#It's high time I did a proper drawing of him

[amethystina]

I just watched episode 1 of Devil Judge and I am not dissapointed! 😊

The whole world and setting are very fascinating. That trial did look like a real TV show (something that doesn't seem so far fetched to be in our world, a bit like people online are already condemming other people really)

Oh man, that end scene with Kang Yo Hang yawning and THEN letting that one tear fall down his cheek..... 😮😮😮Yeah, he's not a good person at all......

Kim Ga On looks like a sweet little puppy at this point. A bit naive even? But he's also strong enough to ask questions and raise his concerns to Kang, I find that fascinating!

(Also, the moment where Kang pushes Kim against the bookcase and then takes a bit too long to remove his hand as he talks about Kim being single and mentioning his shirt..... That was INTENSE)

Glad to have you on board ;)

And yeah, I very much like the world they've set up. It feels quite like our own, but still different enough that you can accept if some things are a bit weird — like the Live Court Show. Because while I agree that, in many ways, it just feels like an extension of all the condemning we already do as a society, it IS still pretty farfetched. But, man, does it make for a fun plot!

Trying to figure out the puzzle that is Kang Yo Han was literally one of the most entertaining parts of the drama for me. Like, is he a villain? An anti-hero? Both? Neither? They keep you guessing, that's for sure and it was one hell of a ride, at least for me.

And, in a similar fashion, Ga On isn't quite as simple as he seems, either. While he's very kind-hearted and perhaps a little bit naïve at first, he is also very clever and strong-willed. And very determined to figure out what the heck Yo Han is up to. And I truly adore that about Ga On. It would have been so easy to make him into a soft, gentle, and ultimately rather weak character, but no. While he might cook you a five-course dinner one evening, he's still going to punch you in the face the following one, should you piss him off too much. I like that about him.

Aaaaaand yeah. The bookshelf.

Fun fact: when I started watching this drama, I knew absolutely nothing about it aside from having seen the poster. As in this one:

And, not going to lie, it gave me pause because, uh, guys. That's kinda gay.

But then I saw it was a Korean drama and went: "Oh, well, not gay then. But someone at the marketing department DEFINITELY had a fun day at work."

Point being, anyway, that I decided to watch The Devil Judge because I was looking for something that WASN'T gay. I'd been bingeing a lot of those shows and just wanted a bit of a reset. So I went: "Oh, hey, this Korean show about corruption in a dystopian society definitely won't be gay. Let's give that a try!"

The Devil Judge: "... so about that..."

And, like, I could explain away Yo Han's lack of respect for personal space during their first meeting as an intimidation thing, and all of their verbal arguments made sense due to their differences in morals etc. But then the bookshelf scene happened and I just sat there going:

"... hang on a fucking second. Am I watching a gay show?"

Spoiler alert: I was.

I mean, sure, it's not officially gay. But it definitely is gay all the same. The subtext is about as subtle as the sub himself — i.e. will punch you square in the face more than once, with little to no warning.

BUT YEAH. Enjoy the ride? But also — and I will not stop repeating this — you give me way, way too much power over your media intake, darling x'D And, as I've stated to my followers before:

With great power comes great responsibility and, when it comes to The Devil Judge, I’m about as responsible as Kang Yo Han. That’s to say, you’re all fucked.

But thank you for joining me in this pit of sin also known as The Devil Judge fandom. Where the sugar babies are cheeky and the sugar daddies are, occasionally, manipulative mass murderers.

Whoops?

#Amethystina Replies #writingfanficsfan #The Devil Judge #I swear #I never really know how to react when I find out people follow me across fandoms #Like #Not that we happen to bump into each other in a new one #But that people genuinely choose to consume media just to be able to read my fics #Guys #I love you #But you give me too much power x'D #Also #You can tell I have a fever #I start making stupid jokes #Someone take my keyboard away #I'll go draw instead #On a .psd called 'The Abyss' #I mean #It's high time I did a proper drawing of him #Isn't it?

[neptunym]

ah! so jolly 🎄🕊

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #v1 #v1 ultrakill #christmas #ultrakill art #ultrakill fanart #gabv1el #gabriel #id included #i spent an ungodly amount of time on this one #but seeing new blood post santa dress gabe motivated me enough to keep going #no clue what posessed me to fully render this but christ im satisfied with the result so whatever #anyway. for the caption i almost typed something that might've contained a phrase no unlike ''v1 rides gabe" #but luckily i caught that on time because i would not have heard the end of it. not my proudest moment #speaking of. shout out to my friend for motivating me to keep the full drawing and not crop it to save time #thanks to him you get to see the thigh high boots #ediy: thinking back on it now. why the hell did i draw the cross on his helmet as a plus sign. hwat. #i usually draw it as a proper cross #gala draws

[etheries1015]

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #Malleus draconia #Malleus draconia x reader #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics

[no1deepspacehater]

You Get Into A Car Accident (Non Fatal)

Xavier

When he texted and you didn’t reply. He wasn’t worried.

When he went to your apartment, and you didn’t answer the door. He was mildly concerned.

When he saw on the news that a hunter was injured in a car crash. He grew worried.

And when he logged into the news feed of the UNICORN’s association, which shows direct information on all hunters, without proper pass, to see your status, he was frantic.

Nearly got into a car crash himself getting to the hospital, and when they wouldn’t let him in to see you, he flashed his high ranking badge, which got the message through.

You were unconscious when he got there, which suddenly reminded him how tired he was.

He prevailed through after checking with the nurses that you were okay, and with that, he pulled up a chair and blanket and fell asleep next to you.

You had to wake him up yourself after you had your breakfast (Saving some for him).

He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he blinked awake.

“You sure do know how to keep someone occupied (MC)… Try not to put yourself out of commission so often, or I’m going to have to find a new partner.” He mumbled absent mindedly as he consumed the rest of your fruit.

Zayne

If you’re not being taken care of at his hospital, he’s going to whichever one you’re at and taking over immediately. He’s THE Dr. Zayne so of course, he’s going to have his way.

For plots sake you’re at Akso Hospital for now.

If he’s in his office, whatever he’s doing is stopped immediately as his main priority is you.

If he’s dealing with another patient, or in a surgery, he’s still going to remain with his current patient, but his nerves are at an all-time high, which somehow makes him work better.

Says absolutely NOTHING as he tends to your wounds. You can’t tell if he’s seething with rage at you getting hurt or deeply disappointed that you got yourself hurt.

When you finally get the courage to say something, all you can say is his name.

“Doctor Zayne…”

He says nothing as he finishes applying a bandage. Afraid to say anything else, you wait until he’s done.

He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. He looks in your eyes, his own reflecting a type of tiredness you’ve only seen a couple other times you’ve been injured, but with battles instead.

To him, although you put your life in danger being a hunter every day, he’s reminded that the casualties of life are another thing he has to worry about with you.

He caresses your face and just whispers. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Rafayel

He’d called and texted, and you didn’t reply. Almost didn’t answer you when you called him the next morning.

When he saw you in the hospital bed, he got SO MAD.

Immediately hung up. You thought he was being a brat until he showed up to your hospital room exactly 10 minutes later.

“Some bodyguard you are…” He huffed, faux annoyed, as he pulled out fruit, water, a stuffed animal and balloons from his bag. How did he even get all this stuff in 10 minutes!?

Visits every day until you’re out. Argues with the nurses every time visiting hours come to a close. You have to tell him to shut up and go and apologize for him every time before they officially ban him from the hospital.

He brings his sketchbook in tow and draws scenes of you, you in the hospital, and car accidents tinged with red and dark blue. Even though they’re sketches, they still portray his feelings of anxious despair and sorrow of what could’ve been for the one he most cared about.

“Seriously, stop trying to get yourself killed all the time! … I don’t know what I’d do without you…”

#love and deepspace #lads x reader #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #rafayel love and deepspace #l&ds #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #loveanddeepspace #l&ds rafayel #l&ds xavier #l&ds zayne #love and deepspace headcanons #Lauve And Deepspace

[arminsumi]

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#tw: angst #angst #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x fem reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #corporate au #coworkers au #stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things drabble #yeah so I'm crazy busy and kind of not doing too well #so this is not proofread #but I wanted to put something small together so here you go

[slasher-male-wife]

Horror characters with an s/o who's love language is biting

So I'm sorry for barely posting anything in forever I've just been in a bit of a funk for awhile. Anyway @k1nn1e-0n-ma1n was super insistent I write this so shout out to him and his Bo Sinclair brain rot. This also was slightly inspired by @osirisisv RZ Michael Myers drawing.

Includes: Bo Sinclair, RZ Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, and Doomhead

Warnings: Violence kind of, Bo and Otis being a perverts kind of

Bo Sinclair

Lester was a biter as a child and Bo has a very high pain tolerance so you biting him doesn't hurt it just surprises him. He honestly didn't know what you did until he looked over and saw you biting his hand.

"The fuck are ya doin'?" He'll ask verbatim. He's not mad, he's just confused as to why at 5:47 on a Tuesday during him watching reruns of some 80's show you decided to bite him.

When you say it's a love language he immediately thinks it's a sex thing. You will quickly shut that down and he'll get a little less excited.

"I still don't understand why ya did that darlin." He'll say before pulling you either on top of him or underneath him and just holding you so you can't bite him again.

On occasion he'll let you bite him again, but if you do it when he doesn't want you too he'll storm off to wherever and ignore you until you make it up to him.

RZ Michael Myers

He has a very high pain tolerance but when he feels you biting him he'll immediately push you off of him or put you in a headlock. He won't let you out either unless you beg him.

He is very confused as to why you bit him, because to his understanding you're not supposed to hurt the people you love.

He's going to probably disappear for a few days to think this over, and because he doesn't want you to bite him again for a little bit. But he'll come back more understanding.

You can bite him, but only when he's prepared and you're willing to 'play fight' because let's be honest, play fighting with Michael is basically him thinking he's playing and you fighting for you life. Could put you in head lock again.

He honestly might just roll up his sleeve and indirectly ask you to bite him. But this will happen after a lot of talking about how biting him means you're not trying to hurt him you just love him.

Otis Driftwood

"Did you just fucking bite me?" He asks you. And honestly no matter where you bite him it's a bad idea because he would taste like cigarettes, blood, and dirt.

Will be mad until you explain you do it because you love him and he'll laugh. Will also think it's a sex thing but you quickly shut that down. He's a little disappointed but doesn't mind too awfully much.

He doesn't mind as long as you give him a proper warning before you do it. If you catch him off guard he'll honestly pull his arm or whatever part of him you bit and leave you alone for a few hours at the least

Because he's a little freak he'll ask you to try and bite him harder than you normally do it to see how much pain he can handle. You can probably draw blood before he tells you to stop.

Overtime he learns to love it and honestly doesn't mind too much anymore. If a victim tries to or actually bites him he'll laugh and tell you about it later. "Don't worry honey, they weren't as good as you."

Doomhead

He’s not exactly lucid all the time so he might not realize you’re biting him at first. When he does realize it he pulls his hand away and laughs about it. "Do I taste good to you or something sweetheart?"

Will tease you about it non-stop. Brings it up all the time even if there's nothing to do with it currently. He'll have a hard time understanding that you're doing it "out of love".

He might honestly buy you a dog chew toy as a joke if you bite him often enough. Or like one of those baby teething toys. He will laugh so hard about it, especially if you get embarrassed about it.

That's not to say he doesn't like when you bite him. He can find the repetitive feeling calming and it honestly might make him feel more lucid at times. But he'd never ask you to do it. He might gives you hints though

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #rz michael myers #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #doomhead x reader #doomhead #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[atlaswav]

FIRESIDE ✦

INFO: atla jet x gn! reader drabble, 1.4k words...... (bad writing i'm not proud💀) SYNOPSIS: you're the damsel in distress that falls for your saving grace. or: delusion WARNINGS: tiny bit of blood AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read (it wasn't supposed to be this long), I wrote this post without making it a proper fic to make up for the lack of jet fanfictions anywhere please take my contribution 😞 listen to fireside by the arctic monkeys 👍

You're a travelling merchant dealing in handmade weapons. Your craft is passed down in your family, and you recently left your hometown on your own for the first time to travel to Ba Sing Se to make a living there.

The day you two first met, you'd been on your horse all day, dragging behind you a creaky stand containing your life’s worth of materials and weapons (rattling with each step – it was beginning to grate on your nerves) with no signs of the glaring sun easing on your weary limbs. So when the forest suddenly falls far too silent for your liking, you don’t even notice in your heat stricken malady.

It’s only when a group of bandits abruptly seizes the reins of your horse, sawing loose your saddle straps when you realise you’re under attack. But by then, they’re already beginning to rifle through your belongings as you fall unceremoniously onto the hard dirt path, wincing as a bandit grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you up. 

You reach for the sword at your belt – the one that you crafted yourself under the guidance of your father once he’d deemed you skilled enough – but you didn’t even need to draw it before a bird call sounded amidst the cacophonous riot.

Emerging from the thick treeline, a band of – kids? Jumped out, wielding perilously sharp and comically large weapons for their ages and sizes. The bandits scoffed at their appearance, brandishing their vicious looking blades at the children who charged at them. 

Then the vice-like grip on your shoulders eased, and a hand appeared in the peripherals of your vision.

As you took the hand being offered – calloused and rough, yet warm – your saviour gave you a cursory glance, checking you for injury. When he finally met your gaze, you both froze in place.

Warm eyes, tanned skin, dark, unruly hair that loosely framed his face. In his other hand he held two long, hooked swords that gleamed in the harsh light. 

Jet couldn’t tell whether you were simply shocked or there was something wrong – either way, there was a fight surging around you, and there was no time for greetings and formalities.

(if you looked for any longer, you’d have seen the slight blush dusting his cheeks)

“Behind,” You had no time to process his meaning before he stepped in front of you, meeting the serrated blade of the bandit with his own weapons in a deafening clash of steel. You quickly drew your sword and slashed at the arm of another bandit whose club soared a high arc above Jet’s head, eliciting a howl of pain as they dropped the club onto the ground and scrambled for the trees.

You two seemed to make a pretty good pair. 

After the dust had settled, he offered you his flask of water, chest heaving, hair clinging to his forehead with perspiration, with a grin playing across his face.

“Thank you.” You take it, drinking your fill before capping the container. “But who are you?”

“We’re the freedom fighters.” His companions wave at you as they attempt to salvage the wreckage of your goods (which you supposed you should’ve also been doing, but you’d had a long day).

“And you?”

“They call me Jet.” he smiles, a glint in his eyes. “But you can call me whatever you want.”

I hate myself for writing that line but I can’t think of another thing for him to say

Anyway time skip a little, he showed you to the freedom fighter’s hideout, and you decide to pay them back for saving you by giving their weapons a little maintenance

They offer you further kindness by inviting you to stay for dinner, to which you accept – what choice did you have after the bandits spoiled most of your food on the ground?

You sharpen some swords, polish some daggers, and share a meal with the ragtag freedom fighters around the fire, laughing along with crude jokes shared about clumsy bandits. 

Then Jet comes up to you with his hooked swords hanging loosely from his grip – offering them to you for maintenance – and your curiosity gets the better of you.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” You observe the craftsmanship of his swords, testing their balance, running your finger along the blade’s hooked ends.

“Pretty neat, huh? They’re Tiger Blades. Traditional weapon.”

“Where’d you get them?”

“Stole it from a firebending soldier.”

You raised your eyebrows skeptically. “You fight off firebending soldiers regularly?”

A grin. “When the job calls for it.”

“That’s not… dangerous?”

“You’ve seen me fight, haven’t you?”

In the firelight, his eyes are alight with molten gold. 

“So your job isn’t just saving random people from bandits?”

He laughs, and the sound fills the air between you with warmth. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a random person,” you look up, but his gaze is cast into the fire, unreadable. 

When he doesn’t say anything further, you sustain the silence, only rummaging through your bags to find another stone to sharpen his blade with before the thought occurs to you. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’d rather not try to sharpen this blade. I don’t know how.” you attempt to hand it back, but he stops you.

“I can show you,” he leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air, watching you with a certain hopefulness in his eyes.

You nod wordlessly, and you hand him the stone, watching him tie his hair up. His brows furrow as he angles the blade, quickly running the stone along its edge. But you can’t focus on the blade – not really – as the firelight illuminates his features, basking them in a soft glow. 

“It’s not that hard – well it won’t be, for someone as experienced as you.” 

You’re grateful for the dim light, or he would’ve seen the blush highlighting your cheeks. 

“You just guide the stone along the edge as usual,” he absently says under his breath, “and use more force here.”

You nod blankly as he turns back to you, handing you the blade and the stone. 

“There you go.” 

You move to grab the handle of the blade, but your finger catches on its edge, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you lick the blood off your finger, wincing slightly as it rapidly flows out. 

“Sorry, I –”

“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t careful.” you shake your hand, grimacing at the throbbing pain. 

“Smellerbee, could you fetch the bandages?”

“What? Why me?���

“Just – do it. Please.”

Smellerbee grumbles something under his breath as he leaves.

You nurse your injured finger as it pulsates, face drawn in pain.

“You have a little something –” 

“Huh?” your gaze flickers between him and your finger, unsure of what he means. 

“Here,” his fingers graze your chin as he wipes off blood from your face – from the initial injury, when you tried to lick up the blood from your wound. 

Your face heats up as his touch lingers, skimming across your chin to your cheek. 

He’s utterly captivated, it seems. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

He snatches his hand away with a look of guilt, and you turn away. “Ah. Smellerbee.”

“...I’ll leave the bandages here.”

“Thanks.”

“.........Don’t mention it.”

He bandages your finger with deft movements. Neither of you speak a word, but nothing needs to be said. The tension between you is electric, and any onlooker can tell with a mere glance (especially after Smellerbee went and groaned about the two of you to Pipsqueak and Longshot).

After he bandages your finger, he gets up from his place at the fire. 

“You’re staying the night, right?” 

You nod.

“Smellerbee will show you to your tent.” your disappointment must be visible on your face, because he huffs a laugh. “I’m sorry I can’t. I have duties to attend to. But you’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

You nod. He seemed to have that speechless effect on you.

“Right then, uh, goodnight.” he smiles, appearing to hesitate for a moment before walking off. 

“You guys are gross.” Smellerbee mutters from beside you. 

“What?”

“Gross. Look at what you do to him. And don’t you give me that clueless look or I swear.”

Neither of you could sleep that night.

(but when you woke up there was a bright basket of fresh berries arranged with little flowers throughout it at the door of your tent. You can only wonder who sent it, and why there was a note reading “sorry about your finger, please let me make it up to you.”)

written by @atlaswav, published 3rd of March 2024

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla live action #avatar the last airbender live action #jet atla #atla jet #jet x reader #jet drabble #it wasn't supposed to be this long #sebastian amoruso #sebastian amoruso is so MMHMETJAFK #jet #☁��. writing

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Better Man - Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Better Man - Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Content : angst, fluff, friends to lovers, jealousy, sexual tension

Word Count : 2.4k

Summary : Anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

A/N : I’ve been reading/watching Bridgerton again, so I had to write for my lovely Anthony. As always, pls like and reblog if you enjoy! 

Anthony raised his glass to his lips as he watched the rest of the “eligible young ladies” at the ball circle him, grateful for your presence at his side. 

“My, my. It is almost as if you are a vulture's prey.” You tease, fixing a delicate button on the wrist of your perfectly crisp, white glove. 

Anthony snorts at your comment. “Please, my lady. Vultures are much more interesting than the ladies circling my person.” He pauses, looking down at you fiddling with your button. He reaches out gently, “If I may,” he mutters quietly, reaching out to fix the offender. An electric jolt passes through you, and you have to keep your eyes on your glove to resist the urge to pull away quickly. You did not wish him to know how you felt about him. 

“Thank you, my lord.” You respond, nodding your head politely and giving him a small smile. He regards you for a moment before bowing and offering you his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” 

“I suppose.” You say, taking on a teasing tone again. Anthony outright smiles at this, leading you to the ballroom floor. It always came easy to dance with you, Anthony realized. It was as if you both could read each other’s next movements perfectly. After all, you had been friends since you were wee babes, crawling through the Bridgertons’ lush garden. You regard him slightly before saying “Have you found a suitable wife yet, Anthony?”

Anthony’s dark eyes settle on yours, and he has to keep from swallowing thickly. Something about the way you settled all of your attention on him had always made him nervous, always making his heart beat a bit too fast. “No.” he says quietly. “None of them are suitable. This is not to be a love match, strictly business, but I cannot imagine any of the women here as my life partner.” He looks down at you again, unable to read the look on your face for the first time in what felt like quite a while. 

“Well.” You say. “On my front I do not have any prospects. No one seems to wish to marry me.” 

“Why would that be?” Anthony questions, too quickly, he thinks. 

“It may have something to do with the fact that we seem to be attached at the hip at every ball we happen to grace with our presence.”

We. Anthony wants to shiver at that word, thinking about you being attached to him was too good to be true. You were much too good for a rake such as himself. His eyebrows knit together and he tilts his head slightly. “Should I leave you here amongst all these people on the ballroom floor?” Now he took on a teasing tone, secretly satisfied that he can pull an eyeroll or annoyed look from your otherwise prim and proper stature. 

You do roll your eyes, shaking your head at him slightly. “You leave me on this dancefloor by myself and I have no doubts even the most boring high society lady here would turn their nose up at you.” You pretend to sniff, as if your feelings were hurt. “And to think, I was under the impression you were my dearest friend.” 

Anthony dips you slightly as the song draws to a close. The vanilla perfume wafting from your exposed neck and up to him. It’s intoxicating to him and he rights the two of you quickly, clearing his throat as he steps back. “I thank you rather kindly for the dance, my lady.” You nod to him, watching as he walks away with a broad step. 

You furrow your brows, wondering why his attitude had changed suddenly, when you are approached by Lord Nikolai Andros, who asks you for a dance. You smile at him graciously, pleasantly surprised that he had approached you, and you would be able to dance with someone other than Anthony for once. 

Dancing with Anthony just made your feelings all the stronger, and you did not know how much longer you could endure being his dearest friend. You curtsy to Lord Andros, following gracefully as he spins you across the ballroom. You wondered idly why he so suddenly expressed an interest to dance with you, but it was exciting to dance with someone else. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if your dance card was to be filled by Anthony Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton alone. 

From across the ballroom, Anthony had his hands clenched at his sides, watching Andros spin you across the ballroom. You were much too good for Andros, and if he was a rake, Andros was a bigger one, known for not being particularly faithful to his late wife. 

Benedict slides up next to Anthony, following his gaze. “I say, is that Andros?” 

“Yes.” Anthony replies, voice clipped and tight. 

“Hm.” Benedict huffs, “She seems to be rather enjoying herself, wouldn’t you say, brother?” 

“It would appear so, yes, Benedict.” Anthony replies, trying to keep his voice from sounding too strained. 

Benedict smirked. “Yourself, however..” clamping his mouth shut with an innocent shrug when Anthony gives him a look suggesting he could kill. However, Benedict continues on, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You love her.” 

Anthony opens his mouth, then closes it again, his perfect jaw set in anger, denial, or perhaps both. He shakes his head at Benedict, as if to say not here. He knows he has to be a better man for you, but the thought is too painful to bear at the moment, while you spin across the floor in another man’s arms. 

Benedict raises his hands slightly as he backs away from his brother, nodding his head in your direction again, where you were curtsying to Andros. Anthony feels heat rise in his chest as Andros maintains eye contact with you, and before he can comprehend what he’s doing, he strides back over to you. 

“My lady, would you like to promenade with some of the other young men and women in the garden? They have taken to admiring the rose bushes.” Anthony doesn’t wait for an answer before he gently grasps your elbow and steers you towards the open doors to the garden. Both of you pretend not to feel the butterflies that appear when the two of you touch. 

“Anthony, whatever are you doing?” You half whisper. “You did not even acknowledge Lord Andros.” 

Anthony leans in and whispers, almost harsh with you. “You cannot court that man.” 

You stop walking, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “I do not believe you are the authority on that matter, Lord Bridgerton.” 

“Do not use my title because you are vexed at me, little bird.” Anthony says, his childhood nickname for you slipping from his lips effortlessly. You narrow your eyes at him, and he knows that this is you demanding an explanation. He licks his lips and glances around at the other ball guests milling about. None of them seem any the wiser of the tiff the two of you were beginning to have. 

“I will stand here for as long as I possibly can. This overprotective nature is not unlike you, but you have never outright sought me out to tell me to not court a gentleman.” 

Anthony sighs, starting to become frustrated. “He..is of the rakish variety.”

You snort. 

Anthony’s perplexed eyes meet yours and you shrug. “And you are not, Anthony?” 

“He is worse. He had many a mistress while his wife was ill in their marriage bed.” 

You grimace and Anthony nods almost smugly. “See. You are much too good for a man like that.” 

“If I am much too good, why am I yet to be wed?”

“I…” Anthony starts, faltering over his words. He had no answer. 

You step closer to him, your voice low. “I will tell you the reason. It is because of you.” 

Anthony swallows, looking down at you. You are much closer to him than he usually allowed himself to be, and your intoxicating scent and god, the way the light in your eyes trapped him made him more than nervous. “Me?” he questions. 

“Yes, Anthony. You. Every person in the ton believes me to belong to you. They pity me. Oh poor girl,” You start to mock, affecting your tone “that Lord Bridgerton is just stringing her along.” Your nostrils flare. “However, here you are, deciding to marry, using me as a pawn to get these most delightful young ladies to leave you alone.” You feel tears starting to sting your eyes, the hurt of not being the object of Anthony’s affections threatening to spill over. “I am not willing to be your pawn any longer, Anthony.” 

Anthony watches your face, devastated as he realizes that you feel the same longing for him as he feels for you. “Little bird, I-”

You hold up a hand. “No. I do not wish to hear what you have to say to me any longer. It is time I retire, anyhow. Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton.” You say, turning on your heel quickly, just as hot tears begin to flow down your cheeks. Rushing out to your carriage, you ignore your mother, choosing to spend the ride home in heartbreaking silence. Your mother says nothing, just clasps your hand gently, which makes you cry all the more. 

The next morning, Anthony is pacing in his study, wondering if he should call on you. Would you even want to see him? Should he just leave you be? Would it be better to give up everything the two of you shared so he did not cause you such pain again? 

Before Anthony can make up his mind, you walk through the door to his study. His back is turned to you, and you can hear him audibly sigh. 

“Benedict, I truly do not have the mind to-” He stops as he turns around, mouth dry. There you stood, a beautiful pale purple dress accentuating the very air of loveliness that seemed to follow you wherever you went. 

“Hello, Anthony.” You say quietly, watching as he fumbles, setting his bourbon glass down shakily and coming around the front of his desk. 

“You have given up calling me Lord Bridgerton, then?” He asks, his voice sounding strangely strained. 

“Yes. I apologize for being cross with you yesterday evening. I just..” You pause, and Anthony takes this as his opportunity to come toward you. He comes close, looking down at you with his beautiful dark eyes. 

“What is it?” He asks, afraid of what your answer may be. He was expecting you to tell him that you never wished to see him again, and he would have to accept that and let go of you. He desperately prayed that you did not come to lock him out of your life forever. 

“I have fallen in love with you, Anthony. I know how you feel about love, because of your father. But I cannot sit by idly while you look for a wife that is not me. I am going to court Lord Andros, and you will have to accept that, because I cannot allow you to look over me, when all I have wanted for as long as I can remember is the reciprocation of my feelings from you.” 

Anthony stood there, shocked beyond belief. You did feel the same way about him. He was not making up the pained look you had on your face at the ball the previous night. He felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart, and he could hear his ears ringing. He did not know what to say. 

“I will take my leave from you.” You say, turning and making your way back to the large oak study door. 

Suddenly, Anthony snaps out of his stupor. “No!” He almost yells, quickly moving to place his hand on the door, barring you from opening it. This is the closest the two of you have been in quite a while. Your bodice touching his chest, his nose almost touching yours. You inhale sharply, gazing up at him. “Let me explain my wretched behavior darling, but please do not take your leave of me.” Anthony pleads, his voice dripping with desperation. Taken aback, you give him a tiny nod, still mesmerized by the proximity in which the two of you stood. 

Anthony glances at the door, then to your face, and then he gently brings his hands up to cradle your face. Your eyes widen, and his brows furrow. 

“I…”He bites his bottom lip, his eyes flicking to your lips before sighing. “I long for you. I long for your attention. I cannot sleep without thinking of you. I cannot read a book or discuss politics without thinking of what you may say or how you may react. I long for your company when I awake in the morning and long after I have gone to bed. My soul desperately aches for you as if you are a piece missing from it. Seeing you with Andros solidified this feeling for me even more. Watching another man take your hand in his…I could have sobbed at the sight of it. You haunt every part of my being and I cannot deny it any longer.” 

“Anthony…” You breathe out, eyes roaming his beautiful face. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you.” He says, bringing his face closer to yours each time he says it. “I am terrified of love, my little bird, but I love you so deeply that if you will have me, I will spend the rest of my days cherishing you.” He breathes out, as if he had been holding in a breath, and he leans his forehead against yours gently. 

You reach up, using a finger to smooth the furrow in his brow. “I love you most ardently, Anthony Bridgerton.”

Anthony is so relieved, he leans in and captures your lips in his without thinking clearly. Worried he may have made a mistake kissing you before you were to be wed, he tries to pull away. 

You grab his lapel and keep him close, smiling into his lips. 

“Marry me.” He breathes out, running a finger along your bottom lip after you’ve pulled back from him. 

“The answer has always been yes.” You whisper back, gazing at him lovingly. Anthony grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms. He cannot wait for you to be by his side for the years to come. He hums contentedly, hugging you as he should have done so very long ago.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #best friends to lovers #jealousy #longing #love confessions

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Really happy that requests are open again! I love what y'all do!

May I ask for a Azul, Malleus, Deuce, and Jamil finding out that the MC is secretly a princess/prince back in their own world? The MC wasn't hiding it, it's just they did not give off the air of a royal heir.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, in all honesty, is completely bamboozled as to what royalty would want to do with him. Surely you weren’t the naïve type of royal who thought the world was your oyster and would only offer up pearls? He, of all people, was not one that many would align themselves with willingly which made it more difficult to draw a conclusion on your relationship with him. In the end, it’s Azul once more avoiding his feelings and shushing the fears of you leaving him; now he can convince himself that you’re bound by royal duty and that you would never consider staying with him regardless of your relationship status.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce feels the need to apologize for every single time he’s spoken out of turn, and wonders if he should start referring to you as ‘your highness’ as a sign of respect. It does change the relationship between you because he doesn’t know the proper way to act, and it upsets you when he suddenly gets stiff and impersonal despite how close you are. You don’t want your royalty from another realm to change who you are to him and you say as such, with Deuce sheepishly admitting he still saw you as ‘you’ but he didn’t want to offend you by saying something too immature or foolish.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil couldn’t help but wonder if it was a way out. He’d never want to leave his family behind but the other half of him, the part that wants a life different than being a servant for an eternity, wondered if he could be with you. Or, since he was certainly not royal here or in your own world, you might designate him the same position in your life in hopes of remaining together. He doesn’t know which fate is better for his sanity but he tried not to think about it, preferring to think of you as you are before the big royal reveal unless you wanted to be treated otherwise.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus is quite curious on how a royal marriage across realms might work, knowing that such knowledge must be out there somewhere. He can’t say that he isn’t surprised by this turn of events however, wondering if royalty was a bit different in your homeworld. It at least opens up an entire new branch of conversations for you to have on your moonlit walks through the nearby ruins, Malleus full of curiosity for your families history as well as necessary customers (and perhaps even a question or two about proper courting rituals while he’s at it).

#Twisted Wonderland #Disney Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Disney TWST #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Deuce Spade x Reader #Deuce Spade #Jamil Viper x Reader #Jamil Viper #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

WOW I can't believe you opened them! I adore you! Please Tumblr lacks Krueger fanfic, can you write something NSFW enemies to lovers, where he and the reader joined Chimera at the same time and are at "war" with each other mainly because reader is an ass, she likes to annoys Krueger by constantly reminds him that she is younger (like four/five years, no more) than him and more skilled as a soldier and sniper making Krueger get on his nerves? Sorry for my wtriting, english is not my language and i'm not good at it, i hope i was clear enough and i also hope i formulated the right question without violating your requests. Thank you and good job at the flower shop!

—Ain't Giving Up My Pride

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

You have to wonder if you expected to be ass-up and face-down getting fucked in the back of a storage room today, and you have to admit, the answer is most likely a resounding negative. 

But war is always interesting.

Krueger and yourself had a little…thing…going on. Call it what you will—a rivalry, a large annoyance, whichever word better fits the state of twin crashing atoms constantly waiting to prove something to the other. To you, any real satisfaction can only be drawn by the way his shrouded head would look your way with obvious scorn—imagining a sneer to his lips as you walked past and smirked, loudly talking about your success at the firing range. 

About beating the top mark yet again. Krueger. 

“Interesting, hm?” He grunts to you now, belt jingling as you hide your burning face into your arm; pelvic bones getting repeatedly pushed into the crate. “Little winner, yes? Willing to bet she only feels good when she gets filled up by my cock.”

You open your mouth to speak, but his hands on your hips drive them backward and forward, skin smacking rapidly as your speech is reduced to garbled whines and loud moans. It was pathetic how fast he was already working you to that point—pussy spasming and legs kept open by Krueger’s hands. 

“Hm?” The man leans in close, his fully-geared chest stapling itself to your spine. “What was that?”

“F-fuck,” you blink quickly. 

He chuckles, covered face hidden from you. “That is what I—”

“Fuck better than you shoot,” you gasp, hips instinctually meeting his thrusts as your toes curl, pants at your feet, and a stain of fluids dripping down to them. The man falters, pace stuttering as you shove yourself back into him with a shiver down your vertebrae. 

His throat releases a low growl moments later, hand going to the back of your neck as you smirk. But any chuckle is lost as you’re pulled by the collar of your shirt backward, getting kept to Krueger’s front as the prodding ruthlessness of his member drives itself home again and again.

You gasp loudly, eyes snapping back and mouth releasing tight moans before a hand covers your lips, a low snarl in your scalp. 

“You always have such a mouth, Vögelchen,” he grunts, feeling the effect of your tight cunt himself as he draws closer to his finish—what you did to him was criminal; no one should make him act like this, like a heathen in the back rooms seeking a carnal release into your womb. “How do I fix this, then?” 

You pant from behind his hand, letting him play with you like a doll because, damn if this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. 

“Ah,” he replies to himself, that smooth voice right in your ear as he moves a hand down to play with your clit. You tense up, noises of pleasure heard from behind the tight press of his grip. “Yes, that’s it.” Your release snaps through you like a storm—not even a proper build-up before it shatters what little of your mind is left at this point. Not once did Krueger’s hips slow or stop, pushing you through it until you were whining like a dog, another round started just like that even as the man rides his own high, spilling into you.

The wet splatter of cum leaks to the floor as you’re back facing the crate, eyes rolling back into your head and body shaking with unchecked pleasure.  A shuddering growl is right in your ear, a heavy body rocking against your spine.

“I have to fuck it out of you.”

#rough smut #cod krueger #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x you #cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #call of duty x you #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod smut #call of duty smut #x reader smut #smut

[hyperactively-me]

OMG! please more of King Ghost🙏🏻🤤🥵

i gotchu babe.

Being the spare princess of the kingdom never really bothered you much. Really, it was your four older siblings that had much more responsibility than the rest of you. Seventh out of ten in line for the throne? No, you were never destined for the throne of your own kingdom. It’s why you were not all too surprised when your parents informed you that you would be wed to a man in a neighboring kingdom. Although, they never specified which one…

You have been prepared to wed nobility since you were a child. You were trained to act like the perfect, prim and proper princess. Countless hours of teaching you to be the “perfect wife” transformed you into the “perfect” wife, but that never meant you enjoyed a second of it. When you’re a child, you don’t really question everything your parents do. As you grew older, the more you held a certain disdain for the hours of the day dedicated to this training. Day after day, you would learn proper manners, how to sew, play the piano, paint and draw. You were taught the duties of a wife, to care for your husband, to bend to his every whim and wish, to depend on him, and only him. You hated it, loathed it, but it was what you had to do. You had no other choice.

Thankfully, your parents did not neglect your education, although they had some…select pieces of history taken out of your studies. The best tutors in the kingdom were called upon the palace to educate you and your siblings. When you were a child, you were too busy focusing on your teachings and playing to notice the tension in the air, or how you and your family remained unharmed while the kingdom’s village suffered from famine, war, and civil unrest. Your male tutors had deemed some portions of history to be “too violent, too descriptive” for a “young female noble” as yourself. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know about select parts of history when you were older. You didn’t even realize that you didn’t know all that you thought you did later on…

You knew that you were to be sold off for marriage when you were a teenager. To whom, well, that was a mystery. Until recently.

Ghost. King Ghost. Ruler of the Kingdom of Kastron, slayer of any who dares cross him. A skilled and ruthless killer. A machine on the battlefield, a stoic and cold leader.

. . .

“What do you mean?” you blurted out, incredulous.

“It’s been planned for some time now. You’re his betrothed, whether you like it or not, and that’s final.”

You ball your fists, resisting the urge to scream and cry. Instead, you turn your head up high, your brows furrowed in anger as you shoot a glare at your parents.

“I will never marry a killer.”

“You’ll be thankful, one day.” Your father adds, shuffling his papers that he was oh so focused on.

Anger grasped at your throat. You were breathing hard, couldn’t see straight. You felt you had no other choice than to run. So you did. You ran, down the endless hallways, down the stairs, and out into the gardens. Your heart was caught in your throat, a sob building up in your chest as you slowed to a stop. Crumpling into yourself, you grasp your arms, hugging yourself as you try not to sob loudly. It’s what you were born to do, after all. Be the blushing bride.

Oh, he can come, you thought. But you would do everything in your power to make him run and to never take you as his bride.

. . .

Today was the day King Ghost would arrive at your palace. You hoped he would be discouraged by your attitude, enough to see your blatant disgust and leave. You vowed to yourself to make his life more difficult, minute by minute, before he arrived.

Your maids had dressed you in one of your finest dresses, painted your face with makeup, and styled your hair in a flattering manner. You tug at the sleeve of your dress haphazardly, a frown etched on your face.

You didn’t want to see the bastard standing at your doorstep, high and mighty with the stupid helmet he always wore, according to the rumors you’ve heard.

But, alas, here he was. Standing in front of you. A hunk of pure iron armor. Surprisingly, his armor was simple. It wasn’t adorned with precious jewels or carvings. Just simple, smooth iron. A large silver sword was sheathed at his side, the handle a pure black obsidian adorned with a single diamond on the crest of the handle.

The air was thick with tension as you stared at the foreboding creature in front of you. For a moment, you couldn’t move. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you know his gaze was piercing right through you. Your heart beat fast in your chest as you moved into a bow at his feet, disgust rising in your throat.

When you stood, you forced yourself to lock eyes with where you think his eyes are. Your gaze is fierce, unwavering as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Your majesty,” you began. “What a delightful pleasure it is to meet you.”

Your words rang hollow, your interest in his presence glazed with venom.

He stands, stiff as ever, before bowing ever so slightly towards you.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says gruffly, taking in your appearance for a moment before turning his attention to your father. A shiver runs up your spine as the cold iron seems to fill the room with a certain degree of hostility.

“Come,” your father beckons towards Ghost, urging him to follow him down the palace hall. “We will begin dinner shortly.”

King Ghost does not bother to acknowledge you as he stands by your father. You turn around, rolling your eyes, beckoned by your mother to follow them. Lovely. Wonderful first impression.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #hyperactively me

[amalthiaph]

I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

#the bad batch #tbb s3 #tbb #star wars #amalthia cried while writing this

[aldbooks]

So, my friend @hlizr50 posted this lovely art during Gwynriel week and it inspired an idea that's been rolling around in my head until I finally spit it out in Word tonight. So, don't mind any typos or grammar, I did exactly zero editing 😅 Enjoy!

793 words

A distinctly masculine yelp called the entire training ring’s attention to the far end where Gwyn was…. Hanging from the Shadowsinger’s back… side? It was hard to tell from this angle. All Cassian knew for sure was Gwyn’s coppery head was much higher than it should be, and her feet were wrapped somewhere around Az’s middle, rather than on the ground. His brother stumbled at the sudden shift in weight, his wings flaring wide.

As Cassian watched, Az managed to pry one of Gwyn’s legs from around his torso but she quickly scrambled around his body, repositioning herself until she had somehow draped her body across the back of his neck, one of his arms grasped between hers, the other between her thighs.

“Son of a-” Az’s words cut off with a growl as he again attempted to free himself from her hold. He could hear Gwyn snarl at him to yield, which of course Azriel refused- as he should. He wasn’t defeated yet.

But cauldron, did they look ridiculous. 

Nesta and Emerie appeared at this side, wearing amused looks as they watched their friend make a proper fool out of the famed Spymaster. “What do you even call that hold?” Emerie asked with a snort as Azriel’s wings bent and stretched, trying to stabilize him while he worked to get free.

“I think it’s called a Nelson?” Cassion shrugged trying not to laugh as Gwyn “accidentally” kicked Az’s wing, drawing another strangled yelp from him. “But I’ve never seen it done like that…’ 

He finally loosed a grin as an idea came to him. Focusing his mind, he called out to Rhys, hoping his brother was paying attention wherever he was in the city. A moment later, a smooth voice spoke in his mind “Yes, Cassian?”

“You gotta see this.”

Rhys gave an intrigued hum. “Is that so?” There was a brush at his mind and Cassian opened a small window for his brother to see through his eyes. 

Just then. Az managed to find a ticklish spot behind Gwyn’s knee, loosening her hold with a squeal. Before he could pull her off of him completely, however, she scrambled around again, somehow hooking one leg around his back, one over his shoulder, ankles locked together, and both hands wrapped behind his neck.

This time the shift of weight unbalanced him entirely, sending him to his knees… Gwyn still hanging from his neck.

Cassian couldn’t help a chuckle then as a matching one sounded in his mind. He felt a pause on Rhys’ end before he felt another presence in his mind. “Oh my,” Feyre giggled. “How did she get up there?”

“I don’t know, I heard a shout and turned around to find her hanging off him. Everytime he manages to get an arm free, she moves and traps him again,” Cassian laughed. “We might want to consider ear plugs for the poor priestesses, Az’s been cursing up a storm the last couple minutes.”

Az wedged a hand beneath the thigh wrapped over his shoulder- dangerously high- and Nesta whistled. “You usually have to pay to get that handsy, Shadowsinger. Watch it!”

The hand quickly disappeared with a frustrated growl, and Gwyn, the cheek, laughed merrily at his predicament. From the corner of his eye, Cassian caught sight of Mor and Amren perched on lounge chairs, watching the show. How and when they had gotten here, he wasn’t sure. But they were turning his training ring into theater and he should probably say something, but he was too entertained by the spectacle.

After a few more moments of struggling - each attempt at tickling Gwyn now resulted in her thrashing about and shrieking, battering Az’s poor wings even further, even as she clung to him like a magnet- until finally, Az’s wings drooped with a sigh. 

“Do you yield?” Gwyn asked cautiously, still holding tight. There was a mumble and then- “What was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

“Yes, I yield. Gods damn it.”

Immediately, Gwyn dropped to the ground, rolling numbly from underneath him and springing to her feet with a triumphant crow. Nesta and Emerie burst out laughing while the other priestesses rushed over to congratulate Gwyn on besting the Symaster. Mor, who apparently wanted more of a show, booed loudly and tossed popcorn in Az’s direction, which Cassian had no idea how she’d gotten.

“Is he- blushing?” Feyre asked.

Sure enough, Az had slunk off to the side of the ring, his cheeks pink as he gingerly rubbed his shoulder. His shadows, which had been dancing around him and Gwyn throughout the entire bout, not interfering, now twirled in the air behind him. If he didn’t know better, Cass would think they were laughing. “Yes, Darling, I think he is.”

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #gwyn and azriel

[kissforyouu]

Can you write a drabble of oc surprising jk with a new tattoo. I’d picture she’d get something cute like a peach or a bunny idkkk but she’d definitely have something small and dainty. She’d probably put it somewhere where only Jk could see too🤭

oc is not that much into tattoos, but she'd sometimes use temporary tattoos on herself and show jk. he'd just keep asking her over and over "when are you getting a real oneeee". he completely doesn't mind tattoos on oc at all, considering how tatted up he is too. but when oc actually does get a tattoo...

"jungkook!" you shout from across his living room, excitedly skipping your way through. he yells back from his room, surprised that you came over. you didn't even tell him beforehand. your boyfriend exits his room to have you jump on his body right after, hugging the man like the world was going to end right now.

you hug him really tight, swaying him from side to side. "hi, baby!" your voice was high pitched as you placed kisses all over your boyfriend's cheek. he loved whenever you acted like this. kisses were his favourite. jungkook liked to get pampered by you a lot. even though he'll probably never admit to it.

"hi, sweetheart." his smile was big and bright, probably even starting to hurt his face at this point. you let go of his body, finally freeing him.

"i got tatted." bombshell.

"like, tatted for real? not temporary?"

"nope! actual tattoo, look."

jungkook was surprised. you swore to yourself to never actually get a proper tattoo because you were afraid that later you might regret it. but you actually did it? okay, where is it? what type of tattoo? jungkook was thrilled.

but the moment you bent over and to strip down, jungkook's draw fully drops. shit. you had a sly smirk on your face, fully aware of what you were doing as you discarded your pants. there revealed your black lace panties.

"here." you turn around your upper body to point at the small (very small) red heart tattoo on your ass cheek. it was right below your waist near your hips. cute, he thought. very small though, very. but jungkook wasn't surprised at how small it was. the little tattoo complimented your ass well, and your whole personality itself. it suits you. but it wasn't the tattoo that had him mermerised, it was definitely your ass. lol.

ever since then, man's been obsessed with doggy style just to see your dainty tattoo bounce on his cock over and over again. he makes sure kiss it every time whenever you guys had sex. the obsession was real.

in addition to that little tattoo was another dainty heart but this time on the side of your middle finger and some other sparkles. and not necessarily a tattoo, but a belly piercing you got when you were around 16 and (totally legal!) a bunch of other piercings in your ears.

taglist : @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts jk #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts #smut #ask : kmm

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | v.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Peering outside the window, you unleash a melancholy sigh. The sky is bright and blue above campus, not one cloud darkening its expanse. 

A stark contrast to your somber mood. 

You wish you could soak up the warmth of the sun spilling through the glass window of the café, but you’re too high-strung to bask in the sunny weather. 

"Here you go," Ethan enthuses, yanking you away from your lugubrious train of thought. 

You give him a wobbly smile, accepting the steamy cup he slides between your hands. In the process, your fingers brush against his own, and Ethan’s throat bobs. His gaze lingers where your hand touches his for a few seconds before he scratches the back of his neck and sits in front of you.  The spicy, warm scent of the drink engulfs your senses in a blanket of comfort and familiarity. Your lashes flutter in awe as your eyes round.

"H-How did you know my coffee order?" 

He shrugs, a lopsided smile canting his lips. 

"I think Mindy mentioned it." 

"Did she?" 

His smile broadens. "I think. How else would I know it?" 

You press your lips together. You suppose it does make sense. Still, it astonishes you the heap of little things Ethan has noticed about you since you met him. 

Acceptance settles within you beneath his unflinching gaze. 

"You're right." You nod then spot the little plate Ethan placed near the edge of the table. Your mouth waters at the sight, your stomach wrenching. When’s the last time you had a proper meal, or something sweet? "Oh, you got me a pastry too." Fingers stretch towards the appetizing treat but retreat as Alana’s voice rings in your head. Sending Ethan a contrite glance, you twist your hands in your lap. "I'm sorry. That's very nice but… I can't accept it."

Ethan’s bushy brows draw together. 

"You don't like sweets? I didn't realize." 

You wave your hands before you as you rush to elaborate, "I do. It's not that." A deep exhale drops from your mouth. "Alana…the captain of my team. She said we all needed to lose five pounds before the next game. So no one on the team is allowed to have carbs."

Your cheeks come aflame under his intense stare. The anger in his tone startles you. 

"That's mean. Who does Alana think she is?" he scoffs. His tone softens as he adds, "Besides, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. You don't need to change a single thing about yourself."

A spontaneous smile blooms on your face at his compliment and the sincerity laced in his words. 

"Thanks, Ethan. That's so sweet." His chestnut gaze beckons you, drifting from your face to the pastry. You nibble your bottom lip, stomach clenching. Alana would be pissed if she knew…but you’re also starving. You don’t ponder for long before reaching across the table for the sweet delicacy. "I guess I'll have it anyway. Just promise me you won't tell her."

"My lips are sealed."

Ethan patiently watches you take a few bites, a grin etched on his boyish features. As soon as the sugar melts on your tongue, your spirits are lifted. 

When you’re done eating, he pulls out books, paper and pens from his backpack. 

You remember why you’re here and straighten your back. 

"So, where do you want to begin?" he inquires, unscrewing the cap from his ballpen and beginning to scribble on a piece of paper. 

You fidget and cast your eyes downward. 

"I'm not sure," you mumble. 

"What do you struggle with most?" 

Embarrassment tickles your insides. 

"Uh…Everything?" He gawks at you and your face heats. "This class is way too hard for me, Ethan."

He shakes his head, that gentle, encouraging smile never leaving his lips. 

"You're selling yourself short." At your crestfallen expression, Ethan offers, "We'll start at the very beginning and work our way from here. How does that sound?" 

You gape at him, your chest swelling with hope. For some reason, you nearly expected him to give up on you right here and there. 

You know you’re not exceedingly bright and that you narrowly got into college. If it weren’t for Chad and Mindy helping you study for the SATs and giving you tips…you’re convinced you wouldn’t have made it at all. 

"Amazing," you chime, plucking a chest-deep chuckle from him. 

Hours fly by at the café as Ethan takes time to break down concepts, make you flash cards and draw figures to help you understand the basics of economics. 

You lose track of time, hanging to his every slow, patient word. Every time you ask a question, he never gets upset or belittles you, instead going over everything again without ever losing his cool. 

While some areas are still fuzzy at the end, you feel a lot more equipped to understand the course material than before. 

Ethan encourages you, promising the more sessions you’ll have together, the more things will make sense. 

And you actually believe him. 

"You're like the best tutor ever." 

You bounce in excitement as Ethan giggles.

"I didn't do much."

"Not true. You make complicated stuff sound easy, Ethan."

His cheeks glow pink at your praise. 

Leaning forward, you confess, "Even Mindy gave up on helping me with my assignments. She didn’t have the time…or patience. And she’s my best friend." Slanting your head sideways, you beam at him. "You're the smartest guy I know so I appreciate you taking the time."

Ethan ogles at you before clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. "Anytime," he says while putting his books back in his bag.

"Can I keep this?" you inquire, gathering the stack of papers covered in Ethan’s neat handwriting. You’re touched that he took the time to explain all this to you. 

"Of course, it’s all for you. If you need anything, just text or call me." His inflection lowers as he bashfully looks down. "Even nighttime is fine."

His words summon flashes of the night before. Overwhelmed, tears begin pricking behind your eyes. 

"Nighttime…" you quaver. You blink and salty water fills your gaze. Ethan immediately gets up and joins you on the other side of the table, handing you tissues and carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. Once again, you wipe your tears. You wonder how there’s still water left in your body considering how many times you’ve bawled your eyes out today. 

"I’m sorry," you blubber.

"It’s okay." He rubs your back, licking his lips before he whispers, "You don’t need to shed so many tears over him, you know?"

A shuddering breath cascades through your throat while you gape at him in confusion. 

"What?"

His jaw clenches, his gaze darkening somehow. 

"That alpha douchebro Connor. He doesn’t deserve you crying over him."

"It’s not…" you trail off, shame creeping inside you. You have no desire to revisit the events from last night. Every time you recall them, a wave of sickness takes hold of you. 

Ethan continues, his voice even harsher than before, "Truth be told I bet he had it coming." Your jaw drops. Ethan’s shoulders heave and slump as he explains, "I heard he was awful to girls… and that you weren’t the only one he was texting before he died."

Shock ripples through you at this newfound knowledge. It’s dumb and irrelevant now, but you thought Connor genuinely liked you at least. 

Sure, he got carried away that night and got a little pushy, but you’re sure he just had one drink too many and wasn’t acting like himself. 

Your forehead wrinkles as you chide him, "That’s an awful thing to say. Regardless of what he did…no one deserves to die like that, Ethan."

Ethan sighs and lets out an awkward laugh. 

"You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. Murder’s like…fucked up, I guess."

"Y-Yes, it is," you reply, taken aback by his casual tone. 

Gaze still holding yours, he bends over you and adds, "But he was a lame dudebro, and you can do so much better. I hope you know that."

You sink in the depth of his warm, brown orbs, both flattered yet a little unsettled by his fervent statement. 

It’s something even Mindy told you before, that you only fall for douchebags that don’t deserve you, but you never felt that was true. 

Still, no one ever said that to you with such emphasis. 

"I…appreciate it," you reply, rubbing your puffy eyes as fresh tears threaten to spill.  

His large hand travels up and down your back. 

"Is there something else by any chance? I’m a pretty good listener."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. There’s no way you can tell him what occurred. The mere idea makes you want to die. 

Your mouth trembles as you dip your chin.

"No, there isn’t."

After a few minutes of silence, Ethan’s gentle voice sweeps over your temple. 

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" 

Your eyes lift to his, deep brown pools filled with concern. 

You mull it over. There is one thing. A thing you sometimes do with your friends, but you’re a bit self-conscious about revealing it to him. 

"I…" You emit a thin, unsure laugh. "No, that's silly. You're gonna think I'm, like, so shallow."

His thumb settles between your shoulder blades, caressing softly. 

"I won't judge you, I promise. Just tell me."

"When I feel bad…" You squirm and evade his focus, gaze darting about the café as you mumble, "I like to go shopping and eat ice cream afterward."

Ethan snickers, but not in a mean way. Mirth lights up his features. 

"I don't think that's silly at all, especially if it helps you feel better." His face softens. "I can take you if you want."

"Really?" Surprise and happiness coalesce in your tone. You hate shopping alone. Your brows knit as a thought resurfaces. "But I promised Mindy and Anika we’ll meet up later..."

Ethan sends you a wide grin. 

"I’m sure they’ll understand."

Going on a shopping spree with Ethan is surprisingly fun. He doesn’t mind how many outfits you try, praising your choices every time. 

And if sometimes his eyes rest upon you a tad too long, that strange smirk playing on his lips, you let yourself ignore that. 

After all, a lot of the clothes you picked display quite a lot of skin. 

Boys always stare, you’re used to that. 

And it’s just Ethan looking. It’s not like he’s getting any ideas. 

When it comes time to pay for your purchases, he stops you before you can collect your wallet, placing a stack of bills on the counter instead. 

You give him an open-mouthed stare. 

"Ethan?! Are you crazy? That’s a lot of money. You don’t have to-"

He grabs the clothes from you and gestures at the cashier to put them in bags before you can even think of returning them. 

"No way I’m letting you pay. My treat, okay?"

"Ethan…"

His tone gets firmer, quieting your protests. 

"I insist."

Your body deflates as you’re stunned by the shift in him, particularly his staunch refusal to let you argue. 

"Okay," you concede. 

After leaving the store, with Ethan carrying your bags and refusing to let you lift a finger, you get on your tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek. 

Red spreads on his face as he peers down at you. 

"You’re so nice to me," you say cheerfully.

He just smiles at you in that lopsided, mysterious way he does. 

"Well, I'd say you more than earned it."

~

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #dark!ethan landry #ethan landry x bimbo!reader #scream vi fanfic #ethan landry x you #scream vi #scream #scream 6