#purple mohawk bass

[wild-karrde]

Part 1: The Antagonist

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A/N: ALRIGHT. SO. I REWROTE THE FIRST PART OF THIS SERIES. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. As always, THANK YOU TO THE OUTSTANDING @teletraan-meets-jarvis FOR BETA READING THIS FOR ME!

Pairing: Gregor x f!Reader (nicknamed Bolts)

Rating: E 18+ MINORS BEGONE

Warnings: language, fingering, voyeurism, PiV sex, oral sex, impact play/spanking, Fives cameo

Word Count: 6.5k words

The bass of the music in 79s is damn near deafening as you step inside the bar, almost immediately spotting the magenta and grey paint of the 28th Combat Wing’s armor in their favored booth against the wall. What stands out more was the yellow hatch-marked commando armor sitting amongst them. Your teeth immediately find the inside of your cheek, gnawing away to ease your annoyance.

Fucking Gregor. Dammit. 

You’ve been looking forward to this all week, but of course that fucking commando is here. Maker alive, he’s infuriating, but you aren’t about to let him ruin your night out. You have to cash out on all of the booze Chuckles owes you at some point, and he’s so rarely planetside, your opportunities are limited. 

But why did it have to be the night that asshole is also around? 

You’re not sure what exactly about Gregor gets under your skin. Maybe it’s his cocky smirk or his stupid hair or that ridiculous giggle that sounds like an inebriated fathier whinnying. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely unbothered by you. No matter what it is, Gregor’s got you figured and loves to dig his finger into that sore spot whenever he gets the chance. He’s already spotted you from across the room, raising an eyebrow as you start heading in his direction. 

Not tonight, asshole. 

You square your shoulders, swaying your hips a bit more than necessary. None of them have ever seen you out of your mechanic’s jumpsuit, and you’d picked your favorite (and only) dress for the occasion. It’s a simple, strappy black number, short, but not too short, shimmery, and easy enough to get into and out of should the need arise. After all, you deserve a little bit of attention. And maybe a good lay. If you can find one.

Gregor says nothing as he sips his beer, but his eyes never leave you, raking from your toes to your eyebrows as you nudge Chuckles and slide into the booth next to him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m saving this seat for some greasy mechanic I owe a few drinks to,” Chuckles teases, slipping his arm over the back of the booth behind you. 

“Oh, my apologies. Mind if I keep it warm until she gets here?” you joke back, playfully ruffling his mohawk, which is currently a deep purple color. 

Crater rolls his eyes while Stones leans over, whispering that you look very nice, making you duck your head bashfully. Chuck flags down a waiter droid. 

“What’ll it be, Bolts?” he asks, invoking the nickname he’d given you.”Just don’t break my non-existent bank account.” 

“I’ll have a whiskey, please,” you request. Gregor raises an eyebrow again. 

You feel annoyance tighten your chest. “What?” you ask sharply. 

“Here we go,” mumbles Guin under his breath.

Gregor shrugs. “Just didn’t peg you for the whiskey type.” 

“Oh, do enlighten me as to what type you thought I’d be, Captain.”

“Alright, alright, your seat’s not even warm yet,” Chuck mutters. He leans closer, speaking directly into your ear. “What is your damage with him?” 

You sniff delicately, as if Chuckles has somehow misread the constant bickering between Gregor and you. “Nothin’. I just asked a question.” 

Chuck rolls his eyes before sliding the whiskey in front of you. “Just drink this so you’ve got less of a stick up your ass.” 

You glare at him, but accept the drink anyway, enjoying the slight burn in your throat and the warmth that settles into your belly. 

It doesn’t take too many whiskeys before you feel yourself start to relax, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. You laugh at Chuckles’s terrible jokes, chat with Crater about the last bolo ball game, and even get Sticks to come out of his shell a bit, convincing him to regale you with the stories behind Chuckles’s most ridiculous injuries. The entire time, you notice Gregor’s stealing glances at you, and your confidence grows. 

Let the bastard look.

You lean forward to take another sip of whatever drink Chuckles has ordered for you now. You let your cleavage rest on the table as your tongue wraps around the straw, pulling it between your lips. You glance up in time to see Gregor watching you over the rim of his glass. His eyes are on your breasts, but they quickly flick up to meet your gaze. You roll your eyes at his obvious leering, leaning back into the crook of Chuckles’s shoulder. The pilot seems somewhat surprised, but doesn’t move to pull away. Gregor says nothing, but something in his eyes seems to flare for a moment. 

You’re imagining things. 

As the evening progresses, Crater graciously excuses himself to head back to the barracks and catch up on some reports. As soon as their commanding officer disappears towards the bar to settle his tab, tongues loosen, and suddenly the conversation turns to romantic encounters. Unfortunately, the boys haven’t spent enough time planetside to rack up anything too salacious, so it isn’t long before you become the target of the conversation. 

“C’mon, Bolts. What’s been your wildest night?” 

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Who said anything about kissing?” 

“And since when are you a lady?” You elbow Chuck for that comment, shooting him a glare with no real heat behind it.

“Oh, come on. There has to have been something that you’d consider memorable.” 

You shrug. “Not lately.” 

“No game or nothing worth writing home about?”

“You guys sure are nosey.” 

“We’ve got to live vicariously through you, Bolts.”

You laugh, growing bolder as the liquor in your stomach warms you. “There was a guy a few weeks back. He did his best, and it was probably better sex than I’d had in a while, but that’s not saying much with the losing streak I’ve had going. Thinking of giving up and just going with the battery-powered lovers from here on out. At least then I get to finish.” 

Stones groans in despair for your lackluster love life and Chuckles cackles loudly. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em, Bolts.” 

You shrug. “It’s been a struggle.”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.” 

Gregor had been quiet for the last little while, but that comment from him draws your attention. And your ire.

“And what would you know about making a woman cum, Captain?” you sneer. 

He grins cheekily. “Plenty.” 

“I bet you couldn’t make a woman orgasm if your life depended on it,” you bite back. 

Chuckles huffs in annoyance next to you. Gregor swirls the whiskey he’s switched to in the light, watching the legs of the liquid trail down the side of the glass. 

“I’ll take that bet.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever really openly antagonized you, and something about the way he’s looking at you sets your blood boiling and a very different sort of blaze licking up your spine. Your eyes lock onto one another, and for reasons you can’t explain, you feel heat pool between your legs. You adjust in the booth, and while the others are guffawing about something else Chuckles said to lighten the mood, Gregor notes the way your thighs rub together. He smirks, and you scowl back as your annoyance battles for control with the sudden tingle that ripples through your nerves. After another few minutes, you excuse yourself, unsure of where you’re heading.

Just need to get away from him for a minute. 

Your feet carry you towards the back of the bar where it’s darker. You pass plenty of bodies pressed together, panting, sweating, and moaning in the dim lighting. Suddenly, you feel a hand in the small of your back, pressing you towards one unoccupied corner that’s far from any prying eyes. You whirl to find Gregor smirking down at you. 

“I-I was looking for the ‘freshers,” you sputter. 

“Now love, I don’t think that’s true at all,” he responds. “I think you were looking for trouble.” 

You regain your bearings, scoffing at him as he backs you into the corner. You feel the heat grow between your legs, and you hate how your panties are sticking to you as he pins you against the wall, one arm braced next to your head as he leans closer, smirking. You can smell his sweat and his drink and his skin, and a sudden shiver rips through you. You jut your chin out defiantly.

“What do you want, Gregor?” you snap. 

“Same thing as you.”

“And what’s that?”

He chuckles before leaning even closer to you, his voice rasping in your ear. “To make you cum.” 

You snort indignantly, but your legs are trembling underneath you.

“The question is,” he continues. “How best to make that happen? Are you one of those lovers that wants to be taken roughly, with me buried deep in that sopping cunt of yours while I hold a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet? Or do you need me to build you up more slowly, take my time until you fall apart?” His fingers trail up your thigh, slipping under the fabric of your dress before digging into your skin slightly. He presses forward, slotting a knee between your legs, and your breathing quickens. His eyes are watching you as his fingers find the hem of your panties on your hip, and he twists the string of delicate lace around his knuckle. 

“Now this feels like something you were hoping someone would take off of you tonight. That the case, love?” 

You swallow hard. 

“You want me to take these off of you?” 

“No.” 

He pulls his hand away immediately, clearly thinking he’s misread things, but you lock your fingers around his wrist. His eyes find yours in the darkness, the question in them apparent.

“I want you to make me cum with them on.” 

His trademark smirk reappears, his fingers slipping back under your dress, drifting between your legs to press your clit through the thin fabric. He’s more sure of himself now, more certain you want this, and as much as you hate it, you absolutely fucking do. 

“All worked up just from thinking about me? You’re practically soaked,” he murmurs. 

“You talk a lot,” you mutter. 

He chuckles against your ear. “I think you like when I talk.” His fingers find the hem of your panties between your legs, and you feel him push the lacy fabric aside, tracing through your dripping folds. “I think you like hearing all the ways that I think about fucking you, and trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.” His first finger finds its way inside you, and you gasp, hitching one leg over his hip as your hands fly to his shoulders to find purchase. Gregor’s watching you as your lips part, your head thunking back against the wall as he slips a second finger inside you. 

“That’s it, love. Let go for me. Let me take care of you.” 

“I really don’t like you,” you try to snarl, but it comes out more of a whine. 

He chuckles. “I think you want to dislike me, but that’s becoming more difficult.” 

Your reply dies on your tongue, replaced by a gasp. His fingers are so thick and deliciously calloused. When they finally find that spongy place inside you, you dig your teeth into your lower lip to stifle a moan. He crowds you further against the wall, bearing down on that place inside you. “None of that now. Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I might let you if you’re nicer,” he teases.

You dig your nails into the back of his neck, and he gasps lightly before he nudges the strap of your dress aside with his nose and bites down on the flesh of your shoulder. You groan out his name. 

“Gregor.” 

“That’s right. You like this, don’t you? Being back here where anyone could see you falling apart on my fingers.”

You suddenly become aware of just how exposed you are, and in spite of yourself, it thrills you. Glancing back over at the table, you see the boys are all still seated and chattering away, completely oblivious as to what’s going on. You’re mostly glad they’re not paying attention. 

Mostly. 

Gregor notes where your gaze has drifted. “You want them to watch, hm? I could call the others over. Have them see you finally get what you deserve.” You whimper, clenching around his fingers as he slips a third one in. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You’re filthy, love. Maybe another time. Right now, I want you all to myself.” 

You’re practically riding his palm right now, the man you’ve hated for months, but Maker above, you’re not about to stop. There’s something so deliciously obscene about how you never could have predicted this moment, and yet, here you were, fueled by need and anger and something else you can’t quite place. The music is faint enough back in this corner that you can hear the obscene wet noises coming from between your legs. You’re both sweating, foreheads pressed together, panting in each other’s faces. 

“Gregor, I’m close.” It might be the first time you’ve said his name without a snarl tacked onto the last syllable.

“I know you are, love. Be good for me and soak my hand, yeah?” 

You glare at him with heated eyes, mustering your last bit of defiance. “Make me.” 

He sucks at the place just below your ear. “With pleasure.” With that, he presses against your clit with his thumb, circling slowly with just the perfect amount of pressure. Your mind goes fuzzy, teetering on the brink as he buries his face in your neck, panting against your sweaty skin. Your eyes rove the bar around you once more as Gregor’s thumb presses more firmly against the bundle of nerves between your legs. No one near you is paying any attention to you, mostly focused on their own partners, but a pair of piercing brown eyes draw your attention, and you lock gazes with Crater from across the bar. 

He must have gotten sidetracked or decided to have one more drink away from his men as he closed out his tab, but either way, there he is, seemingly watching you ride Gregor’s fingers. His expression doesn’t change as your eyes find his. He brings his glass to his lips, his gaze unwavering as he surveys you. You’re not even absolutely certain he’s looking at you in this dimly lit mass of bodies, but you think he is, and that’s enough to send you flying towards the edge of your orgasm. You cum hard, your vision whiting out as you topple over the precipice. Gregor presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your scream, and you bite down on his bottom lip as you ride out your high. When the aftershocks have finally subsided, you slump against the wall as Gregor pulls his hand from between your legs. He holds you up, resting his chin on your shoulder as he pants against your skin. 

Glancing back at the bar, you note Crater’s gone. If he was even actually there in the first place. 

“I… still don’t like you,” you mutter between gulps of air.  

He chuckles. “Keep telling yourself that, love.”

When your breathing finally steadies and your legs become usable again, he stands back, watching you as you straighten your clothes. You try to recompose yourself, smoothing your hair, and he grins. You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Looks like I won that bet.” He kisses you on the cheek, which infuriatingly makes your face flush with heat. You glare at him as he turns to leave, but you grab his arm again. In spite of months of derision and grumbled comments, you want more. 

And you want it now.

His expression is puzzled, and you relish in it as you step closer to grip his rock-hard length on the outside of his pants, making him gasp. You whisper directly into his ear, ensuring only he’ll hear. 

“Wait five minutes and then follow me outside. I’ll have a cab waiting.” 

“What for?” 

You kiss him, running your tongue over the inside of his lip before patting his cheek, enjoying the way he groans and the surprised look on his face. 

“Double or nothing. But this time you can't use your hands.”

With that, you turn on your heel, heading back towards the table. Your fingers wander nervously over the fabric of your dress, ensuring there’s no wrinkle or strap out of place that would give away what happened in that dark corner. You pull your hair over one shoulder, hoping it covers the stinging mark where Gregor’s teeth found purchase against your skin. Chuckles glances up as you get closer, his eyes seemingly taking in everything you’d hoped to hide, but his expression doesn’t change. Heat rises in your cheeks, and you try to meet his gaze with a level stare of your own. 

“Everything alright, Bolts?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking I’ll head out. Got a long one tomorrow.” 

“Want me to walk you home?”

“No. I mean, I’m good. But thank you. Don’t want to be a bother.” 

Chuck nods. 

“We all good here then? Don’t need me to settle up anything?” you ask.

Chuckles grins. “All good, but we’re even now, right?”

You smirk. “You wish, bud. You owe me at least two more nights like this before I’d call us even.” 

The pilot rolls his eyes, but you wink before making your way back through the crowd and out the front door of the bar. 

The night air is chilly, or at least it makes you shiver as the breeze hits your sweaty skin. You wrap your arms around yourself, eyeing the area where taxis usually could be flagged down. There’s a large crowd gathered, and apparently, it’s a slow night with the cabs. You shift your weight on your feet nervously, weighing your options. You’d rather not stand in a crowd with Gregor. Your cunt throbs between your legs, still slick from the orgasm the commando wrenched from you, and still craving more. There’s a moment of sharp clarity where you realize what just occurred, what you’ve propositioned. You pause to consider it. 

Yes, you’ve always disliked Gregor for whatever imagined slights you’ve clung to, but you’ve just allowed him to pleasure you better than any lovers in recent memory, perhaps ever. And he followed through on his promise, and has seemingly agreed to do it again, wrenching another orgasm from you. If he was actually a sleamo, you’d have never let him touch you, and now, your mind really tries to pinpoint what it is about him that’s always pissed you off. He’s good looking, and he knows it, and he’s always been able to read you, seemingly finding the most annoying places to press into. Well, until he found a very different sort of place to press against tonight, one that made your legs tremble and your nerves flare with electricity. You still can’t quite put your finger on what it is about him that makes you angry, but you’re definitely certain about the reasons you want him to fuck you now.

It was unexpected, impulsive, almost taboo, and that made it more thrilling. And him being so eager to pull another orgasm from you? Well, that’s new. Even with your shared history, you’ve never met a man so focused on you, and deep down, you like the attention. Even if it is Gregor.

You turn back towards the club, and see the lanky commando just exiting. As much as you’d love to take him back to your apartment and fuck in a real bed, something about it seems too intimate, even with your revelations. In your mind, it’s almost some sort of concession, admitting that you’ve enjoyed him enough to be vulnerable, to allow him into your space. And that’s not something you’re ready for, at least not yet. You just want a release. Well, more than the one he’s already given you, and you’re not feeling patient enough to wait for a cab. You lock eyes with him, jerking your head towards one of the alleys. 

He seems to take your cue, following behind you as you stride in between the two buildings, picking your way around a few couples that seemed to have the same idea. You’re pretty sure one of them is that ARC with the tattoo on his temple from the 501st, but it’s hard to tell with the way he’s bent over the woman he’s fucking against the wall. As you walk past, she moans out “Fives,” and confirms your suspicions. A sharp thrill of anticipation snakes through you. 

Gregor might fuck you like that in a minute. 

You think he might grab your hand to lead you through the alley, but he allows you to lead, hovering just half a step behind you without touching you. And that almost seems to make the space between you fizzle with anticipation. As soon as you get far enough past the other pairs to give yourselves a semblance of privacy, you finally feel warm hands snake around your waist. Gregor spins you, pinning you against the wall. You hiss as the cool bricks scrape against your bare shoulder blades, but it’s more from surprise than anything else. 

“What do you want, love?” Gregor asks, hands already wandering your body. The lighting out here is only a little better than inside 79s, but the shadows work in his favor, sharpening his features and somehow making his eyes more piercing. 

Karking hells, he’s hot.

“I want you to fuck me hard against this wall until I cum as many times as I need to,” you gasp, arching into his touch as he squeezes your breast over your dress. 

The corner of his mouth lifts into a triumphant smirk, one that would normally make you snarl at him, but he’s already got you unraveling. “Yeah? I think I can do that. Just gotta help me get ready.” He guides your hand between his legs, and you feel his cock through his pants again. He’s softened a little in the last few minutes since you’d separated, and while you could probably get him hard again just by stroking him, you want to turn the tables and get him back on his heels a bit. 

You want to wipe that smirk off of his stupidly handsome face. You want him to whimper for you.

Pushing him away from you, you squat down, carefully balancing on your toes, and start working to free his cock from his pants. Luckily, he’d opted to not wear any armor above his knees tonight, and it only takes a moment to fish out your prize. He’s long, and so thick and warm in your grasp. You feel your mouth watering already at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

“Oh, Maker, Bolts. Is that what you want?” he asks, and you feel his cock twitch against your palm. 

You say nothing, glaring up at him before you slip him past your lips. You groan as you taste him, tracing his shaft and flicking at the head of his cock with your tongue. Gregor’s mouth falls open slightly, and he gives you exactly what you’d hoped for, a whine high in his throat. You take him deeper, relishing in the way he stretches your jaw, even as his head brushes the back of your throat. With watering eyes, you drag your tongue along the bottom of him, pulling back enough to wrap your fingers around his length, twisting as you take him again. Gregor hisses out a curse between clenched teeth, and you hum, smirking around your mouthful. The commando stares down at you, clinging to what’s left of his composure. 

“Now love, I thought the rule was no hands?” he scolds breathlessly, reaching down to grab both of your wrists. He pins them against the wall with one of his massive hands, stepping closer and thrusting gently into your mouth. Your head rests against the wall, and all you can do is open your jaw wider to accommodate him as he presses even closer. He keeps your hands pinned against the wall, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Squeeze if it’s too much, but I’m not going to go easy. Not with the way you’ve run that mouth at me.” He’s teasing, and you raise an eyebrow, grazing him with your teeth. He reaches down, gripping your jaw firmly. 

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” he grits out darkly, and you shiver at how the hoarse, lighthearted rasp of his voice has turned to a deep gravel that promises to ruin you. Without further preamble, Gregor snaps his hips into you until you choke. He watches you for a moment, and when you don’t squeeze his hand, he starts fucking your mouth without abandon. You focus on breathing through your nose as he drives his cock into your throat, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, trying to find the place that’ll make him come undone. Tears stream from your eyes, surely ruining your makeup, and rivulets of saliva slide over your lips, dribbling down your chin and neck. Gregor’s too far gone to note your efforts with your tongue, swearing under his breath as he uses you. 

And as much as you dislike him, you love this.

Even if you’ll never admit it. 

You can feel your pulse between your legs, and your pussy is begging for some sort of stimulation. You flex your wrists experimentally to see if you’ll be allowed one hand to touch yourself with, but Gregor tightens his grip. 

“That greedy little cunt is going to have to wait,” he rasps, glancing down at your pleading eyes with the smuggest expression imaginable. “I’m going to get my credits worth out of your mouth first.” With that, he pushes to the back of your throat, burying your nose in the dark curls at his base, and he holds you there. Your vision blurs with tears, and he’s cut off your air, but fuck you love it. 

You feel his thumb trace your hand, reminding you that you can squeeze anytime to have him release you, but tapping out at this point would mean letting him win, and you’re not about to do that. 

After what feels like an eternity, he pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp for air as a thick string of spit connects the two of you. You gasp and choke as you try to catch your breath, but Gregor is already pulling you to your feet, spinning you to face the wall and pushing your dress up and your panties to the side. Your knees protest as pins and needles snake down your calves where the blood flow was cut off in your squatting position, but you don’t have time to complain as Gregor kicks your feet apart, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“You ready to cum on my cock, love?” 

Your voice feels rough as you reply. “We’ll see if you can make me.” 

Gregor pulls the strap of your dress off your shoulder, freeing your breast, which he immediately grabs, pinching your nipple. In spite of yourself, your head falls back against his shoulder as you try to press the tender flesh into his palm. He squeezes roughly as he takes your earlobe in his teeth, chuckling. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure you can still feel me all day tomorrow. And that you’ll be back for more.”

The snarled retort is on the tip of your tongue when he sheathes himself fully in you in one stroke, and it’s strangled by the high-pitched gasp that rips out of you. Gregor crowds you against the wall, practically lifting you up on your toes with every thrust. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you’re certain of that with how he’s stretching you out, carving out his place inside of you with every snap of his hips. Your breasts press against the cool, rough brick, and normally, you’d complain that it was uncomfortable, but Gregor’s cock hits a place inside you that makes you cry out loudly, and the pleasure overshadows the pain. 

“Shhh, love,” Gregor coos in your ear. “Gonna attract an audience. Unless that’s what you want?”

“Thought y-you liked hearing me,” you gasp.

“Inside was louder. Out here, everyone can hear you mewling.”

You place your palms against the wall, digging your teeth into your lip to try and keep your moans locked inside you. Gregor shifts his grip on your hips, reaching up to splay his massive palm against your breast, his other hand trailing between your legs. You regain enough brainpower to swat it away. 

“No hands,” you snarl.

He huffs a laugh, redoubling his efforts. “Fine then. We’ll be here longer, so you’ll really have to stay quiet.” He purposefully bottoms out, and you moan before you can stop yourself. “You’re so loud, Bolts,” he teases, bearing down on the place inside of you that’s making your legs tremble beneath you. “I suppose I can help with that.” 

His hand slides over your mouth, and you think he’s just going to muffle your screams, but instead, he slides three fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. You whine, and he chuckles, driving into you. You want to make a comment about how loud his hips are slapping against your ass, how the wet sounds of your cunt are echoing down the alley, how Gregor’s panting and grunting in your ear, and you certainly would if the pads of his fingers weren’t pressing against your tongue. You realize those are the same fingers that touched you earlier, that found the place his cock has now discovered, and you can still taste traces of your orgasm on his callouses. He hooks the corner of your lip, pulling the corner of your mouth down enough to allow a trail of saliva to slither over his knuckles. 

“Sloppy little thing,” he mutters, and you moan. The brick scratches against your chest and palms as he pushes you harder against the wall, using it to pin you in place as he takes you roughly. You feel eyes on you, and turning your head as much as you can manage, you find the gaze of the woman that Fives is fucking. The ARC trooper is on his knees now, his face hidden under her skirt, one of her legs draped over his pauldron. The woman’s braced against the wall, her sharp purple eyes watching you with interest as her fingers snake through Fives’s curls. It’s hard for you to tell in the dark, but you’re almost certain Fives is stroking himself as he lavishes her cunt with attention, his arm moving in a repetitive motion as he groans quietly. The woman winks at you, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips before Fives pulls a moan from her.

“Knew you’d like an audience,” Gregor rasps. “Now, let’s give them a show.” His hand leaves your breast, disappearing for a moment before he brings it down in a stinging slap across your ass. Your eyes roll back into your head as the pain courses through your veins, blossoming to pleasure under Gregor’s warm palm. He lands another blow to your other cheek, and this time, you can’t help but scream around his digits. Your cunt spasms around his cock, and you know you’re close, so close. 

“Your pussy’s going to choke me, love,” Gregor moans. “Better finish you off before you milk me dry.” 

“T-tfhh eeee,” you mumble around his fingers. 

You know he’s grinning behind you. 

“What was that?” 

You bite his finger gently, and he yanks his hand loose, spanking you again. 

“Touch m-me,” you demand once you regain your breath. 

“Now, you said no hands was the rule. And I intend to comply.” 

“I know what the fuck I said,” you snap. 

He readjusts, and somehow, he hits the perfect place. Your eyes cross and you think your legs might give out. You moan, your forehead resting against the brick as you try to not move, hoping he’ll strike the same place again. 

“Ask nicely,” Gregor whispers mockingly. 

Your resolve and animosity crumbles to ash as he strokes the same place inside you again.

“Please,” you beg. “I’m so close. Please, please, pleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Oh, I love hearing you beg like that,” Gregor groans. You expect him to tease you more, dangling you over the edge as you whine and thrash helplessly, but he relents, slipping his hand between your legs and easily finding your clit, which he presses against with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Say ‘thank you, Gregor,’ and I’ll let you cum.” 

Fuck, you despise this man. He’s embedded himself under your skin for no discernible reason, and yet, you’ve let him touch you and pleasure you and fuck you, and there’s no way you’re going to be able to scrub this night from your mind. You’re going to want this again, no matter how much you push against it, and knowing that Gregor’s a willing participant, even if you’re ready to scream every curse you can think of at him right now, well, that makes it even easier to allow it to happen again. 

If he’ll just let you finish. 

He slows the roll of his hips, and you groan in frustration. Your desperation is clouding your mind at this point, and as you feel the finish line of your orgasm slipping away, you become frantic. He’s dangled you long enough, and after months and months of not having anything but your toys to sate you, you’ll allow yourself this small humiliation in order to get what you want. 

“Please. Please, let me cum. I’ll say anything you want.” 

He snickers, snapping his hips again, and you’re immediately back on the edge, tingling with anticipation as your entire body thrums with pleasure. You hate how easily he’s got you figured, how quickly he shoves you back to the precipice, and how smug he’s going to be about it. 

You’ll be mad later. Right now, you can’t be bothered to care.

He leans closer, and you know what he’s waiting for. 

 “Thank you for fucking me like this, Gregor.” 

His fingers press harder against your clit just as the tip of his cock slams into the spot no one else has ever come close to reaching. You claw at the wall in front of you as your vision whites out once more, and you feel him pull out of you, expending ropes of his seed across the curves of your ass. 

He doesn’t let you fall, his hands flying to your waist and his weight pinning you in place against the wall as your knees threaten to crumble underneath you. His hold is much gentler than it was a moment ago, and he rests his chin on your shoulder as he recovers. 

“That was fun,” he pants, and you can practically hear his mouth curling into a grin, but somehow, it’s not as smug as you thought it’d be. “We should do it again some time.”

“Not if you’re going to make a mess of me before sending me home,” you mutter, glancing around for something to wipe the quickly-cooling spend off of you. 

“Allow me.” 

You feel fabric wipe across your ass, and turning, you see Gregor tucking the soiled edge of his shirt back into his pants along with his cock. He shrugs when you raise an eyebrow. 

“I imagine that wouldn’t be very comfortable in the cab home.”

“You imagine correctly.”

You stand there staring at one another for a moment awkwardly in the now-empty alley, Fives and his companion having finished their encounter and disappeared. This entire thing was unexpected to say the least, and neither of you know what comes next. You break into nervous laughter, straightening your panties and dress. 

“I like your smile. Don’t get to see it very often.” 

In spite of yourself, heat flushes across your face. You reach up to fix your hair, and a warm hand cups your cheek. You lock eyes with Gregor, and he’s staring at you so gently you almost forget how much you dislike him. 

Almost.

“Don’t you even think of kissing me.” 

“We already kissed.”

He has a point, but of course you won’t give any more ground. “I’d hardly call that a kiss.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Fair enough.” He reaches out, brushing some of your hair back into place. It’s surprising, and fuck, your treacherous heart clenches just a bit at the tenderness of the gesture. It’s not because you’ve suddenly developed feelings for him, but you can’t remember the last time someone touched you like that, so gentle and warm.  

It hasn’t been that long. And you’re not that desperate for affection. Just for a good fuck. 

And this was a good fuck.

You survey him for another moment as he rubs the back of his neck. “I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about,” he offers. 

“Do I look worried?”

“You look uneasy.” He smirks. “Although maybe it’s because the man you loathe made you cum. Twice.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes. Gregor steps closer, straightening the strap on your dress. “I meant what I said. I’d do it again. If you’d like.” 

His brown eyes lock onto yours, and you consider it. Your shoulders do feel like they’ve dropped away from your ears, some of the tension you’ve been carrying for as long as you can remember seemingly vanished. And you feel like your fuse isn’t as short. Even the steady thrum of annoyance that you’ve felt tearing through you since the moment you laid eyes on Gregor seems to have abated slightly. 

No one would suspect it since we hate each other. No expectations. Just sex. Really good sex. 

I could use really good sex.

“I suppose I could tolerate you doing that when you’re planetside,” you concede. “But no one else finds out. And this is just sex.”

“Just sex,” he agrees, extending his hand to seal the deal. “Shake on it?”

“You’re an idiot,” you grumble, stepping past him, leaving his hand hanging in the air. He catches your waist from behind, pulling you back against him. 

“Don’t forget this idiot that knows how your pussy feels wrapped around his cock. Now, are you going to give me your comm?” 

“Fuck off. You know where to find me when you get back,” you mutter, ignoring the way your thighs are clenching together again at his words. 

Get it the fuck together. 

“True. Since you never leave that garage,” he snickers. Before you can protest, he pecks a kiss to your temple and gently pushes you forward by your ass, squeezing the curve of it a little. You stumble a bit, shooting him a glare over your shoulder. 

“Get home safe, Bolts,” he says quietly. In spite of everything, he’s being sincere. And that’s nice.

You pause. “Yeah. You too.” 

His smirk fades and his gaze softens at your words, but he quickly slips his default expression back into place. Raising an eyebrow, he gives you a two-fingered salute, and you roll your eyes again before walking off to find a cab.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @skellymom @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

#karrde writes #the antagonist #the blitz series #captain gregor #clone commando gregor #gregor x reader #gregor x you #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #enemies to lovers #but only one of them thinks so #OC Chuckles #OC Crater #28th Combat Wing #clone OC

[goodheartt]

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐔𝐁 𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 - 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

skunk has a band with his friends from high school named bathtub cigarettes. their vibe ?? angry midwest emo meets folk punk. we already know skunk is the drummer, so you might as well get familiar with the rest of the band !!

earl - lead vocals.

earl is twenty-two years old, non-binary trans-masc, uses they/them/theirs pronouns, and is loudly and proudly queer. when they aren't singing for the band, they are working as a bartender for a small dive bar right down the street from the bathtub cigarettes house. they rock a buzz cut that is dyed in a red and black checkerboard pattern. their favorite things ?? grape flavored candies, modello, roller skating, and black and milds ( specifically wood tip wine flavored ones ). earl can seem stand offish at first due to their protectiveness of their friends. to earl, the band is their family. once you get to know them, they will begin to open up, and show you how much of a goofball they can really be. earl met skunk for the first time in high school, specifically during their freshman year math class. they've been inseparable since.

mikey - guitar.

mikey is twenty-one years old, a cis-man that uses he/him/his pronouns, and is so unapologetically queer. when he's not rocking out on the guitar, you can find him making lattes at a coffee shop downtown. his hair is long and dyed black, the strands that frame his face have been dyed bright purple. his favorite things ?? malboro 100's, bush apple, fireball, cats, and skateboarding. mikey is incredibly scatter brained, bubbly, and goofy. he can be really unreliable at times and has been banned from making any group plans for the band ( due to him often forgetting he made the plans in the first place ). mikey met earl his junior year of high school and they have been best friends ( and partners ) ever since. earl keeps mikey on track, trying to steer their partner in the right direction. the two have been dating for five years now. mikey is always late to band practice even though he lives in the house that they practice in.

karp - bass.

karp is twenty-two years old, a trans-woman, and uses she/her/hers pronouns. karp is a lesbian and will not be afraid to tell you that, often making jokes about her shortly trimmed fingernails. when she's not playing bass for the band, she works as an apprentice at a local tattoo shop. yes, she is responsible for most of the bands tattoos. her hair is styled into a shaggy and choppy mullet that has been dyed lime green. her favorite things ?? menthol cigarettes, steel reserves, pop punk, roller skating, and animals. karp is incredibly kind an thoughtful, she would give her shirt off her back if she needed to. she met skunk in high school, specifically in concert band. she played percussion with skunk, and they hit it off right away. karp is the creator of the name 'bathtub cigarettes', drawing inspiration from late nights in her childhood trailer home, smoking cigarettes that they had stolen from their father with skunk in the bathtub.

martin - banjo/backup vocals.

martin is twenty three years old, non-binary trans-femme, and uses they/she/he pronouns. martin is bisexual with no preferences. his hair is styled into a mohawk that is dyed navy blue. when they aren't performing with the band, they work as a freelance artist, spending most of their time spray painting the sides of buildings with skunk. their favorite things ?? malboro reds shorts, montucky cold snacks, 80's grunge/punk music, and roller derby. martin has a very warm and caring heart, she is almost like a parental figure to the band. she loves to crack jokes and make others laugh. martin met karp in an after school board game club and was quickly introduced to the rest of the group. everyone quickly took them under their wing, seeing how perfectly they fit with everyone else.

#bathtub cigarettes / headcanon. #alcohol mention // #cigarettes // #i started working on these bios literally just over a year ago <3 how fitting to be posting this now (':

[bassdaily]

March wrap up

Me and my hairspiracy theories...

I had a few other thoughts, but wanted to keep my initial write up a little more focused.

- Blues’ radical hairstyle change. Capcom did that in MM8. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Most adaptions went with his original MM3 hair and Archie comics went with the MM8 pompadour, both are technically game canon.

- As far as the Wilys all having the same hair color. This is a great headcanon! It’s cute! And I never want to discourage anyone’s preferences. I just don’t think it’s good evidence for actual canon. Aside from the fact that Zero and Bass as brothers is really a fanon thing... the Light siblings have different hair colors?

- I’m dying to see if the Rockman-chan manga will give us Forte hair. They already teased it by showing him take his helmet off. (…only to put on a far sillier helmet.)

That said, Rockman-chan doesn’t always stick to canon designs. Lookin’ at you, Blues. On the other hand… it’s like the only media that really gets that Forte is supposed to be an edgy recolor DeviantArt OC do not steal, and would be around the same age and build as Rock.

- FWIW, my personal preference and headcanon is purple hair, which is not and never will be game canon. These days I’ve come to accept the short manga style, but for a very long time I was a very strong proponent of medium shoulder length hair.

- As far as I’m concerned NetNavis don’t have hair or anything under their “helmets”, the infamous AutoNavi included.

- Fun stats! Here’s a breakdown of haircolors/styles reblogged here as of the end of March:

team raven locks black: 76   +team chestnut waves brunet: 4 team flaxen mane blond: 64   +team ginger redhead: 1 team awesome hair purple: 27 team snowy tresses white/silver: 24 multicolor: 13 unknown: 45

short hair: 186 medium hair: 28 long hair: 27 mohawk/undercut: 16 curly: 14 braids/dreads: 4 bald: 5

“Multicolor” needed to be evenly split (ie: 50/50), anything less was counted as the dominant color. Purple skews high due to moderator bias, white skews low on account of a large portion of white-haired Bass is ship art, which I try to limit, so idk what to say man. That is a form of moderator bias as well, I suppose.

Not counted: text posts, 2nd round reblogs, anything in the hairnalysis posts.

- Poll results!

#mega man #meta #text post #(kinda) #jixie rambles #hairstyles #(if rockman-chan shows us forte hair that lines up with my theory) #(I'm absolutely going to use that as evidence) #(and if they show us forte hair that's contrary to my theory) #(I'm going to point out how their designs for roll and blues stray from canon) #(that's just how it gotta be)

[ureternalmajesty]

House of Asmodeus

Nameless ghouls and ghoulettes x ocs (Aether included)

The summoned info

Name: Amber

Nicknames: Amb/s, Ammie, Berry

Age: 2029(28)yo,

Height: 5'10

Weight: 145lbs

Hair: Long black with white and grey streaks

Eyes: one Hazel eye - one amber eye

Disc: Splattered grey and light grey skin ghoul colored skin, She wears Kandi from other Ghoulettes, she wears 3 silver rings, she is the Clergy Florist, when she's at the ministry and rituals she wears the ghoul uniform, but when outside of those, she wears flowy earth toned fabrics.

Pronouns: She/Her

Instruments: Bass, Piano, Vocals, Tambourine

Ghoul Type: Multi Ghoul (Aether, Aura, Fortune) -----> Mate: Swiss, Aurora

Name: Asmodeus

Nickname: Asmo, Deus, Ozzie, Momo

Age:1,829 (23)yo

Height: Ghoul form 5'11, Glamoured: 4'11

Weight: 115lbs,

Hair: short curly mohawk

Ethnicity: African American / Caribbean

Eyes: has green eyes that creep people out but when glamoured they are dookie brown

Description: ghoul skin is darkish gray with lighter gray splatters, has a septum, womb tatt, wears a gold bracelet on the left wrist, wears the ghoul uniform but when not in uniform stays true to their nature (a whore), Ram-like horns that are decorated with gold chains, gold ankle cuff from mountain, gold arm cuffs from phantom, spaded tail with a red heart on the spade (Glamoured: Brown skin that has patches of lighter skin sometimes chooses to leave eyes green.) When scared or anxious they poof into a bat(has to do with being part quintessence), has ADHD, has phonic tics (echolalia), frog blinks, has an attention span the size of a pea unless it's mountain or phantom talking. Has sensitive hearing and doesn't like touching food often eats with gloves or is fed by Mountain. When not a total whore you can find Ozzie being a big baby whether it be with Phantom or Mountain. Got in a fight with another ghoul that's the reason there is a scar across their nose. When not on the road with the band Ozzie plays music at a lounge inside the ministry that he opened (lots of stuff happens there that shall not be mentioned), When summoned they stayed glued to Eros not talking and constantly covering their ears until they got used to being on the topside. Eros and Rain introduced Ozzie to Mountain hoping that being around an Earth Ghoul would help getting used to things. He is scared of a blender.

Ghoul Type: Multi Ghoul (Earth Ghoul & Lust)

Instruments: Trumpet, piano, bass, drums, and cello ( is secretly good at singing but has a somewhat a low ass voice)

Eros (Ghoulie): 

Age: 892(20)yo

Height : Ghoul: 5’4 Glamoured: 5’0

Weight 175 lbs

Ethnicity: Native American (Navajo tribe)

Hair: Short dark brown wavy, swept to either side (kinda like Cosmos but shorter) dyed streaks (color varies) Eyes: Unglamoured: fluctuates range from dark red, purple, pink, and white or will be a mix like a rainbow of those colors. Glamoured: Dark brown, looks black

Ghoul Type: Multi Ghoul (Fire, Quintessential, Lust, Air) → Mate: Rain

Pronouns: He/Him

Gender: Trans Male (FTM) but fluctuates from feminine clothing appearance to masculine

Instruments: Guitar, Vocals (Tenor to high soprano range), Keyboards

Description: Ghoul skin is Darker gray with black ombre effect on ends of fingers/hands, ears (medium pointed), and tail, Glamoured: skin is dark tan. Horns are medium size, black, curl in spiral like a ram’s horns with a silver ring that has small blue diamond (from Rain awe) on left side but will occasionally wear it on his left ring finger in his glamoured form and sometimes in his unglamoured form, tail is long and thin, spade is a heart shape with three small silver hoop piercings on one side all in a row, has womb tatt, Piercings: snake bites, nostrils, septum, eyebrow (right side), ears, three column on one side of spade tip, wears as much kandi as he can (gifts from rituals), black hoop earrings with a pentacle and inverted cross, nostril piercings are connected with silver chain that goes over top of nose, septum is just simple silver hoop as well as snake bites and eyebrow, nails are short black, two middle fingers have capricorn and pisces constellation on black color, scar on lower outside of right eye from his previous abusive mate he killed, wears ghoul uniform without cape, prefers to wear prequelle ghoul mask outside of rituals cuz it makes him feel more masculine but will wear impera mask if he has to, outside of rituals he dresses like a whore on fem days, really short mini skirts, thigh highs, garter belts, chains, all that type of stuff, masc days, baggy cargo pants, chains, baggy band tees, arm warmers, doc martins or converse same goes for fem days, wears eyeliner no matter what every day, autistic, anxiety, depression, cptsd, ADHD, echolalia (also comes from the autism), sensitive hearing, hates certain textures,hase a specific way he has to do things and a specific routine that he has to follow oe else he will freak out (autistic as hell),will go non verbal when overstimulated or will full on start crying if it’s bad enough, Rain usually knows what to do and will help him calm down in like 5 minutes (really helpful if the meltdown is less than 10 min before the ritual starts), he also age regresses, hella kinky its criminal, concerning attachment issues to the PapaIV plushia literally carries him around and takes care of him like his own child, Rain is a little uneasy around the plushia cuz its so ugly but he loves Eros so he doesn’t mind it and helps “take care” of him when Eros leaves him with Rain, was terribly frightened and did not speak at all when he was summoned (kind of a problem since he does backing vocals), hard time adjusting to new places and new routines but Rain helped him get more comfortable and brought him out of his shell, he would hide from the other ghouls and Copia in his room under the bed and would rarely come out for activities and meal times when first summoned, acts like a brat and a whore now that he's used to the others

#ureternalmajesty #nameless ghouls #namelessghoulettes #ghouls #ghoulettes #the band ghost #ghost bc #crackic #me and the besties writing #ghostbc #papa emeritus iv #evil seestor

[transexualbutchfagdyke]

*Chills voice*

№15: Burger King foot lettuce. The best thing you'd want in your ask box are asks about your OCs. But what if, instead of genuinely thoughtful and interesting questions, a beloved mutual would send weird meme messages into it?

anyway sorry for that beginning part, I am not in a good mental state. Tell me the general info about your OCs. Like, how many of em do you have and who are they generally

FHFJFBEKFJD no ur good irs funny <3

so I have. so many ocs. like so so many. but I'd say I have. maybe like 7 main ones, really. so I'll give a quick talk ab each so (hint hint friends lol) if anyone wants to ask ab them u have more to work off of <3.

Ace: he/him, it/its, various neos. my fursona. literally me. doesn't have a "story" really since he's more of just a mascot. just me as a dog, really.

Cameron: ve/vim/vis, it/its. purple dog creature w Mohawk and gages. Ve ran away from home, hopped on a freight train, and landed in a random town, homeless, with vis backpack the only thing to vis name. then it met Damien, who it became close friends with and have a friends tk lovers arc with. at some point formed a garage band as the singer. (band name pending)

Damien: he/him. grey and white kinda demon dog. got kicked out and practically disowned by his parents. lives in his van. met Cameron and became friends w vim. smokes a lot of weed w cam, guitar player in band. works at the pizza place by the vape shop.

James: he/xe. blue toned leopard. works at the vape shop by the skatepark. friends w Damien and subsequently Cameron. trades weed for fresh pizza from Damien. super laid back dude. bass player in the band

Izz: she/they. grey and blue opossum. unemployed and still lives with her parents but her parents aren't home a lot. she has some side hustle i haven't decided on yet but not an official job. she's the drummer.

Melancholy: she/he/they. dragon. completely different universe. Forest god/protector. kind if you're not a threat to nature :)

Briar: he/him. brown and green dragon. also completely different universe, separate from Melan or the others. runs a flower shop! has a crush on like every customer. loves to sing, wears a red rose flower crown a lot

#need to come up w a good band name fr #ratt squeaks #my mischief #squeakers #my ocs #was that my oc tag lol #oc tag #may use that instead

[ramblingwreck]

Cast Page

THE RAMBLING WRECK

Ysbrand “Izzy” Brinson (he/him). “I’ve always taken the safe option. I mean, I’m a priest of the goddess of war and I’ve never been in battle.”

Born July 8, 1461 (25). Rivara, SRR.

Human-Orc Hybrid (Rivaran/High Orc).

Height 6’1” (185 cm). Weight 223 lb (101 kg).

Skin pale green. Hair black, dyed blue, short mohawk. Eyes black.

Izzy grew up in a relatively typical middle-class household. His father, Brent, is Rivaran and his mother, Roxana, is an orc Brent met while guarding a caravan. He had always dreamed of joining the priesthood, because of the stories the temple priest, a retired adventurer, told in his sermons. Izzy was a bright and studious acolyte, and was one of the best junior priests at the temple of Baduhes he grew up attending, but he left because he was bored being a temple priest and wanted to practice in the field.

Kristy Brushtop (she/her). “I’m Kristy. Most people call me Poison Ivy, but you can call me whatever you want.”

Born March 22, 1459 (27). Belcorno, SRR.

Halfling (Underhill).

Height 2’11” (89 cm). Weight 31 lb (14 kg).

Skin deep tan. Hair blonde, dyed hot pink, unkempt mohawk. Eyes hazel brown, colored contacts vary daily. Teeth filed to points.

Kristy is Tellus’ equivalent of a rock star. She was the lead singer and bass lutist for a band out of Freeport called the Goblins, until she was arrested for obscenity due to her stage outfit, during a police raid on the Toothed Hen. The Hen’s owner, Whitey Cabot, advocated for her and got her sentence reduced from 15 years in prison to 5 years’ exile. She is adventuring until she makes enough to buy her way back into the Council’s good graces and get her performer’s license back.

Puck de Kers (they/them). “I miss the beer we used to brew at St. Lucentus’. It was clear and strong. I don’t miss the schnapps. It was strong, but we were never clear.”

Found September 3, 1458 (28). Südenstadt, Suden.

Human-Elf Hybrid (Unknown/High Elf).

Height 5’7” (170 cm). Weight 142 lb (64 kg).

Skin pale silver blue. Hair purple with green highlights, short and messy. Eyes violet, slotted pupils.

Puck was left as a foundling at the House of the Order of St. Lucentus and spent their entire life cloistered there. High elves were notorious for discriminating against hybrid children, so their parents most likely assumed they would find better acceptance at the monastery. The abbess recognized that Puck was a master of the physical and disciplinary arts of the Order, but had no sense of the outside world, and ordered them to spend at least six months adventuring to learn the ways of the world.

Metapeset “Uncia” Kleftis (she/her). “Unlike some of us, I actually took notes when Greasy hired us.”

Born December 6, 1469 (17). Freeport, SRR.

Cambion (Valefor).

Height 5’7” (169 cm). Weight 131 lb (59 kg).

Skin lilac. Hair white, short and slicked back. Eyes bright blue, cross pupils. Horns gray black, run along her temples.

Uncia’s family are wealthy merchants, and she grew up in the Hillside Park neighborhood of Freeport. While her parents are very loving, they spent her life preoccupied with business and social pursuits, and she grew up feeling neglected. As a result, she spent as much of her childhood at the home of her neighbor Niccolo “Smokey Joe” Scalfire, a high-ranking figure in the Cambion Syndicate, as in her own home. When she was 16, she taught herself how to use lockpicks, and started breaking into houses around the area. At first she just did it for fun, but eventually she started stealing small valuables. To protect her from her own recklessness, her “Uncle Nick” hired her to keep an eye on one of his investments. Her parents think she is on a camping trip with friends.

Drusilia Meliscient (she/her). “Racist stereotypes aside, do I look like I’ve had to pick up a bow since childhood?”

Born December 22, 1371 (114). Ville des Bois, Galòn.

Elf (Wood Elf).

Height 5’6” (167 cm). Weight 108 lb (49 kg).

Skin burnished copper-green. Hair black, lined fade. Eyes green, slotted pupils.

Dru’s family moved from Galòn to Port au Sel, Blackwater when she was very young. They were refugees fleeing the anti-Wood Elf pogroms that swept across Galòn after they were blamed for the kingdom’s loss of its premier colony. She is part of a generation of Galonic wood elves that not only produced more sorcerers, but ones of unique abilities born of the stresses of their circumstances, known as the Riot Born. She is a member of the anti-monarchist terrorist group called the Hand of Three, using adventuring as cover to allow her to move around Cadma freely.

Betha Trauthammer (she/her). “Before you ask, it means ‘from a place of loving kindness.’ The maul is a coincidence. I just like to hit things.”

Born June 3, 1466 (20). Freeport, SRR.

Human (Alemmian).

Height 4’8” (142 cm). Weight 170 lb (77 kg).

Skin pale. Hair red, Viking undercut. Eyes green.

Betha was born in Freeport to Alemmian immigrant parents. Her parents died in a cholera outbreak when she was 3 and she spent the next ten years in a Baduhian orphanage. When she aged out, she joined the Red Street Panthers and over the next six years became an underboss and respected leader of the gang. She has been to prison twice, for violence and loan sharking activities. Six months before the beginning of the story, an incident occurred that convinced her to go straight and begin adventuring.

#fantasy #writing #my characters #tellus #ramblingwreck

[longnerd]

The coffee buzz

It is the only habit-forming psychoactive drug we routinely serve to our children (in all those sodas and chocolate bars). The drug is encountered not just at the soda fountain or the espresso bar but also in diet pills and pain relievers. The dual power to counter physical fatigue and increase alertness is part of the reason caffeine ranks as the world's most popular mood-altering drug, eclipsing the likes of nicotine and alcohol. Really all they've found is a new kind of caffeine delivery system." They get you out of an energy slump and make you more alert. "But we've known for centuries that caffeinated drinks work. "The kids in the clubs, they think they've happened upon this great new invention," says Neil Stanley, director of sleep research at the Human Psychopharmacology Research Unit at Britain's University of Surrey. One 8.3-ounce (0.25-liter) can has two to three times the amount of caffeine as a 12-ounce (0.35-liter) can of soda. The active ingredient in the hugely successful Austrian product Red Bull is a solid jolt of caffeine, blended with a handful of other ingredients. I drink these two tins, it's like drinking a pint of speed."įor Lee Murphy and other habitués of the all-night club scene around the world-not to mention a legion of marathon runners, mountain bikers, fighter pilots, college crammers, and late-night truckers hoping to cover another hundred miles (160 kilometers) before turning in-the canned concoctions marketed as energy drinks represent a fizzy new manifestation of one of mankind's oldest stimulants: caffeine. "By four or five in the morning you're totally blotto," the 29-year-old London nurse explains. "It's like putting your whole system on fast-forward," Lee Murphy shouts above the din as he glides across the floor with four-inch-high (10-centimeter-high) soles on his dancing shoes, a gold ring in his chin, and a slender silver and blue can of Red Bull energy drink in each hand. At seven in the morning we have trouble getting them out the door." And the kids say, 'I've had eight Red Bulls-I'm flying!' They'll dance right round the clock. "That's when we get the real rush at the bar for Red Bull. "Actually, we usually see a revival about half four or so in the morning," says Egg night manager Simon Patrick. But after a long night of liquor, drugs, tobacco, and earthshaking noise, most are still vigorously, and happily, strutting their stuff across that trembling wood floor. at the popular London club Egg, and a few dancers have collapsed on the sofas or taken refuge at the bar. Through a purple haze of smoke and sweat the strobe lights' red glare illuminates the dancing couples: men with mohawks and painted faces, women in vinyl skirts so micro they serve no functional purpose. Over and over, the throbbing chorus of a dance hit explodes out of a battery of seven-foot-tall (2.1-meter-tall) speakers so powerful that the wood dance floor trembles, earthquake style, with every reverberating bass note. We do what we can."Power! Money! Lust! Sex!" "Power! Money! Lust! Sex!" Second only to watching children get their legs caught in the escalator steps, it is an amusing and yet annoying children's plaything, turning a calm afternoon into Peewee's Playhouse.Īs for the people and the atmosphere and the staff at this particular location, we here at LAist can only point you to their water damage, their closed doors and their lack of open-ness, which has sadly prevented us from giving the ironically closed coffee stop its due time in what some have called the "most awesome coffee shop coverage specifically tailored to one chain ever." Monitored by security forces, the carousel sits below the Coffee Bean balcony, giving java-drinkers the opportunity to get whiplash by watching the machine spin around and around and around and around. But more important than the close-by Color Me Mine shop or the sushi restaurant is the fact that this Coffee Bean shopping center has it's own carousel! The shop itself, when it is open, sits on the second floor of an elaborate cookie-cutter valley shopping center, covered in tan stucco, outdoor crown molding and a pair of elevators.

#The coffee buzz

[paraphernaliawagon]

plot of a shitty comic book i wrote and drew in about 1 week for my “senior project” in high school (i’d forgotten all about it but was just looking at my old shit):

-in 2017 (6 years in the future) every state in the usa passes a law banning all non-english languages

-this hurts society in many ways, but what we get to see a 30-year-old bass who is unemployed because opera is effectively illegal now, protests the law by singing kaspar’s vengeance aria from “der freischutz” on top of a parking garage. he gets arrested

-his little sister, who is a weird punk with red and black hair, decides she needs to protest too and drags her best friend (who has a purple and green mohawk) along. they skip school to hang out at the mall where they ask random people to sign their petition but everybody ignores them and mall cops start hassling them. they decide to give up and go eat gelato (mysteriously the cops are not enforcing the law against the restaurant signage in italian). the waitress signs their petition.

[nikwestbass]

Wishing big brother #Snoop a Happy Birthday! 🎂🎈 https://instagr.am/p/CGlZp5DHSRS/

#Nikwest #female bass players #mohawk #purple mohawk bass #best girl bass #best bassist #best female

[adobe-outdesign]

can i ask your opinion on toxel and toxtricity? personally i cant find myself liking them, but i cant place why. toxel especially looks like it could be very endearing but i just cant get into its design, yknow?

While I like Toxtricity a lot, for reasons I'll get into in a bit, I'm not a huge fan of Toxel. I think I've mentioned this before, but personally I'm not a huge fan of baby Pokemon that lean into looking more like human babies instead of animal babies, and Toxel's "diaper" and distinctly non-salamander esq cheeks really don't do it for me.

But I'm also not big on it because it doesn't feel like it adds anything to the line conceptually. What does a baby-esq salamander have to do with the rest of the line being punk musicians? Because they're both loud? It just doesn't add anything, and I feel like Toxtricity could've stood on its own, or maybe even had an evo instead of the g-max or something.

Just from a design standpoint, the bit of electricity on the forehead is supposed to lead into a mohawk, but it looks really out of place here, as nothing else on the body really matches it. It uses white because Toxtricity has two forms with different colors, but this makes the palette a bit too monotone for its own good--it feels like a lot of the features blend into each other. A bright pink or something would've at least popped more without repeating one of the form colors. I like the expression, but aside from that, this one's mostly a miss for me.

Thankfully, things improve significantly when we get to Toxtricity, which has a great design. The punk look is a great theme and goes along well with the idea of it being a crested newt of some kind, and the colors pop nicely and convey the electric-typing well. I particularly like the body shape, which avoids becoming too human by making the torso and arms long while giving it relatively short legs. It also keeps the head and body flowing into each other instead of keeping them seperate like a lot of anthro designs would do.

I love the head region specifically; the way the mohawk flows down the head and then is complemented by the secondary color works great, especially with how the spikes on the head then flow down to match the direction of the mohawk. Good stuff.

My only real design complaints would be that there are maybe one too many details on the lower body. The leg stripes aren't needed, as there's already plenty of the secondary color on the chest and mohawk. Likewise, I could've done without the waist piece; maybe just have a few spikes directly connect to the torso there, which would keep the body from being too smooth while not feeling so busy.

The cords on the chest also feel like a bit much--both in the sense that they're detailed but also in the sense that they break up the underbelly color in an unpleasant way--but they're based off of actual guitar strings and I'm not sure where else you'd put them, plus the way they can strum them to generate electricity is neat, so I'll give that a pass.

The idea of this line having two forms, one based off an electric guitar and one based off a bass guitar, is a great idea. I'd say the execution is pretty nice too, changing up just enough details that the two look different enough but also clearly read as just two different forms.

Between the two, I think I prefer the amped more than the low key a little. Mostly because the bright yellow has better contrast against the purple than the low key's blue, and the overall look of the head and mohawk is a bit nicer. The cords look better on the low key however, both due to the placement and the way there's fewer of them, so they both have good things going for them.

The g-max is surprisingly good as well. I like how both colors are combined, which both accounts for both forms but also make it look appropriately powered-up. The crazy eye looks sick, and is appropriate considering this thing is effectively high off its own toxins, like a true rockstar.

Most importantly, though, I love that it's quadrupedal here, along with the weird salamander tongue and flatter feet. I don't mind the originals at all, but having a version of it that's a little more salamander-esq is a great way to handle the g-max, and it makes it look pretty threatening as well.

The only thing I don't like here--aside from the leg stripes, but those were on the originals anyway--is the waist piece again. The idea of a radio tower/tesla coil tail isn't bad per say, but the pink isn't working well with the blue and yellow because they're all similar shades compared to the much darker purple of the body. Having the tesla coils on there just feels too busy as well, and the tail feels like it needs to slant back at more of an angle to match the mohawk. In general, I'd make the tail area the dark purple, get rid of the spikes and the tesla coils, and just have the tower there. Or alternatively, run the mohawk down the body and have it jut out at the end to form the tower tail that way.

But yeah, as a whole, Toxtricity is great, with good forms and a neat design that has a clear concept and nice colors. My only issue with the line is that Toxel feels pointless, and possibly could've been dropped entirely; aside from that, these are some solid punk rock salamanders.

#toxel #toxtricity #pokemon #pokemon reviews

[glamrockerfredbear]

Hello^^ May I have a match up, I’m Achilles!

I’m a gender-neutral & bisexual! I’m 5’7 leaning more on the chubbier side. I have shoulder length brown hair with blonde streaks at the front. I have hazel eyes and lots of freckles, I also wear glasses and have a few scars around my body that I find lowkey cool. My MBTI type is ENTX - A, I’m also an Aries. I’m usually pretty self reserved and observant when first getting to know someone, but after a bit I start to open up and show my more goofy side! I always crack jokes and laugh at almost anything (very dark humor). I love talking and hanging out but I also adore reading (Books, manga, fanfics ect..) or listening to various types of music. I also game a bit, usually with friends. I’m a very observant and curious person, and though I act hyper and crack jokes a lot I’m usually very sleepy and take lots of naps. I’m pretty laid back and chill for the most part, usually getting hyper when I’m with friends. Butttttt yeah that’s it!

Bro 🦭 <it’s a seal!!!

. . . Your Fazbear Entertainment matchup is 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 !

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Okay so, Monty likes your glasses! It matches his own sunglasses. He saw you walk into the PizzaPlex with your glasses and he said 'yep that is the one' and did nothing but follow you around with Roxanne questioning him.

"Monty get back on this stage goddammit!"

He also loves your hair. You've inspired him to try out dye and that's how you ended up with a Monty with a rust red mohawk and some experimental purple stripes.

Monty doesn't read any books or anything, to be honest. He's either too busy doing stupid things with the STAFF bots or tuning his bass. When he catches you reading whatever he gets really curious. But Monty being Monty he doesn't ask you what you're reading like a normal man. Instead, he likes to sneak up behind you and tower over you so he can spook you.

Sometimes it feels like only Monty understands your dumb jokes because Freddy will always gasp and go 'that's horrible!', Chica will make a confused noise and Roxanne most of the time just shakes her head. But Monty? he laughs along with you. You two like to spend your free hours watching people falling off of whatever and your laughing makes the STAFF bots shush you both.

Let me get something straight: Monty is the biggest idiot of the PizzaPlex. He'll do things so you can either look at him or laugh. I'm talking he'll try to balance himself on 5 stacked wet floor signs and fall off and probably scratch his paint. Or maybe if he's feeling especially stupid, he'll climb Freddy's statue and take a tumble you know hurt. You know that when he says "HEY C'MERE LOOK" it's something he should not be doing.

And it's funny every time. And you can't even feel bad for him because he got himself in those situations.

You two will definitely laze out together. No ifs, whats or buts. Monty likes to laze about when the PizzaPlex isn't incredibly hectic so of course, that means he drags you into his laziness. Lots of sluggish cuddling and scrolling mindlessly through social media with a lazy gator resting his snout on your shoulder.

No matter how tall you are, Monty will always be taller. So you will catch him resting his arms on your head or watching you struggle to get something from afar. He’s a bit of an ass about it.

You and him are both incredibly observant and knowing of your surroundings! Monty mostly does it since the PizzaPlex has been having…issues with children going missing. He wants you to be safe even if you’re not a child. Who knows, maybe that person could be targeting you next.

On the topic of Monty protecting you, he is incredibly protective of you. The last thing he wants is for you to be stuck in a first aid station with a dumb old STAFF bot or worse, Freddy. Monty will not let you do stupid stunts the same way he does unless you 101 reassure him that you won’t get hurt. He couldn’t care less if he got hurt but if you got hurt? He might not even perform!

Monty’s love language is extremely physical! Always touching and hugging. And I don’t believe Monty is extremely sexual but I do believe his humor is right up that alley so don’t be surprised if he starts saying some dumb adult joke. He will once a year say ‘that’s what she said’ and make you groan. He absolutely loves it.

Just love this idiot please. He’s got some issues but he needs some love.

#fnaf matchup #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #montgomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #fluffy matchups #alligators scare me #I hate his roars sorry Monty

[wild-karrde]

I’m back again 👀. Last one from me for this fabulous 400 followers celebration!! What aboutttttt Gregor + “I’ll take that bet”?

OK OK OK SO TJ I MADE IT REAL FILTHY I HOPE THAT'S OK. Also, since I am unable to help myself, I put all of my OCs from the 28th Combat Wing in there. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Pairing: Gregor x f!Reader

Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE - slight exhibitionism, fingering, implied PiV, language, Gregor's a menace)

The bass of the music in 79s was damn near deafening when you stepped inside the bar, immediately spotting the magenta and grey paint of the 28th Wing’s armor in their favored booth against the wall. What stood out more was the yellow hatch marked commando armor sitting amongst them. 

Fucking Gregor. Dammit. 

Maker alive, he was infuriating, but you weren’t about to let him ruin your night out. You had to cash out on all of the booze Chuckles owed you at some point, and he was so rarely planetside, your opportunities were limited. But why did it have to be the night that asshole of a commando was also around? 

You’re not sure what exactly about Gregor gets under your skin. Maybe it’s his cocky smirk or his stupid hair or that ridiculous giggle that sounds like an inebriated fathier whinnying. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely unbothered by you. No matter what it is, Gregor’s got you figured and loves to dig his finger into that wound whenever he gets the chance. He’s already spotted you from across the room, raising an eyebrow as you start heading in his direction. 

Not tonight, asshole. 

You square your shoulders, swaying your hips a bit more than necessary. None of them have ever seen you out of your mechanic’s jumpsuit, and you’d picked your favorite (and only) dress for the occasion. After all, you deserved a little bit of attention. And maybe a good lay. If you could find one.

Gregor says nothing as he sips his beer, but his eyes never leave you, raking from your toes to your eyebrows as you nudge Chuck and slide into the booth next to him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m saving this seat for some greasy mechanic I owe a few drinks to,” Chuckles teases. 

“Oh, my apologies. Mind if I keep it warm until she gets here?” you joke back, playfully ruffling his mohawk, which is currently a deep purple color. 

Crater rolls his eyes while Stones leans over, whispering that you look very nice, making you duck your head bashfully. Chuck flags down a waiter droid. 

“What’ll it be, Bolts?” he asks, invoking the nickname he’d given you.”Just don’t break my non-existent bank account.” 

“I’ll have a whiskey, please,” you request. Gregor raises an eyebrow again. 

You feel annoyance tighten your chest. “What?” you ask. 

He shrugs. “Just didn’t peg you for the whiskey type.” 

“Oh, do enlighten me as to what type you thought I’d be, Captain.”

“Alright, alright, your seat’s not even warm yet,” Chuck mutters. He leans closer, speaking directly into your ear. “What is your damage with him?” 

You sniff. “Nothin’. I just asked a question.” 

Chuck rolls his eyes before sliding the whiskey in front of you. “Just drink this so you’ve got less of a stick up your ass.” 

It doesn’t take too many whiskeys before you feel yourself start to relax, some of the tension leaving your shoulders. You laugh at Chuckles’s terrible jokes, chat with Crater about the last bolo ball game, and even get Sticks to come out of his shell a bit. The entire time, you notice Gregor’s stealing glances at you, and your confidence grows. 

Let the bastard look.

You lean forward to take another sip of whatever drink Chuckles has ordered for you now. You let your cleavage rest on the table as your tongue wraps around the straw, pulling it between your lips. You glance up in time to see Gregor watching you over the rim of his glass. His eyes are on your breasts, but they quickly flick up to meet your gaze. You roll your eyes at his obvious leering, leaning back into the crook of Chuckles’s shoulder. He seems somewhat surprised, but doesn’t move to pull away. Gregor says nothing, but something in his eyes seems to flare for a moment. 

You’re imagining things. 

As the evening progresses, Crater graciously excuses himself to head back to the barracks and catch up on some reports. As soon as their commanding officer disappears, tongues loosen, and suddenly the conversation turns to romantic encounters. Unfortunately, the boys haven’t spent enough time planetside to rack up anything too salacious, so it isn’t long before you become the target of the conversation. 

“C’mon, Bolts. What’s been your wildest night?” 

“A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Who said anything about kissing?” 

“And since when are you a lady?” You elbow Chuck for that comment, shooting him a glare.

“Oh, come on. There has to have been something that you’d consider memorable.” 

You shrug. “Not lately.” 

“No game or nothing worth writing home about?”

“You guys sure are nosey.” 

“We’ve got to live vicariously through you, Bolts.”

You laugh, growing bolder as the liquor in your stomach warms you. “There was a guy a few weeks back. He did his best, and it was probably better sex than I’d had in a while, but that’s not saying much with the losing streak I’ve had going. Thinking of giving up and just going with the battery-powered lovers from here on out. At least then I get to finish.” 

Stones groans in despair for your lackluster love life and Chuckles cackles loudly. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em, Bolts.” 

You shrug. “It’s been a struggle.”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.” 

Gregor had been quiet for the last little while, but that comment from him draws your attention. And your ire.

“And what would you know about making a woman cum, Captain?” you sneer. 

He grins cheekily. “Plenty.” 

“I bet you couldn’t make a woman orgasm if your life depended on it,” you bite back. 

Gregor swirls his whiskey in the light, watching the legs of the liquid trail down the side of the glass. 

“I’ll take that bet.” 

Your eyes lock onto one another, and for reasons you can’t explain, you feel heat pool between your legs. You adjust in the booth, and while the others are guffawing about something else Chuckles said, Gregor notes the way your thighs rub together. He smirks, and you feel that anger flicker in your chest, along with something else. After another few minutes, you excuse yourself, unsure of where you’re heading.

Just need to get away from him for a minute. 

Your feet carry you towards the back of the bar where it’s dark. You pass plenty of bodies pressed together, panting, sweating, and moaning in the darkness. Suddenly, you feel a hand in the small of your back, pressing you towards one unoccupied corner that’s far from any prying eyes. You whirl to find Gregor smirking down at you. 

“I-I was looking for the ‘freshers,” you mutter. 

“Now love, I don’t think that’s true at all,” he responds. “I think you were looking for trouble.” 

You regain your bearings, scoffing at him as he backs you into the corner. You feel the heat grow between your legs, and you hate how your panties are sticking to you as he pins you against the wall, one arm braced against the wall. You jut your chin out defiantly.

“What do you want, Gregor?” 

“Same thing as you.”

“And what’s that?”

He chuckles before leaning closer to you, his voice raspy in your ear. “To make you cum.” 

You snort indignantly, but your legs are trembling. 

“The question is,” he continues. “How best to make that happen? Are you one of those lovers that wants to be taken roughly, with me buried deep in that sopping cunt of yours while I hold a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet? Or do you need me to build you up more slowly, take my time until you fall apart?” His fingers trail up your thigh, slipping under the fabric of your dress before digging into your skin slightly. He presses forward, slotting a knee between your legs, and your breathing quickens. His eyes are watching you as his fingers find the hem of your panties on your hip, and he twists the string of delicate lace around his fingers. 

“Now this feels like something you were hoping someone would take off of you tonight. That the case, love?” 

You swallow hard. 

“You want me to take these off of you?” 

“No.” 

He pulls his hand away immediately, clearly thinking he’s misread things, but you lock your fingers around his wrist. His eyes find yours in the dim lighting, the question in them apparent.

“I want you to make me cum with them on.” 

His trademark smirk reappears, his fingers slipping back under your dress, drifting between your legs to press your clit through the thin fabric. 

“All worked up just from thinking about me? You’re practically soaked,” he murmurs. 

“You talk a lot,” you mutter. 

He chuckles against your ear. “I think you like when I talk.” His fingers find the hem of your panties between your legs, and you feel him push the lacy fabric aside, tracing through your dripping folds. “I think you like hearing all the ways that I think about fucking you, and trust me, I’ve thought about it a lot.” His first finger finds its way inside you, and you gasp, hitching one leg over his hip as your hands fly to his shoulders to find purchase. Gregor’s watching you as your lips part, your head thunking back against the wall as he slips a second finger inside you. 

“That’s it, love. Let go for me. Let me take care of you.” 

“I really don’t like you,” you try to snap, but it comes out more of a whine. 

He chuckles. “I think you want to dislike me, but that’s becoming more difficult.” 

Your reply dies on your tongue, replaced by a gasp. His fingers are so thick and deliciously calloused. When they finally find that spongy place inside you, you dig your teeth into your lower lip to stifle a moan. He crowds you further against the wall, bearing down on that place inside you. “None of that now. Let me hear you.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“I might let you if you’re nicer,” he teases.

You dig your nails into the back of his neck, and he gasps lightly before he nudges the strap of your dress aside with his nose and bites down on the flesh of your shoulder. You groan out his name. 

“Gregor.” 

“That’s right. You like this, don’t you? Being back here where anyone could see you falling apart on my fingers. You want them to watch, hm? I could call the others over. Have them watch while you finally get what you deserve.” You whimper, clenching around his fingers as he slips a third one in. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You’re filthy, love. Maybe another time. Right now, I want you all to myself.” 

You’re practically riding his palm right now, the man you’ve hated for months, but Maker above, you’re not about to stop. The music is faint enough back in this corner that you can hear the obscene wet noises coming from between your legs. You’re both sweating, foreheads pressed together, panting in each other’s faces. 

“Gregor, I’m close.”

“I know you are, love. Be good for me and soak my hand, yeah?” 

You glare at him with heated eyes, mustering your last bit of defiance. “Make me.” 

He sucks at the place just below your ear. “With pleasure.” With that, he presses against your clit with his thumb, circling slowly with just the perfect amount of pressure. You fly towards the edge and topple over, your vision whiting out as you cum hard. Gregor presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your scream, and you bite down on his bottom lip as you ride out your high. When the aftershocks have finally subsided, you slump against the wall as Gregor pulls his hand from between your legs, and he holds you up, resting his chin on your shoulder as he pants against your skin. 

“I… still don’t like you.” 

He chuckles. “Keep telling yourself that, love.”

When your breathing finally steadies and your legs become usable again, he stands back, watching you as you straighten. You try to recompose yourself, smoothing your hair, and he grins. You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Looks like I won that bet.” He kisses you on the cheek, which infuriatingly makes your face flush with heat. You glare at him as he turns to leave, but you grab his arm again. 

His expression is puzzled, and you relish in it as you step closer to grip his rock-hard length on the outside of his pants, making him gasp. You whisper directly into his ear, ensuring only he’ll hear. 

“Wait five minutes and then follow me outside. I’ll have a cab waiting.” 

“What for?” 

You kiss him, running your tongue over the inside of his lip before patting his cheek, enjoying the way he groans and the surprised look on his face. 

“Double or nothing. But this time you can't use your fingers.”

A/N: This ficlet got re-written and turned into a multi-part VERY SMUTTY series you can find here: The Blitz Series

Thanks for participating in my 400 Follower Celebration!

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @dnxgma @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @moonstrider9904 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501 @arctrooper69

#karrde writes #Karrde's 400 #400 follower celebration #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #captain gregor #nsft #lemon #lemony lemon #captain gregor x reader #captain gregor x you #gregor x reader #gregor x you #enemies to lovers #sort of #OC Chuckles #OC Sticks #OC Stones #OC Crater #clone OCs

[deepestfancloud]

The Dare -2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Author’s note: This is a series.

Warnings: This series contains intense fantasy scenes of hard kinks/ edgeplay, graphic sex, and harsh language. Beware: this is dark, weird, kinky read. The activities depicted therein are dangerous and are not meant to be an example of realistic BDSM.

Kinks/Fetishes within the series: Erotic humiliation, fearplay, painplay, knifeplay, consensual non- concent (CNC), orgasm denial, boot worship, spanking, crying, blowjobs, clowns, group sexual activities, spit, bondage, public play, bloodplay.

* My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Thank you! Xoxo

PART 2 – The Game

The truck door opened. Rafe was a tall guy, and he looked even taller in his tight jeans and lace-up leather boots. He was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his chest and was criss-crossed with some kind of leather straps - a harness? He’d had a mohawk in high school, but now his light brown hair was slicked back. As he hopped out of the truck and slammed his door shut, he carefully fit a shiny vinyl officer’s hat on his head.

“Oh my god, look down, look down, look down!”

Kiara tried to warn me, but I was too late. Rafe walked past our car and locked eyes with me, freezing me in my seat. He had one white contact in, giving an eerie look to his face, his other eye looking almost black in contrast. I gulped as he passed, unable to look away, unable to blink.

He grinned at me - a slow, appraising grin. Then he was gone, down the sidewalk toward the party. I sighed, slumping in my seat. Maybe he hadn't recognized me. Maybe he didn't remember me at all!

But I could remember. I could still picture Rafe’s face when he was escorted to the principal’s office. I’d known what JJ was going to do, and I’d texted Rafe the night before, the only text I’d ever sent him, telling him not to come to school. He’d come anyway. When all the boys were finally dragged out of the bathroom, Rafe had been the one taken away by the two campus guards. He’d had that big purple bruise on his left cheek, a drip of blood running down his chin from a split lip, and a grim smile on his face.

I felt weird as I thought about it, and squirmed uncomfortably. There was something scary about the way he’d looked, but I couldn’t get his face out of my head. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d come that day knowing what was going to happen, and pulled a knife on six-foot-three JJ Maybank and his jock friends.

I’d wanted to kiss him again as I saw him escorted off. I’d wanted to text him when I found out he’d been expelled. I wanted to tell him that I was proud he’d defended himself, that JJ had deserved the scare, that I didn’t blame him for bringing the knife.

I never did. I had a reputation to uphold and Rafe Cameron didn’t fit into it.

“What. A. Creep.” Kiara said, shoving open her door. “We’re avoiding him like the plague. Hopefully he gets kicked out.”

“Hopefully,” I muttered, as I slid on my heels. The shoes were strappy and tall, with a white filigree pattern that zipped all the way up to my knee. I caught my reflection in the car window and smiled. I loved making an entrance.

The walkway up to the house was lined with jack-o-lanterns, candles flickering inside their wide grinning faces. Plastic skeletons hung from the pillars beside the house's entry doors, and fake gravestones littered the grass across the front yard. The thumping bass of a live DJ pounded through my chest as I pressed the doorbell. It was only seconds before a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair and a glass of Sangria flung open the door.

“Oh my goooodddd, [Y/N]!” she screeched, wrapping me in a tight hug that squished me against her fake tits. “And Kiara, oh my god, welcome ladies!”

“Hi, Mrs. Peters,” I gave her a smile as we stepped into the entryway. Mrs. Peters was the literal definition of a “cool mom” - she was always present at her son’s parties, laughing, dancing, and drinking. She was one of those parents who didn’t really seem like a parent - but every now and then would drop some wisdom that could only come from decades of experience on the planet.

The pale cream walls and decorative mahogany table in the entry room had been strewn with fake cobwebs, and the light bulbs in the chandelier overhead switched out for blacklights. Lifelike mannequins of zombie babies were tucked into the corners and stared down at us from the stairway. The house was packed, as I expected. There were dozens of people I knew - some friendly, some not. Being captain of the cheerleading squad and dating the football team’s star quarterback had definitely earned me some enemies, even after graduation. I knew I hadn’t been the nicest person in high school either - but whatever. The past was the past.

Kiara and I poured ourselves some drinks and wandered the party, meeting up with friends and making small-talk, admiring the house’s creepy decor. Daniel had always made sure to go all-out with his party decorations. The sangria was held in a giant witch’s cauldron, the cheese dip had been molded into the shape of a brain, and even the hors d'oeuvres looked like creepy little spiders and severed fingers.

Outside, people dove into the heated pool and played drinking games at the several tables that had been setup to host beer pong and King’s Cup. The DJ played on the cobweb-strewn gazebo, wearing a bright red suit and devil horns. The backyard was large, covered with grass, with rows of bushes lining the stone wall that surrounded it.

Near the beer pong tables we finally found Daniel, shot-gunning a beer before he leaped - fully clothed - into the pool. But he hadn’t been drinking alone. He’d been chugging alongside none other than Rafe Cameron, who tossed aside his empty beer can with a smile and laughed as Daniel went diving.

I felt like I’d stepped into the Uncanny Valley. I’d been a little out of the loop since I started college, but this was all wrong. Why the hell was Rafe drinking with Daniel? Why was he surrounded by people who wouldn’t have looked twice at him in high school? Why -

“Why is he staring at you?” Kiara said, holding her cup up to her mouth to mask her lips. She was right: Rafe’s eyes had fallen on me and he had yet to look away. There was recognition in his eyes, and I wondered what memory came up for him first. Was it me glancing at him in silence as I walked through the halls holding JJ's hand? Or was it my face inches from his own before we kissed, as I whispered, “Promise not to tell?”

WIth a sudden sharp pain in my chest, I wondered if he hated me. Not like I cared about gaining the approval of a weirdo like him, but...the way he was looking at me didn’t feel hateful. He seemed curious, his eyes lingering over my face and then down, over my body. Of course he’d stare. Everyone stared. But somehow I still felt...what was this...guilt?

After all, I'd made-out with him and then immediately got back with the guy who'd been bullying him since freshman year. I’d teased him relentlessly, spread rumors about him, laughed at him. If that didn't make me look like an asshole, I didn't know what would.

“Hey-hey, ladies, welcome!” Daniel ran over, dripping from the pool, offering us hi-fives instead of hugs. Rafe’s gaze finally broke as Daniel clasped his hand companionably and said, “Nice job, bro. Just not fast enough!”

“This is so fucking weird,” Kiara whispered. “Since when are they friends?”

I shrugged, trying not to linger on the topic. The more I thought about it, and the more I looked at Rafe, the more awkward I felt. And “awkward” wasn’t a normal feeling for me at all.

A round of beer pong had just ended, so Kiara and I stepped up to challenge the winners. I had always been a competitive person - whether it was cheerleading or beer pong, I hated to lose. We sank the opposing team’s cups quickly, taking them down within a few minutes and getting a nice buzz while we were at it. With the game over, I realized that a small crowd had gathered to watch us play. Rafe was watching too. Watching me.

Again, the fear that he hated me gripped my chest, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around why I cared. I hadn’t seen or thought of him in years. Our kiss had faded into the background of my memories, as had all our tense interactions, all my cruel words and haughty looks. It had faded - until I saw him tonight. Now it all crashed back into me like a punch to the chest.

#rafe #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #drew starkey #drew #Outer Banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x reader

[serenawitchwriter]

BNHA fusion (Bakusquad/Todoroki)

TodoBaku

i pity endeavor

somehow angrier than bakugou? like it’s less of a tsundere, shouty way and more of a punk rock 100% ready to throw down at the slightest provocation

has less tolerance for spice but will eat it anyway

spicy noodles

a lot blunter with his actual thoughts

so much fire, i’m imagining because of Baku's chemical secretion they could possibly make some kind of plasma, though i doubt that makes scientific sense.

also shoots steam out of one their hands

spiky red and white hair, not split down the middle but streaky. a bit like natsuo only more integrated

red eyes, no heterochromia, but keeps the scar

handsome, but constantly looks a bit constipated

really self-critical

incredibly good at mocking people. easily makes people cry with his insults because they’ll attack the thing about you that you don’t like

surprisingly unaggressive towards midoriya. like bakugou’s rivalry/aggression toward him is somehow dampened by todoroki’s love of mido

also tolerant of specifically mina, uraraka, and kirishima. everyone else push their buttons to the point of pissing them off.

i’d like to see them fight dabi because it feels like they’d have similar vibes, except todobaku is less theater kid.

would absolutely wear a leather jacket

despite their angry punk energy, they still pretty anal about self care and schedules. like they’re straight edge nerds about everything but fighting

KiriTodo

chaotic

like they aren’t a bad person but they are a dumbass and the shit that they get up to is spectacularly wild

completely red hair, silky texture. either slicks it back or spikes it into a mohawk. depends on the day

still scarred, red and blue eyes.

shark teeth but in a softer shaped face

usually shirtless, especially when it’s inappropriate

will eat literally anything

incredibly insecure but honest about it

clingy to his friends in an almost desperate way. like his friends will always be their for him but even then he’s struggling to feel secure about it

slow burn anger, but is the most terrifying person to see angry. you do not want to see him get genuinely pissed

an incredibly kind person

fantastic with animals

another elemental quirk user

i have the mental image of a rock golem running at the enemy while on fire and covered in ice. again, avoid pissing him off

pauses a lot while talking and uses a lot of filler words like ‘like, um, and uh”. almost like a valley girl

deceptively smart and emotionally mature. like they have their moments of being profound, of getting where others are coming from, of doing something totally genius

but is also a dumbass the vast majority of the time. like you’d be shocked at how stupid he can be

can’t fucking read

affectionate towards Bakugou and Midoriya. thinks they’re all best friends. isn’t entirely wrong. loves Mina as well

cuddly as hell, but is not comfortable to cuddle with. he’s too hard and he’s never the right temperature

TodoMina

chaotic part 2

a weird combo, probably not very stable

candy cane colored curls, with a pink transition color in their hair. still has horns.

it’s hard to tell that they’re scarred with pink skin. heterochromic eyes, one blue, the other yellow with black sclara

has a creepy laugh

fully into being an alien and is attempting to convince people it’s true, not in a joking way.

more plasma options in terms of quirks. i don’t know how freezing or heating acid effects it, but the effect can probably be used for something

will do basically anything they put their mind to, no matter how absurd. once they make a decision they’re going to do it hell or high water

shift back and forth between being incredibly hyper and on the ball, and being exhausted and antisocial. 

overly invested in gossip and discovering the truth. nosy as hell

impossible to predict

probably into yoga?

manic pixie dream girl? definitely quirky

has a mean sense of humor, and is sometimes just mean in general. generally has good intentions but won’t hesitate to cut people down when they feel they ‘deserve it’

candy addiction

TodaKami

very stable

very funny and chill

stoner vibes regardless of if they do drugs

zones out constantly

black lightning in the white half, red lightning in yellow half of hair. fine and silky as hell

green eyes, no scar. probably needs glasses but doesn’t have them yet

weather powers. can make storms, clouds, effect temperature. can be effected by their own weather and injures themselves often

but is an op fighter anyway

both a memer and conspiracy theorist but in an entertaining way. could have a buzzfeed unsolved style show if they find the right skeptic. i feel like iida would be a cute partner for that. obviously todokami is the unhinged one

will eat literal garbage. i could see them eating from a dumpster because the pizza looked okay

rude mouth, says what he’s thinking regardless of how hurtful it is. isn’t intentionally trying to be mean.

obsessed with dragons

constantly tired. they sleep and sleep but it is never enough

pretty cuddly and quiet when zoned out

a fantastic hugger

baby

Todosero

weird but in an inexplicably normal way

like they’re not getting bullied for it, they’re not subverting society or being overly chaotic. they’re just kinda... odd.

possibly a fae in disguise?

fixed looking smile

scarred. small black eyes. hair is split to be red and white. but the roots are black

obviously still has tape elbows. quirk is probably some kinda fire and ice whip. makes a lot of icicles as well. has many creative applications, especially because they’re both range attacks

executive dysfunction anyone?

loves manga, particularly weird artsy kind, or horror and mysteries

will chill in high places for hours. probably makes a full spiderweb or cocoon or hammock.

just likes getting away from people

wears Hawaiian shirts casually. on the tame side

loves the beach

loves noodles more than life itself. has a mission to try every type of noodle

probably gets stuck places and gets lost easily

makes people uncomfortable. kind of person who just stands silently and stares at you. will wait until you notice him to speak. so sometimes he’ll just be standing silently behind you for five minute and than you’ll finally turn around and have a heart attack,

will otherwise jut kinda stand at the periphery of groups and stare blankly. like that vine of the guy disassociating at a party

never quite jives with the conversations, timing always seems off. they’re just really awkward

pretty fun loving given the opportunity. hanging out with friends is their favorite activity

vibes fairly well with ojiro and hagakure

TodoJirou

cool

makes ice puns, which is lame but gay/lesbian solidarity part 2

white and purple hair in a bob. no scar. has the earphone jacks. purple and silver eyes. petite

deserves to wear sunglasses at all times. probably doesn’t but they deserve to

incredibly chill

actually pretty lazy given the opportunity

still plays the bass and is quite passionate about it

husky singing voice. it’s good but unique, most suited towards indie stuff, not belting Broadway.

plays with earjacks constantly

in love with momo

powers aren’t particularly enhanced by each other. have to get pretty creative to make it effective. don’t mind that much, they aren’t trying to be number one, they’re just herre to help

probably always in a leather jacket

generally pretty sweet, especially towards close friends. it’s a quiet kindness. more shown by putting extra food on your plate when you’re not eating enough, instead of demanding you eat more verbally

sardonic

stable

easily annoyed, especially by injustice. if something is unfair they’ll get mad

generally incredibly mellow, one of the less feral fusion overall

(masterlist)

#fusion au #bnha #mha #bakusquad #todobaku #todomina #todokiri #todosero #todojirou #serenawitchwriter

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Scorching Waves Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an S2 date, 炙浪之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Features S2 Shaw!

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

MC: Mister, this is the place!

After paying the passenger fare, I hurriedly get off the car, but find that the entrance of Live House is already very crowded.

Sweeping my eyes across the area, I receive a shock.

Whether they are male or female, everyone here is donned in punk style: ripped shirts, leather outfits, jackets with rivets on them... A few people even have cool mohawk hairstyles.

At the side, the words “Rock ‘n’ Roll Night” are spray-painted on a wall. Below them is an eye-catching line--

"No entry if your attire doesn’t match the theme”

MC: ...

I look at my surroundings, then lower my head to look at my own officewear... Clearly, under such circumstances, I won’t be able to enter.

With uncertainty in my heart, I take out my phone and make a call.

After a few dial tones, Shaw’s languid voice drifts into my ear. 

Shaw: What’s up?

MC: I’m at the entrance of Live House now.

Shaw: You really came?

His sentence ends with an upward lilt, as though a little surprised.

MC: Yeah. Over the phone last night, didn’t you tell me to come over after my meeting? Since it’s a formal invitation from you, and you’re performing a new song, of course I couldn’t miss it.

Probably not expecting that I’d rush over in time, Shaw pauses at the other end of the line for a while.

Shaw: ...you’re pretty punctual. Are there many people outside? 

MC: Yeah. But the doors don’t seem to be open yet.

Shaw: Of course. After all, I just reached too. Who knew that Old Man would drag out the lesson...

MC: But what do the words on the wall mean? I didn’t know there was a dress code to watch the performance.

Shaw: You didn’t actually wear business attire over, did you?

Shaw’s laughter of ridicule drifts to my ear. Slightly angry, I grip the phone tightly. 

MC: If you keep laughing, I’m leaving!

Shaw: Tch, try to leave if you can. All right, wait where you are.

Shaw pauses, and the soft sound of breathing can be heard from the other end of the line. He seems to be stretching.

Shaw: I’ll pick you up.

-

Because of the way I’m dressed, a few staff members I walk past along the corridor to the break room can’t help but cast sidelong glances at me.

Entering the break room, I discover that there isn’t a single person inside.

MC: Eh, where are the other band members?

Shaw: They’re still on the way.

Shaw closes the door, then lies down on the sofa lazily. I once again check the time.

MC: But the performance is starting in half an hour. Don’t you guys need to rehearse?

Shaw: We’ve been prepared since a long time ago. Heading straight to the stage afterwards is fine. Come to think of it...

He tilts his head, looking me over.

Shaw: This is the first time I’m seeing someone wear business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: The fact that I could rush over already means a lot. Be contented.

Shaw: In that case, prepare yourself to be “saluted” by others later.

I lower my head to look at my outfit. It truly doesn’t suit the crowd.

Also, since there are so many people today, it wouldn’t be convenient to move around later on.

Just as I furrow my brows in vexation, Shaw suddenly speaks. 

Shaw: Hey, I have a suggestion.

Meeting his mischievous gaze, a bad feeling arises in my heart. 

MC: ...what are you planning to do?

Shaw: Since I didn’t notify you in advance, I thought of an idea.

He suddenly stands up and walks towards the wardrobe at the side.

After rifling through it for a while, Shaw takes out a black coloured leather jacket.

Shaw: Try it.

MC: ...is this yours?

Shaw: Why do you care about so many things? Just try it on.

I take the jacket from him. Skeptical, I bring it to my nose to give it a sniff - it has a faint peppermint scent. Looks like it’s pretty clean.

Watching my actions, Shaw gives me a subtle look, and releases a soft “hmph”.

Shaw: If you don’t want to wear it, forget it.

MC: Who says I’m not wearing it.

I snatch the jacket back. Although there are still some concerns in my heart, I can’t be picky considering the current circumstances.

The jacket is a little large, and hangs on my body loosely. However, it’s able to cover my short shirt. 

MC: How’s this?

Shaw: The way you’re dressed...

Shaw pauses, then chuckles softly.

Shaw: Looks pretty punk.

MC: I never thought watching a performance would be so troublesome... Why did you guys suddenly think of having a theme?

Shaw: Because it’s fun.

Shaw responds instantly.

Shaw: People who watch the performances range from working adults to students - all sorts of people. But after changing their outfits, no one will care about their identity. Before music, nobody’s different.

I look at Shaw, a little surprised. I originally thought this activity was just a spur of the moment for them, and didn’t expect that there’d be such a meaning behind it.

Just when I’m about to say something, the lights above my head suddenly flicker.

MC: What happened? Is there a problem with the lights? 

With a glance, Shaw answers indifferently.

Shaw: The voltage isn’t stable, that's all.

Before I can probe further, a series of knocks come at the door. A staff member opens the door, and tells Shaw--

Staff: Get ready, the performance is about to begin.

-

In Live House, there are a mass of bobbing heads as the restless crowd congregate near the stage.

After a short while, I’m pushed to the back.

MC: Do I have to squeeze through the crowd...

Looking at the crowd before me, which is so packed till there isn’t a single crevice, I'm at my wit’s end, and stand in place.

Man A: That bass player is quite interesting. My girlfriend likes him a lot.

Man B: Oh? You’re very magnanimous. Not jealous?

Man A: She just appreciates his musical abilities. He plays really well. See for yourself later.

The conversation between the two man standing in front of me drifts over to my ears. I can’t help but laugh. 

If Shaw knew how he was being commented on, I wonder what he’d think of it.

I whip out my phone, taking a few pictures of the scene.

“There are so many people here today! Seems like quite a number of them are here for you.”

After penning my text message, I send it to Shaw along with the photos.

The performance is about to begin. Despite thinking he wouldn’t reply, my phone suddenly vibrates.

A sentence flashes on the screen.

Shaw’s message: Why are you so far behind?

After a few seconds, another message appears. 

Shaw’s message: Don’t move around. I’ll look for you later.

I’m just about to reply. At this moment, the lights extinguish. The entire venue dives into pitch darkness, and the background music stops.

Without the hyping up of a host, and along with a flurry of shrieks, the band members enter the stage.

Purple light streams down slowly, shrouding the entire stage together with faint mist.

Shaw walks in last, his steps indolent. But his figure is tall, straight, and proud.

He hangs the bass over himself casually. Exchanging a glance with his bandmates, his fingertips flit across the strings lightly.

Along with the first sound from the drums, the performance officially begins.

Without unnecessary cushioning or embellishments, the music goes straight to the theme. The rapid and fierce melody propels the hearts of everyone to beat along with the rhythm and notes.

I’m standing below the stage, my eyes fixed on the people above it. 

Just like the first time I watched him perform, I almost forget to breathe in the midst of the shocking music.

Shaw’s fingers fly back and forth on the strings. He is so skilled in his techniques that even if you were to keep your eyes wide open, you wouldn’t be able to see how he moves his fingers clearly.

The lights and shadows intersperse like an illusion. He sways along with the rhythm, the light in his eyes even fiercer than the swift melody from his fingertips.

I grip the jacket on me. In the crowd - as what Shaw said - I have forgotten my own identity in this very moment.

Just like a normal rock lover, I can’t help but raise my hands in the air.

The climax gradually nears, and the entire crowd waits for the explosive point, their insuppressible shrieks surfacing one after the other.

At this point, the lights hanging on stage suddenly release a “PA” sound, and sparks appear in the air.

The audience in the front row cry out in alarm. The lights continuously flicker, and the buzzing sound of electricity can be heard.

Audience A: !! Did something happen?

Audience B: Seems like a problem with the lights. Could this be a stage malfunction...

People on and off the stage seem to notice this unforeseen event, and chaos erupts in the venue.

Suppressing the panic in my heart, I lift my head to look at Shaw.

In the middle of the flickering lights, I see a bewildered expression on his face too.

After a moment, he seems to think of something. He suddenly lifts his eyes and looks at the audience, his probing glance sweeping across them.

My heart jolts. Subconsciously, I give him a wave.

The surroundings are filled with the clamour of people. After sweeping past numerous profiles, Shaw’s eyes fall on me.

The moment our eyes meet, his frown smoothens out. Under the ever-changing lights and shadows, he reveals a flamboyant smile.

Shaw: Scared?

What’s there to be afraid of? Baffled, I shake my head.

Shaw holds back his smile for a moment, and he seems to be making a soft “tch” sound.

The crowd is still in chaos. Quite a number of them even squeeze towards the entrance, planning to leave the venue.

A staff wearing a name-tag is currently maintaining order in front. My eyes brighten, and I hurriedly squeeze myself over to him.

MC: Hello! The lights have been flickering, and I think it could be because the circuit over there has some issues. 

Staff: All right, thank you!

The clamour from the crowd seems to cover the music. I lift my eyes to look at Shaw, and discover that he’s currently staring at the flickering lights, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

Suddenly, he lifts his hand, and a bright light reflects from the pick between his fingers.

Shaw: Hey, catch up!

He steps on the pedal, matching the rhythm of the flickering lights. A few band members start to react.

The drummer raises his drumsticks in the air, tapping them together a few times. The band members exchange glances, cooperating with the rhythm to commence a spontaneous performance. 

When the audience notice that the performance is continuing, they start cheering enthusiastically. Without realising it, I also start to cheer. 

Shaw pulls out the wire connected to the bass. He walks to the side of the stage, his gaze sweeping across the crowd slowly.

He stretches out his index finger, pointing at the most raucous part of his audience, his eyes burning with fiery light.

The mood of the audience is instantly ignited, and they respond to him with gestures.

Shaw takes two steps back. Then, he turns around fiercely, jumping into the air.

At this moment, the hanging coloured balls open and countless ribbons drift downwards.

The glaring lights stop flickering, and they are all focused on Shaw.

Standing at the back, I see Shaw being lifted by the crowd. Along with the surge of the crowd, he draws closer to me.

The performance on the stage continues. The turbulent music excites every single cell in one’s body in an unparalleled manner.

The performance reaches its peak, and everyone excitedly waves their hands in the air. It’s as though the earlier incident was nothing more than for performance effect.

Shaw and I exchange glances. Even though we’re separated by the crowd, he looks at me with an unbridled smile.

My heartbeat speeds up in my chest along with the sound of the drums.

The thin coat of sweat on his collarbones, his intense gaze, and that hand reaching towards me--

All of them render me unable to avert my gaze.

-

In the break room, I shut the door, cutting myself off from the merriment outside.

With twenty minutes left for the performance, Shaw suddenly handed his bass to me, and asked me to wait for him in the break room.

I look around my surroundings, but don’t see Shaw.

MC: Why is he always like this - deciding things for himself...

I sigh softly, looking at the bass in my arms. My mind flashes back to images of him performing.

I can't help but raise my hand. Based on the melody in my recollection, I try plucking on the strings, humming the tune softly.

??: Hey, you’re out of tune.

I jolt. Turning around, I meet Shaw’s sly gaze.

MC: ...didn’t you manage to recognise what I was playing? It shows that I’m not lacking in talent.

Lowering my head, I continue strumming the strings in indignation. But my wrist is suddenly grabbed from behind.

Shaw: You can use one finger to pluck the strings. That way, the timbre will be more even.

Before realising it, Shaw is already standing behind me. I feel his breath on my ear, and it carries the same fresh peppermint scent as the jacket on me.

I pause, then follow his advice on how to play the bass, realising that there’s indeed an evident change in the timbre.

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it much better?

Before I can respond, footsteps are heard at the door.

In the next second, the door is pushed open. A band member enters, teasing him good-naturedly.

??: Shaw, are you able to rush your assignment before the deadline...

His voice suddenly halts. The moment he sees me, a few band members freeze.

When they notice the jacket on me, their expressions abruptly change, looking as though they’ve seen a ghost.

Adam: Isn’t that...

Jensen: All right, let’s not disturb their interaction and studies.

Jensen’s voice is genial. A few of them who tacitly understand his words start laughing.

Jensen: Shaw, catch!

A silver coloured object flies in an arc through the air, and a set of keys fall squarely in Shaw’s hand.

Jensen: We’re off. Remember to lock the doors.

In the blink of an eye, they’re all gone. 

MC: Is there something about this jacket?

Shaw rolls his eyes, walking over to the side to tidy up.

Shaw: Don’t bother about them. Let’s go.

-

There’s nobody in the main hall of Live House - a complete opposite of the lively atmosphere just now.

The loudspeakers and musical instruments on the stage have yet to be kept. A sole spotlight is turned on, and messy electrical cables are on the floor.

Thinking about the nice yet interrupted new song just now, a faint sense of regret surfaces in my heart.

MC: Shaw, could you play the bass again?

Shaw pauses in his footsteps. He turns his head to look at me, his expression baffled.

MC: That new song today - you only played it halfway before having to stop. I want to hear you play the full song.

Shaw: Right now? You really know how to order people around. Forget it, I'm in a good mood today. Wait here.

Shaw: Wait here.

He tosses his bag at me, then takes large strides to the front, hopping up onto the stage. 

He picks up the bass casually. Plugging the wire in, he lowers his eyes and sweeps a glance at me.

Shaw: This time, you’ve got to listen carefully.

With this, a melody gradually flows from his fingertips.

Although it’s the same song, it’s different from his performance earlier. He plays every beat unhurriedly, his posture casual and relaxed. 

I’m sitting on the floor, quietly listening to the low sounds of the bass, humming along with the music.

The timbre of the bass beneath his fingers is low and unruly. The occasional pauses and increases in speed are reminiscent of himself and how he does things as he pleases.

There’s a strange tugging of my emotions as memories of the past echo--

A very long time ago, underneath similar dim lights, I had watched Shaw’s performance for the first time.

I tug on the jacket over me, immersing myself in my thoughts, not noticing that Shaw has furrowed his brows above the stage, slightly upset.

Shaw places the bass to the side, then suddenly jumps off the stage.

MC: !

The thud of his feet making contact with the ground pulls me back to the present.

Amid the blurry lights and shadows, the image of him hopping off the stage and the image before me overlap.

In the quiet evening without a restless crowd, Shaw walks towards me, every step especially clear. 

He stops before me. I lift my head to look at him, but am caught off guard when he flicks my forehead. 

MC: Ah!

Shaw: You couldn’t keep your eyes off me when there were many people around. Why do you start losing focus when there are fewer people?

Shaw: Tch, you don’t know how to cherish this.

His face is within reach. My heart beats erratically in my chest once again, just like it did when he was surfing the crowd towards me.

MC: When was I unable to keep my eyes off you...

Shaw arches his brows, his expression reading: “Don’t even think of denying it”.

MC: I was just wondering why you thought of hopping off the stage earlier.

Shaw: What? 

MC: Just now, during the performance. If you had waited for the staff to fix the lights, you wouldn’t have needed to go through such trouble, right?

MC: Also, do you like getting off the stage like that? Isn’t it good to use the stairs?

Shaw: But it’s cooler like this.

Shaw’s tone is confident, and the corners of my lips tug upwards involuntarily.

Shaw: Also, this time is different from before.

MC: How so?

Shaw: It isn’t an accident this time.

He takes the bag in my hands, then walks towards the entrance. 

Shaw: Why are you still standing there? Let’s go.

-

The streets in the wee hours of the morning are tranquil and empty. The streetlights outside Live House cast small, round halos.

Shaw doesn’t speak. A lively melody drifts from his earpieces, and he’s humming a certain song from his band softly.

Shaw: Hey, your car’s here.

I nod, my eyes falling on the skateboard beneath his arm.

MC: You don’t plan to ride the skateboard home today?

Shaw: The board needs waxing. Oh yes, remember to share your location with me when you’re in the car.

We bid each other goodbye with a wave, and I enter the car. With the clinking sound of metal buttons, I realise that I’m still wearing that black coloured jacket.

I roll down the window, and exclaim at him.

MC: Shaw, thanks for your jacket!

Shaw appears to pause in his steps. After a while, he lifts his hand and waves it in the air casually. He doesn’t turn around, carrying the bass.

Shaw: Remember to wash it before returning it to me next time. 

Moonlight falls on the ends of his hair, coating it with a tender halo. Shaw steps into the tranquil night, and it seems like his footsteps have become slightly lighter.

-

🎸 MOMENTS 🎸

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance. 

MC: You’ve already said it once!

Shaw: Saying it twice isn’t enough to express my surprise.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: And with high-heels. My feet were close to giving up when I reached home...

Shaw: You should have mentioned it earlier. I have a pair of shoes in the break room.

-

Shaw’s Post: The first time seeing someone wearing business attire to watch a performance

MC: Are you touched? To watch your performance, I didn’t even have the time to change my clothes.

Shaw: A little. Hope you can continue in your efforts the next time.

-

Phone call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc shaw #there's a reason why shaw once overthrew gavin's top spot in my heart hnghgnhg #charismatic little brat

[bluereadingdolphin]

Here’s the art I did for @iffeelscouldkill’s TSCOSI fic say what we wanna do, make it all come true, done for the @podcastbigbang 2021!! It’s a band au, check it out on ao3!!

[begin ID: a digital, colored drawing depicting five band members, playing onstage with three beams of stage lights shining down on them. From left to right, they are: Brian, Sana, Violet, Arkady, and Khrejj. Brian is a light-skinned man with short, curly brown hair, wearing glasses, a green, long-sleeved shirt, blue jeans, and green shoes that match his shirt. He's playing a dark blue keytar (an keyboard instrument you can hold like a guitar). Sana is a brown-skinned woman with long brown hair that's been braided over her shoulder. She's wearing a yellow blouse, brown pants, and brown shoes. She's playing a dark blue electric guitar. Violet is a chinese woman with shoulder-length brown hair, wearing a purple-pink blouse, grey pants, and purple shoes. She's sitting behind a drum set, playing the drums. Arkady is light-skinned woman with an undercut, the middle dyed red-orange and stuck up in a mohawk style. She's wearing a dark red shirt underneath a black leather jacket, ripped grey jeans, and dark red boots. She's playing a grey-silver bass guitar. Krejjh is a black person with close-cropped dark brown hair. They're wearing pink shutter sunglasses, pushed up to their forehead, a dark purple button-down underneath a pink blazer with a pale yellow tie, magenta pants, and green shoes. They're playing an electric, standing keyboard. end ID]

#tscosi #the strange case of starship iris #violet liu #arkady patel #sana tripathi #brian jeeter #krejjh #band au