#but i do find myself rather dull when coming face to face with the characters (specially ones like eva. aglaya. the 'childhood' trio. etc)

[lets-break-free-from-our-chains]

Forever and Always My Truest: Chapter 1

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the lovely comments for the prologue of this series. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. When writings this I really could stop imaging the reader with a haunting echo to her voice. Similar to the brides of Dracula in the Van Helsing 2004 movie, which I undyingly love. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After yet another night of restless sleep the reader finds herself wandered the manor until Walter comes looking for her. Safe to say that things escalate in more ways than one. From a lovers’ quarrel, to making up, and breakfast being served, there is no denying that there is never a dull moment in the Master and his eternal bride’s marriage.

Word Count: 1,800-ish

WARNING: SMUT!!! No vaginal penetration yet! Dry Humping, Angst, Fluff, blood sharing, arguing, obsessive/possessive behavior, Yandere-ish? Walter De Ville, possible Stockholm Syndrome?, forced marriage, abuse of power, Walter playing favorites w/reader as usual, sucks for the other brides, DOM/sub Dynamics, reader being a brat and Walter is not having it. Warning to be added. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING!

MINORS DNI!!!!

Disclaimers: I do not own The Invitation or any of the characters within the movie. You know what is and isn’t mine.

Walter de Ville x Wife!Reader

Chapter 1: Revelations Come to Light

~Current Day in 2022~

~(Y/N) P.O.V~

           Long ago there was a period in my life when I was a restless sleeper. I would wander the halls of my ancestor's grand castle. Even now over four and a half centuries later that has not changed as I now glide through the halls of the De Ville Manor whilst steering clear of the evenings’ sun lit areas. It never harmed me, but it didn’t mean it was any less agitating to my sensitive skin. Ordinarily, my restlessness would be quite vexing for me, however, that feeling couldn’t help but be trumped by the excitement of the fact that Walter and I’s anniversary party was just a week and a half away. It was sure to be grand in every way with my Lord Love sparing no expense for our cherished day. Allowing me free reign over the celebration as usual.

‘Nothing but the best for my truest.’ he had confidently stated to me one night as we lounged on a chaise in his study talking about the upcoming date. Though not much was said after that, as we had just devoured our dinner, and I was feeling in a playful and wanton mood. A mood my beloved Master was all too willing to indulge me in, if his sharp smile of adoration was anything to go by. Speaking of my Lord Love, he shall be rather displeased if he wakes in our tomb, and finds that I am not by his side. He insisted from our first night as newlyweds that he and I would share our sleeping place as any Lord husband and his Lady wife would. I was certain Victoria’s face would tear open from her burning ire, at hearing this information, knowing he never intended to share such things with her or any other brides for that matter.

I sighed wistfully and turned before letting out a haunting shriek. Walter stood there with sleep filled eyes and a raised brow. “My truest, what are you doing awake? You must have your rest!”

I leaned against the balcony railing as I gripped it in my left hand and placed my right hand over my permanently stilled heart.

“My love, you frightened me,” I exclaimed in breaths of haunting of exasperation. “You know I have never been one for restful sleep and with all the excitement to be had, I fear I am even more so restless, my Lord Love.”

His face settled into one of sympathy as he beckoned me to his side, never being able to remain agitated with me for long. I practically leapt from my spot and glided over to him without hesitation. My white negligée swept around my feet with my body movement, and he earnestly enveloped me into his arms as I hugged myself to his side and delicately caressed the side of his face and neck. He nuzzles and caresses my hair as his strong hands stroked my back before leaning back to look upon my face and speak, “Well, seeing as it is almost time to rise for the evening, why don’t I have breakfast brought to my study for us to eat?”

I gave out a haunting moan of frustration and lightly stomped my foot, “But Master, I been locked away in this manor for weeks!” He sighed as he goes to speak, but I interrupt him as my eyes light up in a glowing golden hue and I gasp out a brilliant idea, “Why do we not go out for a hunt together. You have always loved when you and I terrorize a few most unfortunate souls in the village!”

Despite his irritation already slightly spiked by my interruption and slight brattiness, Walter takes it in stride and seeks to placate me, “Because the wolves are growing more confident in coming closer to our territory and I would be absolutely devastated if a single hair on my cherished queen’s head was hurt.”

I only proceed to pout at my feet as he rubbed his hands up and down my arms waiting for me to look at him. Once I cast my gaze up to him through my lashes he leans in with a playful twinkle to his eyes and whispered against still pouting lips, “besides you always insist on playing with your food, my truest.”

I let out an indignant squeak of protest which only prompted a heartily chuckle and a sensational quick kiss to my lips from Walter. “But Master—”

“(Y/N)!” I immediately shrank under the sternness of Walter’s voice. I dared to look at him and my face morphed into a crestfallen look as he gazed unwaveringly at me. “DO NOT argue with me on this matter! It is currently not safe for you outside these walls and therefore you will not leave this castle until the problem is dealt with. I will hear NO MORE of this! Do you understand me?”

I gazed back at the floor as I backed away from him, my golden irises welled to the brim with fresh tears. “Yes Master, I understand.” My voice cracking against my will. At seeing my fragile state Walter gave a regretful sigh whilst closed his eyes. Upon hearing my small haunted weeping, always seeming to echo like screams in his ears, he looked upon me hugging myself.

“My truest…please, do not cry. I did not mean to scared you. Do not be frightened by me, my truest.” I hear him speak gently. I slowly look up at him and he gave me an imploring and loving look. Knowing my mind, after so many centuries together, he goes to speak once more, “I am not angry with you, my truest. I could never be angry with you.”

He held out his hand for me to take and I cautiously crept by to him as my weeping quieted but continued to give off a haunting echo. I had seen his true anger many times. It was never directed at me, but it was nevertheless absolutely terrifying. He really only ever yelled at Victoria and others in the walls and on rare occasions, he would yell at Lucy. He seemed to always have little to absolutely no patience with any of them. He never yelled at me though, which is why I would take the blame for most of the mistakes that Lucy made as they were few and far between. I had sneaking suspicion that he knew but allowed me to protect Lucy since I seemed to personally favor her. Nevertheless, he mostly only spoke with sternness to get his point across, when it came to me.

Once I was within reaching distance, he pulled me back into his arms and placed a loving kiss to my temple, “My perfect little wife. My beautiful queen.” He sweetly cooes me, as he sways us gently. Finally, my weeping stops completely, and Walter calls out for Renfield to whom responded promptly.

“Have the food brought to my study. My queen and I will break our fast in there tonight.”

Renfield swiftly nodded before giving a bow to us, “Right away, my Lord. My Lady.”

He left almost as quickly as he came, and Walter gently ushers me to his study. Once inside he guides me to the plush Victorian sofa and sits with me in his lap and begins to softly wipe the tear stains from my glowing cheeks. I look at him for a moment before shifting my seated position and straddling his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and play with his hair.

I rest my forehead against his, “I am so sorry, my Lord Love. I didn’t mean to upset you in the slightest.” Shaking my head vehemently, as he gives a smile and pushes my hair from my face to see me better.

“I know, my truest. I am sorry I lose my temper. I hate to see you cry, more than anything, especially when I am the cause for such a crime.” He kisses me sensationally and I melt into his body with a satisfied wanton moan. Our kissing quickly grows more passionate, and I feel my hips begin to move of their own accord. My warm bare heat slide over his growing hardness trapped within the confines of his trousers. Walter breaks our kissing with a groan as his head leans back. I felt a moan release from my mouth in what can only be described as pornographic as I feel his hands grip my hips move them faster while lifting his hips to press harder against my heat.

“You’re so beautiful!” He moans, whilst looking at me with a heated heavy-lidded look. I keep eye contact with him as I feel my climax closing in, and I can tell by his moans his is closing in too. “My Lord!” I sighed. I could feel it, it was so close.

“Cum, my truest. Cum for your Master.” One of his hands sliding up my torso to caress my breasts before traveling up to my neck to grip it firmly but not too tight. I felt my core explode with heat as he did this. As he lets go of my neck and my head falls into his neck as I ride out my ecstasy. Once I come down, I then notice he hasn’t felt his release and so my hips pick up the pace and I whimper at the overstimulation of my clit. He shushes me soothingly and I move my head to begin licking his neck.

Receiving the hint, he gives a euphoric smirk and gives me more access to his neck. I place several open mouth kisses along the slope of his neck before finding the perfect spot. I slowly bite down and begin sucking as his body give a jerk and he lets loose a loud cry of pleasure. He quickly reaches his climax and hugs me tighter to his body before moving some of my hair and swiftly biting down. I release a muffled moan as he began drinking and closed my eyes in bliss.

All good things must come to an end though because not long after there is a sharp knock on the door of the study. Walter growls at the nuisance as I unlatch from his neck, and he releases mine. I sit up and give him a playful smile, my fangs coated with his blood. My mischievous eyes gleam as he gives me a loving look despite his annoyance at the interruption.

“Our food is here, my Lord Love.” I breathlessly gasped out with a haunting echo of excitement. He chuckled, and lightly spanked my bottom, before responding.

“Yes, just remember to not play with your food, my truest.”

I stand up on wobbly legs as I say, “You’ve been saying that for over four and a half centuries! I do not understand why you think tonight will be the night I give up my entertainment.”

He jokingly rolls his eyes before pulling me into a passionate kiss and summoning Renfield in.

‘Now the fun really begins.”

[toomanybandstocare]

This one is the redo!!!

Can I request a romantic Harry Potter summer of fun? I'd really like to know who you ship me with please 🙈

Sending you oodles and oodles of love!!! 🩷

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ - Summer of Fun

Who I would ship you with plus a little drabble. @staygoldwriting requested a romantic pairing from the wizarding world, and I am so glad!! Thank you for celebrating with me, bestie <3

Pairing: George Weasley x GN! Reader

Genre: Fluff

Length: 721w + 254w

Counselor Notes: I am SO excited for autumn to come, and this got me in the mood. I've been thinking about starting to write for wizarding world characters, but I haven't made up my mind yet. I need to learn how to let myself enjoy writing different fandoms rather than sticking to just one until I feel burned out :/

-> Celebration Announcement Post <- -> Celebration Masterlist <-

Rain patters against your flat’s window panes. The kettle’s spout whistle grows in a crescendo against the soft record scratching in the background. Diagon Alley keeps quiet as its residents hide away from the summer thunderstorm in their homes. Still recovering from the war’s aftershock, the magical world seems to have made a silent agreement to take the fleeting moments of peace whenever possible.

Puttering across the living room, you wrap the lightweight blanket tighter when you reach the kitchen. With a flick of your wrist, you shut off the stove and move the kettle to one of the cooler burners before reaching up for a set of mugs.

Completely content with the sleepy haze that’s settled over the city, it isn’t until a gentle hand comes to rest on your hip that you realize George followed you. His warmth washes over you as his chest presses against your back when he reaches above to where your outstretched hand hovers over your favorite mugs. George ducks his head to press a soft kiss to your temple. His lips ghost over your skin before they rest on the shell of your ear. “What are you in the mood for, love?,” he hums.

Cheeks aflame, you grasp his wrist as he brings down your mugs. It’s as if his voice echoes inside you, and your heart calls out trying to find its way home as it hammers against your chest. Once both mugs sit on the counter, you pull his arm to wrap around your waist and lean against him. “Do we still have the French hot chocolate from Bill and Felur’s wedding gift?,” you softly ask. Tilting your head up, you chuckle as you watch George’s face scrunch up in thought. It had been so long since that night, and neither of you had the time to sit down to enjoy the goodies as the two of you went on mission for the Order.

“We should,” George slowly responds with a nod. Patting your waist, he slips away from you and steps over to the pantry cupboard. “Go back and bundle up on the sofa. This’ll only take a minute,” he encourages you as he peers out from the cupboard door with a soft smile.

Stretching your achy shoulders, a yawn escapes you as you nod. Without a single ounce of hesitation, you pad over to the sofa in just a few steps and sink into the well loved cushions. The fire’s crackle lulls you into a soft semi-consciousness. Its warmth envelopes you with comfort. Your ears twitch when George shuts the cupboard door. Another drawer rolls open then closed, and you hear him stir the cocoas. The faint aroma of his cologne and your favorite candle cause you to sink further into the sleepy state. After so much loss and challenge, never did you think that you would be able to share a life with your partner. One that brings you so much joy and fulfillment as the two of you navigate the new era of the magical world together.

A quiet laugh pulls you from your light doze. “Move over a bit. I promise you, the couch seats more than one person,” George teases you. Two dull thuds follow his words as you assume he places your drinks on the coffee table.

“In my defense,” you mumble as you open your arms out for him to join you, “you were working late, and I was a really good part in my novel. It’s not my fault you didn’t tell me you invited Angie and Fred over for dinner”.

Carefully settling himself to lay on your chest, George lets out a tired laugh. “Couldn’t have been that good of a book if you fell asleep reading it, love. But fair enough, I suppose,” he agrees. George wraps his arms around the small of your back and presses a lingering kiss onto your collarbone.

The two of you doze in and out of sleep as thunder rumbles in the distance. Occasionally mumbling to each other, you and George enjoy the comforting moment while you can. Legs tangling together and pulling the blanket with them. Hands gently caressing the other wherever they can steal a fleeting touch. Not a care in the world as the two of you slip away into your own.

As much as you keep your nose in your books or well loved baking recipes, your head is often in the clouds. Always the dreamer and hopeless romantic, you’re a person with a lot of love to share. However, you also tend to spread yourself too thin and forget to focus on your wellbeing.

Out of the infamous duo, George prides himself in being the mastermind behind the joke shop’s business. He busies himself in sketching out inventions or practicing the latest prank potion. George is a practical dreamer. He balances reality and inspiration in a way that only comes from his upbringing.

The two of you are very family oriented and home bodies. When the two of you finally have time to yourselves from busy schedules, it’s almost always spent cuddled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace with books and snacks, or visiting one of your families. 

George keeps you grounded without ever making you feel embarrassed about being a romanticist. He’s always eager to hear about where your head and heart are at, especially if something is weighing you down. He’s sensitive and quick on picking up when your moods shift, and the minute George feels as if something’s bothering you, he sits you down for a conversation. Even though he’s carefree the majority of the time, nothing is more important than an honest chat to get to the bottom of a situation. Especially when it regards your personal wellbeing and happiness, or that of your shared life together.

[honeybewrites]

OC Intro: Ronan "Rage" Airvix

I've been a little too excited to do this one. Rage is one of my favorite characters from EoWC so I hope you guys enjoy!!

Once again, because of my lack of drawing skills, I have used picrew for Rage's pictures. If you're curious, I used this one and this one.

Yes, you guys get two picrews this time. The second one is a lot closer to how he actually looks, but I also wanted a front facing one. It was surprisingly difficult to find picrews with beards and man buns.

Name: Ronan "Rage" Airvix

Mors Title: Field Handler and Certified Healer

Age: forty-six

Birthdate: (still working out the Realms calendars) July 17th

Pronouns: He/Him

Species: Namuh, Mirralian

Physical Description

Light tanned skin. His face is blemish free except for some slight wrinkles around his eyes. He has dark gray eyes and matching gray and white hair* that is long enough for him to pull back into a bun, which is how he usually wears his hair. He has a few various scars from his military days. He's a little tall for a Mirralian, coming in at 7'0 (213 cm). He works out regularly and has a decent amount of defined muscles. He's also very healthy when it comes to food. Being a Healer tends to do that.

*side note: the gray/white hair is not due to aging. Most namuh species have 'unnatural' hair and eye colors. This color ‘dulls’ with aging rather than losing color.

Skills/Abilities

Elemental, specifically healing, certified healer, Negotiator™, multiple languages, survival skills

Greatest Fear

Failing

Personality Type

ENFJ-A

Love Language

Physical touch

Typical Outfit

Mors certified suit, healer's uniform, or work out clothes

Method of Manipulation

Blackmailing and gaslighting

Born to the predominant Airvix family, Rage has spent most of his life exposed the Mirralian government and military. All of his family members hold high standing titles and the Airvix name is well known through the Realm. After graduation basic school, he went into healing, becoming a certified healer and joining the Mirralian military. After outstanding services, Rage was invited to join the Mors, which he accepted. He continues to be one of their top healers, so much so that he is assigned as a personal field handler and healer to a specialist. Asset 703.

Relationships

Gerd

Rage never dealt much with Gerd until getting assigned as 703’s handler and healer. Since Gerd is her main handler, Rage often has to defer to what he says, even if it puts 703 in more danger. The two butt heads constantly, almost always over 703. Each would be happy to see the other end up dead.

Healer Asurr

Rage and Asurr went to healing school together where they were roommates (no, not that kind of roommates. Asurr has no interest in that). The two were close friends until they drifted apart after graduation. Now with Asurr heading Project Viall for the Mors, they see each other more frequently, but their relationship is much different. Rage doesn’t fully agree with the Project, but tries his best to remain friendly and to avoid Project Viall as much as possible.

703

Assigned as her handler and healer, Rage was mostly curious about why she would get a personal healer. As he got to know her, that curiosity quickly turned to protectiveness and slight awe at how she operated. The best way to describe it: “I’ve only had 703 for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

If anyone wants to be added/subtracted to the tag list, you can comment or DM me :D

General Tag: @orions-quill @fractured-shield @anaisbebe @leahnardo-da-veggie @pluppsauthor

@wyked-ao3

[go1denoracle]

Twistober Day 3: Twisted tsumerland!

I lasted about 2 days of non-Ruggie posting into this challenge. I'm proud of myself!

Warning: One Yuusona is very important to the plot! If you don’t like oc x Canon, this probably won't be your cup of tea.

"Where the hell is that stupid plushie?!"

Ruggie ran through every nearby hallway for his tiny lookalike, but he couldn't find the plush anywhere. Even with his more sensitive hearing and smell, he couldn't locate the small plushie anywhere. The sneaky little thing was no where to be found.

When Ruggie had heard his tsum had been stealing people's lunches and disappearing, he hadn't thought much of it. He had assumed that the Ruggie-tsum had been stealing food for the Leona-tsum or just using its cute looks to its advantage to get itself a meal. Either way, it wasn’t his fault if people weren't paying attention to their food and the toy ended up swiping it. He was just annoyed people were coming to him about their grievances with the tsum. It wasn't like he could control the thing.

At least, that's what he thought before it stole his food.

The little plush couldn't have gone far, it was barely the size of a kitten. How fast could that thing possibly go? It was like it disappeared into thin air. Ruggie let out a chuckle of annoyance when he noticed the faint scent of dandelions and clean fabric. There it was!

He followed the dull scent down a hallway to an empty classroom. The tsum had to have gone this way at some point. He slammed open the door to find... Fang Yu sketching on a piece of paper. With no tsum in sight.

Ruggie was confused, "What?"

Fang looked up from her book and asked sweetly, "Do you need something?"

Ruggie sniffed the air again. The scent was still strong. It had to have been here sometime. Fang raised her eyebrow at him.

Ruggie finally asked, "Have you seen my tsum anywhere?"

There was a pause of silence. Ruggie knew Fang well enough to know the silence was out of character. If Fang did or didn't know, she usually responded immediately.

"Why are you looking for it?" Fang asked, breaking the silence.

"Well, the stupid plushie stole my lunch," Ruggie huffed while crossing his arms.

Fang gave him a look of surprise, "it stole your lunch?"

"Why else would I be looking for it? Normally, I don't care what it does."

Fang looked away sheepishly for a moment before reaching down. Ruggie looked at her confused until he heard the panicking squeaking noises as she placed the now alarmed tsum on the desk in front of her. The tsum still had his lunch, so Ruggie swiped it back. But the plush wasn't focused on him.

"I'm so sorry! But I have to make sure that the bigger Ruggie didn't starve too!" Fang tried to console the tiny tsum.

The tsum looked up at Fang, absolutely betrayed. Well, as betrayed as its tiny face could be. Ruggie ate his lunch as he watched Fang try and comfort the tiny creature. As he watched the distraught plush, a thought passed his mind.

"Have you been hiding that thing whenever it's been stealing food?" Ruggie blurted out.

Fang blushed out of embarrassment before answering, "Yeah... I have."

Fang continued in vain to comfort the little tsum to no success. Ruggie laughed at her unsuccessful attempts to make the tsum happy again. In Ruggie's opinion, the tsum looked more concerned with the fact that Fang sold it out rather than the fact that it lost a meal, but Fang didn't notice it.

"How about I make a batch of donuts for you? Would that make you happy again?" Fang compromised to the tsum tsum.

The tsum seemed unhappy but willing to accept the trade when Fang cheered and kissed it on the forehead. Ruggie felt a flash of annoyance as the tsum happily bounced in Fang's hands again. Fang handed Ruggie the happily tsum and started running towards the door.

"I'll come back with donuts, I promise!" Fang yelled as she ran out the door, presumably to make the donuts.

Ruggie looked at the door Fang left through, processing what had just happened. He begrudgingly brought the tsum back to Savanaclaw. The tsum seemingly felt his ire as the two made it back to Savanaclaw because it tried squirming out of his arms. Ruggie held on tight, though, keeping it in his grip until they made it back to his dorm room so he could let the tsum run wild there. He glared at the offending ball of felt the entire time.

About 2 hours later, Fang came into his room with a box of freshly baked donuts. Ruggie scowled at the plush as Fang handed it the box. However, Fang turned her head towards him and made a shushing motion before handing him a paper bag with some donuts while the tsum was distracted. Ruggie felt much better as he watched Fang giggle over the small plush.

"I'm so glad you're not mad at me anymore," Fang happily exclaimed as she watched the tsum eat the donuts.

"Thanks, Fang," Ruggie said as he hid his donuts from the plushie's view.

"You don't have to thank me!" Fang blushed as she waved him off.

Ruggie smirked internally. Take that you stupid piece of fluff, he thought. Fang giggled, clearly happy that the little creature appreciated her baking. Then she gave it another forehead kiss as she left to study. The tsum looked smugly at him while her back was turned.

Ruggie was going to chuck the thing out the f***ing window.

[whowantsnachos]

Strawberry Champagne

Pairing: Helmut Zemo x Original Fem!Character (or you can insert yourself if you want)

Summary: After Madripoor, Zemo thinks Lydia should stop drinking. This is the result. (set post episode 3 FATWS)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Lydia, my character, has like this fire magic thing that HYDRA implanted in her. She has a lot of scars because of all of the experiments and the injections, but she covered them all after she got out with different tattoos. Another thing, her hair does this thing where streaks of it will turn into like a brighter red / ginger than her regular hair color [kinda like Tonks is a good way to describe it] when her body temperature goes up. The language that is occasionally spoken is Serbian, but it’s supposed to be Sokovian, and I heard they were similar. Anyways, feedback and stuff is always accepted, given this is the first thing I wrote officially. Enjoy!

Lydia was sitting in bed, wearing an oversized Metallica hoodie with her knees close to her chest. Her dull, red hair was a mix of slightly messy and living hell. She thought about everything she had just witnessed in the past couple of hours with one arm wrapped around her legs and the other holding champagne. Lydia sat in the same position for about an hour or two, either thinking, spacing out or drinking. A sudden knock on her door made her jump in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” she heard Zemo ask on the other end.

“Um, yeah, sure,” she said quietly.

He opened the door and stepped inside. He raised his eyebrows in slight shock seeing her so distraught.

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m over the moon,” she said sarcastically.

“I apologize, I probably should have warned you ahead of time what we were getting into.”

“Yeah, you think? I can’t really blame you though, I should’ve expected all of that. I mean, it’s you, Sam, and Bucky, how could it have been any different? Anyway, it’s more my fault for agreeing to get into all of this shit again.”

“It’s not-”

“No, wait, that’s right! It's not my fault. It’s you three that dragged me back into this shitfest. Why am I blaming myself? I guess I agreed… regardless! Why am I the one to fix your guys’ messes, huh?”

“Ok, that’s enough champagne,” Zemo said as he grabbed the glass from her, sensing her getting mad.

“I wasn’t done with that yet,” she said sternly, reaching for the glass.

“Yes. You were.”

Lydia glared at him, and Zemo rolled his eyes out of annoyance, grabbing the champagne bottle from the side table next to her. He went into the bathroom and poured the rest of it into the sink.

“Why do you have to ruin my fun all of the time?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Zemo raised his eyebrow and said, “I’m not. I just think you would rather not have a hangover first thing in the morning.”

“How would you know? Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,” Lydia cockily stated.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you’re trustworthy now?”

Zemo gave her a death stare and Lydia looked down, realizing she might’ve hit a nerve.

“Sorry,” she murmured, playing with the edge of her sleeve.

Zemo softened his gaze a little and leaned on the doorway of the bathroom. He noticed the tattoos near her wrist, each one a different pattern or idea than the other.

“What are those for?”

Lydia quickly put her sleeve back down and said, “Nothing.”

Zemo titled his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her but shrugged it off.

“Where did you find that champagne?” he asked.

“Um, I may or may not have stolen it from that club...”

Zemo’s face lit up in amusement, and he asked, “You stole two thousand dollar champagne?”

“Possibly,” Lydia said with a smirk.

“Impressive.”

“I can be spectacular sometimes.”

Zemo laughed breathly but didn’t say anything. Lydia wanted to thank him for helping her out when the shooting broke out, but she didn’t know if now would be the appropriate time or not.

Well, it couldn't hurt.

“Um, I wanted to thank you. For helping me out back there. It really means a lot to me, I mean, I know that I’m not your favorite person in the world, but-”

“What gives you that impression?” Zemo asked.

“You’re kidding me, right? You’ve shut down half of the ideas I had about how we were going to execute Madripoor, and look where we ended up!”

“I knew it better than you did.”

“Apparently not! We could’ve died, Helmut.”

“If we would have done it your way, that fate would have been met sooner.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you,” Zemo responded.

Lydia cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. Raising her eyebrows at Zemo, she went into the bathroom to grab something from under the sink. Lydia also noticed that some streaks of her hair lit up, but she hoped that he hadn’t noticed.

“What are you doing?” Zemo asked.

She answered him by holding up another bottle of champagne with a strained smile on her face as she was walking out of the bathroom. As she was about to open the bottle, Zemo grabbed it and put it on the bathroom counter. Lydia gave him a mock pouty look, and he rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop drinking, I’m serious. You giving me that look isn’t helping you,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked as she emphasized her look.

“Lydia. I’m serious.”

Her ears burned at the way that he had said her name, and she could only pray that her hair hadn’t betrayed her now. 

“And,” Zemo continued, “For the record, I don’t hate you or anything like that. To be honest, you’re the only one I can stand out of the ones I’ve met.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow slightly, and he quickly added, “Not that you’re the best of the worst, it’s just, how should I put this… I guess it’s more around the lines of ‘you’re smart and they’re not.’”

“Wow, harsh,” Lydia said with an amused look on her face.

“Well, it’s true,” Zemo said with a smirk on his face. 

“Well, if I’m so smart, then that means… my plan was the best.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

Lydia rolled her eyes playfully at him and walked back into the bathroom, but Zemo stopped her by closing the door halfway.

“Lydia,” he said with a warning tone.

Now, Lydia could see her hair quickly turn into a brighter red color, and she cursed herself in her head silently, hoping he didn’t notice, but she wouldn’t bet on it.

“Does your hair always do that?”

God damn it.

“Do what?”

“Change color like that when your name is said.”

“Um, no. Not to my knowledge, no,” 

Zemo narrowed her eyes at her while his attention seemed to turn to her hair. Lydia felt slightly embarrassed by his staring, but this only led to it turning brighter again. He smiled a little and said, “It’s a nice color; it suits you.”

She could feel her face burning mainly out of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t describe. Lydia jumped a little when she felt Zemo touch her arm. She felt her skin burn up, and he said, “I apologize, but I recognize this one.”

Zemo went to touch her arm again, but before he did, he asked, “May I?”

Lydia nodded, and he lifted her sleeve, intently scanning the dragon on her forearm. He carefully traced the outline of it, and Lydia felt her skin heat up with each trail he left. The way that he was looking at her tattoo sent shivers down her spine, but surprisingly, it was a nice feeling, considering she hasn’t felt anything cool in a long time.

“Змај,” (“Zmaj,”) Zemo whispered.

“What?”

“Змаj, correct?”

Lydia nodded, and Zemo hummed, “Yeah, I remember that story. My parents used to tell me that all the time.”

“My parents weren’t into the whole legend thing, they always said it was just a bunch of lies people tell to poison our minds, but I have heard it a few select times.”

“Your parents were quite the people, huh?” He laughed.

She laughed with him and said, “Yeah, they were definitely something, alright.”

“Well,” Zemo started as his hand traced bits and pieces of her tattoos before stopping at the palm of her hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with hers. “They raised well.”

Damn you.

She felt her skin heating up with every second, but she tried to contain it as much as she could. She looked over at the bathroom mirror that was mostly covered by the door, but she could see that dozens of streaks of her hair were lit up bright orange like crazy. He glanced back at her hair, and his smirk grew.

“Does it usually change when people touch you as well?”

“A-again, not to my knowledge, no.”

Zemo hummed again and began tracing the tattoos on her other arm before grabbing her other hand and running his thumb over her wrist. He carefully moved his hands up her forearms, tracing the shapes of her tattoos more fully this time, while pulling her closer to him. Lydia’s heart picked up even faster, not that she knew how that was possible. To her, it felt like they’d been spending an eternity standing in the doorway, but at the same time, it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Lydia?”

She took a breath in, and looked up at him, asking, “Yeah?”

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized how close they were to each other. Zemo’s breath lightly fanned her face, and his hands let go of her arms, slowly wrapping them around her waist instead. Lydia swallowed discreetly from his stare, and Zemo tilted his head to the left slightly and smirked at her.

“Do I make you nervous?”

“N-no, why would you? I could beat your ass into next year if I wanted to, what would I have to be nervous about?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I’m sure your hair doesn’t light up around other people every time you stand next to them, or they talk to you.”

He pulled her closer and leaned his head down just enough so that he was only inches away from her face. 

“Unless… it’s something else that makes your hair light up whenever I'm around.”

After he said that, he backed up a little and looked at her hair. Several streaks of it were brightening up, lightly illuminating the aura around her head. He smiled and laughed lightly through his nose.

“If I remember correctly, ‘Miss Vesta’s abilities cause her physical appearance to change as well. Her hair will change into different shades if she has any sort of strong emotions, including, but not limited to: anger, stress, sadness, and attraction.’ Does that sound right?”

Lydia squinted at him in confusion, and Zemo chuckled, saying, “SHIELD’s not very good at hiding things like they think they are.”

Lydia sighed and looked to her right and then down at her feet.

“So, again, I must ask,” he started. “Lydia…”

He removed one hand from her waist and lifted her chin up to meet his gaze.

“Do I make you nervous?”

Lydia licked her lips and said, “...no.”

Zemo leaned in closer, guiding her face to his slowly. He stopped centimeters before her face, just like before, and she could smell his expensive cologne radiating off of him.

“Are you sure? Your skin is burning.”

‘Копиле.’ (‘Bastard.’)

“Maybe I shouldn’t-“

“Ох, забога.” (“Oh, for God’s sake.”)

Lydia put her hand in the back of his neck, pulled him down, and their lips met. Zemo’s grip on her waist tightened, and moved his hand from her chin to the side of her face, the extreme heat of her skin slightly burning his hand. He furrowed his brow and backed her up onto the doorway, allowing him to close any distance between them. The smell of strawberry champagne intoxicated his senses, and he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Lydia could feel every part of her body start on fire, whether she knew that’s what was actually happening to her or not. Her heart felt like it skipped ten beats at once, and heat filled her chest. She felt magnetized to him, and every break for a quick breath of air filled her with a sense of longing for more. Lydia thought her knees were going to collapse from underneath her, and she was grateful for the doorway behind her. She felt ripples of chills go up her spine for the second time that day, and the sensation of his thumb grazing her cheek only made it harsher. She felt her fingers become white hot, and she quickly retracted her hand to his shoulder, not wanting to burn him. She felt every bone and muscle in her body become the same temperature, and she felt the texture of the material of his shirt change. She removed his hand from her cheek and pulled away from him, catching her breath.

“I-I’m sorry. My skin… I can’t-”

Zemo shrugged and said, “To be honest, I never liked this shirt anyways.”

“No, you don’t understand, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Zemo tilted his head and raised his eyebrows quickly. He looked down and put his hands in his pockets, taking out the pair of gloves he was wearing earlier that day and putting them on. After he did that, he put his hands up and smiled at her.

Lydia lightly laughed and said, “I appreciate the gesture, but that’s not gonna do you much good. I’ll just burn-”

Zemo cut her off by saying, “I’ll take that chance.”

He kissed her gently, not wanting to make her skin burn back up again.

A sudden knock at her door caused Lydia to jump and separate from him, turning her head towards her door.

“Lydia? We need to discuss the plan for tomorrow. Have you seen Zemo anywhere?” Bucky asked through her door.

Lydia turned back towards him with a devilish look on her face. She whispered, “Play along,” and quickly pushed him away from her, a glare forming on her face.

“Yeah, he’s trying to steal my champagne.”

Bucky opened the door to the pair glaring at each other with murderous intent.

“You mean, I’m trying to take away the champagne that you stole from the club,” Zemo quickly countered, getting the message.

“Well, it’s mine now, isn’t it?”

“Alright! Look, she can keep the champagne, it doesn’t matter,” Bucky said.

“James, that was worth probably around two thou-“

“I don’t care,” Bucky said while giving Zemo a death stare before continuing. “We don’t have time for this anyway. We have to figure out the plan for tomorrow, come on.”

He left the room, and Lydia turned towards Zemo, raised her eyebrows, and dramatically put her hand out. He rolled his eyes and took the champagne bottle off of the counter and gave it to her.

“You’re only getting this because he likes you more than me.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Lydia retorted.

Zemo gave her an annoyed look as she laughed, and they both walked out of the room.

[t-and-her-books]

Harvest by Manjula Padmanabhan

“I’ll die knowing that you, who only live to win, will have lost to a poor, weak and helpless woman.”

Rating: 5/10 Summary: Harvest is a futuristic dystopian play by Manjula Padmanabhan about organ-selling in India. It was first published in 1997 by Kali for Women. The play takes place in a future Bombay in 2010. Om Prakash, a jobless Indian, agrees to sell unspecified organs through InterPlanta Services, Inc. to a rich person in a exchange of small fortune.

Thoughts:

Harvest was honestly an interesting read. I find myself not necessarily enjoying written versions of play a lot of the times because they are mostly dialogue. Making it quite dull to read in comparison to seeing the actual play in person. Harvest has an almost opposite problem though, the story moves fast with vulgar language. It's disorienting and confusing but at the same time everything happens just as I thought it would realistically but not what I thought would actually happen.

I'll talk more about this in the character analysis. But when it comes to the storylines, it is so realistically raw that I can't help but feel shocked when things happen just as I thought it would. A lot of the times I keep thinking to myself, "Okay this is what I think will happen, but there's no way she'll write that? Right? Because to write that is to destroy the character, to make them stop being likeable."

But that was the true essence of the characters in the play. Not a single one of them is purely likeable. All of them have a reason to be hated, some more than others. Barely any of them, except Jeetu at the very end gets a 'good' ending. This is what makes this book so interesting.

The first thing that drew me in was the sci-fi almost cyberpunk nature of the themes. But unlike most cyberpunk-esque stories that focus more on adventure, action, and the theatrics of it all. Harvest focused on the humanity and realistic aspect of it. Which I will touch more when I talk about Ma's character.

This is what makes Harvest interesting but also quite difficult for me to read. I came in rather expecting something grotesque and cyberpunk-y but came out with more confusion and disoriented feelings than anything.

The characters all feel so natural to the point where they are unlikeable. The story at parts feel rushed but at some parts feel almost too 'loud' which most likely is due to the format it is presented in. It's difficult to translate plays into writing and make it read like a book without taking some creative liberties (and vice versa), so dialogue, actions, and character arcs can feel forced/difficult/disorienting to follow.

Though one big part of it that I absolutely loved was the fact that the book ended midway and then the same thing is duplicated but the genders are all switched. It's interesting to see how my own perception of these characters changed by the slight change of their gender. (Which will be touched more on in the character analysis)

Overall, Harvest was an interesting read and kept me on my toes but I would definitely not read it again. I can recommend it to people who want to see the rawness of ethics discussion in a dystopian future.

~

Character analysis

Om Prakash

At the start of the story, Om can be seen as a somewhat normal poor Indian man who is just trying everything he can do to keep peace in his home and provide for his wife and mother. Though as the story progresses, he can be seen as both a brave figure and a cowardly figure.

Brave in the face of defending his decisions, such as the first time he was defending why he needed to join InterPlanta to Jaya. But cowardly in the face of his mother who wouldn't stop pestering Jaya over and over again on how she isn't a good match for Om.

Though Om feels real in the way that fictional characters feel real, he doesn't truly become authentic until the second-half of the book when InterPlanta comes to take him and afterwards takes Jeetu instead.

In this moment, where Om turns from someone who strongly believes in his decision into someone who is scared and begging to be spared, he truly becomes real.

Fictional characters are likeable because they represent a much more exaggerated version of us. Horror main characters call out for their mom any time they hear a loud clanging downstairs, when in reality any sane and normal person would've frozen or tried their best to ignore it. Same with the mc in a YA novel who believes the stranger who tells them, they are the chosen one and then fights for the freedom of an oppressed nation, when in reality if you were to be jumped in the middle of the street and be called the chosen one..... You'd probably put on your earphones and start running.

Om, at the start, shows an exaggerated version of human nature. He's likeable in that way because he's relatable in the sense that he wants to support his family no matter what, but in a way that's not gross or disgusting. Though the moment he starts crying and begging for his life, but then turn to actually wishes he was the one to be taken away, we finally see the true humanity of him.

We see the cracks in his character that can't be solved or given a redemption arc because his end is that of a gruesome one. It's something all too real in our daily lives. This theme is present in all (except Jaya and Ginni/Vergil) of the characters in Harvest.

They start of as your typical well-written likeable/unlikeable characters but then flesh out to these all too real humans. It's disturbing and punches you in the face. But it's something interesting and different.

With Om this comes more as a surprise, especially when he regrets looking much more sickly than Jeetu which ends up saving his own life but sacrificing Jeetu's. In this moment, he regrets his life. He wants to be taken by Ginni, it's disturbing and feels out of character, but in that part of the story, everyone except Jaya has gone mad.

(Quick rant)

(Which, to be completely honest, as a Theatre student myself, is something SO common in these out of the box plays. It's almost annoying. It's like everyone wants to think out of the box and talk about the human nature and the worst parts of it when like, every classical theatre practitioner has done that. Why can't you create something ACTUALLY out of the ordinary in Theatre and create something fun and jolly. Not everything has to cause internal crisis and intellectual discussions. What happened to mindless fun entertainment?????)

(Rant end, continuing with character analysis)

Jaya

Jaya's character is interesting in more ways than one to me. Firstly, she's not a good person.

Like previously mentioned, no one in this story is a good person. There is objectively no good guy in this story. Only who can be the worse person/villain. Despite that, she is still the protagonist, which makes Vergil/Ginni the antagonist.

But Jaya is interesting in a different way than Om because first and foremost she's a hypocrite that somehow defies everyone's expectations of her. At first, we as the readers were given the impression that she is a victim under poverty and the unfair treatment by her mother in law. Only to find out later not long in the story that the unfair treatment, though Ma doesn't know it, was definitely warranted, as Jaya has been cheating on Om with Jeetu.

This is the first time we see her change the audience's perception of her. Her love for Jeetu is actually interesting because it is her love for him that was supposed to be for Om that ends up costing Jeetu his life.

Instead of caring for Om after he despairs over the reality that he will soon die, she decides to care for a dying Jeetu. In the end, Jeetu is healthier than Om causing the Interplanta guards to think Jeetu is who they were looking for. Had Jaya paid attention to anyone other than herself and Jeetu, she could've saved his life.

That's another interesting thing, Jaya throughout the story seems to be the sanest person there. Her acts shows her care towards almost everyone in the family. But in my opinion, I think her actions are selfish, she cares only for herself and Jeetu. Had she cared for anyone else or she had been less selfish, she would've cared for Om instead of Jeetu. Or the two of them.

Though it is through her that we, the audience, still gets a proper ending.

Jeetu

I know I called Jaya a hypocrite but I don't think anyone's more of a hypocrite than Jeetu. Which is unfortunate because I thought he'd be the symbol of hope and freedom in a post-apocalyptic world. But Manjula Padmanabhan's choice of his end just shows even the most idealistic and rebellious of people when pushed to his utmost limit will do what he first stands against to do.

This way I think Manjula Padmanabhan is trying to show people's own hypocritical ideals. People tend to preach their beliefs and go against the flow up until they taste a whiff of death. The moment they know death is coming they rush back to where they find comfort in. It's not a bad thing. I think it just makes them all too human.

We all want to live. Dying doesn't change anything for us and somewhere in our subconscious we know that. Jeetu is supposed to symbolise that. But Jeetu is what happens on the other side of it. He wants to live in the end, though not only live, he wants to thrive. He's had a taste of what death feels like and to him nothing is worth that. Instead of fighting even harder, working even harder, and making sure he never gets there. He's gives up and decides he wants to thrive the easy way.

In the story he is selfish, he refuses to come home until he's on his deathbed and after that he takes his brother's place. But in the greater scheme of things, if there were people like Jeetu in the real life, I wouldn't fault them. It's not our decision to force people like Jeetu to continue fighting, though I would call them cowardice for giving up after putting such a valiant effort in fighting for what they deem was right.

Vergil/Ginny

I don't have much thoughts about Vergil/Ginny, I just think they're a necessary evil in the story. Unlike Jeetu or Jaya or Om, they feel the most unrealistic and dramatised. Which in theatre, is very much needed, though I think if Manjula Padmanabhan bit the bullet and fully made all her characters as realistically terrible as Jeetu or Jaya or Om, Harvest would be much more popular.

I think that's why Vergil/Ginny feels almost out of place in the story. They and Ma feels too comic to be in such a raw and realistic piece of theatre. Despite that, the character of Vergil/Ginny is very much needed in this story. If it was just a story about the family I don't think the message would come across as strongly as it did.

Yet, I can't help but wonder if Vergil/Ginny didn't exist, would Jaya still have her protagonist moment at the end of the story? Because that end does feel as dramatised as their character.

Anyways, one thing that I think is interesting to think about is whether or not Vergil/Ginny thinks their actions was right or not. I'm not quite sure if that part is clear in the play, because they seem to understand what they are doing but not the degree of the effects of their actions.

Ma

I don't have much to say about Ma I'm not going to lie. She's almost a comedic relief in the story. Interesting but only for a little while, unlike Jeetu and Om, her descent to madness was clearer and predictable.

It was less interesting and climactic too. Which I think was necessary in the Manjula's eyes. Though I can't help but feel she's a wasted character. Her only job in the story feels like to irritate Jaya and to show the destruction of technology on the human psyche. But if that was the case I don't think it was explored very well.

Manjula Padmanabhan's writing feels like it's trying to focus on too many aspects in such a short and absurdist play that it pulls attention away from the main issue which is corporations practically enslaving the those in poverty. I feel like it should've either been explored further or left out completely.

It makes the issue feel funny/comedic instead of the seriousness it should be treated with.

[theharpermovieblog]

#HARPERSMOVIECOLLECTION

2023

MOVIES I HATE

I watched Rambo: Last Blood (2019)

As far as Rambo movies go, I like the first one and that's it, so I'm not overly excited to sit through this.

John Rambo seeks revenge against a Mexican human trafficking ring.

The original First Blood film, which is the first John Rambo movie, is an action film about a broken veteran being pushed beyond his limit and waging a war against the cops who pushed him. It's a good movie and it gave us a character with depth and purpose. Every Rambo film from there on out was about nothing but a well trained guy murdering a bunch of people with lots of bullets and big knives. Low brow stuff.

This time around it seems some producer had the grand idea, "What if Instead of Liam Nelson in Taken, it was Rambo?!" And off we go to the land of mediocre old man action movies.

Director Adrian Grunberg seems to view Mexico as a corrupt trash heap, full of dirty evil men. Another film I've seen by him, Get The Gringo, starring Mel Gibson imagines Mexico as a place full of gang members and evil general-esque crime lords. This movie is really no different. The only "good" people in mexico are some of the women of course. Especially the pretty ones. Lucky for those women, there is a badass white guy with a heart of gold to save them from all the evil of their home country. It'd be possibly even forgivable had this been a part of one of Grunberg's films, but the fact that the evils and dangers of Mexico are the full plots of two of his films is incredibly suspect. Especially in an era where people who come from Latin America are demonized on the political stage.

Mexico and many foreign countries are easy to sell as lawless wastelands in films like this, because their audience of Fox News Americans buys into this shit. But, I'll get off my soapbox and talk about the film itself.

I was surprised when this film opened up and I saw some very pretty shots of wide open country and a nice ranch. I thought for a second this movie was going to look good throughout. I got the sense that maybe this movie would examine Rambo in his later years, dealing with a life of hardship and facing new limitations when danger comes to meet him. Sadly, those shots and that imagined story arc were me lying to myself. The camera work and style quickly turns to the typical mid-budget action look. There's a driving scene with such bad green screen that I was actually shocked by it. The writing cares nothing for the character. If you told me this was an already written script that they just plugged Rambo into to sell more tickets, I'd believe you without hesitation. It's very by the numbers and it can be so generic that it can become rather tedious. The dullness of this script is so miserable to sit through. The attempts at emotional connection are as dead as Rambo's niece. Yes, she dies. Do we care? No. Are you upset that I told you? I don't give a shit.

Let's just move on to what I suppose this movie was made for, the violence and action.

The action in this film is fine, I guess. It's definitely violent, but we don't really feel the glory of revenge these movies usually pay off with. By the time the real war broke out, I didn't care enough, I just wanted it to be over.

We find ourselves in these winding underground tunnels that Rambo has built over the years. Guys get caught in traps, Rambo is always in the right place at the right time to finish them off.

This has the feeling of the diminishing returns of other cheap sequels. Like watching the worst of the Death Wish series.

Solidly a movie I hate because of its mediocrity, awful use of a character, cheap use of Mexico as a land of bad guys and just the sheer waste of time and resources that went into making it.

[james-a-million]

ღWelcomeღ

★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★

This is a James McAvoy (characters) Roleplay Blog! I will only write as his characters not the actor himself. I am too uncomfortable to portray a real life person. So please don't ask me to because I won't.

PLEASE ONLY 18+ I DONT WISH TO INTERACT WITH MINORS. SINCE, I, MYSELF AM AN ADULT.

★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★

Rules

☆I have a life outside, so please try not to rush. Obviously, if I disappear for a few days you can message me. But please don't spam me every day or hour. I try to at least reply once a day OR I reply a few times. Depending on what's going on.

☆I am a Semi-lit writer. I expect at least two paragraphs in each response. I find one-liners rather boring. Also, please have decent grammar. If English isn't your first language I completely understand. Or if you have trouble with spelling in general. Just try your best ❤️

☆This blog is completely OC FRIENDLY. I welcome Oc's of all kinds. Male, Female, and everything in between. HOWEVER, I require a backstory, Face Claim(has to be IRL), and be sure to describe how their relationship with the character I portray is. It's hard for me to connect to an OC if I don't have any details about them or know what they look like. *ALSO-No over the top rude or perfect OCs. If your character is constantly rude and very very mean for no reason to who I am portraying. It starts to be a chore to respond. It very uncomfortable and makes it difficult to stay interesting in writing. It's fine if they aren't always super nice. But just don't over do it please. When I say perfect OCs. I mean, they are amazing at everything, OP, know everything my character is about to say or do. It is very dull and not interesting at all.

☆Age Gaps are welcomed. HOWEVER, it CAN'T be a character that is under 18. So please no underage ships. Because EW!

☆Please no EXTREME self harm or violence. I am perfectly fine with some, but it can be triggering if it gets too dark. I will respect whatever triggers you have too! Just let me know please!

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**I hope none of this sounds too harsh. I just have some standards. I'm super open to learning yours as well! I am pretty laidback and friendly! So please don't be afraid to message!

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MY CHARACTER LIST

☆Wanted - Wesley Gibson

☆Filth - Bruce Robertson

☆IT Chapter 2 - Bill Denbrough

☆X-Men - Charles Xavier

☆Bright Young Things - Simon Balcairn

//More To Come!

[cherrymoonxx]

hi! if you're still doing the muse ask game, i'd like to join.

i'm a little insecure about myself so i hope this can boost my confidence, even if it's for a while! for my hobby, i like to collect things, like figures or books, for my room. idk it brings character to it and i just like it.

i also really like playing games! my favourite series will always be the zelda games though.

thank youu for the ask game! - s.k🫐

Hi there S.K! Oooo what kind of figures do you collect? and what kind of books do you like? I have several funko pops on my bookshelf so I definitely agree that it adds character to the room!

Alrighty, let’s get to your reading!

So right off the bat, when connecting to your energy, I got that feeling of wanting to escape. I saw a glimpse of someone lying on their bed, while in the middle of journaling, just daydreaming and wishing things were different. I’m getting very fantastical vibes. Like the fantasy genre as a whole. You remind me of a protagonist that dreads how dull their life is and wishes for a change, which is granted when they find themselves accidentally getting warped into a completely different world.

As for your muse scenario, I’m seeing that your artist will be a writer. I think they would be a science fiction/fantasy/romance writer. Because of the genre they write, they are always looking for inspiration for their stories. They’re well traveled and like to learn about different cultures. This knowledge and open mindedness shines through in their writing. I think they may be a published author already. I’m seeing that while they like to travel a lot, they also like to have a routine when writing, so they’ll go to like a local coffee shop or the park and spend time writing. For the purpose of this scenario, let’s say they have a cozy little coffee shop they frequent. They’re a regular there so the employees know them quite well. They’re even quite fond of your artist because of their bubbly/ open personality.

So one day, they go to the coffee shop to get some writing done. They set up their little work station at their favorite table and then get up to go order a drink. They’re half expecting a quick exchange, in which they can just say “hey, the usual please,” but to their surprise, they see a completely new face. And there you are standing over the register, greeting them with a soft smile. It’s your first official day after your training period, so you’re a bit nervous. They’re taken aback for a second because they’ve gotten so used to the staff there but they recover quickly and kindly place their order. I actually think this first exchange was rather uneventful. Neither of you really think much about it. Things for the two of you happen gradually. Your artist makes it a habit to come into the shop regularly so you guys do see each other often. You find yourself being intrigued by them and muster up the courage to ask them about their work because you see them typing away every time they come in. They happily tell you that they’re an author working on their next novel but can’t figure out their characters quite yet. You guys make small talk like this every time they come and eventually you guys start to notice little things about each other. You find yourself looking forward to work and being able to see them. They start to steal little glances at you while you work. And they’ll notice how sweet your smile looks when you great customers.

I think they would eventually model their protagonist after you but I think there’s a specific moment that triggers this. Like maybe one day you have to deal with a particularly rude customer with a nasty attitude. While you remain professional when talking with them, your tone shifts dramatically. You went from this sunny aura to a completely cold and almost scary persona. You stood your ground and eventually the manager comes and has the person leave the shop. I think your artist notices this duality and is so entranced by it. They are inspired by your ability to remain cool in this kind of situation that they finally know who their protagonist is. It’s literally that meme that’s like “looks like a cinnamon roll but can actually kill you.” So that’s how that starts lol.

Oooo and I’m seeing that they’ll write and kinda start falling in love with you as they write. Because they model their protagonist after you, they find themselves silently observing you a bit more. And as this happens, they feel themselves being more and more attracted to you. They notice a lot of things about you that no one seems to notice. They’d find themselves actually talking to you more as well. They’d convince themselves they were only talking to you for “research purposes,” but in reality, they just liked talking to you. They liked a lot of things about you.

And maybe you think everyone overlooks you so you often feel unseen and invisible. But your artist, will see you. They’d pay attention to you and actually listen when you speak. They genuinely want to know more about you and they find you so fascinating. You’re funny, in a way that not many people are clever enough to understand your witty jokes. You’re kind, maybe even a little too kind at times. But you’re only this way because you know what it’s like to feel rejected/ignored so you try your best to treat everyone with the kindness you wish more people have you. They see how incredible you are and can’t comprehend how people ever overlooked you. They see you as a gem hidden in plain sight. In their book, you are depicted as a strong but humble protagonist. Witty and exceptionally clever. The first draft might actually need a lot of work because they depict the protagonist a little too perfectly. But it’s just that they see you so lovingly that even your flaws are written from a place of love rather than from spite or criticism.

Okie dokie, that’s all I’m seeing for you! I hope you enjoyed this reading!

Thank you for participating and also thank you for your patience!

Take care 💞

[randomositycat]

Artist/animator brain telling me to pick apart each episode for subtle differences in comparison to the show as a whole

What seems like it could be on model and what feels like it was pushing boundaries to developing a semi-new style for the anime

Rant under cut bc hi I do this a lot in my head,, and I could go through each episode and pick them apart but I've got e 17 on the brain so we'll stick with that for now and maybe I'll check out the older ones later

I only bring it up now bc,, well I didn't want to before

In e 17 (since it's the one freshest in my brain) the art differences I notice are purely in the chibi style, and minorly in the closer shots of characters

This shot specifically feels like it belongs to a different show! But still suuper super cute all the same!

And we go back to something more fitting with the other similar style shots from previous episodes! Not to say that it's all and all the same style every time, but again the differences are subtle and you have to look very closely to even say "huh, that's a bit different!"

I also noticed that usually they don't skip out of drawing fingernails? which sure most animes dont but it feels different here? If that makes sense,,

They really upped their detail game compared to other episodes! all the little things that pain me to even think about doing as an animator! The work put into some of these shots is super impressive! They even shaded the fake mole?? Come on!! The idea of doing what they've down with these shots makes me tired,, kudos to the artists for having the nerve

The fingernails stand out the most to me bc there is so much detail in them!

From the cuticle to the beautiful lighting and shading when she was applying make up to his face (I don't have a gift sorryyy 😣)

And we already know the eyes are beautiful, but my favorite attention to detail is Jinshi's eyes. Maomao never fails to comment on his beauty, and artistically it shows as much, emphasizing it to no end really, but he's so subtly feminine that I find myself studying his eyes quite a bit! His long eyelashes really draw you in...

You can see they dulled it down a little, for his Jinka disguise, but even then he's got such gentle eyes that could easily be mistaken for a woman's if he were to hide his face :) (looking at you Hunting arc, missed a chance! I'll tell you!)

Maomao's expressions in this episode really take the cake too LOL

There's no shortage of good maomao faces, especially not here >:)

As each new episode releases I'm just soooo enamored with how steady the improvement is! Artists finding their rhythm with the characters and sprinkling little things here and there that can go unnoticed but definitely enhance a shot! It's amazing!

And it brings me to talk about e4 which yes I agree is gorgeous animated, but im someone who prefers consistency rather than quality in my animated shows

(quality is good yes but to go from very fluid to standard fluid is jarring to say in the least)

I adore the fluidity in e4, obsessed with it. I was under the impression that an entirely different director + team was in charge (I wasn't wrong abt the director)

My favorite bits have to be the expressions,

And how each movement feels less like a show and more like a movie, like we got a spontaneous budget increase for this episode alone!

Lip syncing too, REALLY on point! I love angry Maomao and I'm a sucker for lip syncing any time!! When she was scolding Lihua's lady in waiting, the animators really hit every keyframe on the nose! (generally makes e4 dub a bit of a hassle for me to watch) I rewatch the sequence again and again because of how well done it is :) a spectacular moment indeed

Another episode with really fluid moments is episode 10, I think 🤔 when she confronts Lady Lishu about Fengming. The entire scene is wonderfully done, with Lishu's expressions and her ladies-in-waiting being excited to talk to Jinshi :) all things I gladly pay attention to

All in all the show has a gorgeous art direction 😊 I hope they continue to enhance it little by little with subtle things like everything i mentioned above

Makes an artist's heart flutter thinking about the dedication and care put into its production

[consciouschunkofmoss]

the more i play pathologic I the more i start to notice how many weird choices were made on the remake lmao

[itsdanii]

Hello. I loved the rejecting then regretting it scenario with Sakusa and Tsukki. 💞💞 Would you be open to doing one with Inarizaki boys as well? If it's too much, Atsumu would do because I think he is the one most likely to have this happen. Angst to fluff, please. 👉👈 Thank you!

Rejecting you and Regretting it pt. 2

a/n: hey, bub. as much as i wanted to input all inarizaki boys, i only take 1-2 characters per request. the reason for this is for me to avoid being repetitive with the scenes. i hope you understand. that being said, here's your request for the part 2 with atsumu. this was supposed to be short but i kind of got carried away with this, 'm sorry😭

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: cursing, rude behavior (resolved), please do remind me if i missed anything else

ft. atsumu miya

Atsumu Miya

You met Atsumu during your first year

It was exactly the first day when you bumped into him on the hallways and ended up being in the same class

From there on, the both of you formed a good friendship since you have the same tastes in things

Along the way, you managed to fall for him

It wasn't impossible to fall for him after all

He was fun to be with, that it felt as if there were no dull moments when you're with him

But you were afraid of confessing to him because you didn't want to ruin your friendship

However, that all changed when somebody entered the picture

"Another one?" you asked Atsumu as he sat on your usual table at the school's cafeteria.

Looking at the two boxes of chocolates given to him by a fangirl, Atsumu nodded. "Mhmm. They just keep on coming every single day."

You can't help but laugh at what he said. You took one of the boxes and stared at the familiar name written on it. "Yuki again? Isn't she that girl from the other section? The one who kept on giving you stuff every day?" you asked and the smile you had awhile ago completely disappeared from your face.

"The one and only. She's kind of cute though," he said as if it wasn't a big deal.

Maybe for him, it wasn't, but it's a different case for you. You were aware of what you're getting into the moment you realized that you have feelings for Atsumu. At first, his fangirls didn't bother you since you knew that he doesn't really pay attention to them but hearing what Atsumu said just now sparked a feeling of jealousy inside of you.

You knew that what you're feeling right now is selfish. He isn't your boyfriend. Sure, you might've been in love with him for 2 years now but that doesn't mean that you have the right to tell him who he should and shouldn't date, right? After all, you're just his friend.

In fact, you've thought of confessing several times already but fear always overtook you. Afraid of ruining the bond the two of you have, you disregarded the idea and settled on keeping your feelings a secret.

But that might change today. Seeing Atsumu smiling at the chocolates right now made you think that if you don't do something about it now, you might just lose him to another girl.

And you'd rather lose him by getting rejected than lose him to another girl, knowing that you didn't do something.

"You think she's cute?"

Atsumu nodded as he swallowed the whole onigiri Osamu packed for him. "Mhmm. Kind of my type actually."

You tilted your head a bit to the side and rested your cheek on your palm with your elbows placed on top of the table. "So cute girls are your type of girls... What about me, 'Tsumu? Do you think I'm cute?"

Atsumu placed his chopsticks down and stared at you intently, a small grin now forming on his lips. "Of course."

"Cute enough to be your type?"

You knew that you were playing a dangerous game but it was now or never. This time you wouldn't let fear win over you, now that Atsumu mentioned that his attention was caught by someone.

You know Yuki. She's pretty and kind of popular for being a member of the cheerleading team, and the more you thought about it, the more your confidence wavered.

A volleyball player and a cheerleader? What a good match.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Atsumu laughing. "What are ya saying, y/n? Did ya hit yer head or something?"

Crossing your arms over your chest to fake confidence, you frowned at him. "Just answer the question, Miya."

"Of course yer cute but to be my type?" He shook his head and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, angel, but I don't date my friends, let alone someone whom I consider my best friend."

You took a deep breath before finally letting the words out. Your heart was beating erratically as cold sweat started forming on your nape out of nervousness.

"I like you, Atsumu. I tried to hold myself back because I didn't want to ruin our friendship but hearing you talk about how someone finally managed to catch your attention just..." You sighed and looked down at your lap. "I don't think I can hide it anymore knowing that I could lose you anytime."

Silence enveloped the two of you and the anticipation made you more anxious than you already was.

"Was this yer plan all along?"

You turned your gaze towards him upon hearing his words. "What do you mean? I don't know what you're talking about.."

You felt yourself freeze when Atsumu chuckled before answering. "Ya really think I'd fall for the same trick? C'mon y/n. I'm not as stupid as what people say."

"I don't understand-"

"Did'ya think that two years of friendship will let ya accomplish yer goal? I didn't expect ya to be like the other girls. Ya don't like me. Ya just like the idea of dating me for my popularity." 

Your lips parted at his words. You wanted to reason out and defend yourself but the way he was looking at you made you almost cower in fear.

He's looking at you the way he looks at his fangirls when they shout during his services.

"Tsumu, that's not true. I really like you." You gave him a pleading look, hoping that he'd see your sincerity but he only glared at you.

"Pathetic. Get out of my sight," he said without any sympathy.

"You could've just rejected me like a normal person would, instead of insulting me." You wiped your tears with the back of your hand as you stood up but before you left, you looked at him straight in the eyes once more. "You know what? Out of the two of us, I'm not the one who's pathetic. It's you. Goodluck on your game tomorrow, Atsumu."

You walked away without turning back, knowing that once you spared him another glance, you'd go back and fight for your feelings.

But what's the point of fighting when you're the only one who's willing to fight?

-

A week later, you were back to your usual attitude or at least that's what you wanted yourself to believe. At least you're trying, right?

There were times that your eyes would drift towards Atsumu's direction but you kept on reminding yourself that you won't be able to move on unless you really put effort on throwing away your feelings.

When classes ended, you were left alone in your classroom due to cleaning duties. While you were sweeping the part near the door, you managed to catch Atsumu's back and saw that he was talking to someone - it was Yuki.

You stared at his back longingly and let out a sigh because you knew that despite how much you're trying to disregard your feelings, you miss the feeling of being beside him.

You missed his voice, his goofiness, everything.

"Bestfriends, huh?" you whispered to yourself and chuckled at how pathetic you must've been, pining over someone you knew who'd never look at you.

After doing your cleaning duties, you exit the room and decided to walk on the opposite direction since Atsumu and Yuki were still talking on the direction where the exit was supposed to be.

Who would want to hear their crush talking to their girlfriend anyway? Certainly not you.

The only downside of going in the direction you chose was that you weren't familiar with it. Even though you've been studying here for three years now, there were still places you weren't familiar of.

It was now getting dark and you brought out your phone to use the flashlight. You noticed that you're already out of the building, however, the surroundings weren't familiar to you.

You decided to continue walking, realizing that you somehow made it to the back of the school. Trees surrounded you and only a few lights were there to guide your way.

"Shit," you whispered to yourself as you realized that you were getting nowhere.

You decided to go back to the direction you came from but you only seemed to confuse yourself even more. Tears were now starting to well up in your eyes as you nervously tried to find your way back.

You sqealed as something rustled behind you. You immediately ran out of panic and fumbled with your phone, dialing the first number you could click.

"Y/n?"

It's him.

"'Tsumu, I-" you paused for a moment to catch your breath and sat down on the ground, your back resting against a tree. "Help me."

You hear some shouting and some wooshing sounds from the other side of the phone before Atsumu's voice filled your ears. "Where are you, angel?" he asked with concern lacing his voice.

"I don't know. I was just looking for the exit and the next thing I know I'm surrounded with trees and there's this sound of rustling so I ran away," you said without pausing. "Tsumu, I'm scared."

"I'll go find ya, okay? But first calm down. Can ya do that for me? Just breathe and tell me the directions ya can  remember."

After explaining all the things you could remember, Atsumu didn't drop the call. Instead, he stayed on the line and comforted you with his words.

It wasn't long then when Atsumu appeared on your line of vision and the first thing you did was wrap your arms around him. You were quickly enveloped in his warmth as he rubbed your back soothingly.

"It's okay now, y/n. I'm here," he whispered as he kept on rubbing your back.

After having a few moments to calm you down, Atsumu instructed you to climb on his back. You wanted to decline but due to how tired your legs felt because of running, you had no choice but to agree.

"I'm sorry for calling you. You must've been busy," you mumbled while resting your head on his shoulder.

"I was actually still around school when ya called. I saw ya cleaning and decided to wait for ya but Yuki wanted to talk to me. The next moment I know, ya were gone but I still waited because I knew that if ya went home already, you would've passed by but ya didn't," Atsumu explained, his grip on your thighs tightening as he spoke.

"I guess Yuki and you are now-"

"I spoke to her to tell her to stop giving me random stuff." Atsumu licked his lips nervously before continuing, "When you left, I realized how much I messed up. I spouted some offensive words to ya and rejected ya without thinking of the consequences."

"Tsumu..."

"Let me finish, okay? This is the only chance I'm getting and there's no way I'm going to waste it. I already wasted a lot of time."

You gave a small nod as the memories of what happened all came flooding back to you. You fisted your hands and bit your lower lip to stop yourself from crying.

"I was scared. Ya were the only one who was genuine to me. Everytime I'm around you, I'm just me. I'm just Atsumu. Not the setter of the volleyball team nor the noisy twin of 'Samu," he said, followed be a chuckle.

"I was used to girl fawning over me. I have this mentality that girls are just after my reputation and when ya confessed to me, the first thing that entered my mind was that you were the same as them, that you were only going to use me. In the end, I didn't only lost my bestfriend but also the person I love. I'm sorry for hurting for you, angel."

Atsumu placed you down once you both made it infront of the school gate. He was looking you intensely and you didn't fail to notice that his eyes were glossed with tears as well. "I like you, and if this time, ya realized that yer feelings for me are no longer there, I'd respect it."

He took your hands in his and squeezed them tightly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to let you know that he was afraid to let you go.

"It's always been here. My feelings for you never faded despite how much I wanted them to disappear," you said as you stared at him lovingly, tears of happiness now flowing freely down your cheeks. "I still like you, 'Tsumu."

"Fuck. You don't know how much hearing ya say that makes me happy right now." Atsumu let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around you. His scent filled your nose and you couldn't stop yourself from burrying your face to the side of his neck.

"I love ya."

"And I love you too, 'Tsumu."

likes and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

[captaindarkchocolatesstuff]

Hello, could I request for a yandere Deku with a reader who has the habit of writing a diary? Reader writes all sorts of things she hasn't told anyone about till date like how someone always kept flirting with her and how she has insecure thoughts about herself lately and other things. Do you think he's going to snoop through it and read it?

I wasn’t sure if you wanted a scenario or headcanon for this so I went with a scenario, hope you don’t mind! :D Also, this leans towards Soft! Yandere.

[Warnings: Contains sexual harassment on train Via Inaproprate picture taking]

He didn’t mean to snoop around, at least not at first, but he couldn’t help the curiosity that piqued his interest in the booklet that was in your favorite shade of (color).

It was out in the open, begging to be read.

Yes, he felt a bit guilty when he skimmed through the pages, but in the end, it would help him in the long run, he can find out about the things you like, the things you hated, and potentially see if anyone has been a bother to you.

“Entry #__: Today has been a rather disappointing one, I thought today would be okay in the beginning at first but, as usual, everyone in class outshined me, I’m starting to think I wasn’t cut out to be a hero in the first place…”

“Ah”, Izuku unknowingly let the sound slip from his lips as he stared at the page a while longer, his brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and bewilderment. Your quirk was a common plant-based one, but how you handled it was rather unique and complex. Nonetheless, it didn’t take him too long to figure out that you were beginning to feel insecure.

Still, he continued to read.

“...Recently, on my way home, a guy at the train station tried to flirt with me, the compliments were nice and all but yet, I also couldn't help but feel like he was also pointing out some flaw I didn’t see on myself. He said the uniform looked good on me but something felt off about the way he said it, was my skirt too short? Were the unbuttoned areas of my shirt exposing too much of my cleavage? Should I have worn leggings, shorts, or long socks today? What were other people thinking when they saw me dress the way I was? My classmates? Was I showing too much? Did I look like I was trying to get attention? I know I can’t be that attractive, but I know I am not desperate either? Am I?...”

Izuku couldn't help the frown that began to tug at his lips, it only formed into a full scowl when he noticed droplets that were at the corners of the page.

Tears. Those were your tears that spilled on the page, you were crying as you wrote about your day.

“...maybe I did look desperate, I must’ve looked desperate. If that creep on the train took an upskirt picture of me, I could’ve done something. No, I should’ve done something. But, yet why didn’t I? How can I be a hero with the way I am now, heroes don’t let this happen to them…”

Izuku felt something once he read that sentence. Irritated? No. Angry? Not that either... Furious. There it was, that is what he was feeling. He was furious. He was furious that someone took a picture of you in an indecent manner, that these people made you question your worth and abilities. They couldn’t see beyond your appearance…

The realization slowly settled in, that if no one could see beyond what they take you to be, they don’t deserve to be near you.

With that thought in mind, Izuku read the last entry of your diary.

“...What should I do? I know they're going to ask me the reasons as to why I would leave UA, but will my reasons be enough? Should I tell mom? What about dad? I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what I am doing anymore.”

He closed the book, a blank look crossed his features as his eyes took a more dull color, placing the diary back where it was. He thought long and hard about what steps he should take next as he waited for you.

The door opened.

“Sorry I took so long Midoriya, it must’ve been bothersome”, you let out a sheepish chuckle as you walked into the room with a tray of snacks and beverages.

Izuku sent you a kind smile, “I don’t mind”.

“So long as you’re here”, he wanted to finish.

“Still…”, you trail off as you set down the tray.

Izuku took this chance to stand up and walked over to you, before either of you knew it, a low squeak escaped you at the sudden action of Izuku wrapping his arms around you from behind before he buried his face into your shoulder plate.

It was unlike Izuku to do something so bold, so out of character for him.

“M-Midoriya?”, you tentatively call out to him.

“(Y/n)...”, he used your first name, Izuku never used your first name, “...I want you to know that I’ll always be here, okay?”.

“Where is this coming from Midoriya?”, you couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“I want to be a good friend”, he doesn’t want to be a friend, but that will have to wait for now, “so if you ever need me, come to me, please?”.

The soft tone in his voice didn't match the look on his face as his grip on you tightened for a moment.

With teary eyes you nodded your head, you couldn’t find it within yourself to speak as Izuku held you gently. For now, he’ll stay with you for a while longer.

Then he’ll go after the villains that hurt you.

[the-darklings]

“ i’m gonna marry you one day. ” Santi + V please? Thank you so much in advance 🥺

prompt: “ i’m gonna marry you one day. ”

pairing: santino d’antonio x v (coa)

wc: 966

notes: takes place post ch1 but after s/v first meeting; this could honestly be canon for how in character that prompt is lmao. also had no good place to end it so it overran like crazy & ends kinda weird but we're just gonna ignore that.

Champagne bubbles tickle your nose, tickling your tongue as you survey the lively crowd silently. The live band transitions to yet another classic piece, the dancefloor full of swaying and cheery guests. Your eyes scan the smear of people and colour, blending in easily enough amongst the numbers, and never moving too far away from your mark.

Your dress shimmers around your body when you adjust your position—strangely fitting, and even more strangely comfortable, even if it’s a novelty for the poor little girl—and you let the glass of your drink touch your mouth again. Painted blood red for the occasion. You look appealing in an unassuming, elegant way. Especially when compared to other women in attendance.

A part of you wonders what John would think of you right now if he saw you. If he would prefer you like this—pretty and dressed up, with a glittering gown and smokey makeup. His absence feels like a limb that’s been removed too swiftly. Gushing blood and weakening you. Every time you expect to glance into the shadows and find his silent, too still frame looming there. Protective, dangerous, and ever watchful.

No such thing happens despite your mute hope for it.

Tarasov is clearly eager for you to be detangled from one another after your screw-up.

“What a lovely sight on this rather dull night.”

Your mouth purses into a line, eyes remaining on the flow of the crowd.

There’s a glimmer of familiarity about the accented purr of a voice at your side. Back straight and arms crossed over your chest, you don’t move when a man comes to a stand beside you. Faint heat emits from his body, and you pull the cool glass away from your lips—not like you were drinking anyway.

“Mr. D’Antonio.”

Your greeting is cool, if barely polite. No reaction to his previous compliment leaves your mouth.

“Ah, and so we meet again,” he notes pleasantly, a low rumble of pleasure at this fact stark in his melodic voice. “I did not expect the Russian to send you. Should I, ah, call for a clean-up in advance?”

Your eyes slide his way at long last. Clad in a fitting dark suit, combed curly hair, and a wicked glint in his eyes, Santino D’Antonio strikes a similar image to the one he did back at the church.

Too arrogant. Too condescending with little to no effort. And far, far too charismatic for his own damn good.

“Are you planning to die tonight?” you question coolly, rising a single brow.

His mouth twists, forming a crooked grin that takes the place of his previous indifference, and you choose to ignore the suggestive sweep of his eyes down your figure. He’s so blatant about it you wonder if he clearly wants you to see or if he simply doesn’t care if you find it distasteful.

Men in power, you seethe silently to yourself, they’re all the same. Stupid and entitled.

“A sharp tongue for a beautiful woman,” he muses curiously; a bait to play with him rather obvious. He doesn’t move closer, however, content to stand beside you and that’s the only reason you don’t pull a blade on him again. “Many would consider me to be a lucky man.”

“Or a stupid one,” you cut in idly, peering into the crowd to avoid looking at him. “To be bothering someone clearly not interested in warming your bed. And working. I don’t think you need me to remind you what exactly my profession is.”

“Do you talk to everyone in such a manner or am I a rare exception, hm?”

“A rare exception. I like most people just fine.”

“But not me?” he hums in thought. You feel the heat of his eyes on you, and his next words come as lower, drawling, “Why not? There are a great many things a man like myself can offer a woman such as yourself.”

Your eyes slide back to him. Vivid green steals your breath for a moment and you remind yourself he likely purposely baited you enough to force your attention back his way. Does he think his looks will sway you? It’s almost comical how ignorant this man is.

“I don’t need anything from a son of Camorra,” you tell him, frowning faintly. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr D’Antonio. I don’t keep company with backstabbers.”

“Just murderers and cheats?”

You try to bite back your slight grin but fail. “Yes.”

A pause, then, “I'm going to marry you one day.”

You nearly drop the glass in your hand, your head jerking in his direction. But this time, he’s the one who's peering out towards the party. Nonchalant and at ease.

“Excuse me?”

His slight grin stretches and he gives you a sly look. “Hm, hard on hearing?”

When you don’t respond—still wide-eyed and speechless—he lets those intent, raging eyes journey over your face, searching for something. He looks a little startled himself, as if he hadn’t expected those words to escape him. Like he needs to confirm to himself the validity of them.

“I’m going to marry you one day,” he repeats, a little more sure this time. His grin stretches at the swiftly fleeing bewilderment being replaced with prickling anger at his sheer nerve. “Three children. Two sons and a daughter. With their mama’s smarts and their papa’s beauty.”

“How lovely,” you hiss. “But I’m not looking for a husband.”

As if you would ever marry him of all people. As if you weren’t chained to Tarasov.

Santino offers a one-shouldered shrug. His only explanation. Still effortlessly haughty despite your burning glare. “I’ll see you around, cara mia.”

One last, heated stare in your direction, and then his lean figure disappears in the crowd.

[burnedbyshoto]

arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller. 

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be. 

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment. 

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters. 

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due. 

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving. 

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were. 

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime. 

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked. 

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of. 

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!” she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs. 

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor. 

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt. 

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence. 

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you. 

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead. 

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin. 

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know. 

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless. 

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet. 

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him. 

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs. 

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely. 

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor. 

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient. 

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up. 

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands. 

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored. 

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes. 

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours. 

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

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tags in comments, theres too many of you.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Gabriel ~ What You Put Me Through

1,500 Followers Challenge!

Masterlist

Requested by @unadulteratedwizardlove

Based on I Will Always Love You ~ Whitney Houston (The Bodyguard)

Trope: Frenemies to Lovers

Words: 1,466

Warnings: Neutral Reader, slight crack fic, character disagreements, awkward conversations, fluff

Gabriel didn't understand it.  By every right, the two of you should've gotten along swimmingly. You shared the same sense of humour, loved pranking others, and had a sweet tooth a mile wide.  Yet, there was just something that sat between the two of you that never felt right.

He had turned on you and you had turned on him, but you were also considered friends.  It made the angels head spin.  He wanted to hate you, but couldn't.  Perhaps he wanted to love you, but wasn't sure if he should.

None of it made any sense.

If you felt anything like he did, you kept it to yourself, and perhaps this was what infuriated Gabriel the most.  Your cards were too close to your chest, making it hard to get a true read of you.  It wasn't something he was used to.

“Ah, another dull hunt." He said, leaning against the Impala as Sam and Dean rifled through the trunk, but he earned your attention.

"Sad that you won't have an opportunity to show off?”  You asked.

"Well, I'd hate to think of you getting bored Y/N,” he shrugged lightly.  "And I am here to be pretty and entertain."

Your lip curled in a smirk.  "Well, you're at least doing one of those things."

Dean slammed the boot shut, rolling his eyes.  "Just get a room already."

"Cute Dean," You bit almost immediately. "I'm sure Gabriel could arrange a nice one for you and Castiel.”

"Or convince Crowley to finally make a move," Gabriel joined in.  "Maybe a nice threesome would finally break that tension."

You snorted even as Dean screwed his face up, Sam hiding a snicker behind his back.

"Right, you two head around the back,” Dean said quickly, getting the subject back to the hunt.  "Sam and I will take the front and we'll meet in the middle."

"I can't tell whether that's a bad euphemism or not.”  You said, shrugging as Dean shot you a glare. "What?  Between you and Gabriel, it's a constant contest to see who can do worse."

"Who's winning?"  Gabriel asked dryly.

You shot him a grin.  "You, of course."

Gabriel shook his head, even as he followed after you, missing the quiet words said behind him from Sam and Dean.  You were infuriating and he honestly didn’t know what to do about it.  This should not have been a rivalry.

Inside, you threw out an arm to stop him and he stared at you, having not felt anything off, in fact, the place was almost too quiet. “What?”

You quickly hushed him, your head titled as you listened to something intently.  For all his angelic power, Gabriel could honestly find nothing wrong.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, pushing past, ignoring your hand as you tried to grab him.  “No come on, this is getting dull really-”

There was a brilliant flash of light that threw Gabriel back, straight into you, the two of you landing in an uncomfortable heap on the ground.  There was movement, and before either of you could move, you were both knocked out cold.

Gabriel came around slowly, his head giving a low, painful throb. That shouldn’t have been possible, but when he tried to rectify it, he found his powers completely blocked, and this brought him fully around a lot quicker.

“Oh, he wakes,” You said from across the room, a gash on your head having left a trail of blood that had now dried.  “Was starting to think I was going to have to try every solution myself.”

He ignored the dig, sitting up and looking around the rather plain and empty room, it not making sense on what would be blocking his grace. “Well, this is charming.”

You rolled your eyes and got to your feet, moving to the door and giving it a swift kick.  “Yeah, and that’s solid steal with no lock on this side.  I’m guessing your grace is also currently out of action?”

Gabriel nodded.  “And you’re going to end up with a sore toe if you do that too much.”

“Very funny,” You said, folding your arms.  “At least I’ve been awake and trying things.”

“Need some help?”

“Gabriel, I will kick your arse one day,” You said, shooting him a glare.  “And I promise that I will win.”

He chuckled as he stood, brushing himself down.  “I’m sure we can work it out without the violence Y/N, in fact, I could come up with several ways right now.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Gabriel was a little stunned, watching the slightly embarrassed look that you tried to hide in your scowl.  He’d made plenty of insinuations before, but he’d never had that reaction out of you.

He blinked and decided to just throw it all in.  “Do you like me Y/N?”

You snapped around to look at him, quickly trying to shrug it off. “What’s that supposed to mean?  We hunt together well enough.”

“You know full well what I mean,” he approached, a little cautiously, unsure of how you would react, although he knew that your weapons had been taken awake, you were resourceful.  “And I think after everything you’ve put me through, I deserve an answer.”

“Everything I’ve put you through?”  You asked, rounding on him again, anger flickering in your gaze.  “What about what you’ve put me through?  You act as if that’s a fair question at all!”

“Of course it’s a fair question,” he frowned.  “You act as if we’re enemies or something, not to mention the digs and the insults.  If that’s you flirting, we really need to improve your game.”

“Oh, well, excuse me for being human,” You bit.  “It’s not like an immortal being like yourself would ever want a mortal, especially a hunter that could practically drop dead at any moment because of the career they’ve chosen.”

“That’s your excuse?  Because you don’t think I’d have any interest in you because I’m immortal?” This took him back, but anger still curled in his stomach.  “You never even talked to me about it!”

“Because I knew what the answer would be and I didn’t want to put myself through that,” You said.  “Now, let’s drop this and find a way out of this mess.  Chances are, you won’t even remember any of this in a few days anyway.”

“What?”  He asked.

“I can’t imagine crap like this stands out to you,” You said angrily.  “I’m not going to be just another notch in your memories, Gabriel.  My life is a blip to you and I refuse to let that be how I am remembered.”

Gabriel stared at you for a long moment, some of it finally making sense on why you acted the way you did, and although he was still a little angry over it, it made more sense that he wanted it too.

“I’ve been on Earth for a long time now, Y/N,” he said quietly, keeping his anger aside, even as your eyes scanned the walls the around you for what, no doubt, was the umpteenth time.  “And sure, most of the times the humans I’ve met tend to get blurred together in my memory, sometimes it’s hard to distinguish one day from another, but lately that’s been different.”

You snorted, annoyed.  “Sure.”

He grabbed your arm, forcing you to face him.  “I mean it.  What has been happening now has been important to me, it’s been far more than I ever expected, and despite what you think, despite your stubbornness and all the other mess that you throw out at me, I care about you.”

Your mouth opened, intending to talk, to say something, but no words would come, and you found yourself just holding his gaze.

“Now, why don’t we stop this nonsense, get out of here and then sort this out.” He said gently, wanting to touch you, but refraining, still unsure of how you would react when the tension sat so heavily in the air.  “I don't know about you, but I'd like to make today worth remembering.”

The embarrassment returned, but this time you didn’t hide it, although your jaw clenched, clearly uncomfortable.  You nodded and watched as he carefully removed his hand from your arm.

Gabriel couldn’t help but smirk.  “Well, it seems we still followed Dean’s advice.”

“What?”  You frowned at him, glad for the distraction, but not understanding what he meant.”

“We got a room.”

You smacked him as he chuckled, just making him laugh harder, a few muttered curses said under your breath as you turned your attention back to the door.  He wasn’t fooled though, he could still see your smile with your back to him, and he decided that that was what he loved the most about you.