#should i just make a new acc...... stares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mirnilop · 9 months

Text

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

418 notes · View notes

the-moon-files · 5 months

Text

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain :)

Part 1 (ur here!) / Part 2 / Part 3

Sun: Gender Neutral! Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: First, Sky, Four, Legend

Comets & Meteors: Content: None Known & Triggers: None Known.

U have a lot of Nicknames: Guide, Hero's Guide, Prince, Princey, Star, (more to be added?).

☆

First (Manga!Link):

Has "too good" of posture lol

It makes his back stiff and by the time he's in his bedroll he's confused about why it feels better, silly silly man

Just in general tenses his muscles too often, so whenever u offer to massage him, he nearly crumbles on the spot

(the others know exactly how amazing ur massages are, and are fully staring at him in jealousy lol)

Gets little rips and tears in his clothing all the time somehow??

Even tho he wont have a scratch acc on him after hours of battle???

mans could be flying around Skyloft with only clouds touching him and come back pouting telling you he ripped his scarf again :'(

Likes to be slightly in front of you most of the time, especially in new places/other Links' Hyrules

It just makes him feel better knowing he's both protecting you, and that you're watching his back

(Most Links feel at their best/most confident when your voice can be heard just over their shoulder, not that they don't love seeing ur face now too)

Sky (Skyward Sword Link):

Is slowly making everyone he knows a collection of wooden figurines

He usually carves when he's bored or stressed

so needless to say this mission of the Shadow (slow going, stressful at times like Twi getting hurt)

Has made him give u an army of little wooden figures (everyone else gets a small collection bc ur the first he gives one to)

Did i say give? Excuse me, i meant:

sneaks them as a little surprise into your belongings or clothing or other personal effects

This started bc after a week or two of him giving you wooden things you tried to reroute him to other ppl,

so Sky just made it his mission to see how many he can sneak instead onto you on any given day lmao

(Also he may or may not have daydreamed abt being able to carve u things and actually physically give them to you on his adventure before, so he's taking advantage of being able to now)

Has luscious hair at all times, little to no effort, Wars is so pissed abt it lol

Mf responded when asked what products he used (by poor Wars too) with, "wym?? With water??? And soap????"

Never ties his boot laces

You will all be gearing up for battle and go to stalk and stealth kill monsters and right before u get up on them u always have to look over at Sky's shoes and whisper at him to tie them

Is the most likely to plant face first into the ground or trip and fall on his ass from shoes untying

He just didnt need to with being in the clouds on his Loftwing all the time back on Skyloft and so he never rlly adapted to that even on the surface lol

He's also just miserable at doing a decent knot so you've taken to teaching him repeatedly how to tie them-

why didnt the knight academy help with this at all actually??

(Wind makes fun of him be hes a sailor and knows like 10+ knots)

Four (Four Swords/Minish Cap Link):

Loses his tools constantly

Well not really "lose" so much as "slightly misplace"

It drives him crazy, the Minish used to help him with it back in his Hyrule so he got out of the habit of putting things back where they belong

You've gotten to the point where you'll glance over wherever he's working so the next time he comes up to u complaining abt a lost hammer or smth u immediately just "should be over by the fire"

And ur right, 99.9% of the time its so funny

Bc Four's all like "wtf ive moved around so much since then i took all the other tools with me- MF. U WERE RIGHT."

Is rlly good at like color matching, comes in handy for new outfits

Also has aches and pains like in his hands and arms mostly

Bc of all the forge work, and absolutely treasures any massages u offer him

Likes to wear matching jewelry with you! Like earrings or piercings or necklaces etc

Also has good taste in jewelry and what looks good on everyone + you

Legend (Link to the Past, Link's Awakening etc):

Unfortunately the type of person to just shove things in his bag willy nilly

Its the horder tendencies, he just has a lot of stuffs so he gave up trying to organize it

Actually really good at styling hair, Legend would absolutely lie abt it if u asked but he can spend as much time on his hair as Warrior

Likes to experiment with new clothes, like skirts or bright colors, esp if they match some of his clothes already

U ran by some makeup one time in another Hyrule and he knew how to use it rlly well??

Lies abt random skills he has, or like thinks skills he already has can translate well,

like he's rode a horse before wym he can't drive Wild's motorcycle??

Or fly a Loftwing???

Well now its a challenge

Tbh most competitive over stupid things randomly out of all the Links besides Wild, Wind, Wars, and occasionally Hyrule + Sky + Time

Got challenged to try and go shield surfing with u once and thought that horse-riding skill would transfer and it did in fact Not.

Actually kinda scared the other Links watching u two spin out and crash ngl, what with doing an accidental backflip? Midair??

but u both were okay somehow???

Also weirdly lucky, u stg he's got some sort of ring or blessing for that

☆

IT ACCIDENTALLY POSTED I FUCKING HATE TUMBLR ITS DONE THIS TO ME MULTIPLE TIMES NOW 😭😭

All the Links WOULD HAVE been here if it werent for fucking tumblr

Ill post more parts soon if anyone is interested

Peace out,

🌙

#male reader #botw link x reader #loz link x reader #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu x male reader #lu x masc reader #lu sky x reader #lu first x reader #lu legend x reader #lu four x reader

318 notes · View notes

mncxbe · 5 months

Note

Hi! Your acc is so awesome honestly and so cute it makes my heart do the smiley emote :)

My request is chuuya x reader, where reader isn't feeling well but doesn't wanna bother chuuya (not feeling well as in mentally) but reader really wants to cuddle with chuuya, so eventually they cave and call chuuya to ask if they can come over just to cuddle and watch a movie and chuuya is worried if they're ok. Reader reaches and kinda falls into chuuyas arms and they chill and cuddle for the rest of the night <3

Have a heavenly day!

tysm nonnie you're really sweet♡♡ and I absolutely love this idea. I changed it up a slight bit so I hope it's alright and you like it♡

°☆○

I'll bring the coffee if you bring the wine♡

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff♡/ barely proofread sorry in advance for any mistakes

You stared down at the glowing screen, thumb lingering just above the arrow shaped button. Should you actually send the text?

Your boyfriend was probably at home by now so it's not like you'd bother him at work, but you still didn't see it fit to text him so late in the evening. After all, you've only been together for two months and asking him to come over at 10 p.m seemed a little strange; and what if he was out with some friends and you'd mess up his plans?

You took in a deep breath, trying to push these thoughts in the back of your mind. Your day has been more than miserable and all you wanted was to spend some time with your partner. Finally pressing the send button, you set the phone down beside you and turned on the tv, switching from channel to channel in attempt to keep your mind occupied.

Chuuya's reply came through almost instantly. 'Sure, I'll be over in a few. Is everything alright?'. You texted back a quick 'Yea. Just feeling a bit down' before returning your gaze to the tv screen.

Around half an hour later, the light buzz of the electric lock announced Chuuya's arrival. Gathering your remaining strength you got off the couch and tip-toed to the hall to find him taking off his coat.

"Hey baby. You feeling alright?" he asked in his usual gentle voice but you just nodded in response.

You were too mentally exhausted to give him an actual reply, to tell him how burnt out and miserable you felt so you simply reached out your arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

Chuuya immediately returned the hug, one of his gloved hands resting atop your hair as he pulled you closer to him. You closed your eyes, feeling your mind slowly quieting down; the dark thoughts that've been bothering you for days now evaporating into thin air.

You couldn't bring yourself to pull away, not even when he removed his hand from your head and gently cupped your jaw, tilting it up so he could get a glimpse of your face.

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you sweetie, or shall I let you be?"

"I don't really wanna talk about it. I've just had some shitty days and I missed you." you confessed, voice carrying a slight edge that Chuuya didn't miss.

"Alright, how about we go watch a movie then? Sure it's gonna make you feel better."

You made your way to the couch and nestled yourself beside Chuuya, arms wrapped loosely around his waist; his own arm draped over your shoulder, bringing you closer to his chest as he took off his gloves to run his fingers through your hair. Sighing softly, you leaned into his touch, allowing him to coax the summertime sadness out of you with each gentle caress.

You could feel his hot breath against your temple, his lips peppering your face with feathery kisses and you couldn't help but smile; you were melting into his arms like candle wax.

"Feeling better babe?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Way better. Thank you Chuu" you beamed, briefly pressing your lips to his. He gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before returning his attention to the movie you ended up watching, and old picture film about a girl in New York City.

The warmth and comfort of his embrace lulled you into a dreamy langour, eyes heavy with sweet, powdery stardust. Chuuya felt you slowly relax into his arms and smiled, heat blooming in his chest. He watched you slowly close your eyes and remained motionless until the end of the movie when he slowly reached for the remote.

Feeling the sudden motion you groaned, eyes fluttering open as you tugged lightly at his shirt.

"Don't leave yet" you mumbled and he couldn't help but chuckle; your sleepy face was the prettiest thing he's ever laid eyes upon.

He switched off the tv and pulled your head back on his chest, savouring your presence and the quietude of your apartment, dimly lit only by the glow of the city.

"Don't worry dear. I'm not going anywhere"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #chuuya fluff #chuuya x reader #bsd chuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara

199 notes · View notes

forjongseong · 1 year

Text

first mate // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: quartermaster!jay x firstmate!fem!reader

genre: pirates!au, smut (minors dni) // warning: profanity, mentions of death, unprotected sex // wc: ~2.3k

summary: After the passing of the Captain, you had to mourn in your own way. Your ship's Quartermaster, Jay, showed his concern for you, and it tugged your heart in a way that you never thought could happen.

author’s note: you didn't think that I would look at Jay's wet pictures and just leave them be, right? of course I had to make a fic out of it.

my immediate reaction was that the HALF concept pictures were perfect for my fic on my sfw acc, but then I figured I should just leave that fic alone and just write something new. so here it is!

no song inspiration either for this. just a little wordplay towards the end. hope you like it! and do let me know if you prefer longer fics like the archer and his queen, or shorter ones like this and free fall

taglist (please send an ask or DM if you want to be added or removed!) @end-hyphen @hee-pster @maggstar @shinkenprincess-oh @nyanggk @yoursjaeyun @thots4hee @bucketofhiros @dimplejaehyuncutie @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @rosesbxrry @excusememissiloveyou

The light of the moon was reflected against the deep blue sea, providing enough for the ship’s crew to see everything that was taking place. The flames on the lit candles were fighting against the soft breeze of the night, and every time a candle was blown off, the Quartermaster stood up to light it again.

“You know that is not your job to do, mate,” Jake said, putting his jug of rum down beside him.

Jay shrugged. “I’m not gonna wait for any of you to do it.”

The other two boys snickered at each other before they continued playing their self-made board game, using peanut shells and actual shells as bets. Heeseung, while waiting for his turn, stretched his neck and spotted a figure leaning over the deck above the captain’s cabin.

“She’s staring at the water again,” Heeseung commented.

Sunghoon and Jake lifted their heads to take a good look before redirecting their focus to the board game. Jay merely sighed after the men resumed playing.

“It’s only been a week since her father’s death,” Jay replied. “She probably needs some time.”

“We do need to vote for a new captain, though,” Sunghoon chimed in. “Given that she has served as First Mate for our late captain for years, I think she’d be fit to lead.”

Jake eyed Jay wearily before looking at Sunghoon. “You really just said that in front of the Quartermaster.”

Jay scoffed and waved his hand. “I’m not looking for a promotion.”

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Well, I think you’d make a great captain too. Which is why we need to vote. The crew is divided at this moment.”

“Maybe you should have a talk with her,” Jake continued. “You know, since you are second in command.”

Jay took a last sip of his ale before wincing and nodding, gulping his drink down. “I’ll do it later.”

After a couple more games and half-drunken conversations, the three men returned to their cabins after helping Jay clean up. Jay then noticed that you were still standing in the same place, but this time closer to the edge. He decided to have the talk with you right then and there.

With light footsteps, he walked up the stairs. As he approached your figure, he called out for you.

“Miss Wood…”

His voice trailed off after he witnessed you jumping off the ship, leaving your shoes and your jacket behind. After the loud splash, Jay blinked twice and had his jaw hanging before he came to his senses. He rushed and peered over, squinting his eyes to look for you.

“Miss Wood!”

He waited for you to emerge out of the water. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Then he lost count and got restless, so he decided to jump after you. He had to adjust his sight to the darkness of the water and the saltwater burned his eyes, but he spotted your white nightgown and immediately swam to you, grabbing you by your waist before swimming upwards to the surface.

“Miss Wood!” Jay coughed, wiping his face with one hand to get a good look at you.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

You yanked Jay’s arm away from your body and steadily floated away from him. Jay looked at you in confusion.

“Miss, I know it’s hard, but there’s so much more to live for. Your crew needs you!”

“Shut up, you idiot! Stop yelling!” You angrily splashed water on Jay’s face before brushing your hair back. “You’re gonna wake up the crew.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Jay began to stutter.

“I just wanted to take a dive to clear my thoughts,” you explained.

“But you were under the water for so long…”

“It was barely a minute! You don’t think I can’t hold my breath for long? Seriously…”

The annoyance in your voice was starting to make Jay uneasy, so he let the water slowly drift him away from you. You looked up at the ship, looking around for your crew.

“I’ll go get someone,” Jay said. “Unless you still want to clear your thoughts?”

You squinted at Jay, and he swore he could hear you growl. He then made a loud whistle as he bit his lower lip, and within seconds, two men were already lowering ropes for you both. After they helped you up to the main deck, you quickly ordered them to go back to their chambers, but Jay felt so bad that he kept tailing you to the captain’s cabin.

“What do you want now, Jay?” You asked as you opened the door without even looking back, sensing his presence.

“I just wanted to make sure you returned to your cabin safely.”

You turned around and looked at Jay, then looked at the main deck which was literally not even fifty steps away. He then realized how stupid he sounded, so he just bowed for no reason before turning around and leaving you. You retreated to the captain’s cabin and began cleaning yourself up.

Moments later, you heard a knock on the door. You had no plans to sleep soon, so you decided to entertain whoever the buffoon was, bothering you so late in the night. When you opened the door, of course, you found Jay standing in front of you.

What you just noticed, though, was how good he looked with his face clean, his hair still half-wet and slicked back, and his sheer clothing that barely hid his chest and biceps.

While you were lost in your thoughts, Jay was thinking the exact same thing. He never noticed how beautiful you looked without all the garments necessary for a pirate. Your hair was let down, and the black nightgown that you changed into was also made of a similar sheer fabric that barely hid your curves. He even thought that the small scar along your right cheekbone was cute.

Cute? That was an adjective Jay never would have thought to use to describe you.

“Since you’re still awake,” Jay broke the silence. You blinked and redirected your gaze to his face. “I think I need to speak to you about our ship’s crew and their roles.”

You knew the conversation was going to take long, so without saying a word you stepped aside as you pulled the door open for Jay, letting him in. When he entered the cabin, he found that it was neat and clean, and it smelled like flowers and incense.

He wondered if that was how you smelled too.

“The crew was wondering when we will hold the vote, Miss Wood,” Jay began, shaking his head as he tried his best to focus.

“You can drop the honorifics,” you said. “It’s not like my father is still around.”

Jay hesitated for a while before he cleared his throat. “Right,” he licked his lips. “Y/N.”

You smirked to yourself as you cleared out the desk and had him sit across from you, and you did not know exactly how it happened, but you ended up having a lengthy and deep conversation with him. It started with him asking more personal questions regarding the captain, and as you answered him you began to open up and started asking him similar questions.

After a while, you reached for your pocket watch to check the time, and when you were putting it back your hand slipped. The pocket watch almost fell to the floor if you did not quickly reach for it out of reflex, but Jay did too, so now his hand was covering yours.

Again, you never noticed how thick his fingers were. Or how veiny his hands were. Or how soft his skin was.

“It’s getting late,” you sighed, pretending to be nonchalant. You stood up and the sleeve of your nightgown slipped off your shoulder. If you did not pull it back up quickly, Jay would have seen more of your chest.

Jay stood up after you and walked slowly behind you, obviously reluctant to leave the room. You sensed that he was dragging his feet, so when you held the door open you stepped only slightly aside to make way for him. While he was passing you, you did not know what came over you, but you reached for his arm and tugged his shirt.

“Jay,” you said, barely a whisper. You could not find the exact words to voice out what was in your head.

Luckily, Jay did not need words for him to understand you.

He reached for the door and pulled it away from you, carefully pushing you to the side just for him to close the door shut. He moved closer until you backed up against the door, and when you felt his hand on your waist your breath hitched.

Jay placed one hand over your head before he leaned in to kiss you, and the way your body reacted to his lips on yours was almost embarrassing. You almost melted to the wooden floor if he wasn’t holding you up, and you brought your hands up to his face to pull him closer.

You whimpered when you felt him place his leg between yours, making it impossible not to grind your crotch against his thigh. His hand that was on your waist slid downwards, bunching up the edge of your nightgown until his skin grazed yours. You continued to kiss him passionately, letting him take the lead as his tongue danced with yours, and once in a while, you would moan softly into his mouth to signal the pleasure that he was clearly giving you.

Jay lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carefully made his way to the center of the cabin. You pulled away from the kiss to look at the bed, and Jay understood immediately. After laying you down on the bed, you quickly pulled your nightgown down to reveal your breasts, and Jay chuckled at your enthusiasm, taking his time as he took off his top and his pants.

As he stood naked in front of you, you did not even realize that you were biting your lip. Your eyes were focused on his crotch, and to save you from the embarrassment of staring too long, he began hovering over you and covering your face with kisses.

“You need to take this off completely so we can be even,” he whispered into your ear.

The tip of your fingers grazed the back of his neck as you leaned in to answer him. “Then you pull it off.”

Jay nestled his face in the crook of your neck and began kissing you there, gradually getting more aggressive until he was sucking and biting your skin. He tugged your nightgown down to your knees and you kicked them away. Immediately after, you spread your legs and pulled his body closer, and you felt the tip of his cock come in contact with your wet slit.

“Fuck,” you breathed, your hands resting on Jay’s shoulders.

“I’ve barely touched you,” Jay snickered.

You let one of your hands travel downwards, grabbing his shaft. He groaned loudly and almost collapsed on top of you, and you giggled at the sudden change of his demeanor.

“Enough teasing,” you purred, stroking his length. “Let’s just fuck.”

You aligned his cock with your entrance, coating the tip with your arousal. Jay’s biceps flexed as he tried to contain his reactions, but when he entered you, you could hear his shaky breath beside your ear. You moaned in pleasure as he bottomed out, bringing your hands back up to his shoulders. You lightly tapped him, and he began grinding his hips at a pace that was not too slow but not exactly fast either. You found it intriguing since you always viewed him as someone rough, but he held you with so much care that you had no choice but to melt in his touch.

With every stroke he made, your body moved with him. Your skin shivered wherever he touched you, and whenever he kissed you, it felt like you were wrapped in a type of warmth you had never felt before. The sounds that left your lips were like music to his ears, and as he increased his speed his hand grasped your thigh, holding your leg in place. You could almost see yourself reaching your high, but he rendered you speechless, and all you could do was frantically scratch his back with every thrust.

Eventually, your hands found their way back to his face and you pulled him into a kiss once you climaxed, softly moaning into his mouth. His thrusts slowed down, but once you stopped whimpering, he began speeding up again. Your eyes began to water from the overstimulation, but after a couple more strokes he pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach.

Jay collapsed beside you, brushing his hair back with his fingers and wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. You looked at him as he panted, catching his own breath. Once he did, he looked at you and you smiled.

“Not bad,” you commented, hovering over him and straddling him for one second to leave a quick peck on his lips. He reciprocated your kiss and spanked your ass before you hopped off and walked away to retrieve your nightgown.

“So, if the crew end up voting me as the new captain,” you said as you got dressed, “does that mean I get to choose a new first mate?”

Jay shrugged, still lying down on your bed in all his naked glory. “If they choose me, will you still be my first mate?”

You looked at each other in question for a couple of seconds before Jay started laughing. You rolled your eyes and walked away to grab yourself a drink, trying to ignore the fact that what you did tonight with Jay had completely changed the meaning of the words ‘first mate’.

-END-

!!! do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work to any other platform.

531 notes · View notes

itsjaywalkers · 4 months

Note

imagine reg not knowing how snapchat works and making an account just to follow and stalk james and he screenshots something not knowing james receives a notification

INO IM GIGGLING LIKE AN INSANE WOMAN YES !!! HE WOULD HE SO WOULD !!!! he'd think he's being so sneaky so subtle and that james is never going to know. he's just living his best life, drooling over this embarrassing but also insanely hot man, filling his secret album with screenshots and staring at them whenever he gets a chance

meanwhile u have james getting notification after notification from this one acc he doesn't recognise at first glance but when he goes to check and realises who the owner is . well . he might've just won the mf lottery

regulus getting a notification of james following him back and then getting a cheeky dm immediately after, something like "i already knew u liked what u see but i didn't know u liked it THIS much ;)" which results in reg throwing his phone to the other side of the room, a sense of dread filling him as he considers what new country he should move to

#asks #ino tag cooking emoji #jegulus my beloveds

94 notes · View notes

kazukuzushii · 2 years

Text

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’ ‘yeah, for you.’

<333

Scaramouche., Diluc,. Kaeya., Childe., Venti. (separately)

genre: fluff

small but extremely cute drabbles.

A/N: huh... I've had this since my last post, which was months ago, holy shit!

if you want more, go to @dilvcs-sweetheart, which is my new acc!

kaeya

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

“Yeah, for you.” he slurred, his tone teasing you. You guys were walking around Mondstadt. He watched you as your cheeks and the tips of your ears blush red and chuckled a bit. “otherwise, no, do you?”

“Yeah, but not like you do...”

“are you trying to tell me something deep?” he teased again, “no, no, no! I love you, it's just that theres this thing—” you were going to explain what you meant before he cut you. “are you sure you love me?” he questioned, watching you go red again. Hey! He can’t blame you, he’s Kaeya, for god’s sake.

“yes, but back to what I was saying—“ he cut you off again, “gimme a kiss then,” he said, as you frustratingly stopped in your tracks, as he did the same. You gave him a small kiss on the cheek, then went back to your conversation, hopefully, you now might finish it. He kissed you on the cheek in return and continued walking with you, not interrupting this time.

“back to what I was trying to say, you know how ...”

diluc

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

you attempted to spark a conversation with Diluc whilst you sat on his lap while he just looked at the flames of the warm fire burn. The warmth from the fire couldn’t compare to how warm Diluc is at this point. “Yes, in fact, for you.” He said before you could even get a word out. “Who are you and what did you do to my Diluc? He never flirts like that...”

“Are you not a fan? I can stop.”

“no, it’s quite nice.”

you tried to ignore and hide the blush creeping up your cheeks as you also stared at the fire. “I’ve always wondered, Diluc...” You started, as he gave a hum. “How are you so hot?” you said, you meant to say “how are you so warm?” but no, you mixed up your words. It was his turn to blush now, but you didn’t notice. “...Sorry, sorry, I meant how are you so warm?”

“Am I not hot then...?”

“in both ways, yes, you are.” you chuckled.

scaramouche

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

“Only idiots do that. Who just stops breathing?” He replied, but his thoughts went somewhere else. “I guess I’m an idiot whenever I look at you then.” You said with a smirk on your face, as both stopped in your tracks, as he turned his face away to hide the red on his face. “Yeah, you're the idiot.” He muttered just loud enough for you to hear. You chuckled, continuing to walk. Scaramouche did the same. “Hey.” “sometimes, for you, I’m an idiot too.” He said in a somewhat annoyed but very sweet tone.

You giggled slightly,

“I know that. Last night when I was in my old prom dress you actually stopped breathing. So did I! That thing is so tight!—"

childe

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

“only when I look at you.” He teasingly said. “But, seriously, if you stop breathing often, get help.”

“no, no, the thing is sometimes I just forget to?” You replied, smiling awkwardly. “Sometimes I’m also too focused on you to breathe. Like, how can someone be so hot?!” You said Childe was not only your boyfriend— But your best friend as well. “I should be asking you the same thing.” He laughed. “I’m flattered I’m the reason you might die.”

“Wait. Huh?”

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

venti

‘do you ever just stop breathing?’

“yeah! All the time. Most of the times are when I’m with you~” He said as you two continued making your way to the tavern. “I- Venti, wait. – Huh-??” You all of a sudden got flustered as he giggled. “Ehe~ You’re just so cute. How can I resist when my muse is this good-looking?” He held your hand as he stayed completely calm throughout the journey to the tavern, while you were a flustered, blushing mess.

Your hands parted as you and he entered the suffocating vibe of the tavern, but you and Venti liked that. You guys took your usual seat which was near the door. After he ordered the drinks, he took a sip, then started talking. “So, when do you stop breathing?” He asked. “me? I just meant sometimes I forget to breathe. Especially when I’m with you...- Or while I’m singing, haha.”

“Aww, thank you! ...Wait, you sing?!”

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin writing #genshin text #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #pure fluff #fluff #venti x reader #venti #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin diluc #diluc #scaramouche #genshin scaramouche

423 notes · View notes

hy0ung · 3 months

Text

Okay, let’s do this. This is going to be a long post with screenshots, so be patient. Little “exposed”

Honestly I debated a lot if i should do it or not, and i was willing to leave it behind and move on. But this person’s “pronunciation” was what made me decide to post this. You all might had noticed that I’ve deleted all my posts and i explained that was because someone was using the same identity as me. I didn’t mentioned them before, but the acc im talking about is @minzica / @minztarot . When they followed me, i followed back and welcomed them, just as i do with everyone who follows me and is also a ateez tarot content creator. Then, someone pointed out that their profile was really similar to mine and then i wasn’t able to unsee it. It annoyed me. I thought i was being sensitive, and asked for guidance: if i was overreacting or not.

As you can see, i didn’t even mentioned their @. People guessed it right way (specially the instagram one), and it confirmed my suspicions. Then i posted it here, just as a vent. I also didn’t mentioned any name because i really don’t want a fight. But to my surprise, people came to my asks already knowing who it was. People asked me to expose them but i didn’t wanted to do so, until now. I slept and when i woke up, they already had unfollowed me. I was ready to move on, because they had changed all their blog and delete their posts so i thought they might felt bad and were shy to send an apology or something. But then, i received more messages about it. Basically, 4 accounts felt like they were being copied too. One of them, the ‘robbed’ reading had the same name and the same format. Minz didn’t even changed the name form the hard hours one. People started to think about scam, but idk if’s the case. But by stealing readings styles and all, people felt suspicious.

Now: why do i decided to talk about it and expose their @. Minz made a pronouncement, which you can read here. Honestly, it looks like they are making fun of me and the others for feeling frustrated of being copied. “Is just an aesthetic and i don’t see the issue”, well, we do. Because is not just an aesthetic, it’s our identity. Every blog has their own and everyone respects that. Is not just a color, or a template, as you tried to make it look, minz. Is it all, combined. That’s what makes my blog look like me, and what makes the other’s readers’s blogs look like them. People recognize us by it. This is a branding. Imagine if someone steals yours. You won’t be happy if someone out there stared to act like you. If you liked my blog and wanted to be inspired by it, good, i feel honored. But inspiration is not copy and paste, and wasn’t just me. The main reason why i am posting this, is because your words about the situation where indeed insensible with the ones who felt frustrated.

You said in your post, that you don’t like being accused of lying, but then you lie again? You said you were new to the community and didn’t knew how people do the things but then…you knew. I remember that i saw this comment and also the person does too.

Okay you wanted to fit. I get it and i understand you, i felt the same when i started and i think mostly of us felt the same. But just copying one thing from each blog, won’t make you fit honey. Being yourself will. I got that you were talking about deleting your posts and i don’t doubt that you were only unsatisfied with your readings. But the fact that you changed right after my rant received attention and people expressed how they also noticed and how unhappy they were, is kinda suspicious. Also, you said you felt an hostility. Let me stop you right here. You deleted it too, but i remember very well that i welcomed you when i followed you back. Our community is very open with new accounts and we always try to get along with each other, support each other. If you felt that ‘hostility’ is probably because people saw the similarities and felt uncomfortable. Im coming here to explain to you, since you made clear in your post that you don’t get why so many people felt unhappy about the situation. But don’t invalidade how we feel about it just because ‘wasn’t your intention’. We have all the right to feel this way. It was our time, our creative work to create our stuff to it just be copied like this. I honestly think that if you felt really sorry, you would at least tried to talk with someone, explain the situation, but no. You deleted posts, changed and all, might not be the case as i said, could be just a coincidence, but, it felt really suspicious, specially because the situation. People felt that

Im not here to start a war, i’m really not. I’m here to explain directly to you and to anyone else who wants to understand our frustration. You will always be welcomed into our community, but please: be yourself, don’t be insensitive about how people feel, and when you want to apologize, do it to the people who felt it. I was really against about coming here expose all the situation, but after all, wasn’t just me who felt like this and your words where hurtful. I just hope you understand, we can move on, leave it behind and keep being the friendly community we always had been.

#hy0ung.zip #ateez #ateez tarot

25 notes · View notes

imagine--if · 1 year

Note

I have been wondering who Riddler’s girl partner was, being who told the police that she had seen them go into the café. His plan necessitated his capture at that point, and I highly doubt he would have left things up to chance — no, she will be important.

A/N: That's such a relevant point and I can totally work with it 💚This was so fun to write haha it's getting me back into doing stuff for The Batman againnnn 😁 enjoy reading!! And let me know if you like the new imagine blog post layout thingy (I do 😏)

Wordcount: 716

"Lieutenant, we got a witness here, says she saw someone coming down the fire escape right after the shot. She said he went into the corner diner. The guy's sitting by himself at the counter, right now."

You blink up in faux worry at the policeman, who nods at you with a stern but thankful look.

"Thank you, miss. You should go home, where it's safe."

You nod, backing away from him, as he rushes off to get the rest of his team. Police cars start pulling up outside the diner you've come to time and time again, never a hotspot for trouble and the flashes of angry red and blue reflecting in its long windows now. GCPD stream out of their cars, guns held firm in their hands, as they shuffle around the building and hesitate at the entrance. In the midst of the chaos, a shadowed, jet-black dramatic figure appears, cold eyes boring through the glass of the diner and to the quiet man in the warm navy coat, sitting peacefully indoors.

The peace is sliced through as Martinez kicks open the door, his gun entering the place before he steps in, voice loud and demanding.

"Police! Hands up!"

But the man takes his time, his gentle grip flicking and working expertly on a symbol in his drink, calmly, patiently. You smile softly in the darkness of the opposite street, looking past the heads of police and cars to watch the familiar figure work his magic so naturally. It could only ever be natural to Edward Nashton, and it was something you were so used to, but still so amazed to seeing every day, for a time that seemed like so long, but must only be a few months. You could make out his face even though you couldn't see it properly; a small, nervous smile quirking up his lips ever so slightly, his round face boyish and youthful as it turned to take in the sight of uniformed apprehenders, glaring at him as if he was the pig, an unfeeling psychopath with no story good enough to make up for what he did.

But you knew.

He blinked up at them in a mirror-like way to how you stared up at that policeman, curious and innocent, with that glimmer of something more, darker and dangerous and oh-so-clever, in those murky green hues.

And though you couldn't hear what they were saying, you whispered it anyway, gazing at the sight with a shiver of adrenaline and love and nerves and a barrel of other emotions you couldn't stop to identify.

"He just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie."

Martinez lunges forward in the diner, slamming down The Riddler with a hateful force, two other men rushing to help, rifling through his pockets, yanking out the IDs and demanding an explanation that was left unanswered. And as they worked, guns raised and eyes glaring daggers, Edward's own stare flicked suddenly from the scene to you, barely visible in the drowsy streetlight at the end of the road you lingered at.

Even from there, you could read those eyes, soft and sweet and obsessively adoring, no matter the situation, And he smiled, smiled wide and prettily, ogling for your admiration, your approval. For you to tell him that you're proud of him, that you're in this together, that you can still see him because he's not invisible now, and he never will be. That he matters, and he matters to you.

All this is said unspoken, in one loving, long glance, and then he's ripped off the counter, shoved to the cars, the crowd of police following suit, along with the infamous Batman, who catches his gaze and returns it with one of coolness and intense indifference.

You let out a breath you don't realise you've been holding as he's driven away, leaning back against e concrete wall behind you, and roll your eyes to yourself with a knowing smirk. Now would come the stream all set up and ready for them to find, and then to rake their brains over when The Riddler's 'pretty little mystery' was mentioned near the end, in the midst of the retribution, and his followers would flood the chat with crazed hearts and impatient comments, ready for the real change.

⭒❃.✮:▹𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

147 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 2 years

Note

i saw your new event and absolutely lost it! (Ran over to make a tumblr acc since i've been reading in browser 😭)

I'd like to request maybe a smutty demon!law and kitsune!f!reader, with your choice of kinks. If you do take this request I'm delighted to see with what you come up with!

Have a nice day and don't overwork yourself! 💚

Hiii baby!! I'm so happy you made an account just to request!! 🥺💖 So, because I loved this idea I had to write it :3 I hope you enjoy it! Thank u for requesting and taking part in this event! 💜

𝑵𝒔𝒇𝒘 ~ 𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏! 𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒂𝒓 𝑳𝒂𝒘 𝒙 𝑲𝒊𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒆! 𝑭! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ~ 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔

➡ Tw: nsfw. feral fucking, kitsune yokai reader with ears and tails, but human fem body. Law is a demon, the inked demon. Red Light district concept for this au. fingering. public. degrading. vag. cream pie. biting. mentions of blood and death. ➡ wc: 2.1k ➡ Want more? visit the masterlist

Her tail, and her fluffy ears. Her tail, and her fluffy ears…

His tongue against his teeth, he is thirsty. He is thirsty, and hungry. And when her fluffy little ears bounce, his crotch feels hard. So hard. Drinking sake by the hand of inferior demons will not sooth his need, and he has to do something...

Demons based off lust, can’t stop themselves from attacking their preys. They need, they crave the body that’s making his wholeness aroused. Demons can’t help it, and that little yokai kitsune is making the inked demon fall into an irreversible state.

He stands up, walking towards her. She is talking with his friends, lower class demons. But he is a king right there, and he must be obeyed. Long claws snatch the kitsune yokai wrists and turns her around…

“You, yokai… you are making me aroused. I need to fuck you” Law, the demon tells you. Your cute little ears twitch to the sound of those words and you blink a few times. Finally, a demon… a real high-class demon, those like him that you should service, those to whom you have to bow when they enter your pleasure house.

The crimson lights of the red district flicker as his breathing becomes agitated and hastily. He has been drinking sake in company of many yokais around… but he has been watching at you, a sweet kitsune.

“Ye-yes… demon Law” you answer, smiling warily… are you sure you can take this beast? You can only know if you try….

Law smirks, his demonic stare makes you shiver. Your tail answers to such interaction, it wiggles subtly and slowly. Your unholy side is taking over, and yet, you are sure not even your full potential could match the sinful fiendish demon Law holds.

“I’m waiting…” he demands, already annoyed because you are taking too long to tell him in which room he will fuck you. “If you don’t hurry, I will fuck you right here and everybody will see you scream from my cock”

Your mouth opens, forming and O gape. In awe, you stutter. You knew Law was this way, because you have heard your friends screaming when he fucks them inside the rooms… but you never thought he was so violent and demanding.

And, as he said it’s just how it is. He pushes you against the wall, in front of everybody there. His body presses you hardly, your cheek squeezed against the cold cement, and your tail moving faster against his crotch.

Law’s pointy nose buries on the fluffy side of your right ear. He sniffles your essence, and you could swear that that was something only yokai and tengu do, but apparently human demons are also as beasty as you.

“Ugh… smells nice” he moans, and it’s the only thing you can hear. The whines and amazed giggles of your colleagues around disappear for you but surely are still there. “Heh, you all wanna see how I fuck this little fox?” Law says, already ripping your kimono off.

He keeps smelling you, from your ears to your neck. Law gloats at you, Law enjoys your little squirms under him. A kimono barely covering his inked body, those black lines that carve patterns on his caramel skin, the silver eyes that shine like the moon you are all devoted too, and the wings that garnish his back… His claws carving marks on the wall at each side of your head, little groans as your tail now moves side to side grazing energetically his hardness.

“Keep doing that, little fox…” he moans, and carves his teeth on your shoulder. You whimper in pain, but still love it. “Ugh… you little yokais are so tender, and those little whimpers you do” he sinks in his own lustful desires.

Every worker of the pleasure house is there, such demonstration, like a show, is not proper of demon Law, but still, it’s amazing to be able to witness.

Law squeezes your cheeks in between his thumb and index. Moving your head to the side, he makes you see the many people that are staring at you. “Look at them, you want them to see how I lift that tail of yours and fuck you?” the demon asks, perversely, out of himself. Law is usually a lot calmer and more logical, but apparently you have captivated him…

“I- I don’t care- demon Law” you whine, because frankly you only want that man to fuck the life out of you. Now. “Who would say kitsunes were that slutty? You should be called a bitch instead of a fox. Alright, open your legs and let me use that little cunt of yours”

Your body shivers at such statement but does even more when his fingers get to your sex from behind. He spreads your folds and plays with the strings of wetness. “Look at you, almost dripping. Are you in heat, huh?” he laughs sarcastically, Law enjoys every inch of this.

“See? All of you? This is how slutty a fox is. Bet you are all as wet as her. Go fuck yourselves or something” Law says, lifting his hand up and showing everybody the dampness that gives his fingers a shiny cape but sending them off the place. And that’s when you know exactly the real deal is about to start.

Nobody can say anything, and even if they take a little more than the rest they all leave. You don’t mind and can’t help but lift your ass, so Law keeps touching you. “More? You want more?” he laughs, and you wiggle your tail, that is now resting over his firm abs.

You purr, more like a kitty rather than a fox, because of course you want more, sure you do. “Mhh yes please, demon Law…” you moan, dedicating a little smirk to your colleagues who are leaving the place.

Law does the same and lifting your tail he inserts his middle and ring finger inside you. Beckoning motions, perfect ones, making you mewl, and your legs to become weak and shaky. In and out, the harder he moves, the more you bathe his hand with your arousal.

“You are probably really tight, that’s why you are squirting this much…” he mumbles with a medical knowledge like commentary. And you can’t disagree with him, you are, for sure, pretty tight for his size.

Law rejoices on the moans that scape your mouth, you accompany his increasing motions in and out of you, your claws also carving the wall in front of you. “p-please” you beg, you want to finish, you need it.

“Look at those cute cheeks, all flustered… fluffy kitsunes are so cute!” the inked demon, a demon who likes to devour the hearts of victims himself rips off their chests, says. “Come on, turn around. I want to fuck you”

He turns you around, violently and showing you how his shiny fingers are now being sucked by himself. “Delicious” he mumbles, with that classical sexy smirk that usually garnishes his face. You tremble, your lips too. Your teeth chatter, and immediately you close your legs because going from almost coming to him taking his fingers out, leaves you in painful need.

“Don’t close your legs, fox” he commands, opening them with his knee. His fingers now get inside your mouth, one, two, three of them pushing your tongue down. They go violently in, the sharp nails of his hands carving marks inside and even making you gag as they reach for the back of your mouth.

Law makes you stick your tongue out, he likes your raptured expression, he enjoys the way little strings of saliva drip from it. “That’s it, dumb and savage like a little animal” he devilishly says looking you up and down with superiority and scorn.

At this point you are becoming feral, the so needed release is being delayed by the demon… what an awful behaviour, to let a little yokai suffer, to tease it, to leave it panting and aroused to the extreme…

Your wild side takes over, pushing the demon in front of you. You bump on him with so much strength that it makes him fall back. Law’s face tints in surprise, he lays over the floor with legs semi spread allowing you to see his growing erection from under the almost open silks of his kimono.

“I WANT YOUR DICK INSIDE OF ME” you demand, well aware of being way weaker than him and yet letting your wild side to speak for you. Law lets a scoff laugh out, and his eyes turn from silver to red, pure red.

You, however, even if you are sure you will be left with a whole in your chest, jump over his lap. “Fuck me, demon” you purr in his ear, humping over his hard erection.

“Very well, you little scum” he answers back, lifting your hips up just to untie his clothing. Hard, reddish, and also inked in pure black his dick stands so ready for you to jump on it. And as it should be done, you do. A loud whine resonates all around the place as you let him impale you. You can’t wait and begin to move, up and down, back, and forth.

It was indeed true that you were tight for him, and him as well as you, enjoy they way your walls clench to his shaft. Pulsating both sexes, you jump brutally and carve your nails over his shoulders.

Law grunts and throws his head back with open mouth to the motions of your hips. Motions he also accompanies by clenching to your ass to lift you and push you down. Deep, deep he wants to go. Deeper, even more.

Your fangs grace the side of his clenched jaw, drooling to take a bite to his pulsating carotid on his neck. “Don’t you dare bite, filthy animal” Law scolds you in between pants. It is well known, that, just as demons can eat any other inferior creatures, yokai are ferocious when losing their cool… and arousal can make them go untamed, to the point of ripping arteries, and drinking the blood of their victims.

“Keep fucking me the way you do, I won’t hurt you demon Law” you moan, taming yourself by focusing on the way you begin to squirt the base of his dick while he pumps in and out of you harder each time. Law is also getting there, and he can’t control himself either.

“I’m not scared of you hurting me, but I don’t wanna have to rip your heart off before filling you up with my cum” he says, pushing you back and toping you. Your legs snake around his waist, trapping him to show Law how much you want your walls to be bathed by his release.

Sharp teeth that carve marks around your bitten nipples and a few slaps leave your cheeks burning and sore, but you enjoy them as much as his thrusts hit that perfect spot inside of you. Violence is driving the inked demon; he drools in pure concupiscence and feral instincts. Instinc to rip you in half, to break you and make you mewl louder each time. The muscles of his back move like a work of art, his shoulder blades protrude as he fucks you rougher and rougher.

Your walls spasming, milking his dick, show Law you are coming with tears in your eyes from such lustful and sinful overstimulation. And him, instead of stopping, he goes even faster and harder. Your back arches and his too, he looks down at you biting his lips, making you enjoy the amazing work of art of his chest and belly muscles over you.

“Cum, fox” he orders, as if it was really needed… You burst for him, clenching to his forearms, and burying your nails on his tattooed skin. A loud moan and the release of that pressure building up finally marks your orgasm.

Following you, he cums with a loud grunt. Guttural symphony to your ears, and the sticky balsam of his release filling your womb completely.

Law swears as you feel the twitching motions of his seed sprouting. Seed that overflows once he pulls his dick out, dripping from your core to your legs and into the ground beneath you. A dantesque picture of full sin in which demons live daily.

“I would come back soon, stay alive until I decide to eat your heart” Law says, wiping the rests of your orgasm over his crotch. “I think I like foxes better; little tight pussy and fluffy tail and ears apparently are my thing now”

And just as he leaves you there, probably sparing your life because of how good he felt fucking you, you watch him get dressed and walk away. His figure gets lost in between the crimson tinted fog of the Red District’s lights…

313 notes · View notes