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skzdarlings · 1 year ago

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omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩

summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.

pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.

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

enjoy!

You catch his eye across the room.

There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels. The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light. The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself.

You are tired of it. The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not. At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else. They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne.

You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time. You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be.

He is vehemently not included in that.

Seo Changbin.

He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy. Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations. It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it. You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata. You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.

Those same expectations are on your enemy. You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people. You look away first.

You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men. You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance. You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor. Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions.

Your dance partner spins you. You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there. He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way. You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic.

He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating. His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way. He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow. He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.

But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature. He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous.

You would never know just looking at him. Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power. Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you.

He does not touch you. He looks. He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing. Then he spins away. Your partner pulls you back.

The dance continues.

You say you are sick and leave the party early. You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you. They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes. They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts. They dwarf you almost comically. They do not speak to you.

When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms. You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next. You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor. You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.

You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors. They are still sealed shut. Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony. There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes. But no one would know that unless you told them.

And you have only told one person.

You approach the balcony doors, wary. You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool. Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round.

You step onto your balcony slowly. The security guard can only see you when you lean over. He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere. You watch him go.

The world is quiet as it ever is. You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else. You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard. You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost. Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it.

You sigh and turn. Then you freeze at what, who, you find.

You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony. But he is just wearing one of their uniforms. You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.

Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses. He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door. If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected.

Like he has done a dozen times before.

You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom. You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside. Then you follow and slam the door shut. You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It is not what you want to say. You want to say, thank god you are here. I missed you so much. But that is an utterly foolish proclamation. You know better. You have always known better.

But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway. He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips. He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question.

“No, you shouldn’t,” you say. You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer. It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.

He steps with you. When you take another step, he follows. Back and back and back. He feels big in this space. Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world. When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see. Nothing else exists beyond him.

“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind. That rebellious heart of yours beats faster. “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says. He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope. He says it so certainly that you almost believe him.

“You can’t promise that,” you say.

“Yah, shame on you,” he teases. “You know I always keep my word.”

It is true. Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality. He is a man of strong moral principle. He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring. He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business.

And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life.

Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe. It falls open and reveals your little nightdress. His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you. You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you.

It is no struggle for Changbin. He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times. He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over. He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you. You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting.

With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster. You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you. It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple.

“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me. What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah? Fight me?”

You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation. You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple.

His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.

“Poor baby,” he says. “She’s so good to her family. It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.” He moves the gun, making your breath catch again. The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down. It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still. The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly. “Tsk, tsk,” he says. “No panties. Maybe it’s not my fault completely.”

“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.

He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.

It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party. You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment. There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him. Your heart is so full you could burst.

You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile.

“Well,” you say. “What are you waiting for?”

He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you. You moan against his lips. His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.

You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all. Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you.

“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck. He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts. He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is.

“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly. He is so good with his tongue. You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon. Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him.

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”

You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation. With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait. You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together. Your body feels wrong without him inside it. You need him like a breath of air.

“Please,” you say.

You do not have to beg much. He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you. You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you. He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds.

“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely.

You know the feeling. You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall. He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head. You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape. You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out.

You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes. He bites his wrist to keep his volume down.

You wipe your lips, smiling. Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle. You slide it off completely. Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes. He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.

You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow. He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well.

“Baby,” he says. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply.

It just makes him laugh. The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment. He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck. He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked.

He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face. He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Go on,” you say, nodding.

Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon. The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs. You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there. You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking.

He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows. “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod. “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh. “Of course it was. It’s me.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“You are incorrigible,” you say.

He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you. It makes you whimper, delighted.

“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases. “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.”

“I’m sure you did,” you say. Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement. You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place. No one understands you better than him.

That understanding is written all over his face. He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand. His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon.

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again. “Don’t think about it now. It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

“I know,” you say. You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can. The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate. But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon. You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #valentinesdaystories #anonymous request

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lacoffeeaddict · 10 months ago

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I'm begging you, PLEASEE draw pc scott

AAAAAAA YEYAYAYAYA SCOTTTT SOMEONE FINALLY ASKED MMEMEEEEMEM TO DRAW THIS SILLYYY

AAAUGHHSJHSHKA HERE IS SCOTTTT I LOVE HIMMMMMM SM

THANK U FOR THE REQUEST !!! <3

#silly #art #fanart #south park #south park fanart #south park art #south park post covid #post covid #scott malkinson #south park scott #sp scott malkinson #anonymous request

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ninathekillxr · 3 months ago

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Can you do Toby x EJ headcanons?

Yes I sure can!

• Definitely yapper x listener duo with Toby yapping and jack listening.

• Jack constantly pesters Toby about wounds that Toby hadn’t even noticed he had. He will spend hours disinfecting wounds and trying to keep Toby from injuring themself.

• Toby explains things to jack that they don’t understand, being a demon and all.

• Probably the least toxic relationship in the manor.

• Toby treats Jack a bit like an oversized puppy. Gently scratching jacks head as if petting a dog.

• When toby is out on missions he will take the kidneys from his victims to bring back for jack.

• Jack is very greatful for Toby.

• Toby is the jealous one in the relationship. Getting annoyed when jack talks to someone else for too long.

• Jack reassures Toby constantly.

• Jack is extremely patient with Toby especially when they are struggling with their bpd.

• Toby definitely have one of his kidneys to jack…

“Do you want one of my kidneys?”

“What…?”

• Jack is paranoid asf about hurting Toby accidentally. Even though Toby wouldn’t be able to feel it Jack still worries.

Nina’s comments~

I’m definitely gonna do more things like this because it’s super fun!

Nina out!

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halfmoonshines · 1 year ago

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Hello! I saw that you write for TVD so I wonder if I can get a Damon x witch!poc fem reader, in which she, deferential to everyone who only expects the worst from him, sees something good in him, which is why she always chooses him and defends him (only Damon receiving all the love and care he deserves) please? With lots of fluffy and angst

thank you <333

deserving

damon salvatore x witch!poc fem reader

summary; you were not blind to everyone's aggression and faults, so why was everyone blind to everything but Damon's?

a note that this is not set anywhere specific in timeline - alsooo... minor Elena hate? She's such a villain to me.

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The living room of the boarding house had been destroyed, couch flipped and table turned to scrap by Stefan's outburst. He had stormed out quickly afterward, but not before telling both Elena and Damon that they had made him this way.

You stood near the entrance to the room, the magic in your veins humming as it begged to be released on the retreating, erratic vampire. He had been binging on human blood for so long now, you weren't sure he would ever go back to the mild mannered man you had first met all those years ago. No matter what scheme Elena and Damon concocted in their desperate attempt to save him.

"This is all your fault." Elena's voice wavered, but it was full of venom. Your eyes snapped to find her but she was locked on the eldest Salvatore. "You did this to him."

Damon shook his head, confusion marring his face. "Elena, you know that I've been trying-"

"If you had just cleaned up your act a bit sooner, Damon!" She was angrily gathering her things now, getting ready to storm out after her equally as volatile ex. "He wouldn't be this way if you hadn't influenced him."

Your eyes were only on Damon then, you could see the tell-tale clench of his jaw from across the room. The way his fingers flexed. He was upset, because he cared, but he would lash out because he didn't know how else to stand up for himself.

"That's not very fair, Elena. Stefan is his own person. Damon didn't make him do anything." Your voice was firm as you took the single step down into the living room, inching closer to Damon. Trying to let him know he wasn't alone.

Elena's eyes narrowed, a disbelieving smile gracing her face. "Are you really defending him right now?"

"Yes." No hesitation. "I am." You could feel his gaze burning a hole in your back while you stood like a human shield between him and the Gilbert. "I understand you're upset, we're all worried about Stefan. But it isn't fair to blame everything on Damon."

Her scoff would bother you for the next week. "Whatever you say." And with that she left.

The nervousness was settling in your chest when you finally turned to Damon, offering him a small smile. "Sorry about that."

His eyes searched yours for just a second before he turned around and walked upstairs silently.

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"Damon, you're bleeding." You noticed the blood literally pouring from his abdomen when he peeled himself away from you, having shielded you from the explosion that just rocked the gym of the high school. You vaguely noticed your friends pulling themselves to their feet around you, Caroline and Stefan arguing with each other over something. You didn't notice Elena storming over.

Everyone else's yelling voices faded away when you looked up to meet his gaze, noticing his eyes flickering over your dark skin, checking you for any injuries of your own.

You reached a hand out to heal him. You knew he would heal eventually, but it was the least you could do since he most definitely got injured shielding you. You didn't know what was going on with you and Damon lately, but just the thought of him bleeding made you nauseous.

Before your hand could make contact he was yanked away from you, a barely perceptible wince coming from him at the movement. You were angry before you even decided to be.

"How could you not warn us?" Elena's voice was shrill against the pounding in your head from the boom that happened moments ago. You couldn't help but noticed she didn't have a scratch on her but didn't hesitate to hit Damon right in the chest.

"Elena." You stepped forward to wedge yourself between them, not wanting Damon to take the matter into his own hands but not allowing Elena to put a hand on him. Vampire or not.

Everyone was staring now.

"No! Don't Elena me. He full knew that this group of vampires had ex military with them. A warning about potential bombs would have been nice!"

You tried hard to put a cap on your frustration. "Why would he willingly walk into somewhere that could blow him to pieces? Pretty sure there's no coming back from that. Even for a vampire."

Elena seemed to debate her reply for a moment, gaze going from the rigid vampire behind you to your own eyes. "One day, he's going to hurt you so bad, you won't care about his feelings anymore." She left with that, Stefan and Caroline in tow. Caroline was the only one who cast a haphazard glance back at you.

"Thank you." His voice was quiet, and your shock was loud.

"Of course."

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"Can you believe him?" You winced as Elena's angry voice sounded after the slam of the front door. You and Caroline had beat her to her own home after the showdown at the grill, hoping to clean up the broken glass you knew was waiting for her.

"I mean, what else do we expect?" Bonnie's reply was sardonic when they both rounded the corner, spying the other women in the kitchen.

"Damon is the most selfish, disgusting idiot that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing." Elena's tone was final as she slammed her purse down on the kitchen counter, pulling up one of the stools to plop into.

You tried to ignore that angry twinge that always started in your chest whenever people set their crosshairs on the older Salvatore. He seemed to be everyone's resident punching bag, despite the recent uncovered issues Stefan also harbored.

"I still say we should get rid of him." Caroline sounded chipper at the idea she presented, ready to have his head on a pike.

That was most definitely all that you could take. The glass you had been cleaning was roughly thrown into the trash can. "So we're going to get rid of Stefan too, right? Cut out the evil right at its root. Maybe Tyler too."

Her friends looked taken aback, each ones eyebrows pulling together while they stole glances at each other.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie was hesitant in her question, her caramel colored eyes focusing on your own.

"I'm fine, Bon. But it doesn't seem like you guys are. For the last year, all I have heard is how Damon is the bane of everyone's existence. How he's evil. How is what happened tonight his fault? Do you blame him for trying to save his mother? You surely wouldn't fault Stefan for doing the same. How can you make him the villain if you wouldn't hesitate to do what he does? If you were put in the same position?" You gripped the kitchen counter, willing your magic to calm from the swirling mess inside of your stomach.

"You can't mean that. He's done terrible things." Elena argued, arms crossing over her chest.

"So have you. So have I. But he's also done amazing things, Elena. He's sacrificed himself time and time again to try and win some kind of favor with you people but you've done nothing but take him for granted, and then demonize him even more when he dares to let your treatment of him hurt his feelings." By the end of your statement, you had your purse hanging off your arm and you were shoving past Bonnie to get out the door.

"Where the hell are you going?" Caroline questioned.

"To go make sure Damon's okay."

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You were pretty sure you knew where you were going to find him. Since The Grill was out of commission due to the commotion early in the night, he was definitely drinking at home. That's where you came upon him, sprawled out on the couch in the living room of his home, tumbler of amber liquid dangling from his fingers.

"Shouldn't you be plotting my demise with the Scooby Gang?" The defeat in his voice nearly made you halt, a sadness pulling at the back of your eyes. This man had no venom to him, only defeat.

You came around the couch and gently moved his legs to the ground, taking the seat you just cleared. Those clever blue eyes tracked your movements, something foreign shaded in them.

"I know you don't usually want to, but do you want to talk about tonight? It wasn't an easy decision to make, Damon." You tried to sound understanding without being placating, fearing him holding up behind those walls he so loved to build.

"It wasn't a difficult decision. She had to die. So she did." You would've believed his cold mask if you hadn't heard the cracking in his voice.

You sighed a bit, daring to reach a hand out to rest on his knee. His gaze snapped to yours quickly, hardening slowly like water in winter. "You don't deserve to feel like the villain, Damon. You're put in impossible positions to make terrible decisions, and then shunned for them. Please don't let their hatefulness make you feel any less than you are."

You thought he was going to quip back at you at first, a sardonic smirk on his face - but it dropped quickly, and his voice was almost a breath when he asked his question. "Why do you keep defending me?"

A million answers floated through your mind, because there were so many. But you felt like there was only one that would suffice right now. "Because I care about you."

His lips found yours quickly, fitting together like the last pieces of a puzzle.

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#damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore #tvd #tvd verse #the vampire diaries #vampire diaires #damon salvatore x fem!reader #damon salvatore x witch!poc reader #anonymous request #tvd fanfiction #damon salvatore fanfiction #my wor #my works #damon salvatore x female reader

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sinisterexaggerator · 1 month ago

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Can I ask for Cad Bane x FTM reader hcs? SFW and NSFW, no limits. Maybe a fic if you're in the mood? I'm on anon because I'm shy.

Hello, anon! Hopefully, you will like this. I did my best. This is my first try at a ftm reader insert! Feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated if you feel they are deserved! I will take correction and advice for THIS FIC ONLY. It's important to listen to the target audience. <3

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A Good Story

Cad Bane x Trans Male (AFAB) Reader

Summary: You are a bored weapon's merchant on Fondor, a planet located near Devaron; Cad Bane has a date with Bolla Ropal at the Jedi temple and is in the market for something special—but you have the nerve to try to rip him off. Bane has money, and you're in need—surely he won't bat an eye at the high price tag?

Warnings: NSFW / 18+ for double-penetration and finger-fucking. Bane goes in both ways. I also make use of the words cunt and dick in relation to genitalia. There is a mention of the reader wearing a binder.

Word count: 4.5K +

Ao3

God, you were bored.

Fondor was a planet with little to do save for your dead-end job, lonely nights spent nursing bottom shelf brandy in some dingy, hole-in-the-wall cantina, unable to escape the smells of the shipyard. It reeked of tibanna, oil, tar, and rust, the odors having long since taken up residence in the vibrissae of your nose, lingering there, giving you no short reprieve—even after a shower.

Still, that wasn’t even your work. The Clone War was getting closer to your rocky home world with every passing day. It made sense. You lived in the Colonies, situated within the Inner Rim; threats from the Separatists loomed just beyond your backyard, populated with important trade routes.

It appeared Count Dooku, the leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, had the idea that Fondor should join his ranks. The Republic now vied for your attention but talks led nowhere—no one wanted to join Dooku willingly.

That’s where you came in.

Well, sort of.

“Good choice,” you praised the buyer of a DL-22 blaster pistol, the man placing the sum of five-hundred credits into your outstretched hand.

“Best to be armed nowadays,” he said dismissively, looking down the barrel of his newly acquired, high-priced toy.

The DL-22 was designed by BlasTech Industries and packed quite a powerful punch. A high-quality focusing crystal had been utilized by the weapon’s manufacturer to increase the damage output of the pistol’s blast bolts. This resulted in a reduction of the gun's stun setting, but most found the exchange to be well worth it.

“Can I interest you in any extra power cells? Carts? It only comes with the one up front.” If you had learned nothing else from this job, it was that your boss demanded you try to upsell every customer who walked in off the street. You resented him for that, but you also liked the extra commission when things worked out.

“Nah, got some back home.” The man was already holstering his purchase, aiming to walk out the door.

“We have a three rotation return policy,” you said, more as an afterthought. The man nodded he understood, then left.

You sighed. You wondered how much longer until your next customer. Sometimes, hours passed, and you would not see a single soul. It wasn’t that you minded, but the time seemed to drag on endlessly. There was only so much you could do on your datapad; scrolling through newsreels after a while became demoralizing.

You had just begun to read an article about Wilhuff Tarkin, the governor of Eriadu, when the door chimed. You found a stopping point at the end of the next paragraph and looked up, a habitual, customer-friendly smile having crept across one side of your face.

Then, it fell clean off.

A Duros strolled into your shop, the echo of his boots filling your ears as he sauntered across the duracrete floor.

That was the word for it, sauntered—he was strolling with what could only be described as a kind of confident detachment, a wide-brimmed hat hiding the fine details of his disposition, though you saw he was sporting the tiniest hint of a snaggle-toothed smirk.

You cleared your throat. “Hello, welcome.”

He said nothing, coming ever closer, causing the skin on the back of your neck to prickle. He seemed familiar, somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. His short walk ended as he set the pads of all ten of his fingers down flat across the countertop, just to the right of the register—you wondered if he meant to rob you blind.

You allowed your eyes to travel the length of his skeletal frame, taking in his well-worn ensemble; the tightness of the leather; the glint of the metal accoutrements; the creak of the material as he tipped marginally forward, putting all his weight on one leg as he bent his knee, shifting his stance to one that was more casual.

Then, his chin rose. The face that was revealed startled you to the point you gasped. You sucked in a quick inhalation of air, filling your lungs before you refocused, this time on his eyes.

They were two austere, gleaming red jewels inlaid among the bluest scales—severe in appearance, surrounded by scars of varying depth and length.

Fuck; he was handsome. More attractive than he had any right to be. And his mouth—you suddenly couldn’t take your eyes off it, or off the two tapered fangs that peeked out at you from lips that were dry and cracked. But you thought it didn’t matter—you would kiss those lips if he asked you t—

“—In de market fer somethin’ special.” He interrupted your train of thought for another to take its place. His voice was like something you had never heard before, rough while at the same time smooth and sensual; he was as easy on the ears as he was on the eyes, and he had your full attention.

“Oh?” you asked, doing your utmost to stay calm, to come off as nonchalant. “And what might that be?” you inquired, genuinely curious, though hoping he wouldn’t surprise you with a request that was outside your wheelhouse. You realized that even though you did not know his name, you would hate to disappoint whoever this man was.

“Projectile launcher,” he started, pushing off the counter to stand up straight. He was a tall drink of water, enough to quench your thirst, though staring at him seemed to have the opposite effect. You felt as if you had never been this thirsty in your life. “Fer a cortosis shot.”

“Cortosis ore?” You felt the question had been a dumb one on your part, no sooner than you had asked it.

The Duros’ brow twitched, raising upward toward one side. He folded his arms and stared you down with those cold, crimson eyes, wondering what the hell else you thought he might be referencing.

“Problem?”

“What? No. No, we uh—” You released his heady gaze to glance back down at your datapad with some reluctance. “We have several weapons in stock that might suit your needs.”

You pretended to sort through your inventory, but you had just begun a search for Duros—ones that might be in some form of media, or on the news.

“Yeah? Like what.”

Why was it suddenly hard to swallow? Why did you feel so warm? You felt the blood rushing to your face, unable to curtail the onset of what was presumably anxiety, your finger adeptly scrolling through the holofeed as fast as the device permitted.

“Depends on what you’re after—something compact, something a little flashier—” Your eyes widened as you caught sight of a report some few days back; this Duros had been the one involved in a break-in at the Jedi temple. An APB had been put out for his capture—Cad Bane.

He was considered to be armed and dangerous. That much was obvious. But why was he here now?

“Somethin’ good ‘nough te disarm a Jedi,” came his reply. You looked back up and returned your datapad to the counter. His gaze was measured, calculating.

“Find anythin’ interestin’ on dhere?” the bounty hunter growled, eyeing you with evident suspicion. You panicked, pressing a button alongside the glowing screen so that it would blank out and go dark.

“Many ... something's,” you said awkwardly. You may have been scared shitless, but you weren’t stupid. Not entirely. Stupid enough to use this situation to your advantage, though, or at least stupid enough to try.

“A-a Jedi?” you inquired, trying to keep the fear from your voice, but ultimately changing the subject. You hoped against all odds he hadn’t seen what you had last been looking at.

“What Ah said,” he snapped. “Show me.”

“Right! Sure!”

You scampered to the back, looking amongst the shelves for the blaster you knew you had in stock. You used this moment not only to find something that might please the Duros, but also to catch your breath—your heart was pounding as you came to terms with who was waiting for you, yet you knew the man had money. Lots of it.

“Cad fucking Bane,” you whispered to no one in particular, staring blankly at a row of pistols, your vision nearly blurring as you practically disassociated—unable to believe that the galaxy’s most notorious hired gun had just waltzed into your meager storefront, and on a day you happened to be working.

“What?” came a low note in your ear.

You overtly jumped, turning around, terror-stricken and at a loss for words.

The bastard was right behind you! How had he done that? How did you not even hear him approach?!

“Shit, man! Don’t—don’t karking do that!” you said without thinking. The Duros narrowed his eyes, withdrawing a toothpick he had on his person somewhere, retrieving it from out the corner pocket of his coat.

“Do what,” he asked flatly.

“Sneak up on me!” you panted, gasping for air.

“Wastin’ my time,” he rasped, placing the scrap of wood between his teeth. It was plain as daylight he was losing his patience, yet you had only exchanged a few scant words.

“OK, look. I’m sorry—it’s—it’s not every day Cad Bane walks into my shop.”

“Well, dhen teday’s yer lucky day, innit?” he asked, sarcasm lacing his tone, the Duros speaking from around the inserted toothpick resting gingerly betwixt his fangs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” You forced yourself to calm by thinking one thought only—if he wanted you dead or to hurt you, he already would have.

“Won’t ask again—show me,” he commanded.

You walked toward the back row of shelves without another word; the Duros followed. You stretched out your arms, gathering what you had been after—a top of the line slugthrower, a weapon that used kinetic energy to fire solid objects, metal objects—you hoped it was what the man was looking for.

You turned around and presented it to him; Bane lifted it straight out of your hands. He turned it this way and that, giving it a thorough examination, extending it as if meaning to take a shot. He pulled the trigger, though it wasn’t loaded, then shifted his gaze toward yours—you had been staring. “How much?”

Now was your chance—would you dare try to coax a little more out of him than the asking price? Maybe money was no object to a person of his wealth and status. It was no secret Bane worked for the highest bidder. Everyone knew his was the highest price tag and that he was capable of any job should you pay him his just dues.

You idly wondered who had paid him to break into the temple back on Coruscant…

“Ye slow?” Bane snarled, flashing his teeth. You had zoned out again, making yourself look more or less like an idiot three times now.

“Two thousand,” you shot back. This particular model was only worth twelve hundred.

The Duros gawked at you, arched a brow, then outright laughed a dry honk of a laugh. “HA! Ye must be dumber dhan kriff te think Ah’m payin dhat.”

“Take it or leave it,” you bravely replied, although you wished you hadn’t for what came next.

The hunter’s eyes narrowed for the second time within your presence. He shoved the shotgun back into your arms, forcing you to stumble backward. He removed the toothpick he had been gnawing on to place it against the underside of your chin. Your own eyes widened as you swallowed down your excess spit.

“Ye tryin’ te pull one over on me, son?” Bane asked, his voice riddled with animosity, betraying his lack of self-restraint.

“I—what? N-no—” you managed, hardly able to look at him directly.

Still, this sudden closeness, the smell of the Duros—it was intoxicating. Despite his piss-poor attitude, his leering was doing things to you. Things you could not explain except that it was your animal brain enlivening, as were your loins, much to your embarrassment.

Then, the Duros smiled. It was a shit-eating, nefarious sort of smile. A smile that made your blood run cold and your groin catch fire. “Dhat fear Ah smell, er somethin’ else?”

Your cheeks burned, though you would recover, finding your obstinance somewhere deep down inside you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, that’s the asking price,” you lied, the pounding of your heart thrumming in your ears.

“Ah know what dhis shit’s werth, and it ain’t dhat,” Bane hissed, pushing the sharp point of his toothpick more succinctly against you, the scars and lines that were etched into the flat of his face close enough to touch, close enough to kiss.

“Make ye a deal, since Ah know ye wanna fuck me,” Bane taunted savagely.

“W-what?!” you asked surprised, thrown off by his candidness. Was he a mind reader? Could he sense your desperation?

What you were not privy to was that Bane was in a rare, good mood, having just stolen a holocron out from under the noses of half a dozen Jedi, making out with a new ship and a payout that was triple. Normally, he might just shoot you for trying to pull a fast one, but there was something about you that intrigued him—maybe it was the brazen way in which you had tried to overcharge him. It was something he might do, after all.

“Pay ye what it’s werth, and Ah’ll give ye somethin’ te tell yer friends,” Bane snickered. “If ye got any,” he nastily teased, adding insult to injury.

“I … I have friends,” you defended, giving him a once over. You felt entirely too hot, your body having betrayed you for wanting this horrible, cutthroat man.

“Dhat mean we have ourselves a deal?” His grin returned, toothy and sadistic.

“I’ll drop it to twelve … but only if you can make me cum.”

Were you crazy? Had you actually gone temporarily insane?

Not only did the Duros’ rostrum crinkle in a twisted sort of delight, but the corners of his horizontal, ovate eyes did as well, his malicious smirk reaching to the tops of his gaunt cheeks.

“Ye got guts, Ah’ll give ye dhat—time te rearrange ‘em,” he stated cattily, flicking his chewed-up toothpick onto the floor.

You almost laughed, but thought it the wrong choice, not that you had much time to think through things to begin with, Bane on you faster than a womp rat up a drainpipe now that you had given your express consent.

The Duros snatched the slugthrower back out of your hands, tossing it down to join his toothpick on the ground, the shotgun landing with a clatter as he grasped you by the collar of your shirt, shoving you back against the row of shelves behind you.

“Turn around and spread ‘em,” he advised.

“Wait! That’s—that’s not exactly what I’m into,” you dared, taking a deep breath.

The hunter canted his head like an inquisitive took’, looking at you like you had just grown a second head yourself. Yet, he did not take yours clean off. Instead, he posed a question.

“Ye exspectin’ Ah be gentle?”

“No, just—go easy.”

“Easy …”

Bane hummed a sound, as if rolling over what you had said in his mind. Then, he closed the gap between you, pressing himself up against your aching loins; you could feel the outline of the Duros through his distressed jeans. It was … unusual, to say the least.

“Have it yer way.”

Bane moved toward the button at the top of your pants, dexterous fingers undoing the clasp within seconds. You found yourself holding your breath as one large hand slipped between the folds of your boxers, trying not to dwell on what he might think once he realized—

“Hold on!” you interjected, the Duros’ creeping digits stopping just below your belt line. He bared his teeth in annoyance, but it couldn’t be helped. You had one more thing to tell him.

“Tryin’ my patienccce,” Bane sizzed, his free hand wandering up to clutch your throat, holding your head steady as he gazed penetratingly into your eyes.

“Just thought maybe you should know that I—”

“Cahnnit,” the hunter snapped, the Duros’ sizeable fingers once more taking to movement as he pressed one between the folds of your labia. “Already know,” he informed you in a matter-of-fact tone. “Think Ah ain’t never karked a man with a cunt before?”

Bane snorted out a laugh as your breath caught in your throat, the Duros guiding his index finger to gently fondle the growth between your legs, “dhis ain’t my ferst rodeo, kid, now try te relax before ye piss me off.”

You nodded, unable to peel your eyes away from his, the brim of his hat steeping you both in shadow as you did the unthinkable, pushing up off your toes in an attempt to kiss him.

The hunter pushed you back with the point of a finger, then dipped down low at the same time he dipped inside you, gathering a measure of your slick. His thumb worked your dick in concentric circles as one large, elongated forefinger gave you something to mull over, the Duros leaving you gasping for air at the thought he hadn’t even stuck his cock inside you yet.

“Feel good?” he asked, as if he cared, as if might actually be concerned for how you were feeling. Whether or not it was an act wasn’t the point, just glad enough that he had taken the time to ask.

“Yes,” you breathed, your mouth so close to his, yet he had still refused to kiss you. It was almost unbearable, Bane immersing his finger into your tight hole to his third knuckle, curling it at just the right slant to apply the perfect amount of pressure against your anterior walls.

“Now… why don’t ye be a good boy and turn around fer me,” he coerced, though not so demanding as last time. His good boy sent your mind reeling; you were already lost to him, unable to move, unable to speak, riding the high that was Bane finger-fucking you in the back of your workplace—shit—if anyone walked in…

You tried to obey him, but your body was not cooperating by no fault of your own. You had not felt this good in ages, the intense pleasure you were experiencing outweighing the frightening prospect of being spied having relations by your immediate supervisor or any other customer.

“Need a lil’ help, do ye?” Bane asked, the wet squelch of his finger vacating your insides causing you to heavily blush. Though incapable of speech, you were past the point of caring, letting the Duros ultimately have his way with you against your better judgment. Maybe you were naive for thinking he wouldn’t hurt you, but things seemed to now be fully out of your control, allowing your unconventional lover to rotate your human form however he so wished.

You felt your pants slide down towards your thighs; your boxers were next, falling past the crack of your ass, Bane once more pressing himself firmly against you as you heard a shuck, a rattle of metal, and the peeling of what sounded like thermoguard being pried apart by its seams.

“Which hole ye want it in?” Bane thought to ask, perhaps assuming he was being considerate. Before you could answer him in any way, shape or form, he decided for you. “Both,” he chortled.

“What do you—” you began, but were quickly silenced, something slick and slimy finding its way up your slit while another something knocked on your back door, though the Duros was kind to you in that its introduction was gradual, his cock’s tapered tip slim and pliable, enabling it to slip inside your ass in tiny increments.

You realized his species must self-lubricate; you thanked the Whills. Even though it felt beyond compare, you knew you would be sore by this time tomorrow.

“Look how good ye take it,” Bane lauded, though you could not tell if he was being sincere. You were left to seethe through your teeth, hissing tiny breaths, Bane only moving insofar as you could stand. He seemed to have a second sense for this, though the other of his cocks pushed up inside you; they were obviously stacked, these dual phalli, ribbed in all the right ways; pressing into you at all the right angles.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, panting like a man who had just run a marathon, moans of pleasure escaping your throat as a feeling of ecstasy mixed with a good kind of pain traveled its way down your spine, spreading outward from its origin point at the base of your skull.

“If ye insist,” Bane drawled, his bony hips thrusting themselves forward to where you belted out a sound that pleased him, Bane laughing a vicious little laugh as he reached around you, taking up the sizable nub that rested between your thighs.

“Louder,” he instructed, wanting to hear you sing, wanting to feel you writhe under him as he fucked you alongside an inordinate amount of deadly weaponry.

You pressed your hands flat along the shelves in front of you, digging your fingers into the wood. You would leave deep rents by the end of your time here, grasping for purchase as he began to rail you harder.

You moaned again, louder as he deemed it necessary. “Bane,” you praised, holding on for dear life as he gave you a good old-fashioned reach around while doubly penetrating you from behind. The overwhelming number of sensations you were feeling had your brain short-circuiting, the Duros swaying you toward an almost gentle release.

You reached a peak, biting down against your own hand, your dull, human teeth leaving their imprint across your flesh, damp with sweat, proof of pleasure rendered.

“Ain’t gettin’ off so easy after all,” Bane crooned spitefully in your ear. You momentarily wondered if he was referring to your orgasm, until you understood—he didn’t plan on stopping just because you came. He kept on rocking into you, over and over, simultaneously hitting your G-spot while stimulating the nerves in your anus, causing you to cum a second time.

Your body quaked beneath him, his thin hips enough to bruise you, to tenderize the meat of your rump as he gripped either side of your haunches, squeezing tight—you were glad he had never once groped you through your binder.

You weren’t entirely sure why you had agreed to this—especially without protection—but here you were, and you realized you had no desire to stop it from happening.

“Want it,” you croaked. “All of it.”

Bane obliged, discharging a thick, gelid substance into your cunt, followed by another round coating every inch of your inner walls. He did not hold back as was your preference, things only once more becoming impersonal when he raised up off your back, his rail-thin chest having been resting upon you, the rapid fluttering of his heart felt through the sparse fabric of your shirt.

It was a unique feeling, causing you to shiver reflexively, observing that his cocks weren’t by any means synchronized in their release. You only now began to wonder about his anatomy; what purpose it served to have two for a Duros, though you did not have one complaint regardless, and he had not questioned you about yours.

Bane finished himself off, then withdrew from you with a resounding, pressurized suck, every rib and crest felt by your sensitive loins on his way out.

“Hope ye got a ‘fresher ‘round here,” he quipped.

---

Bane had tucked himself away and waited for you, but you had the inkling he wouldn’t have stuck around had he not needed you. In fact, he didn’t—he could have easily walked out of there with the shotgun in tow, but he seemed to be a man of his word, extending an arm to offer you up his credit stick.

“Ye run it fer twelve, like we agreed.”

You nodded; kept quiet. You processed his payment, noting that the name that popped up on your screen was not his own.

“Werhl Tahoon?” you asked, quirking a brow.

“Ah really gotta explain dhat te ye?” he asked, visibly annoyed.

Of course, he didn’t. He was a wanted man, a criminal. He had assumed names, false identities … who knew how many bank accounts he had, and on which planets. All that mattered was that his money was good, the twelve hundred credits being withdrawn and added to your bosses' coffer.

“Sounds like the name of some nerfpoke from a cheesy holo—”

His glare shut you up; you handed him his card, having previously retrieved the slugthrower from off the floor on your way back out. You gazed at his hand as he plucked it from yours, thinking about the way those lithe fingers had been inside you, how you had felt every knuckle, how you would dream for years to come about this Duros, though he would most likely forget about you as soon as he departed from your shop.

You flinched as he once more snatched you by your collar like before, those same, agile fingers tightening around the cloth as he reeled you in, bringing you within mere centimeters of his face.

“Be in yer best interest naht te try and rip people off—next time, ye may just get pumped fulla lasers rather dhan gettin’ plugged.”

He kissed you roughly on the mouth; you felt the scrape of a tooth, its sharp point grazing your skin. It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

Then, he released you; he left you gasping for air. He seemed to have that effect on you. The idea that he was leaving was suddenly too much; unthinkable, even as he strapped the slugthrower across his back and tipped his brim.

Like an idiot, you called out to him as he made his way, taking him in one last time—the way his duster moved fluidly around him, the way his hat enshrouded him.

“Where are you going?” you asked, as if a jilted lover, as if you meant something, as if he might have the decency to tell you anything about his plans or about himself.

He turned on the heel of his boot, one arm lifting as his hand dug into the confines of his coat. He withdrew an object—cube-shaped, many-sided, and covered in intricate designs. You didn’t know what it was, but you thought it must be rare and beautiful, like him, and blue to boot.

In realty, it was a stolen Jedi holocron, filled with the names of all the galaxy’s up-and-coming Force-users, the future of the Jedi Order—and he had been paid to nick it from the Archives by one Darth Sidious.

Bane smirked as he deigned to answer to the likes of you.

“Devaron—got a Jedi te catch,” he snickered.

Devaron … it was a planet not too far from here, within the Colonies, bordering your sector.

You thought to comment, but then he was gone, leaving behind what he had promised—a good story to tell your friends. God, what you wouldn’t give to go with him, out on some grand adventure—an almost childish fantasy you would harbor in your heart forever, much like the man named Bane.

… What a shame.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x Reader #Cad Bane x Trans Male Reader #Cad Bane x AFAB Reader #Cad Bane x FTM Reader #Star Wars #Fanfiction #x you #x reader #my writing #clone wars #bad batch #book of boba fett #Anonymous request #thanks for the ask!#Duros #Bounty Hunter

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hannie-berrie · 23 days ago

Note

I can easily imagine Seongje sending notes to his gf in class... I'll ask your opinion in form of a scenario 🤭

OMG ANON I JUST SAW THIS WOW YOU SENT THIS A WHILE AGOOO! Also this is a fire idea omlllll okay okay let me write this one out

You. Me. After Class.

The lecture was dull. The professor's voice bore you out, the kind that made your eyelids heavy and your brain ache. You tapped your pen against the side of your notebook, blinking hard to stay awake.

That's when the first note slid onto your desk.

Folded twice. Written on a piece of paper that looks like old homework.

You didn't need to look to know who it was from.

Still, you turned just a little. He was lounging in his chair like he had been waiting for you to turn around, one arm draped lazily across the back of his seat, his eyes already on you.

Smirking.

You opened the note.

“Skirt’s shorter than usual, are you doing this on purpose? "

Your jaw tightened. You bit the inside of your cheek, shook your head once, and didn't reply.

Another note arrived three minutes later. Slid across the narrow aisle like a secret dare.

"You look cute when you're pretending not to read this"

You sighed. Wrote back quickly.

"Seongje, stop, I could get in serious trouble"

Seconds passed. Then another.

"You're making it difficult to focus, don’t you think that could get you in trouble?”

You didn't respond this time. Threats He leaned forward, just enough to whisper behind your ear his breath warm, the hint of his cologne like a whisper in your pulse.

"Red looks good on you."

Your cheeks burned.

That’s the colour of your underwear.

Of course he noticed.

He didn't lean back right away. His fingers brushed lightly over the back of your arm, barely a touch.

Then came the final note, passed with a grin that should've been illegal in a classroom setting:

"Meet me behind the art building after this."

He didn't even look at you after that, just rested his chin in his hand like nothing happened.

But you could feel it.

That low, simmering buzz of what he meant without saying it.

You didn't pass a note back.

But you closed your notebook with five minutes left.

And his smirk deepened.

MASTERLIST

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selfishmachines1111 · 5 months ago

Note

HELLOO!!!! can I request for a shadow(and any other characters you’d like to put!) x reader where reader has anger issues and tends to get a bit violent when they’re angry?

ALSO I LOVE UR SONIC JEALOUSY HEADCANONS SM THEY WERE SO GOOD😭😭

thank you sm!!! i hope you enjoy!!!

Issues

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲; 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐆

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭; 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖

┊➤ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭(?)

shadow would most likely understand your anger issues, especially with the fact that he too has problems controlling his anger. so whenever you’d snap at him unintentionally, he’d try to not let his anger leak out. although, during the beginning of your relationship, it would cause some problems from time to time, leading to arguments between the two of you.

since shadow’s not so good with showing his emotions right off the bat, he probably wouldn’t apologize first. it’d start off with you two giving each other the cold shoulder, even if you were to live under the same roof. you guys wouldn’t lay in the same bed, and if you did you two would completely avoid facing each other(but somehow still ended up in each other arms in the morning). eventually, shadow couldn’t help but start to miss you. sure you guys still saw each other almost every second of the day, but it was different when he wasn’t able to hear your voice that he loves so dearly. so, after just one day, he’d throw in the towel and apologize. and really, all you wanted from him was an apology and some comfort, so you forgave him without hesitation, apologizing yourself too. which shadow immediately shot down and reassured you that it wasn’t your fault. after all, you’re you, and he loves everything about you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

that night, the two of you were facing away from each other while laying on your shared bed. the argument from yesterday still present in both of your heads.

with an inaudible sigh, you shut your eyes, trying your hardest to fall asleep, to not let the tears fall. you couldn’t help but think that it was your fault you two was in this predicament.

“…i’m sorry.”

your ears immediately perked.

“what?”

you could hear him let out the slightest “tch”, but you could tell it was only out of embarrassment.

shadow turned around to face you.

“i said…im sorry, i shouldn’t have snapped back at you.” shadow told you, even in the dark you could make out the red tint on his muzzle. it was cute seeing him embarrassed honestly.

“then i’m sorry too-”

but he immediately cut you off. no way was he going to let you apologize for something you couldn’t control.

“no, no, there’s no need for you to apologize…just-just let do the apologizing…please.”

the black hedgehog spoke out in slight mumbles, making eye contact for just a second before breaking it.

with a small smile on your face, you opened your arms a bit, the covers that’s over you two lifting up slightly.

without hesitation, shadow crawled into your arms, making himself comfortable as your arms wrapped around him, his head laying comfortably on your chest.

gently petting his quills, you sighed in content, you missed this.

“i love you.”

you heard from the hedgehog, making your smile grow wider.

“i love you too.”

┊𝐄𝐍𝐃

#shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog x reader #sonic #sonic post #fanfic #headcanon #YIPPIEEEEE #request #anonymous request #x reader #character x reader

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realtimefanduboutofcontext · 5 months ago

Note

I’m gonna need a clip of “count how many sand is here, omega”

Bonus points if you include “count how many mouths he has”

cinematic parallels: SnapCube's Real-Time Fandub, "Sonic the Hedgehog (2006)"

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vintageflowerangel · 1 year ago

Text

Poly! Relationship with CHUUYA NAKAHARA and PM! DAZAI OSAMU

♡ A relationship between the two is just pure chaotic... You have two boys fighting over you all the time, a hot head, and a suicidal boy. (Tug of war wow-)

♡ There's always back and forth arguments and bringing you in the middle of them just to see who's right or who's dumber than the other.

♡ Arcade dates are a must in the relationship. The three of you have a little bet that whoever loses the most has to pay for dinner, and it's either you and Chuuya who lose because Dazai always jacks up the games to win. If you lose, don't worry! Chuuya will offer to pay so you won't have to spend your money. (He'll threaten Dazai that he won't pay for his meal but still pays either way.)

♡ They're both really possessive over you. Sometimes, it can be overbearing, but they're just overprotective (it's mostly because they're jealous), not appreciating the way people glance at you out of interest or people talking to you like friends as an example.

♡ There is no serious fighting in the relationship. It's mostly for fun and games, but if anything serious happens, they'd comfort you or give you some space, whatever you prefer.

Date: 4/13/2024

#bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #headcanons #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuya nakahara x reader #dazai osamu x reader #pm! dazai osamu x reader #anonymous request #requested

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fuukasa · 2 months ago

Text

ootori emu in pink browline glasses

#ootori emu #request #anonymous request #a momentary reunion #prsk #card edit #glasses edit #not rui

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thatonesonicfanfictionwriter · 3 months ago

Note

I love all the stuff you wrote I just have to say agagagagaag!!!

—

Was wondering if you could do a Sonic x Singer/idol Reader?

What I’m imagining is Reader while performing actually in some way hides how they look on stage, so their in real life self doesn’t get swarmed! But…They’re friends with Sonic and the gang and they keep it secret from them? But when Amy maybe offers them all tickets to readers show reader has to do the whole- running one place to another before making an excuse to get on stage. But imagine Sonic notices the odd behaviour…

And imagine that after he’s now kinda trying to wonder why they’ve been acting off. So they end up spending more time together and getting closer and closer, mostly sonic probably hanging with them because oh idk…he thinks that reader might be a spy for some bad guy! But no they’re not.

Queue the classic they’re both having crushes but don’t want to admit it (mostly sonic) and it leads to them sort of not hanging out as much…but then reader one time decides that their next show they’re going to basically confess in their next song. To him. I imagine sonic “mysteriously” gains tickets XD. But while singing and stuff…reader reveals that it’s them but maybe they get nervous and end up running off stage and Sonic runs back stage to find them… and they both confessss???

—

Wow that’s a lot sorry! But agagaga i love your writing!

“The Ultimate Confession”

Pairing: Sonic the Hedgehog x Singer/Idol Reader

Requested: Yes (by a very sweet anon!)

Description: Keeping your double life a secret was very difficult. You know what else was more difficult? Keeping your crush on Sonic a secret until the right moment.

Notes: Thank you for all of your kind words, anon! And I’m sorry I took so long to get your request done! I hope this does it justice!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“[Name]! [Name]! Will you go to [Stage Name]’s performance with Shadow and I, pleeeease?” you hear your friend, Amy Rose, ask.

“C’mon, Amy, you know performances aren’t my thing…” you say, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Oh come on! Just once?!” Amy asks. “For your bestieeee?”

Amy gives you her signature puppy dog eyes.

“…Sorry, Amy. It’s still a ‘no’,” you tell her.

“Hmph! Fine! Then I’ll bring Sonic with me!” Amy states.

“Sorry Ames! I’m busy that day!” Sonic yells from across the room.

“Busy doing what?!” Amy asks. “And how did you know what day it was?!”

“Busy kicking Egghead’s butt! Duh!” Sonic states. “He always attacks on the weekends.”

“He has a point,” you state.

“Fine! I’ll invite Cream then,” Amy says with a small pout.

“C’mon, Amy, don’t be like that,” you say. “I’ll take you to the mall some other day as an apology if you want.”

“Okay! That works for me!” Amy says, her demeanor instantly changing.

You sigh internally out of relief. That was a close one…

Your phone buzzes out of the blue, and picking it up reveals that your boss is calling you.

“Ah, one sec guys. I gotta take a call,” you say.

You walk out of the room, closing the door behind you. Your friends watch you leave curiously.

“That’s odd, [Name] never gets calls,” Amy mentions.

“There’s a first time for everything, hun,” Rouge states. “Try not to dwell on it.”

About a week or so goes by, and you’ve been busier than ever. A lot of signings, having to make cameos at places, taking Amy to the mall like you promised, and not to mention having to make a costume for this next show.

But it’ll be worth it.

At least, you hope it’ll be worth it.

You see…you have a massive crush on Sonic.

You have no clue if he likes you back.

I mean, to him, you’re just one of his friends that helps him beat Eggman from time to time!

But to anyone that’s not your friend?

You’re an idol.

So…maybe you sent Sonic and your friends free tickets…

So what?

So what if you were busy at the studio getting ready all day and couldn’t see them?

It was fine by you!

You hear the murmurs of the people in the audience, luckily hearing Sonic’s voice in the audience.

Okay. Go through with the show, then reveal yourself and confess.

You’ve got this.

Putting on the final piece of your costume, you head off onto the stage, waving as everyone cheers.

You tap on the microphone, making sure it works.

“Hello everyone!” you say.

“HELLO, [STAGE NAME]!” everyone yells back.

“Now, before we start, I ask everyone to stay until the end for a special message!” you state. “Now let’s get on with the show!”

…

Well, for what it’s worth, the show went well.

But when it came to the confession…

Hoo, boy.

“Thank you for coming to the show, everyone! But before you leave, I have one last announcement,” you say. “It goes out to our hero of Mobius, Sonic, who I’m glad came tonight.”

You notice Sonic in the crowd, and he seems surprised as peoples’ gazes fall on him.

You remove your mask, and almost everyone in the audience gasps.

“I like you, Sonic. And I’m sorry I kept this a secret for so long,” you state.

The crowd goes quiet, which is a first for your shows, and you all of a sudden feel nervous.

“W-Well- Thanks for coming, haveagoodnightbye!” you rush out, running backstage.

Gaia, that was embarrassing! Why did you do that?!

“[Stage Name],” you hear one of your bodyguards say. “Someone requested to see you.”

Looking behind you, you see Sonic next to your bodyguard, a sheepish grin on his face as he waves at you.

“Request accepted,” you say.

The bodyguard bows and leaves, leaving you and Sonic backstage.

Neither of you say anything for a moment.

“…So, you like me, huh?” Sonic asks.

“…Yeah. I do,” you say.

“For what it’s worth, I like you too,” Sonic says.

“I- really?” you ask.

Sonic lets out a ‘snrk’, chuckling a bit.

“What’s so funny?” you ask.

“It’s just- Heh. Here we thought you could’ve been working for Eggy, and here you are, as one of our favorite idols,” Sonic says. “That and your reaction.”

You also let off a chuckle.

“You doofus…” you say fondly.

“Yeah, but I’m your doofus,” Sonic says.

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic fanfiction #sonic characters x reader #sonic character x reader #x reader #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #tosffw writes #requested oneshot #requested #anonymous request

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