#maybe because your attitude sucks. maybe because i said 'those mean things you say about yourself arent true'

[epicsauce]

learning that self deprecation isnt cool and just makes the people around you uncomfortable unironically improved my mental health a lot. like if you just stop saying negative shit about yourself you will genuinely like yourself more and other people wont be repulsed by your attitude and you will have more friends. it's true.

[hightwers]

ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT ─── DBF! DILF!ANAKIN SKYWALKER

summary: dad's been friends with anakin forever, of course you've always had a crush on him, who wouldn't, i mean, look at him. and yeah, guys your age are fine, but maybe you just need someone... older. warnings: age gaps ( reader is 18+ ), unprotected sex ( wrap it up before you tap it ! ) mentions of handjobs, mentions of blowjobs, p in v sex, pussy eating, fingering, inappropriate relationships and minors dni; ageless blogs will be blocked.

it was her first summer she didn't go to her mother's; and this had been premeditated, of course. this was the first year she was old enough for her dad's best friend anakin. to be truthful, she'd always noticed that the girls he brought around were always a little young.

younger than him, much younger than him. not that anakin was old, but he had always had a taste for younger girls, kept him young is what he said.

the minute she stepped onto her dad's back patio, anakin let out a wolf whistle. "there she is, lady of the hour," he teases as he takes a sip from the glass bottle of beer in front of him.

"hardly a lady," her father scoffed. "she's got all the boys at school wrapped around her finger,"

anakin laughs. "do you really, cupcake?"

she rolls her eyes. "can't call me that, i've grown," she replies with a grin.

anakin rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. its darker now, she can only assume he's dyed it because of his age. "i'm sure you have, sweetheart," he shoots back almost instantly.

anakin rakes his eyes over her frame and lands on the shorts, showing off her legs, nice and thick in all the right places. "those boys, eh?" he asks teasingly.

she shrugs. "nothing serious, just... a distraction," she says as her father hands her a glass of iced tea as she plopped down onto the chair in between her father and anakin.

anakin raises an eyebrow. "what about the sucker from new years?" he asks.

she shrugs. "too serious, too young," she responds as she looks up at him and bit her lip.

there it was. anakin knew this all too well. when a girl would approach him, they all did this thing.

they all looked up at him from underneath their eyelashes and bite their lips.

and most times, they ended up with their hands around his cock or with their lips wrapped around his cock, in no particular order.

he fights the urge to groan and he glances at her. "too young? what are you? a cougar?" he teases.

"oh please, you aren't any better, i remember all the pretty girls." she reminds him. "so young, older than me but still young, what was the last one? kira? maiah? avery?" she asks.

"you're not funny," he shoots back and his eyes flit to her father sitting next to them before leaning down and whispering in her ear, "keep this up, and i'll fuck that attitude out of you,"

something inside her shifts and she swallows the lump in her throat; he notices and he lets out a low laugh. "oh you'd like that, huh, sweetheart?" he asks softly.

she bit her lip. "no," she said before looking at her dad and looking back at anakin. "you shouldn't say these things, he could hear you,"

"please sweetheart, most times he just talks into a stupor, he'd never notice a thing, you could be sucking me off and man will be still talking a mile a minute,"

she crossed her legs, attempting to relieve the building coil in her being. "anakin," she warned him.

they turn their heads to look at her father, talking to himself and not having a care in the world. "hey dad," she says.

her father glances at her. "hmm?"

"I'm driving anakin to the store, he uh needs a new pack of cigarettes,"

he waves them off and she dashes into the house with anakin in tow.

he shuts the door behind her and she bolted towards the hallway, anakin chasing her and pinning her against the wall. "someone needs an attitude adjustment," he murmurs in her ear. "talking about all my girls, and yet, you act like them,"

she glances at him. "as if you could ever pull another girl my age," she shot back. "you're getting old,"

he runs his tongue along the inside of his lip. "say that again sweetheart,"

"you're getting old," she says again, more force behind her voice. "nobody's gonna want you,"

he grabs her hair, tugging it so her head tilts back, his free hand snaking down her body, grazing the skin of her navel. "these shorts of yours, they're a little short, you walk around like this on campus? looking like a slut?"

something inside her melts at his touch and she shakes her head. "oh no? you get fucked good by those boys at that college?" he asks as his fingers dip into her shorts, caressing her pearl through her panties.

a small breathy moan escapes her lips and he chuckles. "look at you, sweet girl, all needy for me,"

he pauses his ministrations before glancing at her, sinking to his knees, "i bet you're pretty down here too," he murmurs, swiping a stripe between her thighs with his fingers.

her back arched against the wall and he pressed his free hand against her navel, stilling her, "christ, you're soaked and i've barely even touched you," he teased as he tugged the shorts down her thighs, ignoring how she shivered as the cool air grazes her skin.

he pockets her thong, his fingers swiping at her arousal between her thighs, rubbing the slick mound, spreading her slick, the pads of his fingers teasing against her folds and his thumb rubbing at her pearl. he presses his lips together and glanced at her, "i bet you taste good too," he whispers as he pressed a kiss to her pussy.

she let out a soft moan, his tongue flicking at her clit, he devours her, licking and nipping in all the right places, teasing her, making sure his tongue left no crevice unexplored.

she'd heard the stories from girls in her hall of how anakin skywalker ate pussy like a man starved, she just never expected to be the one writhing on his tongue with his nose bumping against her clit, providing a delicious amount of friction.

he licks, sucks, and swirls his tongue around her clit, his fingers buried deep inside her as they work in tandem, his fingers matching the pace of his tongue, each drag of his fingers against her walls sent a new wave of pleasure through her being.

she burns everywhere he touches and she burns everywhere he doesn't. at a particular nip on her clit, she bursts on his tongue, her juices coating his lips, and he pulled away from her, wiping at his mouth with the tattoo sleeve.

fuck. if she hadn't just cum, she would've done it again with how he seemed unbothered as her juices dripped down his lips, down his throat, and onto his chest.

he tugged down his pants and gave his cock, a couple of rough strokes, before glancing at her. "said i'd fuck the attitude outta you, didn't i sweetheart?"

he grips her hips, guiding himself in between her legs, letting out a low hiss when he enters her tight pussy. "fuck, you're tight," he mutters as he begins to move.

she glances at him as he begins to move, her fingers digging into his back, clawing at his back, her lips omitting a string of slurred curse words with his name falling off her lips as if it were a prayer.

"god," she moans and he shakes his head.

"no, god can't help you now sweetheart," he murmurs, gripping her tighter as he moves deeper into her, placing her hand on her navel as he thrusts deep into her cervix, a small bulge forming in her belly.

"see that? feel that?" he asks softly. "that's how deep i am, sweetheart, gonna fill you up so good, you'll never think about fucking one of those little boys,"

she cries out and its enough to push them both over the edge, spilling his seed into her, her fingers tangling in his hair and tugging it roughly as he buried his face in her neck as he came.

"good girl," he whispers against her slick skin. "all you needed was an attitude adjustment,"

author's note: c'est saia, heyyy. so this took me a while but it was based off a joke i made on my friend bel's (ioveanakin on tiktok ) tiktok edit. but what did we think?? i don't think i'll continue teacher's pet as i lost inspiration for it. but what do we think about dad's best friend anakin?? let me know!!

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Wet your Throat – Rugan/Tav

Tav had a stressful week and longs to just surrender control. Luckily for her, Rugan has some ideas and a specific scroll he'd been meaning to try out.

AO3 here | Tags:

Tav fell down into the chair with a heavy sigh. 

“I can’t believe I had to solve a serial killer’s case on top of everything else”, she exhaled. “I swear, sometimes it’s like I’m the only one people listen to.”

Rugan chuckled from across the room, making his way over to lean down and give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “That’s because you’re incredibly competent at your job”, he smirked, “and you got that swaggery attitude those tossers respect.”

“Swaggery attitude? Sounds more like you”, Tav grinned back. “But thank you.” 

She pulled him closer for another kiss, her hands immediately starting to wander across his body: his lean muscles, the soft belly and his strong abs, his calloused hands… Ever since they’d started seeing each other she couldn’t get enough of him, and luckilyr, he felt the same about her.

“Maybe you should take a day or two off”, Rugan murmured, sliding his hands underneath her shirt. His hands felt rough against her softer skin, but she craved his touch, craved the prickling sensation that gave her goosebumps every time his hands brushed over her breasts. His mouth found the side of her neck in a completely unfair motion – he knew that she was weak for him sucking at her skin there. “And let me take care of you.”

Tav hummed into his touch. “I mean…” Her thoughts trailed off for a moment when his hands wandered up to her breasts, tenderly squeezing. “We’re waiting on a few things… maybe I could…” She let her head fall back when he rolled her nipple between his fingers, a shaky breath coming out of her mouth. 

Rugan chuckled, his low voice clearly amused. “I have an idea”, he suggested with a sultry undertone, nibbling at her throat before pulling away, looking at her expectantly. “But it requires a bit of trust.”

Tav sat up straight. The way he said it was intriguing and sent a shiver down her spine. Over the past weeks Rugan had increasingly come out of his shell and shown her more and more of what he was into. Their sex had gotten rougher, and in turn, better, as Tav discovered she absolutely loved getting told what to do, and how to do it, and when to do it; blindly following his wishes all in an effort to please him. When they were together she wasn’t the revered hero, nor he the experienced smuggler. They just were.

“I’m listening”, she grinned with excitement, and Rugan returned her expression with a smirk. 

“Two things”, he said, standing back up to walk over to a shelf, pulling out a scroll. “First: Tell me if things get too much, so I can stop and use the counter.” He flipped through some papers, then held up another spell. “And second: Take your fucking clothes off.”

Tav swallowed. She hadn’t expected them to start right away – not that she minded. But it was unexpected. 

“Didn’t you say you had work to do–”

“Making me repeat myself?” Rugan’s voice was low and dangerous, exactly how she loved it, and Tav wetted her lips before starting to undo the laces of her shirt without further comment. It took her only a few moments until she stood there, completely naked, waiting for whatever was next. 

The Zhent let his gaze fall over her body, an unreadable expression on his face. She knew that decades of practice let him slip on that mask easily, way more easily than she could, and every time he looked at her like he didn’t give a damn, heat pooled down between her legs. 

Rugan held up one of the scrolls and started reading: A low chant, and rather long compared to other scrolls she knew, and his forehead laid in creases as he focused on the words. And then, she felt it: Her breasts started to… swell. From the outside they barely expanded, but they felt plumper, fuller. Tense, as if waiting for release. 

“Fuck”, she breathed out in surprise, “What was that?”

“Don’t remember asking you to speak”, Rugan dismissed her, sitting down at the table, the documents he’d been working on before she arrived still laid out in front of him. “Come here. And be a good lass and bring me that scarf.” 

Tav tentatively touched her breast, trying to figure out what the spell had done – if he wanted to enlarge them it barely worked – and moaned out in surprise when her core clenched at the sensation.

Her breast was wet. Was she… leaking?

“Tav.” Rugan’s voice was half warning, half charm, and Tav hurried through the room to grab the scarf from the side table.

When she walked up to him he unbuttoned his trousers, took out his fully erect cock, and patted his lap.

“Take a seat, why don’t you?”, he demanded, eyes sparkling. 

Gods, yes. Tav noticed she was soaked, her body having dialed up the arousal within mere moments, and when she climbed on his lap to sink down on him, his cock slid into her with ease.

“Fuck”, she groaned and started to roll her hips into him, eager to please. But his hands stopped her. 

“Sit still”, he murmured, taking the scarf out of her hands. He tied it around her eyes, blindfolding her, before reaching around to bring her arms behind her back, tying them up with the leftover fabric. 

Tav gasped. She couldn’t see and she couldn’t move. She was stuck, sitting on his cock.

Rugan shifted underneath her, leaning forward. Tav smiled, expecting him to meet her mouth with his, or maybe her throat, but instead, he reached for the papers and, from what it sounded like, started working on his documents.

A soft gasp flew out of Tav’s throat when she realized what he was doing, and she heard him chuckle in response.

“Good lass”, he praised her, “Always been a quick one to catch on.”

Her body felt like it was on fire. The constant swell in her breasts made her flush with need, and his thick cock buried inside of her did little to ease the tension without either of them moving. Every sensation felt heightened as she couldn’t see nor move, and when her walls clenched around him she let out a moan, surprised by just how aroused she was.

Rugan chuckled with a low voice and ran his free hand over her back in a soothing motion. They sat there for at least an hour, with Tav’s body steadily climbing towards a high just from the way her tits felt and his cock twitched, and when he shuffled the papers and set them away she was already panting.

“Work makes me thirsty”, he murmured, sucking at her throat. “Good of you to offer me a refreshment.”

He pushed her chest backwards until she was leaning into his arm. His mouth closed around her right nipple, tongue softly lapping. Tav groaned. Her breasts felt like they were going to burst, full and needing release. 

But then, he… sucked. 

An orgasm crashed over her so quickly she didn’t know what was happening, only that she was helplessly shuddering in his arms on his cock. Rugan sighed and kept sucking, and only when Tav’s body was calming after her high did she realize that he was swallowing something. From her. He was drinking from her.

“What’s happening?” Tav whimpered, already feeling her body respond to Rugan’s mouth anew. The breast he was drinking from ached with need, mixed with sweet release, edging her on the more he sucked at it. 

“Fuck, you taste so good.” She couldn’t see his face, but she heard him groan out praise with her flesh still between his teeth. Her hips had started to move on their own, grinding into him. Down in her cunt, his cock was still rock hard, and Rugan grunted when she rolled her waist into him with more and more lust. 

He brought his mouth to her other breast, eager to repeat the process there: His hands dug into her ass, pulling her body against his, and as soon as the tension in her tit found release by spilling into his mouth, Tav came again. This time, she moaned so loudly she was sure the neighbors heard, and Rugan chuckled between swallowing, sucking out more and more of the juices that flowed from her tits down his throat. 

Tav’s head fell over, uselessly resting against Rugan’s. 

“I could sit here all day”, he sighed, exhaling deeply. “Having you come on my cock again and again, just like that, tight and ready, not knowing what is happening”, he chuckled. “I could invite the Zhentarim here for a meeting and have them watch you shudder with release without you any the wiser. I could… ah–” 

He stood up from the chair, pushing it backwards in the process, his arms steadying her legs and body before setting her down on the table. Tav blinked uselessly against the blindfold, paralyzed, and now on top of everything she was lying on her own arms. Rugan was still buried inside her, but he started to slowly pump in and out, languidly moving his hips while his hands wandered up to her breasts, squeezing them both. 

Wetness drooled down her breasts and the feeling of release made her clit twitch with need while she sobbed out a curse. 

“Such beautiful tits”, Rugan murmured, pulling out slowly before slamming into her with full force. “So tasty, and juicy, and needy.” 

Tav mewled at the praise, her entire body on fire. It felt like there was a direct connection from her nipples down to her core, and every time her tits were caressed, or sucked at, new waves of pleasure threatened to drag her under. 

Rugan started fucking her in earnest, slamming into her cunt so needily that the breath temporarily left Tav’s lungs. “I could have you sit on my cock all day”, he grunted between thrusts, “wet and clenching like a slut, while I ignore you.”

Another set of moans escaped her throat at the thought. The past hour had been torturous, but oh so good, and she longed to warm is cock within her walls, serve him, be good for him, while he was working. 

“Please”, Tav sobbed, “You can use me however you want.”

“Oh”, Rugan chuckled, “I will.” 

He slapped her tit without warning, and the sudden pain mixed with the tension of the spell, making her come on the spot. Tav’s walls spasmed around his cock as she came undone, again and again in quick succession, and he moaned at the feeling of her cunt tightening around him. Picking up his pace he kept fucking her, and as soon as she’d come down from her high he slapped her other tit, making her come all over again. 

Wetness had started to spurt out of her with every orgasm, and his balls were dripping with her juices, slapping against her ass while he pounded into her. There wasn’t anything on Tav’s mind. There was no space. Each time she calmed, he slapped her again, or pinched her nipple, or bent down to suck, and each time she came again, so often her throat hurt from the strain of her vocal cords. 

When he finally pushed himself over the edge he grabbed her tits with both hands, squeezing and digging, making her milk out his seed while her cunt constricted around him. Tav cried out, tears leaking out of the sides of her blindfold. Her arms, still bound behind her back, were numb, her legs were trembling, and her tits hurt in a delicious pain that continued to stir at her core. 

Eventually, Rugan sighed, picked her up, and sat back down on the chair, his cock still in her. 

“Such a good girl”, he whispered before kissing her. He gently pulled her forward so she could rest against his head and his shoulders, panting heavily. “Wait here”, he chuckled. “I have some more work to do.”

[luciathcv]

why do i even like him? - ksw

summary: your brother's best friend is a real asshole but yet you still like him || warnings: sunwoo is a little mean and he makes reader cry || genre: fluff at the end, slight angst ig, somewhat enemies to lovers?, brothers best friend trope || word count: approximately 500

sunwoo was your older brother's best friend

and he was an asshole

and like, maybe it wouldn't suck as much if he wasn't always around

oh, and also if you didn't have a huge crush on him..

but honestly, you don't even know why you like him

because like i said...

he's an asshole

for example, he has a.. habit (if you want to even call it that) of pulling your hair

not like aggressively per se

but like.. here i'll paint the picture

you'll be walking through your house

and well, like i said, sunwoo is always around so he's there

he'd come up behind you while heading to the living room where your brother was waiting for him to play some video games

and he'd gently tug your hair before walking past you

you'd look over at him, giving him a dirty look

even tho on the inside the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy

another thing he does is he'll literally steal your food

like???

you're sitting there at lunch, enjoying your food that you spent your hard earned money on

suddenly, sunwoo and your brother enter the room

sunwoo goes over to you and takes a bite of the food without even asking

"thanks" was all he'd say before leaving

meanwhile you're left furious

honestly why did you even like him

he'd constantly tease you as well

he'd make fun of your heights, your voice, the way you dressed, your attitude, etc.

it was only because he found all of those things cute tho but you didn't nor anyone else needed to know that

one day though, he'd went a little too far with his teasing

you ended up crying

he immediately felt bad when he saw you crying

but of course, he had to act like it didn't affect him...

you went to your room and continued to cry

after some time, there was a knock at your door

you hesitantly went to your door, expecting it to be your brother

but instead you were met with sunwoo

you were about to shut the door in his face but he stopped it, holding his hand out immediately and keeping it open

"i went too far.. i'm sorry." he'd apologize

"yeah, you did." you'd glare at him

there were a few moments of silence

"i never wanted to make you cry." sunwoo would tell you

you'd look up at him, but honestly, what could you say to that?

he wouldn't say anything as he just sighed and pulled you in for a hug

you'd be a little tense at first before finally just giving in

it was quite comforting you must admit

after a little bit, you'd pull away

all of the sudden, completely unexpectedly... he'd lean in and kiss you

you didn't kiss him back right away since you were shocked

but once you realized what was going on, you couldn't help but melt into the kiss

eventually, you'd pull away

"you're an asshole, you know that?" you'd ask

"yeah, i know.." was all he'd respond with

-- link to my masterlist

[ghostofskywalker]

hiii Lucy Gray anon, since our lovely Peeta took that prompt maybe "I don't really know how to dance..." || "It's never too late to learn" ?

of course, i love this prompt for her!! and since you were next on my list, here it is :) it went a little angstier than i had originally planned, i hope that's okay!

Moving Forward, Together

words: 888

summary: when your girlfriend wakes up in the middle of the night, you two have a conversation about her past, and she attempts to teach you a skill for the future.

flower and meaning: poppy || remembering the fallen of wars and armed conflicts - this is also going to fill my november prompt for the @yearofcreation2023

lucy gray baird masterlist || year of flowers masterlist

It took a while for Lucy Gray to open up about her experience in the Hunger Games, and you never pushed her to talk about things she didn’t want to. You couldn’t even imagine what experiencing that must have been like for her, but you could clearly see it continuing to affect her life, even as far away from Panem as you were right now, having taken the chance to run away together the first moment it came. 

On particularly rough days for her, you tried to help in any way you could, but you often felt powerless, especially when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night. You wept along with her most of the time, offering your comforting touch to her in any way she might want it. Sometimes she would even ask you to sing for her, though your voice was in no way as beautiful as hers. 

When Lucy Gray woke up crying this time, you immediately wrapped your arms around her and pulled her closer to you, placing soft kisses on her forehead and she shivered slightly from the sobs. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Usually, she would shake her head and that would be the end of the conversation, but you always wanted to make sure you gave her the chance if she wanted to continue. 

And it seemed that this time, she did want to talk. “I can’t stop seeing their faces,” she said, her voice shaking almost as much as her body was. “Jessup, Reaper, Lamina, Dill, Coral, Mizzen,” she said, rattling off the names of her fellow victims, those who were taken from their homes and their families and forced to publicly fight to their deaths in order to satiate the Capitol’s sadistic power fantasy.

Unsure of what to say, you only hugged her tighter, and she sucked in shaky breaths before continuing. “I don’t want to forget them, because that’s what the Capitol wants. But I can’t stop seeing them as if they were attacking me.” 

Tears began to slip down your face at her words, and even though you had never lived this particular trauma, you could understand her struggle. “It’s perfectly okay to want to forget the version of them you met in the arena,” you said gently. “No one blames you for that.” 

“I know, I just-” 

“Lucy Gray,” you said, cutting her off. “You are the strongest and bravest person I’ve ever met, and just the fact that you want to remember those who tried to kill you shows how compassionate and kind you are. You and I both know that their attitudes were a result of the brutal treatment and sick game the Capitol was playing, and I think that they would much rather us remember them as people who loved more than they hated.” 

She nodding, pulling away from you to get out of bed. “Can we talk about something else right now?” 

You could only imagine the toll this conversation must have taken on her, so you immediately nodded and reached out to take her hand. “Of course.” 

“Can you dance with me?” 

The new topic of conversation was not exactly unpleasant or unwelcome for you, but it also forced you to contend with something that you had never admitted before. “Oh,” you said softly, and she looked at you with a confused expression. “I don’t really know how to dance.” 

And it was true. You had met Lucy Gray in the middle of the woods, and although you knew that she and her family often performed at some of the dance halls in District 12, you had never been to one. All the time you spent with (before running away together) had been with the rest of the Coveys in the cabin or the lake, and in the middle of the woods as you rested on the soft patches of earth.

She looked shocked at your admission, but it wasn’t long before a smile began to spread across her face. “Well, it’s never too late to learn, if you’d like to,” she said, holding out a hand for you to take. 

When you took her hand and let you lead you through a (rather clumsy) waltz, it didn’t even matter that you felt completely out of your element. You could see some of the tension and worry evaporate from Lucy Gray’s face, and it was soon replaced with a look of concentration as she tried to explain to you both the steps of the waltz and then a simple line dance, which you were equally terrible at. Soon, the heavy atmosphere that had filled the room was gone, and the sound of bright laughter took its place. 

“You really are a terrible dancer!” she said, after you stepped on her foot for about the twelfth time. 

You laughed. “Am I the worst you’ve ever seen?”  

“Absolutely!” she shouted, leaning in to steal a kiss before bursting out into laughter. “But that’s okay, I still love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

The frightening memories and persistent troubles that Lucy Gray felt would never truly go away, you knew that. But you hoped that with moments like these, you would be able to help make them a little less haunting.  

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[imaginesbygrace]

i'm sorry (Rio)

Masterlist

Forgiving Rio was hard. You couldn’t fault him for his past, because everyone, even you, had baggage. But when that baggage comes knocking and asking for a job—and Rio complies—you can’t help but feel a bit annoyed. 

But still, you tried to be understanding, maybe this was just the kind of thing that girls with criminal boyfriends deal with? Still, he made you feel about this small when he couldn’t bother to stop Beth’s shameless flirting and lingering touches. So, you packed a bag and left. And then stayed gone. 

Rio got nothing more than a short two minute phone call explaining that you were done, why and to never speak to you again. He didn’t think you were serious. Yeah, he could admit that he fucked him, and he fucked up bad—-still, he didn’t think you’d ignore him for this long. 

Rio sent flowers to work and your new apartment. He had Mick tailing you everywhere, fixing any problem or issue to come into your path. He complies with your choice to cut him off, verbally anyway. Rio didn’t contact you once, no letters or calls. Mick followed you at a distance, giving you some semblance of normalcy. He doesn’t go near you. 

He sends food from his grandma, all your favorites because he didn’t want you to miss out on them because of him. Sometimes his grandmother even calls to invite you over, promising that Rio wouldn’t be in attendance and she has been true to her word since. 

It took six months before Rio snapped. He decided he was done sitting around and waiting for you to give him the chance to earn your forgiveness, he’d go find you and get you back before that idea even crossed your mind. 

Rio opted to go without any gifts, but with groceries. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous, he was nervous, finger shaking anxious. It took him five minutes of almost knocking your door before he actually knocked on your door. 

The following fifteen seconds were the longest fifteen seconds of his life. Not that any of it mattered when you opened the door, and Rio was shocked into silence while looking at you. It wasn’t that you had changed since he last saw you, it had just been so long since he actually saw you. 

You tucked your hair, which was still wet from the shower you took before dinner, behind your ear. You were in leggings and a hoodie, comfortable and beautiful. “Hey,” he finally spoke. 

“What are you doing here Rio?” He winced. Rio. He wasn’t expecting an endearing greeting per se, but a Chris would’ve been better than nothing. 

Rio racked his mind for his reasoning to break her demand of separation. The weight of the bags in his hands sucked him back to reality: he has to win you back and actually talking would be a good start. So he lifts the bags, “I was hoping I could cook you dinner.” 

You don’t answer, just lift your eyebrows at him in question. Did he really think you’d just forgive him? Finally, with a small huff and all the attitude in the world you answer him, “You must have confused me with someone else.” This time Rio’s brows lift. “I’m not one of those soccer moms you boss around like trash, Rio. I was your girlfriend and I expected you to treat me as such, with respect and as your equal. And if you think some ass kissing, major stalking, or any of this other nonsense is enough without even actually apologizing—” you took a breath— “-then you got another thing coming.” 

With that said, you slammed the door shut in his face. So he tried again the next day. This time, speaking the moment the door swung open. “I’m sorry.” Rio sighed softly. “I ain’t mean to hurt you like that, you’re more important than some old side piece. Business aside, I’ll have Mick do all the drops and have someone else meet with them if they need something,” He promised.” You don’t say anything and he takes it as his chance to continue.

“I brought food again. I owe you dinner, and so much more. Please, mama, give me the chance to earn your trust back.” You stared up at him for some time and Rio’s heart dropped lower and lower with every passing second. Just as he was about to take a step back and apologize, you turned around and walked back inside—leaving the door open. Rio smiled at the empty space where you had stood and quickly followed behind.

[eldritch-spouse]

[Part 4 of Gifted. Fem reader.]

Previous poll winner: " I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. " (37.1%)

TW: Violence; Descriptions of cannibalism; Slight gore; Knife play; Extremely dubious consent.

New choice! [VOTE]

" I think I'll... Thank the chef, yes. "

Do you really have a choice anyway?

You recall him, his voice mostly. A southern drawl that sounded almost goofy, but imposing. Which is fitting, you suppose, he's an intimidating cinder block of a monster. A mushroom monster, you've seen one or two of those before, they're generally quite pretty in your opinion. The chef in particular struck you, the dotted patterns on his arms glowing faintly in the cavernous dark of Sybastian's mouth when he reached in for you.

In truth, you're not too sure how to feel about him. And that insecurity manifests when you purse your lips, possibly regretting your cooperation regarding these two's lascivious suggestions.

" My my, she really is tame. " Vesper fans himself. " Oh how I regret handing her over! You and I would have had so much fun back in Lust, honey. "

You shudder, believing every word he says. Maybe a bit of fear here is healthy, you can only imagine what kind of animal you'd become in his hands.

" Well then, go! " The Icon urges, facing away from you and Santi dramatically. " I won't let myself stare a second longer, lest I ruin this game. " This guy is such a theater dork, you can't believe you sucked him off. And so happily too.

Nevertheless, Santi takes the warning to heart, ushering you up as soon as you have a couple more forkfuls, not enough to last you long. It's a waste of perfect cuisine, frankly. The incubus walks you through the crowd, hand locked with yours, ever determined to soothe you via gentle touches. You appreciate that about him, this demon's been very kind to you so far, for whatever reason. Maybe because you chose him... Well, it was a good choice, you reckon.

Speaking of choices, you're still not too sure about this last one. Every step through the crowd makes your heart beat a bit harder, a bit faster. Will things work out here too?

" You're so tense, love. Is it butterflies? " Santi teases. " Don't worry, keep up this precious attitude and everything will be fine. "

Encouraging...? Not really.

The doors to the kitchen are tall, a brilliant white, and although there's supposed to be windows in each one of them, the glass there is obscured, meaning the inside is a mystery to you. You can hear the sounds however. Nothing too suspicious, chatter and clinking, mostly.

When the two of you reach those doors, your back is basically glued to Santi's front, fear and dread keeping you stock still. The demon is unbothered, simply pushing the large doors apart and edging you inwards.

Now this... This is what you call a real kitchen.

It's absolutely massive. Then again, that's a theme here. You do understand why things need to be larger in general, after all, many of the monsters here are bigger than humans by a considerable amount, their comfort must be catered to- However, this place tends to exaggerate in the dimensions of its overall floors. This entire kitchen is like a house, it's furnished with all sorts of equipment, reminding you of a world-renowned establishment. The brightness hurts your eyes a little, but you suppose it's necessary. How come you've never even once heard of this location?

The first thing your adrenaline-sharpened mind notes is the blood.

On what you very clearly recognize to be some modernized chopping block. On the ground, like something bleeding and squirming was dragged from said block to another huge set of doors, leading lord knows where. A large scarlet handprint you can only guess belongs to the chef on one of those doors. Then there's that cleaver, a scary-looking thing, embedded in the cutting block, some form of viscera and tissue still clinging to it. So he's not just a chef, yes, he's definitely also a butcher. And yet... You know, deep in your soul, whatever creature possibly lost its life here was likely human.

God help you.

That's not all though. As soon as your gradually panicking mind looks at anything but the trails of red present, it quickly finds ambulating creatures. Small. Smaller than the waiter, totally black but reflecting some sort of pigment, their heads floating as they work, each one clad in white kitchen garbs with varying designs. The first thing that crosses your mind nearly makes you vomit. Children?! You blink several times. No. No, they can't be, just because they're small doesn't mean they're infants, you haven't seen a single child here. Besides, you're fairly certain these aren't monsters, whatever the Hell they could be, they all look the same physically speaking, only their color accents and facial expressions distinguish them. This is some sort of clone fest. What are you looking at?! What is this?!

" S- Santi?... " Are you going insane?

" Oh right, you've never seen one of those before. " The demon reminds himself, chuckling at his own antics. You don't question why he's okay with the shady blood stains. " Those things are called bobbles. They're made here, sweetie, think of them as extra helpers. "

Things... They're things. Uhuh.

You watch silently for a couple of seconds. Most of them appear to be absorbed in their own tasks, moving efficiently between each other. Cutting vegetables, passing utensils, cleaning dishes, shouting for ingredients. Some of them occasionally glance at you two, the gray-colored ones completely neutral, the blue ones with a hint of trepidation. They're a bit cute, you'll admit, if you don't question the logic of their mere existence too much. You wouldn't mind having one of these. After a minute or two of watching these "bobbles" work in fast-paced harmony, you relax enough to detach from Santi, standing by his side warily.

Soon, one of the things, with a tall hat and slightly ripped garb, stomps over to you two. Its eyes narrow over pink-freckled cheeks, and he frowns at Santi specifically. A wooden spoon is slapped onto the demon's stomach.

" Ya hav'ta knock! Sir doesn't like it when people don' knock! " It drawls at the snickering incubus, who merely takes the hits without flinching.

" Whoopsie... Can you find it in you to forgive me? "

You muffle an amused noise as well, watching the small critter's face puff in annoyance for a couple of tense seconds. How can anyone take them seriously, with that adorable look? Finally, it gives Santi a bright smile.

" Okay! " Big pink eyes settle on you, after a concerning pause- Like it genuinely hadn't seen you all this time. " Ooh! Ya brought a piggy, sir's gonna like her! "

The bobble grabs your hand with its four-fingered one and starts trying to lead you somewhere, but you stand your ground. Santi's eyes widen and he flicks that intrusive limb away.

" Hey-! "

" No no Turnip, this one's not for the warehouse. " The look on his pale face is serious, making the bobble tilt its perfectly round head. " This one's for sir. He knows her. "

" Ooooohh... " The pink and black bobble waves its hands excitedly. " Special piggy! "

Wait, hold on- It's name is literally Turnip? What.

" Yes, exactly, I need you to get Morell for me, okay? "

" Yessir! "

Funny, didn't Grimbly say that too? Irregardless, the small being trots away, pushing past those heavy-looking doors with great effort and disappearing from sight entirely. You couldn't get a good look at what lies beyond, which is disconcerting.

The incubus begins looking around, and though you can't really tell what he's after, you don't struggle too much when he beckons you over to an empty marbled counter, and sits you atop it. O-Okay. Satisfied, he goes back to waiting, some form of excitement in his gaze, although it mixes with something else, dampening it.

" Am I... " You start quietly, some of the adrenaline crashing, permeated by uncertainty. " Going to be alright? "

The demon faces you, reading into your expression with a carefully neutral one as he ponders. You don't like that he hesitates, that he's thinking about his answer. That in itself should be telling enough. When you look away, defeated, he grabs your hand, a much smoother smile on those handsome features.

" You're tough. " He begins. " I can tell. Trust in your sixth sense and keep it up. "

He meant to be motivating, but truth of the matter is that was neither a confirmation nor a denial. You can see through it, he doesn't know, but the probably doesn't want to scare you either. Fuck.

The humdrum of the kitchen workers chattering to each other and utensils clinking around becomes an indistinct buzz while you recess into the confines of your mind, adrenaline diminishing in the face of relative inactivity. What is the world outside these walls up to, right now? With you missing, your responsibilities unaccounted for, has your family noticed your absence? Is anyone coming for you? Do they even know how you got here? Will you ever see th-

A sudden woosh snaps you back into alertness, the bloodstained doors leading to who knows where parting smoothly. And he powers in. Him being, of course, the chef.

While not nearly as large as monsters like Vesper, he's towering in his own right. You've never been one to realize how much body language matters, but looking at... Santi called him "Morell", you think- You feel more on edge than you ever did around the massive demonic lord. It's his stance. Shoulders always squared, always flexed and tense, he constantly looks as if moments away from lunging towards something or someone. The few minutes of indirect interaction you've had with this monster were enough to transmit an idea of volatility, as if violence is always just one blink too late away.

The white garb he dons can no longer be called white by any stretch of the imagination, coated in splatters featuring varying shades of red. He looks mildly tired, and angry. You're not sure if he's shining from sweat or some differing condensation- The breeze you felt as soon as those doors parted suggests what lies beyond is cold. Like a fridge room.

A crimson-stained towel hanging from his shoulder is used to wipe bloodied hands rather poorly, before the thing is tossed away, a bobble catching it before it can hit the floor.

" This better be worth mah fuckin' time demon, ah'm two seconds away from- "

As soon as those curious cyan hues bounce up to regard the demon, they instantly dart to you, and he stills. Oh yes, he definitely recognizes you. You're being stared down.

" Well then... " The way bold bright teeth poke above that chunky scarf doesn't bode well with you.

" I take it this is worth your 'fuckin' time'? " Santi jabs.

The large mushroom crosses his arms over his chest, not moving from his spot. " Wha's this all 'bout? " Although he makes an effort to glare at the incubus, he keeps looking back to your figure on his counter. You wonder if he might be mad that you're sitting on it.

" Oh relax, I just brought the minx here to see you. " Santi does a placating gesture with his palms, though you feel a slight sting of betrayal when he opens his mouth again. " See, we just had dinner. Our present here loved your work sooo much she said she'd like to personally give her regards to the chef, and who am I to stop her, hm? "

Morell looks straight at you. Nerves force you to gulp, scratching at your arm and face lightly, better to stay silent than say something even more embarrassing.

Eventually, he relaxes slightly. It's a minuscule change is demeanor, but you don't miss it. " ... That so? "

When the demon doesn't reply, you realize it's a cue. What are you supposed to say here? You did agree to it. Besides, if not him, then they'll just toss you at someone else. There's no easy win, might as well do what's kept you alive thus far- Being polite.

" Y- Yes. " You look him in those cyan eyes, oddly shrunk pupils swimming in a sea of black. He seems like the type of guy that values eye contact.

Slow, evaluating seconds pass.

" Aight... Tha piggy can stay with me. " He says it with a chuckle, looking a lot brighter than he did not even a minute ago.

Santi nods, then quickly turns to you, rubbing a clawed hand on your cheek. His face betrays sadness, a little bit of resignation, disappointment. " Sweetness, it looks as if this is where we part. " He leans down, nibbling softly at your bottom lip, before brushing through your hair and taking several steps away. As if forcing himself. " For now, of course. " You can't really tell if that's good or bad.

" Ya done? " A decidedly not amused voice rings. For such a large man, Morell moved quietly, having closed some of the distance between you. " Git tha fuck out already. "

Santi only chuckles, making his way out to the main restaurant area. " Have a great time, love. " One last cheeky wink is all you get, before the demon is out of your sight.

For the first time in a while today, you feel truly alone. Santi had given you a sense of security up until now, even if said sense was erroneous. Here however, you're entirely on your own, feeling hunted, feeling cornered. There's no telling what this monster might want from you.

Keep calm. Breathe. Smile a little.

You'll make it through this.

Morell stares at you intently.

You seem to be faring well for someone who got thrown to the wolves, all things considered. No longer encased in lace, sporting clothes he swears he's seen before, not trembling in fear with your tail tucked between your legs like earlier. Tsk, Santi's been treating you too well, you ought to have some fear if you're staying here for a while. Fear keeps you alive, keeps you sharp.

Point being, you're clearly the clever type, you wouldn't have made it this far in such an intact condition if you pushed the wrong buttons with the demon. Sure, the shroom's certain you had to pay some sort of price to acquire these accommodations, but you probably knew that prior. He can tell you're not like most of the pigs he gets here, the kind that squeal and kick as soon as he nears them. No, it's in your eyes, you're so much smarter than that.

Doesn't matter, you're about to sing to a different tune with Morell now.

The monster moves once Santi leaves the premises, to the sink only a small distance away from the counter you're perched on. Though his back is mostly turned to you, Morell is confident you wouldn't try to bolt out. You know that you can't, know that without the staff's protection you're just mince meat for the crowd. His hands are rinsed and the towel atop his shoulder is wrung dry of the last pig's blood. He's glad to be rid of that one, they were troublemakers since the time they got dragged in to the very last breath- But you gotta appreciate the consistency, at least. If it was a calmer day, he'd play around with them some more before bringing down the hatchet, so to speak.

Ridiculous, here he is saying he's so busy, about to damn it all just so he can fuck with you. But how can he not? Look at you, just politely sitting on his counter with that fat fucking ass. Looking around, occasionally smiling briefly at his bobbles' antics. It's like you fit here already.

" Well pumpkin- " He starts, giddy that your spine straightens immediately. " 'S a pleasure ta have ya 'ere in mah lil' kitchen. "

The mushroom turns then, wiping his hands, cracking his knuckles. " Ya like tha food? "

You study his face for a moment, confused by the hint of mirth there, but eventually deem it correct to nod. Morell doesn't really care, he knows his food is good. Though he's a little upset you didn't get to try the best parts. When Grimbly dashed into the kitchen, the waiter told him everything. You, tangled between Vesper and Santi- To think that you've gotten an Icon of Hell's attention this soon! What kind of honey is up your ass?! Santi specifically requested something without human, and now he knows why.

Out of genuine fondness. Because really, you don't know what human tastes like. His dishes can oftentimes make that meat blend into other types, visually. If he arranges it well enough, you'd deem it a regular old steak, eat it, and call it delicious. All the incubus had to do is stay quiet. But he went the extra length to make sure you didn't obliviously consume your own kind, the sap.

" Good... Tha's good. " He says, after a pause. " Stop by whenever yer hungry. Ah'll get'cha somethin'. " Something worth eating.

" O- Okay. " Yeah, you're starting to click some things together by now, aren't you?

" Y'know, I'm real hurt, piglet. "

You blink, likely wondering if "piglet" was meant to address you -It was- Unsure where he's taking this. The chef paces several steps your way, ending up looming by your side, enjoying the way you immediately cast your gaze to your lap. He twirls locks of your hair idly.

" Mah memory's blankin', who got ya outta that mimic's jaws again? "

Looking up, searching his face for clues you won't find, you answer hesitantly but truthfully. " It was you? "

Morell snickers. " Yeah, sounds right. After all, who knows what could'a been o' you by now if ah hadn't? "

A sour expression crosses over your smooth features. Yes, think about it. Linger.

" An' still, ya pick the fuckin' demon. " The chef shakes his head, ruffling your hair. You shiver beneath him, likely realizing, just as most others do, that there's a great deal of strength behind his spongy-looking hide. " Ya can't make this shit up. "

" ... But- " What could've been an attempt to defend your incorrect choice is swiftly ignored.

" But what, sweetie? I was tha only one who could'a freed ya there! " The shroom points to himself, as if it was obvious.

Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't, you don't need to know that. Morell stands and watches a myriad of expression race on your complexion. Fear, confusion, dread. " I'm... I'm sorry? "

Hah, oh that's so cute!

His guffawing nearly shakes the kitchen walls, rocking his chest. You're adorable, he'll give you that much. Is this your attempt at placating him?

" 'S not a big deal anymore. " He waves, eventually stopping his fit of laughter. " C'mere. "

You hesitate a healthy amount, he can understand it. Though eventually, when Morell makes it clear he's not going to drop it, and that his patience isn't limitless, you plop down from the counter, taking careful steps his way.

" Closer. " He beckons when you refuse to stand in front of him. " Ya spooked? " Of course you are, he's been around your kind for so long, you're all like mindless gazelles, deers in headlights, pigs squealing to the skies and running around in circles.

It's when the chef places a heavy palm on the counter, and it rattles, that you zing to action and get just as suffocatingly close to the monster as he was hoping. " There we are, was it hard? " It was rhetorical, but he's delighted that you shake your head anyway. " Thought so. "

Morell takes a moment to appreciate the sight of you.

All humans are petite, and although there's something dainty about your demeanor right now, he can see your muscles tense like coiled springs, ready to snap, ready to run. Fight or flight is a beautiful look on you. You have a good amount of meat on your bones, he can tell with a couple of hearty gropes to those bare thighs. Hmm yes, fine cuts, good stuff. His fingers knead at you like dough, and Morell feels a sick little twitch in his pants when you start trembling.

" S- What are- "

" Sshh, quiet naw. " He warns, letting full hands roam around. The chef thrills himself with your obedience, going from calves to back of the thighs, gripping your ass firmly and snickering at your choked noise.

You're a lovely little thing, the kind he feels sorry for when he butchers, because they could last so much longer. Demand here is crazy, which is good for his pockets, but also saddening at times. Morell doesn't get to fool around with the pigs as much as he'd like to anymore. Especially not tonight! When his hands move to your front, palping at your belly, he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

Practically empty. As he suspected. You haven't eaten anything properly yet, certainly not with those sluts, they probably think feeding you jizz will work out just fine, typical. They don't know how to care for a piglet at all! And to think you willingly chose him, how dim are you? You wince when he grabs at you more firmly, and it's enough for Morell to give it a rest.

" You don' look so full, piggy. " The chef tuts, patting your abdomen. " Knowin' them types, you prolly didn' get ta eat much since ye got here. "

He watches you squirm briefly, either tickled by the softer touch or wanting to stop it. " I'm... It's okay, I'm not that hungry. "

Liar. You're small and weak, you should be eating anything you can in this environment. So dumb, so naïve, it's a wonder luck has been on your side thus far. " Ya sure? " He squints.

" Y-Yep, thank you. "

Cute.

" Welp, in that case- " Morell lets some of his anticipation show, shrugging and moving to be mere inches away from your form. " We can skip right to tha good stuff. "

The whites of your eyes widen and you give him this puzzled, anxious look. Oh come now, don't play dumb. " Ya wanted ta thank me, right? " The shroom grabs your tiny hand in his and puts it to his chest, a lidded, much more playful and relaxed expression on his face. " Don' lemme stop ya, sweetie. "

Oh, the gradually rising panic in your face is just precious. He's a lot, not to toot his own horn, but Morell gets your nervousness. He's been called "an absolute unit" a couple of times and it strokes his ego. Speaking of, you need to be stroking something else right now. He's been pent up these last couple of days, preparing for this event hasn't been kind to Mori's libido.

The chef is starting to think he's going to have to do things the hard way until you finally move. While your palm shakily slides down his chest, feeling slightly excited breathing, he busies himself with untying the long sash around his waist. Much to his disappointment, you don't grope, not that he expected you to anyway. Chuckling, Morell corners you further against the counter, spotted arms on each side corralling your body. His cock jumps in his pants when you give him a doe-eyed look full of uncertainty. You're purposely lingering on his abdomen, avoiding what lies beneath. The chef responds to this by flexing slightly, allowing you to feel his well-built constitution. Yeah sure, he's showing off, let him have this.

You don't look him in the eyes when you eventually relent, fingers sliding down. He's impatient however, roughly grabbing your hand. He reaches for one of the torn sleeves of his white smock and parts it, shrugs off the other one, letting the outfit fall to the floor, kicked aside by heavy-looking boots. You're apparently fascinated, studying his upper body openly, visibly flustered. Morell smiles when you focus on a particularly dark mark on his arm, stare all you want. He rips you back into focus by firmly smoothing your hand over the raging hard-on tenting his black pants, unable to conceal his laughter when you audibly gasp. Aw, don't flatter him like that.

When Morell drops his grip, your fingers remain static, and he rolls his eyes. " C'mon, ya scared? " He parrots.

Scared is an understatement.

This guy puts you off. Plus, he's packing heat.

At the risk of sounding filthy, you'll admit he's not the biggest you've seen, that title now falls squarely onto Vesper. The Icon's size didn't strike you as something note-worthy- He's already gigantic in comparison to you, of course his junk would be appropriately huge as well. Not to mention your mind was a little clogged at the time. Morell is a whole other story, you might very well have to take him, and he's bigger than Santi for sure. It's cause for some alarm, but then again, this whole situation is.

He seems to have taken your shock as a compliment, though it's very clear the monster's patience is waning the longer you stall.

Shakily inhaling, you give the chef what he wants, stroking generously through the fabric and occasionally squeezing at him. It... It doesn't feel like he has anything on beneath these pants. Your efforts get the monster to sigh in pleasure, looming over you and adjusting, giving you more to work with. There's nothing left to the imagination, the shape imprinted on his clothes lets you know exactly what you're dealing with. And frankly, a part of you is oddly flattered by how much he appears to be getting into it, pressing back against your hand, throbbing, humming lowly.

He seems frustrated, stressed maybe. You don't know how much of a good idea it was to let those two basically nudge you into this.

" Mmf, they teach ya some or are you jus' excited fer me already? " Morell drawls.

Declining to answer, you merely keep going. Part of you was worried he'd call you out, as you're very clearly trying to rile him up so he'll settle for a sloppy clothed grind- As if.

The ring of a zipper coming down is predictable to you, a flushed blue cock already stained by its own precum bouncing free. Fuck, he's really not packing lightly. The look on the chef's face says you better resume, so you opt not to test his patience too much. He's heavy. To be fair, you don't doubt he's dense in general, but the warmth of his member on your hands has you gulping for what might come next. Nevertheless, you try not to look at your own motions while you work him, gaze scanning the kitchen instead.

It's incredible. All this time, the group of bobbles hastily working hasn't casted a single glance at you two. It's as if... This is normal to them. Like they know better than to gawk. You can only wonder what types of obscenities go down here.

You're still staring by the time Morell groans, reaching for your top. The surprise of slightly cold fingers edging up the hem of said cloth has your motions faltering, resigning yourself to letting the cook remove that oversized shirt. What's the alternative? Make him angry? You agreed to this, might as well try to get into it.

Nipples pebble in the cold air near immediately, and the chef laughs quietly to himself at the sight of your breasts, a discolored tongue wetting his teeth. " Everythin' about ya is jus' tha cutest, ain't it? " He grins. " Lookit 'em... "

Big palms frame your tits, and it's only now that the expression "baker hands" takes on a whole new meaning. Morell kneads at your chest in a confident and strong manner that has your breath catching. You're ashamed to admit no one's given your tits this type of attention before, feeling goosebumps rise in the wake of your unexpected pleasure. A high-pitched noise escapes when he plucks at one bud, and you realize your hand has been merely wrapped around him all this time when the monster thrusts impatiently.

" Oh? Did'ja like that? "

" N- No. " Yeah, super believable.

" Lyin' piglet. " The soft scolding is quickly followed by him bending to kiss and lick shamelessly around your tits. You can't help gulping when teeth glide and catch slightly on skin. Fuck's sake, if he actually- He nibbles slightly, spare hand forcing the one around his dripping shaft to work faster. When you look down, seeing a teal shade on his dark cheeks and most of your breast in his blunt-toothed maw, you almost panic.

" D- Don't-! " Did he just fucking throb in your hand? " Please- Don't bite! "

That bright flush intensifies, hot puffs of air wetting your skin as he all but steams, teeth flirting with your pain tolerance, forcing a frightened keen out of you, before he peels back, panting.

" Fuck yeah, yer a good catch. " Morell groans, zipping his pants back up in a vaguely uncomfortably manner. " Don' move a muscle, ya hear me piggy? "

When you don't answer immediately, he gives you an "are you testing me?" glance that installs the fear of meeting the maker into your bones.

" Y- Yes, Morell. "

Why did you say his name? You didn't need to that, you just added a personal touch into this. God damn it. Perhaps it's for the best, because the chef seems appreciative, smiling before hastily cramming himself through the bloodied doors he came from.

You have no idea what he's doing, what he'll return with. And frankly, part of you doesn't really want to know. When Morell's footsteps become distant, instincts beckon you to look towards the opposite direction, to the second pair of tall doors, the one you entered from. It's only a matter of putting on your shirt... Where is it? Who took it?! You look around frantically, but the thing has apparently vanished. Fuck's sake...

Regardless, you can just step outside the kitchen, maybe take your chances... It would be risky, but if you get in that fucking elevator! You know that's the ticket to leave this dump. You just have to figure out which floor leads to the ground level, it's that simple.

You don't even realize you're walking towards the exit.

One of the bobbles, a blue one with a shorter hat, stops next to you, some others giving you side-glances. Although she doesn't utter a word, you can see the silent warning in her face. A cautious shake of the head is all you're given, and then the doors part. Not the ones in front of you though.

" ... Where d'ya think yer going? "

It's as if your lungs collapse for a moment, air refusing to fill them. " No- Nowhere, nowhere, I- "

" And 'ere I thought ya'd behave. Tsk. "

When you zip around, you get to see the large mushroom power towards you, a sturdy-looking rope on his hands. Of course, the thing is adorned with aged red marks. There's a sadistic sort of glee on his dark face, making you take several steps back. His chest puffs, the monster bellowing out.

" Hah! Try it, piggy. " Morell taunts. " Ya take a single fuckin' step outta those doors an' ah'll hunt ya fer sport, pertty baby. "

You don't doubt him.

All you can do is gulp and hope for the best, feet rooted to the tiled ground in spite of the screaming voice that begs you to haul ass. The monster's still snickering to himself when he reaches you. You're no longer spared a hint of gentleness, as the chef grabs your arm tight and drags you to the center of the kitchen, towards one of the horrid, blood-stained chopping blocks.

You're flipped around and slammed face-first onto the wood, assaulted by the sensation of residual, cold viscera on your face. The metallic scent mingles with a woody aftertaste and you start to panic under his hand, very aware a huge cleaver lies only centimeters away from your person. Is this it? Is this the end? Is he going to cut your fucking head off?

" I'm- I'm sorry, please God- "

Your flailing, although definitely amusing to the cook, is halted when he squeezes exceptionally hard on your arm. Your limb grows numb from the sheer force, he's cutting off blood flow. A little more and he'll break your humerus, you can feel it. Getting the message, you go entirely limp, near hyperventilating.

" Easy piggy, easy- " There's a condescending pat to your head. " I'mma jus' tie ya up, 'kay? Don' make me hurt ya. " You can feel the weight of him poised on your back for a moment. " 'Cause ah'll fuckin' love it if I hav'ta. "

You whimper.

" Gonna be good for me? " He tests, already nudging your arms onto your back. You can feel the rope being weaved between them in certain patterns, movements rushed but expertly practiced. You nod rapidly, full of fear, and he hums while tying knots behind your back. One. Two. Three?! Oh, you're not making it out of this one on your own. For sure.

When the chef lets go of your bound limbs, not too tight but not too lax, you give them a test, making the shroom chuckle. " Mm, fine work if ah do say so myself. Good ta know I still got it. "

When fat fingers tug at the hem of your shorts, you can only try to focus on your breathing, shivering when the fabric is dragged down to barely hang by your knees. You still ooze remnants of your slick from prior activities, and Morell doesn't seem to miss that either, because he uses it as lube to jam a digit into you. The insertion is sudden enough to have you jump, leg jerking.

" Ey naw, don' buck at me. " The monster snorts, curling his finger and testing the waters.

You don't know why, or how, but your body warms regardless of the circumstances, walls tightening around that sole digit as if to encourage the chef. And all you can say to yourself is that it's a result of Vesper and Santi's influence. Residual effects, probably. It must be! You wouldn't be into this otherwise, right? You wouldn't find it hot that you're helpless, being molested by a gross butcher on his own filthy chopping block. No... God please no, you don't think you can face yourself after this.

The mushroom monster, oblivious or uncaring of your inner turmoil, simply forces a second finger in, without much resistance. Fuck him and his deliciously thick hands, the familiar stretching sensation sends sparks flying behind your eyelids and you close them. You're not the only one enjoying themselves it seems.

" Damn piglet, lookit that, ya needy girl. " The chef starts eagerly fingerfucking you, giggling and moaning quietly to himself when you reflexively tighten. " The Hell were you tryin' ta run if ya needed me this bad, hm? Too much pride in that lil' noggin'... " He teases, panting.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard you may want to will it into reality, closing your eyes won't simply make this unrequited pleasure fade away. It won't make you any less wet and inviting for the chef, it won't quiet down the shlick of his lurid fingerfucking that somehow manages to ring louder than the humdrum of the constant cooking around you. All that effort is rendered moot when you let out a fevered moan and flex hard around the cook's hand, wanting more.

" Hhn- Fuck yeah. "

Far too jarringly, your cunt is emptied, there's some frantic rustling behind you, a ziiiiip, you know exactly what it is that slaps onto your ass. He doesn't seem very calm.

" M- Morell. " You hope using his name will sweeten your request. " Please be gentle, please. "

" Aww. " He chuckles, stray hand reaching to tickle under your chin, the tip of his member lines up perfectly against you. There's a gentle push, and you do your best to relax, glad he's at least doing that much for you.

Tickling becomes a solid hold of your neck.

" You'd like that, wouldn' ya? "

Morell slams home with a brute strength that not only knocks the wind out of your lungs, it feels like he's shoved your guts up to your throat. It's such an intense feeling that you believe you're sick for a moment, vision blurring as you sob out a mangled cry. For a couple of seconds, you just gasp, pussy spasming and legs shaking erratically, staring straight ahead at the grayish wall.

The chef grunts and sighs loudly, canting his hips to make sure he's fully sheathed inside you, his balls tighten and he shudders in total bliss. " Fuuck, ya wanna milk me dry, don'tcha piggy? "

You really don't care for his taunts, but it's hard not to squeal when a palm strikes across your left asscheek with the fury of a thousand suns. He amuses himself with this, it appears, stroking over the sore spot while he rocks back and forth inside your pulsing walls. He seems to struggle with your tightness, and you struggle with his girth as well, the two of you locked until he thinks to torture your poor clit. " Real fuckin' tight fer someone who's been foolin' 'round with demons. "

He won't let you squirm your way out of his hard rolls, continuing the torture until you're sufficiently relaxed for Morell to establish a slow back and forth, every thrust making you dig your nails into the flesh of your own arms. " Ya oughta stay 'ere fer a while longer. This cute an' this hot? Ah can't jus' let ya out. "

You're just trying to adapt to the cook's size, but he's far too eager, not giving you enough time to adjust before he's speeding up, jostling you. A tongue tries to wet dehydrated lips, tasting nothing but smeared blood while the scent of exotic spices clogs your nostrils and his lewd panting rattles your ears.

You're sure you must have paled like the cauliflower he has laying around when the monster stops to yank that gruesome cleaver out of its groove in the wood you currently lay on. You're not sure whether to cry, scream or simply accept things as they are. Morell grabs a firm handful of your hair, pulls your head back, and allows the blunt end of the blade to flirt with your throat.

" Naw then, do me a favor- " The blade flips, pressing dangerously against frail skin as Morell starts drilling into your small figure. " An' oink fer me, piglet! "

Oh you do.

Even if you wanted to be quiet, you couldn't.

It's everything at once. The absolutely merciless pounding into your pussy, reaching deeper than it should -Why doesn't it hurt?- Dragging hellish waves of bliss through your poor overworked brain, the terror of that cleaver possibly sinking into your body, slitting your throat open so you bleed out while he happily fucks you till your dying breath, becoming nothing more than yet another ambiguous red stain in this morbid kitchen. Nothing could ever prepare you for this, so you moan, whimper and squeal like the animal he wants you to be, doing your best to hang onto anything, tears and drool cascading down your face.

You can't tell left from right anymore, shivering at every bestial noise Morell makes above, feeling his balls slap against you with every hard piston, it's really no wonder your confused body couldn't keep up, and you truly screech in the wake of your jarring orgasm, seeing dots swimming in your vision.

" Atta girl! Nice an' sloppy... "

In spite of his confident tone, Morell's rhythm falters at your clenching. And, much to your relief, he lets the cleaver fall to your side, focusing instead on using both hands to frame your head while he bends to be flush against your back. It's a humiliating position, but you've long since stopped giving a shit about dignity here. In fact, you just want to make it out of this hellish kitchen mostly in one piece.

There's not much room for thinking when he grunts like a bull into your eardrums, gasps turning into silent gasps the second he starts slamming home deep and hard. One, two, three, four and-

His deep growl shakes you from head to toe, legs kicking instinctively as his cock flexes and he fills you like an obscene bucket. It's an uncomfortable sensation that applies too much pressure everywhere, and even if you can't be sure, you think you came again from it, very briefly. The sound of cum splattering to the floor rings in your mind while you simply wait for Morell to milk the last of his orgasm so you can come down.

" Hm, didn' have this much fun in a while, piggy. " He finally mutters, massaging your hips calmly as he rises. " Gotta say, I'm real glad ya chose ta gimme your 'regards'. "

You just groan senselessly. Your legs feel like melting jelly.

You're not sure what he's about to do next, and neither of you get to know anyway, because a group of short pitch black bodies scram in through the front doors.

" Sir! Sir please, you have to help! "

" It's serious! "

" The giant snake woman swallowed Alfredo!! "

... What?

Staring vapidly at the creatures, nothing happens for a couple of static seconds. Then the cook sighs, exasperated, before sliding out of you slowly. He shushes you when you wince, patting your sore thighs before fully laying you onto the large chopping block. You can't muster the energy to care, merely laying there and hissing at the increasing discomfort from having your arms tied this long.

" Ah'll be right back, pumpkin', promise. "

The last thing you hear is stressed murmuring, a zipper sliding up and boots stomping away, another woosh signaling the doors have closed and you're now mostly alone.

Yes, finally, some peace... A smile of relief almost makes its way to your lips before your consciousness fades entirely.

...

" So this is where she's been all this time... "

" Geez, can you believe it? I bet they just threw her in here to fend for herself. "

" In all honesty, I am appalled she has lived this long. "

" She's special, can't you tell Nebul? "

" You're much too prone to theatrics. "

Distant voices lull you back to reality, tired eyes blinking open, adjusting to the lights in the kitchen once more, before appraising the two studying your curled up form. One being the waiter, and the other that guy wearing a cloak, with the strange-looking head.

" Oh here she is, hi! " The smaller one waves, smiling bright.

" You cannot stay here for long. " The other warns. " If you intend to live, that is. This floor has fallen to total calamity. "

Yeah, you bet.

" I'll take care of this, you can go back up! " Grimbly hastily cuts in.

" You misunderstand, I'm not leaving without the human. " Although monotone, even you can sense the warning implied. Not that his coworker seems to care.

" Yeah right, like that's happening. Who knows what you'll do to this poor girl, you freak. "

" It would certainly be better than becoming an impulsive vampyre's bloodbag. "

The waiter's eye twitches. " ... How fucking dare you. "

Alright, back to square one it is. You need to leave before Morell comes back, and these two don't seem like they'll reach an agreement anytime soon.

You'll have to pick again.

Sighing, exasperated,

[niilue]

Fem! With Sanemi and promote number 15. Can it be with body worship, hickeys, and mirror sex?

THANK YOU

‧₊˚⊹ sub sanemi shinazugawa x fem!dom reader

prompt: " having sex afther an argument"

cw: drabble?, dom reader, fem reader, body worship, hickeys, mirror sex, pegging words: 803- drabble? more like a fanfic xd 1k event

fighting with sanemi was the worst. you were angry and furious about something and when you wanted to talk to him about it you felt like you were talking to a wall. he would ignore you and sometimes just say a few hurtful words and leave.

it was horrible, because despite the personality that everyone knew, he didn't yell at you or raise his voice too much, but he knew how to make you angry with a couple of sentences.

it had been a few hours since you had argued. and you weren't about to make the first move. he needed to learn and do it on his own. to realize his own mistakes.

even though you knew that maybe you were at fault in some things, you just wanted to talk about it. but your temper sometimes betrayed you.

you heard the door to your room open as sanemi asked if he could come in. you just mumbled a curt "mhm" as a sign of approval.

sanemi entered the room calmer and scratching the back of his neck. he looked embarrassed and a little depressed.

you looked at him seriously, arms folded on the bed, and waited for him to speak.

"listen, (name), i wanted to apologize... i didn't mean to tell you those things... i- it's just that." his words were slurred and he seemed more nervous than usual, perhaps your silence was the cause.

he looked at you with shining eyes, apparently he had cried or was about to cry. "i'm sorry, for everything, you know that i... i love you, too much."

his face was a little reddened by the last thing you had said, he had taken the strength to look you in the face when he said it. 

he was so cute when he behaved like that, really that's why you loved him so much, in spite of his attitudes he knew how to recognize his faults, even though sometimes it was hard for him.

you got out of bed and hugged him. "you took him by his cheeks, caressing his scars and gave him a deep and needed kiss. "i love you too, sanemi."

after that you dragged him to the bed and whispered in his ear that you would make love to him, as a reward. sanemi seemed in a trance but he just nodded looking at you and letting you do it.

you asked him if he was willing to let you do it all. he knew what you meant. even though not much had happened, you knew that he liked it.

you took off his clothes and looked at his body. "beautiful." you whispered.

you started kissing every part of his skin. giving him a lot of attention on his scars that he didn't love so much. you massaged and licked everything, you wanted him to know how much you cared for him.

you prepared him for a long time, using his own fingers so he could feel the pleasure for himself. although in the end you were the one who ended up with three fingers in his tight interior. 

"do it (name), i'm ready."

you put your strap on and before penetrating him you asked him to lie on his back so he could see his reflection in the mirror in front of him.

sanemi whimpered in disgust, his cheeks flushed, and he began to stammer about how embarrassing that would be.

"shh, it's okay love, i want you to see how cute you look when you are, excited."

sanemi turned around stiffly, avoiding looking at himself too much. his breathing was a little erratic, his nipples were red and erect, his cock danced with every movement he made. it was an image, too erotic for him.

you began to slowly enter inside him, listening to his panting and how he hid his face in the pillow. little by little his entrance took you as it should. and before you moved, you had sanemi penetrating himself.

you gently grabbed him by the neck and bit, sucked and licked. leaving marks on his neck.

“everyone will know how much fun you had today," leaving the man speechless, who was now staring shyly at his reflection as he thrust himself back and forth.

opening his mouth in pleasure, and sometimes biting his lips as you took control to make it faster.

"what a good boy, sanemi, look how well you do it. so good."

sanemi nodded his head half gone as he rolled his eyes and moaned loudly.

"aaah, looks like i hit your sweet spot..." you stroked his glutes hard, moving down to his thighs. you repeated this over and over again, you loved how firm he felt in this area.

"m-more..."

"what do you say honey?"

"m-more...hng, just...more." whimpered sanemi.

[archivalofsins]

I wonder if Muu, someone with very little allies, would be comfortable with the only one willing to listen to her disappearing on her now that she's guilty. I wonder how many people like Mu outside of Haruka. How many are willing to help her and who will just think, "It's karma right; what goes around comes around as she said that has nothing to do with me". I know Yuno doesn't/wouldn't want to be bothered, and Futa has learned to stay in his lane. So, he wouldn't concern himself over either of them as they seemed to have not with him. Well, if his second written interrogation holds true, that is.

It's interesting to wonder if Muu can keep the same flippant attitude over what Haruka said he'd do now that it played out this way. It would seem Milgram doesn't have her or Haruka's best interest in mind. It's a bit fun to see someone who could only get as far as she did through having people beneath her indulge and at times do the work for her so willing to lose someone that meets what she's been asking for.

So, does Muu really support whatever her friends want to do or was all that talk just that talk. Now that she's having issues will she still support Haruka doing that or will it turn into a I need you so you can't do that situation. I wonder what will happen either way as guards it's best to prepare and recognize that no matter where the pin drops the blame will be put directly on our heads.

At times like this, it's important to know ones own resolve well. A person can't change what other people decide to do, only how they react to it after all. I'd rather do what I believe I should than something I think everyone else believes is the right course of action, but I'd personally regret. So, what Haruka did and Muu didn't try to stop was bound to get mixed reactions. I wonder what will come first Muu's continued comfort since she may only have Haruka on her side at this point or stinging those who betrayed her out of jealousy.

I mean this is Muu we're talking about. She may not even see this verdict as a response to her murder but a bunch of people lashing out because she's Haruka's favorite. Since all people proved was they like Haruka oh so much but what about Muu? Muu says we could just vote everyone Innocent crickets Haruka begs people to vote Muu Innocent her Innocent percentage goes up. It wouldn't be difficult for her to interpret that as "I overheard I found out...how much I'm not needed." I guess Haruka was actually the one meant to be pitied in the end.

She told us what would happen if anyone betrayed her out of jealousy. The sad thing is people like Muu tend to assume everything that happens to them that's bad is because someone is jealous. So, will Muu rely on Haruka or leave him to the birds... I guess it's more pitiful for her to lose a friend over something that could have been easily avoided then blame us for it like this is your fault guard you're so mean, right?

It's a real win/win situation regardless of how Muu let's it play out. It could easily turn into a situation similar to Futa's what if Mahiru had died then you and I would be no different scenario. Except Muu may be more than willing to not only let it happen but conveniently ignore how she was complicit in allowing it to get to this point. She may go I guess some of it is my fault like in After Pain or cry for minutes on end like in her first interrogation.

Either way, in my eyes she deserved every bit of that verdict, and I don't feel bad for her at all. Sucks to be Haruka, though. I mean having to tie something that simply isn't about him to his own wellbeing the level of commitment is wild but still sucks. Well, if she wasn't validated to begin with, then maybe things would be different... However, if you feed beasts and run out of food, something is getting eaten. At that point, the best a person can do is hope it's not them.

[scenefox2003]

Matchmaker

Aka I needed to write something happy after. That.

Olivia smiled to herself as the breeze blew gently through her hair, and and ruffled the edge of the cape she was mending. Marcy, the owner of said cape, sat on the edge of the koi pond next to her, blissfully kicking her legs back and forth while she watched the fish and sucked on a popsicle. It truly was a beautiful summer day. It was warm but not too hot, the clouds in the sky were almost cartoonishly puffy, and she was drinking her favorite juice. Everything was perfect. Nothing could possibly interrupt this moment-

“Lady Olivia, do you have a crush on General Yunan?”

Olivia spat out her juice, getting it all over the cape and probably in the koi pond (was that bad for them?)

“What.”

“Do you like General Yunan?” She asked again, innocently tilting her head.

“Do I- do I like General Yunan?”

Marcy smiled around her popsicle.

“Mhm!”

Lady Olivia tried her best to keep a straight face (pun intended) but couldn’t restrain from cringing.

“Well, of course I like her, she’s a competent warrior and a trusted colleague-“

“No, I mean like, do you like like her, like how Alphys likes Undyne,” Marcy said, as if that made any more sense. But Olivia knew what Marcy was asking, she just didn’t want to answer it. She all the sudden focused really hard on her sewing, and Marcy leaned forward to try and see what was so interesting. Seeing nothing, she continued. “Like do you think she’s pretty? And do you wanna hold her hand and marry her?”

Olivia wanted to laugh at how childish that sounded, she wanted to do a lot more than just hold her hand. But she kept up her aloof attitude.

“Why are you asking me this?” She asked rather curtly.

“Because I see you looking at her a lot. And you make a point that your tails always brush each other in the hallway, and you blush ever so slightly whenever she calls you milady, and you call everybody else by their full titles but you always call her just Yunan or General, and whenever you say General it has a certain tone to it that implies that something about it makes you-

“Okay, fine, that’s enough,” Olivia interrupted, her face tinged red. “How do you always notice these things?” She asked, a bit of annoyance leaking into her voice.

Marcy shrugged.

“I dunno.”

Her popsicle was starting to melt all over her hands, and she went to lick it. Olivia scoffed at her lack of manners.

“Don’t do that.”

“But it’s sticky!”

She sighed and gently grabbed Marcy’s wrists, then pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and started wiping her hands off for her.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do… admire the General, just a little bit.” She didn’t meet Marcy’s gaze, once again pretending to be very invested in what she was doing.

“Only a little bit?”

“Yes Marcy, only a little bit.”

The large glass sliding door opened, and Olivia and Marcy both turned to see who it was. Standing in the doorway was Yunan herself, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, wraparound sunglasses, and swim trunks. She had a popsicle between her teeth, and she was carrying one of those massive rolling coolers under her arm like it was a football or something.

At the sight of the two, Yunan lifted her sunglasses onto her forehead.

“Greetings Milady, Master Marcy. Enjoying the nice weather?”

Olivia felt her face flush, and it wasn’t because of the heat. Marcy noticed, but became more fixated on the cooler.

“Can I have a popsicle?”

“Please don’t give her another one,” Olivia sighed.

“How about an ice cream sandwich?”

“That’s even messier!”

“Sorry Liv, but I take orders from the king, not you. And he said to give Master Marcy whatever she wants.”

Marcy smirked at the use of the nickname Liv, but Olivia acted like she was annoyed about the popsicle thing instead.

“He spoils her.”

“Says the one lovingly sewing up her cape like a doting mother.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh don’t get like that, it’s cute.”

Yunan started digging around in the cooler, and Olivia looked away and down at the pond in a sad attempt to hide her blushing. Still, she couldn’t help but notice Yunan gave Marcy the popsicle, which she had stated was the less messy option. Her face got even redder.

Yunan was about to sit down by the pond herself, until a voice called for her from inside the castle.

“General Yunan! The bugball game has ended in yet another massive fan brawl! Come break it up!”

Yunan let out an obnoxious, fifteen second long groan.

“God damn it, I can’t get ONE single day off! Looks like you’ll have to enjoy the sun without my glorious presence. Catch ya later, nerds.”

Yunan bit into the wooden popsicle stick as hard as she could, chewed, swallowed, tilted her redneck dad sunglasses back down, then made her leave.

“She’s so dreamy,” Olivia whispered to herself, and Marcy grinned and started flapping her hands.

“You DO like her!” She shouted.

“Oh hush, she’ll hear you!” Olivia scolded, then sighed. “But yes. You’re right. I like her.”

“Aaaaawwwwww!” Marcy cooed. “That’s so sweet! I totally ship it!”

“Ship?” Olivia asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion. Marcy didn’t bother to explain, just continued gushing.

“You two would make SUCH a cute couple! You’re so perfect for each other! The strong general and the elegant noblewoman falling in love… it’s just like a fairy tale! Or a video game! Or a FANFICTION! You HAVE to tell her how you feel!”

Olivia sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Oh heavens no. I could never.”

“WHAT?! Why not?!” Marcy bit into her popsicle just like she’d seen Yunan do, but her face quickly contorted in pain and she went back to sucking instead.

“Oh there’s a plethora of reasons. First of all, it’s unprofessional.”

“Aw, King Andrias wouldn’t care!”

“He should,” Olivia muttered to herself, digging a beer out of the cooler. “And even if that wasn’t an issue, I don’t even know if she likes me that way.”

“Aww, she totally does!”

“You’re just saying that because you want us to get together,” Olivia smiled.

“No! I’m saying it because it’s true! She calls you LIV!”

“That- that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just a nickname!”

“Does she have a nickname for anyone else?”

“Well… hmmm… she calls you kiddo sometimes.”

“I don’t count!

“Well, then I guess she doesn’t.”

“See?! She likes you!”

“Even still, it might not mean anything.”

“But it COULD! Newtopia is a place where dreams come true! It’s like Italy! Or Comic Con!”

Olivia laughed, patting Marcy’s head fondly.

“I guess it could.”

“Yeah!”

Marcy dug her journal out of her bag and started sketching, chewing her popsicle stick in concentration.

“What’re you drawing?” Olivia asked.

“Fanart of you and General Yunan!”

“You are ONE cutesy quip away from being pushed into this pond.”

Ten years later, when Olivia and Yunan got their first house together, a drawing of two anime lizards holding hands with a popsicle stain in the corner was displayed proudly in a golden frame on their living room wall.

[bangtanintotheroom]

MY FIRST REQUEST IS TO SEE HOW THE CONVERSATION WOULD GO DOWN BETWEEN HOLIDAY INN OC AND HARDLINE NAMJOON IF THEY WERE TO SMASH

LUCE YOU WILD LMAO

Unlikely Proposal

• Pairing: Rapper!Namjoon x Businesswoman!(F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rap Group!AU, Humor, Enemies to Lovers(?)

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 830

• Summary: You’re approached with an interesting offer by the last person you expected it to come from.

• Warnings/themes: Joon is still a dickhead, swearing, wandering eyes, flirting, Y/N is a boss, mentions of choking (not the sexy kind), hookup(?)

• Notes: What a request, the way I screamed 💀 this is a very interesting scenario and it was fun to write out this unlikely couple for a little ‘what if’ drabble! This takes place after night two in Holiday Inn ✨

• Taglist: @parkdatjimin @jimilter @joontied @highly-functioning-mitochondria @swweetnightt @sunshinerainbowsbts @minttangerines @miscelunaaa @sugalaritae @herecomesjoon @sopeorsoaporsoup @cris1984love @kookiecrumb @codeinebelle @ssaboala @sexyuntitl3d @aliimac @i-dont-give-a-fok @kookieswanan @joonbo

Was this a big, sick joke?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, babygirl—”

A tongue slid out and ran over full lips.

“You gonna let me slide into that tight skirt of yours and see what’s hiding underneath?”

You couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of the hulking man standing in front of you right now. The two of you were cussing each other out the prior night and now he was asking to…do God knows what, with you today?

“Am I going to— Have you hit your head?”

“What? What’s the problem?”

“You called me a party pooper!”

“So?”

“You called me a wet blanket!”

“Okay, and?”

A growl escaped. “You told me to get some fucking ear plugs. And you talked shit about my pantsuit!”

“…oh yeah, I did. Eh, ear plugs work wonders and I guess your pantsuit wasn’t too bad.”

Did your eye just twitch? It must have after the nonsense you just heard coming out of Namjoon’s mouth. All the insults he spouted at you and he had the audacity to ask to hook up with you?

Now, your eyes weren’t blinded to what was in plain view. He was a good-looking man and seemed to take great care of his appearance, judging by the clean-shaven jawline, the neatness of his haircut and the jewelry that didn’t have a speck of dirt on them.

But it was his attitude that brought him to the bottom of the barrel for you.

He was worse than his lanky friend, having little tact with the way he spoke and the nerve to assume that you were going to throw yourself at his feet the second he flashed those dimples at you. Like it would erase all of those nasty things he said.

Your next instinct was to tell him to go suck a fat one and leave but a lightbulb went off.

Maybe you could have a little fun with the meathead…

“Not too bad? That’s all?”

Namjoon poked his tongue into his cheek, dragon eyes traveling from your inquisitive face all the way down to your feet.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m not gonna front, you’re bad as hell—” A smirk. “But that outfit wasn’t doing you justice. This one, however…”

His gaze unmistakably lingered on the curve of your hips, emphasized by the skirt you donned.

“This one is a winner.”

…okay, maybe you felt a little something at the way he said that. Only because of his deep voice. He was still a prick, though.

Your lips curled a mite, folding your arms across your chest.

“I see…but why me? Clearly you’ve got a swarm of women vying for your attention, why go for your uptight neighbor?”

Namjoon hummed to himself, shrugging those broad shoulders of his.

“I like a bit of a challenge sometimes. That, and I’ve been noticing how Hobi’s been looking at you. I wanna see if I can get a taste of you before he tries anything.”

Hoseok? Looking at you in that way? Yeah right. Those looks he gave you the last time were probably just to get your guard down so your noise complaint wouldn’t make its way to the front desk.

“So whaddya say, babygirl?”

Namjoon stepped forward, forcing your neck to crane a bit to look into his cocky face.

“Wanna step into your room and get on a better page this time around?”

Your eyes wandered all over his figure, looking for a tell that said ‘psych, I’d never sleep with your bitchy self’ but you couldn’t spot it.

This guy was dead serious.

You remained silent for a little longer before motioning the taller man to come closer with a crook of your finger. As soon as he leant down, your impassive expression morphed into one of thunder. Balling his shirt into your fists, you tugged him in and hissed in his ear.

“I will never, in a million years, touch your vulgar, womanizing ass. I’m not one of your groupies or fans so don’t try that shit with me, understand?”

You didn’t even give him a chance to respond before pushing him back, eyes still narrowed.

“And you can tell your friend that if he tries to come after me next, I’m choking him out with that stupid chain of his. Goodbye.”

Brushing imaginary lint off your pressed skirt, you spun on your heel and made your way to the elevator, only waiting for a few seconds before the lift arrived. The metal doors shut, leaving the rapper gaping after you still.

Was it foolish of him to attempt that? Yeah, but Kim Namjoon wasn’t a quitter; he didn’t get this far in his career by giving up whenever someone said no. But something about that fire in your eyes as you warned him made him decide to back off.

Huffing, he checked his shirt for wrinkles before heading back to his room.

Forget her. Maybe he should leave her scary ass for Hoseok to deal with…

©bangtanintotheroom, 2022. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[persephoneflouwers]

Hi! Since you have been taking a closer look at the lyrics I'd be keen to get your take on why louis refers to faith in the future as more hopeful than walls. However, half of his songs refer to hearbreak and loss of sth big. I can't get the connection really. Also looking at the last songs on Harry's house ( did you ever look into these lyrics moreclosely?) it really raises a few questions with me who Subject in these songs is as they seem to correspond with fitf

Your view would be greatly appreciated.!

Hello! 🌸

Mmh, I don’t really see much heartbreak and loss in fitf (except for Saturday which is about grief)… I mean he’s definitely talking about missing and nostalgia imo, but I think missing someone/something does not equal you lost it cause «maybe you don’t know what’s lost til you find it» right?

In general, to solve this controversy with these topics, I would say that if you perceive these huge elements in the album then maybe it makes even more sense for it to be about faith in the future? You need faith when you are at your lows, usually. That’s typical Louis attitude there: optimism, positivity, the “it is what it is but I hope it will be better, I know it will get better” state of mind. You mentioned Harry’s House… I haven’t spent much time on his lyrics except for Keep driving, Satellite and partially LOML, because I struggled a bit with it and really couldn’t relate to it, but I’m working on this slowly lol Anyway since you’ve mentioned it, both HsH and FITF give me lockdown vibes to me. Conceptually, Louis said it to, “faith in the future” felt like a motto in a moment where the world was sort of changing. I think he wanted to find his motto.

In summa, I lowkey agree with you. It’s a bit of an oxymoron, since the album cover, if you’d like. You look at the face, the chosen font, the entire aesthetic and you wonder what’s faithful in that lol but Walls to me was looking back, kinda reminiscing some aspects that could have been different. It’s about acknowledging things that happens and are now with him on his journey. He questions a lot of choices and fights a bit with the consequences of those. Faith in the future is about accepting some things sucks, they can or cannot change but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I kinda see a development between the two albums: Walls has much insightful perspective, but with FITF he kinda zooms out and looks at things from above, from where your personal problems seem pretty small if compared with bigger things.

If you want to share, why would you see heartbreak and loss in it? And what about Harry’s House is giving you these thoughts?

[lifes-little-pin-pricks]

Can Do Attitude

Before we get to my ramblings... This quote kinda hits my hard.. Because I'm still trying to understand my mind.

--------------------

I've been trying to assess what it is about the actresses that I like.

The ones that I wish I could be like.

June/Anne Lockhart in Trolls (1986)

Michelle Rodriguez in

Resident Evil

Fast and Furious

Jane Seymour in Dr. Quinn

Jessica Biel in Blade 2

Jennifer Lopez in Enough

Mary Stuart Masterson in Fried Green Tomatoes (Idgie Threadgood)

Lori Petty in In the Army Now

I don't know.. I'm sure theres more - But.. These are the ones I thought of currently. What trend do you see in these characters?

I think …. I THINK… I might have figured out part of it…. They didn’t seem afraid.

The 'CAN DO' attitude with the ability to ACTUALLY 'DO'

There is a Presence to them. When they talk, people listen. When they walk in the room, they draw eyes (even if its just to notice them and nothing more). They could kick your ass in some way be it with knowledge wit or fists. Nothing gullible about them. Always had some kind of strategy for situations they knew were going to be ugly.

Well Hell! - I'm in the middle of work and this thought crossed my mind and I started writing and now it's going down a damn rabbit whole with water dripping from my face.  Hell of a way to start the day. I notice my head feels like a lot went through it, but looking back, I've barely said a thing. It feels like a lot to me.

Anyways… These People… Characters, that I aspire to be like… They were SEEN.  They didn't have to be mean about anything, but they could still make a very sound point. They were the ones that would catch the fist that wanted to punch them, or someone else and spin it around, Capable.

I don't know what that says to me though.

This  reminds me of how invisible I felt most of my life.

I considered maybe it was because these characters were strong, could whoop some ass. But I don't think that is it at all. It never felt quite right, and I didn’t have any reaction to that thought. But this one… Has me feeling very broken.

I noticed recently  how I promote this invisibility.  I'm working very hard at not feeling like if someone thought of me, that I have been an inconvenience to them. Accepting Compliments and the want to hang out with me instead of feeling like all interactions with me are more out of pity than actual enjoyment.

I can already hear my friends clamoring to say that is so far from the truth. And While I think a part of me knows this, its super ingrained in me.

"Oh! Don't fuss over me, I'll be fine" - Physically. I always look at Physically I will be fine. Never really considered Mental health.

"Oh! You didn't have to go through the trouble for me!" - Please - don’t put effort into making me feel like I exist. And yet - here I am yearning for that.

Effort.

I also I go for things that are "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain" Gigs.  I wall flower or over share or feel like I suck the oxygen out of the room. For a JOB - I like the behind the scenes stuff, I even like being the agent level. But there is seldom recognition when you are the man behind the curtain. Seldom seen/noticed to be anyone.

You  don't make much money in those gigs. I hate being a Supervisor with required coachings and things like that. Its not natural. I will teach those who WANT to learn, I'm not going to force an uninterested party to pay attention just because its their job.  I'm Rambling and being very tangenty.

I had a conversation with my partner the a little while back about how I put so much into what I give. The thought.. Making sure whatever IT is, is carefully planned out to ensure that what ever I give is useful.  Ugh - I'm not explaining this well at all. At least this part. So were skipping it. You still get the mess of it though. Because - this is my blog. And yeah - it might be a diary/journal, but… Why do these have to be secret? Isn't seeing in other peoples heads sometimes helpful? To know you aren't alone? That you can find solace that you aren't the variant (so to speak)  or maybe you want to be the variant.  Or maybe you don't compare yourself to others because you have finally broke through this lack of self esteem and whatever else is the issue with us. Yeah. US.

You are part of this club whether you like it or not.

So on of the dawning realizations about these women.

They walk into a room with a plan and can execute that plan, They are determined, They Follow Through, Strong, Can use your help or do without it. They are what I would call "Bad Ass" - though I have learned in my years that not everyone defines things the same way.

Bad Ass: (My Definition): Strong, No Bull Shit, Catches Lip and Gives Lip back, Not Naïve, Action, Can hold their own in battle of wits, fists or otherwise. Skills that surprise others.  So I guess…. Well rounded? 

Ugh -- Inspiration to write has faded… Going back to work now LOL

[spidey-bie]

I feel like Moxie and Ansi has potential for a dynamic but I don't know which. Maybe frenemies? Maybe those two motherfuckers who can't stop roasting each other at the family gathering, but it's just banter and doesn't mean shit? Straight up thought;

Moxie would never be able to stand being in the spider society. Full stop, they just can't stand being in there. As a result, they'd actually hate Movie! Hobie for the mere fact that they believe that making sure someone is alright isn't equal to abandoning all of your morals and playing inter-dimensional cop whilst riding the cock of a fascist ideal into the ground. Once you start deporting people who didn't get to choose where they end up, you lost any chance of their respect. That's only because they've never met anyone who would also stay in there that they'd care that much about. Different life experiences in play in very hard ways. Moxie loves no motherfucker, anything you get with them is hard earned via respect and admiration and continued on those principles. So, right off the bat they'd probably be bickering because Moxie doesn't care enough to quiet down when they're roasting a motherfucker. (Writer's opinion is not my character's opinion. I love the ride or die Hobie has going on for Gwen. It's sweet as fuck)

"This fucking skinny ass sell-out of a cocksucker? This is what the fuck you want? I mean, go for it if your standards are that fucking low you'd stick with that. Just start looking for women's shelters." They'd say this. They'd mean it because they wouldn't bother getting to know the fucker before making those claims, they're that much of a fucking prick when they want to be. That attitude over Hobie is getting the two of them into some fucking beef with each other, I know it.

Ansi would probably fucking hate this random prick who showed up in their dimension and had something against someone they care about. It's after that when I feel like they'd have a begrudging relationship though. Like,

Ansi: "Hey, Look what I found of your ugly ass face!" handling moxie blackmail photos Moxie: "Damn, Mate, I look fucking stupid as shit in this. Hold up." Moxie takes a photo of the picture with their phone and sends it to their family group chat. 8 people start typing. Ansi: ??? This bitch has no shame?

Moxie once they reach the point of inter-dimensional travel is so passively not-giving a fuck because of their innate ability to control fucking reality that you could pull probably anything on them and it wouldn't have a horribly bad reaction. Nothing is a boundary killer when you can leave any fucking time you want and can make sure nobody touches you via just popping out of the other side of the room. Moxie's innate ability to get anything they want via just stealing it from another dimension means that Ansi is probably going to them to get shit for scheming in cases of lack of funds and no easy way to manipulate their way through it. Moxie would literally just look up at them and go "This isn't gonna end up with someone dead, right?" "Fuck no" "Alright, go play." The two begrudging acquaintances. Lying for someone is for anyone and having someone face quicker karma is even more universal.

Bro this is genuinely so funny to me. (Also so glad somebody mentioned the whole anomaly thing kinda sucking. Why are y'all imprisoning them? You have the ability to open dimensions at will do why do you need to hold them captive? There's a post coming later I promise.)

But back to oc things. I can see this so well you don't even know. Ansi's sitting there like "I hate that nigga Moxie fr" but if someone says something about them all of sudden he's Moxie's biggest supporter. "Whatchu say about my homie Moxie? I know you're not talking bout Moxie like that 😐?"

Moxie 🫱🏼‍🫲🏾 Ansi

Shameless.

If anyone ever tries to get bad pictures of Ansi I swear he's about to put it on a shirt to wear around HQ. She don't be caring.

As I said before Ansi is there for tech reasons only. Quite literally could care less about the whole canon thing. Only does stealth missions or helps out when a Spider can't deal with an issue themselves and even those require her to either be bribed or Hobie has to be put on the mission too.

PFFFFT I LOVE THAT LAST PARAGRAPH. Just imagining Ansi coming to Moxie with a list is killing me 😂

UGHHHH I LOVE THIS DYNAMIC SM.

[mangodestroyer]

You know, they say you should avoid toxic people/environments, or leave them if you encounter them. But at this point, I don't really know how that would be possible.

I've come to learn that the world is full of assholes. And tbh, that was one of the hardest things to get used to in adulthood. Especially since I'd let some MAJOR assholes into my personal life. These guys are everywhere. In every profession, hobby, state, country, etc. And they come from all the different walks of life. Sometimes, they became that way because they were spoiled growing up. Sometimes, they just went through it and decided to become what hurt them. Sometimes, they really were just born that way. Point is, they think they're more important than everyone else, and they suck to deal with. And yes, I've even seen psychologists suggest they make up a good chunk of the population. At least an eighth. So they really are that common.

It's something that gets brought up when I look into academia and some of the schools I'd like to attend for my master's. My state happens to have a handful of prestigious institutions (one that's even in the top 20's in the nation). And... surprise! People bring up constantly how these schools are competitive and are full of assholes who think they're the shit.

Thing is... I've already dealt with that before? I took AP classes in hs, but it wasn't so bad then. But at the first school I went to, which happened to be prestigious (just not top 20), there were definitely a lot of horribly competitive, toxic, and egotistical assholes. If anything, I'm surprised the program I'm attending rn isn't like that. It's also above average, but it is online, so it does tend to draw in an older crowd/people who just want to learn.

And like I said, it's not like this shit doesn't exist elsewhere. I've been working in retail for three years. In a shitty small town. The rich snob attitude may not be so present, but there are definitely still assholes. I've legit had a manager call me r*tarded and give me tons of shit until I said something to someone (and she did this in front of other co-workers and customers). In fact, based on the two places I've worked, the co-workers can sometimes be worse than the customers (who you will probably only see for five minute max anyway). If they aren't criticizing the way you do your job or straight up verbally abusing you, they'll just act like you're too weird or annoying and sort of just shun you. Not everyone. But I'm not exactly related to anyone in this small town, nor do I fit in with the culture. So I stick out like a sore thumb. They've only recently started warming up to me a little more, but that's because I really had to learn to suppress who I am around them and be boring/agreeable.

As for customers, grey rocking and being less people pleasy makes customer service easier.

At least in a school environment, with thousands of people on campus, you can maybe look around and hope to find someone you vibe with. Tbh, I actually hate my retail environment more than when I was around those rich snobs. At least people weren't judging me for drinking bubble tea of all things (and don't think that's stopping me from buying more and drinking it at work, I just thought it was weird that my supervisor seemed bothered by it, and it just means that people will always find a reason to have problems with you so idc anymore). And I could actually talk about what I was doing in school, or the fact that I go to school at all (which is another conversation point people seem to loathe, even when they ASK). Retail likely taught me the useful skill of just keeping it shallow and neutral with people until you know them better. I have the autistic tendency to want to overshare and infodump and I've been working on doing that a lot less irl. But being so suppressed like that hasn't been good for my mental health.

So ig my point is that I'd like to pick which assholes I can tolerate more. Campus life can be a lot of fun because there are still tons of people you can try and get along with. And there are lots of things to do and explore as well. Even if you find that you don't like the people, you still might like what you're doing in school, or what the campus has to offer. My other option atm is to not get an education and almost guarantee that I will continue working shitty fucking jobs with no end in sight.

[mxmasters]

we know you wear a binder, but have you thought about getting top surgery?

that's. sorta personal. also, complicated. for, uh, ontological reasons. gonna put it under a cut, bc gender/dysphoria talk.

bottom line: I've thought about top surgery every day for the past six(-ish) years. Dysphoria is a "splinter in your mind" thing. Once you're aware of it, you're never not aware of it, and once you find a way through it... god damn! it's like breathing fresh air for the first time ever.

I'm not happy being seen as a woman. I'm not happy being saddled with this extra weight, and wearing a binder all the time isn't healthy. (Take breaks, folks. Your ribs and lungs will thank you.) But... that said... I'm not sure yeeting my tits is really an option right now.

Y'all know I have tracking issues, right? I sorta, drop out of the story sometimes. So, like... what happens if I go under for surgery, and some mundane doctor forgets I exist? That would suck. That would suck real bad. That means option one is not actually a viable option.

Option two: find a fleshcrafter. Not as easy as you might think! Nälkän communities are super insular and I don't want to step on any toes. (Plus, idk about their cultural attitudes towards gender assigned at birth, and at this point I'm afraid to ask.)

Option three: ask GAW for help. Sounds like a no-brainer, right? We're a bunch of magical queers. Trouble is... I've never actually told anyone about my tracking issues. Let alone where they come from. (Tanya has a vague idea of what went down, but she doesn't know specifics.) So... what happens if I ask for help, and they try sharing some of their juice with me? Would that work? Or would we get blended together, like some Cronenbergian fuckup? I don't want to risk that. They're family.

Jude offered to help once. Just. Out of the blue. No buildup, no explanation. "I could get rid of those for you." That was the only time we've actually argued. Because... fuck me, that's not something you just say! That's like knocking on some trans person's door and saying, "You need The Surgery? I could hook you up." He was trying to be nice, but wow. Maybe don't talk about shit you don't understand.