. Even more characters were introduced. Established characters grew their relationships and developed. The inventions were fun (and factual). I enjoyed this season a whole lot! I can’t wait for more.

Cells At Work

The original, also airing! The season ended up being pretty short, only 8 episodes, which was disappointing. I didn’t feel a lot of the same charm that season 1 had either. It was still good, and I would watch another season absolutely. But I was left wanting a bit more.

True Cooking Master Boy

Not much to say other than the same fun cooking buffoonery. If you enjoy food wars, or want to watch food wars but without the fanservice, this is it.

CONTINUING SERIES (from last season)

The anime had a strong opening arc that I really enjoyed. However a lot of this season was kind of a dud for me. Everything up through where the demon Mahito was included, was great. Nothing special, just typical shounen with cool powers and a high budget anime. But I enjoyed it.

Except, not really. I did not enjoy the school battles arc. I do not like any of the second years, or third years, or other schools. I only care about what the main 3, plus Gojo and Nanami and Sukuna were up to. I think the series is strongest when it is not at the school. The high school part of it really drags it down.

The mission they went on right after in the final episodes was fantastic. It really reminded me where the series shines. Which is in its demon investigations.

Black Clover

This is another hit or miss series. When it’s bad, I gotta skip episodes. I don’t care for filler and for a good handful of the cast. But when it does decide to step up, its great! The fights are engaging and visually stunning. The powers are interesting when they’re utilized well. The demon form in Asta is always such an interesting part of the story. The magic visuals overall are great.

Osomatsu San 3rd Season

Same show its always been. You should know by now if you like it or not. Some of my favorite gags and episodes ended up being in this season.

Pokemon Journeys

I was falling a bit behind, but I did completely catch up recently because Gou has been snagging some pretty sweet catches. I love the Grookey he straight up stole from Team Rocket. And he got a hella sweet legendary. What a good kid! He’s so cute and I’m so proud of him! Also Ash just evolved his Sirfetch’d which is one of my favss. I hope Leon comes back soon.

DROPPED

The Promised Neverland season 2

Once I heard from manga readers it totally derailed itself, I dropped out. I plan on picking up the manga. I didn’t want to be spoiled by a lackluster adaptation.

Otherside Picnic

I want to revisit this one. I kinda replaced it with Wonder Egg Priority, which was like a similar but better version of the story.

Yashahime

Not gonna lie, I totally forgot about it. Nothing major made me drop it. I just didn’t have enough interest to remember it lmao.

Re-Zero season 2

The haremy crap got too much for me. All the appeal of the first season is totally gone. The story wasn’t interesting and the new characters were bad.

That Time I got Reincarnated as a Slime season 2

I never actually picked up season 2 to begin with. I finished season 1 and it was good enough. But i wasn’t interested enough to continue the story.

And that wraps it up. Winter season was packed, and there was a lot of good stuff to watch. Spring will have a hard time measuring up, but I don’t expect it to. I dropped or skipped out on some series that in a less hype season, I probably would have watched. Not a bad problem to have haha.

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excitedlysuffering · 4 years

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How would the members of Akatsuki be with a fem s / o who is a medical ninja?

Akatsuki With A Med Nin S/O

Since there’s so many of them, I’m making them a little shorter!

Pein~

He’ll be impressed with your skills, although he won’t typically need your help. If you don’t mind he’d like to watch you work sometimes and it’s kind of nice actually. Bonding over blood and guts we love it🥰

He’s also quite relieved because most of the Akatsuki are reckless and get injured all the time. Like four times a week you have at least one of them in your office reckless. Genuinely believes everything would fall apart without you.

Konan~

She believes you’re the true Angel from the first time she watches you heal someone. You were so at ease and in your element she finds you absolutely captivating.

Definitely yells at the boys for not being careful because, yes you’re strong and can handle a lot, but they’re getting injured all the time and it’s draining you. She’ll take care of you without fail everytime you reach, or exceed, your limit.

Itachi~

It’s kind of bittersweet to him. You have such talent with medical jutsu that you could probably cure him, but he can’t let you. He can’t be at full power if he wants Sasuke to kill him. He will let you help make him comfortable though. Like if he’s feeling particularly bad or with his poor eyesight.

Will try to put a limit on what’s worthy of your skills. If it’s not serious, you shouldn’t be wasting your energy on it (mainly because the others are idiots) and he’ll try to turn lesser injuries away. You might be the only med nin, but you’re not the only one in the base who can do medical work.

Kisame~

Finds you cooler than regular ninjas, because yeah you can kick ass and all that but you can also heal injuries that are typically death sentences. What’s not to love?? Brags about you all the time it’s not even funny. (At least to Itachi who has to listen to the highlights of every surgery you’ve ever performed)

Loves to hear you talk about it! He wants to learn as much as he can because he loves how excited you are and plus he’s a swordsman there’s a lot of benefits in knowing techniques that are virtually unhealable (that’s a word now don’t @ me). Overall totally enamored by everything you do.

Kakuzu~

FINALLY. That’s his reaction. He’s tired of having to deal with the idiots and their injuries. (ahem: Hidan) (Because Sasori is only willing to help Deidara and he still throws a fit about it) will definitely assist you though if you need it and is always open to sharing and learning tips/techniques.

When you fight together you probably have competitions to see who can kill the most people with a specific type of injury. (You and Kakuzu once killed 57 people by severing one specific artery in every person)

Hidan~

He sees you as his personal nurse and thinks that he gets priority over everyone else because you love him. (“Step aside, loser, I got stabbed!” “B-but your immortal! I’m bleeding out!” “Get yourself a doctor for a girlfriend then!”) Good luck with this one🙂

He’s alsways in your office/workspace just hanging out whether he’s hurt or not. Likes to see you in your space, doing your thing. Is present at every surgery he can possibly be at because he claims you look sexy covered in blood. He’ll try not to interrupt you but he can’t help but steal one six kisses while you look like that.

Sasori~

Very fascinated by your work. He’ll want to learn from you, as well as teach you things about treating poisons. He probably tests his new poisons out on random people so he can see if it’s easy for you to treat or not, so he can make them more dangerous. You also help him turn live victims into his puppets! So romantic what a keeper🥰

He’ll let you deal with Deidara’s injuries while he watches over your technique, but he’ll grumble if you treat the others especially Hidan. Thinks it’s a waste of your energy and that you’re above such things. He likes it when you don’t use your chakra so he can work with you on regular medical skills and he might even use chakra strings to guide you.

Deidara~

Is so curious about your work like when you’re healing someone it’s never quiet for more than a minute because he has so. Many. Questions. It’s kind of endearing though, because besides art, he’s not this fascinated by anything else. He likes it when you heal him because unlike Sasori, you’re careful to make it as painless as possible.

Tries to stop you from healing Itachi as much as possible. Like if he sees him with an injury he’ll whisk you away on a date or something because he’s that petty. You probably healed his arms and he does about everything he can for you because he feels so indebted to you like he’s so in love with you it’s not even funny🥰

#akatsuki #itachi x reader #kisame x reader #pein x reader #konan x reader #sasori x reader #deidara x reader #hidan x reader #kakuzu x reader #requested

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our-chaotic-beginnings · 4 years

Note

Can I request bakusquad on a first date?

The long awaited request has been filled! Hopefully tungle.hell doesn’t kill be with word count caps. I hope you enjoy!

Mina Ashido

She’d take you out on a first date to the mall! A lighthearted day of shopping (or window shopping if you’d prefer) and hanging out is her idea of a great first date!

Your first stop would be to the local café to grab some much needed caffeine to keep your energy up throughout the day. She always orders drinks with caramel and chocolate to keep her sweet tooth happy, and she’ll gladly offer to pay for yours if you’d want.

Your next stop is to your favorite store! You’ll both have a day at trying on outfits and finding the best styles for each other. She loves thrifting as well so you may find yourself bouncing from shop to shop, hand holding her tightly to make sure you keep up.

Whenever you feel your bellies rumbling, you make a beeline for the food court. If you surprise her by tugging her to your favorite fast food station, she’ll let out a laugh lighter than air and give you a small peck on the cheek. She’s happy that you’re able to keep up with her energy.

After you’ve eaten to your heart’s delight, you’re off to the arcade! Mina bets that you can’t beat her at Dance Dance Revolution, and you’re not one to say no to a challenge. You spend hours dancing at this machine, drawing a crowd around as you do your best to gain the upper hand. When you manage to get a perfect score on a song, she rushes over to you to give you a high five and the biggest hug she can muster.

“That was awesome! You’ve gotta show me how you got so awesome at this game! I’ve got Just Dance in my room, wanna see if you can beat me there?”

Katsuki Bakugou

As loud and brash as he is, Katsuki isn’t the one to instigate your first date. All of BakuSquad could see how he wasn’t as harsh with you, so they decided to set him up for a first date with you. So when he found himself at the meeting spot just outside an amusement park with you frantically checking your phone and looking around for someone, he knew that you’d both been set up by your friends.

He marched up to you and let out a groan. When you had noticed him, you came to the understanding that his friends were meddling with you. However, you shouldn’t let these free tickets with all day passes go to waste, right? With hands in respective pockets, you entered the park side by side.

While you both were fairly uncomfortable and awkward in the first hour of hanging around the park, once you two got onto a ride, you both warmed up to each other. You were riding one of the faster coasters, one that slowly pulled you atop a hill onto to launch you downward and through loop-de-loops.

While you were screaming your head off on the drop, Katsuki was giving a full-hearted laugh that ended with a smirk. A smirk that quickly morphed into a small ‘o’ of surprise when you grabbed his hand. His face flushed as he glanced between your hand gripping his for dear life and how your eyes were squeezed shut. The shock from your boldness faded from him, face returning to his normal hue (albeit dusted with a soft pink blush), and he squeezed your hand back.

Minutes later, the two of you were exiting the ride, and he escorted you, hands still together, over to a shaded table for you to calm down after the ride. Realization hit you that you were holding hands and you tried to pull away, but Katsuki just smirked and squeezed your hand tighter.

“Trying to run away from me now? Tch, you could’ve told me you don’t like the faster rides, dumbass. Let’s go find something more your speed. I can’t be the loser that lets his date feel uncomfortable.”

Kyouka Jirou

As the daughter of two music lovers, her idea for a first date is to a concert. She branched out to a genre that wasn’t her style, more of yours actually, so she knew you’d love it. With a few of her mom’s connections, Kyouka managed to score a couple of front row seats for the two of you.

During the breaks of the opening acts, she makes her best attempts at small talk. When the awkwardness washes over, you chuckle and give her hand a squeeze. You know she’s out of her comfort zone, so you try to ease her nerves by talking about what you liked about the music. You’ve struck a chord with her then, and so when you both aren’t vibing with the music you both chat about how good the guitarist’s riffs were or how you could see how much fun the lead singer was having as she flitted from one end of the stage to the other.

Your attention’s drawn to the stage when the main act appears, Kyouka’s fingers interlacing with yours as she anticipated the first strum of the base for their opening song.

Melodies and choruses passed, and it felt like time had stopped until the band was announcing their last song of the night. However, Kyouka could barely focus on the stage; her eyes were glued to you, taking in your overflowing enjoyment. With every song, you were energetically performing in your seat; you were far more captivating than the girl adjusting the mic on the jumbo screen.

Contrasting to the upbeat, fast paced songs that they had started their set with, a soft tune floated through the venue. The guitarist had exchanged his normal electric guitar for an acoustic guitar. Cliché and mushy words accompanied the gentle music, and Kyouka could feel her heart pound. The band was ending the concert with a love song, a preview of their new album if she remembered the earlier announcement correctly. The singer’s voice gradually built up from a whisper to a resounding belting that echoed through the silent crowd. A split second of silence followed as the singer took another breath; you followed suit to prepare for the next verse, unaware of what Kyouka planned. You turned to check how she was feeling about the song only to find her lips on yours.

“I know that this band was the headliner tonight, but you were the real star of this show. Wanna listen to all their albums on the way back tonight?”

Denki Kaminari

Denki’s idea of an ideal date is just inviting you to hang out with his friends. Some may see it as awkward, but he sees it as the best way to introduce you and to get to know you in a group setting. Today, he dragged you along to his squad’s gaming day, with today being a MarioKart tournament.

Before you even said a word, his friends (with the exclusion of the feistiest member of their crew) swarmed you. They asked who you were, if you had a quirk, and how you’d managed to agree to date their goofiest friend. You laughed and answered their questions with ease, pulling the flustered blonde closer to your side as you joked about accidentally getting shocked by him during your first meeting with him.

Any awkwardness subsided once a controller was in your hand. The unofficial leader of their group pushed a black controller to you, almost a challenge to see if you were good enough for Denki. Everyone was competing in this grand prix solely made up of Rainbow Road at the highest level of difficulty. You agreed wholeheartedly and set out customizing your bike (as you preferred them to the carts) to create the ultimate racer.

The first of the four rounds started off with a blast, with you managing to blow out as you got used to the controls. You ended up way back in 6th place, with only Hanta falling behind you at 8th with NPCs littering the places unoccupied by the other players. The next two rounds fared better with you placing 3rd in the second round and 2nd in the third round. With the final round seconds away, you were shocked to find that your points were tied with the hotheaded Katsuki. This last round would determine it all.

Denki massaged your shoulders during the brief break before the final round (as he was eliminated in the second round with an unlucky last place), whispering encouraging words to hype you up. He was worried about Katsuki’s verbal beating he’d give if he didn’t win; the blonde had been at the receiving end of many of those. Those worries all melted away as he saw the way you were weaving through the NPCs, using them to shield yourself from the explosive boy’s neverending supply of shells. You were neck and neck; in first and second place for the majority of the round. Tensions were high, the room making the group’s chants of your name echo into your very soul. You didn’t even realize you had managed to win; as soon as you crossed the finish line, Denki had you pulled into your lap and was pressing his lips lightly to your cheek.

“You did it! You beat our reigning champ! You’re definitely a keeper if you can even beat Mr. Hot Head himself! You want to do this again sometime, maybe one on one?”

Eijirou Kirishima

As health conscious and ‘manly’ as he is, Eijirou offered a simple walk in the park as your first date together. He would’ve offered to work out together, but some of his other friends (namely Mina and Denki) vetoed that. He chose a weekend that was expected to have a sunny forecast and chose a park that was more than just grass and pathways.

You both met up by the vending machines, him buying you your drink of choice and grabbing himself a bottle of water. Eijirou kept the conversation light, discussing the recent class you both had about team tactics. He had been absolutely enthralled watching how you effortlessly pulled off a combination move with Momo and Tsu. His hand casually reached for yours, grinning wide to show off his pearly teeth as your cheeks bloomed with a pale pink.

Soon you came upon a mostly deserted play set with three sets of swings. You both came to an agreement to swing in the shaded area as a short reprieve from the sun. The conversation shifted from tactics to inspirations as you recounted your first experience with a pro hero: a pro hero from your hometown had taught a general safety course and ended up rescuing an eight-year-old you from flying away when a friend’s wind producing quirk accidentally activated. You recounted your amazement about how she jumped up a few meters to grab you and gently returned you to your spot without making a huge scene about scolding your friend. Her calm attitude and quick reflexes really inspired you to strive to be a hero, especially a hero with attention to handling cases with children involved.

Eijirou relaxed into the swing, swaying as he explained how Crimson Riot’s manly ideology and willpower to confront danger without any hesitation brought himself out of a dark time of self-doubt. The pro hero turned into an idol, influencing the boy to take on his well-known red hair and paying homage to the Crimson Riot with his own hero name Red Riot. Her further went on to explain that while he admires the manliness of the hero, he doesn’t mean that he admires the masculinity aspect of the word.

He knows the courage and determination of manliness comes in many forms; he exclaims that you exemplify that manliness, especially after learning about what happened during your training at a hero agency based in Hosu City. You had managed to hold off two villains twice your size on your own while waiting for reinforcements to arrive during a small hideout raid. Eijirou was so caught up in explaining his admiration that he hadn’t even noticed that he was slightly pulling you both towards the edge of the raised walking path. He made one wrong step and started falling towards the ground, only to have you grip his hand tightly and yank him back onto the walkway and directly into you. With a blushing face that rivalled his hair, the boy recovered from his blunder with a full-bellied laugh.

“I know I’ve been going on and on about how manly you are and how awesome your training is going. After this, I think I’m really falling for you. You’re my hero today!”

Hanta Sero

A laidback date for a laidback guy, Hanta decides to do a casual movie at home for your first date. He first takes you to the convenience store to pick up all the snacks that you’ll need for the movie marathon. He scored some copies of a childhood classic series that he knew you liked, so he wanted to make sure you both would have enough to last the eight-hour binge.

While you grabbed the popcorn, he snuck over to where the dried fruit were. Despite all of his friends’ eating habits, Hanta favored the healthier options. Although he wouldn’t mind a little sugar now and then if it were you giving it to him. Little did he know that you were lurking around the candy aisle with a specific target in mind. After a few minutes of browsing the shelves, the black-haired teen settled on a large bag of a mixed variety of snacks and met you by the checkout counter.

Hanta paid for your goodies and you walked hand in hand back to his room. After situating the hammock into place and gathering any pillows or blankets you needed, you settled in next to each other and turned on the first of many movies. You both lay there cuddling, him being the large spoon so that he’d have more room to maneuver his elbows so that they wouldn’t dig into you.

Time sped by as you both lay there and enjoyed the corny visual gags that seemed like it was just yesterday that you were watching for the first time. In between laughing your hearts out and stuffing your cheeks with popcorn, neither of you could feel the beating of each other’s hearts against one another nor the warm mood settling about the two of you. The snacks were dwindling, only one bag left unopened as you two reached the final film.

He was the one who grabbed the bag, eyebrows quirking up as he read the contents. Sugar coated orange slices; something Hanta hadn’t eaten before. He asked why you got these instead of anything else. You blushed and gingerly took one out of the bag, mumbling a response along the lines of thinking he may like them. He chuckled and pushed into you, shifting just enough to where he could snatch the treat from your hands with his lips.

“Well what do you know, these are pretty good. If these are halfway as sweet as you, then I’m in good company!”

#mina ashido #mina ashido x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #kyouka jirou #kyouka jirou x reader #denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #eijirou kirishima #eijirou kirishima x reader #hanta sero #hanta sero x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha scenarios #bnha headcanons #requested

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jenniferxprentiss · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Know Anything (But I Know I Miss You)

Chapter One: Born From Just One Single Glance

read it on ao3 here

hi!

me? writing a gay gay high school au instead of dealing with my issues? more likely than you think

thanks to my crackheads for letting me bounce ideas off you guys, thanks for being my hype girls ily all so much 💞 @f-m27 @heat-waveee @criminalmindsgonewrong @whiskey-fluent (@ everyone else lmk if you want to be on a tag list)

that’s it!! enjoy!!

———————

The sun was bright and hot, shining down on the turf and making it scalding to the touch. There were only a few weeks until the school year started and every sports team was out practicing in the hot August sun.

“Break! Go hydrate and we’ll come back for more drills.”

JJ groaned, jogging off to her bag and grabbing her water bottle and downing a few sips. She mustered up enough energy to wave at Aaron and call him over to her bag.

“Hotch! Over here!”

He jogged over, dopey smile on his face as sweat cascaded down his face in rivulets. JJ made a face, snatching the towel in his hands and using it to wipe her face off. She flopped down in the grass beside her bag, throwing a water bottle at Aaron and giggling when he fumbled it.

“It’s so hot and Coach Rossi wants us to practice another hour.”

“Lucky. Coach Gideon said at least two more for us. Got a bunch of freshman on the team this year.”

They sat in silence for a moment, JJ laying on her back, tanned stomach peeking through her shirt. Hotch pinched her and she yelped, smacking at his hand, but her annoyance turned to a small smile at the way he laughed.

They had been friends since they were born, practically, having lived two houses apart their entire lives. Aaron was still the only boy who could make JJ smile, the only boy who ever cared about her in return. When he got his license before her, he would pick her up for school and wait on her after soccer. The thought brought a small smile to her face, then a frown when she thought about the fact that this was it - the last year they were carefree kids enjoying high school and sports and parties.

The last year they were kids without worrying too much about the future.

The thought of schools and classes made JJ groan, earning herself a confused look from Aaron - it was typical, he was always a little bit confused. JJ blamed it on all the concussions from football. It always made her glad she chose a safer sport than oiled up boys in padding beating the fire out of each other.

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Hm?” JJ pushed up to her forearms, looking over at Aaron. “Oh. I have French this year and I’m totally going to fail. I need a tutor.”

“I’ll ask Em for you!” His dopey grin was enough to have JJ say yes to anything and he knew it - used it to his advantage. “She’s super smart at all of that foreign stuff because of her mom. I don’t know why you don’t hang out with me when I’m with her.”

The tiny frown on Hotch’s face was enough to make JJ feel bad, but not bad enough. She always felt like she was overstepping when she hung out with them together, and she was a little scared of Emily anyways. Her friends were the worst, the kinds of girls that made fun of Penny for being into theater and Spence for being weird, whatever that meant.

“I don’t know, Hotch.”

“She’s not an asshole. I swear she’s really being nice to you - she’s trying to be your friend.”

The sharp pierce of a whistle in the air made them jump, heads snapping in the direction of the field. Their coaches were staring at them, both wearing similar expressions of annoyance.

“Hotchner! Jareau! Social hour is over. Get on the field!” Coach Gideon bellowed, eyes squinting in the sun.

As JJ jogged off, she had never been more thankful for Coach Rossi’s bad timing.

———————

It felt like hours later when they were finally done with their drills for the day, the sun setting and casting a gorgeous pink orange glow on the field. JJ and Hotch packed their bags up side by side, taking off their equipment and cleats and moaning about how hot it had been.

“Hi guys! JJ, are you riding home with us?”

Emily. She was everything JJ wanted to be in a purely social sense, the perfect cheerleader with the perfect ponytail and perfect boyfriend.

Her face was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead and pink bag slung over her shoulder. Her bangs were stuck to her forehead, the rest of her hair pulled back into a ponytail. JJ wanted to scoff at her outfit - a sports bra and tiny shorts - but she didn’t want to create problems with Aaron.

“Uh, I was going to. Or I could walk…”

“No!” Hotch cleared his throat, grabbing his and JJ’s bags before starting the walk to the parking lot. “I mean no, you’re riding with us. Why do you get so weird?”

“Why do you insist I’m the third wheel?” JJ’s retort lacked the annoyance she truly felt, too tired and sweaty to fight with him.

“Hey.” Emily placed a hand on JJ’s shoulder and bless her, tried her best to hide her grimace at the amount of sweat on JJ and Aaron both. “You can ride with us, you can hang out with us. It’s not weird.”

JJ felt the familiar pull of guilt in her stomach as she walked behind Aaron towards his car. She hated that he could make her do just about anything with the way he shot her a dopey smile and shook out his shaggy, dark hair.

“So Emily, JJ needs a French tutor.”

“Oh, I was just mentioning it, you really don’t —“

Emily stopped, turning to look at JJ with a hard, steely look in her eyes. Her gaze was captivating and JJ wanted to fall in, to believe anything she was about to say but she couldn’t - it was too dangerous to tread this with her best friend’s pretty girlfriend.

“I will. You’re practically Aaron’s sister, I don’t get why you’re so scared of me.”

They climbed into the car, JJ shaking her head and chuckling out a laugh under her breath. It made her laugh to think that Emily thought about her that much, in between her busy schedule of being popular and making fun of all the losers like her.

“I’m not scared of you.” She paused, puffing up her cheeks and exhaled slowly. Why did Emily always challenge her like this? “But if I was scared of you, it would probably be the way you carry yourself like a badass and that your friends make fun of my friends.”

Shit. Why did she just say that?

“I’m not like them.”

There was something unspoken about Emily’s tone, turning her face and staring out the window of the car. It confused JJ, the subtext that she didn’t quite understand because god, didn’t everyone want to be as popular and pretty and rich as her?

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Jayje, do you mind if I drop you first?”

She shook her head, already buried in her phone and trying to escape the awkward exchange with Emily. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her - they just had nothing in common besides Aaron.

The car was quiet for the rest of their drive, Emily staring out the window with her hands folded in her lap. JJ glanced up at her every few seconds, perplexed by the fact that she wasn’t immersed in her phone and what was probably twenty different group chats with the popular kids. She looked tired, but not in a physical sense, and it made JJ furrow her brow at the split second thought that Emily was anything but happy with her perfect life.

They pulled up to her house and JJ nearly jumped out, thankful for the exit from the awkward silence and constantly switching stations of the radio, Emily’s deft fingers spinning the dial their entire ride but never settling on anything. She was halfway to her front door, soccer bag slung over her shoulder when she heard Emily’s voice call out to her, head peeking out the passenger window.

“Jennifer, wait!”

JJ turned around, ignoring the formality of her full name. Emily was waving at her with a ridiculous half smile and an energy JJ had never seen from her. She jogged back to the car, nearly groaning at the pain in her thighs and calves, stopping outside the window.

“My number… so you can take me up on that tutoring.”

She had a lopsided little half smile that brought a flush to JJ’s cheeks for some weird reason, face burning and heart flopping at the way she signed her name with a little heart, the way she scrawled her name and number out in a sparkly purple gel pen.

“Ms Callahan has us practicing at the gym until school starts, so I didn’t know if I’d get the chance to tell you… anyways, text me? We can set something up.”

JJ nodded dumbly, she was sure the expression on her face was priceless - slack jaw and blushing because holy shit, Emily was serious about tutoring her? She didn’t fear the inevitable social suicide?

Maybe Emily was right, she wasn’t like her friends.

“Thanks! I’ll um, I’ll catch you later.” She walked backwards up her driveway, unable to tear her eyes away from the goofy smile on both Emily and Aaron’s lips. “Bye, guys! Have a good evening!”

She jogged up the front steps and into her house, only allowing herself to exhale when Aaron’s car pulled away because shit, what was that stupid giddy feeling in her chest? JJ sunk down, back sliding down the door as she sat and stared at the paper in her hands.

Oh shit.

She couldn’t have a crush on Hotch’s girlfriend just because she was nice to her one time.

#i dont know anything but i know i miss you #jennifer jareau #jemily #emily prentiss #my writing

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be-dazzled · 4 years

Text

Sore Loser

Pairing: Mirajane Strauss, Laxus Dreyar Series: PAINtball Series GRUVIA version (It Won’t Hurt)

Writer’s Corner: So, this was a really cute, just passing series while we are stuck with a bad case of writer’s block. So far, I only have two chaps for this series but who knows inspiration might strike. Maybe the girls win again? Hehe. Enjoy!

---

Mirajane Strauss was a kind-hearted, easy-going, all-smiles woman. In other words, she was just a little ball of sunshine who got along with everyone. Until, you throw her into the battle field. Then, welcome to the dark side.

“Laxus!” cried Natsu. “Take your girlfriend away!”

“You pussies!” The woman shrieked, running havoc at the Fairytail Paintball Playground.

Despite winning this year’s ‘Boys vs. Girls Paintball Game’, the guys had to crouch behind the makeshift barrels, hiding from the crazy woman running the paintball gun at anyone in sight. It didn’t matter that the guys won. Mira felt cheated. So, she conveniently ignored their cries of surrender and open-fired at them.

Watching his five-foot-three-inch girlfriend go psycho at the guys like some kind of avenging warrior, it kind of made Laxus feel proud. His little goody two shoes making all those sons of bitches cry, putting fear in their trembling hearts. To top it all off, she was spewing cusswords at all the guys, some of whom were twice her size. Laxus was grateful he had to serve as mediator in this year’s game. Otherwise, he’d be hiding behind the barrels too.

“TAKE YOUR CRAZY GIRLFRIEND HOME!”

Loke demanded, covering that sensitive part targeted by Laxus’ psycho girlfriend, writhing on the ground in pain because he made the mistake of walking up to the fuming monster.

“Or no one in here will have kids. Ever!”

If he wasn’t burying his head on the ground in pain, Laxus was sure he’d find tears rolling down the Casanova’s religiously moisturized cheeks. But the biggest flirt of the century was right. If Laxus wouldn’t put an end to it, he’d be there the rest of the day watching the guys get their balls served to them. Laxus had better things to do, such as claiming his prize a.k.a the Dark Side Mirajane shooting the paintball gun indiscriminately. So, he walked up to the other half of the monster duo, wrestled the paintball gun out of her hands and hefted the hostile Mirajane over his shoulder.

“That’s enough, Mira.” said Laxus, patting her cute butt as Mirajane wildly wiggled over his shoulder for freedom.

“Not until I give them a piece of my mind!” refused Mira, throwing a fist at the guys behind the barrel. “You wimps! Why are you hiding now?!”

Laxus audibly sighed. “I think you’ve given them enough.”

The woman stopped struggling from his hold as Laxus carried her back to his car but she focused all energy calling the guys names. “Cry babies!” yelled she. “You don’t have balls! Hah. You don’t even deserve one!”

Laxus bit down a laugh. The woman was heartless. He reminded himself never to get on her bad side, ever. He realized the guys have finally discovered him taking care of their ‘problem’ since they started coming out of hiding and shouting back at his angry warrior.

“Well, what now? You sore loser!” He could place that voice everywhere. The same voice begging him to take out the avenging girlfriend – Natsu.

“We beat you this time!”

“Oh yeah?” retaliated she. “Put me down, Laxus. I’ll show them what ‘beat up’ supposed to mean.” Mira turned to him, propping a hand over his shoulder, ready to climb down him to smack someone. “Those spineless bastards.”

Laxus tightened his hold over her, slapping her butt this time to get her to keep quiet.

Didn’t work.

“Wait ‘til I get down from here you insolent bastards! I’m going to kick your balls up to your–”

That’s when the screaming started again. He didn’t need to look back to know what was happening. Chose not to. Because the cries gave him a clear picture of what was coming down in that battle field - a bloodbath. Some begged for their lives, some screeched in pain, and some just lauded the sacrifices of their fallen comrades.

“Yeah, that’s it Erza!” Laxus’ little monster cheered on. Whistling and yeah-ing at the other half of their monster duo.

Laxus shook his head. He was just a few steps away from where he parked his car. His friends called for him, pleading for his help. As much as he wanted to take care of the redhead too, he got his hands full of one sore loser.

“Give them heeeell!”

…

“Are you still pouting?”

“No.”

Obviously, she still was. But Laxus kept his silence as he pulled and led Mirajane into the lobby of his building.

“That freaking bastard!” She erupted after stepping into the elevator. “What a sly bastard. I didn’t even think Gray’s capable of that.” She spewed, crossing her arms underneath her chest. “What a sly bastard.” She mused, her brows meeting in the middle, eyes boring a hole at the steel doors.

“You would have done the same.” His voice was low and easy to miss except that Mira easily caught on to it.

“What?” She stared at him with disbelief. “What the… how could you even… hah. I can’t believe you’ll take their side.”

He wasn’t actually taking anyone’s side. Laxus was stating facts. But just like that, all of Mira’s anger was directed at him.

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head, hardening her jaw at his betrayal. Then, an outraged gasp bounced around the closed box. “So that’s why you get to have me as prize?” Mira concluded. “But you didn’t even join in the game.” Even if Mirajane’s height only reached his shoulders, she still stared up to him as if they were equals. Laxus loved that about his woman.

Laxus turned to face her, that accusing little thing glaring at him with questioning eyes. He bridged the gap between them, his purposeful strides intimidating her into taking steps back until there was no room to step back to. “Well, baby…” He planted both arms on either side of her head, resting his body against hers. “I saved those crybabies from this crazy woman shooting at them,” his lips hovered over her parting ones. Laxus pleasingly watched as his almost-kiss melted that angry expression on her face.

And oh how much she was anticipating that kiss.

With triumph in his voice, Laxus leaned into her ear. Slowly, he whispered, “Mine to do,” and he spoke the next words in that way he knew did things to her. “Whatever. I. Want.”

Mirajane jumped at the sound of the elevator ding. She marched out of that really, really cramp and really, really hot elevator before she forgot all about her anger and his betrayal. When did it get so hot in there? She asked herself as her feet brought her to his unit. All the while, fanning her reddened cheeks with her own hands.

A few minutes later, Mira was standing in the middle of Laxus’ apartment, confusedly staring at that golden, she dared call bikini, Laxus presented to her.

“You want me to wear that?” She questioned, expecting him to change his answer.

“Yes.” But of course Laxus has made up his mind. Handing her again the garments, this time more insistently, he reminded, “Don’t forget the hair too.” He totally ignored the way she narrowed her eyes at him and plopped to the couch to wait for Mira to get changed.

When it looked like he wasn’t going to cave in, Mira gave up and started for his bathroom.

“Fvck Gray.” She cursed under her breath.

“No, no, no, babe. You know I get jealous when you say some other guy’s name after fvck.”

Mira stopped and turned around.

“That wasn’t what I meant.” She quickly denied. But with a teasing smirk, Laxus waved her to move along and get changed into that sexy costume. It cost him a fortune but Mirajane in a Princess Leia golden bikini? Totally worth it.

One secret fantasy all the guys his age had was about to come to life and Laxus couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. He didn’t have to wait long as Mirajane materialized before his appreciative eyes, clad in the whole ensemble: copper brassiere, red loincloth, gold-plated arm-wrap, and last but definitely got the gears going was the gold-plated collar around her neck. And as Laxus demanded, Mira had her long silver hair parted in the middle and pulled into rolled buns on either side of her head. She watched the movie with him, albeit reluctantly. Mira had a faint idea what she was supposed to look like.

Laxus’ own Princess Leia. All the nerds at their parents’ basement must have died of jealousy.

Laxus ran his tongue over his lips like a predator about to devour his prey. Mirajane didn’t miss that, the way he bit his lip and how he was seemingly undressing her with his deep brown eyes. She felt her stomach knotted with the hot gaze that drank her in and she tried to ignore her own lust that flooded her body.

Undeniably and quite clearly turned on, Laxus walked up to Mirajane, holding her blue eyes captive. He stopped in front of her, mere inches away that the cups of her brassiere brushed against his hard chest. He had that half smile, that smirk that told Mira he owned her. At that moment, she thought that he might be right because Mira could hardly keep herself standing with that undeniable electricity bouncing between them. And when Laxus ran his fingers over her exposed skin, she felt the static surged through her veins. A light touch with an explosive effect.

“Your skin is so beautiful.” He said in a low rumble, only taking his eyes off of her to see where he was touching. “I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

Mira didn’t understand what he was driving at until she watched him take out a rope from behind the couch and a camera. One thought crossed her mind and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. But her heart was pounding loudly than it did earlier than when they were inside the elevator.

“Laxus… what are you…”

“Oh, this?” He dangled the rope in front of Mira’s stunned blue eyes. “Just a little payback, my slave.”

“P-payback?”

Mira matched Laxus’ measured strides with a step back but he was quick to catch on.

“Remember when you enjoyed hitting me with that whip of yours?”

Vividly.

Last year, when the girls bagged their second win and Mirajane got Laxus as her prize, the sweet and innocent girlfriend had the opportunity to show another side of her that not even Laxus has seen before – dark and domineering – who secretly enjoyed a little bondage and discipline, dominance and submission. She not only made him wear a crop top which read ‘Mira’s Little B*tch’ but Dominant Mira introduced him to a whole new world. He would be lying if he said the bondage and the whips didn’t scare him at first. It freaked him out how this alter ego enjoyed inflicting both pain and pleasure, something his Mirajane would never take delight in. The girl couldn’t even kill a bug! Or so he thought. But later, he seemed to have understood. He, a proud man, suffered through her dominance and now, Laxus was ready to give Mirajane a taste of her own medicine.

Well, sort of.

“Now, give me your hands.” ordered he, to which Mirajane complied.

Laxus watched her intently while he bound her wrists with the rope. Mira couldn’t handle the heat; she shifted her gaze and stared at her hands being wrapped together.

“Just remember my safe word–”

“–Bunnies. Your safe word is ‘bunnies’.” finished Laxus as he finally tied one end of the rope. Then, he took a step back to take a look at his masterpiece. Laxus took in her perfection, nodding satisfyingly to himself before he took a photo to memorialize this moment.

“Laxus!” complained Mira, dazed at the bright flash that almost blinded her.

But the master took his time waiting for the photo to develop and dry out. “Just a little remembrance.” said he. He looked at the Polaroid of slave Mirajane and frowned. Unfortunately, pictures couldn’t capture the perfection that was in front of him. Slave Mirajane was even better than any dream he had of this moment. But on those nights that he’d like to look back fondly on this very moment and Mirajane wasn’t around to do an encore, those photos would serve as substitute, albeit poorly.

“Now,” he threw the camera and the photos behind him, landing on the cushion of the couch, “let me remind you of who I am.” He grabbed the other end of the rope and wrapped it around his hand as he bridged the gap between them. “I’m the master, you’re the slave. That means I can do whatever I want.” Then, he pulled hard on the rope, jerking Mirajane towards him. He stole a quick peck from a surprised Mira and reminded her once more, “Whatever. I. Want.”

His deep brown eyes were full of promises – hot and wicked. Mira understood her role and, as an obedient slave, she averted her eyes away from him, cheeks turning hot and rosy.

“Yes, Master.” She consented with a small voice.

“Good girl.”

Holding on the rope, Laxus led his slave into his bedroom where a whole night of dominance and submission awaited them.

#miraxus #laxus x mirajane #be-dazzled #laxus dreyar #mirajane strauss #laxus x mira #lamira #miraxus drabble #miraxus short

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focusfixated · 4 years

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april fic rec round-up

oof. another month gone. let’s forget our troubles and read some fic.

for i am fearfully and wonderfully-made by @itsevidentvery

rating: E

fandom & pairing: good omens - aziraphale/crowley

summary: In which Aziraphale teaches Crowley to take a compliment.

notes: good, old-fashioned praise-kink fic, but with a subtle, humorous twist. i really enjoy the precision and structure of the writing style here, and how certain words work as a kind of motif throughout. there’s some deeper ideas at the heart of this, but also such a deft, light-touch of comedy and silliness - aziraphale trying to sneak praise in where crowley won’t notice was just extremely delightful.

meanwhile by @drawsaurus

rating: T

fandom & pairing: tintin - haddock/tintin

summary: He was such a wildly clumsy man, Tintin thought with great fondness, and yet so firm and reliable when it was needed of him.

notes: there are a few authors whose writing moves me beyond what they choose to do with the characters, at the level where the word-choice and verbal construction of the story is as captivating as the story that's being told & @drawsaurus is one of them. there’s such lovely homage to the source material in this, and beautiful details that create a glorious picture of domesticity. and the longing, oh boy, the longing. what’s wonderful about the story is the way that the misunderstanding between the two characters is not so deliberately obtuse as to be unbelievable. it’s a kind of soft skirting of the edges of a feeling, giving into it on some level, understanding the strangeness of it but not the fullness of it. simple, evocative, emotional. just perfect.

better dreams and plenty & isoscelees (extra e) by @stitchyblogs

rating: E