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perlelune · 10 months

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Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vi.

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

"You know you shouldn’t lead him on like that," Mindy muses from your bed, her eyes not lifting from the Stephen King novel she’s engrossed in.

You place your phone above the vanity drawer after hanging up. You just decided on another study meetup with Ethan.

It’s been a few weeks since he began tutoring you. There’s been a sharp improvement in your grades and you’re starting to believe that maybe you’ll be able to graduate just like the rest of your friends.

Before, all those things felt as unreachable as the stars in the sky. But Ethan, with his kindness and unlimited supply of patience, made it a reality.

Sure, you won’t be a top student anytime soon, but at least now there’s hope of you not failing the course and falling behind.

"What? I’m not leading him on. Ethan and I are just friends," you defend, puckering your lips as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup before the big game. Your gaze keeps bouncing to the clock. The playoffs begin in a little less than an hour.

Tensions are high tonight. This is no regular game as whichever team wins will go on to compete in the national championship.

It’s one of the reasons Chad and most of the guys on the team have been in a weird mood all week.

Besides, honor’s at stake when a team plays on their own turf.

The pressure’s been off the charts for the cheer squad too, Alana having run the team into the ground to perform well today and not miss a single step.

Despite how exhausted you are, you’re almost thankful for that. Focusing on cheerleading has helped you file away that god awful night.

The humiliation you experienced still burns a hole inside you whenever you remember it.

While you can’t quite shake the lingering sensation of being watched, you can at least try to reclaim a semblance of normalcy.

Hopefully Ghostface had his fill of tormenting you and won’t do anything like that ever again.

Mindy arches her brow and scoffs, "It’s pretty obvious he’s got some desperate puppy crush on you." Under her breath, she mumbles, "...And I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not Ghostface."

You pause, the tip of your lipstick almost snapping as you press it tight against your mouth. You unleash a heavy sigh and whirl to her, brows drawing together.

"Mindy, please. Not that again," you plead.

It's not the first time your best friend has shared her doubts regarding Ethan and you wager it won't be the last.

Every time she catches you texting him or hanging out, disapproval paints her features. She also squints and gestures at him that she’s watching him whenever she crosses paths with him.

It saddens you that she can’t get along with him and won’t relent regarding her suspicions.

Ethan’s helped you so much. It’s unfair that your best friend keeps claiming he’s a murderer without any evidence to back it up.

And outside of tutoring, he’s been a great friend to you, always here to wipe your tears and listen to you talk about anything, however trivial. Every time you ramble on about cartoons, your collection of stuffed animals and how you’d love to get more, clothes or anything really…Ethan wears that same fond smile on his face.

Outside of Chad, you never had a guy best friend. Unfortunately since getting into college, you haven’t seen much of him since he’s so well liked and has developed such a large circle of friends.

So Ethan’s a breath of fresh air.

You relish the ability to talk without fear of judgment or being belittled for the things you pluck joy from or how forgetful and absentminded you can be sometimes.

Ethan has not made fun of you once for misremembering a word or your tendency to get lost around campus. Instead, he escorted you to class and promised to be with you more often so it doesn’t happen. He also agreed with you that it’s not your fault because every building looks the same, which everyone in your friend group laughed at you for mentioning before.

Mindy leaps from the bed, exclaiming, "Come on, Ethan? Shy, dorky guy who no one suspects because he’s so shy and dorky." She lets out a humorless laugh. "Maybe he went all 'if I can’t have you, no one can' and decided to get rid of the competition…permanently."

Your eyes roll as she concludes her theory with a repeated stabbing motion towards her throat.

"You’re ridiculous." You get back to gauging your reflection. As you adjust the pink bow in your hair, you add, "Ethan’s cool. And I can actually understand some of the stuff Professor Atkins says in class now thanks to him."

In the mirror, you watch a sullen Mindy fold her arms behind you.

"I still don’t trust him." She flicks her hands skyward and exhales in defeat. "But I can’t tell you who to hang out with."

You step away from the vanity to make your way to your pouting best friend. She accepts your hug, a deep scowl still etched on her face.

"Let’s just drop it, okay?" you offer. "I hate arguing with you."

Mindy sighs against your shoulder.

"I’m just trying to keep you safe."

Leaning back, you squeeze her shoulders and smile.

"I know, and I love you for it…but you gotta ease off him, Min." She groans at that, tossing herself back onto your bed with her arms spread. As she glowers at the ceiling, you maintain, "Ethan’s been an amazing friend to me."

More curses are grumbled under her breath. Shoulders slumping, you elect to give it a rest and stop trying to convince her.

You know how stubborn Mindy can be. There will be no changing her mind tonight, or anytime soon.

Casting the upsetting topic aside, you hop to the center of the room and spin in your cheerleader outfit.

"How do I look?"

"Like a fembot specifically designed to appeal to the male gaze," Mindy deadpans.

You angle your head sideways. "Is that a good thing or bad thing?"

She chuckles and smiles at you before elaborating, "You look smoking hot, babe." The befuddled frown on your face vanishes, an elated grin supplanting it. Mindy returns to her reading and gives you a thumbs-up. "Break a leg."

Grimacing, you grab your pom-poms from underneath your bed and head for the door.

"Hopefully not or Alana will kill me."

You’re on your way to meet up with your squad when you stumble upon Ethan in the hallway. As usual, he’s dressed simply in a blue button-up and dark slacks, damp locks of his curly mane kissing his forehead.

He greets you in that bashful way he does while you beam at him, shaking your pom-poms.

You jog in his direction with a bounce in each step.

"Ethan, hey!"

His gaze widens as it roams over you, pink dusting his cheeks.

"Wow, you look…"

Placing a hand on your hip while the other lifts your pom-pom above your head, you adopt a cheerful pose.

"Cute?" you suggest.

Ethan’s throat ripples as he gapes at you.

For a while, he only does that, stare at you open-mouthed.

His face then turns an even brighter shade than before as he dips his head down momentarily.

"Y-Yeah. Something like that," he stammers.

His reaction drags an amused chortle out of you. You surmise it’s the first time you’ve addressed him in your full cheerleader getup and he must be somewhat taken aback.

"I didn’t know you liked sports," you observe.

He shrugs.

"Not particularly but everyone is going and Chad’s my roommate." He points at the camera hanging from his neck. "I also kind of got roped into taking pictures for the school paper."

Some of the other cheerleaders wave at you as they’re running out to the field. The impatient clamor of the crowd already swells from the bleachers, loud enough to be heard even from the corridor.

One of the girls from the squad, Lisa, stops as she catches sight of you and Ethan. A quiet conversation flows between the two of you, an inquiry swaying in her hopeful blue orbs.

You give her an imperceptible nod and she smiles at you, quickly averting her gaze and striding away when Ethan glances from her to you with a look of utter confusion on his face.

"What the hell was that about?" he asks, thick brows drawing together.

"About that…It’s good that I ran into you because there's something I meant to tell you, hm, more like ask you."

He inches closer, his eyes on you wide and alert.

"Ask me what?"

A sliver of hesitation zips through you but you remember the promise you made just a few hours ago at cheer practice.

You can’t back down.

You swallow a lungful of nerve and reveal, "So…one of the girls in my squad sort of has a massive crush on you."

"Oh," he exhales, his shoulders sagging. His smile fades, understanding seeming to dawn on him. "You mean that girl I just saw?"

You nod and explain, "Her name’s Lisa." He considers you blankly. You wave your hands in front of yourself. Words rush out of your mouth in an apprehensive string. "I know. I know. Trying to set up your friends is so cringe but she noticed you since the beginning of the year. The thing is she’s shy and doesn't know how to approach you. I promised her to ask you if you’d be interested in hanging out sometime." You twiddle your thumbs and mumble, "She’s super pretty and so nice, and she’s even into that same board game you told me about the other day…" You trail off, forehead creasing as you try to remember the name.

Ethan tonelessly corrects you when you misspell the name of the game.

You perk up and giggle, "Right. She just told me. I don't know how I forgot."

Ethan studies you long enough that it becomes unnerving and you start fidgeting under his sizzling focus.

You grow nervous, wondering what he’s thinking. Usually, you wouldn’t meddle with anyone’s love life. But Ethan’s done so much for you. If possible, you want to do something for him too.

You just don’t know what you could do to thank him.

Setting him up with someone from your squad seemed like a good idea, especially since you’re pretty sure Ethan’s single. You haven’t seen him hang around any other girl besides you.

A heavy sigh drops from Ethan’s chest as his lips lift into a small half-smile.

"The thing is, I already like someone," he confesses, patting his camera.

Your eyes bulge as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

"You do? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize." You blink up at him in curiosity. "Who is she? Does she know?"

He chuckles. "She doesn’t know anything."

You approach him and squeeze his arm encouragingly.

"Well you’re awesome so if she can’t see what’s right in front of her, you’re allowed to move on."

Ethan lets out another wry laugh.

"If only it were that simple."

Your brows knit. "What do you mean?"

He runs his hand through his thick curls and exhales a long, weary breath.

"She’s all I can think about. Literally." He pauses, his gaze corralling yours. "Every hour of every day, I think about her."

"Wow, that’s intense." You rub his forearm and send a sympathetic smile. "Sounds like it’s more than just a crush. Sounds like you’re in love with her."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Silly me, huh?"

"Don’t say that. I’m sure things will work out in the end. You deserve to be happy, Ethan."

His attention on you sharpens before a slow smile unfurls on his lips.

"You know what? I think I do."

"Of course you do."

Your answer makes him smile wider.

The moment is shattered when one of the players wedges himself between you and Ethan and steals an ephemeral, chaste kiss from you.

The buff brunette quarterback flashes you a pearly grin.

"A kiss for good luck?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh, sure," you reply shyly, butterflies swarming your belly.

He smiles at you one last time before jogging towards the stadium.

"Who’s this guy?"

You blink, Ethan’s deep, blunt voice startling you.

Pivoting back to him, you explain, "Oh. Tyler and I met at the boba shop the other day. It’s too early for anything serious but he’s cute and has been super nice to me."

It’s been pleasant to bask in some sense of normalcy again after what happened last month. You craved it. Tyler’s easygoing, fun to be around and he’s never pressured you to do anything once.

Ethan’s jaw clenches as he scoffs, "Do you just go for every guy who buys you candy or gives you some half-assed compliment?"

Your mouth hangs open in shock. "Ethan? What do you mean?"

He scrutinizes you for a few seconds before sighing and moving to walk away.

"Nothing. Don’t worry about it."

The hand you wrap around his wrist stops him, Ethan halting in his tracks. You tug him back with a contrite pout, your concerned gaze rising to meet his.

"I am going to worry about it. Ethan… Did I say something upsetting? I feel like maybe I did. I'm sorry about Lisa. I thought she'd be your type. She's everyone's type."

"Well, she isn't mine," he replies icily.

Budding tears tickle the back of your eyes but you repress them. It’s not the time to weep. The game’s about to start.

So you swallow them with ease, deciding you’ll give Ethan a proper apology later on.

Instead you give a sunny smile and ask, "Are you coming to hang out with everyone after the game? We all decided to meet up for chili fries and beers whatever the outcome is."

Ethan’s eyes fall on your hand wrapped around his wrist. He shifts your grip so your small hand rests in his larger one. He studies your twined hands, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours.

When he looks at you again, a glint dances in his chestnut orbs.

"Thanks but I’m gonna be busy actually." He flashes you a broad grin. "I just remembered I have some trash I need to take out."

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

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bloompompom · 1 year

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Playthings

One Shot

Pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader

Summary: okay, maybe you could admit you were a little sexually frustrated after a long semester, but it wasn’t your fault that you accidentally walked into the wrong room. and you’d only take some of the blame after you shamelessly came crawling back for more.

Word Count: ~6.8k

Content: explicit sexual content, explicit language, caught masturbating, casual sex, rough sex, dirty talk, porn watching, face fucking, some degradation and objectification, praise kink, quiet sex, panties as a gag, mentions of spit

all that to say, reader discretion advised. this is just a porno. if you were looking for plot, we don’t know her here

It started out normal, just like you had anticipated. Why wouldn’t it be normal? After all, it was just a regular, old Tuesday afternoon. The only thing that made it any more remarkable was that you didn’t have class today. Your professor was gracious enough—in her words, not yours—to cancel today’s session.

Her email included a not-so-gentle reminder, in bold lettering, that your presentations were due on Thursday. She hoped you’d all be smart enough to use this ‘found time’ to make any last-minute adjustments.

You would have much preferred to be dumb, at least by her standards, and squeeze in a nap, just like the rest of your classmates. But, no. You had to use this time to scramble to the finish line because just maybe you thought you had another week before it was due.

You weren’t entirely at fault, though. You were absolutely swamped with school with the end of the semester drawing near. It wasn’t just you, either. The other members of your group—four of you in total—were scraping the bottom of their reserves to try and finish this presentation. You all had other classes that called for more of your limited time and energy—you know, ones that actually pertained to your majors, none of which had anything to do with literature.

Who would have guessed that an introduction—extra emphasis on that word—to fiction class could be so much work? So much for your supposedly guaranteed easy A. It was a general elective, damn it! It served no other purpose than to tick that little box next to your degree requirement. Yes, I have three literature credits, and I read the books to prove it.

Well, half-read. Skimming, to put it nicely. Sorry, Wuthering Heights, for the bastardized synopsis that you were about to present.

All of which was to say, that was how you found yourself here, huddled together on this Tuesday afternoon, noses buried deep into your respective laptops, as you tried to put together a halfway decent presentation.

It was a warm day. You could tell even from inside. It was the kind of day where the sun clung to your body like a sheet, begging you to stay just a little longer to enjoy the afterglow. You wanted to listen, but you were forced to take turns lounging in front of the fan, stuttering as it only pretended to cool the room.

Your patience grew thinner by the minute, with every cramp and crack of your fingers and bead of sweat that threatened to drip down your back.

This semester, though almost over, was starting to feel like one of those classic scenes you’d find in horror movies. You know the scene: when the protagonist gets trapped in a closet-sized room that slowly fills with water. It was sort of like that, in which this dumb literature class had you gasping for your final breaths of air. And to top it all off, you had another group book report due. How old were you again?

“Sasha!”

You heard Jean hiss just across from you, interrupting the furious sound of clicking keyboards. You turned to look at him, past the coffee table that was decorated with empty energy drink cans and loose chips.

Sasha poked her head up from her laptop, looking innocent as Jean continued, “All your slides say, ‘Weathering Heights.’ Did you even read the book?”

“No, I didn’t! You know that!” she defended, sounding only slightly panicked.

You could see her edits as she made them, your eyes following across the screen. She corrected her slides to ‘Wuthered Heights,’ and you swore you could see the steam pouring from Jean’s ears. The only thing Sasha knew about any of your assigned readings was what she could find on Wikipedia—maybe less than that.

To your other side, Armin let out a lengthy sigh. “Let’s leave the editing to those that read the book. Okay, Sasha?” She looked defeated, even when he kept his voice soft, so he chipped in again. “Maybe you can… get us more snacks?”

That seemed to cheer her up enough. She offered him a salute and an, “On it, boss,” as she skittered off to the kitchen.

You had been sitting on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, for the last two hours, and your legs were starting to feel every minute of it. You extended them, one at a time, and listened to the embarrassingly-loud pop of your knees.

On that note, you planted your palms into the rug, pushing yourself to your feet as you asked Armin where to find the bathroom. He pointed you in the right direction, just down the hallway. With each step, you felt the stretch of your legs, and from behind, you heard Jean yelling again.

“You’re seriously ordering pizza?”

Even though you had only met them this semester, it was easy to guess he was scolding Sasha again. It was nothing more than happenstance that you sat next to them that day, the trio that seemed to know each other outside of class. When you were instructed to find groups of four, you were roped in with them in the chaos that was partnering up, always comparable to flocking birds.

You did well enough on that assignment, even with Sasha barely skating by, so you figured you might as well work on the next project together. They were the sort of people you could laugh—loud and hard—with, which probably explained why you were fussing over this presentation now, less than forty-eight hours before its due date.

First door on your right. That’s what Armin said, right?

No, that wasn’t what he said, actually. And you learned your mistake the hard way, too, immediately after opening the door.

Context clues alone, it was easy to guess that you didn’t walk into the bathroom. Of course, you didn’t walk into the bathroom. That would have been too easy, wouldn’t it? No, you walked into Armin’s roommate's room. You didn’t even know he had a roommate, let alone one you could walk in on, phone in one hand, his thing in the other. It didn't feel right to say it if you weren't supposed to see it.

“Oh my God, I’m—” You were so flustered you didn’t even utter the word ‘sorry’ before slamming the door shut again, which was probably for the best.

Your heart was pounding—you felt it echoing hard in your throat—when you looked just across the hall. The door was open and, lo and behold, it was the bathroom.Empty and dark.

You hid inside it, your back pressed against the door. You were mortified—hot with it, too. The apartment was already balmy with sticky spring air, leaving you flushed in all the wrong places as you debated running from the apartment, never to return.

You still had to pee, so you did that, spinning through every emotion all the while—like one of those ridiculously-large gameshow wheels you had to spin with both hands. Tick, tick, tick… tick. Suddenly, you were berating yourself. First door on the left. You’re such an idiot! Spin again. Tick, tick, tick… tick. The wheel stopped, and you shifted the blame. Shouldn’t he have known Armin had company over?

You stayed put on the toilet like there weren’t people waiting on you back in the living room. You were still thinking about him. That guy across the hall. What else were you supposed to think about? It wasn’t like you could go back out there as if it were still some regular, old Tuesday.

For obvious reasons, you didn’t see much of him. The image in your head was more like a photograph captured by a shaky hand. He was a blur of brown hair. White on top, black bottoms, cut in half by a tanned midsection that you only caught a glimpse of—right before he grabbed his blanket and you retreated to the bathroom.

If you thought hard enough—and embarrassingly, you did—you could see it again. See him again, with his hand wrapped around himself.

It was so wrong to think of him, a stranger, like that. There was a burning pit in your stomach when you thought of the indecency of it, fantasizing about someone in their most vulnerable state, without their permission.

You couldn’t help it, though. Just like how you couldn’t help the way your thighs clenched together the longer you thought about it.

The image you created in your mind was much lewder than what you had actually witnessed. While you couldn’t even pick his face out of a line-up, you still imagined his lips, how he’d bite into them as he pumped his cock through his climax. Toned legs, revealed by his pants that he had only tugged to his knees because, in the heat of it, he couldn’t be bothered to take them off fully.

You wiped again because you were getting shamefully wetter with every passing second. Then, for some insane reason, you felt the urge to apologize to him. Surely, that was the only solution to make this less awkward; you had yourself fully convinced of it for a split second.

You still didn’t know what came over you, but you pocketed your underwear before pulling your shorts back up. They almost didn’t fit, what with how small your shorts were, but you made it work.

You washed your hands, thinking that, admittedly, this wasn’t one of your brightest ideas. Your cotton shorts would unavoidably slip to the side if you were to return to your spot on the rug. But if this went the way you were hoping it would, you wanted to be thoughtful enough to grant easy access.

Then, if he needed a helping hand—pun intended—you would slip him your underwear, as if that were any less shameless than saying the words, ‘I would like you to fuck me now. If you’re interested, of course.’

It was in that same split second that you knocked on the door. The one just across the hall. The first door on the right. His door.

You wouldn’t call yourself naive, even in the slightest. You knew that by knocking on his door, you were risking the chance of something happening. What exactly, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t just have your panties shoved into your pocket for no good reason.

Your confidence started to wane, and it was quickly replaced by a sinking feeling. The timing was rather unfortunate, wasn’t it? It was as if the sound of your knuckles against the wood dragged you back to reality.

The door opened before you could even think of something to say. You should have had it planned out more, considering you spent the last five minutes contemplating your existence on the toilet. You were immediately consumed with how weird this was—how weird you had made it, just by showing your face again.

You found him a bit dazzling, looking up at him gave you the same feeling as when you stared into a bright light for too long. You blinked just the same, too, as if he had you seeing stars. Or you were going to pass out from humiliation.

It wasn’t like you were meeting under normal circumstances. You didn’t casually run into him at a bar, though you would have much preferred spilling your drink on him to whatever this was. You were only reminded of what happened when you noted that his cheeks were still stained pink. Whether it was from embarrassment or something else—like the telling blush of arousal—you weren’t sure.

All the same, he reduced you to nothing more than a moony teenage girl. You were fixed on his eyes. Green, but you were unable to distinguish the shade because you were lost in him again—the version of him you created in your head. You wanted to see if that version truly existed; how he’d look when he came from your touch instead of his own.

Your voice was mangled and lost in your throat. Like an opossum, it was just as if you had summoned him only to play dead at his feet. You tried not to crumble—swallowing your saliva that ran thick—even when he stuck his head out into the hallway, looking around as if he were on an episode of Punk’d.

He asked, “Is this some kind of joke?” to no one in particular, but he spoke like he really wanted to ask, ‘Where the fuck did this chick come from?’

“No, no!” you tried to assure him with the frantic wave of your hands. The flightiness in your voice only made you more nervous because now he knew you were nervous. You found just enough sense to introduce yourself, slowing your voice as you explained, “I’m working on a project with Armin.”

You could see it in his eyes, the fleeting second that it clicked for him. It didn’t last long, though. His brows were quick to furrow again because that still didn’t explain why you were here. Why you had just walked in on him—

“Can I come in?” you asked. You were looking for any sliver of reassurance in his answer. Something to help you decide whether or not you were going to hand him your panties.

This all sounded so absurd, didn’t it? Like something out of a bad porno—probably no different than the one you caught him watching.

He didn’t look sold on the idea, still eyeing you like this was all part of an elaborate prank. Even so, you could tell that, at the very least, his curiosity was piqued. He eventually stepped aside, holding the door open for you, like he had no other choice but to entertain the idea.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you said as you made your way inside. You heard him close the door behind you, and you tried not to infer any meaning from it. He walked past you, placing himself between you and the bed. “For earlier.”

“Okay.”

There was a prickle of awkwardness. You felt yourself shrinking when you muttered, “And for this, I guess.”

You couldn’t read his expression. It was like he wanted you to get out but also… not? He looked at you the way one would look at an abstract painting. Like he was trying to get you, as if you were open to his interpretation.

Then again, you did just show up at his door, practically begging for more after stealing only a glimpse at his cock. He probably found you desperate and, right now, you weren’t above admitting that you were.

He looked at you like he was still trying to figure you out, as if it were possible from just a single look. His eyes didn’t carry the same boredom they did when he first opened the door, and the pink sheen on his cheeks had disappeared, too, telling you embarrassment must have been its cause.

He surely didn’t look embarrassed anymore. He sat on the corner of his bed, one leg bent at the knee and resting beside him, and the other hanging off the side. It was like you were sharpening the image you had in your head the longer you looked at him. You could see now that he was dressed in a white tee—covering his midsection this time—and a pair of black basketball shorts. His brunette hair was messily tied back in a way that had you wondering if it was ever neat to begin with.

Something about the sight didn’t sit right with you, even if all the parts you wanted to see were covered and forbidden. It was the sort of look that was too intimate to be shared between strangers, and more like something that had to wait for a second date, at least.

But you weren’t sure why you were thinking like that in the first place.

Much to your dismay, you were still fidgeting. It made you sound even more squirrely as you said, “That’s it, I guess.”

You didn’t need to say it. You could have just excused yourself after your flimsy apology. But you were still interested—and only because you knew he was still interested. It was apparent to you because, from this angle, you could see he was still hard. There was no way he was wearing any boxers.

And just as poorly as he tried to hide it, you failed to hide the way you let your eyes linger there. It was hard—no pun intended this time—not to. There was a lot going through your head, but the most blaring sign, flashing in big lights, told you this was about to become the best mistake you had ever made.

It was only confirmed when he said, “I don’t know if you are.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t look very sorry to me.” His eyes, now darkened, looked you up and down, only once, like he was sizing you up. “How about you come here and show me just how sorry you really are.”

There was a newfound gravel to his voice. You could feel it in your chest, thumping just around your racing heart. It lured you to him.

He talked like he knew how to fuck, and you really, really needed a good fuck—as if it could unburden you from a semester’s worth of stress. Where else were you going to find such a sinfully hot guy, hard and already riled up, like he was put here just to (fingers crossed) fuck you senselessly into his mattress.

You thought of the underwear that was still in your pocket. Before you could decide what to do with it, he beat you to it, like he knew it was there all along. He gave you a smile, one that said he had only let you think you were in control.

'How silly of you,' was what it sounded like when he said, “That’s what I thought.”

He balled the dainty fabric in his hand before tossing it aside. He seemed much more interested in you—taking you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap. He was strong. You could tell just by the way he held onto you, like he could bend and break you if he pleased.

The strength in his hands alone was enough for you to brush off the cockiness in his voice. But even more, you felt how badly he wanted this—perhaps even more than you did—in his touch, like fire underneath his fingertips. Not that it surprised you, of course. He was the one fisting his cock not even ten minutes ago.

But now, it was like you had dropped straight from heaven and right into his lap, quite literally. And as you lowered yourself onto him, the heat between your legs pressed up against his cock, you caught the beautiful groan he let slip.

You ground against him helplessly, letting yourself feel every inch of him through his shorts. His hands, resting on the tops of your thighs, dug into the plush of them as he dragged you over him. It was enough to pull a whine from you—even louder once he placed a hand on your back, flattening against it to pull you into him. You collided, his mouth on your neck. He made quick work of the delicate skin like he knew exactly where you liked to be kissed and where he should bite.

He didn’t shush you, but it lurked in your mind that his friends were just on the other side of his bedroom wall. But he didn’t seem to care, even with all your whimpers as he continued kissing your neck. He stayed there for a long time before ever kissing your mouth. Not that you could complain. You were lost in the delirious feeling of his lips, hot and wet, trailing down the side of your throat, dipping down to the spot near your collarbone that had you squirming already.

You wanted your shorts off, but you knew it would be difficult from this position. He knew it, too, which was why he told you, “Stand up,” between his nibbles at your ear lobe.

You did as you were told and stood just between his legs. His hands smoothed over your hips, taking your shirt along with him. He was at eye level with your bare stomach, leaving kisses there. One at a time, he replaced his hands with yours, having you hold your shirt up for him. You watched as he slowly inched off your shorts, kissing everywhere—your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs—but the place you needed him most. When you felt your shorts at your ankles, he pulled you right back onto his lap, like he thought you belonged there.

The only thing separating you was his thin basketball shorts. You wanted to undress him next, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, with his fingertips tickling up your thighs. He only stopped to slip a teasing finger along the crease. You giggled at it, and it was the first time he heard your laugh. The sound was swallowed up by him, the unexpected plush of his lips now on yours. You liked them better here—on your mouth.

He kissed with just as much passion as you imagined, with his hand—the one that wasn’t tickling between your legs—cupping your jaw. He held you close, his tongue brushing past your lips to meet yours. You were really lost in him now, your hips aimlessly searching for his fingers—for anything.

You separated an inch, just for him to whisper to you, “I want you to get yourself off on my fingers first.” He tilted his chin down with unspoken gentleness. In the same cadence one would use to ask for permission, he asked, “Can you do that for me?”

He waited for you to nod, looking more like a bobblehead because if he didn’t touch you soon you might die. He rubbed your clit with languid circles, watching how you twitched when he grazed over a certain spot. When he quickened his touch, you collapsed your weight into his chest. It left you in the prime position to bite down on his shoulder, just to stifle your moans, as he dipped a finger inside you.

Already, there was a bubble, as hot as an iron, brewing low in your stomach. You rolled your hips in rhythm with the pumping of his fingers—now a second one inside you—with the heel of his palm adding pressure perfectly against your clit.

You tossed your head back when you came, another cry escaping past your lips. It was loud enough that he finally reacted to it, silencing it only by shoving something soft into your mouth. When you opened your eyes again, you recognized the black fabric of your underwear.

You were still riding out your orgasm—drool soaking through your panties—or else you would have taken them from your mouth. Instead, you kept your hands occupied by digging the blunt of your nails into his arms, looking for any sense of stability before you went limp in his arms.

“You gotta be quieter than that if you want to come again,” he told you. You only acknowledged it with another needy whimper.

He held you upright in his lap before laying you on the mattress beside him, like you were nothing more than a plaything. But you were fine with that. You wanted to be his plaything, just for now.

You went to take the underwear from your mouth, but he stopped you just before with his hand around your wrist.

“Promise you’ll be quiet for me?” he asked, his voice dulcet. You nodded, again like a bobblehead, and he took the panties from your mouth. He let his thumb caress over your cheek as he said, “Good.”

He tugged his shirt over his head. You ogled at what you could before he crawled over you, placing a hand on either side of your head to hold himself up.

His eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, following yours as you trailed your hand down the length of his body. You let them dawdle over his toned stomach before palming over his cock, which you hoped to see again very soon. You felt him twitch from just your hand alone, and it had you wondering how sensitive he’d be to your tongue.

When your fingers met the waistband of his shorts, you began shimming lower so you could take him into your mouth. He stopped you just short of freeing his length. You looked up at him, big-eyed and curiously, because what guy could possibly turn down a blow job?

He was back on his feet, towering over you as he stood at the side of the bed. He was quick to find his phone, and when he unlocked it, you heard the muffled sounds of whatever porn he had been watching.

You propped yourself onto your elbows to see whatever it was he wanted to show you. He took your interest as an okay to show you the screen. On it was a woman, stretched on her back, with her head dangling from the bed. There was a man fucking her throat, garbling her wanton moans as he fingered her.

“I want you to do it for me just like this,” he told you before throwing his phone aside. It was useless to him now; he had the real thing. His hands found you again, the warmth of your stomach. His fingers slipped higher underneath your shirt. “Think you can handle that?”

You were beyond turned on by the thought of him stroking himself to this video earlier. Now, here you were—once again, straight out of heaven—like you were made just to fulfill his fantasies. But, God, the thought of him ruining you had you aching.

You answered him by stripping from your shirt. Your bra next, undoing its clasp and tossing it aside, all in one swift motion. You would gift him with the lovely sight—your body in its entirety—as you sucked him off.

But before that, he wanted you. Just a little taste.

He leaned over you, kissing between your breasts and everywhere else that he could. You felt the heat of his breath on your nipple, just before he took it into his mouth. His tongue was hot as he flicked at it, sucking until he had your back arching, with mewls spilling from your lips.

He kept you there, only for a moment, and only long enough that he could leave his mark on you. When he was finally satisfied with the number of love bites he had decorated you with, he rolled you around until you mimicked the woman in the video, your mouth gaping for him and everything. You even lolled your tongue out, eager to please a man you had just met—more importantly, a man that just made you come and planned to do so again very soon.

One of his hands was at your face, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin beneath your chin. He ran his thumb over your tongue, letting you give it a coquettish lick. He used his other hand to yank down his shorts, all the way off this time.

You were right when you guessed he wasn't wearing boxers. His cock sprung out, nearly slapping his abdomen, before he took it in his hands. He pumped himself twice, and when he lined himself up with your mouth, you wondered if it was the angle or if you were truly going to struggle to take him fully.

He ran the tip over your lips. You wetted them for him, making it easy for him to slip into your mouth. He groaned at the feeling—even sharper when you hollowed your cheeks around him, and that was only the head. He was just as sensitive as you had hoped.

You could feel his restraint when he pushed deeper into your throat, like he was painfully aware of the fact that you were completely at his mercy. You encouraged him, offering a few moans with every thrust. He used the first few as a test, like he wanted to make sure you could really take it, then he pulled out of your mouth with a conspicuous popping sound. There was even a cliche string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Fuck—that’s so hot,” he muttered, his voice so raspy that it was almost missing. It was the first break in his composure, along with the shudder he let rip through his body.

You met his eyes again, staring up at him as you patiently wait for him to give you more. He rewarded your obediency by ramming his cock back into your mouth, gaining speed with every rock of his hips. It only took a couple more before you felt him at the back of your throat.

“I knew you could—ah—do it for me, pretty girl.” His voice was encouraging, like you could hear the swell of his heart. It was sweeter than any sonnet, having you melt even as he fucked your face until you felt tears pool at the corners of your eyes.

It was clear he was loving it, with how his hands went heavy as he slid them down your stomach. How his abs went tight every time you gagged on his cock. Even from upside down, with loose hairs casting over his lidded eyes, you still found him beautiful.

What a strange thing to say, considering he continued to brutalize your swollen mouth. All the same, he had you rubbing your legs together as if you were in heat, but it only left your thighs sticky with your slick.

He leaned over you, helping you out by reaching between your legs in search of your clit again. You heard him curse again, just under his breath. Whether it was from your cries—suffocated by his cock—or just how wet you were for him, you weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that if he kept this up, you were bound to come undone again any second.

He must have felt it, too, because all at once, he pulled out from your mouth. It left you coughing like you suddenly remembered how to breathe again. Still, you mourned the loss of his fingers.

He caught the pout on your lips. It shouldn’t have made him smile, but it did, even as he teased, “Such a needy one, aren’t you?” He ran his fingers over your mouth like he could wipe away the frown. “You’re far too precious to suffocate.”

You whined at that, and you would have found it embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate, practically begging him to fuck you—now—with the kittenish way you rolled around until you were on your back.

Your eyes followed his hand as it reached into the drawer of his nightstand. He retrieved a condom and tore open its package, his attention never leaving you once. He looked pleased by it—your eagerness—how you spread your thighs only to keep him caged between, with your legs draped over the side of the bed. The smile at the corner of his lips still hadn’t faded.

You could only watch him, mesmerized as he rolled the condom over his length—impressive enough that you felt proud to have had all of it down your throat just a moment ago.

He knew you were there to give him exactly what he wanted. And when he cajoled you with, “Hold them for me—like this,” he knew you’d listen.

He lifted each of your thighs and pressed them into your chest. With your knees nearing your shoulders, you knew what to do next. You wrapped your hands around the backs of your legs and held them in place for him.

“That’s it,” he cooed, taking you by the waist and setting you farther back onto the bed. “Look how pretty.”

He walked his hands up either side of you until crawled onto the bed, hovering just above you with his weight shifted back to his knees. He guided himself to your entrance with one hand, letting the tip of the condom slip between you, teasing your clit just enough to have you pull in a harsh breath through your nose.

“So fucking pretty—” He pushed himself inside you. There was little resistance, like you had turned to putty and were somehow able to mold yourself to take him perfectly. Your head pressed deeper into the mattress, with him kissing up the expanse of your leg, just above your ankle. “—and all for me.”

You felt him flush against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit in just the right way. You fought the urge to lock your legs around him to keep him there, your voice nothing more than a whisper when you begged, “Fuck—don’t stop.”

He took you then. Madly, recklessly, agonizingly—whatever you wanted to call it—it was a frenzied mess of limbs and lips, sweat and sheets, flesh and groans. It was all of the best parts of being tangled up in someone. You wanted him, every bit of him, to taste and to touch, as if he wasn’t already as close to you as humanly possible.

He groaned in your ear, his breath fanning the side of your face. Like he could read your thoughts, he told you, “I want to feel you.” He dragged his cock from you, slowly, then punctuated his next statement with the snap of his hips, forcing you even higher onto the bed. “I want to fuck you raw.”

The words alone were enough to have you teetering over the edge again, but you were practically a babbling mess at the sound of his voice—all strangled as he nearly begged for it. The only thing you could manage now was a breathless chant of please, please, please.

After the third one, he looked at you more seriously. You found it cute, how his brows hung pensively over his eyes. It was much more boyish and suited his face more. “Birth control?”

You still didn’t have enough oxygen in your lungs to form anything more than, “The pill.”

“Clean?” he asked next. He sat back on his knees, waiting until you nodded. “Me too.”

Only then did he roll off of you. He moved to sit on the bed with his back to the headboard. Even after all that, his arms were still steady as he lifted you. In one swoop, you were back on his lap—so effortlessly that he had you believing you belonged there now, too.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pulled him to your chest because you missed having his lips there. He didn’t fight it, letting his tongue and lips and teeth explore every inch of you, his face smushed in your tits.

You let him continue long enough for him to ditch the condom. You reached down, stroking him a few times with your hand. He reacted to it—what a gift it was that there was nothing separating you again—with a hard inhale just through his nose.

You held him at the base to guide his cock inside you. As leisurely as one would stroll through the park—as if you had all the time in the world to stop and smell the roses, wait for every groan that bubbled at the back of his throat—you sank onto his cock. It gave way for another break in his cool composure.

You watched it as it happened—the very look, right as it skipped across his irises. It was followed by a breathless sound, one that lived somewhere between a chuckle and gasp, that slipped past his slack-jaw smile.

You couldn’t help but smile, too, thinking he looked drunk off the feeling—even more once you sat high again only to crash back onto him. Then again, and again. Quicker and quicker, until you were bouncing on his cock with your hands flattened against the headboard for support.

He reached a different angle in this position, deeper, and it had you almost trembling above him. He let you continue to use him, anyway you wanted, admiring where he disappeared inside you.

As if you weren’t the one controlling your fingers, you let your hand slip between your legs to aid your release. You felt all your blood rush to your face, flooding you with sweltering heat, and it became a challenge to keep your hips from sputtering.

Your only focus was on your high—like you had become dumb to anything else—and it was quickly approaching. Your shaky breaths melted into choked sobs just as he pushed two fingers, index and middle, into your mouth.

He pressed down on your tongue. “You don’t want them to hear you like this, do you?”

You looked at him, eyes wide and dedicated only to him, as you sucked his fingers instinctively. He smirked at you when he said, “Pathetic, little thing.”

You came again. Your orgasm crashed over you, with every muscle shaking and tensing before you could barely even hold yourself up anymore.

His finger left your mouth. They were wet, dribbling spit along your cheek, as he held your face in his hand. He turned you to look at him when he said, “What do you say?”

Almost like you had said it a million times before, you didn’t hesitate to murmur, “T-thank you.”

He hummed, “You’re such a good toy.”

He sunk down into the bed, his head now on the pillows. He grabbed your hips with bruising force, just before you could fall pliant over him. As if to say, ‘Now it’s my turn,’ he held you still while he fucked up into you, his feet planted firmly into the mattress.

He couldn’t stop your sounds this time. They spilled freely from you, even as you bit your lip so hard you must have drawn blood, still sensitive from your orgasm as he pounded into you. It nearly had you seeing stars, like you were blind from the pleasure of letting him have you.

He was close, you could hear it in his erratic breaths just before he grunted, “You gonna let me come in you? Shit—you want me to fill you up?”

“Yes—” you whined.

“Yes, what?”

“I want you to come in me—please!”

He didn’t let up. His thrusts were still just as unrelenting as he looked up at you sardonically. “You wanna go back out there with my come dripping from you?”

All you could too was give him a slurred, ‘hmmph!’

“So dirty. You’re gonna make a mess of yourself.” He snapped his hips a few times like he could bury even deeper into you. It brought out a certain gruff in his voice as he told you, “Don’t think that I’m giving back those panties.”

It took just one more buck of his hips, hitting just the right spot, for him to nearly knock out your last breath. You collapsed onto him, your bodies sticky with sweat, as you nestled your face into the crook of his shoulder. You were within perfect earshot of listening to his sharp grunts as he came.

His last few thrusts were languid. Long and slow strokes like he wanted to draw out the feeling. You couldn’t even open your eyes, let alone hold onto a single coherent thought, before you whispered, “Thank you.”

The thought of you thanking him for his come pulled another groan from him. You felt his cock jolt inside you. If he hadn’t just given you everything he had, you were sure he’d be hard again.

You didn’t know where your clothes were, and you couldn’t be bothered to care. You laid beside him, each of you on your backs, with chests as heavy as anvils as you gathered your tattered breaths.

You looked over at him, and he was already looking back at you. It was a moment of stillness. His eyes weren’t as dark as they once were—sort of like he was a different person. You couldn’t help but think he looked perfect like that.

He sounded different, too. Almost embarrassed. You heard it in the hint of a chuckle he offered, just at the end, when he asked, “What did you say your name was again?” You gave him your name, and he repeated it once to himself. “Got it. I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Next time?”

“You think I’m gonna fuck you like that then just let walk out of my life? No fucking way.” That smile was back—the big one he showed you when you learned he liked when you sat on his cock slowly.

You laughed a little, mirroring some of his bashfulness, as reality started to sink in. You finally confessed, “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“It’s Eren.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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Up All Night 1

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)

Note: I wasn't serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You rub your cheek as you check the time in the corner of the screen. You should’ve been gone an hour ago, you should have your bottle of shiraz and your episode of housewives to keep you company. You don’t know why you expected that, nothing ever goes to schedule, not with your boss.

You sigh at his empty office. You haven’t seen him for two days. He has an automatic reply that he’s ‘working remotely’. You know Mr. Drysdale well enough. He doesn’t work outside the office, he barely does anything at the office.

You go back to the PDF, your red notes in the margin of the manuscript. Big meeting tomorrow. Hopefully your boss got that message. You can only imagine what would happen if a publishing house missed their introductory conference with a major writer. That could mean thousands, if not millions, in losses. Somehow, you suspect you won’t have to imagine.

You finish the chapter and press your finger to your phone. It lights up but you don’t have anything more than the several reminders you set for yourself and automated notifications from apps you never use. Drysdale…

His last name rolls from your throat without meaning too. Something about him just irks you to the bone. Maybe it’s envy, or at very least, resent. You’ve worked all these years in the publishing business to become an assistant, all while he was born into his editor’s chair.

Another bubble pops up. You’re not the social media type. You never got much into it. Your generation came a bit too early for that, but you’ve found with men like Drysdale, narcissists really, it is a great tool.

You tap the notification and it opens the story. There he is, taking a shot with a pair of statuesque twins. Not the best look for an editor, on that night, of all nights.

You clamp your lips shut and flare your nostrils. Right. You close your laptop as you see Eugene making his sweep. Once security pops up, you know you’ve got to go. You pack up your things and say hello to the man in the blue uniform on your way out. He knows you by name too.

You shift your glasses on your nose, the little rubber pieces starting to squeeze your bridge. You come out the front of the building and make your way to the only car left in the lot. You throw your bag in the back and drop into the front seat.

No wine for you. You’ll have to stream the episode when it comes out on Prime. You set a new alarm for the morning, early enough for you to make sure Mr. Drysdale meets his obligations.

📗

As expected, you don’t have a single call from Drysdale. You’ve left several messages since your alarm blared and broke through your four hours of sleep. You see his last activity on Insta from three in the morning and you want to throttle your own phone. This isn’t good.

You have only enough time to get yourself ready. Your morning routine of a perfectly portioned breakfast and precisely brewed dark roast is nixed. You get in your car with coffee in a travel mug. You have only one thing on your mind.

As you draw up the long drive to the ultra-modern facade, the revulsion courses from your stomach into your throat. There’s something about his style that makes your eyes roll. So obnoxious and absurd. He’s exactly a caricature of a silver-spooned brat.

You park behind the beamer and take a draw from your insulated mug. Ugh, you need caffeine, you need strength and patience. You put it back in the cupholder and force yourself out of the peace of the front seat.

You stride up the white stone walkway and hit the doorbell. Once. Twice. Five times before you admit you will not receive an answer. You bring up the emergency file in your phone and key in the door code. Drysdale would shit if he knew his mother sent you it but she is a lot smarter than him. It makes you wonder how the apple rolled so far away after falling.

You let yourself in. It’s quiet but for the catch and skip of a forgotten record. You go into the front room. Open bottles of liquor forgotten on the glass table, a broken glass on the floor, and the record player crackling through the speaker.

You pull the needle off and pause to look out through the transparent wall that gives a clear view of the entire room. You know Drysdale to be shameless but really?

You put your phone away and approach the stares. The large gap between each gives a sense of vertigo to your ascent. You get to the top and head down the hall, glancing down over the entryway as you do.

You carry on and open a door; closet. The next, a bathroom, the other, a bedroom but not used. And finally, you find the door you’re looking for. On the other side, Mr. Drysdale sleeps with his ass naked in the room, upside down on the bed with his head hanging off the foot. The same woman from his Instagram are entwined with him as they sleep the right side up. Ugh, you don’t want to picture it.

You go into the en suite bathroom and take the sleek black plastic cup from beside the sink. You fill it with cold water and unhook the amber satin robe from the door as you pass. You march to the bed and dump the water onto Ransom’s head, watching it splash down his back.

He yipes and whips his head up with an unattractive snort, “what the fuck–”

“Robert Laing is due at nine. It’s ten to eight.” You drop the robe over him carelessly and spin on your heel, “let’s go., Mr. Drysdale.”

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #drabble #au #up all night #series #the club #knives out

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vitzi9 · 10 months

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Patience is the key to success (2)

Masterlist if you want to read my others things. Part 1 here.

CW/TW: yandere-manipulative-obsessive-stalker-ethan, fem reader, smut, no p in v, depressed reader(but really), suicidal thoughts

i'm trying to post this quick because I crave attention, whatever its insults, compliments, likes or repost, idc. I want ppl to know i'm existing. i have a big oral test tomorrow and im really bad at speaking before someone (hence why im writing instead) so i just need to know im not totally useless in the society and that im, at the very least, making people enjoy my things. sorry for the rant, i have a big headhache, probably gonna die ✌️😚

the smut is really bad btw but like really but im bad at writing them but i need to to improve (26/06/2023) (5226 words)

"Let's just finish watching the movie now." you say and Ethan doesn't make you repeat as he goes straight to the couch.

You felt much better after that little talk. Ethan did not say much but in his words, there was a lot more. He was planning to be with you a long time. He does not want to ruin things. It made you so happy. Every fiber in you was warm thinking of it. You were at peace.

Ethan was calm after that, albeit moving uncomfortably sometimes. (maybe because of his boner?) He was just as cuddly as when you arrived. His head laid flat on your chest, rising up and down with each one of your breath. Your fingers brush his curl slowly as you hear his breathing slacken. You were giddy thinking about him being at peace with you, too.

His arms were closed tightly around your body, never letting you go. The movie was really advanced by now, the end was coming soon. It probably was something towards 11AM. Usually, you would have gone knock at your friend's house but there was no need now as you already saw her earlier.

When the movie fatefully ended, the credits start to roll but none of you moved an inch. Ethan rubs his cheeks against your chest before sighing happily. His eyes were closed. Was he asleep ? No, certainly not. He loves horror movie. He wouldn't fall asleep when one is ongoing.

He was cute here. You were delighted to think he trusted you enough to let his guards down and sleep with you. You were his safeplace. And he was yours. Your fingers trail down on his back where you draw small patterns dreamily. You write things, that cross your mind. You simply scratch him. His sudden speaking startle you. Your hand stopping evey movements.

"Are you sleeping far from here, today ? Every movements of his jaw hitting slightly on your chest. 'today' because he knew about your frequent change of home.

Relaxing, you continue to caress his back lovingly.

-No, not really. But I don't sleep there anymore.

The hotel too was starting to worry you. Like the building was shrieking on you. You don't know what was scarier, to be alone or to never be. And now that you found such a warm place, you don't want to leave. Ever.

-Why ?

-Scare me, s'all.

-You can sleep here tonight, if you want.

-Why ? Your decision was already made; you'd sleep here. You knew it the second he offered you to stay the night. But you wanted to see his arguments to convince you.

"Let me be with you." his sentence made a shiver run down your back.

Did that stalker fucked you up so hard you had chill even thinking about them? It was just a damn sentence. Everyone can say it. For god's sake, it's Ethan saying it of all people. Even if he awoke this uneasy feeling back, you couldn't blame him. He didn't know about the sign the criminal had shown you. You didn't tell him that much detail, only saying they had indeed brought creepy signs but omitting what was written on it. And Ethan said it so prettily, too. Yes, of course you'd be with him.

He told you you never slept here before and that you'd be safe anyway since he's here and don't plan on leaving you. So you accepted. It was really early in the day but the both of you were getting sleepy because of the calm and comfort of the situation. He offered you to go to his room which you accepted. After guiding you to there, he tells you he has to go grab something and that he'd be back really quick.

And he did, in fact, came back really quick.

By then, you were already sprawled out on his bed. You had time to see the mess he had scattered everywhere. The carboard, the books, the drawings, some letters, too. And you even found out about his second phone. The lockscreen was a generic one, the one you have by default, as if he just got it recently. But the phone wasn't new, it seems in contrary really old as it was broken at some area.

Ethan arrives in the room with a small plastic blue square packaging, you don't have time to see what it was that he throws it under the bed. You don't pay it too much attention. Playing mindlessly with his other phone in hand, you take off and put back the phone case of it to entertain yourself.

"You got two phones ? you ask even though you kind of knew the answer already.

-Oh, yes. One is for games only, the other is the one I'm really using. Did you went on it ?

-No, don't worry, I won't frisk into your secret criminal life."

He smiles before taking the phone out of your hand. He places it in the drawer of his nightstand. Ethan falls on top of you, taking your breath away for a moment. You laugh and hit his back for him to get away from you and he just laugh heartly before letting himself fall beside you.

He lays down, setting his head on his arm, looking up at you with stars in eyes. Sometimes, he's so pretty it hurt physically to look at him. Starting to get embarrassed by his insistent look, you find something to say.

-Why do you have so much pieces of cardboard anyway ?

-I make placards out of them.

With a fond smile, Ethan stares straight at your eyes. As if waiting for you to say something. You would have ask questions about his 'placards ' if not for the sudden interest he was displaying in you, which, instead, made you change subject without really noticing it. A nervous laugh escaping you.

-Why are you looking at me like that ? Is there an undertone ? Am I supposed to understand something ?"

He shakes his head negatively, displaying a small mischievous smile. He could be such a goblin at times ! Wanting to make him swallow his pride, you lean towards him and kiss his lips. Ethan smiles and moves his lips with yours.

Your arm set down on his waist and soon the kiss get heated. Ethan's body is burning, his breath is too. You don't let each other breath, as soon as you separate from each other, you plunge back in. Physically needing the contact.

You rise on your knee, arching your back to kiss him still laying flat on the bed. Soon, he joins you by rising as well. Both of you on your knees, face to face, eating each other's face. Ethan's hand are mahandling you to sit on his thights. Then, with his surprising strenght, he starts sliding you on them. Your heating pussy rubbing directly on the fabric of his pant. Your hand instinctivly goes to rub the growing tent in his trousers. The area was hot, when you slide your fingers on it, it would budge.

Ethan whimpers, thrusting his hips against yours. You straddle him completly, framing his his body with your legs. You rub his tent against your clit for some frictions. It was aching and growing more desperate by seconds.

"I... I wanna have sex with you." Ethan says softly.

You kiss his cheek, going for his neck. You answer with a meek 'me too' before sucking the skin of his neck. Ethan backs his head, already out of breath. He gives you full access to his body, still rutting desperatly his hips into yours.

But you were growing impatient. You lift your body from him, making him whine at the contact loss, before sliding your fingers behind the elastic of his pants. You slip it down to his knees before you start salivating at the sight of his hard cock already drooling for you.

He didn't have any underwear. That's why you could feel him so close to your core.

Your hand touch his thight, caressing gently his body. Making sure to avoid the area he need you the most. Ethan try to touch himself, tired of your teasing, but you slap his hand away. He whines and looks up at you with teary eyes. Silently begging you to do something. It was impossible for you to resist him.

Your hand grabs his cock in one motion, you could feel it pulse and its warmth propagate in your hand. It was already so so wet because of all his precum, your hand was sliding so easily you could have thought he came multiple times already. Gently, you start to move your hand on all its lenght slowly. The boy props himself on his elbows and look at the scene before him. Ethan sighs happily, eyes closing and head backing. He's in heaven, he thinks. But not entirely, as he looks at you still clothed.

"Want to... Want to finger you..." he pleas.

In front of a boy so desperate, and being incredibly horny, you slide your pant down, making sure your underwear went with it. Ethan lose every one of his braincells when he sees your bare pussy glistening with your love juice. He wanted to lick it bad. That's the only one fanstam he ever had that help him getting off so hard he can't move for a whole minute. He wants to drown himself in your juice. But you have others projects.

You guide his pointer finger to your lips. Ethan starts caressing it and smear your juice everywhere. His lift up another finger and start passing both of them on your lips.

"Here, you have to touch here." you say, pointing to your clit.

You move briefly to bring your genitals closer. You could feel each other's warmth emanating from your core. Seeing him try to touch you was so hot. He was listening to everything you said.

Soon getting the hang of it, he starts circling your clit, applying different pressure on it to see which one were you reacting the most to. Slowly, you quicken your pace on his hard cock. As if to reward him for being such a good boy. He was in a trance, eyes closing and opening. And when they opened, they were staring with a utmost care at your moving breast throught your shirt. Your nipples were hard and were poking through the fabric.

His eyes were glued to it. Understanding his want, you lift your shirt above your collarbone with your free hand. Ethan can't seem to take off his eyes of you. They're probably the first pair of breasts he sees in real life after all.

"Fuck... You're so pretty, love." you speed up on his shaft at his praise. "Fuck, fuck...

-You can touch baby.

-I can?"

He stops all movements to your pussy, your frown but let him discover his needs. It was his first time, you needed to let him have a little fun. His free hand touch one of your breast, massaging it then weighten it in the palm of his hand. He smiles like an idiot, an idiot so cute you let him do what he wants with you. His other, wet, hand pinch lightly your sensitive bud.

Your free hand slap his arm to make him understand he did it too hard. He sends you an apologatic smile.

"They're like stress ball."

Amused by the weird comparison, your chuckle. Still impatient to come, you guide your hand higher on his cock to caress his tip and rub it. His face contorts in pleasure, browns frows and mouth ajar. His forehead fall on your shoulder while his fingers go back down near your entrance. His hips were thrusting into nothing but your hand. Obscene wet noises were resulted. You were hot, terrribly hot but so was he.

Ethan's small puff of breath sends chill in your body. His whimpers couldn't be replaced with anyone else. Your hand was all wet and sticky, as was his. Ethan decides to enter once again two of his digits in you. Your head falls back and you sigh happily at finally scratching that itch in you.

"Curl your fingers, E." you whisper.

He hums and do as told. Curling his fingers in you, he starts to thrust them in and out at a slow pace, adopting the same sensuality you used to jerk him off. You accelerate, your hand no longer lingering on the entire shaft. Sometimes, you'd stop completly to hear him whine. Your thumb caressing his cock's veins.

"Baby please..." he pleas.

Ethan starts kissing sloppily your shoulder, your neck. You, on the other hand, take his hand to guide the thrust of his fingers, angling them correctly for them to touch that spongy spot inside. His fingers were long and thin, that was a part of him you absolutly loved. You always had a thing for pretty hands and his were beautiful.

"What do you want, love? you ask tenderly.

-Tell me you love me..."

You nudge his hair with your nose and he looks up. Staring at his eyes, you see them wet with tears. You kiss him instantly. Playing with his tongue with yours, your hand moving faster and faster. You stop the kiss to tell him you love him and he bites his lips, eyes closing.

His breath is jerky, uneven. You press his palm against your clit, rubbing it while you push his fingers inside you again. You feel a knot tighten. You won't last long.

"Tell me you love me.

-I love you E, you're doing so good.

-Again..."

You said it as many times as he needed to feel better. His hips stuttters, his cock quivers. His words are slurred to each other, resulting in incomprehensible blabbering. You don't lose the rythm, keeping the same pace until he'd eventually come.

-Love you so..." he whines.

His body tense, his breath stops. You can only hear the wet sounds your hand is producing. He doesn't utter a sound until spurts of cum smear on your hand and belly. Feeling at ease, he moans a last time from relief and breath again.

You're not far behind. Ethan being pratically knocked out, you grind on his hand. You close your thighs around it, ensuring it stay inside. Your legs are shaking, wave of hot and cold invade you. You plunge his fingers inside but, to your surprise, Ethan regains control and start pounding into you to get you to your end.

He kisses your neck while you finally come on his fingers, sweaty and disvesheled. You swear one last time when he withdraws his fingers. You stay here for a while, just hugging , breathing and basking in each other's presence.

After some minutes, you decide to go shower together. You end up finally getting a good night of sleep, cuddled in his strong arms.

The next day, Ethan and you had a stupid satisfied smile on your face. Both happy to be here. You kissed and confessed your love to each other all morning until eventually he had to leave for work. Sadly, you had things to do, too. Ethan offered you to stay and sleep here for a few nights because he wanted to stay close to you.

You liked this idea. Of course you liked it, you love Ethan. And to convince you further, he told you his roomate wouldn't mind. So naturally you accepted. You were embarassed at the idea of bothering his roomate but you decided you would just sleep here, and the day, you'd let the apartment free. It was his too, after all. Not only Ethan's. There is no way you'd let someone feel excluded in their own house.

Grabbing your phone, you click on your friend's number. You call her, the ringing echoes three times and no one answer. Somehow begrudgingly, you resume yourself at simply sending a text. Just for you to instantly forgetting your sorrow as she answers. The discussion was quite simple, she was telling you she was at her grandma right now. She was bored and wanted to know how you were doing.

'I'm going back to my dear haunted apartment, probably gonna die. Wish me luck.' you texted. She put a little more time answering this one. It's possible it triggered something in her. After everything she endured. 'nobody will hurt you as long as i'm alive' she said. She simply changed subjects after that. Asking you about the cute guy you told her about in the letters. And so you explained everything. Every time you tried to offer to call her, she'd decline. You were still sad she didn't want to talk to you but you were telling yourself you needed to be patient.

On a happier note, you decided to leave the place to go to your own apartment.

To one point, you should have known better than be too happy about your improving situation. Of course, it was well too soon for you to consider everything better. But you were probably stupid because the fall hit you much harder than you could've prepared yourself for. Oh, the pain you felt when reality had finally caught you. You thought you were going to die when you came back home to simply grab some clothes. (Ethan told you to do so.)

Your door was ajar. But it wasn't your doing. No, of course it wasn't you. Your apartement terrified you, why would you come here more ofthen than needed ? You felt your body freeze but you quickly overcame the feeling. That's it. You needed it to end. This fucking stalker had ruined you. You and your life. You sent a text to Ethan, telling him that if you do not call him after twenty minutes, he needed to call the cops. He didn't answer. He was at work. It was well past eleven by now.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it was going to collapse on the ground, and you with it. Slowly, aware of every sound around you, you push the door. Your livingroom was as messy as you had left it. At one difference, the wall. Every frame you had put up on the walls were thrown away. Most of them on the ground and broken, with shattered glasses everywhere.

Why would the creep empty the walls ? To write on it. Of course they would write on it. You laugh bitterly for yourself. You couldn't see their stupids fucking signs anymore, so they had to improve. To force you to read their creepy obsessive text. You hear the crushing of a broken piece of glass, as if someone had stepped on it. But it wasn't you.

You're on alert. Every one of your senses on crisis. Was your mind playing tricks on you ? It was possible in this hellish house who did nothing but give you nightmares recently. You don't realize how you stopped breathing. Only calming when three long minutes had gone without another sound to be heard.

Nothing is here. You're alone, you think. Everything is good. You'll just grab your stuff and leave. Regaining your breath, you bring your attention back on the wall. Words were written on it in deep crimson red. Is that blood ? No, it can't be. Probably paint to give a creepy look that'll catch your attention. You approach the wall to better understand the message.

'She's not here anymore'

The need to throw up almost won. A dark feeling in your guts was telling you 'she' was your friend. But you didn't know. She responded to you, after all. You talked to her. So she had to be okay. She had to. You put your hand on your belly to soothe that want to vomit. You take big breath before finally leaving the livingroom. You quickly make your way to your room where you meet your bare bed. Where are your sheets ? What the hell ? But you don't want to stay longer so you throw clothes in your bag in a hurry.

The front door slam shut. And you know it's the end.

You already feel the tears drowning your sight. Trying to stay silent, you hide in your closet almost empty with how many times you came here to grab clothes. Your hand clasp against your mouth to avoid doing any noise.

Slow footsteps can be heard in the empty apartment. With your shaky hands, you fail to unlock your phone. Your vision is blurry, you can't touch the correct keys. The worst is that you can't see where the creep is. If they stay silent, they can enter the room you're in without you even noticing. And this idea is horrifying. But on another side, you'd preferred them to kill you by surprise so you don't have to affront them.

Your cries intensify, in your despair, you drop your phone straight on the ground. The footsteps stops abrutly. Three distincts knocks are echoing on the corridor's wall. They are coming toward you. You're fucked. They're coming ! What do you do ? What did you do ? Why is this happening ?

Kneeling like you could in the closed space, you reach your hand to grab your phone. As soon as your finger grazes it, the phone vibrate and your ringtone start playing for the whole building to hear. No, no, no, no, no ! Ethan. Ethan is calling you. You pick up despite everything but as soon as you do so, the call is cut short. Fuck E, why would you do that !

The criminal's footsteps are louder, quicker, heavier. They're running. They're running here ! You hold the closet door shut with your both hands, praying for your life. You only have knives in your kitchen, but it's too late now. If you go out, they'll see you. You realized at that moment that whatever you were doing, you couldn't win. That you never even stood a chance against them.

Everything was illusion.

Nothing was improving, you knew it, in fact. You were lying to yourself, searching comfort in a man that don't even understand the dept of the problem. Of your problem. And your friend ? You don't want to talk about her. You don't want to open your eyes just yet. You just want to live in your nice little lies you made up for yourself. You're nice with them, in fact, you like them. Nobody wanted to help you anyway. They could have saved you, you and her, but nobody listened.

Now, it's too late.

The closet start to shake. Widening your eyes, you realize that the creep had start to punch it with their bare fist. You don't give a fuck about being heard anymore, you're bailing your eyes out. Begging for them to let you go, screaming, yelling, calling for help. Holding the door for dear life as if it was going to save you, because in your head it was. But the door didn't last long.

A hole is quickly created in the door. You thought you'd see someone's face, wether it be a man, a woman, whatever. But you saw a white plastic mask instead.

Ghostface.

Why was a damn Ghostface chasing after you? Was it all a sick joke from the start ? You swear you were seeing his eyes boring into yours through the mask. You swore you already saw them somewhere. Ghostface tilts their face to the side, as if mocking you. They were telling you that you were stuck, that it was the end. You hoped they'd kill you.

You couldn't live like this anymore.

In the hole of the closet, Ghostface pass his gloved hand. The latter lay on your shaky face, on your cheek to be exact. You feel the fabric against your skin and think of biting his fingers off. No, you'll angry him. If he's going to kill you, that it be in the least painful way.

"Ethan, right ? Does he treat you so well you forgot about me?" his changed voice said. A weird and creepy robotic voice, one you knew you'd never forget.

You were moving your head left to right. You didn't know why. Probably to tell you didn't want to die, probably to avoid looking into his eyes. He laughs, sounding like a rumbling.

"Ending things right now would be such a waste."

No ! You thought you were finally free ! Why would he chases you down for so long without acting on it !? His gloved hand retract and the door slowly open in an acute creaking. The man is finally revealed before you. He was wearing the whole outfit, the big black robe and the hood.

"It was fun. I give you a gift to reward you for these beautiful screams."

And the knife.

He had a knife in hand. And it was tinged red. Something in you told you it was her. Suddenly, the red writings on your wall had a different meaning.

"I hope you like it, I worked extra hard for it."

Out of nowhere, Ghostface takes your hand, force it open, and lay in it something before forcing it closed. He laughs deeply. One of his hand pat your head mockingly before moving up.

"See you later." he said, swinging his knife in a playful manner.

You were absolutely paralyzed. You didn't know what happened. You stayed up without moving for whoever say how long. When your legs finally stopped shaking, you decided to look what the killer had gave you. Slowly opening your hand, your knee buckle and you fall to the ground crying silently at the sight of a nip of your friend's hair.

You curled up on yourself before completly laying down on the ground, tightening the hairs in your hand close to your heart. She was not here anymore. You wanted to fucking die.

Ever since, Ethan was forgotten. He had tried to call you so many times you had blocked his number. You spent the rest of the day crying in your hotel's room. You resented him. So hard. He didn't answer, he was the one calling and giving your position to a fucking criminal, to a murderer! And he didn't answer. He didn't help, like everyone else.

One day later, neighbors complained about a smell coming from an apartment. You didn't cry when they found your friend's dead body. You didn't cry when cops came to interrogate you. The caretaker having told them about you. Your eyes contained so much hatred in them when looking at him the cops had to let him leave to get him away from you. You didn't cry telling the cops how many times you went to see them to ask for help, nor how many times did they reject you. You didn't cry when they told you she was dead for at least a week, and that her boyfriend was missing. You had no tears left in you. It had simply ended you.

All your lies, every single one of them, destroyed. But you needed them. Of course you weren't talking to her by text, you never did. And fuck, you don't even want to know who was answering instead of her. It was so obvious how she never wanted to call, how she was never leaving her house. But the eye you saw at the peephole. The fucking eye...

You don't want to think about it.

Ethan tried to talk to you. He went to your hotel and found you. You didn't bother to move this time as you were done with your life. He fell to his knee and started begging and crying for your forgivness. Did you even love him ? Or were you, are you, just lonely ? Unfortunately, you decided to forgot the anger you had against him when you realized he was the only thing you had. Your only support. The only one knowing you were a victim. You spent the days crying in his arms.

"Shhh, shhh, I'm here, love. It's okay." he reassured you, again.

It was a routine, now. You'd sleep the days away and when you'd wake up, you'd find yourself crying inconsolably. Everything was your fault, you kept repeating in your head. She's fucking dead because of you.

You wanted to end it all but Ethan wanted you alive at every cost. He was brushing your hair, feeding, washing and changing you. You were a lifeless doll. Sometimes, his roomate would come and talk to you. Most of the times, you don't even realize he's talking to you, too lost in your thought to proceed his presence.

"It's okay, everything's okay."

Ethan hugs you firmly. Kissing your hairline. His t-shirt was damped. Your eyes were burning. Every time you closed them, the picture of your friend would come and haunt you, a new nightmare coming. You weren't able to think about something else anymore. But it was your fault. You put her in danger, you got her killed. It was you Ghostface wanted, not her. You got her killed.

"I want to leave..." you whispered in a voice so hoarse, so weak, it didn't sound like yours. His hand goes on the back of your head to pull you towards him.

"No, no my love. It's okay. I'll protect you. You won't be alone anymore." his leg goes over yours and crushes them to prevents you from moving.

Alone.

Have you ever been alone in your life ? No, he was here all along. He was watching you all along. You never were truly alone. He had your adress, your friend's adress, your number and even Ethan's name. No, he's always here. Lurking.

"Just... Stay with me, I'll protect you. Please, don't leave me." he begs.

He looked calm, surprisingly calm being given the situation. But you needed it, in a way. If he doesn't freak out, you don't need to. (you coudn't, even if you wanted to) He probably know what to do. It was too late for you but he could do something. Maybe. His behaviour was slightly comforting. It was dangerous, mostly for him. He probably didn't even know what he was doing, he probably didn't know what he was getting himself into, in fact.

But once, just for once, you wanted to be helped. You wanted someone to listen to your pleas. He was going to die, it was a fact. And yeah, maybe you were selfish, you were condamning him after all.

"I feel like I'm using you. Like I manipulated you. you say, mostly for your own conscience than for his safety.

-Use me, love. I don't care. Manipulate me, whatever. I swore I'd help you. And if I have to risk my life doing it, I'll do it. I love you. You don't know the things I'd do for you.

-Now, you're the one manipulating me...

It was true. He was forcing you to think you had a chance in getting out of this situation when you knew there were none.

-Oh baby, you have no idea how manipulative I can be to obtain what I want.

-If you say so." you whisper, drifting to sleep once again, knowing you'd wake up hours later in the same position, in the same problem and knowing you killed your friend.

#ethan landry #ethan landry imagine #yandere ethan landry #ethan landry x gn reader #yandere imagine #yandere ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x reader #yandere #yandere boy #yandere x reader #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x y/n #vitzi9writings

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wendiglow · 2 months

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I started this drawing in December, burned out, but I liked where it was going. Frankly it's been too long and I don't have the drive to do it justice. Let's pretend I didn't do really lazy shading to finish it and call it a day. Not enough time has passed for a redraw yet, but it's definitely getting a redraw. Maybe next year.

Anyway, here are my oldest and still active OCs, Kano and Zad! (There is a third character as well, named, Randall and they make a trio. He's just as important, just didn't have the patience to add him.)

Kano is a pre war robot that was part of a RobCo line commissioned by Vault Tec to be distributed into various vaults to fill in roles where humans were lacking (such a teacher, doctor, parent etc.). The bombs fell and they never made it post production. I made Kano quite a while before Fallout 4 or institute synths were a thing, so he's not affiliated with the institute lore wise.

I was 9 when I first played Fallout 3 and made Kano, and naturally I was excited at the choice of hair color as any little kid would. The pink hair became so integral to Kano's character, I couldn't change it. When he was first made, his hair was blonde like the rest of the robots in his line. It turned pink over the couple hundred years from being exposed to various chemicals ( I love using shitty Sci fi logic to justify my choices lol).

I'm in my early 20s now, and these characters have grown up with me. I have PLENTY of Fallout characters as Fallout is my one true love, so I'm sure you'll be seeing them again!

Here's an old drawing of Randall (lowkey looking yassified the fuck), since it's strange to show Kano and Zad without him.

P.S. I had Sticky with me when I was trying to take this screenshot for the picture, and he wouldn't shut up.

#character art #oc #apocalypse oc #fallout oc #fallout #Fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghoul #Robot #Synth #original character #my art #digital art #I have like 19 fallout ocs #You'll see them all eventually #Maybe

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theroseiswithoutawherefor · 4 months

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Well, first of all, I have to thank @yridenergyridenergy for selling me the ticket! It was literally the best experience I had throughout the year; I really, really, sincerely appreciate it.

As promised, this is my repo of the gig in Wakayama. To be honest, I’m really a bad recorder as I can only recall the sensation or vibe in general and forget the details every time. Am I the only one?? Anyway, I guess my drawings may not be precise at all and it would be more like a summary of the year.

And this repo will be focusing on Kaoru, Toshiya and Kyo. I’m sorry but I stood on the left in both times.

Kaoru

It’s so strange that I can easily feel my love for him grows with time and what a coincidence! I visited them twice this year and I was right in front of him every time. I always assumed that I would be in front of Toshiya when I checked the hall map in December, but no! It was Kaoru again! It kinda shocked me the time I located my seat and noticed his microphone stand was there, just about 2 meters away.

I think probably it has been known by all of you, the show started with a semi-transparent screen showing some AI-generated footage(sorry, I hate this part). It covered most of the setting but just revealed some shadows. I could only see Kaoru, his side profile, priest-alike gown and silver hair. He looked so focused and indifferent and so good-looking…my hands are still sweating as I recall it now.

That was my first time listening to Rinkaku on-site. I got caught up in emotion when you could easily compare themselves in reality and their sketches in the video. You could see how much they have changed and it also just reminded me a lot of moments, staying at home and staring them on the screen. The real vs the virtual.

Also, at the beginning from the distance, I could only see some sort of marks on his chin that looked pretty much like piercings? It turned out to be his makeup; so brilliant.

Kyo

I didn’t see Kyo that much this time, but I feel he is that kind of vocal that you would fall in love with once you’ve actually seen him in the venue. He looked so nostalgic to me this time, maybe bc of the ghost face makeup or the fact that I have seen him too much this year. I also went to HK for sukekiyo this year.

The gig of sukekiyo was more emotional, floating and spacey (and less aggressive, obviously). Kyo’s dedication was so contagious. Although he looked a little bit nervous at the beginning of the Day1, forgetting the lyrics now and then lol.

It is interesting to see the similarities and differences between Diru and Sukekiyo, like looking at different reflections of the same mirror.

Btw probably he is the most inspiring Diru member to me I guess. Idk why drawing kyo always begins with a pretty satisfying draft then it becomes a big challenge to my expertise and patience ahhhh. But yeah, I can improve a lot after finishing it. So, kyo, thx? lol

Toshiya

I’m not quite a fan of his white outfit that day(the one worn in the pic of their tweet on 16th Dec). Actually I even failed to recognize him the first, waistcoat and palazzo trouser are ok but definitely not the most stunning look of him. It seems that his style is becoming more gender-neutral this year, with hair dyed brown, pearl jewelries and feminine makeup.

But I still quite enjoyed his performance, his body language was so beautiful (ugh! It’s such a shame that I can’t recreate it)and he was the first one going to the left terrace and saying hi to everyone. Toshiya is always the sweetest person in Diru to me.

I prefer his encore look more and he took off the shirt and threw it to the gift right in front of him

（and a random sketch）

That’s it! I could have drawn more but, sorry I’m a perfectionist, these pics really took me some time, but I may keep going if I have spare time.

And I’m not used to talking so much on the Internet, it is embarrassing somehow.

The year of 2023 has treated me rly good, I hope it would be the same for all of you and Diru members, see you next year.

#dir en grey #sukekiyo #kaoru #kyo #toshiya #A repo? maybe?

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dand-elle-ion · 2 years

Text

Touch starved

In which you’ve been too busy lately and it’s been annoying the fuck out of him.

With: Scaramouche

Warnings: Cursing, making out, not-so-sfw-ish

Note: Reader is gender neutral as usual, enjoy!

Masterlist + Taglist

Scaramouche is pissed - to say it quite plainly.

Unfortunately, this has been very much to the chagrin of his subordinates who have noticed the change in his mood and behaviour over the last couple of weeks, and who have also happened to be the main victims of his outbursts.

The Harbinger’s usual harsh, rough, and cold demeanour could now only be described as icy and utterly ruthless. It has gone as bad as to not even rumours being dared to spread around, too afraid of consequences that might await or limbs that will be missing should The Balladeer get wind of them.

And still, whispers on the street live by and speak about different and most preposterous reasons behind the drastic changes, while merely a hand full of them manage to grasp a spark of the truth. As the truth is actually quite simple, one might even say ‘obvious’:

You.

You have been the reason for all of this strange behaviour he’s been displaying lately.

Perhaps it is simply his pride that’s been bruised. How come, some nonsensical pieces of paper and files deserve more of your attention than he does?

Whatever it might be, this – this project, special task, hell, maybe even a secret plan of mutiny, that’s been keeping you away, locked in your little room and working meticulously day in and day out – Scaramouche despises it with his whole being.

Not ever, not even once would he admit these sentiments, neither to himself and especially not to any living soul in this forsaken world. The nagging on his nerves has become simply intolerable.

But whatever the real excuses and explanations are that Scaramouche’s created in his mind, it is undeniable – your presence is missing.

And it’s driving him insane.

So, one night after his patience has reached its end, Scaramouche withdraws into your shared rooms, only to find you – as usual – entrenched in your little corner, surrounded by tons and tons of paper, books and files.

Regarding the scenery with a look of utter disgust, he leans his back against the door frame and crosses his arms. Enough is enough. "And how long is this supposed to continue – if I might ask?”

You even have the audacity to look surprised when you dart your head up. “Oh, hey. Thanks, my day was fine, how was yours?”

Scaramouche is not the one to join your little games, not right now at least. Instead, his eyes are sharp when they meet yours, quiet and deadly.

Not exactly intimidated, but also not exactly open to any of his antics right now, you choose to simply return to your work again. It’s not too much left anymore and then this shit of a task will finally, finally be over.

You hear his footsteps drawing closer before one hand propped down upon the files, blocking your view, and now basically forcing you to look back up.

Scaramouche's face is now very close to you. He is still not saying anything, but he doesn’t need to. Violet eyes nearly burning holes into you, his lips pressed into a thin line – he is saying enough. Plus, you already know what his problem is anyway. It also happens to be your own.

You shake your head, suppressing a defeated sigh. “I promise, I only need a couple of more days and I’ll be finish-“

“Bullshit,” he interrupts you. “You’ve been bringing this shitty excuse for weeks already.”

He was right, obviously.

It’s not exactly a walk in the park to be in a relationship with Scaramouche. Neither your field of work nor having this relationship with a higher-up–Harbinger out of all. Your ‘work time’ and your ‘free time’ rarely overlap, and often, if not most it ends with both of you sleeping in lonely beds.

While you might not have the same level of responsibilities and influence as him, being in a way lower position work and struggles seem to double for you.

So, when fate gifted you the precious possibility of promotion – thus more flexible schedules and moving upwards the scale – one can bet their ass you took it.

Even if it meant to be stuck for weeks on the same thing, the same assignment you’ve been managing and improving on; even if that absolutely diminishes any possibility of time for anything else, let alone some intimacy with a certain Fatui Harbinger.

“It will be faster if you wouldn’t block my view.”

You hear him hiss something under his breath you couldn’t quite grasp, but he still removed his hand from your desk. While you focus back on your work, adding some concept plans here and there, Scaramouche walks over to your other side.

Because, naturally, you must be a fool to really believe he’d just give in like that.

And the next thing you sense is his breath very close to your ear. “Do not tempt me, y/n.”

Shivers run down your spine and still, you (pretend to) remain focused on the sheets in front of you. Because, Archons, of course, you’ve been yearning for his presence as well, of course, you don’t take too much joy in your works, of course, you know how easy it would be to just …give in.

Suddenly his lips graze the soft spot just below your ear, then wander forth to your jaw, making your breath hitch. And slowly, ever so slowly he travels down your neck, clearly taking his sweet time.

You nearly lose hold of your pen.

“Stop that…,” you manage to mutter. “You’re distracting me.”

Scaramouche chuckles darkly. “Good.”

Vehemently you shut the book close and raise from your seat in one single movement. You regard him with some intense look on your own, switching between his oh-so-sure-of-himself-eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches for a second as if he knew exactly what you are thinking; and that right there is your final straw before you grab his face with both of your hands, pulling him close to you and press a lingering kiss onto his lips.

You let it last longer than you’ve actually intended to; partially for the better effect and also because you just don’t want to let go at all.

But you do draw back, eyebrows furrowed, and heart rate sped up. “There. Satisfied now?”

In a nearly mocking way, Scaramouche tilts his head, eyes harbouring a dangerous glimmer.

“No.”

Your breath hitches as he bends down again, lips hovering just over yours. His hands slide down the side of your neck. “You can do better than that, y/n,” he discloses, cool breath soft against your skin. “You’ve been holed up enough and it’s been annoying the fuck out of me. Enough is enough.”

Any chance of returning back to your work is thrown out of the window the next moment his lips capture yours. Your eyes droop almost immediately, arms sliding around his neck. His hair tickles your fingers as you pull him just a little closer.

Something seems to spur you on, cause you’re already leaning in for another one, and another one. Soon, completely entangled in him.

With his hands roaming down your waist the realisation crashes down on you with whole intensity just how much you’ve been missing this, missing him.

Scaramouche is demanding your whole attention, if not through his words, you could feel it in every movement, every touch and kiss on your lips, your neck, your skin. Demanding, what he’s been craving for so long. And you are not one to deny, neither him nor your own longings.

It’s very clear at this point, that you can totally scrap your work schedule for today, maybe risking falling behind in time and effort. But it is worth it, isn’t it?

“Your mind is elsewhere again,” you hear him whisper against your lips. “I don’t like it.” Scaramouche extends his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

You meet his intense gaze, trying your best to remain at least somewhat composed even as your heart hammers loudly in your ears.

“Forget your stupid work for now,” he demands. His eyes drift to your mouth, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Focus.”

No need to hear it twice you close the remaining distance, giving in completely now.

And as things always are with Scaramouche, he likes to make sure he’s got your whole and utter attention, no room for anything else. It’s only him that is allowed to exist in your world.

His teeth gently or actually not-so-gently nibble on your lower lip, making you slightly gasp, and you feel him smirk into the kiss at the sound. Satisfied with his doings. That bastard.

A burning heat from your lips sprawls up across your whole body; senses filled up by him, and him alone.

Soon you’re aided a few steps backwards, following his hidden intentions, because the Balladeer has -as always – some kind of scheme on his mind. And indeed, the next moment you find yourself lying on the couch, with him hovering above your body with an air of authority.

Completely out of breath and heart hammering strongly against your chest you can’t help but only stare up at him for a few moments in utter silence. Even the lights around him seem to dim, when he looks down at you, eyes hooded and a cocky smile on this pretty face of his.

“Cat got your tongue? Or just liking the view?”

You only shake your head, huffing at his familiar disdain. You pull him back down to you, a hand caressing his cheek while his lips find yours once more. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Somebody really did miss me, huh?” you can’t help but tease in between kisses.

You hear him growl a little. “Shut it.”

A quiet chuckle escapes you, but swiftly all possible replays vanish from your mind when his hand finds the hem of your shirt, fingers slip beyond and travel to your waist, cradling the skin there.

It makes you feel dizzy.

Scaramouche brushes his lips against yours, barely touching them. “Well then,” he whispers, a sly grin forming on his mouth. “Might as well show me how much you’ve been missing me.”

That’s always been the thing with Scaramouche. He makes it so, so dangerously easy to just let go and devour into nothing and everything at the same. Losing complete track of time and place.

And effortlessly, without any restraint, you soon find yourself getting carried away.

My links: Masterlist + Taglist

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

i will now go and hide in my own little corner thank you

Taglist:

@sakura-starconch @autheticlina @shy-specter @nejibot @their-favorite-ren @xxfrostiee @yuuki4646 @yuki1s--note

#scaramouche x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fic #scaramouche smut #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche #harbinger x reader #scaramouche x gn reader

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illusioncanthurtme--art · 8 months

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These have been sitting in my inbox for a while, and I want to apologize, because I am a world champion at procrastination. I actually have quite a few asks that I’ve never responded to, and I feel like such an asshole. If you sent an ask and I never responded, PLEASE don’t think I’m ignoring you or I don’t care; I just have this thing where I get distracted very easily and it turns into procrastination. I really cherish all the love jam packed into those tiny little asks.

But these are the most recent ones, and they’re kind of in the same vein. I really should make a narrated process video of some sort one day. I do have something like that on patreon right now, but it’s over a year old, and my process has changed since then. But for now, I’ll try to answer these as best I can!

First of all, thank you!! This ain’t a question but I’ll go on a spiel anyway. I use a dark pencil for outlining, and I try to emphasize deeper/darker areas with both pressure (pressing down harder on the pencil), and overall size of the line/mark/whatever. These spots are typically the upper eyelid, nostrils, corners of mouth, inner ear, bottom/roots of pieces of hair, spots where clothing wrinkles originate, that sort of thing. Oftentimes I’ll emphasize the “underside” of objects or shapes too.

As for time for a drawing, it varies a lot. The lengthiest thing I work on is commissions. The initial light sketch for a comm can actually take a while, depending on the drawing. 2 full characters together requires a lot of planning for the poses and stuff. So I might spend an hour, 2 hours if I’m really struggling, just making the sketch for a 2 full body character drawing. Then I’ll take maybe 5 or 7 hours to do the rest? That’s a guess, I don’t really keep track. Usually I’ll do the sketch one day, and the next day I’ll spend all or most of the work day just finishing the drawing. I consider one of those “a days work”. Hopefully that made sense!

The images of my drawings are clean because I scan them! After I scan them, I do a levels adjustment in photoshop. (I struggle taking pics with my phone, even though it has a nice camera 🥲I don’t think I could ever get close to the way they look now without a scanner)

As for how I make them look clean on paper, I think it’s a combination of two things: the pencil I do the initial sketch with is substantially lighter than the one I outline with. So when I’m outlining/rendering out the drawing, the sketch lines sort of fall back and aren't as noticeable. Secondly, I use a click eraser to erase the sketch lines as I go. And I take my time and use a lot of patience and prioritize neatness/details. This is especially the case with comms. With those I give 110%. For my own personal doodles, I don’t focus on making them as neat, and instead scribble around with my pencil to get the values I want, without fretting over each individual shape to make sure it makes sense.

I hope this answers your questions okay! I really should make some sort of video but I don’t have a lot of time right now. Thank you for your asks and kind words!!

#ask #answered #anon #art process #drawing process

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povlvr · 1 year

Text

2 • Bad For Business | YLGSE

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Baker Reader

Summary: Digesting the news of who Bucky is requires some Yelena, Pizza & wine, meanwhile Bucky gets to work on his plans with the help of his right hand men.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: none I think, angst perhaps, mob business maybe

A/N: Sorry this is late, it was my office Christmas party last night & I hadn’t finished the graphics or description in time.

Graphics by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

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Bucky walked back to the office like the pavement was made of clouds, feeling as light as air, as though his spirit had been lifted to another realm from the encounter with the beautiful baker of his dreams. He needed to be cautious though, if you knew who he really was the welcome he received wouldn’t have been nearly as sweet, a soft little thing like you wouldn’t have been so willing to be alone with him, his reputation was that of a rabid dog not someone who meandered in meadows with little fluffy bunnies.

He had the perfect excuse to see you again, but he needed to make sure of a few things before he did, for your sake he wanted to keep his cards close to his chest & not draw you into this life or the people in it including his closest friends. You were for just him, so to get the information he needed to execute his plan he had to be smart, calculating & as subtle as possible.

‘What’s up boss?’

Bucky cursed the fact that Steve casually walked into his office with not so much as a knock these days especially when he was lost in thought, yes, they had been life long friends, but it paid dividends to not startle a man with a gun in this business. Sam was hot on his tail & offered his boss a quiet apology for the intrusion, if Bucky was the brains of the organisation, Steve was the brawn & Sam was the calm in the storm, he often stopped the two friends from exploding at each other when Bucky demanded patience & calculated moves, but Steve wanted to cause mayhem.

As if on cue the intercom sounded & his too dumb for words secretary Chanel drawled through the speaker, ‘Mr Barneeeeessss, Mr Rogers & Mr Wilson are here to see yooouuuu.’

‘Yeah got that already Chanel, thanks’ he rolled his eyes as he closed the laptop screen in front of him, he had spent the last hour glued to it trying to find your social media or anything about you online, he only managed to find your business account & drooled at some of the creations showcased on there, already sending through a request for Chanel to order a breakfast buffet for his staff at the end of the week.

Bucky remained seated behind his oversized mahogany desk, he hadn’t changed much of the space he inherited from his father George, it remained a sore point & although yes, it looked like it was taken directly from the set of Goodfellas he just wasn’t ready to update the décor to match the rest of the modern sleek office. He gestured to the two leather armchairs facing him, ‘Gentlemen, take a seat.’

Steve looked nervous fiddling with the buttons on his suit as he looked around the desk & office actively avoiding Bucky’s eye contact, ‘If this is about Peter, I told you we found the shipment & he’s officially been banned on upgrading any tech before a thorough test has been carried out.’ He swiftly reassured, a rare backtrack for him, usually he would dig his heels in that they had done nothing wrong but seeing the vein in Bucky’s neck almost pop from trying not to blow his lid at the kid made him choose his battle & this wasn’t one he would win.

Bucky casually swiped the air with his hand, ‘Yeah sure, that’s fine.’ Dismissing the fuck up like he wasn’t raging two hours earlier threatening to murder a 17-year-old kid.

Both Sam & Steve looked at him perplexed as to why he let it go so easily, exchanging looks of disbelief, Steve was sure he would have at least a broken finger at the end of this meeting, though he had noticed the expression on his old friends face when he came back to the office, it was soft, wistful almost, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his best friend without a scowl on his face, it must have been a hell of a coffee.

‘I’ve been thinking Gentlemen, we currently hold most of the city & boroughs, once the Stark deal is done I’m looking at investing some funds into legitimate businesses within our territory to funnel our profits into, if we are pleasing uncle Sam it’s easy clean money & the cops won’t be able to touch us.’

‘We own the cops Buck.’ Steve stated like it was a fact, the arrogance of his best friend was no shock, there was no shred of doubt in his mind that he believed that to be true & whilst yes, they could get themselves out of a tight corner with a call to the right person Bucky knew better than to accept that the status quo would always be a constant.

‘For now, but who’s to say a new commissioner wont fuck with us or a fresh-faced naïve politician being elected thinking they can clean up the streets of organised crime.’

Steve raised a brow at this turn of events, sure Bucky always kept them on their toes, but this was completely out of the left field, ‘You thinkin’ of going straight Buck?’

He scoffed at the mere thought, ‘Never Punk, but having clean money will make expansion easier further down the road & less questions will be asked as to where we acquired the funds. We won’t just run the city when I’m done, we’ll own it all too.’

Sam had been silently observing the notoriously savvy business man from the moment he let the shipping incident go, he relished in breaking bones to assert his leadership over his associates even if they belonged to his best friend, so to do a 180 was completely out of character. Bucky always had his own reasons behind business decisions, especially when he only gave a face value justification, Sam always knew when there was a card close to his chest he wasn’t willing to share until the time was right, all he could do was get on with it until it came to light, ‘So whaddya need from us?’

‘I need you to put in the ground work to vet some existing business’ I can invest in; the top of Grand Street in Williamsburg looks a good place to start. Small laundry business’, cafes, high turnover cash transactional businesses are the target. Gather all the accounts info, details of the owners, their social security down to their family tree, I want to know what they had for lunch yesterday if necessary. I don’t want any bad eggs, these people need to be 100% clean, not so much as a parking ticket, understand?’

They both nodded in unison with Sam taking notes down in his pad as to what needed to be done, he figured the kid could prove himself useful with his hacking skills & hopefully they wouldn’t have to work solidly for the next 24 hours if most of it could be done on a computer.

‘Get me the information by close of business tomorrow.’ With a firm nod Steve made a quick exit, he’d dodged the pervebeal bullet & didn’t want to chance it putting his foot it in further, Sam however remained seated.

‘What brought this on Bucky?’ He lifted his brows, Steve may have been his life long friend, but Sam was his closest confidant & sounding board, often trusting him with information that he wouldn’t with Steve.

‘During my forced exile to calm down, I got a coffee at a bakery, as I sat there I noticed the foot traffic, the cash swapping hands & it just came to me. Legitimising part of our operation & laundering the cash through them will help our long-term survival.’

‘Just came to you, huh? I thought you would have got your coffee to go & marched straight back to break some limbs.’

‘Normally I would but I was particularly irritated Samuel, so I decided to stick around to stop myself murdering a child.’

‘Hmmm so being in a crowded bakery helped you calm down? You, the guy who has a staring problem & whose favourite sound is silence?’ He sat back on his chair with his arms folded, Bucky didn’t fail to notice the smug smile plastered on his face as if he had solved some giant clue.

‘It was quiet, actually … & silence isn’t my favourite sound.’ He wouldn’t admit to his friend that it was now the sound of your warm voice.

‘So, do you want to tell me why you really stuck around or why you don’t look quite as menacing as you usually do? Something clearly happened, since when do you drop something so easily without breaking a finger or two?’

‘I’m clearly maturing & not resorting to violence in the first instance.’

Sam’s forced fake laughter bristled Bucky no end but in fairness he did sound like he had a brain injury from his usual demeanour of break bones first ask questions later.

‘Yeah I’m not buying that for a second, ok you’re keeping it to yourself, I respect that, but I’m sure at some point you’ll need some advice so I’m here If you need it.’

‘Just get me that information & we’ll see about the rest Samuel.’

A nod from Bucky told Sam that the conversation was over, he got to his feet & returned the gesture ‘Will do Boss’ turning on his heel he made his way back to his desk leaving the mob boss sat behind his desk to contemplate his morning.

Once he had the office to himself he let out a relieved sigh that his plans were in motion, he knew Steve wouldn’t ask questions, he never did & took everything Bucky asked him to do at face value. Sam, however, never missed a trick & knew there was more to his request than met the eye, thankfully he knew better than to pry further.

He would confide in Sam when he had all the intel, he was pissed off at himself for giving them so much time, he wanted to see you in the morning, hell, he’d march straight back to your bakery & wait until you closed so he could have you all to himself without any more disturbances. Usually he was the patient one, it was being tested to the max because all his mind seemed to do throughout the rest of the day was find its way back to you.

You had sat perched on the stairs hunched over with your head between your legs for a good 10 minutes whilst Yelena dealt with the line of customers that had gathered during your freak out. Your mind was swirling, running through your interaction with the Mob Boss, trying to block out the butterflies in your stomach clouding your memory by going through the things you said to him, then coming up with worst case scenarios of how he could have interpreted them & then convincing yourself you were now a target of the mob because you didn’t kiss his ring when you met him or some ridiculous custom that would have been expected of you. You had been so careful to stay away from them your entire life & then just like that the leader landed on your doorstop, flirted with you & then promised to return, he was bad for business. You were utterly fucked.

Knowing you had come face to face with the King of Brooklyn & actually enjoyed his company & even worse, wanted more of it made you revaluate your preconceived notions of how a mob boss acted & what they looked like. You also needed to address why you felt completely safe alone with the man, if all it took was sweet nicknames & them being easy on the eyes then you were a complete fool, surely there should have been signs that he was dangerous? The realisation that he was probably responsible for countless murders made you shudder in your spot but in truth you felt like no harm could come to you in his presence.

You managed to silence the overwhelming panic by thinking logically; he clearly wasn’t interested in hurting you & from all the flirting he was doing you figured it was more the opposite but was that worse? No, he wasn’t interested in hurting you, that’s all that mattered & by repeating that in your head whilst trying not to focus on how beautiful he was or think about getting lost in those ocean blue eyes you managed to calm yourself down somewhat. The residual feeling of dread however, you were stuck with, he had promised to return, that meant you now had to face him knowing his occupation & trying to reject his advances without ending up face down in the Hudson.

With a few deep breaths you rose to your feet, dusted your apron down & headed back out front to face the world, Yelena didn’t need to be dealing with you having a meltdown on top of taking peak time all on her own, the girl deserved a pay rise at the very least. Returning to the counter with a reassuring nod in her direction you were fully focused on doing what you did best, serving customers & brightening everyone’s day with your baked treats.

You finally flipped the sign to close for the day & let out a sigh of relief, one thing you could always count on was the bakery being so busy that it occupied all of your thoughts as you tackled the line of customers that at some points felt never ending, unfortunately you had the whole night in your apartment to spiral & overthink your impending visit from the man who was now a permanent fixture in your mind. You contemplated spending the evening prepping days’ worth of pastries & crashing in your father’s old apartment above the bakery that had been gathering dust, but that would leave you the rest of the week without anything to occupy your time, maybe you could finally work on clearing the upstairs out to finally renovate the space. Or not.

You decided on a moderate amount of prepping, enough for a couple of days but not to the point of leaving yourself nothing to do, Yelena caught you pacing the kitchen with your pad & pen interrupting the forward planning session currently taking place in your head.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ you looked over to her wiggling her eye brows at you.

She managed to pull a small smile from you to relieve a bit of your anxious energy, you blew out dramatically half laughing at the ridiculous situation you found yourself in, ‘You’d need a bank vault to afford them all Lena.’

‘How about you, me & a bottle of wine spend the night on your couch & we can go through it all before you wear a hole in the floor?’

Immediately halting your worn path you realised it was just what you needed, ‘That sounds really great actually.’

‘I’ll bring the wine.’

You shook your head, you knew you had a few bottles at home that needed drinking & there was no way you were letting your employee spend money trying to walk you through this predicament. ‘Absolutely not! My crisis my wine!’

For once she relented, ‘Fine, I’ll pick up a pizza.’

‘Deal.’ You’d add it to her next wage packet, you knew she never checked the slip so could get away with adding a pizza under the radar.

Usually you would feel utterly relieved once you crossed the threshold of your apartment each night, despite your somewhat noisy neighbour it was a serene escape compared to the bakery, you rarely make plans after your workday due to the sheer exhaustion of being on your feet all day, but an impromptu night with Yelena wasn’t ever declined especially when you didn’t have to get dressed up & go to a bar. You had managed to finish all the batches of prep, plus the extra needed for a big order that came in late for an office buffet so were dead on your feet arriving home.

In an attempt to ease some of the racked-up tension you decided to take a prolonged extra hot shower, focusing the jet of water onto your shoulders in lieu of a massage you would definitely appreciate after your day. You scrubbed & polished yourself to within an inch of your life before drying off & slipping into the navy cashmere loungewear set you had spent far too much money on in a ‘fuck it’ retail moment. Seeing the transaction on your bank statement on the Monday knocked you slightly queasy but as soon as you felt the softness against your smooth skin you concluded they were definitely worth every cent.

Knowing Yelena was due anytime you busied yourself around your home, watering plants, picking up laundry, putting back the various baking books on your ridiculously tall book shelf you were taking inspiration from the previous night until your buzzer sounded.

You pressed the button & could hear the stomping before you saw her, she appeared at your door, accompanied by apparently the world’s biggest pizza, how she managed to get that to your apartment & up the stairs without it going everywhere was a modern-day marvel as far as you were concerned.

You laughed out loud at the sight, ‘You do realise there’s only two of us?’

Her grin was infectious, ‘Can you believe this was a medium?’

You gawped at her statement, ‘Jesus, do they cater to giants?’

‘I bet you $20 I can finish your half & mine.’

You weren’t keen on the idea of her throwing up three quarters of a pizza on your sofa but really wanted to see if she could do it, ‘I’ll take that bet, make yourself at home & I’ll get the plates & wine.’

She shouted through to you in the kitchen as she cleared the space on the coffee table for the ginormous box ‘We up to episode 4?’

‘Yeah should be lined up from last time.’ You yelled back as you loaded the plates, napkins, glasses & bottle onto a tray.

‘Sweet, my girl Sharron for the win.’ In Yelena’s typical fashion she didn’t even wait for a plate & had managed an entire slice in the time it took you to come back to the lounge, where she put it all you’d never know.

‘We were blessed this season, Lattrice Royale, Chad Michaels, Phi Phi, literally the greats’, you made yourself comfortable as you poured out the wine & grabbed yourself some food.

After a delicious slice of pizza roughly the size of your head Yelena’s patience had run out, she paused the Drag Race episode you were enjoying & turned to you ready for a full rendition of the earlier events she had walked in on.

‘That’s enough for you.’ She practically wrestled the second slice out of your hand, throwing it back into the box.

‘Hey, I was eating that.’

‘No, I want to know what happened today.’

‘I can eat & tell you.’

‘No, you can’t. You never talk & eat, you chew & hold a finger up & don’t say a word until all the food is eaten. Come on, tell me now, eat after.’

‘True, ok, fine.’

You dabbed the corners of your mouth with a napkin & began telling her about your encounter with the mob boss, for the most part she stayed surprisingly quiet with the occasional question & although you wanted to omit the nicknames & warm words he said to you, you thought it would be better to give her the entire picture. The smile you were battling throughout managed to escape on occasion, but you kept it tight lipped for the most part, you couldn’t help the swirling butterflies when you told her about the wink.

‘How did it make you feel?’ The one thing you hadn’t expected from your little firecracker of a friend was for her to ask you about feelings, most people thought she was cold, ‘dead behind the eyes’ was one of Scott’s favourite things to note, being terrified of her as he was, but you always insisted she was incredibly warm & friendly.

You let out a long sigh, ‘hmmm, honestly? It felt nice, nice to have some attention from a guy who, let’s face it is smoking hot.’

‘Yeah, I’ll give him that, completely your type too.’

‘I know, right?’

She narrowed her eyes at you sensing more, ‘hmm, come on, what else?’

‘Stupidly enough, he made me feel completely safe, which is so dumb because I’ve spent my whole life not trusting strange men, not letting down my guard but I felt like I could with him & that no harm would come to me … that is until you told me who he was & now I feel even dumber for letting a pretty face completely eradicate all my instincts.’

You could see her thinking behind the understanding smile on her face, ‘I think your instincts are just fine, from what I have been told, yes he’s dangerous & you shouldn’t get involved in that world, but he is very protective of those he loves or are loyal to him.’

You took a big sip of wine to swallow those words, they really didn’t help the conflict brewing in your head, ‘And how would you come across this kind of information?’

‘My sister Nat, she’s involved in all that. I don’t speak to her very often, I didn’t want to get tangled in that life but after seeing him & especially after seeing him being clearly into you I rang her & asked about him.’

You hated yourself for wanting to know more about him, you shouldn’t, you should run in the complete opposite direction & not look back, he’s a dangerous man, an incredibly hot, rich, dangerous man. Maybe knowing more would be the nail in the coffin you needed to not get involved.

‘What exactly did she say?’

‘Not much, I kept my questions vague.’

‘And?’ You sounded hopeful, like she was about to say he had a heart of gold & to go for it.

‘Exactly what I said, don’t get involved.’ The sternness in your voice told you she knew more but wasn’t sharing.

‘I know. It’s just …’

She curtly cut you off, ‘Just what?’

‘He was so hot & interested, apparently that’s all it takes to question my morals & sanity.’

‘Honey, if you want hot & interested all we need to do is go to a club. Your hot little backside will have all the men you want lined up, no morals need to be tested.’

The line could have been as long as the Brooklyn bridge for all you cared, there was only one you were remotely interested in … god damn it.

The next day passed at a snail’s pace & all Bucky could think about was you in your bakery, hair in a bun & a sprinkle of flour on your cheek that he would dust off with a brush of his thumb before tasting the honey on your lips, he wondered if you were thinking about him too, hoping he would come through the door. He didn’t dare ask himself why one sample of your sweetness had him addicted.

Steve & Sam had been droning on for an hour about a Mr Rafino, the owner of the laundrette at the top of Grand Street, his accounts were clean as a whistle & he was an upstanding member of the community, it quietly comforted the mob boss that you apparently had good people surrounding you, but all Bucky wanted to hear about was you, he knew demanding your information first would have been an obvious tell, even for Steve to cotton on to. He half-heartedly flicked through the print outs, despite his plan being half thought out purely in an effort to save face & garner information about you, it actually made sense from a business perspective & the more he heard about these small business’ the more he was considering going ahead with investing in them all.

‘Ok finally at the very top of Grand Street, Honey Bunny’s Bakery.’

It was like Sam intentionally kept you until last trying his patience to its ultimate limit, Bucky tried not to sit up straighter at the mention of your bakery or intensely study the clipped together dossier they had been working on.

‘Now this is the money maker on the street, prime location, the accounts are very impressive, no rent or mortgage so overheads are minimal, running costs & cost of sales are the main outgoings as you would expect. Owner takes a minimal salary, does her own books, marketing, pretty much everything in house & has one employee, so wages relatively low to turnover. Speaking of turnover this place makes a killing, the sales are high relative to the size of the operation & although it is susceptible to poaching from rivals the customers tend to stay loyal.’

Bucky nodded along trying not to smile at how savvy you were at running your business but with only one employee he knew you were likely working all hours to keep things running as smoothly as you did, if you accepted his business offer he would make sure you employed more staff to take a break, maybe he could steal you away, fly to Paris to taste some of the world you recreate in your bakery each day, walk the banks of the Seine hand in hand & explore the Louvre to admire the paintings & sculptures, all whilst knowing he had the real masterpiece wrapped in his arms.

‘As for the owner, like the rest of the street not so much as a traffic violation on record, no police record whatsoever. She is an active member in the community, raises money for local women’s shelters, organised street parties, marches for race, women’s rights, gun reforms. Donates all her unsold goods to the local hospital each night, hand delivers them to a nurse who she knows down there for the staff & patients. ‘

An angel, just as he thought you would be, he knew what he needed to do; formulate a business plan tonight, go to the bakery in the morning & invite you for a meeting to discuss his plan. He would impress you with the office, the plan & as the deal was being done he could spend the time getting to know you, sewing himself into the fabric of your world & then you would be his.

‘Do you think these people would want investment from the Mob? They are clearly law-abiding citizens, why would they be interested in getting into bed with the bad guys.’

Why Steve decided to use that phrase Bucky didn’t know but he was a hairs breath away from having his head slammed into the sold wooden desk they were sat around, his jaw was creaking it was tensed that intensely.

‘He has a point; do you really want to potentially ruin their reputations & livelihood because you want to make clean money? They seem good people, maybe we’re best staying away & go about this differently.’

Of course, he wouldn’t be funnelling anything into your business that was illegal, yours would be a real investment, there wasn’t a chance in hell he would taint you in any way with laundering cash, he could see the potential of you & your bakery & would offer you the opportunity.

‘Well we’re not exactly going in with the horse’s head approach, it can be done subtly, we can set up a holding company to invest rather than go direct. They aren’t then directly associated with us & their reputations remain intact, we take over the business operation & not the day to day running, we can do all the laundering away from the premises on the books & through banking deposits & they can plead innocence if anything went wrong.’

‘Hmm It’s your call.’ Sam sounded sceptical but if the business’ said no he didn’t care, they would go about it the old-fashioned way if they had to threaten them & take over the whole business instead, your answer however would be final.

‘I’ll work my way through all this in more detail then make my decisions, ultimately we will run this completely separately from our real business. I’ll have Thor set up the holding company & funnel some money into it for the time being & then I’ll deal with the investment decisions & proposals to the owners.’

‘You’ll do it?’ Sam was ready to send his friend to a head doctor after all this, Bucky usually made the decision & then everyone else would execute it so for him to want to be this involved was a growing concern.

‘Of course not Samuel, I will work on the proposals & someone else can do the meetings so they aren’t aware of who the investment is from.’

Bucky stood up gathering all the documents in front of him into his leather folio trying to encourage them to leave him in peace, ‘If that’s all gentlemen I have somewhere to be.’

A total lie & Sam looked like he knew that, Bucky just wanted to go home to go over the information about you with a fine-tooth comb ready to pop by your bakery first thing to make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

[Next Chapter]

Tag List: @matchat3a @hallecarey1 @oliverqueen66-blog @broadwaybabe18 @meowmeowyoongles @abaker32 @glows-n-the-dark @barnesml @getofffmydick @omegaevans

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic series #marvel #bucky barnes smut #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob boss #sebastian stan

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kyufessions · 10 months

Text

acknowledgement

genre: fluff, domestic

pairings: boyfriend! jiseok (gaon) x g.n. reader

word count: 0.7k

a/n: been crushing on jiseok pretty heavily recently so here this is ! informal + formal speech is intended

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

xdh taglist: @seokka0o • @tentenharuno • @jisungie-han

patience is key. well, not in jiseok’s book. you told him you’d be done with your essay within two hours, but it’s only fifty minutes in and he’s already whining your name as he mindlessly strums on his guitar strings. he does this every time he wants your attention: calls your name, then once you stop responding after a while he breaks out his trusty acoustic guitar and begins strumming a made up melody and and sings your name over and over to the tune. maybe he’ll add some silly remarks here and there but that’s about it until you give in and give him what he pleases (which is normally cuddles or kisses).

“자기야~” you hear from only a few feet away as your boyfriend sits up on your bed, feet dangling as he swings them back and forth mindlessly with a permanent pout across his lips. “보고싶다~”

you bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to withhold your growing smile, re-reading your essay for any misinformation or spelling as your fingers draw circles on the wooden desktop. “jiseok, baby-“

“aha! acknowledgement!” he yelps happily with a wide grin you can hear from just his voice alone.

you shake your head, still withholding your smile. “i need to focus. please. i’m almost done, anyway.”

for the next half an hour the only sound you can hear is the keyboard and background noise of jiseok playing a game on his PS5 with jooyeon. as you submit your essay quicker than you originally thought you would, you smile happily to yourself as you close the laptop and move out of your desk chair and walk into the living room. jiseok doesn’t notice you right away as he plays, the noise from his headphones being heard as you approach the room and sit on the couch. for a while, you watch him play his game. not knowing anything at all, but still secretly rooting for him.

time passes as you just go between scrolling through tiktok and watching him play whatever game he was immersed in, no attention given to you whatsoever. “damn, is this how he feels?” you mumbled, now being the one with a pout upon your lips. you call his name a few times, but no answer. just him talking loudly about the game to jooyeon.

you decide to get up and sit next to him, your front side facing him as you stare at him. you thought that’d work, but unfortunately it doesn’t. he’s so into the game that he doesn’t realize your presence until you wrap your arms and legs around him. once he feels your legs wrap around your waist is when his eyes widen and he pauses the game, looking over at you with a small grin.

“aha! acknowledgement!” you tease, placing a quick peck on his lips before smiling innocently. “you’re really good at video games.”

“hey jooyeon, we’ll finish this game up later.” he says into the mic of his headphones, quickly closing out of the game and tossing his controller to the side.

you watch as he jumps back into your arms, wrapping himself around you like a koala bear and smothering your face with minuscule, sloppy kisses. “how long were you waiting for me?” he asked between kisses, smiling to himself as he heard your giggles.

“not too long, only twenty minutes.”

he stops mid-kiss to pull away and look at you, frowning dramatically. “why didn’t you stop me sooner?”

you shrug, leaning up to peck the tip of his nose. “you looked like you were having fun, i didn’t want to disturb you.”

jiseok makes a tsk sound with his teeth, shaking his head. he cups your face in his hands as you lay back on the floor, eyes staring at him with stars as you admire his effortless beauty. even like this with his hair a mess from the lazy day you’ve been spending together and his face unshaven, you still feel more in love with him than you would any other day.

“just let me know next time, you can never disturb me.” with a swift nod of your head, he smiles down at you and places a quick kiss to your lips before picking you up bridal style and shuffling down the hall to the bedroom. “now we can cuddle and watch that new show i was telling you about if you want!”

you do nothing but stare at him with your head on his chest, laughing at his excited-like antics. “i’d love to.” you could get used to days like these.

#kyufessions xdh #xdh #xh #xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes fluff #gaon fluff #jiseok fluff

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fallenwhumpee · 4 months

Text

Traitor

• Part 5 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Masterlist •

Warnings: Dysfunctional family.

Later that day, the team was given another mission. They gathered around the dining table as always, with all seats covered— Leader was absent, but Villain was sitting on their place, earning subtle glances.

"Leader should be present in the meeting," Youngest protested. "One of us should get them."

Approving whispers started, but Right Hand straightened, gathering the attention. "I don't think that's a good idea, they seemed—"

"Don't bother. What's the meeting about?"

Leader cut in, the tired look from the previous night gone. They were dressed in basic cargo pants and a shirt, their hair combed. Everything was in order, as always. They looked collected, and they almost succeeded in fooling Right Hand. But Right Hand could see the slightly unfocused eyes, and their posture was just a little slumped. Or Right Hand was too focused and making it all up from their head after seeing Leader down at night.

"We were just reviewing our last mission," Medic emphasised our, since Leader had just disappeared that night and left the team on its own to deal with two missions, but Leader looked like it was not their problem.

That was the reason for the surprised looks on the table. They expected an apology. Maybe an attempt to make it up. Little nice words Leader used sparely but in place. Or maybe just a how are you since they just went for one of the bigger bases straight when the agency decided to take out Whumper's forces. But Leader just sat there, looking at the plans briefly before drawing a basic plan to an empty paper and leaning back with a light cough.

Everyone kept staring at them, but Leader didn't react. When the silence became intolerable, they answered with the same attitude. "And?"

"And we are talking about the next one. We need a solid plan," Youngest snarled with the same tone. "We would appreciate some help."

"I think," Leader straightened, holding their breath for a moment before realising it with a wheeze sounding like huff, "you know how to do it. I'm just here because I have to be present." They turned to Villain. "You'll be staying here. I still couldn't find a safe house, but this is the safest place you can be."

Right Hand didn't like the idea of Villain being alone at their home. Despite telling Youngest to get on well with them, Right Hand just couldn't look past of what had happened.

"And I will be staying with you just in case."

"What?!" They gasped collectively.

"You can't just leave us alone in the field again," Teammate shouted.

"You expect us—" Youngest started, but Leader didn't let them finish the sentence.

"Now you want me in the field," Leader huffed. "For what? I'm there to lead, but you will do as you want anyway. You only need me for the tactics you don't even listen to. I will put my own plan into the report to shake the agency off your collar. Satisfied?" they asked flatly.

Right Hand sucked a deep breath, letting the words sink and sting. The words were heavy enough without a tone, and Right Hand couldn't think about the crushing weight it would have if Leader had spat every word.

"I will leave this to you. I don't have the patience to deal with any of your moods today."

"But—"

"Enough. You will be on your own. Now get prepared, because I won't make an excuse for your absence this time," Leader barked, leaving the table. No one had expected this outburst, and actually hearing Leader raise their voice was unexpected.

With maddening silence, Righ Hand stood up, the noise of the chair cutting through the tension like a knife.

"You heard that; get ready. We will be meeting with the backup in half an hour for the briefing."

With mumbles, the team disbanded, leaving only Right Hand and Villain on the table. They gave Villain a stern look before rushing after Leader.

They reached their superior's door in mere seconds, but muffled coughs and wheezes made them reconsider. It was unusual for Right Hand to have second thoughts about something. They would make up their minds and just do it. They didn't hesitate. And it often helped them reach an end, good or bad.

They knocked on the door.

"Leader?"

Right Hand cursed. They sounded so unsure. Almost shy.

"I said enough, what's so hard about it that everyone fails to understand?"

Right Hand stopped. Maybe it was right to have second thoughts. Leader didn't get angry. Not if the topic was defending someone else. They would just let the team run over them. They had never uttered a word as Right Hand threw up their anger, or never once scoffed when Youngest wanted to be spoiled. Never turned down Teammate's wish for new gear— despite having working ones, never once put a stop to Medic's wish to stop the training or decline missions, even if it was just over a bruised arm.

And they never did more than just talking in a stern tone.

So, that snarl was enough to freeze Right Hand.

They stood there for a while, trying to decide what to do.

"What about you just go away?" Leader shouted as they opened the door. Right Hand didn't know how Leader guessed that they were still there, but they couldn't ask when Leader was towering them.

The dishevelled look on Leader was foreign. Right Hand could see the red eyes now, with dark circles around their eyes and skin pale, shoulders slumped down.

"I—" Right Hand started, now knowing what to say.

"You," Leader growled, "will go and make sure the team doesn't fail. That's your role. Now leave me alone."

With a glare, Leader stepped back and shut the door.

-•-

Villain had been lost. They felt... they didn't know what they felt, but ever since Leader had given them an opportunity to get out of Whumper's base, they were feeling better.

They still felt like they were sitting on a ticking bomb with their family under the protection of the agency, but Villain knew it was mostly Whumper's biased antagonism of them. And the rest was what Villain had observed themselves.

They knew that as a wider entity, agency could do things that might just not be ethical. They actually didn't believe that the agency could get as brutal as Whumper anyway. But Villain thought they were safe because they were under Leader's protection, who held some strict ideas about how the things were supposed to go.

And they believed when Leader said their family was going to be safe.

Perhaps, Villain's trust was based on something else. Based on something awful Whumper - and to an extent, Villain - had done. Just thinking about it was enough to turn Villain a sobbing mess, but they had to hold themselves together. The team, thought slowly, was forgiving them. Even if Villain didn't think they deserved the mercy.

And they never asked for that forgiveness. They didn't deserve to ask. Even after everything Villain had done to the team, to Leader specifically behind the closed door of the 'interrogation' room, they were almost welcomed.

Now, sitting in their once enemy's living room, they felt alone. Alone with their own thoughts. And they didn't like where their thoughts were going.

Villain stood up, walking to Leader's door.

Villain hesitated outside, their hand hovering in the air. Despite their past, Leader had given Villain a chance, an opportunity to escape from Whumper.

Summoning the courage to knock, Villain rapped gently on the door, unsure of what response to expect. They half-expected Leader to shut them down, yet there was a flicker of hope that Leader would just help them again.

Because they desperately needed a saving again. This time from their own mind.

The door creaked open, revealing Leader's weary face. Red-rimmed eyes just stared at Villain, empty.

"Did something happen?" Leader asked softly. Villain had heard that tone often when one of the team had been injured by Whumper— or Villain. It carried the genuine concern Villain didn't deserve.

Villain swallowed hard, the lump in their throat making it difficult to speak. The sincerity in Leader's question was something they hadn't felt in ages.

"N-no," they stuttered. But they panicked when Leader attempted to close the door. "I... I wanted to talk. If you have a moment," Villain mumbled, avoiding eye contact. Leader's expression softened slightly, a hint of curiosity replacing the weariness momentarily.

"Look, I know I've done terrible things, and I don't expect you or anyone else to forgive me easily. But you gave me a chance, and I... I want to understand. Why? Why did you help me?" Villain admitted, their voice shaky. They just needed to hear it. Hear it to know it was real.

"You were protecting your family. And that is enough to deserve that chance. I couldn't stand to see another family crumbling."

Villain bowed their head. But the words haunted them. Another family. They wanted to ask that, but Leader stepped out of their room, motioning the other side of the corridor.

"This is best talked over a meal, I believe."

Leader's invitation caught Villain off guard. The suggestion of sharing a meal seemed almost normal, an everyday occurrence that opposed to everything.

Villain realised they hadn't eaten the lunch yet.

Leader prepared a basic meal, and Villain just watched them in silence. They couldn't bear to look at stiff and slow movements. It reminded too much of that time when the team was at their mercy— which they just didn't want to remember. The silence was only broken by Leader's occasional coughs and clatter or the tools.

Then they sat across each other, and Villain waited.

"When you have a family, you do everything for them," Leader started. "You endure. You live for them. You hope it gets you a good ending. And if I have the power to give you a good ending, I have to give you it, that's my responsibility as a human being."

Villain shrunk, playing with their food s little before swallowing harshly.

"And it's just the matter of time I get you and your family to a safe place, so don't worry. You will see them soon."

"I..." Villain breathed. "I don't want to see them."

Leader looked surprised for a moment before nodding them to continue.

"I don't think they will... approve what I did. It's better if I stay away."

"I understand," Leader said finally.

"How do you go on?" Villain asked, their voice cracking when they realised they overstepped. They tried to fix it. "I-I mean they don't—" They stopped themselves before they messed up further.

Leader looked to the plate they hadn't touched for a moment before turning to Villain.

"They don't see me as a family. But let me tell it in another way. If you went to your family, and they refused you, would you still love them?"

Villain didn't need to answer.

#whump #whump writing #leader whumpee #leader whump #dysfunctional family

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reasonsmandy · 10 months

Text

You're sleeping over

Karen Sirko x Reader

✧.* requested by anon — could you do prompt 9 with karen sirko?? 🫶🫶

✧.* summary — You are spending an afternoon with your date, teaching her different ways of painting. And she thinks it's adorable the way you talk about what you love.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 1.6k

✧.* 🎹 — Karen Sirko's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — hey my loves, how are you? I'm finally on vacation so feel free to ask me anything you want in the asks.

"This is impossible!" She exclaims dropping the brushes on her table, you let out a laugh letting your hair fall in your face. "How do you have the patience for that?"

Karen was sitting in your studio chair, a few days ago you had agreed to spend the afternoon together on her week off and there she was at your house watching you finish your orders for the week. You couldn't help but notice her disheveled hair that gave her a differentiated charm that only she kept, the way her mysterious presence was broken just with you made you feel unique in the world.

It's been a few months since you were something, something as good and natural as the instinct to look for air after leaving the womb, you connected so lightly and instinctively that moments like this were just right. You were staring at the details that drew the features of her face for a long time, but you didn't care, you wanted to capture every fraction next to her in your memory.

"I wonder if you're staring at me because you think I'm a disaster in this, or for other reasons." Her accent made your body shiver, you rest your face in one of your hands, opening a smile.

"You're not a disaster." You say, she arches her eyebrows lifting your drawing and you can't contain your laughter. "Okay, maybe you need a little more practice."

"That's why I'm a musician, my talent is for the keyboard and that's all." She shrugs letting her body relax completely into the chair.

"You're the kind of person who can be amazing at anything you put your mind to Karen." You comment and see her blush, pride grows within you when you see that you managed to cause this in her. "Trust me, get a new canvas, I'll walk you through it step by step."

She considers giving up but the smile that grows on your face at the thought is an undeniable request. She gets up and goes to the stock of white canvases you have in the corner of the studio, the dark brown walls of the place are painted with distinctive flowers and the easels are decorated with different themes.There is your refuge, your peaceful place where you recharge your strength when everything seems too much, and having her there was like the combination of everything you loved the most.

Karen brings the canvas and places it on the easel she had been using until then, you get up going to her with your apron in hand.

"Can I put it on you?" You question, Sirko lifts your blonde hair giving you access to do what you want. So you do.

She turns to you and kisses your lips, you place your hands on her waist feeling the wonderful sensations she brings you just by being close. You rest your forehead on hers and then go to your easel ready to give her instructions.

"Okay cutie, I'm ready." She says, popping her neck and preparing paints beside her.

As you gather an array of paint tubes in different colors, you turn to Karen with a mischievous smile. "Alright, Karen, get ready for some magical color alchemy! We're going to mix colors like wizards brewing potions."

Karen chuckles, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "I'm ready to become a color magician!"

You demonstrate how to squeeze a bit of red and yellow paint onto the palette, blending them together to create a vibrant orange. "See how these colors dance together to create a whole new shade? I love replicating the vivid colors on canvas and I get so happy when I can mix and match perfectly. Now it's your turn, how about mixing these two?"

Karen carefully follows your lead, her brows furrowing in concentration. "So, I mix these two colors?" She questions you, you nod, and she watches you closely mimicking what you do. "Babes! I got it, look." She turns the canva towards you with pride in her eyes.

You applaud her with a grin. "Bravo! I told you that you could do it. Now, let's go to the next step!"

With an assortment of brushes in hand, you show Karen different brush techniques, from soft strokes to bold ones. "Okay, Karen, let's unleash our inner brush whisperers! We'll paint with confidence and let the brushes do the talking."

Karen giggles, taking a wide brush in her hand. "I feel like I have a secret weapon now!"

You guide her through various brush movements, demonstrating how to create texture and expressiveness. "Now, try making short, feathery strokes. Let the brush dance lightly across the canvas, adding a touch of magic to your artwork."

Karen experiments, her strokes becoming more confident with each attempt. "Oh, I like how this feels! It's like my painting is coming to life."

You nod with enthusiasm. "Absolutely! Your brushwork adds personality and energy to your artwork. Keep exploring, and soon your paintings will have a unique signature touch!"

As you discuss the concept of layering, Karen listens attentively, eager to dive into this technique. "So, by adding layers, we create depth and make our painting come alive?"

You nod, a twinkle in your eyes. "Exactly! Each layer adds richness and dimension to your artwork. It's like building a story with paint."

Her excitement was clear, her eyes sparkled with each instruction, with each movement of the brush, Karen loved seeing how it moved you as the music moved her. She can't contain the wide smile that grows on her face, you feel a little embarrassment rise in you, your cheeks flushing.

"I talk too much, right? I'm sorry..." You look down at your feet, trying to push away the little embarrassment.

The blonde approaches you holding your hands, she removes the hair from your neck and deposits some kisses there. "Go on tell me, I love hearing you talk about what you like" She murmurs against your skin, you feel every hair on your body stand on end.

"Doesn't get boring, does it?" Unsure you question, your voice low against her ear.

She pulls away kissing your lips briefly, you feel that connection flooding your body like a strong wave of adrenaline. "Nothing involving you is boring."

Karen gets away from you, grabs a brush and starts applying a translucent layer over her existing painting. "We were talking about layering, weren't we? What do you think of the layers of my masterpiece?"

You applaud her progress. "How can you have so many talents at the same time? It's impressive." She winks at you and blows you a kiss.

With a wet brush and a palette full of fresh paint, you introduce Karen to the wet-on-wet technique. "Okay baby, next step, get ready to witness the beauty of colors blending and dancing together."

Karen grins, dipping her brush in water before adding a splash of blue paint onto the canvas. "I'm listening, my muse!"

You join in, both of you working simultaneously, letting the wet paints mingle and merge. "Look at how the colors flow and mix on the canvas, creating a dreamy watercolor effect. It's like a dance party of pigments!"

Karen giggles as the colors swirl and intermingle. "I swear to God sweets If we never crossed paths I would never know about this stuff."

You share her excitement, reveling in the fluidity of the wet-on-wet technique. "That's what I love about this part of art, It's all about embracing spontaneity and letting the colors guide us. Remember, there are no mistakes—just happy surprises!"

When the sun goes down on the horizon and you can see the great mixture of orange, yellow and red through the window, you are already smeared with different types of paint and laughing about random things. Karen wipes her hands on her apron and then ties her hair in a bun, you lock your eyes on the beauty of her person.

"Are We finished?" You wrap your arms around her waist from behind, she caresses your arms as she closes her eyes resting her head on her torso.

"I think we are." She whispers, bringing one of your hands to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

You stay like that for a few seconds, enjoying each other's presence. There are few people who make you feel like you belong in such a unique way as Karen did from the beginning that your eyes met. There was a magnet that drew you to her from the first moment you heard that British accent for the first time, and that only intensified when you started to live with her more. And it was there in that place that was your refuge, feeling her body against yours like finding something that was so necessary, like breathing after a long swim, that you knew… You didn't want that to slip through your fingers.

"I want you to be my girlfriend." You say it all at once, not thinking of anything that could make you fear. You feel her body tense, your heart racing. "I'm in love with you Karen, I really am."

She breaks away from you, turning to look into her eyes, you weren't afraid of what she would say now, you were just afraid that your affirmation would push her away somehow. She closes her eyes tightly and you know she's thinking of a thousand different alternatives.

"Karen, you don't have to say anything—" She kisses you abruptly, clutching your neck with need and urgency trying to convey just how necessary you were.

"Fuck babes, I am in love with too." She says panting after the kiss, you open a smile hugging her and laying her on the couch in the room, kissing her once more.

"You're sleeping over." You say rubbing your nose against hers, with a huge smile.

"You are in charge." She says hugging you closer.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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iwonderwh0 · 6 months

Text

@my-name-is-markus-with-a-k YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID

The following text is entirely your fault

"What's in this room?"

"Oh, this one is my studio. I keep my paintings here and-"

"You can draw?" Connor's eyebrows rise, "Can I see?"

"Sure," Markus says before he manages to stop himself. Realisation catches up with him the next instant, and he almost reaches to stop Connor from entering the room to go first and at least try to hide the evidence, but Connor has already stepped inside and is now coaching down carefully examining dried paintings set on top of each-other along the wall. Good. That'll win Markus some time. He quietly steps around him, grabs a towel from one of the tables and moves to the corner of the room, closer to the window and consequently the easel with yet unfinished piece. Connor shouldn't see this one. Markus drapes the cloth over the canvas just in time for Connor to start standing up to take a closer look at those paintings hanging on the wall.

"They're so colourful, and yet your choice of colours confuses me."

"How so?" Markus steps closer, trying to make his voice sound as casual as possible, but it comes out slightly higher pitched than he intends it anyway. Maybe he'll be able to talk Connor into getting bored and deciding to leave on his own before exploring the rest of the room more throughout.

"It looks intentional, like it symbolises or references something specific. But I'm not sure what it is," he turns his head and looks genuinely curious. Given the situation Markus shouldn't be excited about this fact. No, this is bad. He won't get bored that easily, is he?

"Or am I overthinking it?" Connor adds sheepishly as Markus remains silent for way too long.

"Yes." Markus says suddenly, surprising himself with how determined this false claim came out.

Shit. That's not what he meant, he just needs Connor to leave. Now. He is dying to say something else to refute what he just said, but Connor steps aside from the painting startled by the coldness of Markus's voice.

"Oh. I'm sorry," he says.

Markus struggles to stay quiet.

It's working, don't say anything and he'll leave.

Except he doesn't. He turns around and walks to the other wall.

"Oh, you draw people too," he says as he looks at the portrait of an old man holding a chess piece – white bishop.

"Do you draw them from imagination or are there real-life models?"

"It depends," Markus gets closer, "This one is a portrait of someone I knew in real life – he actually even posed for this. But I have portraits of people that aren't really based on anyone. I can show you, if you want."

Why again is he suggesting something that'll extend Connor's time spent in a studio?

"Or we can do something else?" Markus adds quickly, in an attempt to fix his mistake.

"No, no! Now that you mentioned it, I am curious. Show me."

Great job, Markus.

He gets to the corner of the room where a few old portraits are lying stacked on top of each other and quickly sorts through the stack of them, turning the canvases to the light, searching for the ones not based on real people.

"Why is there two different dates?" Connor asks, and Markus stops to look at the back of the canvas.

"It usually takes me more than a day to finish a piece, so I mark the day I first start it, and then the day It's completely finished. You see, it takes time for this type of paint to dry, and it's important to let every layer dry completely before starting with the next one. It takes a lot of time and patience, so I often work on a couple different paintings at once...Huh, wait, I think it's not here," Markus stands up and looks around the room, thinking where else could he find the portraits he was looking for, then crosses the room to look through the paintings lying along the wall there. Maybe he should just pick one and lie about it – it's not like Connor will now the difference anyway.

"Oh, here!" Markus picks one of the first portraits he's able to find in the stack, "This one wasn't based on anyone," he takes the canvas out of the stack and turns around expecting to see Connor still standing behind him. He could swear he was standing behind him all this time, but now that he turned around Connor wasn't there. Instead, he is standing next to the window, looking at the portrait displayed on the easel.

"How about this one?"

Markus feels as if all the air in the room suddenly disappears, leaving him no oxygen to breathe in. He takes a few steps closer to the window, desperately trying to think of a response. He looks at the towel in human's hand and wonders if there was a single chance for Connor Not to look under it.

"This..erm..," He trails off under the stare of narrowed brown eyes, "It's a little bit of both worlds, I believe."

Connor glances from a portrait back to Markus.

"You 'believe'," he echoes. Markus wishes he could understand what emotion his face is showing, but perhaps Connor himself wouldn't be able to name it if asked.

"Um, I... It's not finished," Markus says, as if this fact drastically changes everything.

"Oh," Connor says, pretending as if it actually does.

He turns the canvas around and stares at the date. He frowns, glances back at Markus, then back at the date. From the expression on his face Markus realises, that he's doing math. Another realisation hits Markus when Connor's eyes widen in silent shock. The date on the back of the canvas precedes what Connor knows to be the first time they've met. What would even be the right time to mention it anyway?

"I can explain," Markus says.

#vampire au #dbh connor #rk1k #dbh markus #dbh

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warmblanketwhump · 2 years

Note

Hi! I love your writing, it's the perfect form of soft whump! Could you maybe write about a touch starved Whumpee who's hypothermic and Caretaker has to cuddle with them to warm them up??

okay, so first have to apologize profusely - i started a fill for this MONTHS ago and it was just not working for me so i rewrote it like six times 😂 but thank you so much for your prompt and patience, and I hope you enjoy!

A finishes the perimeter check of the camp just as night falls, shuddering as another gust of wind blows right through them. They’ve been waiting all day for the minute they could get warm in their tent, and in just a few minutes, they’ll be able to curl up in a blanket with a nice cup of tea and a book.

They’re almost back to their tent when a small, shadowy figure at the edge of camp catches the corner of their eye. Who’d be outside on a night like this?

As they get closer, their confusion only deepens. It’s B.

B’s huddled alone next to a pitifully small fire, a thin grey blanket wrapped around their shoulders as their only protection from the winter cold. As A draws closer, they see that B’s shivering hard, the blanket barely offering any warmth.

B had hardly been more than skin and bone when they found their crumpled form in a snowbank a week ago, so A doesn’t know why they’re out in the bitter wind instead of hunkered down in their assigned tent. And even if they did prefer the great outdoors, they should have on their standard issue coat, hat, and insulated pants to protect them from the winter chill.

“B? What are you doing out here?”

B shrugs. “Th-thought a f-fire would b-be nice.”

A frowns—it’s a non-answer at best. Everyone has a wood burning stove in their tent, so it doesn’t explain why B’s out here. “B, where’s the winter gear we gave you? Why aren’t you with your assigned team?”

B’a teeth are chattering so hard they can barely speak. “I’m ok-kay here. Th-this is enough.” In the firelight they look like a ghost - all hollow cheeks, shadowed bruises, and a fresh black eye. Slowly, they extend a shaking hand over the small flame, trying to soak up some heat, before giving up and tucking their hand back into the blanket.

A can feel their heart crack in two at the sight. “B, you’re freezing. There’s no way you don’t have hypothermia.”

“They told me it’s enough.”

“….what? Who?”

“No one.” There’s fear in their voice now. A frowns - after B had recovered enough in the medical tent, they’d been reassigned to stay with a specific squad for the remainder of the posting.

“B, this is an order. Who said that?”

B takes a shaky breath, and A can see the twin tears that trickle down their cheeks. “The….the others.”

“Are they why you’re out here?” A can hardly keep the shock from their tone. B’s assigned squad was a bit rowdy and rough around the edges, but this kind of cruelty was beyond anything A had ever imagined.

“They said it’s more than enough for a filthy traitor like me.” B’s voice is hollow and broken, and A swears they can see them slump even farther down. “They’re right, though.”

Hot anger floods in A’s chest, but they stuff it down and trade their rage for tenderness - if not for their own sake, then for B.

“These people, your team…they took what we gave you?” B nods, curling deeper into their pitiful blanket.

“Well we can’t leave you huddled by this pile of matchsticks all night. Come with me.” A stretches out their gloved hand toward B.

B turns to them, something in their eyes bearing the vaguest resemblance to hope. But it’s tenuous and trembling, and their voice is barely above a whisper when they ask “Why?”

A ignores the way their own stomach drops at the question, forcing a gentle smile instead. “Why? Because no one should freeze to death out here alone, that’s why. Come on.”

They scoop B off the ground, wrapping an arm around their waist and half-carrying them back to their tent, wincing as they feel B’s every bone through the blanket, how terribly light they are, and how badly they’re shaking.

In a moment, they’re back to their warm canvas tent, where their best friend C is filling out their daily logs by the blazing wood stove.

“C, help.” A’s breathing hard. “I need you to get them bundled and get them a hot water bottle from the med tent. They’re half frozen.” C drops their pen and stands almost to attention as A deposits B on the cot, pulling two of their own thick quilts over B’s small, shaking body.

“A, what happened?”

“Found them outside.” A lowers their voice and leans closer to C. “The other team didn’t take too kindly to them.”

C stares at the little lump on the bed, nodding as they swallow hard. “Are they…are they okay?”

“I think they’re okay. They’re still awake and talking. But they need to get warmed up.”

C nods, moving to the stove to heat up some water and pull on their winter clothes to dart to the med tent. “Do you know….why?”

A shakes their head, still taking it all in. They’d found B a few weeks ago when moving camp, beaten and bruised in a snowdrift. They wore the enemy colors and uniform, but the team still took them in - if anything, they could be a useful source of info.

Once B was on the mend, they confessed they’d joined the enemy group to escape their life of poverty - only to find out they’d been lied to about the other team’s motives and recruited under false pretenses. By then, it was clear that B was too weak to meet the brutal daily demands in the harsh elements. But by then, they’d already learned too much to be sent back—so they were left to die in the cold snow, where they were discovered by A’s team.

B had promptly disavowed their old team and gave up critical information to help their new team, but many were still wary - if they flipped this easily, how easy would it be for them to flip back?

But A knew that wasn’t likely. They saw the way B flinched every time voices got too loud in a room, the way they snuck pieces of their rations to the team dog, the way they curled in on themselves every time they walked in a room, or how they hung back in the medical tent helping to wrap bandages and tend the wounded instead of jostling their way into strategy sessions or striking up conversations around the bonfires. They didn’t want intel. They just wanted to belong.

“Be right back.” A snaps out of their trance and turns for the door.

“A, it’s a blizzard out there—where are you-“ C starts.

“I’ll only be a few minutes. I just need to fix this.” A’s so full of anger that they don’t even feel the cold as they stalk across the camp, only pausing to give the obligatory salute to the guard before entering the camp leader’s tent.

“A! I thought you’d be hunkered down with everyone else. What brings you here this late?” The leader’s leaned back in their chair, glasses low on their nose.

A clears their throat, hoping to strike the balance between convincing and respectful. “Requesting that B be transferred to my care.”

The leader frowns, paging through the piles of paper on their desk. “A, you’ve got enough on your plate. Another team member is the last thing you need.”

Deep breath, keep it cool. “They have…issues with their current assignment. Issues that I believe put them in danger, and ones that I’d like to personally ensure don’t continue.”

“I don’t see how that’s unusual. Not three weeks ago they were the enemy, however uncommitted. It will take time for people to warm up to them.” The captain flips their file over, frowning as they read, half-distracted from A’s request.

“With all due respect, B can’t afford to wait,” A snaps. “I just found them out in the wind, alone, next to a pathetic fire. Their squad took all their winter clothing and kicked them out, which goes against everything we stand for.” A swallows hard, hoping that they’ve stuffed the white hot rage far enough within. “Sorry. That was out of line. But I just don’t trust anyone else with them.”

The leader eyes them warily, but shakes their head and pushes forward a piece of paper. “If you think you can handle it, sign here. But know that your duties won’t be lessened. They’re your responsibility.”

“Yes, Captain. I understand.” A scribbles their signature in a flash—they’re too red-hot with anger to broach the idea of discipline for the other squad, but that can wait. Their main priority is B, and keeping them safe, and now they can.

They turn on their heel and practically run back to the tent, stomach flipping with some unnamed emotion. When they dart back into the warmth of the tent, they see C shaking a glass thermometer, palm on B’s forehead. In the firelight, the glass sends little ice-crystal prisms across the canvas roof, which billow and roll against the stiff wind outdoors like the waves of the ocean. Below, a shivering B is covered in a pile of quilts and blankets, a woolen hat pulled over their head.

C gazes at the thermometer for a moment, then shakes their head and grabs one of three cups of tea from the stove and hands it to A. A accepts it gratefully, curling their frozen fingers around the warm mug.

“Their temp is still way too low.” C turns A toward them and lowers their voice. “They’ve hardly got any insulation as it is, and who knows how long they’d been out there. I got as many hot water bottles and blankets the doc could spare, but it’s just so cold out and they’re so small…”

“Then we improvise.” A kneels down next to their cot - B’s cot, now - and places a hand on their forehead. “B? How you feeling, bud?”

A can’t quite hear their response, but it’s somewhere between a shaky whimper and the word “cold”.

“Yeah, I know, it’s pretty miserable out there, huh?” B nods, and A sees the tiniest glitter of a tear slip down the side of their nose. They sneak a hand out from under the blankets and reach toward A, and A takes their icy fingers in their hand.

“That’s another thing. They keep reaching for something, but I don’t know what.” As C talks, B keeps weakly pulling on A’s arm.

“We’re going to warm you up, okay? Is it okay if we get under the blankets with you?” B nods, eyes scrunched shut.

A shucks off most of their layers and walks around to the far side of the cot. C also sheds their extra layers and pushes their own cot against the one B’s on, with the twin cots forming a full-on blanket nest.

The cots squeak as both of them ease onto the bed, curling up on both sides of B. Blankets are rumpled and pillows are adjusted, and after a bit of jostling, both A and C have snugly sandwiched B in a pocket of hot water bottles, blankets, and body heat.

“There you go. All snug.” A reaches out and shifts a water bottle closer to B’s chest. “Soon you’ll be so warm you’ll be shoving us out. How’s that sound?”

The only reply they get is a big, gulping sob. Somehow, B works their hands out of the layers and frantically clutches A’s shirt in their fist, pulling it toward them.

A’s confusion is reflected in C’s face, and they lean back, trying to catch B’s glance. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Talk to us, B.”

B’s sobs are small whimpers now, and they lean their head down to rest on A’s chest, their body wracked with shivers, their arms reaching, clutching—

Oh.

They want to be held.

Of course. The poor thing’s been starved of affection, even in the place that should’ve been their salvation. Why didn’t A think of this before?

“Oh, B. Come here. It’s alright. We’re not going anywhere.” A wraps their arms around B’s shoulders, and B practically melts in the hug. C’s eyes are questioning, but A just nods, and C scoots even closer.

“Don’t let go,” B whispers. “Please don’t let go.”

“We won’t, B,” A whispers back, arms circling tighter. “I won’t.”

The wind howls and buries the camp in feet of sparkly white snow—and there, in the middle of it all, someone feels safe for the first time in their life.

#hypothermia #cold whump #hurt comfort #cuddling #touch starved #i threw the book at this one lol #as in #this has most of my favorite tropes

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