#hes sweaty and he hates his life and hes trapped in the fantasy that his best friend from when he was 10 will love him again 20 years later | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurinoot · 2 years

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requiem | wanderlust chapter 9

you are so fed up with the increasing demand and workload at your job as the head of public relations at a well-known and established media company. a secluded cabin surrounded by nature in a faraway town is just what you need to get your mind away from work, not knowing what you might encounter there…

pairing: iwaizumi x fem!reader, past iwaoi

themes: smut [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT], mmmorning sex, mentions of biting/marking, lumberjack!iwa, mentions of bisexual!iwa, virgin!reader, ex-boyfriend playboy!oikawa, fluff, angst, slow burn (-ish? lol), aged-up characters, some characters have the same post-timeskip jobs so spoiler alert

wc: 3k

notes: this entire work is written in collaboration with my awesome and perfect fellow sinner, @meiansmistress- 언니 !

it’s been a while since I posted around here, and I really apologize since I’m really busy with college and things in my life, but hey! this chapter is written by @meiansmistress herself but I have the pleasure of editing it and posting it on her behalf as she continues feeding us with her works!

I’ll really make sure to make it up to everyone with the next chapter! and sorry for waiting for so long!

masterlist || chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || chapter 7 || chapter 8 || chapter 9 || chapter 10 || chapter 11 || chapter 12

There’s a strange weight behind you when you try to shift, and a pair of strong arms keep you trapped in the bed. It takes you a moment to reorient yourself and remember what exactly you had been doing. Your naked body is still warm and content, pressed up against Iwaizumi’s broad, strong chest as he hugs you to him. When did you fall asleep? You can’t remember, but you do remember how careful the lumberjack was as he wiped you down, making sure you were clean after what he put your body through.

His embrace is enough to make you forget that today is your last day. Your mind is so jumbled that it’s hard to process what you should do next. You have to go back, you know that. You start work again in two days, putting an end to your little summer fantasy, as much as you hate it. But the pull to stay with Iwaizumi and keep pretending that this could lead somewhere is just as strong. He makes you feel safe and loved, welcomed within his arms like you belong there, even after such a short time.

A short time.

It makes you sigh, hiding your face in your hands with a groan. Are you really considering giving up your entire life—especially the job you worked for tooth and nail—for a guy you just met?

You know it’s a bad idea. You’ve told your friends the same when they were sure their new boyfriend was “the one” (and were, as expected, wrong). So what makes your situation any different? Reality smacks you in the face harder than Iwaizumi punched Oikawa. You don’t really know Iwaizumi, other than the date you had and the night you shared. And yet you had willingly given him your virginity, in front of his ex-boyfriend no less, because for just a moment, you wanted the world to stop for the both of you.

Only it can’t.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi’s voice is gravelly with sleep, his chin sharp on your shoulder as he pulls you impossibly closer. You hadn’t even noticed him wake up. “What are you thinking about so hard?”

“It’s nothing,” you smile, tilting your head back to give him a small reassuring smile. “Only that I want to say goodbye to Mattsun and Makki.”

“Hm,” Iwaizumi hums, trailing his lips over your sweaty shoulder as his hands begin to wander over your skin. You swallow, putting a hand over his wrist to intertwine your fingers, but it doesn’t stop him from swiping over your inner thighs with your joined hands. “Can you talk to them later?”

“Hajime?”

When he swipes his fingers over your sore cunt, you gasp, grinding back into him. You can feel him growing hard on your back again, and he grinds into you to make sure you know it, too.

“I want to spend a little more time together.” His voice is more than gravelly now—it’s heavy, laced with the want that is prominent against your ass. “Go later.”

His fingers pry open your folds, fingertips running over the remnants of his cum in you, gathering the slick to move up to your clit. You’re tired and sore, but you cling to him anyway, letting go of his hand to grab the back of his thigh. Your nails dig into his flesh as he starts rubbing circles, lips ghosting over your shoulder and neck until you’re murmuring at him to kiss you.

It’s an awkward angle but you make do somehow, the drags of his lips and tongue against yours much too slow and calculated for it to be just a one night ordeal. You aren’t sure what hurts more: that your body is already singing for him after such a short time, that you know this happiness and pleasure can’t last, or that when he pulls back, his eyes hold so much love and concern for you that it makes you shiver.

“If you’re too tired, we don’t have to,” Iwaizumi offers.

You wish he wouldn’t be so caring toward you, because it makes your heart flip and your decisions that much harder.

“I’m okay, promise.” You force a smile to reassure him before turning in his embrace, hands on his shoulders pushing him to lay down on the bed. He goes easily, smirking up at you as you climb into his lap and settle with your throbbing pussy over his hard cock. “Can I?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” he grunts, hands on your hips helping you grind against him.

Your cheeks burn at the sight of him below you. His chest is already heaving, skin flushed and slightly dewy from your multiple rounds. His stomach ripples with his groan when the head of his cock bumps against your clit, and you steady yourself on his chest before grabbing his cock and sinking down on it. It burns slightly thanks to your soreness, but it’s not enough to make you want to stop. Especially not when Iwaizumi’s grip tightens and he helps you squirm until he’s fully buried inside of you for the third time.

“Fuck, I could live here,” the lumberjack jokes, rocking up into you with a heavy exhale as he momentarily throws his head back at the sensation.

It’s scary how much you mean it when you immediately respond, “Me too.”

There’s something about the way he stares up at you—at your blown pupils, swollen lips, marked body thanks to his passion from earlier. It’s like he can see right through you, can read your troubling thoughts, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s too vulnerable, too nerve-wracking. You’ve never had someone be able to read you like a book, and you have to tear your eyes away from him before you can reveal anymore of your secrets.

Before you can show him how much you already want to be his.

Instead you start moving, lifting and dropping your hips to sear the feeling of his cock inside you into your memory. When your walls squeeze him, he grunts, hands moving up your back and sides until he can cup your breasts. He kneads as you move, lifting his legs to fuck up into you to get even deeper. You whine, falling into him as you move faster, trying to clear your mind of the jumbled mess it’s becoming.

The bed squeaks beneath you, mixing with your pleasured sounds as Iwaizumi continues to hit that spot over and over that has you mewling and digging your nails into his pecs. Your thighs burn as you move but you don’t dare stop, not when Iwaizumi sounds so good grunting beneath you every time he ruts up.

“Can you touch yourself for me?” The question makes you squeak in surprise, and there’s a small smirk on his face when your gaze flicks up to his. “I wanna see it.”

He’s already given you plenty of orgasms that you aren’t sure you can have another, but you oblige anyway, fingers trailing down to your swollen clit. Iwaizumi exhales through his nose as you start to finger your clit, digits sliding easily thanks to the mix of your wetness and Iwaizumi’s earlier cum. His eyes are focused on the movement, cheeks red as he bounces you on his cock for his own benefit.

“Hajime,” you whine as you move faster. It feels so good with him hitting deep and your movements flushing heat through your body. Your clit throbs as you work quickly, chasing another high that surprises you with its intensity.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he compliments, voice choked off with his groan. “So fucking pretty.”

His words spike pleasure in your stomach, and it doesn’t take very long until you’re whimpering and clinging to his chest, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to finish. His hands come to your ass, gripping your cheeks as he rocks you, gruff voice edging you along. Come on, you feel so fucking good, show me. It’s all too much—you snap with a hoarse cry of his name, biting your bottom lip as you shudder forward with your orgasm.

Iwaizumi helps you along, keeps you rocking as your walls spasm and clench around him, juices dripping down his cock. Only when you grow quiet in hopes to catch your breath does he flip you over so you’re beneath him again. You squeak, clinging to his shoulders when he pushes in again, your legs wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. He sets his hands next to your head and begins a brutal pace, one that has you raking your nails down his back and pushing to bring him closer.

His lips mash against yours, his tongue as fast as his sloppy thrusts. You can barely keep up, not that you mind, because Iwaizumi’s cock dragging along your sensitive walls feels too good. The way he pants and groans against your lips leaves you dizzy, and when he bites down on your shoulder with his orgasm, you cry out and tug him closer. Warmth floods you another time, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way it feels like it spreads throughout your entire being, letting you panting and needy for more.

Iwaizumi collapses against you, head resting on your shoulder as a hand runs up and down your side. You’re both gasping for breath, bodies pulsing and flushed hot, and it would be a beautiful moment if not for his sheer bulk making it hard to breathe.

“Hajime, get up,” you pant, and end up laughing when he scrambles up with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry. Forgot I’m so heavy.”

“It’s all the lumberjack muscles,” you joke before pausing. You shouldn’t be joking like this, not when you have to make a decision within the next day that will leave you heartbroken either way. “Do you want to shower first…?”

Iwaizumi looks positively confused when he answers, “We can shower together.”

“Wait, no!”

Why is it so embarrassing to think about?

“You can go first, I don’t mind.”

“Give me a break, we just slept together three times,” he grumbles good-naturedly, “I don’t know what else there is to hide.” Then he grins and it nearly takes your breath away. “Afterwards, I’ll take you to town to see Mattsun and Makki.”

You want to deny him, tell him that it would be better to do it alone, but then he kisses you one more time and you forget all about it. The shower is warm, but Iwaizumi’s hands on your body are even warmer, but maybe that’s because of the way it feels so domestic. He washes your back, you wash his hair, and in between you share a few kisses that certainly mean more than what your muddled relationship status is.

Iwaizumi steps out first, giving you time to stand beneath the warm stream of water. You stand there for a short while, your entire mind blank. You know you need to do something—talk to him, make a decision, go home—but everything is so overwhelming. You’re so used to having a plan, just like you always did. School, work, busting ass to get to the top at your job. You had always had something to work for, some kind of road map to get to where you wanted to be. But whatever this is with Iwaizumi is uncharted territory for you, enough that your hands are shaking when you turn off the faucet.

Before you can even exit, there’s a knock on the door, and Iwaizumi peeks in, looking annoyed.

“Hey.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Fukunaga asked me to drive him to the city to get an ingredient he’s missing. Apparently he can’t find it here.” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head, looking sheepish as he leans against the doorframe. “I know I said I’d take you to see Mattsun and Makki, but…”

“It’s okay!” You respond a little too quickly, grabbing a towel to wrap around yourself. “Really. I can go see them myself.”

“You sure?”

You nod a few times, like you’re trying to both convince yourself and him that it’s okay. Iwaizumi nods with an exhale, checking his phone one more time before glancing back.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can then. See you at the cafe?”

You nod your answer again, afraid that opening your mouth will make everything come tumbling out. Maybe talking to Mattsun and Makki will help sort out your feelings and give you the courage to talk to Iwaizumi. You hear him walk over to the door, his shoes shuffling out to the graveled parking area, and then his truck roars to life. You wait until he’s gone to slump against the sink, holding onto tightly to the counter.

The last few days have been a whirlwind, and the silence that lingers now feels oppressive. You try to keep busy by drying off, putting on clothes, packing your things and setting them in your car, but nothing helps. Iwaizumi’s ghost lingers everywhere, enough that it makes a headache form. So you’re in your car the next moment, heading toward the cafe you promised to meet Iwaizumi at.

When you get there, you can see Futakuchi, Mattsun, and Makki through the window. The cafe owner is telling a story as Makki laughs at it, engrossed in his phone like usual. Mattsun looks over, chuckles about something, then elbows his friend. Makki looks offended, shaking his head and arguing, while the other two laugh.

It’s a wonderful moment for them, and a bitter reminder for you.

These aren’t your friends. They have long ties, plenty of memories, and a connection to each other that goes way back. You have a few meetings, one drunken night of embarrassment, and that’s it. That’s the thought that keeps you rooted to your seat, watching the three men laugh with each other.

There’s a vibration in your pocket that snaps you out of your self-deprecating thoughts, and you check it to see another headache. Your co-workers name blazes back at you, a reminder that tomorrow is your last day of freedom before working again.

You pick it up after swallowing your sigh. “Hello?”

“Hey, sorry to bug you.”

No, you’re not, you want to answer but keep silent. You never would have talked to her like this before, but something about your mood is sour now thanks to the situation.

“It’s fine. What’s wrong?”

“That interview you did with the Instagram influencer. I, uh… accidentally deleted the file? But it has to go out by tomorrow morning. Do you have a copy?”

“On my computer.”

She sighs happily. “Perfect! Can you send it to me?”

“No, I’m not in town. My computer’s at my house.”

You can practically hear her sob through the phone. “God, our boss is going to kill me. I’m so screwed. Is there any way you can get it?”

You sigh, setting your head down on the steering wheel. This is how it’s always been: you fixing for other people’s mistakes, giving in to their pleading and picking up their slack for them. That’s the reason you haven’t been able to have a vacation in years—and even on your first vacation away, you’re still cut short with shit that isn’t your fault.

“Um.”

“Please!” She pleads desperately. “Please, I’m begging. I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

They never do. Two weeks away from the office has allowed you to see that clearly. You glance back up, staring at Iwaizumi’s friends laughing in the cafe, a cold shiver running down your back. It feels like you don’t belong anywhere—not inside with the men, not at your workplace anymore. No matter where you are, it feels so lonely. Iwaizumi is the only person to have made you feel differently, but yet here you are, still on the outside of his life, looking through the glass without an easy way inside.

“...Okay,” you eventually answer, your heart sinking at your co-worker’s relieved sigh. “I’ll e-mail it to you in a few hours.”

“Perfect! You’re a lifesaver. When you come in tomorrow, we can—”

“I’m not coming in tomorrow,” you remind her quickly, annoyance beginning to creep into your tone. “I still have one more day of my vacation.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Release the interview as scheduled,” you cut in again. “I already did everything anyway, it’s ready, so there should be no issues or reason to call me.”

“Alright, alright,” your co-worker grumbles. “Touchy.”

You don’t even bother giving her a response. You end the call without saying goodbye, throwing the phone into the passenger’s seat to be forgotten. Is this what you’re going back to? More stress, more headaches, more work? You glance behind you in the rear-view mirror. You can’t see it, but even the thought of Iwaizumi’s cabin gives you another headache.

It’s all too much. You need space.

Without saying goodbye to the three of them, you set the car in reverse and slowly drive away.

You don’t look at it, but your cell phone looms in your peripheral vision anyway, begging to be used. You have Iwaizumi’s number from the rental—you should call him and tell him you’re leaving. Tell him what the last two weeks meant to you before going. Promise that you’ll come back soon, because you want to see him again, because he means so much to you already. But then a lingering feeling eats away at your confidence. What if he doesn’t reciprocate? What if it was just something fun for him, to help him get over Oikawa and get Oikawa out of his life for good? You don’t think he would do that, but honestly, you don’t really know him well, do you?

Iwaizumi’s cabin approaches, and you hit the brakes to slow down even more. Should you wait for him? Go back to the cafe and forget about your coworker? Is leaving like this the right decision? It will be dark soon, meaning there’s not much time left to make a decision. Shakily, you get out of the car, the key to the cabin tight in your hand. You stare at the “Welcome!” mat in front of the doorway for a few minutes, before slowly bending down and setting the key underneath.

It’s better this way, you think as you turn back to your car and don’t look back.

But that doesn’t stop the tears from slipping down your cheeks the second Iwaizumi’s cabin is swallowed by the thick trees, becoming only a memory you’ll never forget.

taglist: @vanille–kiss, @chibi-chanforever, @hismilkbread, @miki-snake, @chicoree, @xmyshya, @kurosukii, @hoe4hq, @plump-peach, @ysatrap, @meri-soni-meri-tamanna, @bunbyy @hogwarts–imagines @semisgroupie @anime-nymph @kinsurou @wisenerdcreator @bucinhajime @slutawara @thechildishvillainess @kellyyween

back to the wanderlust masterlist

#asellus.writes #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #hq x reader #hq smut #lumberjack iwaizumi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #wanderlust chapter 9

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mrs-hyperfixed-writes · 3 years

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Are You Single - 2

Tag List: @becomeunsolved @ambiguous-g @favorite-slytherin-weirdo @a-weirdperson @artist-bby

The reader makes their way through Castle Dimitrescu, encountering the Lady and her daughters. Heisenberg might just have to re-evaluate his opinion of you when you're the unexpected victor of the battles with them.

You had ran through the glorified saw trap, avoiding Lycans and giants alike as you listened to Heisenberg’s taunting. Evidently he was an asshole, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the butterflies in your stomach going mad at the way he spoke to you. Fear had briefly crawled up your spine when he had dropped the spinning log of spikes, blocking your exit and apparently sealing your fate. Thankfully there had been a crevice in the wall, big enough to drop your backpack down by your side and protect yourself. The only thing that took damage was the handcuffs. It had briefly occurred to you that it seemed a very convenient hiding space in an otherwise foolproof killing room.

You ended up back at the gate that you had been captured at, looking over your shoulder this time as you pulled the lever up. Not that you could do anything if Heisenberg or his overgrown sister decided to double check. It seemed unlikely that either of them would treat you to a meal, but you could hope. If you were being honest with yourself though, Heisenberg hardly screamed refined dining.

No, he seemed more like a man who would order a McDonalds or a Burgerking after he’d been working tirelessly all day on a machine in a tank top. All sweaty. . . you smacked yourself in the face, snapping yourself out of your fantasy. You needed to get a grip. Preferably around his throat or his-

You slapped yourself again.

You left through the gate, coming out to an unpleasant looking vineyard. Of course, Dimitrescu was far too high and mighty to get her hands dirty doing manual labour, and any staff that she may of had to maintain the vineyard were probably dead. You shuddered at the thought of so many deaths. You didn’t know any of those people, didn’t know anyone in this godforsaken village that had been put in the middle of nowhere except for the few that had just survived long enough to be brutally killed in front of you. No one would remember any of the dead. It was as if they never existed. And if you died here - which you likely would - you would likely not be remembered. Not with fondness anyway.

You were brought out of your dark thoughts by the sound of a man groaning and wood creaking. You looked up, and to your surprise found an old-fashioned wagon settled in front of the entrance to Castle Dimitrescu. The doors swung open, and someone all but rolled out. The man was massive, both in height and weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend,” he said with the attitude of someone who was excited to get down to business.

You stopped a couple of metres away, taking it all in. How was this man even alive? Then again, Dimitrescu was nine feet tall and she seemed like she was functioning better than most people. Especially given that the tallest man in history was nearly nine foot and died super young. You could come to terms with this mans existence in no time.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” You let the uncertainty show in your voice.

“Me? I am but a humble merchant,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “And you’ve been the talk of the town recently! An unknown human outsider making their way through hordes of creatures with nothing but an axe and some second hand guns? Remarkable.”

You hated yourself for the light blush that crept up your neck at the compliment. You never blushed.

“What can I call you?”

“Ah, forgive my manners. You can call me the Duke. Your name please?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I already know it, but some people prefer to tell others their name rather than have the introduction stolen from them.”

You chuckled, deciding to bridge the few metres of distance. “(Y/n).”

“Pleasure. Now, would you like to purchase anything for the journey ahead? Medicine? Ammunition?”

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?”

“Ah, information. All I can tell you now is that Mother Miranda has seemingly abandoned the village she has spent a century ruling. Slaughtered the villagers.” He took a long drag of a cigar he had lit before releasing the smoke into the air. “It seems she’s done it for her daughter.”

“Her daughter? Dimitrescu? Or the woman in the veil?”

“Ah, Lady Donna. But no, neither of those are her real daughters. It’s doubtful she even considers them such. The same for her sons.”

Your thoughts drifted back to Heisenberg. Did he hate her for that? For not considering him her child? Questions for later.

“Then who?”

The Duke regarded you for a second. “Sell me those crystal skulls you’ve collected, make a purchase and find me in the castle, and perhaps I’ll know more.”

You blinked in surprise, briefly wondering how he knew that you had been collecting the crystallised remains of those Lycans. Truthfully you just thought they were pretty.

After selling the remains and buying yourself some extra ammo, as well as some of the strange medicine the Duke advertised that was supposed to encourage cell division, you nodded to him in thanks and turned to face the castle.

“Although I must say,” The Duke called out before you could make much progress, “why do you wish to go into that castle? You are a stranger. There is no stake in this for you.”

You took a deep breath. Why were you doing this? That beast under your skin wanted to answer. To find and tear them apart. For revenge for all the dead. To satisfy my own need for blood and pain.

Instead you said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You walked towards the doors.

***

The inside of the castle was. . . beautiful. Definitely a place a lady would live. Perhaps a place you would live in another life. It seemed as though everything was trimmed with gold, including the beautiful waist high vases decorated with beautiful women. The furniture was of the highest quality, the rugs and carpets plush enough to sleep comfortably on. They looked expensive enough to cost more money than you’d ever had in your entire life. You wiped your muddy boot on the rug you were standing on, leaving a dark smear.

The thing that drew your attention most of all was the portrait that dominated the opposite wall. Three women, admittedly indistinguishable from one another, sat in big dresses. The plaque identified them as the three daughters. Three daughters that loved entertaining foreigners.

A bad feeling overcame you, and you decided to tuck your handgun into your boot, regardless of the discomfort. You covered it with your jeans.

You pressed on until you came to a main chamber that had another set of double doors decorating the walls. A scream rang out, clear as day and stopping you in your tracks. The scream of a woman in terrible pain. Part of you thought that maybe you should try to find her, but something in you knew that it had been a death scream. The agonised scream of someone who wanted to live and was denied.

You swallowed, instead making your way to the double doors, wondering where they lead.

“Well, who’s this then?” an upbeat female voice asked.

You turned to look, and only found three swarms of flies buzzing closer. And right before your eyes, they materialised into three beautiful young women. The daughters. The first thought in your head was how the painting didn’t do any of them justice.

You didn’t even have time to take your gun out of your backpack before the woman on the left - a tall blonde with blood on her mouth - grabbed you by the throat and lifted you clean off the floor, slamming you against the door. She pressed her face closer to your shoulder and took a deep sniff. You shuddered against the feeling of her nose tickling your neck.

“Fresh blood,” she said, voice dripping with a desire that put you on edge.

“Mother says you have to share, sister,” said the redhead with a childish delight, the brunette nodding in agreement with a sadistic grin on her face.

That scream echoed through your head again. The blonde stared into your face, looking for the traces of fear that likely coated their usual victims. She was going to come up empty. You cleared your throat, looking down into beautiful but evil eyes that had probably been the last thing that so many had seen, and spit right in her face.

The grin on her face froze as the glob made contact with her cheek, and then dropped off altogether when her sisters roared in laughter, one of them doubling at the waist and clutching her stomach.

She threw you to the floor, tossing your backpack aside and growling at her sisters to silence them. You leaped towards it with the intention of pulling your shotgun out, deciding to keep the handgun a secret. But she grabbed a fistful of your hair, most of her materialising back into that swarm as she did so. She dragged you through the halls, her sisters flanking you. You clawed at her hand, but to no avail.

Another swarm got too close, a face materialising. The brunette. She ripped one of your arms off of where it was clawing at the hand that felt as if it was going to rip your scalp off. She held it up to her mouth and grinned. You didn’t even have the chance to scream as she sank her teeth into the side of your forearm, digging in deep. Then she pulled back, laughing. She hadn’t done it to feed, only to hurt you. The other sister came forward, her face materialising as well to lick up the blood that was leaking down your arm. She left little bites of her own up your arm. But these were more like love bites.

Suddenly they stopped, and the oldest released the grip on your hair, using her momentum to throw you into a wall.

“Mother,” she started, “I bring you fresh prey.”

Oh no.

You turned, out of breath from the hurt your body had suffered.

“You are so kind to me, daughters.” She took a deep drink of wine and rose from her chair. “Now, let's take a look at them.”

You didn’t get up from the floor, not having the energy or the stupidity to make a scene right now. Not as she fully turned and looked down at you.

“Well, well. A nobody with no name worth knowing or manners to speak of makes their way to my castle do they? Well, you escaped my little brother's idiot games did you? Let’s see how special you are.”

She beckoned to the blonde and the redhead. They each grabbed an arm, forcefully hoisting you to your feet. You squirmed a little, but their grip was like iron as they held up the arm with the bleeding bite mark. Lady Dimitrescu raised a brow and looked back at the remaining daughter.

“Cassandra? What did I say about waiting?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, almost seeming to be ashamed. “Apologies Mother.”

Dimitrescu gripped you by the wrist and lifted you off the ground. You gritted your teeth. She closed her mouth over the wound and sucked. If you were being honest with yourself most of your blood at this point had either transferred to your face or. . .

It wasn’t important. But apparently you needed therapy.

She dropped you suddenly, and you couldn’t help the shout that escaped your lips when your knees made impact with the floor.

“Just as I thought, nothing special.”

“May we devour their flesh now Mother-”

“But I am the one who captured them-”

“Now, now girls. First I must inform Mother Miranda of Heisenberg’s failure. But soon there will be enough for everyone.” She turned to the blonde daughter. “Bela, take them to the dungeons and shove them in a cell.”

Bela grinned at you, seizing your hair again as she dragged you along, leaving the laughter of her mother and her sisters behind.

***

Heisenberg was fuming. Not that you had escaped his trap. To be perfectly honest there were several design flaws that he wasn’t going to admit to and he really couldn’t have cared less if you had exploited them to get away. If you were running through the village, then something was bound to get you eventually. That was what he had figured anyway.

No, Heisenberg was angry because that overgrown, egocentric, glorified vampire bitch had ratted him out to Mother Miranda. He could just imagine the smug way she had said it over the phone. That grin she would have. He wished he could have buried his hammer into her face.

Miranda had expressed her disappointment in him, not that he gave a shit. But it would likely mean that she would watch him for a while, at least while she had time to spare. Preparing that stupid ceremony would take her a few days at the very least. And in that time she could do anything.

He slammed his fist down on the table. With you in Castle Dimitrescu he couldn’t even entertain himself watching you scramble around the village. Couldn’t taunt you. And he didn’t want to risk working on his army, just on the off chance that Miranda caught wind.

He hadn’t even seen you before that confrontation in front of the castle gate, and he just assumed it was blind luck you’d made it that far.

He’d probably never know how you got on in the Castle, because there was no way you were leaving that place alive.

He looked at the yellow jar on his desk, tempted to just throw it and it’s contents into a pit of molten metal. It would be kinder to the kid than whatever Miranda had planned.

***

You had been shoved in the most stereotypical dungeon in the world. It was something straight out of some Frankenstein-ish novel. Bela had left, promising that she would come back soon to retrieve you for dinner. You had given her your most hate filled look, your eyes promising nothing but violence.

That must have been ten minutes ago, and you were furiously searching the cell. You had found a gap in the wall, and in it a crumpled sheet of paper. You straightened it out, beginning to read.

To whomever is trying to escape this place,

I hope this note will be of some assistance. You don’t know me but you will have to trust me if you want to survive.

First, you need to get out of this cell. Look around for the way, get on your hands and knees if you must.

Then, search for the thing you’ll need to

escape. It will be hidden where they’ll

least suspect, soaked in blood.

The rest of the note was illegible, at some point being soaked with dry blood. You hoped that whoever had written it had gotten out.

You took the notes' advice, getting on your hands and knees. There! Under the wooden board attached to the wall there was a hole that you could crawl through. You got on your belly and went through, ending up in the next cell. You tried the door, and to your relief it opened.

You took your gun out of your boot, preparing to go into the dungeon deeper for your way out.

***

Monsters had patrolled the dungeon. Horrible emaciated monsters that held swords. The first one you had encountered held a sword, and you shot it with glee, picking the sword up. A perfect chance to conserve ammo. It was in good condition too. You sliced and hacked your way through, making it to the second part of the dungeon. You could see the stairwell at the end. Your heart soared. At least until you had to wave a fly out of your face.

“I can’t believe Cassandra caused all this mess.”

Bela. Part of you wanted to turn around and fight her, but you were sadistic not stupid. Bullets against a swarm would be pointless. Instead you ran for the stairs, shooting up them until you came to an entrance that was boarded up. Because of course it was. You attempted to hack at the boards with the sword, but it was already too late.

“Where are you going little one?”

“Oh for fucks-”

You turned to be confronted by Bela, her white teeth stark against the drying blood coating the lower half of her face. She picked you up by the neck again, throwing you through the wooden boards. You lost the sword to the far wall, instead bringing out your handgun as she mounted you, desperately trying to inflict some damage on her even when you knew the bullets would be useless. She just laughed at you.

“Bullets cannot harm-”

CRACK.

You both looked off to the side, just in time to see a window shatter and let in all the cold air. She jumped off and you skittered back, getting to your feet. She was. . . solidifying, only a few lone flies breaking away from her before the cold killed them.

And she was angry.

“You stupid-”

You shot her.

She reeled back in pain, screeching. You smiled, and shot her again.

She charged at you, raising her sickle over her head to slice at you. You ducked away from her and grabbed your sword, swinging it to block her next swing. You kicked her in the stomach, putting some distance between the two of you. Then you shot her again. And again. You could tell that she was almost done. One more bullet or swing of the sword and she’d probably shatter.

You put your gun down on a table, the sword following it.

She was doubled over in agony for the moment, but she still managed to look at you with eyes filled with hatred. The perfect mirror of the look you had given her when she had tossed you in a cell. You laughed at her again, the sound ringing right through the room. You didn’t care if it could even be heard throughout the castle. The daughters had a weakness, and if they wanted to fuck around and find out how you could exploit it then that was their problem.

“It’s funny how things just switch around isn’t it?” You asked her between manic bursts of laughter.

You charged at her suddenly, tackling her to the ground. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she had been. She clawed desperately at your thighs, screaming again as the force she was using caused them to begin to crumble. It was childish, but you got a grip on her hair and pulled as hard as you could, laughing at the screams she made as cracks spiderwebbed down from her hairline down to her eyes. Then you reeled your fist back, gave her one final smirk, and punched her in the face. Her head practically exploded into pieces. You felt yourself drop to the floor as most of her crumbled. Except for one thing. The upper half of her torso had crystallized into something beautiful. You picked it up, wondering if the Duke would buy it.

***

As it turned out, the Duke had his own special room in the castle, and he did buy the torso and the sword. You also managed to retrieve your backpack. It turned out that that medicine was bordering on magical, as the only thing left of the horrible bite Cassandra had left was a scar. Even Daniela’s hickeys were gone.

To your chagrin, if you wanted to open those double doors in the hall you were going to need four masks. The Duke provided the first one, The Mask of Sorrow. He had winked at you, telling you that this would avoid another encounter with the Lady. But when you had asked for his explanation about the events in the village, he simply told you he didn’t have it all yet, but he would at your next encounter. You thought that was bullshit. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And now here you were, reaching for the animal's skull off the wall, hoping that maybe it would have the solution to opening that grate without having to replace the mask.

“I was worried my sisters had gotten to you first.”

Fuck. You froze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was by the door. You looked around the room, desperate to find a solution. You had only narrowly escaped her getting into the room. Trying to get past her while stuck in here would be impossible. Then you felt it. A draft. There was a gap in the wall being concealed by a bookshelf. You moved it, looking around for Cassandra. She was still by the door, taking her sweet time getting to you. You examined the gap. There was no way this was going to be enough to petrify Cassandra. Then you remembered the weight in your pocket. You had picked it up in the dungeon. A pipe bomb.

You felt the air shift, and had just enough time to duck as Cassandra swung at you. Taking cover on the other side of the room, you threw the bomb and covered your ears. Cassandra screamed at the bite of the cold air, somehow being louder than the initial boom the bomb had made.

“You’ve ruined the hunt!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you said happily. “I’m having tons of fun.”

You pointed the shotgun at her as she charged, unloading it into her face. She stumbled back. And you did it again, not giving her time to recover. The shotgun was much more powerful than the pistol had been taking care of Bela, so it wasn’t long before Cassandra was at the same stage Bela had been before you had killed her.

“I take it back. That was kind of disappointing. I thought you’d have more in ya.”

And you don’t know if she just realised she was dying, or if she just wanted to kill you so bad that she threw common sense out of the window, but she charged at you with her weapon raised. You didn’t even move out of the way, just caught he raised wrist and squeezed. It crumbled beneath your hands. She tried to hit you with her other wrist only for you to do the same thing.

“Mother!” She cried out with all the emotion of a scared little girl. “Mother!”

You grabbed her by the front of her dress, letting her see into your eyes. Letting her see the toothy grin you were giving her that was more like a snarl. The irony of the situation struck you. Whereas it would have been her eyes brimming with cruelty and madness before, now it was yours. But you had never been afraid. Not for one second. But she was. And it made you grin even wider.

She called out for her mother again as you dragged her to the wall. You kissed her on the nose, giving her a smile that someone might give a lover, and used all your innate anger and cruelty to shove the bitch against the wall.

She shattered, leaving behind only that crystallised torso.

***

His sister had said she would call Miranda when the outsider had been killed. Well, her words were dealt with properly. Emphasis on the properly apparently. Miranda was supposed to let the rest of them know when the outsider had decided to stop being a nuisance and finally bit the dust.

But no call came. From either of them. Hell, Heisenberg hadn’t heard a goddamn thing from anyone. So. . . was the outsider still alive?

He had to admit, he didn’t expect that.

Maybe he needed to change up his expectations.

***

“So you finally came to see me?”

The final daughter. Daniela. You would have preferred not to deal with her right now, given that her mother had just surprised you and evading her through her music hall had been no small task. She had been angry and seething with bloodlust. You supposed she had learned about the deaths of her older daughters. The fact that she had sent Daniela up against you after you had proved that they were practically useless against you wasn’t scoring Dimitrescu any good mother points.

You shot at the window above. But it refused to break, and the swarms had blocked the doors. You looked around, noting that on the other side, on one of the pillars was a handle.

“Everyone always falls for me.”

You ran around her, gripping the handle and swinging it down with all your might. She screamed in agony, running to get out of the direct frozen wind. To your dismay the handle slowly turned up. Who designed this?

She was running through the bookshelves, trying to hide from you. So deranged, but slightly smarter than her sisters it seemed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I- Why are you doing this?!” you retorted.

You pumped the handle down again before chasing her, shooting her in the back. She darted around a bookcase, circling around you and trying to get the jump on you. But you were ready, giving her another one. You were beginning to get bored of these sisters.

“You three don’t really put up much of a fight do you?”

“I thought you loved me,” she snarled.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything I just said?”

You shot her again. Then once more for good measure. You got up close and used the butt of your shotgun wo hit her in the stomach, forcing her back.

“I don’t wanna die,” she cried out, almost begging you not to go any further with the tone she was using.

“Well you know, neither did anyone in this village or this castle but shit happens I guess.”

You threw the gun down and got a grip on her throat, dragging her to the handle where you pumped it down again. Her attempts to get away from you and out of the cold were desperate, but you maintained that grip on her neck. Slowly, your grip tightened, and you thought you could see the beginning of tears in her eyes as cracks started to multiply on her throat. You did it slowly, savouring the way her throat gave under your hand. The window was nearly shut now. You blew her a kiss, then you balled your fist, crushing her throat completely.

The window shut.

***

“The entire bloodline of House Dimitrescu is done in by the likes of you?”

You smiled at her, even as she stalked you with her claws out. She had caught you while you were figuring out which mask went where. Luckily, being so big meant she was slow.

“Damn right it is.”

“Have much blood and sweat do you think it took to raise those daughter?” She swiped. “You have incurred an impossible debt!”

The genuine sadness and pain in her voice was something that might have swayed someone else, but not you. Not after the Duke had explained what those monsters in the dungeon had really been. Not when you knew the secret ingredient of that wine. Not when that scream rattled around inside your skull.

“What? You want me to feel sorry for you? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness while you slice me apart? How many daughters have you murdered and turned to slaves?” You slotted the third mask in before darting just out of her reach. “You didn’t consider how many fathers and husbands you bled dry in your dungeons. Your daughters deserved to die! You deserve to die! None of you get a free pass just because I’d have sex with you!”

She made a noise of disgust and sliced downwards, narrowly missing you. You darted to the last statue, putting the mask in. The door opened and you bolted.

***

You pushed open the coffin, finding an old corpse clutching a beautiful knife. You picked it up, testing the weight. That is, before you were spun around and lifted by the neck again. Evidently this family had a choking kink.

“You ruined everything!” She screamed.

She got ready to plunge her claws deep into your stomach, but you were faster, instead driving the knife into her chest. She screamed, throwing you through the window behind you. You accidentally let go of the knife, and it tumbled off the side of the building.

You looked back at Dimitrescu. She was in pain, and obviously weakening. But large, fleshy wings sprouted out from her back, a tail soon following.

And then she was crashing through the wall, nothing but a female torso and head on the back of what looked like a dragon straight out of one of your nightmares.

“Flesh! Bones! I will devour all of you!”

“Bring it on, bitch!”

***

“Curse you.”

And those were her last words. It hadn’t been easy, but you had done it. And you smiled at her as you did so. Given that same demented smile you’d given her daughters. You still wore it.

You looked around, still half mad from the bloodlust. The only thing of note was a yellow flask, so you snatched it up, grinning even wider as the wall opened into the outside.

***

Dimitrescu was dead. Heisenberg grinned. Well, he certainly didn’t expect to watch you walk out of the castle through the camera he’d placed in the area. He hadn’t even expected you to have lasted five minutes, but evidently you were made of sterner stuff. He was impressed.

You were covered in the dust of her dead daughters, as well as Dimitrescu's own blood. It made your damaged clothes cling to your form, and as you got closer he could see the grin you were wearing, could see that deranged look in your eye. And then you looked up at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. As if you knew he was watching. Your grin turned into something else, and you brought your palm to your mouth, kissed it, and then blew the kiss at him.

He didn’t expect that to get his blood pumping. Didn’t expect watching you walk away coated in blood get it pumping even harder. What was this feeling? It wasn’t fear. It was almost like adrenaline. Almost like-

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

He needed to talk to you. He would talk to you.

Hopefully he could lick the blood off of you after.

#resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #Mother Miranda #Reader has a crush #reader is unstable #cw: violence #Cw: some torture #cw: blood #cw: blood kink

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oohnoniall · 3 years

Text

The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Four (Kaz)

Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

He hated to lose. Hated to be in anyone's pocket. When a plan failed it made him feel as though he was once more that scared child who had held onto his brother's hand. He felt weak. Weaker than anyone in the Barrel should feel. If anyone had found out about this detour in his plans, he would have already been marked. Kaz Brekker would have been a name that was not remembered despite the fact that he was quickly becoming the man to look out for.

Needless to say, he was in a foul mood.

His hands were steady as he picked up the drink that had been Jesper's. He didn't bother to look at the other man; a boy really; as he drank it. The alcohol burned his throat, he could feel its trail burning all the way to his stomach. He needed that burn. Needed to feel something other than the rage in his heart. He knew that he would never get another chance to break into the Grand Palace and steal the Sun Summoner.

Not that she would even be there.

He had not once thought that the girl would be stupid enough to run. He had never thought she'd leave the safety of the Grand Palace and General Kirigin. Anyone would have known that Fjerda and the Shu would be after her. How she thought she'd be safer on the run was beyond him.

After the showing last night she was in more danger than ever. Kaz knew it would be harder to find her, harder to capture her. There was no telling where she would go or where she would be hiding. Not to mention they'd already ruined the one place they could go and get information. The Little Palace would have been the most opportune place to be for information. All of it would have gone to Kirigin.

They'd blown that cover though. The other guards had caught sight of them, the princess had spoken to him. A stableboy was very aware of Jesper and what he looked like. None of them would be able to go back.

"What's our plan?" Inej stood at his shoulder, his constant wraith. He wondered briefly what life would be like if she wasn't at his side. He was certain that most of his plans would have gone up in smoke by that point.

Just like the one they were running from.

"I don't know," he said, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the empty glass in his gloved hand. He hated not knowing, hated to be on the outside. He never knew what to say or do. Never knew how to feel about the whole thing. It was like he was a child all over again, trapped with those bodies and staring into his brother's glazed-over eyes. Just the thought was enough to make him shudder.

He suppressed the shudder. He didn't need any of the others to know that he was reflecting on things. Didn't need them knowing that he was afraid for once. Kaz Brekker was a man who was driven by fear. Fear of failure, fear of being unknown, fear of never getting his revenge on Pekka Rollins. Fear and revenge ran deep within him. He had a strong sense of what he needed, what he wanted.

Kaz could care less about the money, about the power. All that mattered was making Pekka Rollins pay. He couldn't do that when he was failing at jobs hundreds of miles away from the Barrel.

Inej seemed to understand that he was not in the mood to be messed with. She just stared at him. Her eyes were depthless and filled with everything she wanted to say. He couldn't look at her. Couldn't stand to look and see what she thought of him. He knew it would be the same thing he thought of himself. Worthless, pathetic. Couldn't steal a saint if he tried.

Jesper, on the other hand, chose not to read the warning signs. "We could always stay here," he sounded almost cheerful at the prospect. "This place is nice. We could start a farm, live a quiet life."

Inej and Kaz both looked at him.

"Or perhaps not," he gripped the drink the bartender slid over to him as if guarding it against his two companions. "You'll think of something boss, you always do." Even in the worst of situations, Jesper was a beacon of light in a cold, dark world. Maybe that was the real reason Kaz kept him around. The man reminded him that things were not always as dire as they seemed. As long as they could breathe, they could stay alive. Kaz could think of a plan even when their backs were against the wall.

His brow furrowed slightly, fingers tapping gently against the glass in his hand. Their backs were against the wall. The would-be-saint had run off. But there had been talk of another running with her. The gossips in the bar had mentioned a tracker. One that Kirigin had been using for a secret mission. That was something they could use.

This tracker had to be someone important to her. It had to be someone that they could use. Someone who could lead them just where they needed to be. But how did one track a tracker? How did they find the two?

The docks. They would be escaping Ravka as soon as they possibly could. All they would have to do was wait at the docks. There would be a way across the Fold, one that the Sun Summoner and her tracker would use. The trio could wait for them there, they could become part of the background. It was what they had done for years in the Barrel.

"Plotting face?" Jesper spoke softly from somewhere above him.

"Plotting face," Inej agreed. Kaz could almost hear the smile in her voice. She thought too highly of him. She thought that he was kind, that he was better than he was One day he would prove that he was the monster that the Barrel had made him. But until then he would take this kindness and cultivate it.

He needed loyalty in his crew. Loyalty would at least keep them from deserting him in whatever weak moments he may have.

"Shut up," he hissed at the two as he moved to stand. He gripped the crow's head of his cane, heading outside with purpose in his stride. Inej and Jesper scrambled to follow after him. He could tell they were amused by his actions. After all, it was not every day that he proved them both right within seconds. Normally, he went out of his way to keep people questioning him. He hated to prove people right or wrong. He lived to be an enigma of sorts. If too many people assumed that they understood him, he would never have any sort of mystery in his name.

Upon his exit from the bar, he noticed something that brought an overwhelming sense of both dread and morbid excitement to him. A carriage sat in front of the bar.

A carriage with General Kirigin's crest on the side. The sun in eclipse had never been more deadly nor more beautiful to him.

He glanced once at Jesper before looking away again. Jesper seemed to understand. He slid one of the beautiful Zemeni revolvers from its holster before heading to the carriage. Jesper was the one who could go around it without arousing suspicion. The Darkling hadn't seen him except for the briefest of seconds in the dark of the night.

Inej slipped away from him as well, heading up to the rooftops. The Wraith watched over him as though she were a guardian angel. Kaz Brekker knew that he did not deserve to be guarded by angels or Saints. He deserved demons, monsters. After all, he could rule over them with a smile and a smirk.

While Jesper gathered intel from whoever may have been in the carriage, Kaz slipped away from the scene. Despite his leg, he found that he could travel at a quick pace when the need arose. He wanted to find the General. Wanted to know just what he knew about the whole thing. Even if he knew that could be a death sentence.

Kaz was not afraid of death. He knew that his time would come sooner or later. He just had priorities before the Saints took him from the mortal plane. He needed to dethrone Rollins, needed to be better than every other boss in the Barrel. But most of all, he needed to prove himself to Jordie.

Finding Kirigin did not take long. In fact, it did not take any effort whatsoever. It felt as though he had turned a corner and there he was. Kaz was almost frightened at how quickly he had shown up. Almost, but not quite.

"You," his voice was a hiss. Kirigin was glaring at him, those eyes deep and dark enough that it reminded Kaz of the Fold. "You slimy little rat. Where is she? What've you done with her?" It took him a moment to realize that Kirigin meant Alina Starkov. The would-be-saint.

"She doesn't like being anyone's prisoner it would seem," Kaz stated as he leaned lazily against his cane. While he looked like the picture of contentment, his heart was pounding. He had learned long ago to not allow his anxieties to play on his face. It was easier when he looked as though he could care less about anything that was going on. That and it helped to piss people off. A pissed-off person was more likely to reveal their plans. Pride and anger got more people into trouble than anyone had ever cared to realize.

Kirigin began to walk towards him. Long legs causing long strides. The darkness of his shadows seemed to build around him as though they were living. Kaz wanted to throw up at the sight. "Give her back to me or your friends will meet a very sticky end."

Kaz's stare was bored although his palms were sweaty in his gloves. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run as far as possible from this place. "I don't have the girl. I don't have friends. Threaten someone with something to lose next time." His gravelly voice came out rougher, the telltale sign of his lies. He hated that he still had a tell. He had worked for years to get rid of all of them.

He did have something to lose. All he had built could come crumbling down if he wasn't careful. He'd already put up the club in order to bring Inej along.

Kirigin snarled at him, a curse rising on his lips. Kaz did not need to be warned twice. He knew danger when he saw it. While most would assume that he did not have a sense of self-preservation, mainly because of how intense most of his plans seemed to be, he had quite an intense one. He would not let anyone kill him. Not anytime soon. Kaz was supposed to be the one who brought destruction to those who were not expecting it. He was not supposed to be the one who managed to get caught in the crossfires.

He flung his arm out, tossing down a flash bomb that his demolition man in Kerch had made him. He only had a few left, only to be used in case of emergency. The Darkling baring down at him? Yes, that counted as an emergency.

Kaz fled the scene as quickly as he could while Kirigin was blinded. He found himself back in the square, Jesper stood grinning far too widely with a book in his hand. Inej looked worse for wear, a haunted look in her eye and anxious energy surrounding her. They had been caught unaware. Kaz could not help but to blame himself for it. He should have expected some sort of attack after last night. After all, they had been seen running from the palace around the time the Sun Summoner had gone missing. They had targets on their backs.

"We need to leave, now," Inej twirled one of her knives as she spoke. Kaz nodded once before he motioned for the two to follow after him.

"Why not steal a carriage?" Jesper spoke as they ran past stables, his breath coming in soft pants that Kaz found somewhat annoying. The whole question was annoying. The situation itself was enough to darken his normally foul mood.

"It's what they expect of us after last night," Kaz stated as they slipped out of the town's gates. His chest burned, his leg ached, but none of it would make him slow. Not until they got somewhere they could hide long enough to figure out just what to do.

The three rushed into the forest, taking a moment to catch their breath once they were deep within the confines of the forest. Kaz knew that this was a stupid plan. He knew that they needed to be careful. With the Darkling at their back, they were in more trouble than he had originally believed. Yet, there was nothing they could do but try to find Alina. They had to figure out how to get her back and return to Kerch. They had to figure out if they even wanted to.

Inej was beginning to break. He could tell by the look in her eye and the set of her square jaw. He wondered why she still believed in her Saints. They had clearly forsaken her. So why did she find it within herself to be so pious? Why did she want anything to do with them? With any of it?

Questions he would never ask seemed to crowd his mind. He had trouble with that. He thought too much about too many things. It was normally a useful tool. He was able to see past things that most people didn't. He was able to find the smallest details and then exploit them. It had helped when he was rising in rank. It had helped him to capture the Barrel.

"Where do we go now?" Jesper questioned, his chest heaving as he panted. His eyes were wild, glancing at everything at once and seeing nothing. Kaz knew that Jesper often had trouble sitting still. He knew the sharpshooter needed to feel something moving at all times, whatever it was matching the beat of his heart.

"We continue to the docks. But we do so silently. We'll board whatever we can find to get us across the Fold. The Saint and her Tracker should make an appearance at some point," Kaz brushed the head of his cane off. Dust from his flash bomb still coated the surface. "We stick to the plan. We can outrun Kirigin and his Grisha as long as we keep our heads and avoid detection."

He stared at the sharpshooter as he spoke. Out of the three of them, Jesper was the most likely to be caught. He had a way of drawing attention to himself. That was the one thing they did not need. Having all of Ravka's Second Army coming after them would only lead to losing the club. And possibly their lives. That strangely did not affect Kaz as much as it should have. He was at risk of losing his life every day he stayed at the top of the Dregs.

"Okay," Inej breathed out through her nose, a sure sign that she wasn't happy. "So our entire plan is to wait it out?"

"Sometimes inaction can be the greatest action," Kaz stated as he began to walk away. They had to get moving before the sun went down. He didn't fancy being caught outdoors during winter in Ravka. Kerch got cold enough. Ravka, on the other hand, had nights that were below freezing in the depths of winter. Being turned into a frozen crow did not sound appealing to him.

"I don't think now is one of those times," Jesper spoke as he and Inej followed after Kaz. "We'll freeze our assess off before we get there."

"That would keep you from talking at least," Kaz grumbled as they trekked through the forest. He could feel Jesper's glare. Normally, he would have intimidated him or done something cruel in response. He did not have the energy. If his sharpshooter wanted to waste energy hating him, so be it. They would get out of this alive. They would keep the Crow Club. He wouldn't let them fail. Even if it meant alienating the only friends he'd ever had.

Kaz didn't believe in friendship. It was a waste of time. He had people who were loyal to him. People he could hold at arm's length. They could betray him but they could never tell anyone his secrets. They'd only ever be able to reveal an idea of who Dirtyhands was. No one would ever know the truth behind the Bastard of the Barrel. It was safer that way. Lonely, but safer. Jordie should've been the same way. Maybe then Kaz wouldn't be so alone in this damned world.

Thoughts of Jordie plagued him as they journeyed for three days.

It was three days of hell. Of breaking into random barns and sleeping on floors that smelled of shit and hay. It had been trekking through mud and snow, being near blinded by a blizzard, and foraging for food when they couldn't risk showing their faces in a town. Kaz had counted down the days till they had reached civilization. He had not been made for foraging and hiding in the dirt. The farm had never been what he had wanted. It never would be.

Inej was the one who got them lodging. A vacant house nearer to the Fold than anywhere else. Its occupants had been devoured by the Volcra. Kaz didn't care about the ghosts. The house didn't smell of hay or animal excrement. It would do.

There had been no talk of the Saint coming to town. No one had heard anything about a tracker either. The gossip in the tavern stayed focused on who was sleeping with who, who was with child, and who owed money to the crown. None of it mattered to him. None of these people were important enough to him. They weren't pigeons to swindle or those who would have any knowledge of the would-be-saint. All they were was normal, everyday people going about their shitty lives. Kaz couldn't hate them for not knowing anything and yet, he found them completely and utterly horrid.

The tavern the trio of crows found themselves in was as dank and depressing as every other tavern they'd seen. The lights flickered, the chairs creaked, and the glasses were more grime than glass. It was enough to make anyone's stomach turn. Yet, it was also the one place that reminded any of them of home. The Barrel was home if they liked it or not. Most of the time, it was something that everyone hated.

Everyone wanted out of the Barrel. Yet very few ever made it out. Kaz knew he would never get out. His heart belonged there. All the torn, shredded, dirty pieces of it. There had never been anywhere else for him. There never would be.

"Are you sure she'll show up here?" Inej questioned from her seat across from Kaz. She had a drink in her hands, although she stared into it as though it held every answer she'd ever searched for. He doubted she would actually drink it any time soon. Although, she had been known to surprise him.

"If she doesn't come of her own accord," Kaz began, staring at the patrons of the bar as he spoke, "then Kirigin will bring her. She's his great victory. He's a narcissist, he'll be determined to show her off. To end the Fold and claim Ravka as his own."

"Shouldn't we help her then?"

"No," he hadn't told her of the club. Hadn't told her what was at risk should they fail. No, he'd kept that to himself. It was his burden to bear. "She's the mark. She's not a damsel in distress."

The tavern door opened, spilling fresh sunlight into the darkness. He nearly winced at the golden light. A woman slipped in, a cloak covering her head. He could see golden hair underneath it, strands falling down her shoulders despite whatever attempts had been made to pull it back.

The woman walked with an easy elegance, her feet barely touching the floor as she strode to the bar. He didn't hear what she ordered, didn't know what she said to the barkeep. He just saw the way the man sneered, the way her fingers twitched. Instead of reaching for a knife, as he had assumed she would, she tossed a coin onto the bar.

Kaz knew he should look away from her but there was something there. Something that tugged at his brain. He recognized something about the woman. That alone could be dangerous. She may have been a Grisha in disguise. Someone who was looking for them as a favor to Kirigin.

The woman turned once she got her drink, her eyes scanning the bar and landing on their table. The hood of her cloak concealed her face and yet, he could feel her gaze upon him. His spine stiffened as she made her way towards them. Her graceful walk almost looked like a dance.

A sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach.

"Mr. Vanzin," Anastasia Lantsov lowered her hood, a smile playing on her lips, "I've been looking for you."

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cummingforkylo · 4 years

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If your requests are still open, could you write a Kylo X Female Reader smut with inappropriate use of his lightsaber and just really rough, hot, and wild sex, with hair pulling, ass smacking, and then overstimulation from multiple orgasms? I just can't get over imagining Kylo fucking me senseless until I'm a wordless sweaty mess and cumming over and over and over again while sobbing and not being able to control cumming so much oh god help me I'm a mess for this man im so sorry ugh

I combined a bunch of these because they seemed to…fit together. I created a Frankenstein monster of a drabble. Its reallly long and its shameless fucking smut. I’ve spent the better part of my afternoon on it, I hope you like it!

BegRating: Explicit/NSFWCW: dubcon?, inappropriate use of a lightsaber, nasty sex, shameless smut, name callingWord count: 2,865Prompt: You have dreams about the Supreme Leader, you didn’t realize he saw them.

You didn’t know Kylo Ren, you had only seen him, only heard the stories and yet, your dreams were always of him. You always woke sweating, your legs tangled up in the sheets, your underwear wet, your pussy throbbing from just…dreams of him. Dreams of his eyes on you, watching you, dreams of his hands caressing their way up your thighs. The dreams were filled with the sound of his deep, commanding voice and the buzz of his lightsaber. You hated yourself for it, but there was something about him, the anger, the brute force, the indifference to life that made you ache deep within. So you dreamt. You dreamt every night of what it might feel like. What he would feel like. Every morning you woke up still tired, and the dreams continued to weigh on your conscious mind throughout your days.

One night, things changed though, instead of waking up in the morning. You were brought to consciousness, out of your haze halfway through your sleep cycle. You were groggy but as soon as your eyes opened you could feel something different. Something off, something was wrong. You blinked and sat up, you thought you saw something but you couldn’t be sure. You told yourself you were just reacting to the dreams. You pushed yourself out of bed and went to your table to pour yourself water from the carafe. You stood there in your t-shirt and underwear and sipped your water, trying to calm down your racing thoughts and your excited body. That was when you saw him, Kylo Ren, standing by your door, his eyes trained on you. You nearly screamed but the sound stuck in your throat. You had just been dreaming about him and like a dark apparition, here he was. You swallowed thickly, trying to wet your bone dry throat.

“What are you doing here?” You gasped out, unsure if you needed to call him ‘sir’ when he was intruding on your room. His expression was amused as he raised his eyebrows,

“What are you doing dreaming about me?” He countered. Your insides went cold, it felt as though your vision tunneled as you stared at him and you realized he had seen or sensed your dreams. The fear coursed through your veins, sending icy shocks with it, but even as it did, it mixed with the heat that your dream had produced. The two fought with each other inside you, burning and cool. Fear and excitement. They mingled and became one thing inside of you, raging around.

“I…” You tried to speak and he rolled his eyes, he took the few long strides from the door to your table until he stood right in front of you. You backed up until you bumped into the table and he still came closer to you. In one fast movement he grabbed your hips and shoved you back so you were sitting on the table. “I-I…”

“You…you…you what?” Kylo asked mimicking the nervous way you had stuttered as you sat up on the table and stared into his eyes. You tried to rip yourself away from him, struggling to push back but he lifted his hand and involuntarily your arms snapped to your sides. Your hands felt like they were glued to the table, you tried to struggle against the invisible bonds but they seemed to get tighter and tighter the longer you struggled.

“Don’t you struggle with me, girl.” He snarled, still standing above you, staring down at you, his expression dark.

“Why not?” You snapped, “You’ve come into my room to…to..what!?” Your voice was ragged and you hated how scared it sounded.

“You dreamt of me.” His voice seemed to fill the room without even trying. The deep baritone reverberated inside of you, through your stomach, into your spine. “You wanted this, you begged for more in your dream. I’m merely fulfilling all your fantasies.” He said.

You whined and struggled, but it was a pathetic, feeble attempt to kick your feet. Kylo’s huge hand wrapped around your ankle, shoving it back so your foot was on the table to. Arms still trapped, unable to catch yourself, you fell back against the table knocking the carafe off with a loud clatter. He stood above you and you laid there with your back against the table, one foot up on the table while the other dangled. A sob escaped your chest and Kylo grabbed the other ankle and forced it back, setting that foot on the table too. You couldn’t struggle properly and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

“You have filthy dreams about your Supreme Leader and then want to pretend you don’t like it when it actually happens?” he asked, his hand stroked up your bare thigh in and almost…soft way. He wasn’t wearing gloves and his hand felt hot, and good. You found the will to struggle ebbing away, your legs twitched. You wanted more. There was a gush in your pussy, you were somehow getting wetter than you already had been from the dream. His fingers brushed up your thighs and then back down to your knees. It only took him pressing on the inside of your legs a little to get them to fall open and back. “See? You do want it.” He breathed.

You let out a whine and you looked up at him.

“Should we see how wet you got, dreaming about your superior?” he asked. You wanted to tell him no, you wanted to beg him not to pull your underwear off, it was humiliating and horrifying to even think of him doing it. You couldn’t pull those words out from yourself though, you couldn’t make yourself say it. You wanted it too much. Your whole body was nothing but want now. Your mind was going blank because of his touch, because of his words reverberating through your whole being. Kylo’s hands found the sides of your underwear and in a fluid motion he pulled them down and off of your feet. Automatically, your legs opened for him again and you watched an expression flicker across his face.

Dark power, a deep hunger, tinged with carnal lust crossed his face as you did what he wanted without even being told. His eyes focused on your exposed sex, and you burned with shame and pleasure. You could feel your lips parting and the wetness that blossomed at your entrance spreading over your lips. His fingers found your slit and he stroked his index finger down it, catching the wetness. Your body reacted instantly, you tensed at the feeling of his finger, finally on you. Just that one touch sent a spasm through your body.

“Slut, I’ve barely started and you’re already twitching.” He said. His finger slid back up your slit and then stopped. You shivered as you felt it resting against your clit. He didn’t move it, he just kept it there and looked down at your face. Your brow furrowed, your mouth opened and you stared at him.

“Will you do as I say?” he asked, that voice…the voice in your dreams, the voice that had sent chills all through your body for days. You knew you should say no. You knew you should have been fighting it but you couldn’t say no to that voice, especially with his finger on your clit. “It will make things easier if you say yes.”

“Yes,” you gasped.

“Good.” He said and you knew that you had never really had a choice. Kylo’s finger stroked across your clit, and you gasped at the feeling. It sent sharp, hot, rods of pleasure shooting through your body and your legs twitched open even more, pulling back. His eyes dropped to your cunt and he watched as his finger delicately traced around your clit. Over and over you felt him make tight circles around that extremely sensitive bundle of nerves. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe he would stroke you like this, so soft, gentle. It was pulling your orgasm towards the surface, you gasped and pressed your body forward towards his fingers.

“Ohhh! Yes…” You moaned. Kylo swiped his finger across your clit now, gentle strokes but unrelenting. You wanted to cum so badly, it was so close to the surface. All your dreams and his touch now was mounting inside of you.

“Would you like to cum?” his voice, almost bored, spoke to you from what felt like very far away. You nodded feverishly. “Beg.” He said simply.

“Please! Please…please, I want to cum so fucking badly. Please!” You whined. “Please! Fuck!” you pressed your hips up, needing more. Needing him to run his fingers across your little bud over and over until you could be released from this need. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Please!” You gasped.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, slut. But no. You don’t get to cum.” He pulled his hand away from you and you gasped in horror. Disappointment, and boiling frustration surged inside of you. Tears pricked your eyes and he watched, amused as you tried not to cry in front of him. You barely had time to think about your tears because his fingers were at your clit again, rubbing along the sides, stroking it repeatedly, over and over. Your brain was in a fog, you could only focus on the pleasure and breathing, there was nothing else. It went on and on with you getting closer and closer until his voice floated to you,

“Beg.”

“Nooooo,” you sobbed, because you knew nothing would be good enough now. You whined and squirmed, trying to make the right begging noises. “Please, Kylo…sir…please! I n-need to cum! Please!” You said, holding out the vague hope he would let you.

“No.” He spat the word out and pulled his hand back. You started to sob now, tears slipped out of our eyes and you struggled agains the Force that still held your arms down.

“F-fuck you.” You sobbed, your voice cracking. You regretted it a second later when his hand came down hard on your cunt, smacking it with such force it knocked the breath out of you. Your pussy throbbed with the pain, the sting reverberating through your clit and down inside of you. You choked on air. Faster than you could even pay attention to in your fuddled state he moved his hand to his belt and unclasped his lightsaber.

“You want more?” he asked, pulling it up to you.

“Yes!” You sobbed without thinking. Kylo flipped the saber in his hand so the bottom end was pointed towards you. Your body tensed up and his eyes glinted. You recoiled from you but his hand grabbed your hip, keeping you in place.

“You want more so badly, I can show you more.” He said, you looked up into his face, he looked wild. His eyes were black with lust and the air of power surrounding him crackled. He pressed the bottom of the saber against your pussy, it was icy cold and shivers ran through you at the first touch.

He let go of your hip, trusting you would stay still and he gently spread your lips, opening you so he could press the saber handle into your tight cunt. You twitched as you felt yourself stretch around the cold, unforgiving metal. Your walls contracted, and you were unsure if it was trying to drag it in farther or rid your body of the intrusion. Your breathing was wrecked and you sobbed with need, pain and pleasure as he pressed it in farther. Each bump, each ridge caught against the inner lips of your vagina, swirling the pleasure inside you. It ached so deep inside, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. As soon as it was as far as it could go inside of you he pulled his hand away and just looked at you. He examined his efforts, splayed out in front of him. You legs open wide as you lay on the table, his weapon sunk deep in your cunt which struggled to stretch open for it. You gasped for breath and rolled your hips with need.

“Your cunt is so needy for me, slut.” He breathed as his hand came back to the soft flesh of your pussy and he stroked his thumb over your exposed clit. You jumped at the feeling. That, combined with the feeling of his saber inside of you, filling you up made you clench and nearly cum on the spot. “No cumming.” He said. “I’ll tell you when or if you’re allowed to cum.” His voice was so dangerous, all you could do was whimper.

His thumb stroked over your clit and his other hand grasped his lightsaber again, he dragged it back out of you and then in again, fucking you slowly and deliberately with it, watching as you writhed underneath him. The pressure mounted inside of you, it was so close again and you garbled out your desperate pleas,

“Please, sir! Please! I’ll do anything. I need to cum! Please! I need it! I need to,” you sobbed with longing. All the opportunities you had had to give yourself an orgasm before this that you hadn’t taken flashed in front of you, now all you wanted was that feeling and he was in control of it. Kylo’s thumb stroked your clit and you bucked your hips up into him, fucking yourself on his weapon.

“I need it, yes, oh stars! Yes! Please, ohhh please.” You sobbed, tears rolling out of your cheeks.

“Cum, you stupid slut, cum.” He growled all of a sudden and his thumb pressed against your clit, his hand still using the lightsaber to steadily fuck you. A half scream, half sob was pulled from your chest as the feeling washed over you. The orgasm cascaded in waves over you as you pressed your hips up and his thumb unrelentingly stroked your overly sensitive clit. As it started to subside, the feeling began to be too much and you tried to close your legs.

“You wanted this,” He growled as he ripped the saber out of your pussy. He shoved your legs back and the suddenly the Force locked them open, like how your arms were locked down. You were spread open for him, unable to cover the burning, too sensitive flesh. He stroked your clit, and everything burned, it was too much and you shook, gasping, sobbing, shaking your head.

“No! No more! Please! No more” You begged.

“You wanted to cum, so fucking cum, whore.” He said. His hand didn’t move from your cunt, as his other hand struggled to get his pants undone, shoving the layers of clothing aside. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t recoil. All you could do was live in the pulsing pleasure that wracked your body. Another orgasm mounted and was unwillingly pulled from you, making you quake underneath him. Kylo pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and you saw his wild eyes looking down at it, watching as he slowly pressed it inside. The feeling of him inside you was so good and combined with the constant movement from his thumb against your clitoris it pushed you over the edge again. Even though you were exhausted and felt like you could take no more, you came again. His hips started to move, beating into yours. His cock was huge, and with each time you came you felt like he was breaking you apart little by little.

“Oh fuck! Kylo! I’m yours…all yours…ohhh fuck me! Fuck me!” you moaned. His thrusts were rough and painful in your throbbing, swollen and dripping cunt but it made you unravel around him.

“You are mine, slut. You’re mine.” He growled. He ripped his hand away from your pussy and he leaned over you , looking into your eyes, “Do you hear that? You’re mine.” He said. He hissed out another moaan as your eyes connected and he could see the need there. You were going to come yet again, just from his cock this time. Your mouth opened in a low moan and you clenched hard around him. You found you could move your arms again, he couldn’t concentrate on keeping you held down anymore, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought yourself close to him. His hand found your hair and he tugged it hard.

“Fuck!” He said, trying to bite back the emotion in his ragged voice. As you came, his cock spasmed and filled you with his hot cum. You stayed against him, your arms around his neck and now your legs wrapping around him. He lifted you up so he held you against him, his hand loosening in your hair so he just cradled your head. Your breathing was labored but he held you until both of you returned to reality, relaxing into him. Your room seemed too quiet. Life didn’t seem right because he was no longer inside you.

“You’re mine.” He said quietly into your ear and you were okay with it.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #reader insert #kylo ren smut #kylo x you #kylo x reader #ben solo #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars smut #requests #writing #fanfiction #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfics

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i-watch-too-many-movies · 4 years

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Favorite First Viewings of August 2020

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953) (dir. Roy Rowland)

A bright, bold, surreal musical about a boy who wakes to find himself trapped in a bizarre dystopia where he and a bunch of other kids are forced to play the piano for a dictator. The set design is creative, the characters are weird, and Dr. Seuss’ script is delightful, showcasing humanity’s fear of tyranny post-World War II all while being as playful and childlike as it could be.

All About Eve (1950) (dir. Joseph L. Mankiewickz)

“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night.” Bette Davis is a pure movie star, and she owns it in All About Eve as Margo Channing, a Broadway actress trapped in a sexist industry that decides it’s done with its leading ladies when they turn 40, and forces them to compete with younger stars, like Eve Harrington. A hilarious, catty, and yet dark look at the entertainment world.

Born in Flames (1983) (dir. Lizzie Borden)

An Afrofuturist film, a look at a future that shows that a revolution did happen, but morphed into neoliberalism. It successfully showcases the rage that Black queer women had felt, how they were ignored, and how they plan to revolt again for true equality. I love how the documentary-style filmmaking intersects news footage telling people how great everything is with the injustices of America, particularly that through bosses and police officers.

Elephant (2003) (dir. Gus van Sant)

A cold, minimalist film, one that’s about a school shooting in Portland, Oregon, based off of the tragic Columbine massacre. The violence and the shootings are not romanticized by any stretch of the imagination, as the kids are shown as the uncool, Nazi sympathizing dumbasses with guns that they are. I like to believe that the tracking shots on the kids who are eating lunch, walking from place to place, and developing photographs are Van Sant and cinematographer Harris Savdies’ tribute to the kids who lost their lives.

Losing Ground (1982) (dir. Kathleen Collins)

Kathleen Collins’ semi-autobiographical film, one that shows the struggles that people can go through anytime they date self-important male artists. How they are not treated with respect and are seen as getting in the way of the man’s art, and when they manage to get away from that toxic environment, they become happier. The costume design and color palettes are to die for.

Millennium Actress (2001) (dir. Satoshi Kon)

Another film to add to my favorite genre, “Falling in love in a short amount of time.” Gorgeously animated, and full of ache and longing. It perfectly showcases that quest to feel that same brief moment of bliss and love that you felt as a young person. The work you put into your art stems from the desire to be loved again, as well as from the heartbreak you experienced. Much like Kon’s previous film Perfect Blue, the lines between reality and fantasy are blurred, but the emotion that is felt is the viewer’s guide to understanding where Chiyoko is in her life.

Night Moves (2013) (dir. Kelly Reichardt)

What starts as a thriller about three environmentalists and their plan to blow up a dam turns into a crushing study about the nature of guilt and how it affects the human body and mind. One of Jesse Eisenberg’s best performances, as he perfectly plays a character who tries to remain calm and collected yet constantly lets his own negative emotions and dark impulses get the best of him, and Reichardt’s direction and Christopher Brauvelt’s cinematography showcases a lonely, cold world for the characters of Josh and Dena.

Rafiki (2018) (dir. Wanuri Kahu)

A sweet, lovely Kenyan romance between two women, and much like Gus van Sant’s My Own Private Idaho, it deals with the choice of being able to truly express yourself and conforming in a town that hates you but you must conform to in order to survive comfortably. The colors and lighting pop, and the last conversation between Kena and Ziwi is just beyond heartbreaking.

Safety Last! (1923) (dir. Sam Taylor & Fred C. Newmeyer)

An iconic silent comedy, with Harold Lloyd’s innocent charm and cute glasses and hat making him one of the greatest figures of classic Hollywood. Best remembered for its climb up the clock tower, which is still one of the most thrilling moments in film history.

Sherlock Jr. (1924) (dir. Buster Keaton)

Another silent classic, with Buster Keaton arguably being the greatest stuntman of all time. Silent films are some of the greatest uses of the visual medium, as Keaton’s timing as a comic actor is pitch-perfect, and his direction allows him to perfectly sync up his stunts to the score. I love how heroic he tries to be in this one, imagining himself as the world’s greatest detective so he can finally impress the woman he loves and clear his name.

Shirley (2020) (dir. Josephine Decker)

One of my favorite films of the year so far. A surreal, swampy, sweaty look into the life of Shirley Jackson as seen through two friends of hers that move into her house. I love the way it explores mental illness and isolation. Even though Jackson was a writer worth taking seriously, her husband’s need to control her and her colleagues’ way of shutting her out because her depression is too much for them to handle is heartbreaking. Shirley and her roommate Rose’s relationship is complex and showcases a mutual bond born out of their frustration with their spouses.

Sun Don’t Shine (2012) (dir. Amy Seimetz)

There are no logos or opening titles in Sun Don’t Shine, the film puts you immediately in the violent and worst parts of Crystal and Leo's relationship. Seimetz's direction and use of close-ups on Crystal and Leo's face show an abusive relationship you can't look away from. And yet, those same close-ups show an intimacy that is there, showing how Crystal can fall for Leo's abuse, as his face is full of faux innocence and false love. Now that we know what a garbage human being ex-partner Shane Carruth turned out to be, this movie only becomes scarier as a result. A strong feature debut from director Amy Seimetz, I'm even more excited for She Dies Tomorrow.

Synecdoche, New York (2008) (dir. Charlie Kaufman)

A film about a crushing loneliness that follows theater director Caden Cotard. He can’t maintain a loving relationship with his wife, his daughter, or even close friends because all he can think about how he can use these moments shared with them in his art. If we ever met Caden, we could see him as an asshole, but Philip Seymour Hoffman brings such tenderness and vulnerability to this character, making it one of his greatest performances. A surreal, saddening film, with a final shot and line that will be burned into my brain forever,

Totally Fucked Up (1993) (dir. Gregg Araki)

Gregg Araki’s follow-up to The Living End shows a group of disillusioned gay teenagers, their loneliness and sadness. A beautiful lo-fi aesthetic and a script that perfectly captures the real-life angst these Gen X queer teens had went through, as well as the violence and hatred that was inflicted upon them. One of the saddest endings I can remember.

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butt-lore · 4 years

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Pretty Girl

rated: m

Tags: Dom/sub, degradation, rough sex

Words: 1634

“Spread it open, lemme see that pretty pussy open wide for me, babygirl.” He watches with unwavering eyes as her right hand slides over the curve of her hip dragging long pink nails to grip at her ass cheek, pulling the fat up for him. He hums his approval, his own fingers tracing patterns along her side up to cup a breast, gently twisting the nipple just to hear her gasp. It was Sehyoon’s favorite game after all; just how long can Y/n handle such gruelling foreplay? An half hour of him lazily dragging his long tongue over her clit while delicate fingers find themselves stroking her walls. Only, he grew bored of the activity, not being ‘testing of will’ enough. That led her over his lap, wet hands palming at her bottom, treating it like a squishy toy. Sehyoon would alternate between that and spanking, the occasional finger desperate to feel how wet the action got her. And now here the pair were, her on her side spreading her wet folds for a hard Sehyoon hovering over her, phone in one hand, cock in the other. “A little wider.” her comply with a meek whimper.

This was torture. She felt every clench of muscle send shockwaves all the way from her toes to her ears. It didn’t take Sehyoon long to realize his darling girl needed more than heavy petting and makeout sessions to cum for him. The woman preferred a dirty mouth from soft tones whispered on heated vanilla bean skin. her loved to hear Sehyoon’s appraisal when he grinds y/n slowly stupid, cried for him to call her names, to pull herr hair back to spit in herr mouth, writhed beneath him on herr stomach as he tells her a nasty fantasy. And Sehyoon was more than happy to oblige. Anything to see his sweet girl come undone.

“What would herr family say if these pictures of her got out, hm?” He’s rubbing his bare dick along her pussy, wetting the head with a hiss. “her’d like that wouldn’t her, y/n?” Tears prick at her deep brown eyes, shutting tight to shed them as Sehyoon started the slow process of filling her. “The idea of people seeing you wet and fucked out.” Y/n’s pupils blow wide before rolling back with a deep groan. He stills to snap another photo. “But, her’re missing something aren’t her, princess?” He tosses his phone to the side for a moment to focus his sights on her lips. Dipping fingers between them and sighing as her greedily sucked them to the back of her throat. “Keep spread just like that, gorgeous.” Forest hazel irises soften at herr appearance. This is absolutely the way he got addicted in such a short time frame. Sex be damned, it was this look; drool rolling down herr chin, his middle finger obstructing speech, sweat curling once straight strands, chest heaving, a slight arch as herr torso twists towards him. Sehyoon forever immortalizes the moment with another photo. Then he halts, all pleasure leaving his face.

“You have no idea just how beautiful you are,Y/n.” He removes his hand from her mouth, moving quickly to rub firmly against her ass hole. “I don’t think I’d like it if your pictures got out, y/n.” As slowly as he pushed his cock in her he does the same with his index, a soft smile breaking on pink lips. “Then people would know just how much my baby loves things in her ass.” It's as if he’s lost in thought, not in control of his movements but rather autopilot and muscle memory. “I would hate that other people unworthy of you would see just how well you stretch for my cock.” Sehyoon isn’t looking for a response, knowing y/n was too far gone to answer. “But on the other hand, they’d know you’re only like this for me, right?” She bites her bottom lip to suppress a moan, Sehyoon clicks his tongue. “You don’t have to be quiet my love, I know you love when I fuck you silly.” That’s all she needs before he thrusts shallowly into her hitting that spot, setting off lewd noises that virberate throughout the room. “Moan for me, beautiful.” Sehyoonhyung finally forgets his phone in favor of raking his hands over her hips, caressing her skin till his right hand meets her throat, testing a squeeze and relishing in the look she throws at him. “There’s my gorgeous little whore.” She cries out his name as gospel, begging for release. “Wait just a little longer.” Sehyoonhyung moans back, kissing her nose when he rocks forward. He falls silent again, face scrunching up when she clenches around him. Curses tumble out both pairs of lips as emotions run higher, every roll of his hips into her drives each party halfway insane. He could listen to the soundtrack of her mewling and begging all night.

“Sehyoonah… please.” A broken scream ripping from her burning lungs desperately clawing up strong arms that trap her in the endless cycle of just a hint of an orgasm. “May I-” a rough thrust cuts off thoughts and mumbles, spit covering half of her beautiful face. It’s replaced with his waiting tongue, cleaning all the slavia he could reach, capturing her quivering lip in his teeth. Sehyoon’s pace is maddeningly soft when he pulls back to watch her writhe beneath him.

“Cum beautifully for me, show me how well her can cum.” It’s not immediate, a rolling boil of blood rushing into her ears deafening all around her but him. Y/n would never admit it, call it pride, but she loved this. The complete domination of her body from a man twice her size is less daunting than expected initially. her first time together was slow and sweet, light peks and giggles shared as he held her impossibly close on his couch. A little too much wine and a little more touching got her where she is now. Well that and his devotion to making her cry.

Unsure how to feel when Sehyoon first asks if she has kinks he should know of, she absently prattle off soft kinks much to his dismay.

“herr real kinks, peaches.” His stern tenor matches the hand he held herr chin with. “What truly makes my little girl wet?”

“she'll find them off putting.”

“Then all the rest before me were cowards.” He loves the way her chuckle at that, upset he wasn’t particularly funny enough to make her laugh all the time. “For me, it’s about pleasing the other. No matter how I am, I want my partner, in this case her, to feel like there’s no gravity when I make love to them.” His eyes shine with genuineness, “As long as her cum, that’s my goal. I also like pictures, videos, and a recent kink of making intense love and mind breaking my partner.”

“I like being called bitch and slut and stuff.” Sehyoon’s brows crease. “I like being slapped, not too hard, dominated, but not roughly. A soft dom if her will.” Sehyoon nods, face unreadable. she almost pushed him back to excuse herself back to her house, his apartment rowing too awkward to bear. Only she never did, Sehyoon didn’t let that happen. Instead he worshipped her body at all hours of the night, telling her to cum in the wee morning light. her body was sore through all of work, concerning her co-workers that she was pushing herself too hard again. If only they knew.

Sehyoon quickened his pace to ride out his precious one’s orgasm, watching the ‘life’ fall from a glassy stare. “My fucked out little whore. Did oppa fuck her stupid pretty girl?” All he gets in return are steady tears and drool down her face. A sudden thought hits him as he jacks himself off in her, he shouldn’t have waited for her to take her makeup off, wanting to see how messy he could get it. Since he met the lipstick fatal, colorful lip prints were something he secretly adored even if he bitches how hard it is to get red stains off his dick. There’s nothing he could think of more perfect than this girl right now and forever. The world ended with her. And as he came with her name on his lips, Sehyoonhyung leaned his forehead to herrs.

“Talk to me baby.” He strokes at the matted curls and straight ends, “Hey mamas.” He can’t help but smile on her lips, kissing up her tears, down to her throat, nuzzling his nose to breathe in the soft honeysuckle of her herr wash. “Y/n/n, love.”

“I hear you, shut up, dear.” Y/n’s shallow breathing ebbs out, her mind catching up to hazily take in Sehyoon’s sweaty form. Black hair stuck to his forehead, tan skin of his chest, face, and shoulders flushed red, lips swollen, teeth and suckling marks lined the column of his neck. If her felt fucked out, Sehyoon looked it. “You’re a mess.”

“You make me like this.” She gently pushes her charge off to resituate, but a firm hand on her abdomen stops her. “I wanna try something.” She sighs but lies flat on her back, the pop star parting her legs wide enough to dip his head between them. He’s careful to avoid her clit, lapping his spilled seed lackadaisically from here still sensitive cunt- a mental note that’d this is also something he’d do whenever he came in her from now till forever. The mixture of their lovemaking could be dangerous, he thinks, lifting her into his arms to collapse on the bed, her head resting on his vibrating chest.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you, Sehyoon.”

#a c e #ace stories #ace scenarios #kim sehyoon story #kim sehyoon senario #kim sehyoon #sehyoon #a.c.e wow #wow #dom sehyoon #a.c.e

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dolantmego · 5 years

Note

94 and 95 with gray plsssss ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Alright. This is way too long and this the first ask that I have ever done. So hi doll! Thanks for sending in! I hope this is what you were looking for? Sorry it took so long I got carried away. Also this is the first like SMUT SMUT I’ve done so hello hi. Who knew I’d be doing all these things for Gray first? Lord above.

Warnings: Smut? Language? TERRIBLE WRITING????

94. “Saddle up doll.”

95. “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“Grayson you look like an idiot.” You giggle at Ethan’s words and nod in agreement, giving your boyfriend another once over. He’d forced the two of you to sit in the living room while he went to grab the surprise he’d been planning for the next video. The camera panned between Ethan and Grayson, who had deflated slightly.

“We’re going to the rodeo!” Gray imitates pulling guns out of side holsters and makes small noises while jumping from side to side. The whole ensemble–hat, chaps, boots, belt buckle, the hilarity of it all–struck you all at once. You couldn’t contain your laughter at this point and you start cackling.

“GRAY. THAT IS THE DUMBEST IDEA I HAVE EVER–” Ethan starts.

“ETHAN ITS PERFECT WE GET TO WEAR–”

“GET TO? GRAYSON YOU LOOK LIKE–”

“DON’T BE MEAN BRO ITS FOR FUN!”

“I’M NOT DOING THIS”

You slump back in your chair and listen to the boys argue. It was always funny, when one boy had an idea to do something stupid, the other hated it. And they would go back and forth and back and forth. But as always, lo and behold, a few hours later and the twins were decked out in the most ridiculous rodeo garb you’d ever seen.

Thank god you had chosen to be in the background for this video, because you were able to dawn something a bit more normal. I.e. jean shorts, boots, and a button up. The boys on the other hand–or Grayson rather–had gone all out. Huge belt buckles, colorful boots, chaps with fringe. They really looked dumb, cute, but dumb. But that was half the fun of hanging out with the two of them, they made life interesting.

It took all day to get footage of the boys running around and trying crazy stuff. You just thanked god that the bull had been mechanical. Seeing Grayson on a huge animal like that would have given you a heart attack. Not that both of them didn’t try to get on a real bull. As well as fail miserably on the mechanical one. You had been the one who had made it the longest atop the machine.

“What can I say gentlemen? I know how to ride.” You wink at Grayson, who had been secretly foaming at the mouth for you all day, but after that wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He pulls your hips against him by your belt loops, and wow were you just now noticing how sexy he actually looks in that hat. Ethan groans in annoyance, and grumbles about definitely NOT putting any of that in the video.

The final activity for the day was the one you were most looking forward to, going horseback riding. Luckily not at the rodeo since the boys weren’t into sticking around for the nightlife part of the experience. Which made sense since they a. Didn’t drink and b. Couldn’t drink. Not that you were complaining. The whole day had been fun, but the crowds of people, animals, and food had started to really unsettle your nerves. So a quiet horseback ride with your boyfriend after the camera shuts off was going to be the highlight of your day.

Both boys had lost the chaps by the time you got to the horse ranch. Grayson’s had ripped on his thighs and Ethan declared that if Grayson didn’t have to wear them than neither did he. So you looked like a relatively more normal crew. Or as normal as three teenagers dressed in rodeo outfits with an entire camera crew surrounding them screaming “PEACE” could possibly look.

As soon as the cameras are down Ethan hops off the horse and hands over the reigns to you. Your eyes go wide at being face to face with the prospect of getting on the giant creature. Had horses always been this big?

“Saddle up doll!” Ethan says chipperly. Usually the nickname makes you feel better–much to Gray’s annoyance–but not this time. You look back and forth between him and the horse, slightly panicked. “Y/N you haven’t shut up about this all day and now you’re not even gonna get on it?” Ethan huffs and tries to force you up onto the horse, but you can’t do it. It’s too big. You’re exhausted. This animal looks terrifying up close. No thanks.

“Maybe another time guys. I don’t think…” You trail off and look up to Grayson–still wearing the jeans, button up, and hat–and the air in your lungs evaporates. The sun is setting behind him and he looks tan and perfect on top of his horse. And he’s staring down at you with heat in his eyes.

“Just ride with me.” He says, holding a hand out to you to join him on his horse. You walk over slowly and take his hand, Ethan disappears to return the other horse to the stables. Grayson helps pull you up behind him and your arms instantly wrap tight around his waist. “ Come on mama. I gotcha.” He assures before flicking the reins so the horse moves toward one of the trails.

Once you get used to riding the horse it is actually really nice. The trail leads back through a wooded area, the sun is slowly setting, and being pressed up against Gray like you are right now? Well you couldn’t really complain. This would fuel your cowboy fantasies for the rest of your life. So much so that you’re flat against his back as you can be, peppering kisses on his shoulders, running a hand up his thigh when you can, and digging your small fingers into his waist.

Grayson stops the horse in front of an overlook and slides off the horse easily. He turns around and holds his hand out to you and you swear you almost swoon. How did he look so hot like this? The goofball persona now gone, and now he was just Gray. Gray dressed as a cowboy, but just Gray. Being himself and knocking you off your feet.

“Ma’am.” He says in a gravelly voice, as he pulls you down off the horse, pressing you against him as he slides you down his body. You turn bright red when you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. This boy could go from goofball to, well, daddy, in two seconds flat and it always shook you to your core. He lets you go once you reach the ground, and tips his hat to you dramatically.

“Why thank you…sir.” You return the small playful language and give him a slow once over and suck your lip in between your teeth. He was sweaty and he looked like every girl’s fantasy. You whimper slightly, and that? That is what does it.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and jerking you to him. He’d felt you press closer to him on the horse. Felt the bounce you had behind him. Your hands had drifted down to rub his thighs more than once. This boy is turned on and beyond ready to be inside of you. “Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” And before you can even open your mouth to say anything his hand is in your hair, pulling it back roughly and he is capturing your lips with his own.

You moan into the kiss and that gives him the access he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like the mint gum you gave him on the drive over, and vaguely of the cotton candy you’d shared at the fairgrounds. He tugs on your hair harder and his fingers dig into your hips. He loves it when you make the little sounds that you do, the pants and whimpers of want. You pull back to breathe and Grayson immediately moves to your neck, digging his fingers into your hips at bruising point now.

“Gray,” You pant, trying to get his attention, he hums into your neck, “Gray please.” He pulls back and takes your hand to pull you back from where the horses are to a tree on the edge of the trail. His tall frame traps you against the tree and his arms, his endless gorgeous arms, trap you between them.

“Don’t worry mama I’ll give you what you want.” He grins cockily and lifts you against his waist and the tree, you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist, a panicked look on your face. He chuckles again and runs his nose down your cheek lovingly, “Where’s my brave girl?” He rocks his hips against yours slowly. Enough so you’re eliciting those little whimpers again. “You looked so sexy up on that bull today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you bouncing like that on my cock.” He bites your neck and sucks the skin there hard enough to make you cry out. “But after that little stunt you pulled rubbing up on me on the horse?” He tisks and flicks his tongue before shoving you against the tree harder, “I just wanna see you take it.”

And with that he’s balancing you on the tree and unzipping your jeans and slipping them down your legs. You’re out on a random horseback trail bare from the waist down. And you’re begging him for it. He groans at the sight of you and you reach forward to help him unzip his pants enough to get his cock out.

Despite the fact that you’re dripping and Gray is beyond the need to be inside you, he still reaches forward to drag his fingers through your heat, swirling around in your wetness almost languidly. His fingers brush your clit each go around and you start squirming against him and the tree, needing more friction than he’s giving you. He chuckles and leads forward to get right next to your ear.

“Look at you Y/N. Squirming around from just my fingertips. You look like such a slut for me right now. You want it so bad you’ll let me fuck you against a tree, mama?” You nod frantically at his question and he nips your ear, “You know better than that mama. Use your words yeah?” He slips one finger inside of you and growls when you tighten around him, his cock gets impossibly harder.

“P-please Gray. Please I need you.” You whine, you actually whine form him. Nothing else has your focus at this moment expect doing anything you have to, to get this man inside of you. His finger feels good, but it’s not enough. Even when he adds a second finger and curls them inside you, you only whimper more. “It’s not enough please please I want to cum. I need you Gray.”

That seems to satisfy his needs to hear you beg because the next thing you know he is pushing into you hard and fast. Two fingers wasn’t enough to stretch you open for him and his pace is relentless. You’re sure his groans and your screams echo through the trees, and the nail marks in his back will definitely bruise tomorrow. But the way he feels inside of you makes you feel so full and tight, its got your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Rub that clit for me mama. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He groans, knowing he isn’t going to last for much longer. You reach down with the free hand that’s not wrapped around his neck and rub your finger over the hard bundle of nerves, your body tightens as that familiar feeling starts to wash over you. “Fuck Y/N you’re so tight. Cum for me baby. Come on.”

“I want you to fill me so bad Gray. So bad.” You whimper, and his pace quickens, he loved it when you begged for him to cum in you. You rub faster on your clit and finally hit that spot that has you practically milking Gray’s cock while you scream your release. He can’t take the sight of you coming undone for him like that and joins you, latching his mouth to your neck as his cock twitches inside you and fills you up like you love.

After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, grayson easily lets you down and you wobble on your legs slightly. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist before kissing your sweaty forehead.

“You’re so good for me.” He grins against your skin, and you smile back tiredly. “You’re a mess right now though.” You scoff in mock offense and shove him slightly. He grins and pats down your hair a bit before you smack him off so he doesn’t make it worse.

Gray, ever your sexy goofball.

#this is so much #I'm so sorry this is probably awful #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #ask #dolantmego #help me #sin #smut #ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader

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flowesona · 5 years

Text

Ultimatum Part IV

Yandere! Taehyung x reader

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

With her life falling apart due to debt, she must lean on the support of a man who will reap much more than he sows.

An eerie silence was their companion in the car. (Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to address the sounds she’d heard or his burning wrath. Luckily he’d calmed down quickly enough, eyes set on the road in front of him and his hand gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

“You missed the turn.” She commented, noting that they were in a different part of the neighbourhood than before.

“We’re not going home.” was all he said, still avoiding looking at her.

“Where are we going then?” Taehyung finally met her eyes, giving her a soft smile through the rear view mirror.

“You’ll see.”

✨

The pier was quiet enough to make it a serene setting. The soft sound of waves hitting the shore and the occasional squawk of gulls provided for a scene straight out of a movie, as Taehyung led her along, basking in the romantic moment.

For a second she forgot that she wasn’t here by will. She forgot about the murder, the debt, the cool way the he monopolised her life. All that she knew about him was that his hand was warm and his heart was even warmer.

They sat at the end of the pier with their legs dangling over the edges, a salty sea spray coating the smart shoes they'd worn for the formal occasion but that didn’t matter.

“I love you so much, (Y/N).” Taehyung’s voice cut through the sublime, and (Y/N) responded by resting her head onto his shoulder. She felt how his pulse seemed to increase at her touch like it never normally did. However, she couldn’t stay in such a position for long as she felt his arm dig around in his pocket.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, and now would be a better time than ever.” (Y/N) felt herself become tense, knowing what was coming next. He found a small velvet box and offered it to her.

Her fingers shook holding it, and it wasn’t until she received a slight nudge from her partner she realised she’d been dwelling for far too long. Sure enough, when she opened the box she found a ring studded with tiny gems.

“Marry me, (Y/N).”

“I-I can’t!” Most brides-to-be would be pleasantly surprised but (Y/N) only felt the deepest of dread in her stomach. She wasn’t prepared to be bonded to this man for her whole life, not when she had so little knowledge about him.

“Why is that? I thought we agreed you would give me your heart?” Those words snapped (Y/N) back into reality, as she was reminded that with Taehyung choice was a mere illusion with the power he wielded over her.

“I mean, I can’t accept this ring! It’s way too flashy, you know I don’t want to be a show-off!” Taehyung bought into her bluff easily enough, smiling as he slid the band onto her finger ad pressed a soft kiss into it.

“I think it’s perfect. It can remind everyone of who your heart belongs to, because only I can provide this for you.”

Never had (Y/N) hated Jimin more than in this moment.

✨

“I’ve got to talk with the venue owners about payment. I’ll only be an hour at most.” Taehyung placed a kiss on his fiancé's cheek before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him. Such simple things only reminded (Y/N) how much she was under his thumb, yet part of her was somewhat accepting of it. She couldn’t help but try to normalise their relationship, try to pretend he was the caring partner he presented himself to be whilst brushing aside his more possessive and dominating personality traits.

Today was one of the days she was experiencing a bout of acceptance and love for him. Now that she had the apartment to herself she wanted to explore and find out something about her fiancé that he’d hidden. Childhood photos, a stuffed toy, a diary even. Something that showed his more humane side so that she could fall in love with him like he wanted.

What her search uncovered was quite the opposite. Sure, she’d found some pictures of a dog that he’d owned at some point which made her smile, particularly in the he held the Pomeranian as if it was a baby. Whilst (Y/N) dreaded to think of a future beyond their imminent marriage, the sight comforted her with the suggestion he could be a caring father.

However, hidden amongst other photo albums in his desk drawer was a box, labelled with her name. She forgot all about her search I favour of digging out the box and opening it up. Inside were hundreds of photos. Of her.

Some she could remember being taken. A picture of her sat on their balcony in the morning when he’d asked to capture the moment. Some were less consensual - pictures of her asleep in his bed, hair neatly fanned out around her as if we was being posed for a museum portrait. The worst part was ones that were definitely not taken with her permission. Pictures of her out in public with friends, family - memories of a time before she’d known of Kim Taehyung’s existence.

She emptied out the box with terror running through her veins. Some of the pictures were from months, even years ago showing her with different hair and at different work places. (Y/N) was on the verge of vomiting seeing that they’re connection hadn't begun on pure coincidence through a mutual friend. He had been stalking her for years, awaiting to opportunity to arise for him to swoop in and trap her in his web.

Among the photos was a small USB drive. She picked it out amidst the chaos and booted up Taehyung’s computer, a sick want to see just what he was storing away overriding her instincts tell her to hide everything and pretend she didn't know before escaping at the first chance.

The drive contained many files. As she looked further she realised each was an evidence file, not fully filled out but detailing DNA evidence. The person pinned under every piece of evidence? (Y/N) herself.

He had never truly covered up the murder. Rather he’d hidden it away until further notice, until he wanted to expose her. Blackmail. Just so she could never get away.

It was too late to try to think when she heard the apartment door closing, implying he had returned. In a blind panic she switched off the computer and hid the USB under the mattress before scrabbling to pick up every picture. The blood rushing through her ears was enough to block out his voice calling out for her. She was much too terrified to function, the vinyl photos slipping out from her as she tried to pick them up with sweaty hands leaving the box only half full when Taehyung entered.

“I can see you’ve been up to no good whilst I’ve been gone, love.” The iciness of his voice cut through the room like a knife as (Y/N) stared up at him with a look akin to a sheep staring down the eyes of the wolf. He sat on the floor next to her petrified body, taking the photos out of her hands and tidying them up himself.

“Now, where’s the USB?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Tae.” The eerie calmness of his voice sent shiver down her spine, the excuse falling out of her lips in a desperate attempt to not be a victim of his wrath.

“I’ll give you one more chance (Y/N). Give me that USB back and I’ll go easy on you.” When (Y/N) could not even speak, as a final act of defiance, he snarled and pushed her to the ground, using the weight of his body over her to hold her down.

“You’ve said you'll be my wife. I suppose that means we don’t have secrets between us.” Taehyung leant over to start searching through one of the lower drawers in his desk, an area that had gone unsearched by (Y/N). “We both know that you can’t possibly have anything hidden from me, so I shouldn’t be hiding anything about myself to you.”

He finally found what he was looking for, a roll of duct tape.

“I haven’t told you about all the fantasies I have about you. One of them is to see you all tied up and reliant only on me for everything.” The sound of the duct tape unravelling sparked a new fear in (Y/N), struggling to heave him off her torso, but he was quick enough to tie her wrists together before doing the same to her legs.

“You’re fucking crazy, I hate you-” (Y/N)’s acidic words were cut off when he sealed her mouth, smiling.

“This is everything I imagined it to be.” Taehyung stepped back, reaching for his camera. She glowered as him as fiercely as she could, but he was too deluded to realise how insane his actions had become.

The flash of the camera stung her eyes.

“Ah, so beautiful. You’d be worthy of being in a gallery but this sight is only for me.” Taehyung stared lovingly at the picture displayed on the small screen before it placing down on his desk, his attention returning to his distressed fiancé.

He knelt down next to her, fingers tracing her chin as he whispered into her ear.

“Now, since you’re not going to tell me where you’ve hidden the USB I'll have to find it myself.” (Y/N) squirmed at his touch but was defenceless as his fingers trailed over her face gently.

He observed how her eyes had flickered over to the bed, subconsciously telling him everything he needed to know unintentionally. Taehyung’s echoing steps as he paced around the bed before his fingers inched under the mattress until he found his target were torturous enough but only made worse by the taunting way he held it up once he found it.

(Y/N)’s fiancé tucked the small stick away in his pocket before giving her a look of fake empathy.

“You can stay here for a while love. This is a punishment for us both.” (Y/N) whimpered as he walked away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable on the floor. Before he closed the door he gave her a final smile. “I love you.”

#yandere kpop #yandere bts #Yandere Taehyung #yandere x reader #Yandere Taehyung x reader #Yandere BTS AU

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bts-fantasy · 5 years

Text

Angels & Demons (pt. 1)

Pairing: Taehyung (/Jimin) x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fantasy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold concrete knocked the breath out of his lungs. The feeling of bones shattering as he grit his teeth to stop himself from screaming out loud. But he couldn‘t help the low growl from escaping his lips as he winced in pain. He didn‘t know how fast he had been falling or how hard he had hit the asphalt but he knew that under different circumstances he would‘ve been dead for sure.

No normal person could‘ve survived a free fall like this but luckily he wasn‘t a normal person. Well, he hadn’t been one until now.

The moment he had hit the ground he knew that the life he had known would never go back to how it was.

Tears were rolling down his eyes as he slowly felt his bones heal themselves again. The last drops of his power were healing him but he could feel it fading away with each second that passed. He was lucky he had enough strength to at least survive the fall.

Breathing heavily he heaved himself up only to fall back again but his elbows propped him up.

Kim Taehyung... I hope you know what you‘re doing...

He heard his father‘s voice in his mind again and shook his head as everything started spinning around him.

A face, a smile and he remembered exactly why he was lying on the cold asphalt instead of playing with his brothers up there right now.

„Y/N...“, he croaked out before everything turned black around him.

***

„It‘s sad...“ You spoke quietly to your friend who was moving around the hospital room checking if everything was where it‘s supposed to be. You stood next to the patient‘s bed looking at the young man who was lying there like a rock. His skin was so smooth but pale, his lips were rosy and he had only a little scratch on his temple on the right side.

When he was first admitted to the hospital you worked in, he had bruises everywhere. But over the few weeks, he‘d been there the bruises had quickly faded away without much treatment.

He looked beautiful you thought as you struggled to concentrate on your work. You checked the medications he had to take as you glanced over to the board where the name of the patient would usually be.

Unknown.

Nobody knew who he was or where he came from and he had nothing on him either that would somehow indicate any personal information. No one ever came to visit him and he‘d been lying on this bed for weeks now without moving an inch. The doctors were clueless and there was no explanation for the two, deep scars on his back either.

In conclusion, he was the talk of the hospital you worked in as everyone seemed to spin their own stories about the mysterious patient in room 321.

You on the other hand just liked to be next to him. As weird as it sounded you felt an inner peace whenever you were near him. You couldn‘t really explain what it was or why you were feeling like that but you just did. While everyone wanted to know his identity you just wanted him to wake up and be alive again.

Lost in your thoughts you didn‘t notice how your friend had left the room already and that it was now only you and the man in the room. You stared at him and took in the details of his beautiful face. He looked so ethereal that you questioned if he was even real. The way his long lashes threw shadows on his smooth skin or his lips curved with a rose tint or the little mole on his perfectly shaped nose. How could someone look this good, you thought to yourself.

Your hand slowly moved a few strands of his cream blonde hair away mindlessly. When your brain finally registered your action you retreated your hand so quickly that you accidentally brushed his skin with your fingers.

The touch sent an electrical shock through your entire body making you stiffen up immediately and retreat your hand as if you‘d burned yourself. Breathing heavily you looked at your finger and then at the man in front of you.

Slowly you could see his eyes moving behind his lids and you held your breath not knowing if you should run out or stay right there. In the end, you didn‘t really have a choice since your legs were glued to the ground when he finally opened his eyes to look straight at you.

Taehyung opened his eyes slowly and looked over to the person standing at the left side of his bed. The blurry sight slowly cleared and he was looking straight into your eyes.

Y/N‘s eyes.

His heart jumped out of joy since he couldn‘t believe his luck. He‘d thought it would be much harder for him to get through to you but there you were, looking right back at him with those big eyes. Finally, he could relax. He opened his mouth to call your name but instead he was attacked by a coughing fit that knocked the breath out of his lungs. He still had to get used to being so weak and vulnerable.

Alarmed you reached out for the glass with water on his bedside table and he gulped it down in one go. His dried out throat slowly started functioning again and he started his second attempt to talk.

„Y/N...“, he croaked out once again and you stood there with your mouth agape.

How did he know your name?

„How...“, you started but stopped when his eyes closed shut and he lost his consciousness again. You were left there with a thousand questions swirling around in your mind. A storm had been awoken inside of you and the thought of him followed you even in your dreams that night.

***

The next day your friend came rushing towards you as soon as you‘d entered the hospital. „Y/N! You‘d never guess what happened!“ She exclaimed with a big grin shaking your arm vigorously until you had to tell her to calm down again.

„Sorry. Anyways, he‘s awake!“

At first, you didn‘t comprehend but as soon as your mind had put the pieces together you rushed to room number 321 with your heartbeat increasing with each step.

„...Kim Taehyung.“

You could hear his voice seek through the slightly open door and you figured he was talking to the doctor. His voice seemed softer than yesterday but still so deep that it sent shivers down your spine.

They discussed his condition and how they‘d sewed the deep scars on his back. He was able to leave the hospital soon after the paperwork had been filled out properly.

As soon as the doctor left the room Taehyung sighed to himself and sunk deep into his pillow. He stared up at the ceiling while his mind was filled with a thousand thoughts.

He was all alone, had no identity or money and no place to stay when he gets out of the hospital.

How the hell am I supposed to survive out here?

While he was thinking of ways to get by on his own the door slowly opened again and you stuck your head through to peek into his room. Taehyung couldn‘t help the way the corners of his lips twitched at the sight of you. One look at you and all the worries just flew away. It had always been like that and that‘s exactly why he took the risk to become one of the Fallen. You were worth the risk because he knew you were special enough to be protected.

„Come in, Y/N.“

You closed the door behind you and the room fell into silence. Cautiously you took some steps towards his bed and stopped in the middle not daring to go any further.

Taehyung‘s eyes followed you carefully and in his mind, he just wanted to reach out and touch you. Something he‘d been dreaming of doing for so many years...

But now wasn‘t the right time, he sighed to himself.

„I guess you have some questions?“ His deep voice echoed through the big room and you couldn‘t take your eyes off of him. He had you trapped with his beautiful eyes and there was no escape.

You nodded slowly taking a step forward.

„Who are you and why do you know my name?“

You anxiously waited for him to open his mouth and clear all the confusion that had deprived you of sleep.

Taehyung closed his eyes then opened them again with a determined expression on his face. He wanted to be honest with you but at the same time, he knew that you wouldn‘t believe any word if he told you the whole story. So he had to think of something else to tell you.

„I‘m your cousin.“

He cursed himself when he saw the way you skeptically raised your eyebrows at him. Luckily Taehyung knew your story like the back of his hand.

„You must‘ve heard about your uncle in Canada. Well, I‘m his eldest son... I wanted to work abroad that‘s why I came here and well, I had an accident and it‘s a funny coincidence that we meet here.“ His palms were sweaty and his heart was thumping against his chest. He had never lied before and he didn‘t like this feeling even a little bit. It made him feel dirty inside and it was only harder that it was you he was lying to.

You weren‘t sure if he was telling the truth. He was right about your uncle in Canada but you had never really talked to him or any other relative. Your parents had died early in a tragic plane crash and you had spent your childhood at the orphanage since no one from your family wanted to take responsibility for you. You weren‘t mad at them anymore but you didn‘t want to have any sort of contact with them either.

Looking at your so-called cousin in front of you now you couldn‘t quite tell what you were supposed to think of him. You couldn‘t actually blame a stranger for something his parents did but at the same time, you didn‘t know what he wanted from you now.

„Okay... suppose I believe you. What do you expect me to do now?“ You crossed your arms in front of you your eyes fixed on him as you watched his every move.

Taehyung broke out in a sweat. He knew exactly what you had to go through because of your selfish family and saying he was your cousin wasn‘t one of the best ideas he‘d had. He could feel your growing annoyance towards him while he was struggling to find the right words to say.

„Uhm... I got robbed... everything‘s gone, my wallet and even my keys to the motel I was staying in. I... don‘t know where I should go...“

He hated himself for the way he was improving with each lie he told you.

And he hated himself, even more, when he saw your expression soften, a sign that you were actually starting to believe him.

Your mind was filled with thoughts pulling you into two different sides. One telling you to be cold and rejecting while the other one told you to be warm and welcoming. You were still debating what you should do when Taehyung continued talking.

„I‘m sorry... I shouldn‘t have... I know your relationship with my family isn‘t... well it‘s non-existent. I‘ll find a way somehow, don‘t worry.“ You looked into his eyes one more time and you knew that you couldn‘t just abandon him like that. It was not at all like you to not help someone in need and in his eyes, you could see that he had no bad intentions. They were looking at you warmly and so full of hope that you just couldn‘t say no to him.

„I live by myself in the outskirts of the town. I have enough space for you until you find a place for yourself...“

Taehyung sighed in relief that his plan worked out perfectly. So he had killed two birds with one stone, he could keep an eye on you and also have a roof over his head.

The plan was almost perfect if it wasn‘t for one little snag: he had to keep lying to you and frankly, Taehyung didn‘t know how long he‘d be able to do that.

One week later

Taehyung was discharged a few days later and had moved in with you in your little apartment. Most of the time you both were doing your own thing and would only talk if it was necessary. The awkwardness soon turned into a tension whenever you two ran into each other. You couldn‘t quite put your finger on the problem as to why you couldn‘t bear to look into each other's eyes or felt electrified whenever you touched each other accidentally.

Some nights you‘d lie awake asking yourself if you should be feeling this way towards a family member. The question would keep you awake for hours on end and you hated it.

***

You hit the snooze button growling at the thought of leaving your warm bed once again. Another sleepless night and right when you were able to fall asleep the alarm had torn you from it. You wanted to close your eyes for another five minutes when the smell of fried eggs and fresh fruit rose to your nose causing you to stand up and follow it into the kitchen.

Taehyung was standing in front of a sizzling pan his shirtless back facing you. He was humming a melody not noticing the pair of eyes glued to his back behind him.

Your eyes were focused on the two big scratches across his shoulder blades. It was healing but it still looked so painful and you still didn’t know where he got it from. Suddenly he turned around your eyes meeting his toned stomach and you quickly looked away and out of the window.

Taehyung who had actually noticed your presence a long time ago smirked to himself but didn‘t say a word. Instead, he walked over to the dining table where he had already set up a delicious-looking breakfast. He ruffled his hair with one hand giving you a hard time not to look at the way his muscles played with every move he made. It was torturing you and it seemed like he was doing it on purpose.

In fact, he was enjoying the little game and he loved your reactions. The way your cheeks turned two shades darker or your eyes were dancing across the room trying to focus on anything but him. He savored every second while motioning you to sit down with him.

„This is a small thank you... for letting me stay here.“ He then said honestly.

You both ate and finally started talking freely about trivial things and you ignored once again how good he actually made you feel.

Days turned into weeks and somehow Taehyung had managed to get into your heart little by little. The way he noticed every little detail about you and cared for you made you feel so warm inside. He knew how you liked your coffee in the morning or what kind of food you preferred to eat and he even knew that you liked to take long baths whenever you were stressed out and would prepare it for you before you could say anything.

You had convinced yourself that it was in fact just a weird family bond you were feeling deep down towards him and you ignored the way your heart jumped whenever he playfully teased you.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was getting impatient with the act he had to hold up. Being next to you and not being able to hold you or touch you was even more of a torture than to watch you from afar. He didn‘t know how much longer he would be able to hold himself back. Because at the end of the day, he was only human after all.

***

You looked in the mirror spinning around to look at your outfit from all angles. The floral dress didn‘t seem to meet your expectations for a dinner date nor did it suit the person you were going out with.

You had met Jimin a week ago when you accidentally spilled your coffee all over him. One thing led to another and he asked you out on a dinner in a fancy restaurant. Jimin wasn‘t really a person you‘d let in that quickly because he was quite the opposite of you in every way possible. You liked the summer rain and he preferred the scorching heat, you liked solitude while he always needed someone to talk to. However, since you wanted to prove to yourself that you were open to trying new things and that you felt nothing for a certain someone you had decided to give Jimin a chance.

You took off the floral dress to change into a red dress with a figure-enhancing cut. Pleased with your look you finished getting ready and walked out of your room only to bump into a broad chest. Taehyung looked down at you eyeing your outfit with an unexplainable look on his face. For a second you thought he was in pain but he quickly covered it looking blankly into your eyes.

Taehyung was actually trying very hard not to lose his composure. You looked stunning in that tight dress and he hadn‘t been ready to see that at all. He had no idea what was going on but one thing for sure he couldn‘t tear his eyes away from you. Cursing himself in his mind for being so weak he tried to comprehend the situation in front of him.

„Where are you going?“ His tone rather demanding without really intending to. He saw you raise your left brow but you didn’t hold back the answer.

„I’m going out on a date.“

Taehyung‘s heart dropped at that second and he was sure you could read the disappointment right off his face. There‘s only so much acting he could do and the thought of you going out with someone else just ripped him apart. But it was all his own fault. If he‘d been honest with you from the beginning maybe...

No.

There‘s no chance of you believing anything he‘d tell you. It was hopeless.

He had to focus on the task at hand and just do what he came here for.

„Who are you going out with?“ His deep voice echoed through the walls of the apartment.

You didn‘t understand why he was asking so many questions and it honestly started to annoy you.

„Why does it matter?“ You asked crossing your arms in front of your chest while looking up at his blank face. You tried to read whatever was going on behind those eyes but once again, you failed.

„I‘m just trying to look out for you, Y/N.“ Taehyung replied lowly bringing his hands up to your face but dropped it before he could touch you. You held your breath suddenly realizing how close you two were standing and slowly took a step back shaking your head.

„I can take care of myself, Taehyung.“

And with that, you turned around and grabbed your purse before heading out of the apartment leaving a dumbfounded Taehyung behind.

As soon as the door closed behind you he let out a desperate groan kicking the couch next to him only to regret it later when he felt the sharp pain rise up his right leg. Letting himself fall on the couch he buried his head in his hands pulling on the long messy strands of his hair. He even considered following you just to make sure you were okay but he didn‘t really want to suffer more than necessary.

Looking up and he tried to find something to distract his mind from thinking about you when his eyes fell on a piece of paper on top of your coffee table. He reached out and slowly opened it curiously reading the few lines that were hastily written on it with black ink.

Thanks for the coffee...

Call me sometime?

Xxx-xxx-xxx

- Park Jimin

Taehyung‘s blood froze in his veins as he stared at the paper and the name written down on it.

Park Jimin.

Taehyung grabbed his coat and immediately ran out of your apartment.

He had to find you before it was too late...

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lisetteaman · 5 years

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Sonder

Monday, December 17, 2001

A woman is in labor. She is young and heavily influenced by her parents’ unfolding resentment over her stupidly throwing her life away for a boy and becoming pregnant. He stands guard in the waiting room while his parents stare apathetically at the pages of a Time magazine that is ruminating on the Twin Towers. They sit, indifferent towards the current situation of their son having knocked up a teenager. Her parents barge into the waiting room and start an intense discourse in which each parent is screaming at the other, but no one is listening. Each forcefully playing his own disconnected word as if in a game of Scrabble, borrowing bits of the others’ anecdotes, while trying to see who can increase his score. Amongst all the squabbling, the young woman gives birth to a son, Jack.

Across the hall is a second woman in labor of identical age but antithetical descent. Her parents were extremely loving and unconditionally forgiving, but now deceased, while his are globe trotters who never stopped to watch him grow up. With neither involvement nor surveillance of an upper-hand, they wander into a territory much too young for a couple to embark upon and wind up with a kid, whom they name Olive.

Monday, December 17, 2018 Jack

5:30am His alarm goes off, and he hops into the shower. It’s the only part of his morning routine that he actually enjoys. He takes his showers in complete darkness, the lights off to further exemplify how much his heart craves to slip into the morning air with the steam and melt into the black sky just behind his skylight above his shower head. He looks up and sees the vapor condense to the cold glass of the window-pane. He draws a dick in the fog and goes back to playing with himself. Don’t be fooled: he’s a good kid, even with an immature and slightly inappropriate brain. Don’t blame him; blame his biological sex organ. There’s a pounding in his head. Nope, it’s his father on the other side of the door hammering him to hurry up. Time is always official business in his household. His parents are strict and conservative, of the affluent, conceited type. Jack has no say in this life. It was as though his parents put him in a box once he was born and slapped a label on it, saying: “elite, sophisticated aristocrat” and put no room for failure in with him. They had to. They needed to organize their life somehow, as their parents were hounding them to get their shit together if they wanted some semblance of a successful life. But proof be known, Jack’s parents are now exactly what they wanted to be: rich and famous. It is only fitting that they teach Jack the exact same way to live—with your head up your ass and your ego two sizes too big.

It’s about the hundredth time his father has started this conversation with him. It’s always about the law firm, and how Jack needs to keep his grades above everyone else’s in the class if he wants to get into Yale, like his father, and become the next business partner in the firm. “The board only wants to see Ivy League graduates, Jack…” Jack tunes him out and starts drifting into thoughts that are too conceptual for an early morning without coffee, but that’s how Jack likes it. He likes his brain and all the corners it takes him to. It just never seems tangible enough for Jack to get out of this barricaded city and plan the contours of his life—to go explore the world’s abyss for all it offers in releasing the fantasies that remain dormant inside his head. He’s a hopeless romantic. He has never loved anyone, but his heart, as fragile and malformed as it is, is too gentle and graceful to share with others. He protects it and its sentimental value.

6:45am Although Jack is mostly undisturbed by his parents’ lineage of condescension and economical influence, he does assume the role of a private school boy with wispy, blonde hair and a sophisticated veneer. His driver, Stewart, is parked outside to take Jack to Bradley Preparatory Academy. The limo turns and drives past the Lexington Avenue street subway. Jack turns his head and stares out the window at all the passersby in the subway street car, and thinks of how they all ride around town with their newspapers and their sweaty palms stuck to the subway car poles and their gum shoved under the seats, living in such frustration and haste. He turns his attention back and buries his head in his book, The Catcher in the Rye.

Olive

6:53am She sits smushed between two obese men in overly large, black wool coats, who are clearly failing in their attempt to hide their stress-induced eating habits. She looks at the kid sitting across from her take his gum out and stick it under the seat. She’s sweating and reaches her palm out for the pole to get up and stand somewhere else—not worth the body odor and loss in blood circulation. She hates this route. The Lexington Avenue stop, with all the men who aren’t wealthy enough to drive to work, but just arrogant enough to make her upper lip curl as they eye her up and down before disembarking the subway car. Most people take quick glances at Olive but are too skeptical to trust in how stunningly beautiful she naturally is. She dyes her curly, long hair pink and wears an excessive amount of black eyeliner. She has a septum nose ring in the shape of a butterfly and a pretty bold tattoo of the letter A on the side of her neck below her ear—her mother’s first initial, but some look at it and think of The Scarlet Letter. She’s on her way to work. Her parents passed away last year, and now she lives with her aunt in a tiny apartment in Queens. Her aunt made her a promise that she didn’t have to go to school this year as long as she got a job. So naturally, Olive picked a coffee shop in Midtown. “It’s where all the assholes are, Aunt Grace. The meatheads, the hoodlums, the tourists—they all congregate at my coffee shop.” Aunt Grace is not the biggest fan of having her 17-year-old niece travel right into the raucous of Time Square. She sees through Olive’s chill veneer—her hurt and big brain masked behind makeup and a stellar performance of “I don’t give a shit.” Olive is quintessentially brilliant. She was tested at a young age for an IQ score and found out she was in the top 2 percent of the world at her age. She refuses to get tested again, not for fear that she will have fallen behind, but for just the opposite—for fear that her score will be even more impressive and “they” will sit her in a think tank or ship her off to do long division somewhere until all of her brain cells die. She has read just about everything that has a spine or a library code, and yet, she is rarely amused by any of it. If Olive had it her way, she’d be a starving artist—hitchhiking her way to some rural landscape, finding earthly materials to paint with, and blogging her experiences with people from different cultures around the world.

3:45pm Olive usually walks down to Central Park when she gets off of work. Sometimes she runs, but it’s a cold day out and kind of gloomy. She loves these days—the days when the people seem to be more capricious than normal and she can find a nook somewhere she can sit and watch the melancholy mood dissipate into the grey air. It always seems quieter on these days, more people with their headphones in and their caps on, blinding their focus from the inherit craziness singing in the background. She remembers it’s her birthday. It’s been a whole year since her parents died. She dials her mom’s phone number and listens for the voicemail message: “Hi, you’ve reached Abagail, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, probably doing something fantastical with Olive right now. I’ll call you back when I get a chance. P.S. if this is Grace, you know where to find me.” Olive is not a crier. She rarely shows her emotions, especially to the people around her. But right now, she sits alone on a park bench, bawling her eyes out, wishing time and memory flowed backwards. What a perfect moment to start questioning everything around her—how time keeps getting faster, how babies are being born but others are dying. How the world seems to be constantly growing, and yet, this city has bolted her down and she can’t escape to see what’s out there and who’s living as vivid and complex a life as she is. She starts getting stuck inside her head, trapping her beautiful, yet damaged mind inside. She feels swallowed in a sea of thoughts and tumbling emotions that are rising like a maverick. She can’t contain it anymore. She erupts—she opens her big mouth and screams. Silence. No one is around her. The world has just stopped—frozen in time and place. She turns her head to see if she can move. Nothing happens, no sounds, just silence. Then, wham! A cab flips over and smashes into a tree.

Jack

4:13pm Jack usually gets picked up by Stewart after school, but he decides to ditch his driver and catch a ride in a cab downtown to Central Park. The clouds are hanging especially low, blanketing the city in its sorrows—these are the kind of days he likes. His driver slams on the breaks. However, the car beside goes flying through the intersection, but it doesn’t make it through the red light in time. The cab is hit by a fast moving semi, is vaulted into the air, and strikes a tree upside down. Jack tells his driver to go ahead and turn around to take him back home. The road would be closed soon, and if he stayed at the park, there would be too much traffic to ever get back home in time for dinner. Dinner’s always at a hard 6:00pm, after indoor lacrosse practice, but he skipped today…didn’t have the heart for it.

Jack’s birthday has always weighed on him, but this year has been especially heavy. His parents have pressured him more, his friends are mostly heroin addicts, and the girl he has been inconveniently crushing on for the past three years is stuck like glue to the hot glow-up from sophomore year. He turns his head out the window and watches as the people dance about the street, always rushing—places to be, people to meet, busy lives to attend to. For the rest of the cab ride home, Jack ponders the irrevocable power of freedom and silently cries in the back of the cab. He wonders if there is a person out there that will make him dance.

Olive

11:34pm Olive walks through the front door. Grace jumps up from the kitchen table and runs to her. “Where have you been? Don’t you do that to me again!” Grace has tears in her eyes. She grabs Olive and holds her in her arms. Olive explains that there was an accident near the park, so she walked for a couple miles before calling a cab the rest of the way home. “Hun. You have to be careful. It’s a zoo out there this time of the year and I HATE the idea of you being alone, especially today.” She plays with Olive’s hair. Olive looks into her eyes and starts sobbing again. She can’t hold it back anymore. It’s been a year since she cried—that’s how tough Olive’s cover-up has become, that’s how much time she has spent packaging all of her emotions into a tiny box and burying them deep into a pit in her soul. No longer, she has freedom from her pain at that exact moment. It’s fleeting though. Olive snaps back to reality and pushes Aunt Grace off of her. She wipes her tears and tells Grace that she isn’t hungry and just wants to be alone, again…a ploy to start hiding her true self from those who get too close to her.

She lies flat on her back on her bed and stares at the ceiling. Her mom was a fantastic artist and used to paint with Olive all the time. When her parents passed, she went digging under their bed for the boxes of old school supplies and random crafts until she found these paintings. She had stapled them to the ceiling. Aunt Grace was against Olive putting holes in the ceiling, but it didn’t bother Olive one bit. “What’s it like up there, mom? Is it colorful and just all that you hoped it would be?” Olive has the particular feeling that no matter what she does, everything will always go wrong. It’s like everyone around her is just living such a normal and simple life, but she has these powers to see the future and know that something—her passions, her love life, her job, her cares, her worries—will always go wrong. She’s coped this past year in her own silent, painful way. She wears threaded friendship bracelets and rubber bands over her wrists to hide the pain from the naked eye, but what the eye can’t see is that she is secretly scabulous. She is proud of her scars, of the character and the meaning behind where they are and how they got there. She plays with them like autographs on her body that she doesn’t share with the world. They remind her of her identity and how she got to this particular place of hell in her life. They speak of her brilliancy, of her broken mind and damaged heart. She gets out her phone and dials her mom’s number again. She can hear it ring in the box that she keeps it in, tucked away on the top shelf of her closet. It’s her namesake, and she must never let anyone take it away from her. Aunt Grace doesn’t know she has it for fear she would rip it away from her on a forced path of closure and acceptance. But, Aunt Grace, how the FUCK ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO ACCEPT THAT YOUR MOTHER WAS FUCKING KILLED?

Aunt Grace knocks on the door, and Olive lets her in. Grace apologizes, but Olive knows it’s not her fault. She pats the bed for Grace to come and lie down with her. They stare at the ceiling while Aunt Grace tells old stories of Abagail and the crazy, stupid adventures they would have as kids. How Abagail fell in love so young and then had Olive. How Olive was such a tiny baby, born 3 months early, yet grew up to a be such a feisty, resilient, and brilliant young woman. The world seems to be spinning slower tonight with Aunt Grace sharing her memories about Olive’s mother. This whole year has seemed, to Olive, to be growing faster in time, as though the moon has been gravitating farther from this earth, and so she was spinning faster and faster until now. Now, it finally stops. The moon returns, and there is a brief moment of clarity for Olive. “Aunt Grace, do you ever feel like you’re stuck in one body, occupying just one space and it will never change? That people around you will continue to live freely but you will essentially never grow up to understand the world and what it has to offer? That you’re just a gawky kid from Queens who has lived the same day over and over again and nothing about it will ever change… “And that maybe you’re supposed to meet someone who will change your world? That there is somebody perfect out there, just for you and you’re supposed to spend eternity together, because he is the cosmic balance to your failures?” Aunt Grace doesn’t have an answer for her. So for the remainder of her 17th birthday, they lie together, with Olive’s head resting on her aunt’s shoulder. Olive feels safe for the first time in what seems like ages. She likes it and holds on to that feeling for as long as she can.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018 Jack

10:00am There’s a school trip to the Met to see the new exhibit on Art and Conspiracy, how everything is connected—public policy and the expression of artists who explored the hidden operations of power and the symbiotic suspicions between government and its citizens. However, Jack’s class is comprised of kids who spend their time vacationing in the Hampton’s and whose parents are politically powerful in the Republican party. Therefore, they aren’t interested in artists who unveil how the government is hidden in webs of deceit.

Olive

9:00am Aunt Grace wakes Olive. “Let’s go to the art museum today. C’mon girly, call off work this one time. We didn’t get to do anything for your birthday yesterday, and it’s the perfect day to go. It’s raining and you looove the Met. You can’t deny it.” Olive smiles and already knows the answer. All Aunt Grace had to do was say the word “Met” and Olive would be snapping on her shoes and out the door.

10:00am They arrive with a huge crowd of prep boys from the Academy down the street. Olive looks at them with disgust. “Look at them with their perfect hair and pocket squares in their suit jackets, so precise and perfect. Their lives so plain and planned—destined for wealth and authoritative power.”

Jack

10:38am Jack is drawn to the stunning expression of freed meaning and colorful revelations. He approaches an especially extraordinary depiction of Gerald Ford being pulled by a puppeteer behind the stock mark exchange. It’s exactly how he feels. Someone is pulling on him, his heart, and he can’t see who. He walks towards the art piece. There’s a tall white wall separating the room into two sides. He leans his right shoulder against the wall as he looks at the picture. He stops and feels the wall with his hand.

10:41am The hopeless romantic questions, “Is it her?” The woman who is tugging on his heart and pulling him along. The woman who has been dragging him around the city, pushing him to think that there is more of the world out there than what his school has taught him and his parent have preached to him. More than the uniform thought that people live such boring, regular lives, but that there are people who claim a dynamic life of excitement, complication, and vividness. These thoughts come flooding in; he can’t imagine anything else but that there is someone with just as beautiful a heart and complex a mind as him. A woman who will flip him upside down and change his world.

Olive

10:41am She stands with a white wall on her left side as she stares up at two black and white paintings. One is an alien, and she knows that’s exactly how she feels. An out of body experience occurs. She is lifted up out of her body. She feels pulled along, with increasing thoughts that there is more to this world, to this universe than this one place that she has stayed all her life. There is more out there, a reason her parents were killed by a drunk driver. A reason they left this earth and flew into the sky. There is a person who lives at this exact moment who is drawing her in, her heart, her mind. Then…

The Meantime

10:42am Nothing. A moment of tangency flees from the mind; the simple sample size of the original thought that the people of this world stand still and their lives are of no real meaning, just random commotion, comes back into focus. Jack turns to his left and walks away. Olive turns right and tells Aunt Grace she should leave.

10:43am A failed occhiolism: they never became aware of the smallness of their perspectives, in which they could never draw a meaningful conclusion about their worlds, and how they could have crossed paths and added to the complexities of the world’s great culture. A moment so innocuous, but with a chance for it marking the diversion in a new era of life. Like they just missed their cue. Two people who share a parallel story, harmonizing in what could have been a wilder experiment if she just turned the corner and crossed his path. But life is an unrepeatable anecdote. A universal flaw that the epiphanies of Jack and Olive were imperceptive and fleeting, until nothing was left but the echo of what might have been.

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nightingveilxo · 6 years

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221Bloodnun’s Updated Rec List

Unless otherwise indicated, fics have an Explicit rating, and John is the Top and/or Dom. Categories: Daddy/Sugar Daddy, Captain, DomJohn, Librarylock, Arranged Marriage/Domestic Situation, A/B/O/, Historicals

Daddy and Sugar Daddy John Watson

A Sherlock In Pink by TheSherlocked (yes, me) Ch: 6/? Words: 12,839 WIP

John Watson is invalided home after his time in Afghanistan, a broken man with no real prospects, and a dwindling bank account. Former colleague Mike Stamford introduces him to the most unusual young man John has ever met, a tea shop owner that looks more like a runway model than anything else, but with a mind like a steel trap. An AU meeting, where John comes back into his own, and Sherlock learns some of the most valuable of life lessons.

Everything You Need by Sexxica Ch: 1 Wods: 6,272

Sherlock is the shy little thing that successful and wealthy Doctor Watson’s dreams are made of. Luckily, Sherlock could really use a Daddy in his life and a good bit of looking after.

Sugar Daddy John (series) by Sexxica Works: 7 Words: 22,504

The very best of Sugar Daddy John and his boy, Sherlock.

To A Tee by lookupkate Ch: 14 Words: 15,321

Sherlock receives a text from an unknown number. The man is under the impression that he needs a sugar daddy. After careful consideration…well, he could be right.

Follow Me Down by 221BeStillMyHeart (HighTimesWithHiddles) Ch: 10 Words: 67,725

Sherlock Holmes is a 23 year old genius working as a forensic analyst at Bart’s hospital. John Watson is a 38 year old army captain just back from war, working as the lead surgeon in the trauma ward. A chance meeting brings them together, and no one is ever the same.

A Kept Man Isn’t A Weak Man by Elphen Ch: 1 Words: 20,429 A/B/O

Sherlock is just out of university, but due to drug habits acquired at said college, Mycroft has cut him off, hoping to put a stop to it that way. Instead, Omega Sherlock struggles doubly, both with his cravings and with finding a job that will not bore him to death and support him financially. Then, when he is on the verge of being completely destitute, he finds several hundred pounds ticking into his account for no apparent reason. He thinks it’s Mycroft, but instead he receives an email from someone who promises to send him more money every fortnight and put him up in a flat rent free, on two conditions; he will stop taking drugs and he will occasionally be asked to be a companion for someone. He does not want to be bought like some toy, but what choice does he have?

A Suitable Stain by vitruvianwatson (keepyoueyesfixedonme) Ch: 1 Words: 7,647

John imagines what they must look like–the young, gorgeous university student, naked as the day he was born, draped over the well-dressed older doctor, the muscles rippling in Sherlock’s back as his slim hips roll that beautiful arse up into the air and back down again, his spine curving beneath John’s hand as he moves it to the small of Sherlock’s back to feel the movement. The hard outline of Sherlock’s cock slides back and forth across John’s body, dampening his clothes with precome, and John moves both hands down to Sherlock’s arse, squeezing and pulling him in harder.

Bespoke by consultingbluebell Ch: 1 Wods: 5728

Sherlock is not at all happy about having to wear a suit for an upcoming party, but he might just change his mind when he meets successful and talented tailor John Watson.

A Little Sugar Never Hurt Anybody by beautifullyheeled Ch: 3/? WIP Words: 11,223

Sherlock’s search for a quiet place to study gave him a whole new learning opportunity.

Breck Verse (series) by orphaned Works: 4 Words: 22,363 (Last story never completed, but doesn’t effect the completion of other stories.)Dr. Watson, world-renowned cardiac surgeon, accepts an invitation to be keynote speaker at a medical conference in Breckenridge, Colorado, a ski resort town in the Rocky Mountains. He meets a sexy young bartender at the opening dinner then spends the week making his baby happy.

Wrapped Around Your Finger by MojoFlower Ch: 4 Words: 27,308 (There is a bit too much top!lock at the end for my taste, but the beginning is good.)Virgin!Sherlock, 18 and just out of school, is in Morocco in the early 1900’s to learn about the ways of the world. Dr. John Watson, lately of the British Army and invalided out at age of 36, picks him up in the market place. Lessons (you know what kind) are taught and absorbed. Inspired by the song Wrapped Around Your Finger by The Police. I’d say PWP, except there’s a soupçon of plot, given that it’s a story worked around the lyrics of the song.

Sugar Daddy John Verse series by Miss Lee Works: 2 Words: 6k

A hot little series about the successful surgeon Sugar Daddy John Watson and his angelic, slutty Twink Sherlock. Lots of sex. Just generally a good time.

Captain John Watson

Command Structure by 221b_hound Ch: 16 Words: 49,034 (I’ve read this one several times.)

Sherlock Holmes returns from his hunt to destroy Moriarty’s network. He comes home to John, and at long last they start this thing between them that couldn’t begin while Moriarty threatened them.But Sherlock has returned fractured and suffering anxiety attacks. He thinks he needs discipline - the whip - to help him focus and be strong. But his problems are deeper and run back to a childhood of neglect.John Watson is prepared to be Sherlock’s Captain, but he’s a doctor too. His command style isn’t about pain and subjugation. It’s about care and responsibility: and those concepts go in both directions in Captain Watson’s command structure.

Across Every Universe - Green Eyes at Rainbow Corner by Pmzilla Ch: 21 Words: 21,505 Based on a prompt I created about the WWII song Green Eyes

Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a Naval Lieutenant at American Red Cross Club in London, Rainbow Corner to find out whether the plans for the D-Day Invasion have been compromised by an American Colonel. Whilst investigating, he meets the captivating Capt. John Watson, who finds himself centre stage in both the dance club and Sherlock’s investigation.

Cadet Holmes: A Detective Undercover by Talizora Ch: 1 Words: 6,388

Sherlock took a deep breath and reached out to lightly brush his fingers across the heavy fabric of the uniform. The shudder that rocked through his whole body was entirely involuntary and hateful. He needed to get over this reaction fast because if he was this affected by an empty uniform on a bed how would he deal with being surrounded by fit men wearing the uniforms while they got hot and sweaty.

Captain, My Captain (Part I of The Stripper Diaries series) by twistedthicket1 Ch: 1 Words: 7,845Sherlock Holmes walks into a strip club for a case. He winds up leaving with more than he bargained for…

Night Song (Niht Drēam) by Bashfulbunny (Aequoreavictoria) Ch: 15/? WIP Words: 15,579 A/B/OBattle hardened alpha John’s self-discipline is tested by his overwhelming attraction to Sherlock, a young prisoner-of-war omega in need of his protection and care.

Captain Watson by Sexxica Ch: 1 Words: 5,144Sherlock is bored and it is driving John insane. Time for Captain Watson to take charge.

Surrender (Part II of the Unwind series) by illwick Ch: 3 Words: 13,506

Sherlock and John take a stab at negotiating a kink. Three rounds of filthy smut ensue. (Includes gunplay)Dom!John/sub!sherlock BDSM Lifestyle

A Little Help from my Friends by Ttime42 Ch: 28 Words: 140,776In a world where everyone identifies as either a dominant or a submissive, Sherlock is having a rough time moving on from a bad relationship and has sworn off doms forever. John has recently returned to London from war and has a fortuitous run in with an old friend in a park. Sherlock and John’s lives are changed forever because of that chance meeting, and they’ll both find their way through life with a little help from their friends.

Shames and Praises by s0mmerspr0ssen Ch: 7 Words: 51,919

Unable but desperate to find a dom who will put up with him, Sherlock swallows his pride and turns to Mycroft for help. Shortly after, John Watson steps into Sherlock’s life.

Librarylock Collection of Clues by ianavi Ch: 1 Words: 8,922 (I’ve read this one several times.)

There was no sleeping that night. And not due to the awkward stammering in the stacks of the library. Or the phrasing of what felt as a sudden dismissal. All Sherlock could think about was John’s gaze on his neck, lips, reddening cheeks. How heated he felt under that gaze, how alone when John left. He was itching with desperation to not just be looked at but also touched. It was juvenile fantasy. But he was alone in his bedroom, it was past midnight, and he could indulge. He imagined John’s hand reaching to touch his cheek, his fingers brushing his lips. He buried his head into the pillow and groaned. Could John ever see him like that, ever want him?

A Study In Flirting by GubraithianFire Ch: 1 Words: 5,885

Sherlock is the new librarian at the university library. John is bad with pick-up lines.

Quo Fata Vocant by prettysailorsoldier Ch: 1 Words: 18,115

Sherlock is enamored with one of the employees at the university library, wiling away hours of his days just to catch a glimpse of the dynamic John Watson: captain of the rugby team, event manager for the LGBT society, and third-year medical student. Of course, being only a first-year, it’s unlikely John will ever notice him. At least, until fate (and a little well-intentioned meddling) intervenes.

Careless by lookupkate Ch: 15 Words: 23,652

Sherlock is an eighteen year old student working at a library. John is an army medic sent back to London after an injury. He’s spending a lot of time at the library working on his PhD. Sherlock decides he wants to fuck this mystery student, so he initiates a sexual relationship. He doesn’t really do emotional attachment anyhow, and if he tells John he’s twenty three, what’s the harm? It’s not like he’ll want John to stick around. Right? Right?!?Sherlock done fucked up.

360.5 by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic) Ch: 6 Words: 18,761

One would think that working as a page at the university library would be relatively peaceful, but what John spies through the gap in the shelves changes his mind.

Arranged Marriage or Domestic Situation

The Bachelor’s Handfasting by Jberry Ch: 20 Words: 20,625 (Sherlock is the smolest gay baby in this one, John is an older widower, and I have probably read this fic a dozen times.)

After her son is caught in a compromising position, Victoria Holmes must make arrangements for a quick marriage between Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

A Human’s Prize by clearinghouse Ch: 2 Words: 22,232 (Sherlock is a smol merman, John is a bamf!, and I’ve read this one several times.)

Prince John is a well-travelled man of the world, and yet even he is taken aback when a beautiful merman is delivered to the doorstep of the castle. Despite the helpless creature’s fear of him, John resolves to be the best host he can be for his adorable new guest.

Il Traviato by kedgeree Ch: 18 Words: 68,809 (It’s much like Pretty Woman, but Sherlock and John are very in character.)

A down-on-his-luck ex-soldier meets a wealthy businessman in need of a short-term companion

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria Ch: 27 Words: 95,159 (Another I’ve read several times.)

Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.“The essentials of their relationship distilled through solitude.”–review by Alicat

A/B/O

Siege by PlainJane Ch: 17 Words: 55,410In 1415, English archer John of Kenilworth is sent by Lord Mycroft Holmes from the field of victory at Agincourt to protect a remote French castle. Cherinfourde is under some dark cloud and John means to get to the bottom of it, in his lord’s name. If only he could stop thinking about the most unusual omega he has ever met.

Loving Care by Elphen Ch: 3 Words: 22,124AU, Omegaverse, Modern times with Edwardian social structure.

Omega Sherlock, out of options for another job, goes into the traditonal Omega occupation of male nurturer. His very first job is taking care of 16-month-old Hamish, son of the highly respected, socially connected widowed doctor, Alpha John Watson. He grows to love the kid very quickly, which he hadn’t expected, nor did he expect to fall for the Alpha quite so hard. Much as they hit it off, though, and whatever behaviour John exhibits, Sherlock knows that they are too far apart socially, even without John still being in love with his wife. His time is limited. Isn’t it?

A House in the Country by PlainJane Ch: 11 Words: 20,085

With new “real rape” laws in place, every unbonded omega is at risk, including Sherlock Holmes. He needs someone to help protect him and hide his true nature, but John Watson may be more of a problem than a solution.

Historical AUs (That don’t fit the categories above)

Basically anything by Holly Sykes (Artemis8147)

An English Jazz Player in Chicago by alyxpoe Ch: 16 Words: 29k

Sherlock is a young musician trying out to play with a band in the Blue Room, the best jazz club of Chicago in 1925. John Watson is a older private detective just trying to get by, and determined to keep this beautiful young man at bay--until a murder investigation brings them together, and John can’t deny how he feels. Period-typical homophobia and racism (not from Sherlock or John).

This Man’s Heart by ellie_hell Ch: 24 Words: 72,991

In the latter part of the 19th century, a peculiar solitary man and an ex-army doctor disfigured at war live in a small village, surrounded by breathtaking landscapes. When they first meet, they have no idea their lives are about to change forever and, over the months, they will form an unusual friendship, discover more about each other and themselves, and maybe fall a little in love along the way.

Against All Odds by ravenscar Ch: 34 Words: 126,088 (Read three times, and the quick summary does not do it justice.)

When a Crusader crosses paths with an enigmatic young Briton in the Holy Land, their lives are changed forever.

The Royal Caravan by Service Revolver Ch: 10 Words: 53k

Sherlock, a mere servant, is stunned when the powerful, magnificent King John offers Sherlock the opportunity to join him on a journey. At first, it is exciting for Sherlock to serve such a strong, gallant man, but what is a servant to do when he falls in love with a king, especially when that king must someday sire a rightful heir?

Proper Manners also by Service Revolver Part I of King William’s Castle series. Ch: 2 Words: 40k

Sherlock Holmes is a charming—if somewhat eccentric—nobleman who often spends time with John, an apothecary’s son. When John is offered employment at King William’s castle, however, he fears he will have to say goodbye to Sherlock. But in the end, they might actually become closer than before.

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bluesmemethings · 7 years

Text

One of the Greats starters

❛ So many trials and tribulations have brought me to this point. ❜

❛ I did countless hour specials where I looked like a damn fool. ❜

❛ Ladies, who’s a whore ? We all are, we just need to own it ! ❜

❛ I’m ugly but I’m a whore. ❜

❛ I’m an ugly whore, I don’t care. ❜

❛ Sometimes I feel like everybody trippin’ but me ! ❜

❛ It’s go time ! ❜

❛ I’m still tired and I got 12 hours of sleep last night. I’m still tired. ❜

❛ Who’s sleepy ? I am. ❜

❛ In all seriousness though, who cares about anything ? ❜

❛ We’ll all be dead soon. ❜

❛ Did you fuck my wife ? ❜

❛ An icon within an already iconic city, so it’s like a double whammy of iconography ! ❜

❛ This is interesting. This is interesting. ❜

❛ It’s hitting my eye a little like ‘ ow ! ’ ❜

❛ But that wasn’t all, I also had to do a sound check. ❜

❛ All that was left was for me to hit my knees and pray to god, to thank him for all the humility he bestowed upon. ❜

❛ I guess you could say I’m a direct vessel of God. ❜

❛ I’m like a loaded weapon, and my brain is the bullet. ❜

❛ Do not approach the stage with gifts. ❜

❛ I’m also a huge fan of my work. ❜

❛ I am one of the Greats. ❜

❛ You’re a clown. ❜

❛ Looks like this comedian’s probably gonna be telling it like it is. ❜

❛ I don’t know, I just wish I was someone else. ❜

❛ I wish I was a guy. I just want to feel what it feels like to have male confidence. ❜

❛ My fantasy of what it’s like to be a guy is you just wake up in the morning and your eyes open and you’re like ‘ I’M AWESOME ! People probably wanna hear what I have to say ! ’ ❜

❛ I’m probably gonna do something great today ! ❜

❛ I’m always just so blown away by their creativity. ❜

❛ And that’s my take on a classic. ❜

❛ I hate small talk. I hate getting to know people. ❜

❛ If I’m making a new friend, I just want to already be best friends. ❜

❛ Oh where abouts do ya hail from ? ❜

❛ I need answers ! ❜

❛ Oh ! you guys were a cat family ? we were a dog family ! ❜

❛ Oh my god ! You still exist ! ❜

❛ We should do lunch ! You know, that thing that people who hate each other do. ❜

❛ We should rent a car and drive up the coast ! ❜

❛ Let’s buy some lumber and learn how to build. ❜

❛ I just want to get to know you through task-based projects. ❜

❛ I’ll hug my lover while he’s inside me. For the duration. ❜

❛ I’m not a big stranger hugger. I don’t really want your sweaty armpits on top of my shoulders. ❜

❛ I’ve already hugged someone today, thank you. ❜

❛ I fucking hate parties. ❜

❛ Is that too reductive ? ❜

❛ How much money does everyone make ? ❜

❛ Who’s adopted ? Let’s find your parents. ❜

❛ Why not go big ? Why not walk into the party just dragging a dead dog ? ❜

❛ That will get lips a flappin’ ! ❜

❛ Who is that girl ? How’d she get in here ? How’d the dog die ? Why’s she wearing a cape ? ❜

❛ I just got a dog. ❜

❛ I feel like people who rescue dogs are very mouthy about it. ❜

❛ He would’ve been dead in a ditch ! Then I came along. I’m his savior. ❜

❛ I feel like you’re kind of taking advantage of the fact that your pet can’t talk. ❜

❛ I wish I could text my dog. ❜

❛ It is so irritating to me that I can text everyone in my life that I love except my dog. ❜

❛ What are you doing little cutie ? ❜

❛ Sniff peoples butts ! ❜

❛ Dude, that’s more your thing, that’s not something I do. ❜

❛ Oh, sorry ! I can’t read your mind at all times ! I’m just trying to help out. ❜

❛ You’re looking at my life through the prism of your own experience ! that’s like fucked up. ❜

❛ Try to go outside, it’s so fucking cool out there ! ❜

❛ There is shit you can see that no one else can see (name). ❜

❛ Dude, fuck you ! ❜

❛ We trained him to always sit but on the fifteenth command. I think he’s able to count it out in his head. ❜

❛ Yes, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. ❜

❛ You learn a lot about people from how they are with their dogs. ❜

❛ Please reconsider all your friendships, that’s not what friendly looks like ! ❜

❛ I’m so insecure I will just start to accept whatever they say. ❜

❛ I once was on the freeway and I saw an old man driving on the shoulder of the road, but he was going like 80 miles per hour and driving so confidently that I was just like ‘ that’s a lane ! ’ ❜

❛ Have you been crying ? ❜

❛ I’m hot, this is my world. ❜

❛ One year, as a child, for Halloween I was an old man. ❜

❛ Let’s do this ! I am the shit ! ❜

❛ Super hot girls don’t understand regular girl’s lives. ❜

❛ Alright well I haven’t heard from him in five months. ❜

❛ Thanks for the hot tip. ❜

❛ I’m just saying when I get super dolled up the best I can hope for is someone thinking ‘ oh, maybe she’s a philanthropist ! ’ ❜

❛ You don’t have to do this. ❜

❛ You don’t have to turn yourself into a punchline. ❜

❛ You don’t have to turn all of your feeling into jokes. ❜

❛ That’s cool, you’re beautiful, great. ❜

❛ I’m always just so floored by their realness. ❜

❛ It’s so inspiring, to be so vulnerable with society. ❜

❛ Some brave women are mustering up all their courage and they will post a photo onto the internet in which they are wearing no makeup whatsoever. ❜

❛ Your bravery is unparalleled ! ❜

❛ Please check your DMs. ❜

❛ Partial credit. ❜

❛ It’s a thirst trap, it’s a trick. ❜

❛ I actually think you look better without makeup. ❜

❛ Thank you, thank you. mission accomplished, thank you. ❜

❛ If you really want to piss off a like a model-hot girl, just go into her social media and find a photo where she just looks smoking hot and you’re just a regular girl, go into her comments and be like ‘ people say I look just like you ! ’ ❜

❛ You know that women botox their armpits ? ❜

❛ Because why would you, you know, as a human ? ❜

❛ Is that a good trade ? Kind of a deal with the devil. ❜

❛ She is so fucking hot. Her armpits are bone-fucking-dry ! just like I always dreamed of ! ❜

❛ I’m so drawn to you but I can’t get near you. ❜

❛ This is a whole new kind of juicy booty ! ❜

❛ He’s a surfer. That’s his profession. ❜

❛ Why just because you go onto the ocean on a thingy do you have a dialect ? ❜

❛ I don’t know, I’m old ! ❜

❛ Huh. My god. I haven’t been here in 128 years. Ain’t nothing changed. My god. ❜

❛ Do you think it’s worse to wear a fedora or kill 15 people ? be honest. ❜

❛ When you guys stomp, do your balls wiggle ? ❜

❛ Why not just unzip your pants, pull your balls out and walk around town banging pots and pans. That’s a DIY motorcycle. ❜

❛ I’ve sat next to multiple guys in Daniel Day-Lewis movies where they’re just crying silently the whole time. ❜

❛ It’s like I’m watching a poem for men. ❜

❛ What if I was that masculine ? What if I had greasy black hair and was incoherent. ❜

#ask starters #inbox starters #rp starters

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daily-dose-of-naruto · 7 years

Note

This is more of a personal request since I'm struggling really hard at the moment. Can I have a scenario of Sasuke finding out his S/O is recovering from an eating disorder? ( preferably anorexia, with some purging ) if not its okay. If you dont want it on your blog but are comfortable writing this could you send it to me? Thank you ;w;

Now, everybody, you are going to witness one of the long, long, long reflexions Admin Night writes.

This request was sent when the ask box is closed. However, I contacted Admin Shadow and asked her if I could do it. Usually, we tend to forget laws are made to protect us, and that means that, sometimes, the right thing to do is to bend the rules. I know this feels like a weak excuse. But I the truth is I care about you: even if we aren’t very active, all the admins discuss what can we do to make the experience of this blog more enjoyable. We care about you and we care about your problems. If using a bit of my time to write a scenario will make you feel a tiny bit feel better, I will.

Now, the topic of this scenario is difficult. As a first disclaimer, I don’t have an ED. But, I do have had problems with my mental health, and one of the things that helped me the most was fanfiction. I loved reading headcanons, scenarios, fics and all that kind of writings about my disorder, it made feel I belonged to something. Just for that, I wrote this. I tried to make a good research, and to write about the topic in the better way possible. But, as always, if someone feels uncomfortable, they can contact me.

Also, always remember: you are worthy, you are beautiful, you deserve being here, right now. You are not your bad thoughts, you are not your illness: you can win the war, and the best strategy is loving everything you are. Never beat yourself if recovery doesn’t go smooth, it happens. But you will make it. You are strong and you will make it.

As a final note: this is an AU.

Trigger warnings: Food mention, eating disorders, anorexia, purging.

~Admin Night

[Ten Steps] Sasuke finding out his S/O is recovering from an eating disorder

You realized it was an illness that afternoon. The sky was already turning red, myriads of colors traveled across it: orange and yellow and even a bit of purple splashed it like paint, the clouds soaking in the colors with their cotton-like texture. Red strawberry licorice. Orange cheddar. Yellow fries. Purple cake icing. You were sitting on the bus-stop, recounting both the conversations of the day and how many numbers you had eaten. It was cold; your skin seemed to shrink with every molecule of air, even with the heavy coat you wore. Your fingers drummed against the metallic seat, how much more you had to wait? Your stomach hurt — your mind always fought between the pain and the sensation of control it produced—, but you ignored it and drank a large gulp of water. Chocolate cake and buttery popcorn.

Today Sasuke had kissed you. His lips were warm and slightly chapped. His hands were feathery. You had closed your eyes and smiled and shivered. But instead of enjoying the way his hair tingled against your forehead, you were thinking about it. Greasy pizza and ramen. You were proud he had kissed you because that meant you were actually beautiful —beautifully thin— and that meant you finally had gotten control over your body.

The sky got darker. Now, there was more than a smidge of purple. Grape Soda. The sun was setting. You heard the bus finally approaching, his motor diluted in the many cars that transited that street. Sugary lemonade, anko, vanilla ice-cream. Today, you weren’t going to eat more, the salad you had eaten with Sasuke was enough.

You stood up slowly. But this time, that didn’t stop the trembling of your knees, or the sudden layer of white that blinded your eyes, or the feeling of death that crossed your head seconds before your hands grasped the floor. Ears buzzed, a high whistle breaking your eardrum. You couldn’t breathe. Air wasn’t in your lungs and an acrid taste was creeping up your throat. In a sudden act of determination you stood up and got on the bus; hands burning and eyes avoiding the driver.

This wasn’t the first time you got dizzy. Nevertheless, in the seat of the bus, observing both your new bruises and the old reddish skin of your knuckles, you felt alone, helpless, vulnerable. There wasn’t any control. You were dying. You were drowning.

Then, you realized you wanted to breathe, you wanted to fight it.

The meal was laughing at you, pointing its caloric fingers at your chest. Stomach closed, you weren’t hungry. And still, still, all that your mind could think of was creamy chocolate bathing dozen of cookies. If you ate, then grease would clog your veins, fat slowly accumulating under your skin. But you had to eat; your body was disappearing, you were shrinking into nothingness, and you wanted to live. Or at least, a small part of you, trapped somewhere between your withered organs, did. You wanted to fight for that tiny part. But food meant calories, calories meant fat, fat meant ugly. Those horrible thoughts weren’t your thoughts.

Chest felt heavy. You moved every grain, categorizing them in size, as you had done so many times. You didn’t remember how you felt before this: how life felt before your hands ached, before the pains, before the black hole in the brain. How did it feel when you were you? You turned your cell phone on. Three numbers greeted you, fifteen minutes had passed since you sat on the table. If you could eat… It was just rice, why were you afraid? If you just could eat. Automatically, your fingers did what you always did to stop with the panic: the app opened under your index command, a list of weights, days and calories appeared on the screen. As you read, those numbers you had already learned crossed your mind. Bowl of rice, 204 calories. It was too much. You couldn’t eat. Too much. It meant fat. Fat was bad. They would hate you. Sasuke would. But you were going to die and you didn’t know if that was good or bad. You couldn’t eat. Your stomach was glued. But darkness was horrifying. Almost as horrifying as the sky made of strawberry licorice, cheddar, fries and cake icing. The sky that took the control out of you and that was sucking life out of your marrow.

With hands trembling, you let your finger pressing the icon of your inquisitor. Then, it was out of your life. Tears blurred your vision as you gripped to anything that could keep you sane, the light of the screen stabbed your pupils. You put the cell phone on the table and redirected your attention to the rice.

Just a bit. Even after you swallowed, you felt the food trapped in the throat. Maybe you were hurt, you thought while drinking small gulps of water. It was tiresome. You were going to sleep.

Suddenly, your phone rang. Sasuke had sent you a message.

I have a break but Naruto is a dumbass. Call you at night.

Even in the haziness, you smiled.

III

The first thing Sasuke noticed was how your eyes sparkled. How they acquired a sharp quality every time you were remembering or talking with him. He loved it. The day was bright, rays of sun painted patches of the world in a warmer color, clouds floated in a sky made of a surreal blue. Today, the air didn’t seem transparent; it was creamy, softening the acute edges of every object in the world.

“Today’s very hot.” You said. The statement was true, however, it was strange hearing you say that. You always wore wool sweaters and big, heavy jackets. Even in summer.

He feigned returning his attention to you —it was always on you, his eyes were perpetually piercing your soul, even when he hid his face behind a book—. Your long shirt was rolled up, hair tied in a bun, some drops of sweat sliding down your neck. The bottle of water you always carried was empty, resting against the trunk of the tree, as you two were.

“You are right,” He responded. Wind tossed his hair, some leafs flew in the current. “Do you want to eat something cold?”

Sasuke had seen you eat counted times. You maintained a rigid schedule that he didn’t want to disturb. However, this was the only solution he could think of. You were already in the shadow; a big cherry tree was protecting you from the sun. There wasn’t a better place to stay in Konoha’s Park.

“We could buy something for the two.” You pronounced the words before your mind could process it. That something meant ice-cream, and as you realized what you had said, a small hole began to grow in your belly. You dreaded the colorful stall placed in the middle of the park. What if you couldn’t eat? And the sweet? It was bad.

“Okay.”

Sasuke didn’t like ice-cream, he preferred salty foods. Nevertheless, he wanted to make you happy, and taking into account your difficult relation with food, it was good you wanted something cold to eat.

And your mind screamed as both of you walked to the vendor. This was okay, it was recovery. You didn’t process what flavor was chosen, merely assenting to the man’s suggestion. Sasuke received the cone and paid. This was okay. After days of anxiety, you had managed to eat one full meal at the correct hour. This was recovery. Still, the pain in your stomach and the electricity in your hand, and your heart’s drumming resonating in your bones…

Suddenly, you became cold, all the sweaty, hot skin was replaced for shivering. But you allowed the creamy ice to touch your tongue, and it tasted nice, it felt nice on your palate. Sasuke did the same. And you did. And your stomach wasn’t totally closed.

At the end, you managed to eat half of the cone. It was an achievement, you mused.

Nightmares continued seizing your skin. Food. Food. Food. In them, everything was food. Rivers of chocolate that cascaded in marshmallow clouds; a sun made of corn; a boat drenched in the oily texture of pizza. And in those dreams, you ate it all. Now, they were scarce. As your body reabsorbed all the nutrients you had denied it, the reasons your brain had to reproduce such terrible fantasies were dimming; or at least, you imagined that.

Nevertheless, even if you only had them once or twice a week, they were enough to destroy your nerves. Always, you woke up feeling grease was seeping through your pores. It was all anxiety and pain. Now more than before, as you tried to stop the urge to poke your fingers in your mouth and puke all that imaginary calories that you had eaten.

You had always resisted. You were proud.

Every little advance made the heavy burden became lighter. Nothing made you happier than looking at your knuckles: now, they weren’t red and bruised. Hunger had returned to you, letting you feel a small tug at least once a day. Sasuke looked so much less worried. You loved accompanying him in his walks, usually, he let you take his hand, and last time you saw a smirk on his face when he noticed you never stopped to rest.

After mentally recalling all those little victories, you aimed for another one. A dinner-date. The phone illuminated the blankets and the pillows. You wrote the message, hands still shaking from the nightmare. But you could control this.

Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?

He was probably awake, he stayed up after midnight writing reports. Still, your lungs turned heavy when you read his answer.

Yes. I’ll make time.

You feared the bloating. You hated it. Before you date with Sasuke, you rummaged all your closet, searching for something, anything, that didn’t show your grown belly. Maybe going back to it was better? With time, all your clothes would be too small, and then everybody would hate you. You chose that ample dress he liked so much, but now, it wasn’t that ample. You felt tired, air heavy and blood rushing through your veins.

Maybe it was too early for this? Still, you continued. Waiting, sighing. The taste of your saliva, his knocking.

Sasuke leaned in the frame of the front door, waiting for you to arrive. Your steps were a little shorter and slower than you would have wanted, you felt like walking to the gibbet. But you got to the door. You opened. He looked at you. Sasuke’s eyes always left the sensation of coal burning in the flames, always pierced to the deepest part of your flesh. He wore one of his more formal shirts, which amazed you, taking into account how improvised your date was.

“You are beautiful.”

Those words were like a caress every time Sasuke said them, even if he had muttered them. You wished you had found them true, even just once.

The drive to the restaurant was slow. Sasuke’s expression rapidly became grim, somber; you fidgeted with your seat belt and looked through the window with an expression of profound fear in your features. You had never eaten a full dinner. Now, you were scared. And nervous, and anxious, and bloated.

“You were awake rather late yesterday.” His voice penetrated your panic.

This was the first time you had contacted him after a nightmare. He didn’t know anything. Although you knew he wasn’t stupid, you never tried to confess him the true.

“I had a nightmare. But everything is okay now.”

He hummed. That ended the conversation. Sasuke was annoyed at his inability to talk. Just a stare to your trembling hands and white face was enough to realize everything wasn’t okay.

The rest of the ride was a blur. How you entered the restaurant and whatever Sasuke had asked you in those lapses was also blurry. The only thing that appeared horrifyingly real was the menu in front of you. The menu that extended to the clash of glasses, the smell of meat, the dancing light of the candles, and the torturous music that spread from the speakers.

You had promised yourself you were going to choose whatever sounded more delicious, but every word in that booklet appeared to be a synonym of death.

“What are you going to ask?” You questioned Sasuke, ready to emulate his order.

You heard what he had chosen and repeated it in your mind like a chant. Then, you repeated it to the waiter, with your lips contorted in a fake smile.

“(Y/N), in there anything you want to tell me?”

Had he discovered it?

“What make you think that?” You answered, letting the façade you had used for so much resurface.

“You don’t like to eat outside.”

The giggle that left your mouth was thunderous. He sent you a questioning look that you overlooked while diverting the conversation.

The food came. You looked at it again and again and again. At some point, you heard Sasuke’s voice, is there something wrong? But you ignored it and smiled and took the first piece to your mouth and chewed and swallowed it — even when your throat was completely closed— and took another and chewed and swallowed and took a sip of wine. The drink was Sasuke’s idea, he was glad you were eating dinner together. And you ate and tried to answer his questions and smelled fish from the other side of the restaurant and chewed and swallowed and drank and smiled and let the music daze you and chewed and swallowed and tried to stop the acrid taste in your throat and ate and chewed and drank and-

You couldn’t breathe. The plate was empty. You looked at Sasuke, sitting at the other side of the table. You had a bloated stomach, why had you done this? Heart throbbing in your neck.

“Give me five minutes, I have to go to the restroom.”

You prayed the lack of composure didn’t show as you walked away from the table. Heart ached, head ached. Everything was hazy. You had eaten everything, too much. Your stomach was giant. You closed the door and sat on the floor, chin resting on the seat of the toilet.

After a final sigh, you entered your fingers into your mouth. Deeper and deeper, nausea, acid slowly rising from your stomach. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit.

When your stomach finally emptied, you fell into despair. What had you done? Everything was going so well and now… now you were trapped in the beginning. You didn’t even think about cleaning your face or your mouth, instead, you just cried. Tears from the anxiety, tears from the shame, tears from the pain. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to do it…

Sasuke waited for you. Five minutes passed, and ten, and fifteen. He glanced at the restroom door every time the minute hand of his watch moved. At sixteen minutes he went to look for you. He knocked at the door, no answer, just this inaudible wailing he knew was yours. He didn’t have to force the door, you had forgotten to lock it.

And there, in that small room, surrounded by an acrid smell, staring at your eyes, Sasuke understood everything.

Sasuke lifted you from the floor with shaking hands. With shaking hands he flushed the toilet. With shaking hands he cleaned your face and paid the bill and drove back to your home. He didn’t utter a word. How could he? He was so stupid, ignorant, negligent. Everything matched. It was so obvious and he had failed to protect you. And damn it, his hands had to stop shaking.

All that time, while you let him lead you, your mind intonated the same chant: he hates me. Hates me. Hates me. Hates me. Hates me. And why wouldn’t he, you also hated yourself. You had failed. It was too hard, you were going to shrink to death. Tears never stopped staining your cheeks. His hands held the wheel extremely hard, the knuckles were white. Your lungs were too busy choking for managing to utter any word.

He also led you to your house, taking the keys from your trembling hands and opening the door. The two entered. And, finally, you found yourself in your bed, Sasuke holding you in his arms, tight enough to relieve the tingling that pierced all your body. His body was still, extremely stiff, and he didn’t move until your breathing had become somewhat normal.

He didn’t ask for details. He only made one question.

“How can I help you?” The words were pronounced slowly, dragging the syllables, as if it was hard to speak. Almost at the end of the sentence, his voice broke slightly.

It was enough to make you cry again.

“I don’t know.”

His embrace tightened. Right hand combing through your hair, left hand drawing circles in your back. Trapped in his chest, you couldn’t see his eyes.

You told him everything, every word that left your mouth carried the acid taste of puke. But as the last confession left your mouth, you felt a heavy weight disappearing from your heart.

VII

“Is it time to eat?” You asked, answering your boyfriend’s phone call.

Sasuke had done it the last months. He called you for the three big meals of the day, asking about your day and your overall mood. Sometimes, he didn’t tell you to eat, instead, he stayed on the line listening to your ramblings.

You knew it wasn’t time to eat. The clock marked six, there were still two hours before dinner.

“It isn’t. You already know,” He stated, letting silence follow the sentence before continuing, “I finished early today. Do you want to do something?” As he concluded his question, you heard a knock on your door.

“Well, you are here.” You hung up without a farewell. Either way, Sasuke was at your side now.

He entered to your house without much parsimony. He was already used to it.

“Let’s go for a walk.” He said. You knew that was Sasuke’s way of making questions. He would change the plan if you did as much as sigh.

“I’d love to.”

You promenaded under a boulevard adorned with cherry trees. Their leaves were green and there were already red dots growing from their branches. Sasuke’s hand was a bit sweaty, but that was okay, as, with the heat of the summer, yours was too. He walked slowly, trying to inhale all the landscape that rose around him, still, one of his strides, meant two steps for you. You stayed silent most of the time, enjoying the other’s company. At your right side, a stall of food spread its smell. But this time, it didn’t faze you. Instead, you continued admiring Sasuke’s hand. He, on the other hand, walked a little faster, trying to take you away from the odor.

Sasuke stopped when you were away from most of the people. A nervousness you hadn’t perceived apparent now in his eyes. He never left your hand.

“Is there something wrong, Sasuke?”

He kissed you. Firm arms, chapped lips, warm breath. You smiled and giggled. There wasn’t much of a reason, you just felt happy. He smiled too.

“Come live with me.” That was also a question. Even if he had disguised it as an order.

You kissed him again. A layer of sweat, warm tongue, feathery fingers, tense jaw.

“I will.”

That day, you dined together. You didn’t notice the nervousness, too busy making plans for your future.

VIII

Sasuke felt a harder hold on his hand as you approached the cinema. You dreaded going to the movies, it meant the sweet smell of popcorn and the pressure of consuming more food than you could resist. The movie wasn’t worth it, especially when your concentration decreased in the first quarter of the movie.

Nevertheless, things were different now.

You bought the tickets and entered to the confectionery. Sasuke stared at you with his dark, preoccupied eyes. You were anxious, afraid you weren’t capable of this yet.

“I’m going to buy the food.”

You had planned everything before coming. It calmed you, giving you a sense of control. Nevertheless, he waited for you to change your wishes, maybe you weren’t ready to eat.

“Okay.”

You sat and waited for him to return. Funny enough, the odors weren’t bothering you. Still, for safety, you let your mind wander. There wasn’t food in your brain. There were books and gifts and kisses. For the first time in your life, you imagined your older self: married to Sasuke, with a pet and a successful career. You weren’t tiny and invisible anymore; life run through your veins, and you felt complete.

Sasuke startled you when he came back. Popcorn and two iced teas in his arms.

“Let’s enter now.”

“How are you?” Sasuke asked, watching you with attention.

Something paralyzed your vocal chords. But you were happy, so very happy. The plate in front of you was empty. This was the tenth consecutive day you had managed to eat a whole dinner, without feeling any kind of distress afterward. And today, finally, a feeling of contempt had filled you when you were full. This was what you had forgotten. Your fingers grazed his, your smile enough to tranquilize him.

“I still have space for the dessert.”

His kisses were wet, his caresses plumed. Sasuke’s fingers traveled across all your body, making silent compliments in all your skin.

“I love you.” He mumbled against your neck, his lips moving in your skin.

“I love you too.” Happiness was tangling in your chest. Salty tears rimmed your eyes. “I love you so much.”

You stirred in bed. Over your skin, the blanket felt soft and warm. Fluffy caresses engulfed your legs as you moved them across the mattress. Sunrays seeped through the curtains. With a little concentration, you could even see small particles of dust dancing in the light. Before you moved to sit up, a grunt reverberated against your neck. Sasuke made his embrace tighter, his breaths lifting some strands of your hair. Yes, he wasn’t a morning person. You turned around and faced him. Eyelids fluttering and a pout. His chest slowly rising and sinking with every breath. You kissed his nose and his eyes and his cheeks.

“Good morning, Sasuke.”

This morning you felt happy, energized. Mind already making a million of plans for the day. It was Sunday, but the day to come was still exciting.

“Stay in bed,” he mumbled as a response, nuzzling your shoulder. That was the way he showed love. His fingers were making little arabesques in your back.

“Just for a while,” you said, as his sleepy state infected you. You curled up on his chest, letting his heartbeat lull you. “I have to make breakfast.”

Everything was so soft, so warm, so creamy…

Both of you woke up when the sun crashed directly against your eyes. Sasuke tried to hide in your chest, his eyelashes tickling your skin. However, he admitted defeat with a single huff; then he stretched his arms, letting sleep slip off his body. You, on the contrary, accepted the light with a smile, a last yawn escaped your mouth before you jumped away from the pillow. He looked at you while still lying down on the bed. His eyes, even now, sent electricity to your nerves.

“Morning.”

He was answering to your words from earlier that day. That was all you would get.

“I’m hungry. I’m making breakfast.”

You threw him another smile and gave him a small kiss on the lips. Knowing him, he would stay another five minutes in the bed, mourning the lost sleep. The floor was smooth against your feet. A song left your lips as you walked to the kitchen, content bubbling in your chest.

“Do you need any help?”

Today, Sasuke was quick. He had followed your steps shortly after you left. It was nice. His raspy morning voice was nice.

And, in the counter, while wondering what to cook you realized: there wasn’t any anxiety, or fear, or pain. There was only peace. A warm peace that grew in all your limbs.

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