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ghostarii · 10 months

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GLASS TABLE GIRL ! ～ BLADE . ❛ i just wanna be one of your girls tonight.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  SHOW NOTES fem!reader ❱ guitarist!blade ❱ groping ❱ reader is a groupie ❱ PWP!!! ❱ (reader is intoxicated so technically) dubcon ❱ spanking ❱ degradation ❱ clit n nipple slapping ❱ ig ooc!blade but who cares ❱ choking/asphyxiation ❱ size kink ❱ dacryphilia ❱ outdoor/public sex ❱ exhibitionism ❱ spit ❱ face-fucking ❱ dirty talk ❱ reader has 0 self respect ❱ name calling ❱ overstimulation ❱ creampie & unprotected sex (stay safe) ❱ clit pinching ❱ hair pulling ❱ multiple orgasms ❱ cumplay(?) ❱ no aftercare ❱ minors & dc antis do not interact.

˖ ⁺ ⫾  CREDITS i have not written a fic in so effing long nd i was high writing this so excuse my rustiness :c but i have risen from my grave so let’s rejoice nonetheless ! !blade is on my mind 24/7 n i just want to be used n abused by him omfg turn me OWT! i listened to one of the girls by the weeknd literally the entire time i wrote this sooo feel free to listen while reading ^_^ i was js writing as i went so ts is very pwp sorryyy . . i’m gonna try to be more active on here i js need time to write so in the meantime pls show that my works would be appreciated here =( likes & reblogs are so GREATLY APPRECIATED ! ! ! if u don’t like, pls scroll cs comm guidelines r so mean to creators T_T

˖ ⁺ ⫾  RUN TIME 7.5k+ words . (of pure filth)

IF SOMEBODY ASKED you who your favorite artist was, you would say Ren—known by his moniker: BLADE. There was nothing you didn't like about this man; everything about him fundamentally and ultimately was the object of a girlish obsession. You knew all of his songs front to back, followed his social media on every single platform, and never missed a single piece of media uploaded about him. Your life was built around his style: dark and mysterious and enigmatic. He was your number one, unmatched and unchanged.

He was a hard man to come by. He frequently held small shows, with no more than twenty-thousand people on the high end. It was impossible to go, and every time you tried, your chance miserably passed you up. But this time, June twenty-third, twenty-twenty-three, you were right there, in the middle of the pit, only mere feet away from Blade. It was your first time seeing him in person by the grace of your best friend who surprisingly snagged tickets, and you’d never been more grateful in your life.

Blade was ethereal. The concert videos you’d seen over the years did not compare to the image in front of your face. It was dark, the main lights being spotlights shone on his pearly, perspiring, black, skin-tight silk-clothed skin, and dim red LED lights on the set behind him. His fingers ran effortlessly across his guitar, an inexplicably attractive riff and tone singing from the instrument. You felt like you were in Heaven, your eyes never leaving the show before your eyes. It was hot and uncomfortable in the pit but it was worth it. So worth it because he looked at you: taking you in with an unfaltering stare. His lip slipped between his teeth, and he shook his head, throwing stray locks to the back, and God, you felt as though you needed to be bolted to the ground with the way you wanted to jump on the stage. He walks up to the microphone, the most gut-wrenchingly hot vocals sliding off of his tongue. His eyes were closed, smudged eyeliner emphasizing his fluttering, long lashes, and his lips were spit-slicked, parting and pursing with each sultry lyric leaving. They were plump and rosy as if they were asking to be kissed—it was a sight to behold.

You sang your heart out, dragging your hand from waving in the air down a curvy path on your body, going from your shoulder to your chest to below where Blade’s sight would reach. You turned to your friend and recited the lyrics with a big smile and following giggle, all to turn your attention back to the stage and lock eyes with him. Your thighs clamped together just at the narrowed and burning gaze he delivered. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted a man more than you do right now.

Your friend found a way closer to the stage and you wedged your way between the crowd, finding yourself so close that the speakers were banging on your eardrums. You could feel the music in your bones, and all you could think of to describe it was hot and heavy. Maybe it was all of the pregaming you and your friend did before the concert, or the condensed heat and gyrating bodies, but you were so hot. You wipe your sweaty skin as you sway to the beginning of the next song, taking out your phone to begin recording.

Blade leans into the mic, muttering lowly, “I want you all to sing.” He pulls the microphone out of the stand, letting his guitar hang off of his shoulder from the strap. And that’s when he makes his way to where you stand, muttering small “yeah”’s and “good job”’s into the mic as the crowd collectively sings. He kneels right before you, “Sing.” he says into the mic.

You go wide-eyed—cute, he thinks—but you start singing. You grab an open portion of the microphone, leaning in as close as possible and reciting the lyrics of the song just as you were told. All eyes and cameras were on you, and that included Blade, who held an intense gaze on you the entire verse. When you finish the crowd erupts in cheers and screams, and he pulls away, finishing the song. You turned to your friend and screamed about your main character moment, dancing and singing even happier into her recording phone. This was the best night of your life.

For the rest of the concert, you had the time of your life. Blade ends the show with a final guitar solo, the entire audience silent as he wrecks the strings and pours his heart into his vocals. He briefly spoke to his fans, thanking everyone for coming out and heading backstage as everyone began to clear out. And all he could think about was that girl who his eyes couldn't help but wander toward, and to whom his thoughts dedicated his innuendos. He remembers the sign you held at the beginning of the show: “BLADE ♡WNS M(Y)E (HEART) ♡”. Your eyes honed filth that your natural disposition didn’t and he longed for it. He held bated breath as he informed his security about you, requesting you be located and brought to him and they replied with “We’ll try our best, sir.”

It was an after-concert tradition for Blade to hit up a local club, especially in situations like this where it was his last stop. He hoped he’d find you there, but he knew you would, especially if you were as big of a fan as you looked.

“Yukong, just thirty minutes! Please!!” you pleaded, trying to pull your friend into your opinion. She shook her head no, “I can’t! I have to go home! I’m so tired and you know…” you stop your friend there, not wanting to hear about her boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m still going though, text me when you get home.” you didn’t want Yukong to go home. But arguing was pointless, and only time was being put to the test, not her stubbornness. You knew from your years as a Blade fan that he always went to the club after a concert to meet fans, and some rumors even suggested ulterior motives, so you wanted to go. Yukong frowned at your flat expression but still hugged you, waving at you as she got in her car to go home. You’d be flying solo, but you had faith in yourself.

So you make your way over to the nearest club via taxi, praying that this is the one that Blade would visit. You weren’t all too familiar with the place, its name, Starskiff Haven, only being one you’ve heard in passing. Regardless, your thoughts were assured by the abundance of fighting and pushing bodies to get in the door—and when your phone lit up, a Twitter notification from a Blade Updates page noting his location, Starskiff Haven, you smiled widely, making your way to the line.

It was way too long and you weren’t interested in waiting all night—you had to meet Blade. A time like this is when Yukong comes into hand with her very stern persuasion, something that’s near impossible to deny. But she left, and you’d have to figure out a way in. And a thought immediately came to mind.

You walked to the front of the line, breathing in deeply and psyching yourself up for how incredibly you were about to embarrass yourself. When you exhale, you book it, beelining straight into the club, right past security. You immediately shift your demeanor, blending into the crowd seamlessly as security guards rush in, looking around for you. Hiding behind the most cluelessly drunk girl, you make your way to the bar, immediately ordering a sidecar. It packed a punch and the combination of how many shots you had earlier, it’d be just enough to get you through whatever you were about to do.

You turn around in the swivel stool, taking in the atmosphere and coasting the area for any sighting of Blade. The club was darker than the concert but heavily illuminated with hazy, colorful LEDS and much, much louder, filled to the brim with chatter and deafening bass-boosted music. Your drink was brought to you moments later, and with a big sip, you raked your eyes over the club once again. You could see bodies grinding on the main floor, the DJ bopping his head as his hands moved diligently across his DJ controller, couples making out and slipping into cornered areas, and friend groups recording and taking pictures. It was a lively environment, sure, and from the strength that beat on your tongue, established by incredibly skilled bartenders—but you weren’t looking for a new clubbing spot, you were looking for Blade.

And Blade was looking for you. Swimming through the unforgivingly hot crowd for you. He wasn’t itching to have you, he was itching to take you. Every time he closed his eyes he was brought back to his time on stage and how you danced in the audience. How your lips pushed out his lyrics and how your hands couldn’t stop waving in the air and running on your skin. How you swiped off sweat from your forehead and fanned yourself with your sign. And how you couldn’t keep your star-filled eyes off of him. Every light reflection off of your eyes showed desperation and neediness. You were begging to be picked without ever uttering a word, and he was not one to ignore indulgence. You needed him and he wanted you—so where are you?

Perched on that blue-velvet cushioned swivel stool. Sipping whatever remaining contents of your sidecar. And when he saw you, you saw him. You locked eyes and each plastered ill-intended smirks across your faces. And while you had his attention, you brought the glass to your lips, smacking them open and running your tongue along the sugar rim, collecting the sweetness on your tongue. You sucked on your tongue, rolling your eyes and he swears the “Ahh” leaving your lips is audible from his distance. He stayed still even as you slapped down your money on the counter, hopping down and disappearing into the crowd.

You make your way to him quickly, holding onto your rapidly rising chest and laughing at yourself. You were on a roll of unbelievable behavior, but it seemed to be a clean stroke because you were yet to meet a roadblock. And in a very blurry couple of minutes, the goal you’d been working toward was in the palm of your hand—literally.

You danced your way to Blade when you were finally close to him, sliding up against his body sweetly. He was tall and so sturdy against you, but he was smooth like butter as he synced to your movements and danced behind you. His hands were on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he pushed up against you. Your exchange was wordless but it spoke volumes. It felt like a dream, entirely too good to be true but you indulged anyway, grinding against him. A gasp escapes your mouth as his left hand unabashedly grapes your tit, squeezing roughly and experimentally. His other hand trails dangerously on the band of your shorts and you let your head fall back on his shoulder, “I'm your biggest fan…”

He laughs at your declaration, leaning to press his lips feather-lightly at the shell of your ear, “Are you now?” you nod immediately, pressing into him. “‘Blade owns me’.” he mocks your sign, and laughs when he feels you slightly tense under his touch.

“I picked you,” and again, he leans down to your ear, “Are you happy, slut?” The word is so mean but it sounds so good from him. You nearly moan, nodding eagerly, as if complying with his word came with a medal. You were a slut, so willing to give it up as soon as he laid eyes on you. And you weren’t afraid to go low to get his attention, doing just about anything to be his for the night.

Fangirls like you are nothing new to Blade and as a man who looks like he does, it comes with the territory. He can read you like a damn book, cover to cover with ease because despite how enigmatic and indifferent to the norm you may try to appear, you wear your whole being on your sleeve. You do everything in your power to be somebody you're not. Your life revolves around who you think you should be and not who you are. A lot of girls are born with “it”: an innate ability to be the one wanted and desired, but you? Your “it” is manufactured, the blueprint drawn out by girls who are it. You're stuck in a limbo created by your age: too old to not be settling down, but too young to not live your life, and you try to make a box for yourself, being the exception to a path laid out for you. You're lost in the life you lead, and with the way you're dancing so shamelessly and needily on him, Blade knows you. You’re the type of girl who sees getting used as a flex, and despite signing an NDA or promising to never say anything, you’ll tell this person and that person that you got to sleep with the Blade; that the Blade picked you. Women like you are a cancer in the industry. Pests that are incessant and damn near impossible to get rid of. He knows you won't be any different than those before you, but there’s a desire to take you that he cannot ignore.

It’s his natural instinct as a man—or he’s just a shitty person. Perhaps a combination of both, because all he can think about is putting you to use. You’re making it so easy, moaning into the air under the thick remixed song the DJ is spinning, grinding against him, and holding his hand on your tit—you want him, and you’re giving yourself to him on a silver platter. You have a clear lack of respect for yourself, but luckily for you, that’s Blade’s type in women.

The atmosphere seems to be getting heavier, and it feels like time is getting slow and choppy. Now your arms are around Blade’s neck and his large hands are holding onto your ass, and you’re so close, you can feel your chests brushing with each breath you take. The world around you is nothing but background. It doesn’t exist to you, it doesn't matter to you. Not when you have Blade, the literal man of your dreams, right in your palm, and all he's looking at is you.

You feel so special. So wanted and so desired. You feel all eyes on you like you're the main attraction and everybody can’t help but watch and weep, wishing to be you. Your ego is skyrocketed and every embarrassing thing you’ve done tonight doesn't matter to you anymore because it paid off. Your eyes locked and the space between you closed. Your heart synced with the booming beat of the current song playing. You lean in, pressing your hands at the back of his neck and pulling him in. And you kiss him. You kiss Blade.

Blade kisses you back. He tightens the grip on your ass and you moan into his mouth, letting him infiltrate your mouth. He sucks on your tongue, smiling against you when he feels you push up on your tippy toes and hears you whimper into his mouth. He kisses you back. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pecking your lips once more before moving to your cheek, then to your jaw, then to your neck. His hands are groping at you, roughly grabbing your ass, then your waist, then your breasts. “Are you wet?”

He says it so only you can hear it. You nod. “How wet?” He moves back up to your jaw, placing another kiss. You flutter your lashes, meeting his gaze, “So wet. All for you.”

At your response, he groans, pulling off of you. He chuckles when you pout at him. You’re just what he needs for this night. He grabs your chin, holding your face and leaning down, your lips brushing against his own. “I'm going to go smoke.” and he tells you this for a reason.

You watch with the biggest smile on your face as he sifts through the crowd, heading out of a side door. It was now or never.

Quickly, you rush to the bathroom to freshen up. You fix your hair, digging into your pocket and fishing out your lipgloss, reapplying, and you fan yourself, cooling down to not look a flustered mess. And just as quick as you ran in, you ran out toward the side door, immediately looking both ways for Blade. You smell smoke distantly and turn right, and a few paces down he stood, leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring restaurant. He's next to stacks of old wood and crates and you smile, thinking about whatever was about to go down between you.

You step in front of him and he smiles, taking you in once again. He blows his smoke in your face, tapping the ash off the cigarette before smashing the butt into the wall behind him. “Hi,” you say. He says nothing back, just slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you in. The kiss you share this time is messy and he now asserts control, nipping your bottom lip when he feels you go weak and pulls back.

He rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand for him. This is the first time all night he’s seen you properly, in moderately okay lighting. Your jean mini-skirt is tight to you, accentuating the curve and fullness of your ass, and teases what’s beneath with your plump thighs poking out and how it rides up slightly. Your skin-tight baby tank is seemingly one with your figure, bringing out the best in you and making him smile with the “I ♡ BLADE” print across your chest. Your thigh-high boots did nothing when you were near him—he was looming and caging. He was intimidating and arousing, and with the lustful gaze you shared, the climax of your day was steadily approaching.

“Take it off.” He looks down at your chest and you get the memo; immediately grabbing the hem of your tank top and pulling it over your head. “Slow. Take your time…” And you listen, letting your body swivel as you remove the shirt. You unhook the clasp of your bra, and before your boobs could spill out of the confines, he grabs you and wedged you between him and the wall he previously leaned on.

The front of your body is slapped on the cold brick, but you’re swallowed in warmth as he presses against you, grinding his hard-on against your ass. One hand grabs your wrists, and the other turns you around. You look at him innocently, shivering at the breeze that blows down the alley. You can smell him: woody, smokey, and expensive. Yet here he was, pressing you up against a brick wall in a random alley. “You’re such an easy slut, y’know.”

“Bet you been thinking about this; daydreaming about your favorite artist pinning you and trashing you like the fucking whore you are.” he presses against your front, nipping at your jaw. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

You whimper, “Fuck me. Take me. Make me yours.”

“Tell me.” He growls - your answer not sufficing. “Want you to break me,”

“Always fantasized…wanting you to shove your dick down my throat and use it mindlessly and mercilessly.” He begins to kiss down your throat again, licking the tender skin. He smirks when you stop talking, your breath hitching and your head craning backward to open the expanse of your neck. He starts biting on your newfound sweet spot when you begin again, “Spit in my mouth and force me to swallow it with your cum,”

He gets to your chest, immediately taking a nipple between his teeth. He listens to you wince and whine as he does, pushing your chest into his face. “And make me beg you to fuck me. Teasing me…fuck—pinching me, pulling my hair until I'm teary-eyed and begging…”

“...And then you fuck me like you hate me; choking me, slapping me, degrading me all while I thank you stupidly.”

“You’re just fucking disgusting,” he mumbles around your nipple. He lets your hands go, palming your free tit immediately. His eyes are narrow as you whine when he twinges the bud roughly. “Put so much thought into this…you’re a weirdo slut.”

You shake your head, breathing out heavily to refute his claim, “Nuh-uh—your biggest fan.” you correct.

He laughs at you. You’re much more fun than he thought, and a lot less shameless, too. You're throwing all of your big cards out; this is your go-big or go-home moment, and while you have him here, you’ll bare yourself wholly because if not now, then not ever. Blade has to commend your patience though. You're letting him toy around, graze around your unknown territory and feel you out. You’re needy but obedient. Tired of waiting but understanding. Absolutely fucking shameful and proud, but eager to be good—so maybe he was wrong about you. You do have an “it”: an innate ability to be the perfect fucktoy.

When he lets you go, he immediately instructs you to get on your knees. And you listen immediately. The cold gravel digs into your bare knees and it's incredibly uncomfortable, yet you don’t utter a word. Your nipples are hard and pebbled and are probably so sensitive, yet you say nothing. You only sit before him, fingers dancing on the exposed thigh as you look up at him, waiting to be put to use.

So he slaps you. As you told him to—he slaps you, and his hand is heavy coming against your skin. It sounds off for what felt like possibly hundreds of miles, and your face doesn’t sting, but it hurts. The skin is heating up from the impact and your head turns to the side, hair falling against your face, yet you don’t utter a word. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look at him and dangerously smiling when your teary eyes look up at him wide and thankfully. “Pull my cock out,” he instructs, letting you go and standing up straight.

You get to work on his belt, undoing it swiftly, and then you unbutton his pants. You tease yourself: slowly pulling the zipper down, and when pulling his pants down to his ankles, you palm him softly, gently patting his throbbing cock and staring at the growing wet spot in his underwear. You kiss the wet spot, and then you kiss it again, and again until you suck lightly on it while making eye contact with him. You moan at the very faint taste, fluttering your eyes shut, and finally sliding your hand under the band of his underwear, holding his dick.

Blade hisses at your touch, bucking slightly into your hold at the initial contact. Usually, he’d curse you out at this point for going so slow, but he’s letting it slide this time; allowing you to take control and show him how worth it and nasty you really are.

He’s big. He’s thick—your hand can just barely wrap around the entire shaft, and as you lift him to unsheath him from his boxers, you feel how heavy he is. And hard. So fucking hard.

You gawk at his cock like a kid in a candy store, staring at his leaking slit intensely—almost as if you're waiting. “Go ahead; show me how big of a fan you are.”

You kiss his tip, the bead of precum smearing on your lips. Smacking your lips apart suggestively, you wrap your right hand around the base, applying tightness and pressure as you find the right grip, and when you do, you finally lick a clean stripe across the head. Your tongue sweeps up the new milky droplet spilling out, and you contently hum at the taste, making him groan in response. You lick from the angry tip all the way to his trimmed base, then back up again until you’ve teased every side of him and located his sensitive vein.

If anybody would have told you that all you dreamed about would be coming to fruition—all by mere luck and chance—you wouldn’t believe it. And you still don't; even as you spit a thick bead of your saliva on his cock and then massage it in with your tongue, swirling all around the sensitive head. But it’s real because he moans out for you as you finally take him in, the throb getting heavier as he sits on your tongue and your lips hug him tight.

You begin your ministrations: toying with his balls lightly as you bob up and down, going as far as you could. You tried your best to take him all in. You stretched your mouth wide around him until it felt like your mouth was going to rip at the corners and until it felt like all you could do was sputter and leak drool around him. Tears brimmed in your eyes and each time you blinked them back, keeping a pretty smile on your face every time you came up for air. Your lipgloss was mixed in with spit, and clear tear streaks had already begun to run their course with your base makeup, but you didn't stop. You were moaning incessantly, suffocating his dick in your intense vibrations that had him moaning and grunting.

When you come up from your nth deepthroat attempt, it's not for air, but to breathlessly huff out “Fuck my face…please,” And since you asked so nicely…

“Blink twice if it gets to be too much.” You open your mouth as wide as you could, sticking your tongue out. He pulls your hair back for you, yanking your head back and spitting on your tongue. His eyes tell you not to move, so you don’t, keeping eye contact with him as he wraps his other hand around your own, guiding your smaller hands up and down his shaft. He shudders, “F-fuck…’m so fuckin’ hard…”

And then he slides onto your tongue, not wasting any time before bottoming out in your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise, and your unprepared gags speak volumes to your shock. But that doesn't deter you from wrapping your lips around him. And from there, he pulls out, pulling your head back and then pushing you back down as he thrusts his hips forward. He curses under his breath before picking up his pace, thrusting so hard that his grip tightens on your hair to hold you properly in place, fucking roughly into your face. You can only choke and sputter, having already taken your hands from around his dick and digging crescent nail shapes into his thighs. The sounds eliciting from the two of you are so nasty and filthy. His balls slap at your chin, your voice rings out from around his girth, and his moans echo around the world. You can’t take it but you’re doing a great job of trying. He slaps your face again, pulling out and hitting his tip on your tongue. “Keep your fucking eyes on me,”

“If you can do that, I'll cum all down your throat and all over your pretty fucking face, okay?” You nod eagerly, and as an incredibly degrading action of praise and acceptance, he slaps his spit-slicked dick against your cheek a few times. “Good girl.” Butterflies swarm in your stomach at his praise.

When Blade slides in, he smacks against your face. He goes to the very hilt, pushing his way to the depths of your throat roughly. Your nose is pressed up against his pelvis, and your cheeks are catching stray tears. But this is consistent as he begins thrusting, using you per your request. He grunts out each time his tip hits the back of your throat, thrusting so roughly and meanly into you. Again, you feel like all you can do is choke and gag, spilling slobber and precum mix back down his length. It’s fucking filthy and the loud squelching and impact noises hit your ears nastily, yet you can’t help but squirm and attempt to grind for friction to subdue the need throbbing in your clit.

Above you, the man is falling apart. His hips stutter every now and then and his voice is fucking endless. His long hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and sides of his neck, and it looks damn near intentionally placed from how beautiful he looks. The outdoor lights are like distant illuminators; glowing behind him softly—almost angelically. His eyebrows are knitted together and he struggles to keep his eyes every time he reaches the back of your throat and you start gagging. It’s beyond pleasurable. Blade isn't sure if it’s because of all the tension the two of you have built up, or if it's because he hasn't had any action in the last 3 weeks because of his neverending schedule, or if it’s because your mouth is fucking amazing, but he can't keep himself together. His chest starts heaving faster as he comes close to his high, his knees beginning to buckle, and his stomach caving.

You flick your tongue on the underside of his cock as much as you can and glue your eyes to his, seeing his release breaking him down inch by inch. “Fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!” He announces, throwing his head back.

He stills in your mouth and you take the opportunity to suck harshly on his tip, swirling your tongue around it like it’s the sweetest lolly you’ve ever tasted. He pulls out of your mouth, and you vigorously stroke his cock, so focused and determined to milk him dry. He leans forward, slapping his palm against the wall behind you for stability as he cums. He moans so prettily as he paints your face, the warm ropes making you hum contently. You give him no break, sucking his tip one last time to make sure you get the most out of what he’s given you.

Blade catches his breath, standing up straight soon after and condescendingly cooing at the mess made on your face. He picks up a glob as he sweeps his thumb over your cheek, sliding the digit in your mouth. He presses on your tongue, finding pleasure in how you swallow your sounds under a layer of gagging, but how you never tear your eyes off of him. He does this until you’ve cleaned off your face—but he's not done with you.

You're finally allowed off of your aching knees. You're sure the gravel will leave an indent from how long you were down there. He pinches your pebbled nipples, smirking as you yelp. “What was it that was next? Making you beg..making you earn my cock in you?” you nod rapidly, backing into the wall for stability as he toys with your very sensitive tits. “Show me how you beg then.”

You put your hands on his shoulders to help you stand up, feeling so weak all of a sudden. Your voice cracks as you try to speak, meek little whimpers flowing out as he works your body expertly—like he knows what gets you going. “Please…fuck–Please fuck me, I need you so bad…!”

A shrill yelp is chased out of your throat when his palm cracks against one of your boobs, “Is that all you got? Try again.”

So you do. “Need you to fuck me, Blade. I wanna be used by you, broken–please, I'll do anything!”

“Not good enough. Again.”

“Please fuck me like the slut I am! I need to be full of you, need to have you fuck me ragged and dumb so all I think of is you!” you pitch up your voice, breathing it all out in one breath.

Pitiful. Another smack. “Again.”

“I'm so needy for you, please! It hurts–I need you so much, it hurts! Please…”

And he's heard enough. His right hand slides up to your neck, forcing you against the wall. His grip is tight, fingers pressing into the sides and you have to fight for your eyes to not roll to the back of your head. “You must not want me as bad as you acted like you did…”

“I do! I do!” You interject, but your voice is weak and small—nothing in comparison to his deep and lust-saturated tone. “Then act like you do. Beg.”

He runs his other hand up your thigh, cupping your cunt. Your panties are soaked, and he can feel the heat radiating off of you. He pushes the fabric to the side, running two fingers through your folds and you swear you almost fell out then and there. You'd gone teased and untouched all night—you were beyond ready.

“Pussy is fucking soaked…” he mumbles, letting his index and middle finger twirl through your folds, getting closer and closer to your clit. “You want me here? To fuck your sloppy pussy until you're cumming your brains out?”

Your eyes start to roll and he can feel the pulse intensify in your cunt. That's exactly what you wanted. “Say it. Say ‘I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade’. Say it,”

You part your lips, and he slightly loosens the grip on your throat, “Wan–want…I want my sloppy pussy…” You get shy with your words, and he delivers a slap to your clit. The stimulation has you buckling over. You feel like his hands on you are going to be the death of you. “Say it.”

With the courage finally built up, “I want my sloppy pussy fucked until I'm cumming my brains out, Blade! Please, I need it s’bad…feel like I'm gonna fucking die!” leaves your lips easily like spreading butter on toast. His lips that you never got enough of tasting quirk up into his signature smirk. He lets you go, pushing you against the wooden crates and flipping up your jean skirt.

“There you go; atta-fucking-girl.” he practically rips your panties off of you, slapping your pussy just for the hell of it. He cringes at the sound it makes and laughs cruelly at your whimpering. He presses up against you, his semi-hard dick pressed against your ass, and he wraps his arm around you and shows you the coat of your arousal that paints his fingers. “Spit.”

With your spit and abundance of slick collected on his fingers, Blade strokes his cock, going until he’s near painfully hard. The sounds he elicits make your pussy clench around nothing, needing to be satiated so desperately. “Are you ready? There’s no going back.”

This is somehow the sweetest moment for you. Your heart swells and you can only sheepishly nod, wiggling your hips eagerly. “Never been more sure about anything in my life. Ruin me.”

Ask once more, and you shall receive once more. His cock is swiped through your folds and collects a considerable amount of your arousal. He lines up at your entrance, watching you brace yourself with a smile ingrained into his face. He pushes in with a sharp inhale, biting his tongue at the feel of your tightness. Your pussy sucks him right in and—fuck. Warm and soft and tight, he could cum right now.

Your face crinkles up and you grip tightly onto the wooden crates in front of you. You’ve dreamt of this for so long—touched yourself at night to the thought and it's finally happening. He's inside of you, stretching you out, sinking in and in and in, inch by inch until he buries himself deep in your guts, until his tight and heavy balls are touching your folds. You're so sensitive you feel like you're ready to cream already, and you need it, need him, and need more. You grind your hips back on him, exhaling thickly as you rest your head against your forearm. “So fucking ready for me…”

His hand cracks down on your ass. It hurts so well and you wince, arching your back further. He sighs, kneading your skin softly. Then he pulls out, inching out until only the tip sits idly in you. You turn around to look at him, and doing that ignites his fire.

Your face is pathetic and fucked out already. Eyebrows knitted together and your eyes heavy, hardly staying open. Your lips are parted yet folded into a small frown, and perspiration rests at your hairline. You egg him on to slam into you, and he watches your frown drop into a wide ‘o’ shape, your eyes fluttering. So he does it again. And your lip now slips between your teeth. And again. And you drop your head back onto your arms.

And so Blade keeps up this pace, gradually going faster as the pit in his stomach urges him to do so. Your sounds are now uncontrollable—they fly out of you like a skipping record, incoherent babbles, and sinful moans. Each collision of your bodies elicits a visceral, wet slap that echoes off the walls of the alleyway. People around the world could probably hear what you're doing, and you're not sure if that bothers you…if the thought of a curious passerby walking down this alley naïvely would be an issue. If anything, it makes you get louder, your throat not getting to rest.

He hits you again, groaning when your pussy clenches around him. “You’re so fucking loud– you want somebody to find us?” Yes, that is what you want to say. But you moan out louder, shaking your head no. He hits you again. “Don’t lie to me,”

“You’re a fucking painslut,” he spits at you. He wraps his arm to reach your clit, immediately finding the bud and pinching it. Your knees go weak and he stabilizes you against him by pushing you further into the crates in front of you. You sniffle and whimper, presumably spilling tears down your filthy fucking face but doing nothing but asking for more. You've gotten so wet, dripping everywhere messily and Blade only cringes his face up with each wet collision. You're so nasty, so filthy, letting a stranger who you parasocial bonded yourself to defile you in public. He's feeding into your crazed delusions, but he’d honestly rather be doing nothing else. When he pinches your clit again your body shakes. Your knees buckle again and from the waist up you're basically limp. He feels you tighten around him and he sucks his teeth, parting your ass to peer at the milky ring forming around the base of his cock. “Did you just fucking cum?” Yes, you did. And you felt like Heaven doing it.

“You came ‘cause I pinched your clit…” he does it again and you jolt up, whining for him to stop. “So if I slap it…” he slaps it, eyeing you for your reaction. “Or rub on it like I love you…” his fingers run circles on your bud, feeling you get impossibly tighter around him. “So fucking easy.”

He resumes his thrusts like he never stopped—slamming into you unapologetically and now additionally, rubbing on your cute, abused clit. He's not going to last long at this rate. Your pussy gushes around him like a running river and the noises have gotten even nastier. Squelching and the occasional puffs of air escaping…you’re a mess.

“Love this fucking cunt,” he praises while pinching your clit. His free hand that rested on the small of your back is now holding onto your neck, forcing you to stand upright against him. Blade is lean but muscular. His arms flex and you feel his abs every time your bodies get close enough. His strong thighs touch yours and it's like you feel his entire body weight every time he pushes into you. “So good, ‘s so fucking good, Blade!”

The man laughs at your outburst. He angles his hips differently, trying so hard to find your sweet spot to get you creaming again. “Yeah?” he asks, tightening his grip on your throat. “Mhm-!” you concur.

“Where?” He’s sure he's found it, and he drives his hips up, groaning happily once he feels your gummy walls contract around him. “Here?”

Your head nods rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes–fuck! Right there, oh my fucking God!”

Neither of you are going to last. Blade’s balls are so tight and the way your pussy hugs him is even tighter. You suck him in like you never want him to leave, but your over-stimulated squeals and shaking thighs suggest otherwise. He’s found your sweet spot and is recklessly abusing it, going all or nothing. The way he toyed with your clit like a kitten pawing at a toy was too much—it started to hurt, to throb endlessly as your stomach knotted and your hole drooled. His grip on your neck was the icing on the cake. You felt like you could no longer breathe — like his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you and him choking you was keeping it out. Every little thing he did pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

He was even more merciless than before. Blade fucked into you harder, rougher, and faster than before, and you chalked that up to his orgasm catching up to him. You listen to his songs on repeat all the time but never have you heard him sing more beautifully than now as he digs your pussy out. You were really blessed with this night, and now it is coming to a very eventful end.

“‘M gonna fucking cum–!” You announce, and Blade nods his head in agreement. He slaps your cunt one last time, his fingers covered in your juices now tweaking at one of your nipples. “Me…me too, fuck.”

He leans into your ear, “Make me cum in this fucking pussy,” a throaty moan breaks his sentence, and you moan back, feeling it coming. “So close, so close…!”

It's this contraction that has Blade falling apart. He thrusts into you one last time, his eyes shooting wide open as he cums deep in you. He moans gutturally and shakily, feeling you clench tighter as you orgasm as well. His hips stutter in you and your hips ride back onto him as you both come down from your highs. The alley is now deafeningly silent and you flush in embarrassment from how loud you must have been. He lets your neck and tit go, using one hand to now spread your ass and pull out his cock. Your pussy is puffy and shiny, and when he’s out, he watches with a burning gaze as your mixture of cum starts to slightly spill out.

He groans, slapping your ass one last time. You two finally separate, and you turn around to look at him. You're sure he doesn't look as fucked up as you do, but even so disheveled and fucked out and sweaty as he is, you can’t help but feel your heart flutter. He pulls up his boxers and pants, fixing his shirt before he looks over at your mostly naked frame. He comes over to you, pulling down your skirt, and his doing this makes you feel less like a one-night stand, and more like one of his girls.

Being so close to you, he breathes you in. You smell like sex, but beneath that is a layer of whatever fruity perfume you sprayed on you, and it's delectable; so he kisses you. It's something he doesn't usually do, and he wouldn't have done it for you, but you entrance him. Perhaps it's because you're what he likes— he's met his match.

But you kiss each other passionately like you were trying to reignite the flame you just spent God knows how long fucking out. Your tongues are well acquainted with one another, swirling and bumping and riding past one another knowingly. He pulls away from you, looking in your eyes as he lets spit fall onto your tongue once again. You smile happily as you swallow it—God, you could do this forever. “Come back with me,”

You didn't expect him to say that. You blink your eyes a few times in disbelief. This night can't be any more unreal. He notices your confusion and smiles, “Is that a no–”

“–No! I'll come with you!” you don't know where he’s taking you, or what it means to go with him. You do know that you’ll have a lot to tell Yukong, NDA or not, and that you’ll never forget this day.

Smiling again, this time devilishly, Blade pulls away from you, pinching your cheek. “Good girl.”

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade honkai #honkai smut #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr blade #blade smut #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x reader smut #minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#hsr blade smut #hsr ren

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ccomilk · 2 years

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turns out the trick to breaking art block is ms paint <3

(ID below cut bc it is quite long!)

[ID: various MS Paint doodles of Hermitcraft people. the first drawing is Grian and Scar hugging each other, while both putting "kick me" signs on each other's back.

the second image consist of Scar and Jellie, Grian looking angrily at Scar's chest and them in the "cover them up slut" meme, Mumbo comparing his height against Ranboo (who is significantly taller somehow) while Grian stares up from waist-height, and Grian riding on Mumbo's shoulders.

the third image is various drawings of Creature Grian. he is jumping around, sleeping, and looking generally monstrous. in one doodle he's hugging Mumbo. a small doodle at the bottom is of OP giving a thumbs-up and saying "how to kill art-block: MS Paint".

the final image is drawings of Ren and Doc, including Ren as a puppy, Ren yelling at something, and King Ren giving Doc puppy eyes, who is coldly saying "no". End ID.]

#art #digital art #sketches #ms paint #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #grian #rendog #rentheking #docm77 #mumbo jumbo #my art #btw creature grian is based off of sss-eriema's AU which is v fun and you should all look at #and also 'covet' which is a fic on ao3 which is extremely good #i love both AU's dearly #anyway this is just the first batch of ms paint doodles so i will be back with more soon #o7777777

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koenigami · 6 months

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tags : gn!reader, fluff, nightly shenanigans with kunigami

“Ren.” Nothing.

“Baby.” Silence.

“Rensuke!” The arm lazily thrown across your waist flinches as Kunigami startles at your not so quiet whisper of his name.

To be frank, you have been pondering for a few minutes about whether you should wake him up or not. Die in embarrassment or die like a soldier.

You had clearly chosen the first option as you watched the man beside you hum half asleep before offering you his undivided attention.

“What is it, baby? You okay?” Kunigami’s palm rubbed over his eye as he propped himself up on his other arm, elbow digging into the mattress.

“I have to pee.” You tell him, lips forming into a little pout as you wait for your knight in shining armor to agree to save you from your misery.

Which is you being too scared to go on your own.

With a sigh, he lets himself fall back down on the mattress, the way he adjusts the blanket over his body- a clear sign that it will take him some more persuasion.

“Ren?” You sit up against the headboard and poke his cheek, with an innocent and seemingly timid voice trying to soften him. “Please.”

“Baby, the toilet is right down the hallway. I’m sure you’ll survive it.”

“A long and very, very dark hallway.” You precise, poking his cheek again.

“Then turn the lights on.” Your third attempt to nudge his face is interrupted by his hand wrapping around yours, giving the back of your hand a soft kiss before placing it down on the mattress.

You watch him yawn loudly and bury his face deeper into the softness of his pillow, before trying to go back to dreamland.

Silence envelops the both of you again. A minute passes. And another. Until you hear Kunigami suddenly shuffle underneath the blanket before halting, only to realise that you have also lied back down.

You try to hold back your triumphant smile once you hear the padding sound of his bare feet drag through the room while he rounds the bed.

“Holding it in is not healthy.” He reprimands, offering you an outstretched hand while the other stifles his yawn. “Come on.”

Without another word, you take his hand as your hero guides you to the bathroom, making sure to turn on the lights with an exaggerated gesture that says See? It’s that simple.

Once having reached your destination, you take a seat and do your thing, all the while Kunigami leans his shoulder against the doorframe. With his arms crossed over his chest, and head hanging low, you fear that he might just fall asleep in that position and topple over.

Making sure to wash your hands quickly before drying them off, you throw another glance at him and smile when you notice him staring back at you, soft sleepy eyes roaming over your body.

“Done?” He asks and you hum in approval before taking his hand in yours, swinging it back and forth as your little nightly adventure comes to an end and you get back in your bedroom.

Once settled in your bed, the blanket is draped over your bodies and Kunigami’s arm pulls your back flush against his chest, his breath tickling the soft hair on the back of your neck.

“Thanks, baby.” You murmur and grab his hand that’s pressed against your stomach, weaving your fingers through his and giving it an appreciating squeeze.

The only response you get is a drowsy hum that makes you chuckle breathily before you eventually relax in his hold.

#kunigami rensuke #rensuke kunigami #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami #kunigami fluff #blue lock kunigami #kunigami x reader #bllk kunigami #kunigami imagines

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a-aexotic · 1 year

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hi ren, biggg congratulation and the eras tour celebration is such a cool concept 🥳

🌙 please for Rafe and Paris!

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. literally nothing except fluff, and illusions to smut?

summary. rafe is in love with utterly and fully in love with y/n

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

Everything about You and Rafe had been unpredicted, no one in a million years that Rafe "Druggie" Cameron could pull someone like you. You guys getting together was definitely not on anyone's list of things that were going to happen that year, but it did.

And honestly neither of you couldn't care less. You and Rafe were completely and utterly in love with each other and nothing could get in the way.

Rumors, people, family, circumstances. None of that mattered in the case of you two. Especially Rafe. After everything with his sister, always being a second choice, when he finally was someone's first choice, someone's favorite person, none of that mattered. He was his absolute happiest when he was with you.

I'M SO IN LOVE THAT I MIGHT STOP BREATHING.

You and Rafe had been together for a year now and Rafe had done a complete 360 from where he was at before he met you. Last year, he was at the lowest of his life; completely high all the time, partying every night, new girl every week. Now, he was sober and with the love of his life.

It had been a year now and neither of you have had the urge to say the scariest three words in a relationship, especially a relatively new one.

Rafe had realized he loved you two weeks into dating you but of course he hadn't said it, he didn't want to scare you off. He was already crazy enough, imagine if he just told you he loved you two weeks into dating?

Rafe had just something so out of pocket that you let out a loud laughing, making Rafe stop and think for second before joining in your laughter. It was so bad that you genuinely had stopped breathing, hanging on to the counter to stop from falling over. Your eyes were tearing up and Rafe's stomach had begun to hurt.

"Oh my gosh, I love you." You accidentally blurted once you stopped laughing. You and Rafe both instantly jumped up, both staring at each other. Your heart jumped and you didn't know how Rafe was going to react, his face unreadable.

"Wait, what?"

You couldn't back out now. "I-I love you"

Rafe felt like he was going to pass out with excitement. "I love you too, Y/N."

ROMANCE IS NOT DEAD, IF YOU KEEP IT JUST YOURS.

If Rafe had a dime for every time someone had made a rumor about the two of you, he would be richer than his dad and that's saying something. You guys were OBX's favorite topic to gossip about.

Instead of getting offended, you and Rafe had made it into a fun game anytime Sarah had told you something you heard. You guys call it "Would this happen in an alternate universe?"

The game kind of says it all. You and Rafe would see how realistic the rumor was. It became such a fun game for you two that you guys started making up your own rumors as well.

You sat in the passenger seat of the car, listening to Rafe tell you the next rumor. "Y/N left Rafe... for Ward."

You gasped and then let out a giggle, "Ward?"

"Yup."

"That is the most outlandish shit I've ever heard, oh my gosh." You replied making Rafe hum in response, "Never. I would never leave you for Ward, my gosh. How do people come up with these?"

"Never?"

You felt Rafe's gaze on you as you furrowed your eyebrows, "Yes, Rafe. I would never leave you for Ward."

"What about JJ?"

"Maybe..."

Rafe scoffed as you let out another one of your exceptionally loud laughs.

NO, I DIDN'T SEE THE NEWS, CAUSE WE WERE SOMEWHERE ELSE.

For your third year anniversary, Rafe had taken you to a Hawaii Cruise. This was the first time both of you had gone on a trip by yourselves so it was way more fun for the both of you. You guys didn't have to sneak around anywhere, having a lot more alone time then before.

Rafe had gotten a buzzcut a few months ago and you've grown to absolutely adore it. At first, when you got the spontaneous text from Rafe telling you he was buzzing all his hair off, you were going to cry. But once you saw it, you fell in love all over again. It gave him a mature sugar daddy look and you loved it.

One of the reasons why you dreaded him buzzing his hair is that you wouldn't be able to run your finger through his hair but now that it's semi grown, you could kind of do that again.

You and Rafe laid on the pool chair, Rafe laying next to you with his head on your chest as you twisted his semi grown out buzzcut. You guys both watched the dark sky in comforting silence, enjoying each other's company.

You heard Rafe sigh. "I'm so grateful I met you, Y/N."

"Me too, Rafe. Me too."

"No, I mean like... like I seriously can't imagine my life without you in it." Rafe looked up to meet your eyes and you felt like you were going to cry of happiness. "You feel like home, baby. You always have."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Rafe. I'd be lost without you."

And suddenly everything to Rafe made sense. There was no more confusion on where he was going, what he was doing with his life because it was all clear to him in that moment. It was all you. As long as he was spending his life with you, he was happy.

"Let's get married."

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mochiwrites · 1 month

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okay but I’m thinking about third life being the only canon life game in secret husbands au and how fucking dramatic scar and grian would be about the entire thing

like grian definitely feels bad for accidentally killing scar with the creeper. and he is Very serious about staying at scar’s side (scar is Extremely pleased with this outcome because now he gets to kiss grian All The Time even here)

but thinking about some of the third life dynamics, specifically martyn thinking grian needs to be “saved” from scar — I can imagine him going to ren and being like “m’lord, we need to rescue grian! he’s being tricked!”

and ren is So casual about grian and scar and “worry not, me hand. I believe grian to be in no danger. it’s simply an extremely elaborate flirting ritual between them. we must not interrupt.”

martyn stares at him like he’s grown three heads

like yes the angst of the cactus ring Does exist here but also third life becomes 10x sillier. do you see the vision

#momo rambles #secret husbands au

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freshmiraclecheesecake · 7 months

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Why Pyrrha isn't the leader

Jaune and Ruby in leadership class with Ruby have trouble picking her second.

Ruby: Why is this so hard?

Jaune: *who's already done* Having trouble Ruby?

Ruby: Yeah like Wiess has been taught by some of the best tutors in the world.

Jaune: But can be really difficult to work with.

Ruby: Yeah, so do I pick Yang or Blake?

Jaune: I'd go with Blake if you're out of action Yang is probably not going to be in the right headspace to lead.

Ruby: Bit of an understatement, So I'm guessing you picked Pyrrha right.

Jaune: Nope, Ren is calm, collected and is used to fighting with Nora so minimal loss of team cohesion.

Ruby: oh that makes sense. *sees Nora's name under Ren's* *grabs Jaune's classwork* wait you picked a third?

Jaune: Yeah team JNPR did a leadership hierarchy after the first leadership class. We do a strategy meeting after leadership class, Although we will likely do a group study season after this class.

Ruby: Oh that's not a bad idea I'll try that with my team, it'd give me a chance to explain my reasoning. But why is Nora in the third spot?

Jaune: Well if both me and Ren are down then things have gone badly wrong and unfortunately Nora knows how to deal with that.

Ruby: Ok but what about Pyrrha?

Jaune: *thousand-yard stare* She can never be in charge.

#jaune arc #rwby #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos

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aleosaur · 10 months

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echoes stuck in time

when alex appeared on the boat–after riley leaves jacob behind–saying you shouldn't have to go alone, i was kicking my feet. but when jonas appeared saying "can i have like two real quick minutes with alex for a second?" at the dock, i was balling.

so what if we are forced to walk all the way to the beach, watching the beginning parts of oxenfree play out instead of only seeing jonas's segment before being glitched to the beach?

[ID: A predominantly black, white, and red comic of Riley seeing momentarily glimpses of the original Oxenfree kids on Edward's Island.

The first page has the background of a rundown Edwards Island sign and other miscellaneous objects that fade further down the page.

The first panel is of Riley–on the left–on her walkie-talking looking in confusion at a ghostly image of Jonas passing by to the right, saying, "Can I have two real quick minutes with Alex for a second?" (his words are italicized).

The second panel is of Riley pushing a large garbage bin to the right as a ghostly Ren argues, "I just... If you are thinking of leaving, I just hope you're doing it for the right reasons" (his words are italicized).

The third panel has Riley, far in the background, climbing down a cliff and staring at the ghostly images of a laughing Clarissa and a speaking Nona that are engaged in conversation: Clarissa's loud laughter is interjected with Nona's "Oh God." Clarissa follows up asking, "Wait. Have I told you about Brad's Car?" to which Nona exclaims, "What? No?! What happened" (their entire conversation is italicized).

The second page is completely white with a speech bubble in black saying, "Those people... They're your friends?" said by Riley, off-screen.

A back profile of a ghostly Alex with her head turned to the right. Two red text box say, "Kind of. Yes and no."

The third panel shows a side view of Riley to the left. Two red text box: "They– sighs."

The last panel has a zoomed out back-view of Alex on the left and RIley on the right with her putting a hand on Alex's ghostly shoulder. A red square text box saying: "It's hard to explain." End ID]

#do you see the vision #please tell me im not the only one #oxenfree #lost signals #lost signals spoilers #allo arts

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leviathanspain · 11 months

Note

i just saw your guidelines , thank you!! sorry it flew right over my head, i appreciate you for directing me to the page when you responded :D

i have two ideas but you may choose which one interests you the most!! thank you again so much, i love your writing <3

would like a kylo ren x reader please, pronouns can be whatever you'd like but i prefer she/her. the point of view is up to you! i prefer second but i think you prefer third and/or first and i don't mind either or!

the first idea is kylo and y/n have been together for two years but it was kept within the first order and not public because kylo knew people (like the resistance) might use it against him. maybe during a fight between the first order and the resistance on a planet, y/n would get kidnapped by the resistance. this was finn's idea because he knows kylo has a significant other. what the resistance does with y/n is up to you, whether it be to lead kylo into some sort of trap, or to get information out of her, a mix of both... it's all up to you! finn knows that she's his only weakness. eventually kylo will save her. bonus points if she's in rough shape and in bad physical condition. kylo gets really upset because he thinks he’s doing a bad job keeping her safe and that he failed to protect her. angsty , self-loathing kylo but y/n trying to make him feel better.

the other idea has a bit of angst aspects as well but less action. it’s been about half a year or maybe even a year of kylo and y/n dating. everyone knows of his anger issues and tantrums. not even stormtroopers will want to be within 10 feet of him when he’s having an “episode”. the only person who would go up to him is y/n. one time kylo was so upset that he didn’t think before acting. when y/n went to calm him down he hurt her. nothing too physically harming , it hurt more emotionally than it did physically. maybe he yelled at her a lot and said things he didn’t mean , he could do anything. then she gets super upset and runs off to their shared quarters. he ends up finding her crying.

he’s never seen her cry or show weakness before.

you can pick one of the two!! thank you so much again and please , if these topics aren’t interesting , please tell me <3

stargirl

kylo ren x reader

synopsis: in your captivity, all you can think about is him, in love and in hate

a/n: anything in italics is a past memory, and i just combined the two into one, so i hope you like it!!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you had wondered when you’d be interrogated. it was inevitable, you had been through enough war and fighting to know that whenever someone was kidnapped and held captive, they would be interrogated.

you had done it before, multiple times.

you couldn’t say that you hated it. the only dark part of your morality let you love what you’ve done. of course, having the pleased eye of kylo ren staring at you was also the encouragement you needed whenever you felt doubts.

the door had opened unexpectedly, you could hear the woosh, and immediately you closed your eyes in anger, “what is it?” you heard the footsteps of heavy boots, most likely a trooper or a knight.

you turned around and saw the opposing figure of one of the knights of ren. you raised your eyebrow and the knight cleared their throat, “master ren has been acting strange,” again they cleared their throat, anxiety waved off of them, “he’s been..” they trailed off and you inhaled slightly.

the knight exhaled, their shoulders dropping with relief at your reaction. this was nothing new. kylo had his fits of rage or tantrums where he was practically inconsolable.

after working with him so closely and developing more than just a friendship, you were well versed in the game of calming down kylo.

you waved the knight away, “i will be right there.” the knight nodded, gave a respectful bow and walked off.

there was a loud slam against your cell that awoke you. the pathetic excuse for a blanket fell of your shoulders as you sat up, wiping your eyes as you heard the cell door creak open, “let’s go.” a hand came up to your arms and pulled you up onto your feet. you would protest, but you stayed silent, keeping a calm face. but the man’s fingers dug into your arm, making it hard for you not to cry out.

you were hauled out of the cell and practically dragged to another room, nearly as small as the cell, you were pushed inside, made to sit at one of the only two chairs in the room.

you looked around, there was no sign of the rest of the resistance members. perhaps they were hiding their prisoners away from the others, obviously on purpo-

“you can stop trying to figure out where everyone else is.” he was tall, a younger looking man, his face whispered familiarity.

he pulled the chair out opposite of yours and sat down carefully, his eyes grazing over your face. you looked at him, not willing to break eye contact.

he smiled hard, almost menacingly, “isn’t this odd? we’ve met, many times before..i know you, but you don’t know me..” he trailed off, “y/n.”

your name peeked your attention. hardly anyone outside of the order knew your first name. only kylo, a few officers, and the knights knew your true name. but you were always referred to as iza’re, or iza’re ren.

you narrowed your eyes at the man, “get to the point. what do you want from the first order?” you were getting bored, and if this is how it’s going to be, you needed to cut it short.

“you don’t know who i am?” the man looked surprised to see you so nonchalant. as if your true name was supposed to be the key to everything.

you shrugged again, leaning your elbows on the table, you got close to his face, “you say that like i’m supposed to care. i won’t repeat myself again,” you hissed, “what do you want from the first order?”

“get out. all of you!” kylo ren’s anger exhibited itself in his voice, a large hand outstretched itself towards the door, the metal door heaved open with the force and the rest of the troopers filed out, quickly as can be.

fn-2187 stared at kylo ren. even under his mask, he could just imagine his expression. fn-2187 knew that the moment you had walked in, that this wasn’t going to end well.

he followed the rest of the troopers out to the hallway. there was a large window that allowed people to see in, and fn-2187 had walked slow so that he could end up in front of the window.

“you need to calm down.” you had been talking to kylo through the force the entire way here. he was being stubborn, unresponsive to your usual tactics, you realized that maybe this wouldn’t be like other times.

“kylo.” you called his name, his back was turned to you and you were dying in the silence.

“why can’t you ever just stay out of it?” kylo turned around on his heel, the dark fabric of his cape followed him, and he began to stalk towards you, “hmm? why do you always think that you can save the day? you’re pathetic. a pathetic excuse for a force user, a pathetic excuse for a soldier of the first order..” he listed off all your weaknesses in a cruel list, “i cant stand to look at you. you make me fucking sick.” he had stopped you cold against the wall. even just arms length away from you, you could feel the rage, feel the truth to his feelings radiate off of him.

you wanted to cry. right then and there, you wanted to ball yourself up and sob on the floor.

but you scrunched your face slightly, as if not to lose the nerve, “find me when you’re done being an asshole.” you didn’t even look at him as you stalked past him, glancing at the open window towards the troopers, who were all facing away from the window.

except for one.

“what do you mean you ‘think’? we’ve been holding her for days and you’ve been in there for hours, and that’s what you’ve come up with?” poe had been overseeing the interrogation, and it was clear that it was going nowhere.

“threatening to blow up starkiller base would get us somewhere if we actually could.” poe rubbed his face, the feeling of a headache was coming on.

“why can’t we?” finn stared at poe, and poe laughed, realizing that finn was being serious.

“are you sure it’s her? it couldn’t be someone else? another trooper, perhaps?” poe looked at finn, who sighed, “she’s the only one i’ve ever seen that close to ren. it’s gotta be her.”

kylo hadn’t thought to apologize. but you had been ignoring him for days, even going as far as having stormtroopers deliver messages.

he had had enough when he had tried to talk to you through the force, and felt nothing in response.

“are you done?” the sound of the metal door opening had you turning your neck to see kylo ren, helmet off, hair dishelved, stalking in.

he set his helmet down on your dining table and kicked his shoes off, “i asked you something.” he stared down at you, his eyes searching you for something back.

“really?” you come in here after the way you talked to me a few days ago and expect us to be fine?” you looked up from your data log and stood up, “you yelled at me, tore me apart, called me pathetic many times over-“

“i’m sorry.” kylo interrupted you, and his face softened. this was utterly unlike him.

“what?” your own voice sounded distant and you blinked. a hand flew to your chest to feel the beating heart inside, “did you just-“

“yes. i am sorry.” kylo walked over to you, and watched as your face broke, tears spilling as you walked into his arms.

silence and the sounds of your sniffles filled the room. all that you ever wanted from him was an apology, and he had finally done it.

“i swear to you,” kylo broke the silence, the quiet was drowned out by his husky voice, “that i will never do that to you again.”

“and you caught them..?” poe’s eyebrows knitted together with confusion. his pilot uniform jacket hung on the chair beside him, as he paced the room, “let’s rewind,”

finn nodded, and poe sighed, “you were sent down to give her a message,”

“it had something to do with the knights.” finn had tried to remember what exactly the message was about but it had been nearly two years since then.

“and instead kylo ren answered the door?” poe repeated the events and finn nodded. “are you sure it wasn’t his quarters and you’re just an idiot?”

finn’s expression fell and he rolled his eyes, “stormtroopers are supposed to know. it was her quarters, her name was in a blazing plaque outside the door.”

a knock at the door had interrupted you. kylo had stripped off his clothes, leaving only the thick black sweatpants on, but even then, they hung dangerously low on him.

you, on the other hand, barely had anything on.

“fuck.” you cursed, and stuffed whatever shirt you could find off the floor. just by the scent of it, you knew it was kylo’s, but you still shrugged it on. you got off the bed, trying to find some shoes but kylo grabbed your arm, “i’ll get it.”

he was already getting up, and even with your protests, it was too late.

“master ren!” the robotic voice of a trooper met your ears and you cringed. troopers talked, and this was definitely something to talk about. there was an exchange of words between the trooper and kylo, until finally, “you are dismissed, fn-2187.”

“that’s kind of hot, no?” poe had been staring a little too long at the wall, clearly imagining what finn had described.

finn’s face turned into a picture of disgust, “there is something wrong with you.”

“iza’re to starkiller base. iza’re to base, does anyone copy?” you were falling, and fast.

the resistance had been chasing you for almost an hour. you had tried to lose them in some astroid graveyard but they were on your ass, until they shot your ship.

“fuck! someone! iza’re to base!” your hands clutched at the controls as you felt your chest rise and fall with fear.

kylo was right. you should have never gone off alone.

“kylo! im just off the astroid chunks by naboo.” just as you had finished telling your location, the ships power shut off, and you felt yourself blackout as the ship began to fall harder.

kylo had them playback your voice. over and over again.

the fear in your voice had been seared into his mind for days. he had tried to reach you over the force but was met with nothing. the usual thrum of your power would at least let him know you were alive. but he felt sick when he felt nothing.

“and no one heard this until when?” kylo looked around at the table filled with officers and military personnel. they all had this look of stupidity on their faces that made kylo want to knock them all out cold.

“this morning-“ a staff spoke up, “we believe she was taken by the resistance.”

kylo’s hands smashed against the table, “this morning?! find her!” he yelled at the officers. he raised his hands and suddenly they were all clutching at their throats, “find her now or i will murder every single one of you until someone does.”

“she’s loyal.” rey had observed, watching you through the glass, she wondered if you could see them all, gawking at you.

“of course she is. she’s sleeping with the supreme leader of the first order.” poe commented, rolling his eyes slightly, “i say we just lie.”

finn turned towards poe, “didn’t you just say that we shouldn’t lie? you got all mad-“

poe shrugged, “i was a different person then. say that ren is dead, and the first order is ashes-“

“oh like she’ll believe that-“ finn replied sarcastically. he had his hands on his hips and stared at you.

you were looking off into the distance, totally unaware of them on the other side staring at you.

“she’ll know. you said she’s a force user, correct?” rey peered at you and finn nodded, “yes. why?”

“she’ll know we’re lying. she probably also knows that we can see her,” you turned suddenly, meeting their eyes, “-right through this glass..” rey trailed off, and poe whistled lowly.

“wow. this is embarrassing…” poe laughed nervously. finn laughed, patting his friends shoulder as he walked off.

kylo was close. he hadn’t realized until now that it was the distance muffling your power. he could feel you, a quiet thrum in his head, he knew you were close.

“kill anything and everyone. i don’t care- just get her out alive.” his instructions were incredibly clear to the knights and troopers. he wanted you more than he wanted the resistance gone.

“so..” he had been trying to get you to talk for almost thirty minutes now. unlike his friend, this one seemed to be a little dull. “what’s between you and ren?”

you raised your head, and narrowed your gaze, “you mean my superior, the supreme leader kylo ren?” you were so serious that poe had to think about it before nodding weakly.

“nothing. bring me the trooper. fn-2187, is it? at least he knew what kind of questions to ask..” you waved a hand, dismissively towards the man and turned away, hoping he would leave.

“oh my god.” poe let the words escape as he shut the door behind him, “i don’t know what he sees in her-“ he looked at finn, “she’s asking for you. like specifically for you.” he raised his eyebrows at finn, who laughed in shock.

rey looked at the men, “don’t tell me you’re going to go in there.” she held up a hand to finn and he shrugged, “what else should we do?”

rey sighed, “give her up? she’s clearly nobody to ren, maybe finn was wrong.”

kylo ren had blown up half of the resistance base. he had felt nothing as he did so, and nothing more as he stepped off his ship, and hauled ass to wherever the hell you were.

he tried to use his own force powers to try and locate you, cutting down anyone that tried to fight him.

but it was worth nothing. nothing drove kylo ren more than you, and he would find you even if it killed him.

the argument between poe and finn had barely lasted before the emergency alarm had gone off. shouts echoed down the hall and they all began to run.

troopers were all over the place, blasters were shooting at everyone and they knew this was kylo.

“maybe finn was right..” rey looked at the men with a sheepish smile, and finn rolled his eyes, “get down!” he shouted at rey, who just barely ducked the blast that was shot towards her.

“if it’s him then shouldn’t someone go fend him off?” finn stared at poe and rey, as if waiting for one of them to volunteer.

poe shrugged, “i don’t think she’s worth it. barely talked.” finn didn’t even bother arguing when rey began to agree.

you could hear the sounds of a fight through the door. you couldn’t see through the glass window, but you could just imagine it.

the door opened and you half expected to see one of the two guys who had been interrogating you. but instead there he was.

wearing his usual all black, kylo cut down the room and immediately opened his arms, pulling you into them. “y/n..oh y/n.” there was a sigh of relief as you wrapped your arms around him.

you were crying.

this entire time you had forced yourself not to cry, not to show emotion. perhaps you had saved it for this moment. “kylo.” his name rolled off your tongue, “im sorry.”

kylo shook his head, “don’t. it’s all my fault. i should’ve just gone out there with you.” he scolded himself, shaking his head as he thought back to what he could’ve done.

“no. don’t. you always do that, you take responsibility for a decision i made.” you hugged him even tighter, “don’t. okay. just don’t.”

kylo didn’t even protest, he just held you all the more tighter in his arms.

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

Text

“I’m traumatized for life, it was awful,” Grian says, finishing his story for Iskall with great drama, and leaving Iskall with a great deal of questions.

These include: why did Iskall listen to this man rant for nearly two hours? Why did Grian decide to barge into his cave base? When did Grian figure out where he was living? Was this what Mumbo went through every day when he was around? Was Scar just as bad? Why soulmates? What’s a secret soulmate? How do you kill someone on accident? What on earth did Grian mean by “jelly pandas”? Were death games always this, you know… fruity?

Mostly, though, Iskall has to ask: “Why were you doing it for a third time then?”

Grian stares at Iskall, almost offended.

“I mean,” Iskall says. “This is, er, the third time you’ve done this, you know.”

Grian stares.

“You are the one who organizes this,” Iskall tries again.

Grian stares harder.

“You could always just… not? If it’s so traumatic, I mean.”

“No, that’s stupid,” Grian says.

“Okay…?” Iskall says, prompting an elaboration. Grian gives none. They stand there in awkward silence for several minutes.

Finally, Iskall sighs. “Your life sounds very hard,” he says, exasperated.

“THANK YOU!” Grian exclaims, hearing absolutely none of the dripping sarcasm in Iskall’s voice. “It’s just like, you know, it’s like, I knew Ren and Big B…”

Grian continues on again. Iskall sighs. You know, he’d thought it had been bad enough after the first one. But no. They did it again. Twice! He wonders if he can convince Ren, now that Iskall’s picking up a position in his court, to make a quest to get Grian to stop. Unfortunately, he then remembers that not only was Ren also involved, but also he’s twice as dramatic as Grian.

New plan: if Iskall steals Mumbo back from vacation—

#hermitcraft #double life smp #hc x dlsmp #a bee fic #iskall85 #grian #this is just a stupid joke about the premise of a bunch of life series crossover stuff #which is to say: grian why do you keep doing this to yourself

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rachetmath · 2 months

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Paper Pleaser = RWBY+NRO+PP

Weiss: hey Jaune?

Jaune: What is it?

Weiss: Were you…like… you know… were

Yang: Were you f’ing the paper pleasers?

Jaune: *eye twitching* No. What the hell gave you that idea?

Blake: Well you named them after us. One was named Pyrrha and…

Jaune: *holding in his vomit*

Ruby: Look we just-

Jaune: Stop! Okay no. Phew. Oo this fanbase. Look, girls… I have a question. What were the paper pleasers?

Weiss: Their servants.

Jaune: One. What else?

Blake: They’re smart.

Jaune: Yeah… smart.

Yang: Oh. Oh… they are also stupid.

Jaune: Yep. That's the word.

Ruby: But they took care of you.

Jaune: Yes because of the list. Which takes me time to complete. Remember when I say they're predictable?

Ruby: Yeah… but what-

Jaune: Ruby, when I first got there, I was sad. So I thought maybe, at first, they did all that to cheer me up. After the third time, I told them, “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” They looked at me confused. Also, they were living creatures.

Ruby: Oh.

Weiss: I see.

Blake: That explains something.

Yang: Hold on! Then why did you name them after us?

RWB: Yeah!

Jaune:*raises an eyebrow*

RWBY: *stares back at him with a serious look*

Jaune: Are you sure you want an answer? Because I made it clear.

RWBY: YES!

Jaune: Okay. Y'all are reckless. I can't count, how many times, you almost died. And I couldn't do a damn thing about it. In fact, I can't help but feel like I am the cause because I don't bother to grab you by the shoulder and tell you to slow down.

Yang: Oh.

Jaune: Yeah. Ascension is still death. So if you were to die unlike the Paper pleasers, you wouldn't return. You don't come back to life. You're six feet under the ground. And even if you do come back you won't remember me or your life. Then I have to tell your family. I have to live with it. I have to go on. Me.

Ruby: I didn't -

Jaune: “Know.”? Of course. You never think about it. No one. Not Pyrrha. Penny. Alyx. Nobody! They don't have to live with it! I do! Just like Pietro. Pyrrha's parents. Ren. Qrow and your father.

Yang: But Alyx-

Jaune: Caused me more stress. Betrayed my trust. And almost killed me. One act of good… doesn't make up for years of pain.

RWBY: *silent and feel bad*

Jaune: I struggled… to let Penny go. Now I have to let go of Alyx. I have to forgive her. And that's hard. It really is. So I think you know now, Ruby, why I got pissed after you spoke of them like they weren't real.

Ruby: I'm-

Jaune: No need. Just understand this. Just because you had it ruff… … doesn't mean you had it worse. *leaves*

Ruby: *feels worse* Okay, I’m going to go cry.

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #lie ren #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna #penny polendina #pyhrra nikos #rwby alyx #rwby volume 9

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swee7dream · 5 months

Text

reliance huang renjun x reader | 3.4k words

summary: for someone so insistent on self-reliance, renjun has to deal with you and your drunken escapades a lot more than expected.

genres: romance and poor attempts at comedy

trigger & content warnings: reader gets drunk and i accidentally made renjun lowkey a weirdo. sorry o7 he's still loveable tho i promise

Outside of the usual, this time it only took you two hours to spill what you had called Renjun over the phone in tears that morning. It usually takes around a week, seven heart-wrenching romcoms, and turning on the otherwise never-used essential oil diffuser your mom bought when you first moved out. This time, all you needed was alcohol.

“Stop laughing!”

“I’m not!” Renjun hides his mouth with the back of his hand, but he’s still visibly shaking as he holds onto the edge of the dark oak bar table. “I’m not laughing. I promise.”

“You are such a liar.” You glare over your glass as you take a sip of your drink.

“Okay, so maybe I’m laughing a little bit. You can’t blame me, though. How did your roommate house pigeons of all animals in your apartment for four months without you noticing? Even better, how did your landlord find out before you?”

“I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know…” Your shoulders drop when you sigh. “Is this even legal? I wasn’t the one sneaking animals into the building, it was them! Why am I being kicked out too?”

“I told you they were bad news from the beginning.” Renjun licks the corner of his lips and picks up his glass.

“I will punch you in the gut,” you reply without missing a beat. Your blinks quicken until they come to a full stop, your eyes wide open as if someone had taped your eyelids back. “I might have to move back in with my parents… No…”

“What’s wrong with your parents? They’re great.” Renjun smirks, propping his temple onto the knuckles of his unoccupied hand.

“Great to you, favorite child,” you grumble. “You’ve never had to deal with the never-ending dishwashing of that house. Plus, you know how intense my parents are.”

“Fair enough,” Renjun shrugs, looking away to make eye contact with the bartender and wordlessly asking for a refill with the shake of the melting ice cubes in his cup. “Your dad’s summer training was… rough, to say the least.”

The memories of those hell-like middle school summers still make you shiver. Your father’s voice echoes in your mind as he barks orders on landscaping at you, Renjun, and the other kids in your neighborhood.

‘Get those weeds up from the roots! If you don’t, they’ll grow back up. Ah-! What did I say? Dig into the stones and get those roots out, kid!’

‘No! I said move the large stones to the backyard. I didn’t? Well, you should’ve known what I meant!’

“He’s a green thumb,” Renjun pulls you out of your thoughts to see his glass being refilled with golden rum. “Who doesn’t love a man with a nice garden?”

You just turn and stare at him.

“Are you trying to home-wreck my parents or what? What are you kissing up for?”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls his head back, mock-offended. “It’s not my fault your dad is irresistible. Let me know if your parents are ever looking for a third.”

“Huang! Ren! Jun!” You give a punch to his arm in between each pause. “Don’t be gross.”

“Ow!” He swats your hand away, face contorting into a pout. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“Yeah right.” You roll your eyes before dropping them down to your glass. The tip of your index passes along the rim of it, watching your reflection in the little of your drink remaining.

“Thank you, by the way. Like, seriously. I just called you up and made you cancel your plans so you could listen to me complain and spout nonsense… You didn’t have to do that. But you did. That makes me really happy, so… thanks.”

When you don’t get a response, you raise your head to Renjun staring at you as if you somehow grew a pimple the size of a horse on your face. His hands are pulled close to his chest with his fingers recoiled.

“You know what? Never mind-” You begin to turn back and sigh.

“I’m joking.” He nudges you with his elbow. “Of course I would pull up for you. I didn’t have any plans tonight, but even if I did, I would’ve cancelled them in a heartbeat for you. That’s what we’re supposed to do as each other’s only friends.”

“What? Hey! Okay, no. You are not my only friend. I have other friends.”

“Your mom doesn’t count.”

“Uh, first of all, it’s not just my mom. Second of all, why would my mom not count?! Having a good relationship with your parents is something to be proud of!”

“Yes, but no. She still doesn’t count, I mean. Congrats on your everlasting bond with your mom or whatever.” Renjun’s lips press into a straight line. “Even if she did, though, that’s still only like two people. Me, your mom, who else?”

“My d-”

“If you name any other family member, I promise you I will leave you stranded here.”

You clear your throat, remembering your only chance of getting back home without freezing to death is sitting right next to you.

“Eu…gene?”

“Who?” A giant question mark can be seen over Renjun’s head.

“Oh, come on! You know Eugene. Eugene from the office! The one who memorized my coffee order? He’s super nice. I told you about him!”

“Oh.” Renjun licks his bottom teeth and looks around the bar, clearly disinterested. “Eugene. No.”

“No?”

“No.” He drops his gaze back on you. “People from work don’t count.”

“This game is so rigged.” You throw yourself on the back of your seat. “Why on earth would work friends not count?”

“Don’t call them work friends. You two are not friends,” Renjun complains, messing around with a paper napkin. “You’re more like… work acquaintances.”

“Jun-”

“No, listen to me. You hate your job. I know it, you know it, the kind gentleman behind the bar and his dog both know it.”

“I don’t hate it that much… I only complained once or twice…” you mumble, staring as your pissy friend performs an optical illusion before your eyes, folding up the flimsy paper into a swan.

“What the heck. That’s so cool. Do that with this one.” You take the napkin that was collecting the condensation of your glass and toss it on his hand.

“Ew! Gross, gross, gross. It’s wet!” He tosses it back to you, wiping the back of his hand dry with the opposite sleeve of his coat. Renjun glares at you with unintimidating eyes. “This is why you don’t have any more friends.”

“I told you I do. I have very real work friends.”

“Acquaintances.”

“Friends.”

“You think that guy is stealing funds from the company.”

“I’m all for people getting their hard-earned money.”

“Through stealing?”

“Stealing takes a lot of hard work, Jun.” You look at him as if you had any experience on the subject.

“Right, so you’re admitting you're friends with a criminal?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

Checkmate.

“Eugene and I are… acquaintances. I mean, I wouldn’t buy him a donut if I was at a café or anything.”

“Ah,” Renjun throws his head back, grinning the grin that only a showoff can have. “Acquaintances. Of course.”

“Shut up. We’re pushing thirty. Friends are overrated anyway.” You exhale deeply. “I have more important things to do than ‘hanging out’ with people. Like finding a new apartment within a month so I don’t end up on the street.”

“I thought the plan was moving back in with your parents?”

“That’s plan Z. Right before that is plan Y: committing a crime and gaining federal housing.”

“How about trying plan R before attempting anything that will get you in ‘federal housing’?” Renjun says with air quotes.

“My R?” You stare at him horrified and slam your hand down. “I knew you had a Vocaloid phase. You always denied it. Also, did you really just tell me to go k-”

“No—plan R. For Renjun. Me, I’m Renjun.” He pats his chest. “Why don’t you just come live with me?”

“Live with you…?” Renjun frowns when he sees you slowly bring your hands up to your cheeks, twisting and turning like a schoolgirl with a crush. “A man and a woman under the same roof? Junnie, you animal!”

“Don’t start.” He swats away your hand that faux-abashedly pushes against his arm. “I’m serious, you know?”

“I know.” You quickly settle yourself in your seat. “But I’m gonna have to reject that plan. Thanks though.”

He doesn’t say anything as you bite your tongue, the sly smile dropped into a frown.

“I’m not gonna be a charity case or a nightmare roommate for you, Jun. Especially after my own experience with one,” You explain, rolling your eyes and picking at your nails. “Life is self-reliance. All I needed was a little ranting session to get back on my feet, that’s all.”

“You’re not a charity case. Stop talking like that.” He frowns. “I’m not doing this because I pity you. I’m doing it because I care about you. But fine, you don’t have to say yes. Just know my offer is always on the table.”

“I love you too.” You smile.

“That’s not what I said.”

“That’s basically what you said.” Your hand slides under the bar, interlacing fingers with Renjun.

“No, it’s really not.” He gives your hand a small squeeze.

“It is! You’re basically in love with me.”

You drop your head on his shoulder cheesing; the alcohol leaving your body in the form of giggles.

“Highly doubtable.” Renjun drops his cheek on the top of your head. “Seriously, extremely, highly doubtable.”

“What? What do you mean? I’m great!” You turn your head up to scrunch your nose at him.

“I wouldn’t call a pigeon hoarder great,” He mocks your expression. “I wouldn’t call anyone who’s a messy eater, drinker, and overall human.”

“I wasn’t the one who took care of those birds, and I would really appreciate it if you never said the ‘p-word’ around me ever again.” You feel your cheek get pulled at as he wipes off crumbs from some fries you had before. “And I’m not that messy…”

“Right,” He shakes your head on his shoulder to signal you getting off. “You reek. Let’s go home.”

“Your mom reeks!”

“Okay, you are… hammered.”

Renjun drops a couple of bills on the bar and nods at the bartender in appreciation as he takes one of your arms around his neck, his other hand dropping to your waist.

“Are we dancing? We’re dancing. Like in the ballrooms and stuff.” You start swaying. “Have you ever been ballroom dancing? I’ve never been. I really want to though. It would be nice to wear one of those big quinceañera dresses.”

“We most definitely are not dancing.” Despite his struggles to keep his grip on you, Renjun succeeds in getting you both out of the bar and on the street. “Watch your step. The sidewalk is higher.”

You don’t listen and instead laugh in good inebriated fashion, feeling gravity almost successfully pull you down onto the concrete as you don’t, in fact, watch your step. A groan escapes Renjun’s tightly pressed lips, adjusting his hold on you to continue your trek across the street.

“Pigeons!” You point at the small groups of birds now flying away by your sudden burst out. “Pigeons! You stupid flying rats! I hate you! Gimme my house back!”

Blood rushes to Renjun’s face and he can feel himself begin to sweat with how hot he’s burning. Nobody else is on your same street, but he knows for a fact the people around the corner could hear your voice boom. There’s nothing he wants more than to cover your mouth and muffle the colorful curses coming out of it, but his hands are already full and just focuses on getting you in the car.

“Shut up,” He mumbles as he buckles your seat belt in the passenger seat. You throw your arms over your head and begin smacking your mouth in the most irritating of ways. “Please stop talking.”

“What…?” Your voice comes out small and dejected, bringing flimsy hands to his cheeks. “Why are you being mean to me? I thought you were on my side… You said your offer was always on the table…”

“The offer did not come with a complimentary tolerance for whatever it is you’re doing right now. Let go of me so I can close the door and the heat doesn’t get out.”

“Don’t wanna.” Your lips form an upside-down ‘U.’

“I will bite your hands off.”

“Don’t leave me, Junnie!”

Renjun chokes mid-breath as you force his head into your neck, arms tight around his own.

“I’m not leaving you, you idiot. I’m trying to get behind the wheel so I can take you to your apartment.”

His logic is sound, but a weepy drunk is an unstoppable force that breaks through the strongest of arguments with tears alone.

“You can’t go! You can’t leave me here! I don’t wanna be alone! I don’t even know whose car this is… I don’t wanna get kidnapped by an Uber driver! That’s how all the Investigation ID true crime thingies start!”

“You’re not going to get kidnapped. This is my car, stupid!”

Renjun is forced to wait several minutes until your sleepy and unreasonably strong, drunken grip loosens around his neck. When it does, he can finally get off the uncomfortable seat he has on your lap, legs hanging out the car window and into the street. He stares daggers into your open-mouthed, sleeping figure when he closes the door.

“You’re paying for my wasted heating,” He whispers.

Renjun slams the door and walks back around the car alone, stopping at a blind spot in the rearview mirror. Technically, you are asleep and your eyes are closed. However, you can’t ever be too safe.

A muted yell comes out from deep inside Renjun. His head is thrown back and held in his hands, fingers digging in between pitch-black locks of hair. The winter cold turns his hot breath into vapor right in front of his eyes but he doesn’t stop to watch, making both of his hands come together to stretch his face. The echo of his hands clapping on his cheeks left the burning, awakening sensation he needed to get back in the car.

With the rumbling of the engine humming underneath you two, Renjun grips the wheel and looks out the windshield as if a hit-and-run was on his itinerary for tonight, his left leg bouncing whenever the car stops at a red light.

Unlike you right now, Renjun thinks, he’s not stupid. Renjun is not a boy going through puberty anymore. He knows what these feelings coursing through his body are. He knows that you calling him every time you have a bad day means he’s going to clear his schedule to watch the world’s worst films with you. Believe him, he is well aware of the fact that normal best friends don’t cuddle during movies or hold hands under tables.

They don’t buckle and unbuckle each other in their seats when drunk or carry each other up to their rooms. Normal best friends don’t have keys to each other's apartments or toothbrushes in each other’s bathrooms. Best friends don’t tuck each other into bed on a regular basis.

You two do, though.

And so, Renjun’s face is unreadable as he stands right next to your bed, his legs touching your bedframe. He looms over you like a death-baring gargoyle and you a blissfully ignorant snoozer. His fingers gently brush away the hair on your face while also keeping a tight jaw and furrowed eyebrows that bring a very Renjun-like balance to the otherwise romantic situation.

He moves his hand to hover over your nose, his mind screaming at him the idea to plug your nose until your grandfather-esque snores come to a cease. Until your lips come to a close and your bright eyes search for him in the darkness so you can slap his arm and he feels tingles all over his body from all the tangible and intangible little things you do.

You moan and groan as you wake, struck by a sudden headache that makes you feel every single blood vessel pumping through your brain. You’re thankful when you feel the pillow under your head, the sensation so strong you’re sure you would have fallen to your knees if you had been walking.

“I’m dying…”

“You’re not dying.”

“Jun?”

“It’s just a headache. From your irresponsible drinking tendencies.”

“Why are you in my room?”

“‘Why are you in my room?’ Take a wild guess why and shut up. Take this.” His mockery is harsh but you hear him get on his knees on the internationally-hated itchy carpet of your room to help you sit up straight. Despite the darkness, you see the outline of a glass being handed to you and feel a small pill drop into your other hand.

“You’re such a creep,” you try saying, speaking muffled by the pill on your tongue and later water. “You were watching me sleep? Freak.”

“Oh, you’re right. My bad. Let me just leave you to suffer the consequences of your own actions next time.”

“No!” You’ve had enough consequences lately. “Sorry. I love you. Thanks for the medicine. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Renjun pushes your forehead back from his green sweater. You have this bad habit of glomping on him whenever you want to get your way. You always have him cursing at himself on the way home because most times you succeed.

“You mean it?”

“Uh-huh! Yeah, I mean it! You’re the best best friend ever!” you whisper-yell, not wanting your headache to stick any more needles in your head. “Thank you for not dumping me on the street.”

“Even though I should’ve.”

“Even though you should’ve,” you repeat, letting go and throwing yourself back on your bed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

And in the middle of the night, the clock in the hallway ticking its way to one in the morning, Renjun decides to take the leap.

“I love you too.” He whispers, after a few minutes of silence.

“And yes, in that way,” he adds. “Let’s not go around in circles, please. I love you romantically the same way I know you love me romantically. I’ve known you since you were seven. I can read you like a book.

“I know you have this whole ego thing that won’t let you accept… this until you have your own place again because ‘life is self-reliance’ and ‘dependence is cringe’ or whatever so don’t feel stressed or anything like that.

“I’ll wait. I’ve been waiting. I’m actually a patient man, even if I don’t act like it. You know how I am, I won’t try to pull anything to rush you into a decision. I’ll just keep doing us the way we’ve been doing us since the start, okay? No pushing, no rushing, no pressure.”

Renjun ends his monologue with the groan of a hundred-year-old beast as he stands up, back aching as if he aged forty years in one night.

“I know you can hear me, by the way. You suck at pretending to be asleep. Good night.”

You hear the door creaking and see the light of the living room sneak in and out through your closed lids as the door clicks shut once more.

Heart in your throat, blood rushes in violent thumps up to your face and turns your breathing heavy. Your fingers crinkle the sheets in your grip as you bring them over your head. They come up and down again once you feel your body growing too hot for them. Your roommate’s creepy-crawly cat clock out in the hallway keeps ticking and you smell a soft hint of pigeon poop in the air.

Your best friend just confessed to you in your pigeon-infested apartment at one in the morning. It truly doesn’t get much more romantic than this.

a/n: THIS FIC TOOK SO LONG FOR WHAT. anyway shout out to glomp. has to be one of my favorite non-words. i'm going on a trip next week and won't be able to write/post so that's why this fic is a little longer than the usual! i realize i keep cycling through the same three tropes so i'm hoping the change of scenery will give me new ideas...

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tinfairies · 2 months

Text

You're Not In Control

Strade x GN! Reader

TW: force feeding, starvation, vomit, torture, fingernail pulling... Strade is a warning in of himself.

A/N: thank you to my beautiful wife for the German translations, I hope I used them right. Also this is the first thing I've ever written for Strade and I'm still not super confident I got him right so... Be nice please.

Thinking about being held captive by Strade.

You had earned the privilege of leaving the basement. (with the shock collar on of course)

You were defiant and he liked that, he liked that he hadn't entirely broken you.

Strade noticed that you didn't eat much, and slowly you started eating nothing at all.

He didn't care at first, Ren didn't eat much when he was first brought up from the basement either.

As it continued he got irritated and realized that it wasn't just anxiety keeping you from eating. You were starving yourself intentionally.

Strade didn't like that. For many reasons, but mainly because he didn't have control.

He acted like a stubborn dad at first, telling you that you couldn't leave the table until you finished your food.

"Alright, schatz. We're going to sit here until you can behave and eat." his voice dripped with venom.

Your defiance struck a fire in him when you just sat and stared at the plate.

It was decent food, steak that'd been cut up for you, green beans and potatoes. By all means it was a good meal.

But you were stubborn and refused to relenquish total control to that psychopath.

Strade sent Ren off to bed, and sat at the table all night with you. Trying to break you.

It didn't work.

The next night, he started to try and beat you into eating.

"Wenn du es nicht anders willst, bitte. We'll do it your way then." You should have been scared, and part of you was, but all that bubbled up was anger.

He removed his belt and struck you all along your back.

Dark welts formed underneath the thin shirt you were wearing, and you dropped to the floor after a few minutes of endless beating.

He kicked your ribs, the steel toe of his boot slamming into your fragile bones. You tried not to cry out, but sobs tore through your throat despite the effort. The final kick to you stomach was so hard that you threw up bile.

"Kleine Zicke! You fucking brat!" He barked, and you spent the night in the basement.

That didn't break you either.

The third night he tied your wrists and ankles to the chair and tried force feeding you.

"Mund auf. Open." he spoke like a steel knife.

Each time you spit it out, he stabbed the fork into your arm. You still didn't break.

He then put a ring gag in your mouth and tried to force a protein drink down your throat, you threw that up as well.

On the fourth night, he tied you to the chair again, but this time brought a pair of pliers up from the basement.

Each time you spit the food out, he'd pluck a fingernail from your hand.

He ran out of fingernails to remove, and you still hadn't swallowed a single bite and there was blood all over the floor.

A needless mess.

The fifth night was the final straw.

Strade had you and Ren sit at the table, he placed a plate of food in front of you and said that Ren wasn't getting food until you eat.

The look in your eyes excited him, it was defiant as always but it held a look of pleading.

A look that said "this isn't about him, leave him alone"

The three of you sat for hours, and it wasn't until you heard the sound of Ren's stomach growl that you finally gave in.

You took a bite of food, then looked to Strade. He just motioned for you to continue. By the third or fourth bite you realized that he was going to make you finish the whole plate before feeding Ren.

Once the plate was polished off, you dropped the fork abruptly. The sound of the metal clanging on the porcelain made Ren jump, and Strade just laughed then clapped his hands together.

"Sehr gut. That wasn't so hard now was it?" The smile on his face made you want to lash out.

You gave him that same fiery look as usual, but at least Ren got to eat.

#boyfriend to death #btd #btd strade #boyfriend to death strade #ren hana #ren btd #ren boyfriend to death #emetophobia

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riacte · 9 months

Text

All the routes Renchanting could go in Life Series 5:

(Self sabotage along the lines of Ren burning his tower in Last Life, swearing, angst with a happy ending, 2k)

Ren moves on, and Martyn pretends he moved on too, but he really never left. Ren forms a partnership with different people, he declares himself as best friends with someone, but when Martyn strays into his path, Ren can't help but take notice of him. Can't help but trust him once more, can't help but to offer him a deal, can't help himself.

Ren's a seasoned veteran now; he understands that war is inevitable and he has to keep his friends safe in an impenetrable fortress. He's not as naive as he was the first time, when he freely let people into his enchanting emporium. If Martyn offered to be his marketing manager this time round, Ren might not have let him (but deep down, he knows he'll always let him in). Maybe Martyn's the chink in Ren's armour. If that's the case, then so be it.

Martyn's not jealous. He's really not. Of course he's glad Ren's found new partnerships and new allies this time round. Of course he knows you can't repeat the past. He's just relieved that Ren is here this time, and he finds a little guidance in him. Something is better than nothing. Even though he has his allies, Martyn's still a wanderer, but he makes his rounds back to Ren periodically, in search for something that he's too scared to ask.

It's not his place anyway. Ren belongs somewhere. Martyn's not in the equation.

So Martyn patches up the fragments of his soul, tucks away his puns and oneliners, packs up his monologues and vows, carefully puts the memories of Third Life back in that little part of his heart, and continues to roam across the world. Walls, corners, edges. Nothing has changed.

(Still, when an unexpected mob strikes, Martyn grabs Ren in a panic, their hands find each other instinctively, they run and they run, and for a single precious moment, it's them against the world again.)

(And when Ren inevitably dies, Martyn stands and blankly stares at what's left of his not-ally, not-partner, not-king. He wonders if it would've been different if he was Ren's Hand again. Probably not. They're all doomed anyway.)

Ren and Martyn ally, hands shook in a new agreement. It's not Dogwarts, but it's something.

They have new allies and new enemies. They're close, but not too close. They have a learned sense of self preservation. They crack their jokes, tend to their crops, enchant their gear, but it's not serious, right? Treating it seriously only results in more pain later. No one wants that.

Ren understands nothing good comes out of declaring himself as king. He always gets overthrown, his beloved defenders always get killed by the masses, his kingdoms always go up in flames. It's best to keep a distance from everyone. It's for the greater good.

This is a temporary alliance. They are all temporary alliances. It's just for fun. Once the end is near, it's time for them to drift away. Ren can't bear getting people getting hurt for his sake.

"We used to be something, don't you think so?" Martyn once asks Ren.

They're both thinking about Dogwarts. About a life a long, long time ago. A doomed life. A beautiful, wonderful, yet catastrophically painful life.

Is it better to have loved and lost, or better to not have loved at all?

They seem to have came to the conclusion organically. It's out of self-preservation, after all. Don't get too close. The story of the King and his loyal Hand is over. Let the dust settle on their storybook. Let the pages turn yellow. Let it wither. Let it die.

It's awful, isn't it? How they've finally found each other, after trials and tribulations, but they're too scared to try again. Where's that defiance against fate? Where's "give me a shield and I'll follow you to the ends of the world"? Where's "this is us now, this is us"? Where's the passion, the reverence, the reckless devotion? What beat it out of them?

"... We could be something, don't you think so?" is Ren's reply.

But they don't. They don't try anymore. Too tired, too drained, too timid now.

Somehow this feels worse than being separated. Not trying at all.

Ren's not here.

Martyn builds his own walls, builds his own tower, wraps the tattered scarf around him once more, the Hand frozen in time, sits and stays right where he's been left. Third Life never ended for him.

Ren showed him life, didn't he? Where is he now? Where's the life he promised him?

Martyn dimly remembers Ren sitting himself on fire when he was lonely in Last Life. Back then, Martyn had dropped everything to rush to Ren's aid. Ren's the one inflicting damage on himself, the prince locking himself in his burning tower, and Martyn, ever the firefighter, puts out his flames with a bucket of water.

In that life, Martyn leaped to Ren's defence. How could he not? Logically, Martyn should've left Ren. Stopped his damage from damaging Martyn himself. But Martyn's never been logical about Ren, has he?

Is Ren watching him, this time? Is his king out there, somewhere? Does he care? Does he care at all?

... Martyn reaches for the flint and steel.

3.5

(Someone— it does not matter who— knocks it out of his hand. It kicks Martyn out of his stupor. He blinks. His head hurts. What the heck is he doing there, mooning about a lost king? Why the fuck does he even care, when everyone moved on?

This has gone on for too long. If he can't pull himself up from the abyss, he'll have to go cold turkey. There's no other way. It's for his own good, Martyn convinces himself.

In a violent, swift move, Martyn rips off his scarf. He watches it burn.

... He swears he's only crying from the smoke.)

Martyn moves on. Ren thinks he moved on from Dogwarts and everything, but once he's back on the server, everything comes rushing back to him, as easy as running water.

He misses having a faction to protect. He misses being loyal to his people. He deeply misses his friends. He misses having Martyn by his side. He misses Martyn.

But Martyn's back to being a wanderer, cheerfully involving himself in everyone's business yet not staying with anyone, because he's permanently more selfish now, and nothing's going to stop Martyn once he's fallen off that edge. He's a cannonball, a tornado, a wild card. He's everywhere, but he's nowhere.

Martyn is cunning, devious, sharp as ever, still funny as fuck, but there's a wild look in his eyes now. He's untamed. He doesn't give a shit about anything. He lies. He backstabs. He's a nuisance. Thief. Plunderer. Shit-stirrer. And it's all for the heck of it.

Whatever happened to the loyal knight Ren once knew? Was Martyn always this way? Was Ren the only exception? Or has Limited Life broken him?

Ren still tries, with his kind smiles and elaborate gifts and offers of working with him, but Martyn seems to be avoiding him on purpose. What worked in Third Life doesn't work anymore.

Ren knows he should distance himself considering Martyn doesn't give a shit anymore, but a part of him can't help but look back. Maybe he can change Martyn. Show him life again. Maybe, maybe, just maybe.

("We can be allies again," he offers hopefully. Martyn laughs, and it's such a familiar sound that Ren can't help but perk up, but it's a harsh laugh. Twisted. Warped.

"No thank you," Martyn replies. Ren thinks Martyn's holding back calling him "boss" sarcastically. At least there's a line that he's not crossing.)

Ren knows he should let it go. It hurts, but dragging it only hurts more. Martyn doesn't want him, not even a little bit. His friends convince him. So Ren loyally sticks to his own circle of allies. He tries to forget about the permanent chink in his armour.

But when Ren carelessly steps into a trap, he thinks he hears an achingly familiar voice scream, "Ren! No!"

The world explodes in red and yellow. Fire. Dynamite. It's just like his first death, the one that turned him yellow the first time, the death that eventually led to his beheading, the one that started it all.

Now it ends. Now it all ends.

Ren's bleeding. He's on the ground. He thinks he hears Martyn's voice. That's nice. It's nice even if it's a hallucination. As his consciousness fades, he hears Martyn's voice,

"... If only you were there last time. If only I care about you as much as I did then. But the universe never lets it align, does it? You got over me when I didn't. Now I'm over you when you're not. I’m too early, you’re too late.”

Ren smiles. Oh, he sees through Martyn's facade. He sees it now. His lips part weakly.

"... Liar."

(Martyn's untamed. He doesn't give a shit about anything. He lies. He backstabs. He's a nuisance. Thief. Plunderer. Shit-stirrer. Liar. Liar.)

In response, Ren feels a squeeze on his hand. Comforting. Regretful. Apologizing.

"I don't deserve you. Don't forgive me, Ren."

I always do, Ren thinks. But by that time, he's already gone.

There is a simple rule to the Life series— everyone is doomed from the beginning. No matter who wins.

Ren is doomed. A kind, gentle man can't survive till the end. That's why Ren had to kill himself and let the Red King take over. Is that why Martyn won the season without Ren? Is that how Martyn won, without Ren holding him back, without Ren to guide him?

You either die a hero, or live long enough to be the villain.

Yet, none of it is pointless. The seasons are filled with joy, laughter, genuine connections are formed, and while it can be tragic, it can also be soul-shatteringly beautiful.

It's worth it. It's always worth it.

Once, Ren showed Martyn life. Because all Martyn knew back then was how to survive, not how to live.

But now, Martyn doesn't just want to survive. He wants to thrive. What good is surviving if everyone dies at the end, including his king? What good it is anyway, when Martyn ends up falling and falling again? What good is conquering the world when every tiny bit of it reminds him of Ren?

So when the new season dawns, Martyn decides to throw all of it away. His angst, his inhibitions, his self-pity. Sure, everything goes up in flames anyway, and this fragile world is temporary, but is that any way to live? To live without living, to live without trying at all?

They're all at spawn. Everyone's enthusiastically greeting each other and Martyn does the same, but he's frantically searching for someone, eyes wide. He's waited months and months for this. He can't take it anymore.

And then—

(A familiar chuckle, a flash of brown hair, eyes turning to meet his—)

Martyn remembers the precious vow they made in a parallel universe, under the moonlit sky, blood splattered on the altar, those bygone years and bygone lives, and he runs—

"REN!" Martyn screams like he's never screamed before.

Martyn's hands reach out. He doesn't care if Ren has moved on, doesn't care if Ren doesn't want him anymore. He only cares that Ren is here. Alive. In front of him.

And so he embraces Ren tightly, so very tightly.

"Martyn!" Ren sounds surprised by the intensity. "Dude! I missed you!"

And with those simple words, the shattered pieces of his world start falling into place again. Martyn laughs, a pure, genuine laugh from his heart. Everything's alright now. They can begin again.

"Welcome back, my liege."

#renchanting #rendog #inthelittlewood #treebark #trafficblr #ria.fic #this was meant to be short. like a tumblr post. it's 2k now soo 👍#if you recognise song lyrics. yes. it's probably intentional. i want to live not just survive (not just survive)#might put this on ao3 later #this is originally meant to have a sad ending but i couldn't bear it. renchanting forever and ever [explodes] 🔥🔥🔥🔥

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