Tumgik
#the shriveler strikes
the-shriveler · 1 year
Note
Can you do General Grievous with all his arms?
Tumblr media
i gottem
286 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
well well well 👀
(psst! friends, these items are not for cooking) 🤫
#just ​a little self punishment to get the day going 💥🥰#i’ve literally never ever tried it before but the thought has always turned me on sooo much#but i’m generally a ‘wait til someone makes me do it’ kinda gal when it comes to scary things#in this kindof context especially#so it’s always just stayed firmly in my daydreams#(& i am SO tragically caucasian & absolutely cannot handle spicy food so chilli peppers especially are not something found in my home)#(so it’s not like i’ve had the immediate means when the temptation does strike to actually try)#(& bc i haven’t had the push from someone else to do so i’ve never had the courage or drive to go out & buy them just for *this*)#but in the spirit of trying to actually cook more adventurously a new recipe called for a chilli#so there i found myself constantly 👀 every time i opened my fridge#was gona make a post about the temptation but didn’t#but ultimately due to the rest of the recipe i chickened out of adding the chilli anyway#(which i am actually glad about bc it was delicious but was genuinely almost too hot for me even as it was! 🥵)#sooooooooooo then here we are#a week later#with a sad little chilli pepper starting to shrivel & a sad little human longing for a wank & some brain fixing pain#🤗 it was now or never yknow????#and update: wow 😩 really wasn’t expecting the slight delay in sensation????#there was me like ‘oh this is fine??? actually really not too bad?? lemme do some more & more & more??’#then ​holy fuck 😵#ngl there was some pretty hefty regret after i came & the heat just STILL kept BUILDING & BUILDING & BUILDING#but now it’s subsided & i’m no longer panicking that i might have to take myself to A&E & endure the most humiliating day of my life#it’s good! would do again!#(honestly probably *not* without external instruction now that i actually know the reality of what i’m dealing with LOL ... but still!)#now it’s just a nice little residual warmth which is just NICE#& sure enough (if you couldn’t tell by the babbling above) the endorphins really did their THING#don’t wana die quite as much now & feel pretty motivated to face the rest of my day#so ​woo ✌🏼#my pics#mine
187 notes · View notes
codenamesazanka · 2 months
Text
extremely questionable methodology but i compiled all the dialogue spoken between Shigaraki and Deku starting from when Shigaraki breaks out of AFO’s control in Chapter 379 up to Chapter 412.
(There are chapters where they appear but do not speak. Those are the chapter numbers.)
Tumblr media
The takeaway is that Shigaraki is extremely chatty! A lot of it is taunts, but Shigaraki’s also revealing a lot of stuff about his plans and his opinions.
Deku does not seem as interested in returning the conversation, however. Whenever he does speak, it’s less in response to any of the content of Shigaraki’s chatter, and more heroic statements of intent. (The ‘you’re still human’ is the only direct refutation, I think.)
To be fair, his focus is all on surviving Shigaraki’s attacks. Nearly all his internal thoughts are strategy - combining a quirk with this quirk, how exactly he can physically stop Shigaraki. Additionally, before Chapter 410, he was probably too worried about All Might; while for most of Chapter 412, he was asphyxiating. Hard to chat when so much shit is happening.
And you can argue Shigaraki is just Villain monologuing. Deku doesn’t have to pay attention to anything he says - a lot which are, after all, taunts - he doesn’t have to engage with Shigaraki’s dumb rants.
His goal is to save Shigaraki/The Crying Child, and only that - not like talking or asking questions about anything or responding is required for that.
25 notes · View notes
froggybangbang · 11 months
Text
W00t! We finally have an agreement (which we'll beed to vote for)!!
How odd is it that all agreements are reached during the night before we plan buses to go to Ottawa 🤔
2 notes · View notes
monsteractialuna · 18 days
Text
I want to draw so badly but man my hormones are kicking my ass rn fr!!!!
1 note · View note
lonely-dog-song · 2 months
Text
gonna wear my pro-palestine pins out, i'm nervous someone will get mad at me so wish me luck (i am surrounded by christians)
i'm back, no one commented on them (good & bad: I'd love to know if anyone around me is curious about my pins, but also i am scared of confrontation.) i did give a button to my mom
1 note · View note
paperultra · 7 months
Text
back of house.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing
Tumblr media
If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.
“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”
Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.
“I’m sorry, Sanji.”
“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”
“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”
“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”
“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”
“I –”
“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”
Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”
Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”
“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”
“I’m her mentor.”
“And I’m the damn boss.”
The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.
Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.
“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”
Zeff grunts with satisfaction.
The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.
“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”
Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.
You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.
“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.
You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.
His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”
“It did.”
It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.
Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.
(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)
“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.
His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”
“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”
You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”
Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.
How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.
But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.
“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”
As always, your heart skips a beat.
“Okay.”
Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.
“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”
You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”
Your pulse pounds in your ears.
Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.
“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.
He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.
Indeed, this is home.
4K notes · View notes
starry-bi-sky · 30 days
Text
Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.
She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.
(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)
(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)
Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.
Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.
But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.
No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.
(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)
“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."
"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."
Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.
Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.
He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"
Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."
"...I'm leaving."
And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."
Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"
Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."
"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."
Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.
"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."
Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.
When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."
Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.
(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)
("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")
("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)
("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")
(Ellie doubts it.)
But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.
Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.
Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)
Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.
"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."
(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)
Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."
Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"
Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."
#danny speaks in formal english when he's pissed. he goes full on 'i shall eat his heart in the marketplace' levels of formal#not quite a ficlet not quite a post talking about the idea but a secret third option: its both of these at the same time#dp x dc#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp au#dpxdc au#dcdp#dpdc au#dp dc crossover#older brother danny#danny is an asshole with a heart of gold#the writing feels all over the place but since its not a fic i dont feel that self conscious about it lol. very much spitballing here#morally gray danny fenton#poc danny fenton#look ellie MIGHt - and thats a big if - have gotten away with the cousin lie if it weren't for the fact that she's danny's clone#danny who is not white nor remotely white-passing in this au. she might have gotten away if he had been and she claimed she was#from jack's side of the family. but alas. danny is adopted. the fentons are whiter than sunscreen. and danny is not.#dani and danny's meeting in danyal al ghul aus have the potenial of being IMMEDIATE dumpster fires which is very funny to me#on the basis of if danny knows he's adopted or not and if dani claims to be related directly to him or to jack.#dani: im your third cousin once removed :)#danny. is adopted: i kNOW YOU LYING. CUZ YO LIPS ARE MOVING#i got fanart for this au on haunting heroes discord and it kickstarted my thoughts about danyal again. they gave him the BATWING EYEBROWS#ellie has the batwing eyebrows too that was the mind killer thats what fucked her over /j. those are UNIQUELY BRUCE WAYNE BROWS FOLKS#fuck i wish tumblr told us on laptop when we run out of tags because i just lost like 4 of them. good thing i got screenies those were FUNN
1K notes · View notes
inknopewetrust · 3 months
Text
𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰
summary: in the blistering summer evening heat, you and felix play a little game. [felix x fem reader. WC: 2.6k]
warnings: smut. minors dni (18+ only). p in v, fingering (fem receiving), saltburn bathtub, slight voyeurism, dirty, dirty talk, some degrading language, not the dirtiest thing but still like… kinda hot?
Tumblr media
Though the sun had set long before, the lingering scorch of the sun sat like a film on your skin. Its thin veil dry and aching to shrivel against the boiling water of the tub. You felt the sticky nature disappear under the trails of steam that painted the surface of the water.
A bead of sweat pebbled from your temple to cheek to chin to neck.
But you lit a cigarette anyway. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the crackle.
A blistering bud sizzles; the porcelain was drawing cool waves against the skin of your arms and for once, in the vast nothingness of the bathroom, the heat that rose from its surface made the ghosts vanish.
It made them disappear in house once home to Kings.
Now, as it boiled under the night sky, it was home to something other. It had bled itself into the walls and the ghosts wished to witness not the haggard scrounging of wealth that festered within.
But you imagined Henry the Eighth liked to stare as you bathed. They all did. Felix had told you that once a few summers ago.
How they all wanted to touch you in the ways that he did. How they wanted to whisper in your ear that they were better than him. No one truly was and it kept you crawling back with the poor souls who got sucked into a heated whirlpool of pity each and every summer.
Nevertheless, you envisioned Henry in the corner itching to touch.
They all trembled to flutter their hands onto your skin, onto your breasts, squeezing pieces of you dipped below the waterline.
If his ghost could smile, Henry’s ghastly teeth gleamed.
‘Fuck off, Henry,’ you saw the paunchy apparition lounging in the chair in the corner with a bead of sweat dribbling from his own temple.
Oh, envy, King Henry.
A bit of ash fell onto the tiles below.
“You’re making a mess of it.”
You tapped the cig on the side of the tub as another bit of ash wilted to the cold floor.
Felix hummed.
Stocky Henry vanished. If you gazed toward him, Felix’s eyes bore deep. Heavy and brooding, downcast at a peak of what existed beyond the bubbled suds.
Dinner had long passed. Everyone was supposed to be in bed.
He could feel you in inches. The soft skin of your back, the plush thighs that laid between his own. A hand of his traced over the skin of your collarbone gently as the ash continued to drift.
You were nearly on fire. In the swelter of the stone walls and the patterns of the paper before him, you glowed in a red sweat.
“You’re letting it die.”
“I was thinking,” you murmured.
“About what?”
“King Henry.”
“King Henry?” Felix’s voice peaked. His head leaned to rest on your shoulder, his smile leaving a trail as it grew. His nose drew a delicate line on your dampened skin.
You liked Felix in this way. So quiet and removed. But Saltburn always kept pace in the background.
“Yes, King Henry,” his hand glided along your own, gently taking hold of the cigarette and placing it between his lips.
The smoke of the puff rose high into the air beside you. It’s curls twisted like your insides aching for a touch too far but never too close.
“I like to imagine them sitting… staring at us now.”
“Now?” Felix questioned. “So erotic in an ugly tub. I can see him now,” he pointed to the corner of the room, “he just popped one. Can’t you see it? In his trousers there.”
You grinned. Your laugh filled his chest with a shuddering life. So fulfilled and free yet trapped in this same world as he.
And he was never far away. Here, in Saltburn, always waiting in the same shadows for the opportunity to strike while the others weren’t around. No sister or friends or parents or mewling poor fighting for his attention. They were retired for the evening; all snuggled in beds with curtains drawn and fantasy dancing in their heads.
“He isn’t the only one.”
You tipped your head to the side. The profile of your face meeting his forehead as he dipped his own downwards. The cigarette still burning from his fingertips. It was a mere bud now.
You could feel what waited for you on your lower back.
“I can feel that, you know?” You feigned an innocence he liked. Keen and blatant, but cunning with sin.
“Is it Henry that makes you feel that why?” You whispered, lips ghosting his chin.
Felix breathed in deeply. The same chest that shuddered with joy in anticipation.
Every summer.
The excitement would stir within his bones as the gates would open wide and beside his family would be the one steady thing he had everything to give.
“I hope,” Felix hushed, “for your own sake that’s not the fucking case.”
“So it’s me?”
Felix groaned as you pushed against him. The gentle pressure of your body arching into him without a touch, he begged to put his hands on you.
The cigarette fell to the floor in its end.
Felix took his hand and turned your head back to face him with a firm grip on your jaw. The water around you sloshed. It cleared the bubbles from your chest.
“I want to play a game,” he suggested in a dusty, breathless tone. “Want to play, darling?”
“Can I win?” You suggested. His hand loosened, letting the fingers dance along the column of your neck before beckoning up toward your mouth once more.
His index finger traced the outline of your lips. In a slow glide, Felix pulled your lower lip out slightly, gathering the wetness with his finger before inching it back to the space where your lips had parted.
You kissed his finger with your tongue as it found purchase in the suction of your mouth. The plushness of your tongue, the slight drag of your teeth as it emerged from between your lips.
“I don’t want to play if I can’t win, Felix,” you whispered.
His eyes now hooded with a thick want. He watched his finger redraw the lines of your lips again as you begged with doe eyes to win. A near child’s play of a woman’s ability to seduce.
“You can win,” Felix huffed as his other hand snaked itself from the edge of the tub to your torso under the water. “But I’ll need you to be quiet. We have guests and as much as I do love our dear, sweat guests, I can’t have them imagining the way I fuck you, can I?”
“No,” you relished in the way his hand returned to the base of your throat and squeezed with the slightest amusement. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Good,” Felix smiled at you. Your heart squeezed in the same way your cunt ached for his fingers to gather the strength to follow through.
“What do I win?”
“Whatever the fuck you want. You just have to be quiet.”
You smiled deviously that the thought.
“I can’t see how we’d be able to look a boy like Ollie in the eyes if he heard the sounds that come out of your mouth.”
His hand swooped past your center and to your leg, drawing one over his own which sat you straighter in his hold. You felt his cock jump at the pressure of you pushing on him. Felix flitted his finger tips from your knee to waist, switching hands to bring his wet palm to your breast while the other perched your opposite leg over his other.
The pebbled nipple was taut as he kneaded the skin in circles. He pressed down hard, pulling up on your nipple to elicit the sounds he wanted so badly to hear but knew you’d repress.
You were like him in many ways. He too wanted to win a game of control.
With you in his hands like a play of putty, he felt in control but with one hand on the wheel.
As he palmed your breast, his hand gripped your thigh. His mouth traced a pattern of hot breath along your neck as his tongue relished the salty sweat that had gathered at its leisure. The goosebumps that rose from your skin welcomed his breath kindly.
“I want this house to ourselves,” Felix moaned. “So we don’t have to be quiet.”
“Tell me what you’d do,” you asked him, placing your hand over his own and bringing his fingers to you. He cupped your heat as you groaned, guiding him back and forth to gather the wetness he could feel different from the water of the tub.
“Tell me what you’d do to me.” You spoke faintly. “Tell me and I’ll be quiet.”
You guided one of Felix’s fingers in you as he shushed the sounds that threatened to speak themselves into existence.
He put his lips on your ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you with a slow glide. So plush and tight, he thought to himself. It sucked him in and dared not to spit him out.
“I would fuck you on the floor,” he breathed out against your cheek. “I’d spread you wide and taste your sweet pussy as the sun bathes the floor. And when I’m done, we go to the pool-“
Felix pulled out his finger, tracking it along your folds before going in with two. You arched against his back, drawing up as he pulled you back down and rested his hand on your waist.
You curled the toes of your right foot down the edge of the tub.
“-we’d go to the pool and sit out in the sun. You’d give me head in one of the chairs and I’d paint your fucking face with my cum.”
You clenched around his fingers. His thumb pressed into your clit, another jolt aching to send you squirming but he held you down as he patterned circles on the gentle flesh.
“You like that, don’t you?” He breathed in the smell of you. “And maybe we’d go for a walk through the maze after dinner. I’d fuck you in the center and you could scream as loud as you fucking want. No one could get to us. No one would hear us.”
“F-F-“
“No, no, no, shh,” Felix shushed. “Good girls only win by being quiet, yeah?”
You nodded, clenching onto his fingers again as a strangled ‘fuck’ tumbled out of his lips. He could imagine the coil building. Felix wasn’t going to let you finish alone.
Felix pulled his fingers from you and felt the disappointment in the wither of your body.
“But I don’t want to imagine what’d I’d do if we were alone,” Felix blanked. “Turn around.”
As the water sloshed around you, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. Like you, Felix had sweat beading from his jaw that glimmered in the red light of the bathroom. He looked intoxicated, entranced but in control of what he could.
“I want to see you ride me like the fucking whore you are.”
You weren’t a whore. But for Felix, you could be anything.
At the nape of his neck, you gripped the back of his hair and drew his head back as your other hand gripped him under the water.
Hard and lengthy, his cock was a welcome intrusion every time. You pumped him in your hand slowly. The sounds of water creating currents was soothing against the sounds of your battered breaths kissing his own. You lifted yourself on your knees, leaning against Felix as he squeezed your ass tightly, watching as you lowered yourself onto him under the water. Slender and veined, your cunt molded to him like art. You both would never tire of the feeling so profound.
It would never be like this with anyone else.
Loose pants left his lips as you sat completely full of him. A fit for a King in his own home, he supposed. Once you had settled with him inside, you moved above him.
The water moved languidly too. Meeting the fiery skin of two intoxicated minds too oblivious to see the peering eyes between the crack of a door.
“Right there, baby, right there,” Felix mumbled as you rose again and again, drawing him in and out as he stretched you with every swell and spur he could muster on his own.
“You’re such a good girl, darling. So good for me.”
You could peer down at him from above. Your breath fanning his face and lips but never seeking to truly kiss him as your hand tangled in his hair.
Bits of water spilled over the tub and splashed onto the floor. It soaked the ash tray and the speckles of ash and bud that littered the floor.
“Don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop,” Felix crooned in the room’s empty sounds. Only the pleasured sighs and gasping breaths filled the air.
You bounced on his cock with a measured pace. Each stroke of his manhood against your velvet walls lured him deeper into you, entangled with the missing links of a year gone by.
“Felix,” you broke the rules to whisper in his ear. He was taken away by the insatiable need of his rapture. He listened. He beckoned to your call.
“Tell me that you love me.”
From the shadows, Oliver Quick felt his blood run as hot as the sun. He loved Felix.
“I love you.”
Whom did not love him back.
“Tell me you need me.”
He was enamored by the idea of Felix.
“I need you.”
Who was enamored with the idea of Oliver.
“And what do you want from me?”
He was taken by the sight before him.
“I need you to cum, baby. I need you to fucking cum for me.”
Oliver was taken by the gleam of your skin. The way Felix’s throat bobbed as a strangled groan escaped his lips and the way your own melted onto his forehead in a silent struggle to come down from a high.
You placed both hands on his slender chest, careening like winged victory in a heated satisfaction.
Your fingers shook.
He had never seen a woman shake so elegantly before. The tremble of your lips as you breathed in shaking respite, the jolt of your shoulder blade as Felix ran a hand up your back.
Oliver licked his lips at the sight.
Felix lifted his head from its position against the tub. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away in the slightest.
And Felix smiled.
You returned the grin with one of your own as his still sat erect inside of you. The bubbles of the tub had long ceased to exist and the water that was left was filled with the combined spent of you both.
“I don’t think I won that one,” you chuckled quietly, pushing hair out of Felix’s face before cupping his cheek in your hand.
“I’ll take pity on you, I guess.”
“The water’s gone cold.”
Felix kissed the inside of the palm of your hand. He cherished the high that lingered.
“The water’s gone cold,” he repeated. “But we could stay here forever.”
“Pruned and sweaty? Not a chance in fucking hell, Felix.” You laughed a bit too loudly. Oliver disappeared at the groan Felix let out as you pulled off of him.
You stood before him as the water dripped from every piece of you. Marbled and finite of the most precious carvings he only wished to hold forever.
As you exited the tub and the throb of him began to settle, you grabbed his linen shirt from the floor, draping it over you as it stuck to the wetness of your skin.
“The bed is just the slightest bit more comfortable.”
And you disappeared behind his doorway with call for more as the walls of Saltburn added another sordid story to add to it woven trims.
But it was never just the walls of Saltburn watching.
Tumblr media
A/N: as always, the best gift of reading is likes AND reblogs and why not, we love comments too. Thank you for reading and feel free to check out my other works on my masterlist here. xo
2K notes · View notes
lolita-lollipop · 3 months
Text
Iron
Tumblr media
YANDERE BARBARIAN BAKUGO X READER
The king of the most violent and powerful tribe in the eastern world is captured during battle by a small farmers village. What does a violent man like katsuki bakugo do upon meeting a kind servant girl like you?
WARNINGS: reader gets hurt by villagers (bakugo saves her)
He couldn't remember how long he had been here, he just knew it was cold, dark, unsanitary, and painful. He remembered the battle that put him here, getting shot with a poison-laced arrow, feinting on the field. Heh. imagine it, the great barbarian Bakugo, the children's slayer, the village burner, the soldier slaughterer falling because of one puny arrow from one puny kingdom. When he first had woken up he could feel the slick of his blood under him mixed with the dirt and grime of the cell, he had giant iron cuffs wrapping his wrists and legs, binding him to the floor. He couldn't blame these people, truly, they knew that once he woke up if he were to get out they were all as good as slaughtered.
It was a small stone dungeon, with only a couple of stalls, he occupying one of them. There was a small barred window, along with a wall of iron bars serving as protection from him and the rest of the world. Iron, he hated the stuff, and banned it from his country, it burned him, burned his people. There was a thick, damp smell of blood and rust, a musty smell he could easily recognize as death. He would carve every person in this building up, then burn every building in the village, and he would let the fire spread to their fields and watch as their lives work shrivels up into ash. But for now, He would wait for the perfect time to strike, all he could do was wait really, watch the guard rotation, see which ones were talkative, and which ones were cruel.
Many of the guards would beat him, carve his skin, and watch him bleed, they know of all the gruesome things he has done to so very many people, and supposedly the bastards feel some kind of idiotic vengeance or justice for those people. They would pay in the long run, who exactly do they think they are? he is a king, royalty, the highest of the highest, the strongest too. If he doesn't kill them his people will, they'll see. All the king could do was watch, wait, and plot the splattering of this village.
That was, until you came along.
Little you, in your flowy little skirt that was all torn up, with no shoes and a dirt-covered face. Little you with your oh-so-innocent smile, and your callused hands. Little you with your malnourished body, frail and sickly. Little you, who had no idea who he was. Little you who snuck in when no guard was on duty, a small bowl of soup in your hands, and a cup of water.
“I-im sorry that this is all I have, I know you haven't eaten in a long time I just- I’ll have more tomorrow” you whispered, and he swore he fell in love right then and there, you were too frail, too weak to be giving out food that you surely needed. Yet here you were, shakily handing him the bowl and the cup. He stared at you for a solid second, not even his own mother was this selfless, and you don't even know him. Who were you? You did not seem like aristocracy, too kind, maybe a farmer? Maybe a maid, a servant even.
He hadn't realized how hungry he was, not until the entire bowl and cup were gone, and he was left to stare at you. You were ethereal, dirt-covered and all, your eyes, your hair, your hands, everything, absolutely stunning. You had a look in your eyes. Something hungry and fearful told him that you were not happy, not safe and sound, not as you should be.
“I don't have anything to treat your wound, but- I'm sorry. Nobody should be treated this way, not even prisoners. I'll be back tomorrow, please don't tell the guards that I've done this. They will kill me.” you whispered, cautiously reaching to grab the glassware from his grip, waiting to see if he would snap at you. He didn't, only stared, grunting in response to your plea. You stared back with those sympathetic globes of yours, as if you could see the anger in his soul. Before turning on your heel, and quietly sneaking out of the dungeon room, you gave him one last glance before disappearing.
He was left in the quiet, in the cold, falling head over heels in love with you, a mere human. A peasant at that. Strange. You were too sweet, too kind, you clearly needed the food, clearly were starving and malnourished, yet you still stood here and offered your only food to him, a prisoner of war, you were so sweet. So kind. His people were not like you, they were not soft or sweet, he loved them for it, but you, oh you. You were soft and supple and sweet andso sickeningly kind. He would protect you, he has too.
The next couple of nights went similarly, you sneaking in during the dead hours following midnight with varying foods, sometimes a stale loaf of bread with milk, sometimes some leafy soup and water. He was grateful every time, thankful that he wasn't starving, still burning with absolute rage towards the mere peasants who believed that they could contain him. But you, in the very few days that he had known you, had wormed your way into his heart with your soft hands and pretty smile.
He can just imagine you adorned in stolen jewels and furs, dressed in the finest silk, or better, the clothes of his people. something soft like you, something pretty and supple and shiny and light. Something that reflects you, he would take you out of those rags, clean you up, teach you what luxury truly is. and you wouldnt have to lift a finger. he dreamed about your future everyday that you would visit, asking your favorite color or season or jewel.
That was, until you stopped showing up. No more quiet hours gazing at each other, no more shared food and drink, no more listening to you quietly talk about your life, no more sympathetic glances, no more questions about him from you, no more answers from him. It was like you had disappeared entirely, and back to his old routine of watching and observing the guards had begun once more. He had to admit it kind of hurt, having the only good thing here disappear entirely, he resented this place more, resented you.
He hated you, how could you leave him? You, a servant girl abandoning a king. Funny, hilarious, he sat in a pool of blood and hatred thinking about you, about this town, about the people who put him here, who chained him to the floor and watched him bleed out, this city will burn. And burn and burn and burn and burn and burn, his people would tear it apart until it was nothing but ash and blood-
What tore him out of his internal monologue was a pained scream, but not just anybody, he didn't know anybody in the town, it was yours. With that whispery rasp that you had from overexertion, and that neverending fear that dripped from your tone. He stood up to stare through the small window, only to see you on the ground, surrounded by many people, all bigger and stronger than you, yelling and screaming.
“It's her, the traitor!”
“She has been feeding the enemy, treason, treason I say!”
“She should be beheaded, the traitor.”
You let another scream ring out through the town center as one of the men brought their boot down on your bare foot, he could hear the crunch followed by another scream. The first kick sparked more from other men as they brought their feet down on frail little ou, you slowly reverted into a fetal position, lying in the dirt as they beat you relentlessly. He saw red, crimson blinding him and overflowing all of his senses. How could they? You did nothing, you knew nothing. You were just a sweet, innocent little human who knew no better, who were they to punish you, to beat you so cruelly? You were thin and frail and he could hear each one of your bones cracking and breaking into pieces.
He saw bright ruby red, anger wasn’t the word, absolute rage is a better way to put it.
Red red red red red red red red red
He didn't even realize he had broken from his chains till his legs were moving,
Red
He didn’t even feel the burn of the iron till the bars holding him were bent out of shape and twisted
Red
He didn’t realize they were all dead till his hands were stained with that bright crimson color he loved so much- you guessed it, red
He killed them all, so painfully, knuckles crunching skulls and tearing off limbs, pulling people apart faster than any wolf or bear could even try to. The thrill of freedom mixed with rage and pure anger let him revert to the ways of his homeland, back to the thrilling violence and electrifying feeling of tearing another apart. He enjoyed it, enjoyed tearing them limb from limb and watching them bleed as they had done to him. He cackled as they screamed in terror, relishing in their fear.
You watched deliriously, you had lost too much blood in too short of a time, and you were positive that you had many many broken bones, pain overcame you as you watched the bloodshed in front of you, your vision was blurry and shaking but you could tell that somebody was strong, and enjoying violence. Fear budded in the back of your brain, he was enjoying this, enjoying their pain, he would hurt you just the same, kill you, and relish in it.
You hadn’t known who he was, you swore to the village leaders, swore that you just felt bad for the poor starving man in the dungeons who seemed to gentle and sweet, they hadn’t cared. You were to be burned or drowned or noosed they said. But a death like this, at the hand of a man you had been fooled to be sweet? That was worse. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god you were going to die
Your breath became shallow, both because of what was surely a punctured lung, but also because of the slowly approaching footsteps crunching on the dirt. A small whimper escaped you as the figure towered over you, and your hands came up to shield your face from the blow that was surely to come.
But Instead of a painful ending blow, arms wrapped under you and hoisted you up, you never realized how tall this man was. Naturally, you curled into his warmth and tried not to think about how sticky his hands were with blood. your breath hitched as he squeezed you closer with calloused rough hands. Tears washed down your face, you were quivering, shaking in fear.
“P-please-“ you quivered out. Hand moving up to push him away, your statement had many meanings, to beg for your life, to beg him to put you down, to beg him to leave you and your village alone, to beg him to forgive you. He stared down at you with crimson eyes, a sudden softness overcoming them, more than he thought he could have.
“Don’t you worry baby,
I’ll take good care of ya”
———————————————————————
Cute
Anyway enjoy, I noticed a lack of barbarian bakugo content on here so I figured I would add some fuel to the fire.
Love you all, make sure to have a great day!
989 notes · View notes
fluloa · 1 year
Text
SOAKED | jake sully x reader [mini series pt. 4]
Tumblr media
only warning for u alien fuckers: it’s a bit filthy. mentally prepare yourself ig. TWO HANDS ON THE PHONE PEOPLE
You're sharpening your knife as you sit in the designated spot for your next lesson. You're dreading it, if you're honest with yourself. You have so many emotions bottled up, just waiting to explode and Jake's probably going to be the victim of it. The weather is a bit on the cold side, giving you gentle shivers and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Your stomach is full with a weird feeling, anticipation almost.
Jake's husked voice startles you, "Looks alright."
You sigh quietly. Speak of the devil. You don't look at him when he walks over to you, sits down beside you with his big body as he bends a leg up, leaning his arm over his knee. "It's tricky because you really gotta flick it at the tip," he ghosts a finger along the edge of your knife. "So that it's real sharp."
You flick it hard as he says, but he shakes his head, moving behind you. "Real tight grip here," he closes his hand over yours on the handle, shaking it a bit for exaggeration. You can feel the warm air of his breath, dipping down your neck and it's taunting you. "And— give me your other hand."
You don't give it to him. There's a second of silence before he takes your hand for himself, enveloping it with his own hand before he's lining it up at the thick girth of the knife's base, and striking it up, a nice shing sound coming out of it. He does it a few more times before he's letting your hands go, watching you do it by yourself.
"That's good. Keep it tight." His words of praise shamefully give you a rise, a cool shrivel slivering down your chest. You swear he's doing it on purpose, you swear.
While you flick at your knife with the silver sharpening tool, you look to the side, not directly looking at him but it's enough to grab his attention to your face. "Remember that hexapede I killed?" He hums in a curious tone, and you take it as a response to speak further. "Well, I tried looking for it, but it wasn't there. Some other animal must've snatched it up."
"Nah, I carried it back to the village," he announces.
"Right. When you left me?" you ask, tugging a sharper strike to your knife than the other strikes. Jake notices it. His jaw tenses, blinking to you with his eyes boring holes into your form.
"When I left you." He swallows, "Listen, I wanna apologise—"
"Oh, you want to apologise, Jake?" you laugh sarcastically, venom dripping from your words.
His jaw tenses, "I didn't want to leave you."
You snap your head back, a glare stung into your eyes. "But you did."
"You're making it out like it's a bad thing that I did."
You laugh dryly, chucking your knife onto the ground as you stand up. He immediately stands up with you, glowering over you. "You know that it is."
"Don't tell me what I know and don't know, girl." Jake warns, nose twitching. "I helped you, and then left. That simple."
"You can't tell me that you weren't just fucking me to help me. That's not how it works and if you say otherwise, you're lying," you snarl.
He's quiet for a second, searching back and forth between your eyes with his chest rising with a long breath in, "I don't—"
You give him a harsh shove to the chest, hissing out a groan of anger. His eyes blow out wide, then they relax into a dangerous squint. Your eyes widen. He reaches for you and grabs firmly at your wrist, his fingers clutched tight around your bone and your arm twitches with the sudden  spring of pain. You attempt to slip your wrist out of his grasp, and when it doesn't work and he doesn't budge, you claw at his jaw recklessly. It's successful and he lets go of your wrist with a grunt.
He grabs your hair, fisting his fingers through your scalp before yanking it back. You swing your leg and kick him in the stomach, sending him back as you zoom past him.
He acts quick and grabs your tail, tugging you back towards him and for the millionth time this week, presses you against him. You stamp on his foot, digging your nails into the skin of his arm and he cries out, a half-hiss and half-groan. He flips you, finds the tree right beside you and pushes you flat against it. He takes both of your wrists into his hands as he shakes them angrily. You scramble and squirm in his grip. "I'll tell you what I know, girl, and you'll fucking listen."
You whine out a hiss, heart beating against your rib cage like it's about to pop out and splatter across the ground. He hisses back, edged fangs spiking out from his mouth and it makes your skin crawl in either a bad or a good way, you're not entirely sure.
"I know that you're the most beautiful person I've ever fuckin’ seen," he pants. "You don't know what you do to me, huh? Just your giggle makes my stomach drop. It annoys the shit out of me how you've got me drawn to you, it's damn stupid. I don't know what to do with myself anymore."
You try to wiggle your wrists out from his grip, but it proves to be helpless, a smug look flickering in his eyes that makes you want to clock him straight in the face. Jake picks your joined wrists up off the tree and slams them back onto the wood for a hard warning. "You— you think you're confused?" you sneer between huffed breaths. "Mr. I'mfuckingyoutohelpyouconcentratenotbecauseIwantto. Like that doesn't fuck with my feelings! By the way— it didn't help me focus, just like the last time, what a surprise."
His lips split into a snarl, an annoyed flick of his tail as he glares you down, his chest grumbling with a deep growl. You return him with the same feverous eyes, chest strong and upheld with no sense of backing down.
Then you catch it. The weakness of only a man; the millisecond of a pair of eyes dropped down to your heaving lips. Your eyelashes flutter, a new tension rushing in like a thick cloud of smoke. Your heads jut forward at the same time, teeth clashing in a rushed, wanted motion morphed into a messy kiss.
But it's different this time. It feels different, different than the first kiss he gave you the first time you were pushed up against a tree. You can't pinpoint it, but it's just different.
He lets your wrists go, grip fading to a none until your arms are flopping around his shoulders. His tongue slips with ease into the cavern of your mouth, as he uses a hand to cup the part of your neck just below your ear, bring your face even closer to his. You let your head tilt, allowing him a wider opening to your mouth that he groans lowly in thanks to.
He skims past your loincloth, palming your hot cunt and grinding the hard edge of his palm directly onto your clit. "This give you déjà vu from last time?"
You groan, back arching towards his head. "Shut up and put your fingers in me," you whine.
"I remember leaving with the biggest fuckin' boner. Seein' you all whiney and shit and like putty in my hands," he claims, seeming like he can just feel the pain from remembrance. "Good thing you can fix it for me this time."
He says this as he leisurely slides two fingers into your cunt, and you suck in a tight breath, the thick girth of them lengthening you out. "And just like that, sucking me allll the way in," he whispers in astonishment, just like the last time.
"Will you just shut up?" you groan, wheezing out a groan when his fingers curl into your walls. He strokes them in and out of you, slowly and steadily. He presses loosely at your clit, gentle circles on the sensitive bud.
Then he suddenly pulls his two fingers out, staring at the thin strings of your juices that stick to his finger pads, "Wet enough."
He kneels to the ground in a rush, taking you with him as he fumbles to untie your top. You drag your hands along his skin, touching every patch of hard bone and toned muscle you can manage. You're both kneeling in front of each other, grabbing at any clothing that gets in the way of each other's fingers. He pushes you back with a hand, laying you out in the grass as he scoops his hand down to your pussy, runs a thumb over your clit. Jake leans down, grabbing at the bone of your hips and jutting you closer to him.
Jake cooly wraps a hand around his cock, sighs as he starts to stroke the length in slow movements. He reaches out from behind him, and your stomach drops. He presents his tsaheylu to you with a sense of shyness, his head tilted down. You look between him and the glowy, spiky end of his platt.
Your silence speaks volumes to him, and just before he's going to say something to rub it off as a joke, you're reaching from behind you as well, body squirming in anticipation as you air your tsaheylu next to his. They twitch and fizzle, swaying so close and it's just that tiny bit of space that needs to be filled.
He looks to you, eyes softening in one last ask and you give him a reassuring, hasty nod. He readjusts his grip on his platt, leaning his tsaheylu just a little closer and they connect. A surge of electricity bolts through your body, biting in a gasp as your skin jitters. You feel it, you feel him, understand him. Understand everything.
Jake's blinking rapidly, as he leans over you just to nuzzle his face into your neck, his hot pants of breath pressing into your skin. He slurs over his words, "Oh my... fffuck, s' good, you're so good."
"Jake," you warn, voice wavering as you tremble underneath his warm body. "Need you ins— inside me. Right now, Jake, please."
He teases his cock at your entrance, letting out a shaky breath at your warm wetness trickling down his tip. You gasp when he slips it in with one thrust, bottoming out perfectly as he sits in snug. He breathes out a quiet laugh, "You're so... fuck, girl. So warm and— and ni—hice."
You dig your nails into his back, tail curling around his thigh. You feel everything he feels, connecting with him at such a level that all you can do is hold onto him, just needing to feel him, to hold him and kiss him and fuck him and do everything as long as it's him. You can only rasp one word out. "Jake."
He snaps his hips into you, starts at a pace that's brutal and uncalculated. His cock pushes into your tightness with ease, like it was made for him. You pull him in with each thrust he gives you, welcoming him in to the warmth of your femininity, your body that he's claimed as his.
Your pussy flutters around his girth with every single groan he lets slip from his throat, voice cracked and husky from the euphoria he's coated with. He lands a kiss to your neck, suckling at the skin before biting down, a sting that zips through your body all the way down to your cunt. You squeal, back snapping into an arch and he scoops an arm around it, giving him a better grip on your body to deepen his thrusts, to strive further up into your pussy.
He desperately grabs at your thighs, swings them up and over his shoulders as your feet dangle in the air. It opens up a whole new angle, and you scream out, his dick hitting steeper and stronger inside of you. Your hair is tangled from the ground, the skin of your back grinding against the dirt of it.
At the new found angle, he groans, head leaning up a little as his eyelids close halfway, his eyes bruised in a haze. He's completely lost in the way you squeeze around him, the way his cock feels sliding into your tight body. It's like a drug. A new found addiction.
"Shut up, hah— jus' fuck me," you babble, a moan ripping out of your chest when his hips thrust a sudden jolt into your pussy, brushing over your cervix.
"How funny," he pants out, smirking like a goddamn idiot and you frown.
"What?" you question, a quick moan breaking from you when a random wave of heat splashes through your stomach.
"Bet Selkath wishes he was wearing this necklace." He rasps, letting a harsh laugh fall from his mouth as he reaches up a hand and tugs on your ankles wrapped right around neck.
You make a weak hiss, turning into a groan when he lifts his body higher, angles his cock deeper up into your cunt. "If you don't shut up, maybe I'll let him."
Jake growls, eyes flicking wild, turning a dark and dangerous hue that you can tell is whipped with a color of jealousy, even betrayal. "You won't even be able to feel him graze your pussy once I'm done with you."
You feel a purr erupt from your chest, your inner woman squealing in delight because yes, she screams, he must breed you until all you can feel his body and only his and nothing else.
He brushes a hand over your cheek, face distorted in complete bliss and he stares deep into your face, tail swishing at the way your mouth agapes. His hands slip to your waist, thumbs digging into your stomach and he uses it as a leverage to bring you back harder onto his dick, lifting you up until you're practically leaning on his body to stay off the ground. He bends you to his will like you're a rubber band, like a toy.
"So warm," he coos, and you whine, digging your head into the grass laying beneath it. You don't want him saying that, don't want him climbing his stupid fingers into your heart and taking it any more than he already has. The feminine instinct fixed in the depths of you screams mate, mate, mate. Big, protective mate that needs to pound you into oblivion or you'll lose your mind. That along with the anger that burns inside you, like a match that's been lit way too many times and is about to snap underneath the pressure of his hands.
"Jake, just shut up," you snap, sentence ending on a hasty push when he smashes his lips onto yours, exploring your mouth with the thick flat of his tongue. He kisses you with a fever, an aching want with a grunt falling from his lips and straight onto the slick of your tongue. Jake crawls a hand up your body and to your head, fingers threading through your hair and he turns your head forcefully, allowing him to deepen the kiss and wrap his tongue tighter along yours.
"God, you're just fucking beautiful," he grunts, slapping your hips. "With this pretty fucking pussy, s' good for me and your little noises and— ssshhit, my girl. S' made for me, you're made for me."
My girl. It makes your stomach spin, makes you clench around his cock driving in and out of you and he groans, "You liked that, huh? My girl?"
You feel his pace inch a slower, and you're confused. His hand scrapes to one of your hands, slipping through the gaps of your fingers and he conjoins them together, pressing deep against the ground. His mouth breaks from yours, deep, panting breaths shaking out from his chest as he leans down to ravage your neck, licking and sucking at your skin like it's a ripe fruit.
You recognise the speed of his thrusts. Slow but strong, like he's trying to memorise each drag of his cock squeezing into your pussy, each squelch and pull of your walls gushing around his length. The rock of his hips is sweet, an act of something you can only describe as passion. You scratch out a whine. You squirm from underneath him, attempting to buck yourself up into him to speed it up, make him nail so hard into you that you see stars. But it doesn't work. He stays the same warm speed, slow rocks into your pussy as he lowly sighs with every calming push.
"No," you whimper, voice lower than a whisper, so quiet it could count as another breath. You huff out an angered patch of air out through your nose. You use both hands and push him, and he doesn't expect it because he tumbles back, flipping onto his back and hitting the trunk of the tree with a big thump. You ignore the cold air pushing on your wet cunt, the sudden loss of his cock deep inside of you making you shudder.
You crawl onto him, eyes wide with hunger and from what he can see, anger. Your tail flicks as you palm his shoulders, knees on each side of his legs as you air just above his dick. You grip at his tsaheylo and conjoin it to yours again, a flush rushing through you both. You catch the way his eyes flatten against his head for a second at your determined, heated gaze, now realising the rage you held. A woman who's not satisfied with her mate's fucking, there's nothing scarier. Especially after everything he's teased her for, everything he's done to her for the past week.
"Baby, you ain't gonna last two rocks with those little hips." Jake mutters, emphasising the words two rocks as he places his hands comfortable on your hips. You don't reply, instead lowering your body and inch by inch, sinking down onto his cock. He lengthens you up, and you feel so full and nice that you let out a sigh that screams finally, all the while hearing Jake take the biggest breath you've ever heard him take.
You're not wasting time as you start grinding against him, ears twitching, head falling back in utter bliss. Jake slips out a quiet laugh, and it sounds nervous. He watches as your breasts shift with each sway of your hips, and his cock twitches inside of you at the obscure scene. It's perfect, so, so perfect with the way his cock drags through you. But you need more.
You begin lifting yourself up, rocking right back down onto him, the motion of riding coming into play little by little. Jake's breath hitches, his hands twitching at your hips. Your cunt pulses around him, puffy folds tugging his dick so perfectly. He lets his head slump against the tree, the rise of his chest speeding up.
You lean forward, a sudden desperation taking over you, the anger flickering in your abdomen crackling to a fire. You grab at his hair, press your cheek against the top of his head as your hips move in an up and down circular motion. Jake chokes out a grunt, springing forward to kiss at your chest, shoving his face into your breasts as his tongue lolls out along your bare skin.
He pants, messy kisses along your chest as his mouth fans out hot breaths. "My g—"
"Shut. Up." You pull on his hair, forcing his head further back and moaning as you stride your body, moving his cock in so deep, then moving it just about out before you rock it back in. You shift a hand to grip at the tree for better stability, rising up before gravity whips you back down onto his dick. A whine leaves his lips, a literal whine. It's so, so quiet, but you hear it, and he knows it. He can tell by the way your ears flutter at his head. You puff out a laugh that's hilted with breath.
He leaves deep kisses along your chest, kissing at the plush fat of your tits and decorating the map of your torso with dark marks and tiny red hickeys. His tongue finds your nipple, swirling it around the hard bud and you move your hips faster, huffing out a moan as sweat beads neat at your forehead. The blunt of his nails dig deep into the skin of your hips, and starts to move your hips with his grip, sharpening your strokes into his dick and you hum an appreciated sigh.
You've left him stunned for words, mouth hung open as you grind your cunt deep along his cock, riding him like he's a goddamn stallion. You wrap your fingers around his leathered choker, leaning your head back and pulling him rough into an even rougher kiss. You can feel him pant into the kiss, his silent groans pressing on your tongue. His lips are wet and messed with saliva from previous times, all the while making them softer and easier to run your tongue over.
A broken moan escapes his mouth, muffled by your lips engulfed in his but it only whips the fire tangled inside your tummy, makes your body swing harder along his. You give him a sloppy kiss on the corner of his lips, before nibbling at the bottom centre of it, "Who's whining now?"
His hips jerk up into yours, a stutter of a motion and you can feel the vibration, the angry rumble of his chest and it only encourages you further to drive your hips harder. "Still you," he bites, but his pinched expression melts into a blissful one when you raise your waist higher, slamming back down onto him in one quick motion.
Anger fuels through your bones, all the way down your body to your toes that dig into the ground, dirt blotched on them from the constant movement and curl of them. Jake snaps his hips up into your sopping sex, gaining a low groan through his chest as he digs his messy head of hair into the tree against him.
Your body burns and shakes with every stride of your hips, sliding his cock into you with reckless rhythm. You're shivering with hot emotion, a blurred mixture of adore and vexation, and Jake can feel every single drop of it. You feel him shift underneath you, eyes squinting and his tail whacking the tree accidentally with a swift brush. He mumbles your name, the hoarse gruff of his voice sending a shivered bolt down your spine.
You already know he's preparing some rushed apology, some kind of reason as to why he's been throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes lately but you don't want to hear it. All your body and your being screams at you is to ride his cock and make him spill into you. Mark him as yours.
You want the release, can feel it burning up inside you and splintering at your fingertips, ready to explode into flames. Except this time it isn't him giving it to you, you're giving it to yourself, circling your hips around his cock like it's the last thing you're going to do.
And by Eywa, does Jake fucking love it. He's too focused in the way your perfect little cunt drives him, slipping his cock into your body like it's a piece of cake. He's entranced by the way your hips dance, the perky little bone of them sticking out against your skin each time you lean forward into his stomach. He's getting fucked dumb, and he can't even bring himself to give a shit. Never in his life has he ever met a girl that could ride like you. No, never in his life has a ever met a girl like you. And he doesn't think he ever will, not that he wants or needs to now. Your body is just too sickly sweet, and everything in his body screams at him to just keep his cock glued into you, fill you with his cum until all you can feel is it.
You feel it coming, feel the same mountain morphing as it soars above you. You use your hand to lean at his head, using it as your advantage to ride him rougher, dragging his cock firmer into your cunt. He lets you, now fucking up into you with matched energy and you're bouncing from the capacity. Sweat is slick on your skin, mending with his own and you just need to feel him, touch the soft skin he owns as you bounce on his length. Apparently Jake feels the same, as he pinches and grabs at any part of your body he can reach, mouth touching where his hands can't.
He drags out your name, desperation covering the word and filling in the air after with throaty groans. “Let me come in you, sweetheart. Come on, please. Need to, darlin’ please, need—“
“Yes,” you squeal, scratching at his skin while jutting your hips against him violently. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you beg, crave covering your voice in a high-pitched whine.
Then it hits you, like a bomb setting off, the fire in your belly exploding into millions of little red embers. The mountain erupts like a volcano, and you can feel every little piece cracking down into the ground and out your body. Jake yells out, croaking out a loud grunt as he spills into you, coating your walls with his sticky load. Your head’s spinning, eyes seeing a splash of colors and all you can do is rock in his arms, as you attempt to catch your running breath.
You’re trembling, quaking even as you lay still, Jake’s cock sitting limp in your body. The only thing you can focus on is your conjoined breaths, everything else seeming to hard to even look at. You don’t even realise you’re crying until the tears sink to your neck, and the sound of your quiet sniffles.
You don’t know how long it’s been until Jake begins to shift, and you pull enough strength to lean back. He looks to you, his face set into a hue of content, a small smug smile pulling at his lips. He reaches out to your face, wipes the tears on your face with his thumb lazily. “Holy shit,” he chuckles.
You let out a needed, soft laugh, and his smile widens at the noise of it, tail whisking up at your reaction. He pulls in a breath, chest rising up as he takes both his arms and cups your face. You lean into his warm touch, slumping your forehead against his.
“I see you,” he whispers gently, curling a few fingers around your neck.
“I see you.” You whisper back, mouth cracking into a giddy smile. And when you look into his eyes, you recognise the emotion behind them within a second; love.
wow. biggest chapter out of all of them and i can’t decide whether i like it or not
BIG SHOUTOUT TO @slxttedjakesullyenthusiast who helped me make this filthy fucking piece of whatever it is and if u don’t go follow her im kicking you in the pussy don’t test me
4K notes · View notes
the-shriveler · 1 year
Note
Tumblr media
Zenyatta. Shrivel him
Tumblr media
OOOOHOOOHOOHOO YEEHAW
148 notes · View notes
lueurjun · 6 months
Text
ੰ first kiss with enha | ꒰ jake , sunghoon ꒱
Tumblr media
enhypen reaction—there comes a time in a lot of relationships where the next step is taken, and here’s how the nerve-racking first kiss experience went for you and your mans. kinda long, i got carried away<3
version one: heeseung and jay.
. . . . . . . ꒰ JAKE ꒱ ,,
FERAL BOY PT2
the rizz this man has is insane
but like heeseung, when it comes to you, his confidence kind of shrivels up and dies
you make him tongue tied
and you know it too ❪ he’s not exactly subtle with the bright red cheeks and stumbling over his own words ❫
to be honest it kinda fuels your ego
because who doesn’t love making a confident boy weak at the knees?
he’s a simp for you and it fills you with so much pride
not that he doesn’t make you weak at the knees
because he does
especially when he flashes you that pretty grin and calls you the most endearing name on the planet in that hot aussie accent of his
but you’re better at hiding it than he is
at least you can still form a sentence
with this, i feel like you’ll be the one to make the first move
because you’re a goddamn icon
the kiss happens a few weeks into your relationship so everything is relatively new
but you’re 90% sure that he wants to kiss you
because the amount of times you’ve caught that godforsaken boy staring at your lips
he even leaned in at one point and you were sure that was the moment
but then he got shy and backed away
i can literally imagine his shy face. i’m eating my pillows shsjsjs my gosh
you decided to wait it out and see whether he would grow some balls
because the thing about jake is that he’s all talk over text
the messages he sends you and his actions in person are drastically different
he’s so me
but after another week of missed opportunities, you’ve had enough
you want those plump lips on your own STAT
so you decide to take the lead because you are sick of jake and his inability to bring his texts to life
it finally happens on a cold tuesday evening, a month into dating
the pair of you decided to go on a cute little bowling date
jake swears he’s a legend at bowling but you’re certain you can beat him
and you do — which shocks the life out of him
that’s right. humble him bae
you’re on your last turn and you’re filled with nerves as you grab the ball
not because you’re worried about bowling, but because of what you’re going to do after it
the universe appears to work in your favour because you get a strike
victory washes over you as you turn and stroll towards him, a cocky smirk on your lips which he rolls his eyes at
even though it’s the goddamn hottest thing he’s ever seen
however, he’s caught off guard when you throw your arms around his neck and plant your lips onto his
bro literally freezes on the spot
hands hovering over your waist with his eyes wide
because you’re kissing him
YOU
ARE KISSING HIM?
alexa play that should be me
you quickly pull away when you realise that he’s not kissing you back
“did i read this wrong or—”
“no. absolutely not. i was caught off guard.”
you smile at how red his face has gone, and decide to try again
though you lean in slowly this time, and he’s faster, cupping your jaw as your lips move against each other
the smack he talked through text comes to life through the kiss which he takes the lead on this time
just casually making out in a bowling alley-
you pull away before the two of you could get scolded by a worker
he rests his forehead against your own and sighs
“thank goodness you did it first because i was absolutely shitting myself.”
. . . . . . . ꒰ SUNGHOON ꒱ ,,
to be frank, this poor boy is stressed
and not because he’s nervous about kissing you, no he’s anything BUT nervous
his frustration levels are off the charts because no matter how much he tries, you literally won’t let him kiss you
and you’re not intentional about it either, which makes it that much more frustrating
don’t hate me but you’re oblivious as hell
at this point, sunghoon isn’t even sure whether the two of you are even dating
because sure you hold hands, but you’ve never hung out with him alone outside of your group of friends
the two of you communicate through text and you call sometimes but it all just seems?? friendly??
i literally had a boyfriend that was like this, im speaking from the soul
it’s almost like you didn’t wanna be alone with him and it bruised his ego A LOT
and it hurt his feelings but he wouldn’t admit that one out loud
he knows you probably don’t mean anything by it, but he also doesn’t know how to bring it up to you
when he brought it up to his friends, they were just as clueless as him because you are quite unreadable and as sweet as they think you are, they also can’t figure you out
cue them all staring at you from across the room, trying to sus you out
“are we sure they know you’re dating?”
sunoo had meant no harm in his question, but it didn’t take the sting away
“maybe you’re delusional and it all happened in your head because they do not seem interested in you whatsoever.”
#supportivebesties
as if you heard jungwon’s comment, you turned on your heel and started walking towards him
which made all of them panic and get into poses that looked anything but natural
heeseung was reading book upside down
both groups of your friends merged together and try to act like they aren’t watching you drag him away
once out of earshot, you whip around to face him looking like a puppy that just got kicked
which catches him by surprise
because why are you upset?
ur a match made in headache heaven
and his surprise heightens with the next words that fly out of your pouted lips
“do you not like me?”
huh?
i beg your pardon?
does he not—
WHAT?
sunghoon can’t believe his ears
“do i not like you? shouldnt i be the one asking you that?”
ooh that was really bratty!
great now you’re both confused messes
staring at each other like ???
“it’s just- we- we don’t really act like a couple and i’m starting to think you don’t like me as much as i like you…”
sunghoon genuinely has to stop himself from laughing from sheer disbelief
because you had been feeling this way too?
what are the odds??
it’s almost like communication is a relationship foundation
“i do like you—way more than you realize. i was a little worried that you had forgotten we are dating…”
it’s humiliating to admit, but sunghoon supposes that honesty is the best policy in this situation
the way you unintentionally humbled him-
“then why didn’t you ever try to make a move…”
“i did! i tried kissing you multiple times but you always moved or walked away.”
you had? honestly you had no recollection of seeing him try to kiss you
perhaps you were just extremely oblivious
a brief silence settles over the two of you and neither of you are sure where to go from here
it’s almost painful and sunghoon’s fingers are itching to grab you and hold you in some way
“if i kiss you, promise you won’t walk away?”
it breaks your heart that he even had to ask
but you delicately raise your pinky finger, and marvel as he cautiously intertwines his around yours
“i promise.”
thats all he needs to hear before he draws you forward, pinky fingers still wrapped around each other as he finally feels your lips against his own
neither of you want it to end, revelling in the warmth each other provides with your pinky fingers still inlaced between you
it appears neither of you are willing to put an end to the moment, so your friends do it for you
a chorus of hollers and whistles echo through the air
“maybe he wasn’t delusional after all.”
688 notes · View notes
hoonvrs · 7 months
Text
FROM THE START — p. sunghoon
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
PAIRING sunghoon x fmr
GENRE idiots2lovers, fluff, unrequited love (?), getting together
WARNINGS mentions of blood and death ( hoons just dramatic ), swearing, they're idiots ur honour
W. COUNT 2.6k
S. NOTE god bless laufey.
Tumblr media
sunghoon hopes that you don’t notice the shift in his demeanour. how he’s loud and obnoxious when you both are surrounded by your friends, but suddenly becomes quiet when he finds himself in situations alone with you.
it’s not intentional. being surrounded by friends helps keep the intrusive thoughts of confessing to you at bay, but those urges come tenfold when there is no one else around. it’s just hard for him to find the words to speak to you when all his senses are overloaded with you, feeling his words get stuck in his throat whenever you look his way.
looks that do not help the urges mind you. a tiny voice in his head tries to delude that each glance holds something, that she might actually feel the same but sunghoon has always been a logical person. convinced himself that the softness in your eyes and the smile on your lips were because you were a kind person, definitely not reserved only for him.
you’re both sitting on a bench in the courtyard, facing each other after the others had classes they had to rush to. “so sunghoon, anything new?”
sunghoon has never been more grateful for your skill to hold conversations, fearing he’d burst out into love confessions if he tried to start the conversation. he could hear the voices screaming at him to tell you how he felt, seeing how the weather was beautiful and you both were alone. feeling an itch under his skin seeing you scratch and pull at your cuticles, wanting to reach over and hold your hands in his own.
“nothing much really, jay’s trying to convince me to make chocolates with him for white day.” he noticed you slightly perk up.
“already? white day is in three weeks,” you giggled, hiding your smile behind the sleeve of your sweater. he wished he could lean forward and move your arm, wanting to see your smile on full display for him to use in his scenarios when he's falling asleep, “do you not have someone you want to give the chocolates to hoonie?”
if this was a shojo manga you’d see sunghoon's nose bursting with blood after hearing the nickname escape your lips. it wasn’t the first time you’d given him a cute nickname and not the first time that one was used on him but it has a different feeling when you use it.
seeing you still looking at him with something in your eyes he couldn’t quite pin, “no?”
your smile slightly widened at his answer, seeing the glint disappear, “is that a question?”
he laughed under his breath, trying to avoid eye contact before he got down on one knee and proposed, feeling heat rise from his neck to his face. “why, are you expecting something from someone?”
sunghoon wanted the ground to swallow him whole. he didn’t expect his statement to be so straightforward but decided to save the embarrassment for him to wallow in later when he heard you laugh.
“maybe.”
nevermind. sunghoon wanted lightning to strike him where he sat he could already feel the little bit of his brain that thought he had a chance shrivel up and die. and if there was something sunghoon was almost as good at as he is at skating, it’s hiding his feeling. “really, who?”
just because his hope and dreams with you have decided to up and leave, he’d never let that ruin your friendship. maybe, along the line, he could prove himself to be worthy of your affection.
a light pink dusted your cheeks slightly, “i’m not telling. but he’s so perfect, he’s funny—”
a burning pain started bubbling at the pit of his stomach, feeling his spread its flames through his body rapidly. rejection would’ve probably been more merciful than listening to the girl you are in love with talk about her ‘perfect’ crush.
he felt a little guilty that his brain tuned you out when you carried on explaining your new soulmate, but sunghoons was sure if he kept listening to you talk about how much you adored the dimple on the side of this unknown man’s face he’d rip his hair out in front of you.
he internally thanked the lord when he saw a message from his mother asking of his whereabouts, knowing he wouldn’t be able to find an excuse to leave you without sobbing his heart out, “i’m so sorry y/n, i think i need to head home now. mums texting.”
he flipped the screen to show you. just because you so happened to be in love with someone else doesn’t mean he’d start treating you any differently. It just meant he had some competition.
“no worries! i should start heading home too,” you smiled, grabbing your bag as you both stood up. before he could react, he saw your figure rounding the table towards him, pulling him into a hug. “get home safely!” sunghoon stood there for a few minutes alone, staring at the path you disappeared from like the idiot he was before a call broke his thoughts, “hello? i'm walking home now.”
+
sunghoon thinks he’s going insane.
currently lying on his bed in the same position that he was in two hours ago, just staring at the ceiling. you can’t really blame him, he was being ‘productive’ in his words — which actually meant thinking about you in random scenarios where you both were happily married with a dog.
the only reason these daydreams last longer than the average person is because sunghoon has no control over his mind. one minute he’s confessing to you with a song as you sit there shocked because sunghoon can hold a note when he wants to, but it seems the possibility that his love may be unrequited still loomed over his thoughts.
suddenly, you’re looking at him with pity, saying you have feelings for someone else that wasn’t him. even in his delusions he’s not safe from the terrifying and very real chance that you may not be harbouring any feelings that are in any way romantic towards him.
rolling over to smother himself in his pillow so his sister wouldn't hear him screaming at the top of his lungs, which he quickly realised was useless as he heard her voice shouting ‘shut up!’ from down the hallway.
maybe it wasn’t the right moment to start thrashing around in his bed like those girls in dramas when their crushes notice them, except his crush isn’t noticing him in the way he wants, because that’s exactly what jay and jake walk in on, “bro. what the fuck are you doing?”
sunghoon would’ve been more embarrassed if the boys currently welcoming themselves into his room hadn't already witnessed him at his lowest, but that didn’t stop him from being annoyed that his personal time with you ( in his head ) was cut short. “who even let you in?”
“mama park,” jay said, throwing himself on the bean bag beside his bed, “now why are you throwing a tantrum by yourself? did y/n reject you?”
“no,” sunghoon grumbled, throwing a dirty look towards the other two boys who were looking for any signs of a broken heart. “i haven’t even confessed yet.”
jake throws him a funny look that sunghoon would’ve taken more offence to if it wasn’t for what he said right after, “that’s if you even get a chance, i heard that junseo from heeseungs class is planning to ask her out!” you’d think they were talking about regular school gossip with the way jay and jake were invested as if talking about strangers who probably didn’t even know their names and not sunghoon's wife and mother of his kids.
well not kids, dog.
if jake hadn’t been sat at his desk on the other side of the room he would’ve lunged at him, instead opting to throw pillows using all his strength with malicious intent. he couldn’t understand jake screaming over his own voice, “what do you mean?!”
the only reason he stopped his attack was because he ran out of things left to throw, unless jake provoked him enough to throw his lamp at him, “dude! what is wrong with you?!”
“when is he asking her?” you’d think the soul of john wick possessed sunghoons body with the way he was staring at his friend who was acting as if he’d just been hit by bricks and not a few feathers.
“i don’t fucking know!” jake carries on to wail dramatically, the usual, “i’m calling the police, can’t believe you just assaulted me.”
sunghoon blocked out the sounds of jay and jake bickering as the situation dawned on him. he was going to lose you.
throwing himself back onto his bed like the prepubescent girl he was, going back to looking at the ceiling. except this time all his scenarios end in you saying the god-forsaken words.
‘i have a boyfriend.’
then out comes junseo with his big biceps, and his big beady eyes ( they’re actually very beautiful but sunghoons trying to wallow in self-pity right now ) and probably more experienced in life being a year older, of course, you’d be into older guys; not immature boys who still can’t leave his leg out the blanket in case a demon drags him into hell.
i mean, that doesn’t sound as bad as you getting with somebody that’s not him.
sunghoon had to ask you first, the possibility of you also liking him back is low but not zero. he had to take his chances.
+
in his delusions, sunghoon always imagined confessing to you romantically. preferably in front of the eiffel tower that he rented out just for you because he’s also super mega rich in these scenarios, or in the rain by a random lake where he’ll confess and you’ll pull him into a passionate kiss as a reply because you’ve always shown your words through your ( even in his dreams ). or even the odd times where he catches himself imagining confessing to you infant of the whole student population because he’d just watched bunny girl senpai — courtesy of his soobin-hyung — i mean, he has always had a knack of embarrassing himself in front of you so it’s not too far fetched.
but not this. never had he imagined himself walking to your house at 5pm in his pyjamas, he’d contemplated waiting for the sunset so at least there be a pretty view but he knew he’d have chickened out if he waited another few hours.
this decision was last minute, hence the outfit choice, he could hear his blood rushing past his ears and his heart beating out his chest as he picked up his step, hoping to get to you before the adrenaline wore out and he was back to square one.
he was hasty but not stupid. he had made sure to message you beforehand to ask if you were even home because if he walked 45 minutes just to face your parents he thinks he’d just start crying, and thank the lord you were. you’d even supplied that you were currently home alone and sunghoon saw that as a sign from god that it was time.
you’d think walking almost an hour he would’ve had enough time to compose a proper confession, with pretty words and flowery notes but to his core sunghoon was an idiot. so instead he spent his time wisely by going through every negative scenario possible.
you could slam your door in his face or slap him or even laugh in the middle of his speech cause he has a habit of stuttering when nervous. he doesn’t quite know which one would be worse, he just hopes that you let him down slowly and knowing you, you would. you’d probably reject him in the nicest way possible that wouldn’t even leave enough room for him to dwell on his broken heart, you were always sweet like that.
next thing you know, sunghoon is standing in front of your door showing no intention to actually ring your doorbell as he tries to calm his nerves down and of course, that would be the moment you open the door. there goes his effort as he feels his heart rate pick up again, “oh! you got here quickly hoonie.”
all sunghoon can hear is buzzing as he watches you smile at him. how could anyone expect him to even be able to think straight with you looking at him like that, it was already unfair that you looked so cute in your pyjamas whilst he probably looked like he’s been evading the police for weeks now.
“are you okay?” you wave your hand in front of his face. not the first time since he was known of his habit of daydreaming randomly but something stops working when you start to speak again, “did you hurt yourself on the way h—“
“i like you.”
he’s fucked it. no harm in just digging his own grave deeper by rambling the rest of his feelings.
“like a lot. a lot a lot, like i’m basically in love with you. it’s like cupid is shooting arrows at my heart every time you talk to me and i know it sounds crazy but to me, it’s not, i didn’t even realise it at the beginning since it was a constant feeling around you but now I’ve known it’s because i’ve loved you from the start and i wasn’t supposed to confess to you like this like. i had a whole plan and speech and all but i had to do it right now or i don’t know if i ever would’ve.”
maybe he would’ve appreciated it if you cut him off ( preferably by a kiss ) to save him some embarrassment and to cut his long speech short because he can’t figure out exactly what the look on your face meant. “we’re so stupid.” you laughed, bending over in a fit of giggles leaving sunghoon confused, “this whole time we’ve liked each other all this time and didn’t even know.”
your words repeated in his head like a mantra liked each other, liked each other, liked each other. sunghoon thinks he’s going to faint.
“you like me back?”
sunghoon might start believing in god because his late-night fantasies suddenly became reality when you pulled him connecting your lips. it was only brief, a short peck, but sunghoon felt like he was on cloud nine, “that was nice.”
all he got back was a quick look of disapproval before you pulled him into your house.
+
sunghoon wished he didn’t tell you about junseo, because now he was watching you wheeze whilst trying to not throw yourself off of the couch and crack your head open. he can admit he got a little in his head over some rumour jake told with him but look where that got him now — a kiss and his feeling reciprocated.
after you composed yourself ( barely ) you spoke out breathily, “well, at least now you can tell junseo you’re my boyfriend.”
sunghoon should be concerned about how quickly his body shut down after hearing those words, “boyfriend?” “after all that we’re not going to date?” you sighed, already used to his slow tendencies, giving him a minute to catch his breath.
“we are! oh my god, you’re my girlfriend now.”
“congrats!” you gave him little jazz hands, he could already hear jays voice in the back of his mind playfully reprimanding you for indulging his antics. “you did what junseo couldn’t.”
yeah, he definitely regrets telling you because no way you’re ever letting that go. but some sacrifices must be made and if it keeps you this happy and makes you laugh that loud, sunghoon is willing to put his dignity on the line. or whatever left of it.
because now he has you, and he always has. missing the longing glances you threw his way, your efforts to get him alone so you had an excuse to focus your sole attention on him and him only without raising suspicion between your friend group.
he’s always had you, from the start.
Tumblr media
perm taglist @mesopret @whoschr ​@haknom @shinsou-rii @redm4ri @lacimolela @llama-lyna @boyfhee @lazysmushi @flwoie @kocokookie @kyexvly @seongclb @dammit-jjk @flwrshee @produmads ​@teddywonss @aleiouvre @dneltrise @aleiouvre @nyxvrse @yohanabanana @whois-alexis @sngvhs @tinyegg @sserafimez @satsuri3su @yuemvi @chirokookie @idk-tbh777 @seongclb
471 notes · View notes
whereonceiwasfire · 4 months
Note
If you're game to write a cheese melt (Vlad & Dani father-daughter dynamic) ficlet, I'd love to read one. If not, that's cool :)
*vibrating with excitement* My friend. Your cheese melt art has been living rent free in my head for WEEKS. It's my sincerest pleasure to write a ficlet for this. I hope it's okay that it's an outsider POV, I just had an idea and my brain went brrrrrrr LOL
May I offer you a dysfunctional parent-teacher interview?
Parent-teacher interviews are always a nightmare, but there's one in particular that’s making Amity Middle School’s beloved Ms. Burnell sweat through her shirt. As the time slot nears, her gaze keeps flickering to the clock, her classroom door, back to her nervously interlaced fingers on the desktop.
It’s going to be fine. Perfectly fine.
“This one! Over here! Dad! This is my class!” The excited words, shouted in the syrupy sweet voice of a little girl, sets every nerve on edge, Ms. Burnell’s heart plummeting straight into the pit of her stomach.
Oh lord. Maybe it’s not going to be fine. 
Her student comes bounding into the classroom, eyes bright and excited, oversized blue sweater sleeves slipping over her hands, even as she gestures emphatically for her father to follow. Black hair spills out of her ponytail, whipping across her face as she throws herself into a desk across from Ms. Burnell’s with a bright smile. 
Her father, on the other hand… 
The heel of his expensive Italian loafers strike against the linoleum as the man stops at the threshold of the classroom, cool gaze doing an assessing sweep of the space, expression crinkling in distaste as it does. He doesn’t say a single word, doesn’t make any move to actually step inside the classroom. 
Ms. Burnell is the one who clears her throat, pushing to an awkward stand as she extends a hand out to the man. 
“Hello, Mr. Masters. Thank you for making the time to come discuss your daughter’s education. I know you’re very busy.” 
The man’s eyes slip to her outstretched palm, and for a motifying second, she doesn’t think he’s going to take it. When he finally does, he just gives a brief, cursory shake before swiping his palm off on his suit jacket and striding past her toward his daughter. 
Ms. Burnell’s face is all kinds of warm, chest tight with embarassment as she fumbles back to her desk, trying to wrestle herself back into some kind of composure. Still, she barely looks up as she pulls out a folder with Danielle Masters scrawled across the tab.
“Dad! Dad! That one’s mine! Do you see it? Do you like it?” Danielle calls proudly, tugging on her father’s suit sleeve and pointing toward the paintings that are spread out beneath the windows to dry, paper wavy and crinkled.
“Oh, er. That’s actually a good place for us to start,” Ms. Burnell cuts in apologetically. 
Mr. Masters gaze snaps from where he’d been examining his daughter’s project, over to her, brows dropped low. 
“Why? Is there a problem with my daughter’s work?” The question is sharp, accusatory, and she’s pretty sure her soul shrivels up a little bit at the unguarded disdain in the man’s eyes.
Swallowing hard, sweat beading against the back of her neck, Ms. Burnell resists the urge to immediately take it back. Surely he can see the problem with the piece—isn’t going to make her say it? 
It's too scary.
When his challenging gaze doesn’t waver, she forces the words out. 
“Uhm. Well. It’s just. Not quite. Appropriate for a sixth grade class?” It pitches up into a question as she gestures vaguely toward Dani’s painting. 
It’s a bit sloppy, the layers of paint caked upon each other, the lines hasty and uneven, but the scene itself is clear enough—a little, smiling, white-haired girl in the shadow of some kind of hulking creature, its skin blue, eyes red, sharp fangs bared as its cape flares out to take up the rest of the page. 
Ms. Burnell almost set up an appointment for Danielle with the school counselor when she saw it, wondering if Dani felt like she was the little girl, trapped amongst nightmares and “monsters.” She decided against it for the time being, until she could speak with the girl’s father, but that’s proving rather unhelpful so far if the contemptuous way the man is looking at her is any indication.
“Did Danielle complete the assignment?” he asks finally. 
“Uhm. Yes.” 
“And adhere to the grading criteria?” 
“Sh-she did,” Ms. Burnell answers reluctantly.
“Then I don’t see the problem,” he answers, finality in the words as his gaze turns to his daughter. He takes a much softer tone with her, brushing the disorderly strands of hair off her face, an absent domesticity in the way he straightens the ponytail gone lopsided. “I think you did a lovely job, dear.” 
“Thank you! I used Alizarin Crimson,” she answers proudly, hair flopping right back into her eyes.
“Excellent choice.” 
“Uhm. Well, there’s also the matter of Danielle’s conduct,” Ms. Burnell cuts in.    
The man lets out an irritated sigh, arms crossing over his chest as he leans back against one of the desks, one ankle crossed over the other, unimpressed gaze finding Ms. Burnell once more. 
“What?” he says, like it’s an inconvenience.
She swallows hard. “She’s been…uhm. Not getting along with some of the other girls.” 
“That is so unfair, Mackenzie started it!” Danielle shouts abruptly, popping up to her knees on her chair, palms slapping down against the desktop. 
“Well that’s not what Mack—” 
The girl keeps going, cutting Ms. Burnell off. 
“She said the only reason Eli agreed to play with me at recess was because Joshua dared him too, and I said nuh unh and she said yuh hunh, and I asked how she knew that, and she couldn’t even prove it, it was so obvious she was making it up!” 
“Mackenzie told me that you said some pretty unkind words to her, Danielle.” 
“Barely! I just said it was a bad look for her to be so jealous of me and just because she looks like she fished her outfit from the same trash bin she got her personality from isn’t any reason to be a jerk.”
Her father’s expression twists into a sharp smirk, amusement lighting his blue eyes, and Ms. Burnell thinks she’s starting to get a better sense of why Danielle is proving to be one of the most challenging students in her class this year. 
“We treat people with kindness and respect in this classroom, Dani. Do you think what you said to Mackenzie was kind and respectful?” 
“Well…” Dani’s gaze drops, expression pinching in thought, and Ms. Burnell thinks she might actually be getting through to her.
“It doesn’t sound as though this other girl was treating Danielle with kindness and respect,” Mr. Masters answers, the words coming out with a mocking turn, like he finds the concepts incidental at best.
“That’s true. She did start it,” Dani reasserts, turning her gaze up to her dad.  
“I’ve spoken to Mackenzie about her part in everything,” Ms. Burnell answers tightly. “But we’re here to talk about Danielle’s conduct. That’s not the only incident of its kind that’s occurred this year and—” 
“You know, it sounds to me as though Danielle’s doing just fine,” Mr. Masters says, pushing up to a proper stand, tugging the bottom of his sleeves and smoothing the dark, wrinkleless fabric.
“But—” 
“Did she make this girl cry?” 
“Well. No, but—” 
“And how are my daughter’s academics?” he asks, gaze fixed on hers, sending a chill creeping down her spine. 
“Fine, but—” 
“Has she gotten into a physical altercation with anyone?” 
“Not exactly, but—” 
“Started any fires?” he asks, sarcasm and derision dripping from the words. 
“No, she hasn’t started any fires.” 
“Then I believe this meeting is finished. Thank you for your time, Ms…”
“Burnell,” she answers weakly.
“Thank you for your time, Ms. Burnell. Danielle, are you ready to go?”
“Yup!” She pops up to an enthusiastic stand, rushing over to the windows to snatch up her painting, twisting it toward Ms. Burnell. “Can I take this home?”
She gives a heavy sigh, massaging her temples with her fingertips. “Sure, Dani. That's fine.” 
“Thanks, Ms. B!” As the girl traipses after her dad, a bounce in her step, horrifying painting swinging at her side, Ms. Burnell can hear the girl still chattering away, even as they pass out of her classroom, voices growing distant. “Do you think I should have made Mackenzie cry?” she asks.
Ms. Burnell is glad she can’t hear the man’s response—she doesn’t even want to know his answer.
340 notes · View notes
guacamoleroll · 1 month
Text
— 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖘 .ᐟ · 𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔲 𝔡𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔦 ༉‧₊˚
𝖘𝖚𝖇𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖞𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖘 ⇢ "I have an idea maybe a old bookstore date with Dazai would be so cool :D"
𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙. f!reader. tooth-rotting fluff. established relationships. forehead kisses, teasing, quiant bookstores cuddling, romance. dazai is a menace to society, but secretly soft. not proofread. 1.4k+ words.
𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊. this was the request i accidentally misread in this post. so sorry! it's been months since this was placed in my inbox, but i haven't been able to get around to requests in a while. thank you for patiently waiting, and i hope you enjoy! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و
would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘. an earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off.
OR you drag your boyfriend into a bookstore, and shenanigans ensue.
Tumblr media
The devilish brunette dared to chuckle under his breath, head held high as he paraded you down the street, hand-in-hand. For someone who had been the brunt of a heavy lecture by the agency's resident stickler, he was in a delightful mood. Not that Kunikida's scolding had ever been able to properly put Dazai in his place.
You had entered the office after an extended morning mission, only to be dragged out again; the only clue to your sudden kidnapping was the twitch of Kunikida's brow as you were flung out the door, clueless to the occurrences that had occurred moments prior. When questioning Dazai about it, he simply met your inquiries with a cat-like grin.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
You deadpanned at his obvious avoidance of the question, though quickly relented to his schemes. If there was one thing anyone knew about Osamu Dazai, it was that he always got his way, one way or another. And it was rare to have any time off, so you decided not to think about whatever strings he pulled and enjoy your time together.
You scrolled through the map on your phone, lips pursed. "Has anything new opened recently?"
"You know, we could just—"
"And no," you cut him off, striking him with your eyes. "We are not jumping off another bridge. You remember what happened the last time you decided to test gravity?"
He pouted, bottom lip jutting out. "It's not my fault. The bridge was higher than it looked."
You rolled your eyes. Dazai was such a man-child sometimes.
He perked up, his eyes sparkling. "What about that ramen shop down the road?"
"No," you grimaced, nose shriveling. "They have flies."
"The bar on the corner?"
You shook your head. "Too many rowdy guys."
He whined, flailing his arms into the air. "I give up! Just tell me—"
Only to realize that you were no longer walking beside him. He paused, staring at the empty space before his eyes dotted back. You had stopped before a window, eyes wandering across the inside of what he had surmised to be an old bookstore. He froze as you glanced up at him—he knew that look.
"No, no, no!"
RING!
He cried out for anyone to help as he was dragged inside, acting more like a toddler than a loving boyfriend as he clawed at the doorframe, only to be pulled in inevitably. The older woman at the register stared incredulously at your odd behavior, though you had long become accustomed to the stares you received in public with Dazai.
"I don't wanna go!"
"Calm down!" You pushed him into a chair in the corner with every ounce of strength. "Stay right here. I'll only be a minute."
He groaned, flopping back into the chair with a brilliance only someone in theater could muster, legs swinging over the arms of the chair as he continued to gripe to himself. You hid your laughter behind your palm, lest you incur his infantile wrath, walking into the next aisle.
He didn't want to admit that this store was quite lovely. An earthy aroma permeated through the air, a collection of different smells gathered from every page and cover as the warmth of the room clashed with a battering from a faltering AC unit that kicked on and off. And it was tranquil, not eerily so, but a stark contrast from the loud traffic outside, especially since no one else was around. It was a quaint little store that was an obvious magnet for little bookworms like yourself.
As the seconds flew by, Dazai tapped his foot to the beat of an ancient cuckoo clock that stared at him from the wall. Minutes passed, his head lolling back against the head of the chair, breath pacing to a slow point.
CUCKOO!
He had no time to brace himself, startling as he tumbled out of the chair with a thud. His groans were the accompanying chorus to the clock, which he stared at in scorn. Damn. It had already been forty minutes. What were you doing? Even through the tinted windows of the store, it was clear that the sun had begun its descent in between surrounding buildings.
He pulled himself from the uncomfortable floor and started his search, but it didn't take any time at all to find you.
"There she is."
He was about to call out, but his complaint became lodged in his throat. Instead, he hid in the next aisle, peeking between the cracks of another bookshelf. It seemed that you hadn't noticed time had passed at all, eyes glued onto the page of the book cradled in your hands. In fact, several other books were stacked next to you on the floor, awaiting your watchful eyes. Your expression could only be described as a kiss upon a cloud, fingers nestling the pages of the book with such care, eyes scanning every word as you intended to soak the story in.
A part of him felt jealous. How could an inanimate object take up so much of your time? Time that was supposed to be focused on him! But there was another part of him; he couldn't quite place it.
You finally spotted him as he rounded the corner, sparing a glance at one of the clocks as the realization struck you, turning back with a crooked smile.
"Sorry. I lost track of time."
"Here." His fingers braced against your shoulders, carefully prying your aching back from the unforgiving bookshelves as he settled in behind you, much to your surprise. "That's better."
"D-Dazai, what're you—?"
"So, what's this one about?" His arms slung around your waist, practically a second nature for him as he enfolded you in a koala-like embrace, your back snug against his chest.
You only blinked, and a knowing smirk grew on his lips. "Use your words, love."
You sputtered, slapping his arm with the book before managing to settle yourself, stifling the heat that threatened to take over your whole body.
"It's a romance novel."
He raised a brow. "Romance?" He chuckled, and you did not want to address the way the low timber of his voice made your limbs turn to mush. "While I am an expert in the field, I would love to hear what seems to strike your particular fancy."
But you met him with hesitation. "Are you sure?"
"What?" he cooed, his nose nuzzling into your neck, the warmth of his breath prickling your skin as he laid down a path of kisses along your throat. "Is it so hard to believe I want to hear your beautiful voice?"
You resisted the urge to squirm away but sighed, looking down at the page. It would be nice to read to someone, would it be?
He barely paid attention to your narration of the book itself, occupying his thoughts as he toyed with strands of your baby hairs between his fingers, his ears picking up the shift of your tone, mellifluous in nature. He hadn't processed precisely what you were saying, but he couldn't help but be enraptured in the rise and fall of your voice, filled with emotion as the story rose to a peak. Neither of you had paid attention to the kisses that he littered across the crown of your head, the motion only settling the butterflies in your stomach to sleep.
As the clock ticked forward, your words began to haze, slurring together as you crawled toward the final page.
CUCKOO!
This time, no one was startled by the intrusive sound. The sun had set into the horizon, leaving you within the glow of faded lamps and flickering lights; the book slumped over in your lap as your breath drew deeper, eyes fluttering closed. Dazai smiled, no mockery or tease, careful not to wake you as he lifted you bridal-style. He was surprised you didn't stir, not once, even while he half-hazardly managed to pay for the book with his spare cash. The woman at the counter was even nice enough to take a few dollars off, too distracted with cooing at your sleeping form.
His little charmer, even while asleep. Awfully cute.
RING!
"Osamu," you mumbled, voice lethargic as the bell and brisk air stirred you from your slumber. The incessant tease shushed you, kissing your forehead with a smile.
"Shh. Rest, love."
And he walked on into the night. Another satisfying date under your belt, if slightly unconventional. But he wouldn't have spent his day any other way. It was worth the lecture.
Tumblr media
taglist: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin
© 𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 2024 — 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆 𝗈𝗋 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘀 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽!
169 notes · View notes