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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬 | dark!jim hopper x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | smoking with eddie was supposed to help you relax... instead, it forced you to decide how far you're willing to go to keep your record clean.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dubcon/noncon smut (oral m receiving and creampie), slight innocence kink, significant age gap, semi-public sex, kinda mean hopper, handcuffs, coercion, bargaining, abuse of power, very slight/ambiguous eddie x reader if you squint, thicc pre-season 4 hopper the way god intended, slight angst

Eddie did have a tendency to get a little paranoid during a smoke session— a side effect of the product— but maybe you should’ve listened to him this time.

“Do you hear that?” he hissed as you handed the rolled paper back to him. “Dude, there’s someone out there!"

“Who would be in the woods, this far from town, this late at night?” you rolled your eyes.

Well, the answer to that question is two-fold: stoners, and someone who’s looking for them.

A flashlight suddenly appeared from the trees, and your eyes went wide.

"Shit!" Eddie yelped, jumping up and tossing the joint— even though it was quite too late for that— and starting to run around like a chicken with its head cut off for somewhere to go. But he couldn't exactly hide behind a tree, because this wasn't a cartoon, and getting back in the car wouldn't really get him anywhere.

So, he ended up basically circling the van and slamming directly into Chief Hopper who looked even more pissed than he had when you first spotted him.

"Uh, hey— funny running into you here, Mr. Chief, sir," Eddie joked as you sighed in disappointment and irritation at his idiocy.

"Get back over there, dummy," Hopper groaned as he shoved Eddie aside, tossing the guy into you— you would've both fallen over if you hadn't basically caught him, and your friend looked pretty disoriented by the whole thing.

The chief flicked off his flashlight; it wasn’t actually really necessary, with how bright the moon was tonight, but your eyes had to adjust to the dark all over again.

"Two kids smokin' dope in the woods," Hopper observed. "Munson, this is far from our first conversation— but you—"

He ran his gaze over you as you leaned back against the back of the van, and you felt conflicted about your body's response to his sizing-up.

"I expected better from you."

He reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing Eddie by the elbow and turning him around with an unceremonious thud against the van.

"H-hey, not so rough," Eddie chuckled thinly, "it's my first time."

You rolled your eyes; did he always have to make stupid jokes like that? "It is most certainly not, Munson," Hopper returned firmly. "And I'm sure the judge will take that into account before he goes easy on you again. You might wanna practice that 'not so rough' line again before you end up in jail, kid."

Eddie winced, and not from the tightness of the cuffs. He was finally taking this seriously— finally realizing he was looking at more than community service or a fine this time.

Hopper stepped up to you next, but you didn't put up nearly as much of a fight— and he was more gentle with you, far more… he even seemed to linger for a moment as he held your wrist.

It was incredibly subtle, but it was all it took for you to know you had a chance. A chance you were just desperate enough to take.

"Why?" you asked suddenly, heart already racing.

"Hm?"

"Why did you expect better from me?"

There was a silent moment as Hopper considered that question, and Eddie gave you a confused look.

"I heard you were a good girl," Hopper eventually answered.

You smirked a bit, turning around to face the chief with a feigned look of confidence. "Well, you heard wrong."

"V'never heard of you gettin' in this much trouble before," he replied. "Not with the law, at least."

"That's ‘cause I don't do bad things to get into trouble, sir," you added pointedly, looking up at him and seeing the look in his eyes change a bit. "I do bad things to get out of trouble."

You didn't really notice him getting closer until you felt it— felt that gap close as his body brushed against yours, and fuck he was tall 'cause you had to crane your neck all the way back to keep your eyes on his face (though they did briefly dart down to the badge on his chest).

"You know, I never saw you smoke," he noticed, voice lowering. "Maybe you were just an innocent bystander. You kinda have that look about you— innocent…"

He ran his finger over your jaw, until he was lifting your chin a little too forcefully.

"I like that," he added.

Your stomach dropped, but you couldn't back away— he had you pressed up against the van, every part of you was at his mercy now, even your freedom.

"Don't fucking touch her, pig," Eddie growled.

"Eddie, shut up," you snapped at him, not wanting him to dig the hole any deeper— or blow your chances of getting him out of it.

“Why don’t you get in the van and mind your own business, son,” Hopper encouraged, stepping away from you to hold up the key for Eddie’s cuff’s teasingly. “Think you can do that?”

Eddie sneered at first, looking away. “Ed, please,” you said, a little softer, and he sighed. Hopper approached Eddie, who looked like he was barely containing his rage and disgust, as the chief unlocked his cuffs less than a minute after he’d put them on.

“Old creep…” Eddie muttered under his breath when he was freed, rubbing his wrists nervously, before he looked at you. “Are you seriously gonna—?”

"Eddie," you said sternly. "Get. in. the van."

He groaned but obeyed, walking past you both with a grimace, hopping up in the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him.

"That your boyfriend?" Hopper asked when you were (sort of) alone.

You sighed. "Just a friend," you insisted.

"Hm," he replied, smirking a little. "Bet he wants you."

"What makes you think that?"

"'Cause who wouldn't?" he purred. "Body like this…"

You shivered as his hand ran down your back, slowing down as it slid over the curve of your ass.

"A boy that age would have no idea what to do around a body like yours, honey," Hopper added, humming as he brought his hand back up. "Need a real man to take care of all this."

"Didn't think this was about you taking care of me, Hop," you returned, raising an eyebrow as you looked up at him with his lip between his teeth. "Thought it was about working my way out of these cuffs."

He grinned at you, though it wasn't exactly a friendly smile. "No, baby— the cuffs are staying on."

As he pulled you into him, you felt a firm bulge rub against your hip; you gasped a little, fighting the urge to pull away, and tilted your head back as he leaned down to kiss your neck. "Eddie, too," you whispered. "If we do this, no charges for Eddie."

Hopper grunted disapprovingly, but you looked up with him with your best ‘please, Daddy’ eyes and bit your lip slightly. It wasn't quite enough for him, though. "What's in it for me if I get your friend off?"

"Whatever you want," you blurted out before you really considered what that might entail— you just couldn't let Eddie go to jail.

He purred and grabbed your ass tighter. "You drive a hard bargain, honey. But I can't promise anything until you show me what you can do."

Figuring what that likely meant, you slid down until you were on your knees, keeping your eyes up— on him. It would’ve been harder to keep your balance with your hands behind your back if it weren’t for the van’s bumper right behind you to lean on. “Y’gonna get it out for me?” you asked him expectantly, and he smirked at you a bit as he reached for his belt.

There was something about the way he sighed as he did it, about the way he had to reach under his thick belly to do this, about the way his heavy belt clinked as he opened it… you told yourself this was just about the bargain, but you knew there was more to it than that, on some level.

His cock was only half-hard when he pulled it out of his jeans, but already so thick— you were salivating already, but pretty fucking nervous, too. It was pretty overwhelming to be confronted with what you were about to do in such an obvious way: it all gets a lot more real when there’s a big fucking cock in your face.

Not wanting to make him wait anymore, you leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth, coating it in your spit as you suckled gently… at first.

He hummed a little— you honestly barely heard it— and stiffened a bit more in your mouth. Soon enough, it was so big that you had to keep your jaw open wide to fit it, and soreness was already starting to set in.

When you shut your eyes, it was a little easier; you were a little more confident, and you tightened your hands into fists behind your back to stop them from shaking. Leaning forward more, you took him deeper until his belly bumped against your forehead. Why did that make your thighs clench together?

His fingers combed over your hair, not quite guiding your head yet but certainly encouraging you to go on. "Yeah, fuck, that's good— that's really fucking good, keep sucking, baby…" he mumbled, voice thick and sweet like syrup. The deeper you took him, the more talkative he got; and when you took him all the way to the base, with your nose buried in a patch of curly hair, he moaned louder than ever.

"Shit," he hissed, grabbing the back of your head when you tried to pull away. "N-no, stay down, need to feel that throat a little longer, fuuuuck…"

You fought harder to pull back, getting dizzy as your coughs and sputters did nothing to give you air. Only when tears ran down your cheeks and spots filled your vision did he let go, giving you a chance to break away and gasp for air.

He was chuckling lowly as you coughed, smiling down at you proudly even though you weren't much of a sight right now— face swollen and wet with tears, red eyes (even worse than before), on your knees in the leaves and dirt…

"Stand up," he ordered, and you gave him a confused look as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Huh?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Don't you wanna finish?"

He smiled wider. "That's cute— you were gonna swallow it, too, right? And you thought that would be enough?"

You started to feel particularly stupid as he yanked you up to your feet. There was a long, tense silence as he started touching you again— running his hands slowly over your waist, your neck, your hips…

He started to slowly push your shirt up, but his eyes stayed trained on your face; you must have looked, for once, as nervous as you felt.

He hummed a little as he got your shirt high enough and tugged your bra down; your nipples hardened right away from the chilly breeze, and he toyed with them for a second with his thumbs before groping your chest more confidently with his whole hands— god, they were big, and strong, just like the rest of him.

After unbuttoning your jeans for you, he turned you around quickly and pressed himself against your backside with a purr, slipping a hand down the front of your pants and into your panties. “Mm,” he emphasized, cupping you and holding you tightly; still cuffed, the position made your hands grab onto his thighs through his pants.

He groaned as his fingers slid between your lips, and you let out a quiet whimper of your own.

"Oh, fuck— look how wet you are, sweetie," he cooed beside your ear, starting to rub circles around your clit a bit too roughly. "You like sucking cock in the woods? Or is it the cuffs?"

You only whimpered a little as he held you tighter.

"Or," he continued, speaking even closer to your ear until his mustache tickled your skin, "is it whoring yourself for a man twice your age? Is that what gets you off, honey?"

He didn't wait too long for you to answer— he must've known you weren't going to— before he pulled his hand out of your pants and yanked the denim down. You felt cold and weird and stupid with your bare ass out in the woods; you swallowed down a lump in your throat when you heard Hop shoving his pants lower, too. "Do you have a condom?" you asked shakily.

"You think I bring condoms on patrol? What kind of cop do you think I am?"

My pants are around my thighs, Hop, I don't think you're exactly clean…

"No, baby, we don't need one anyways," he decided, rubbing his head around your flexing hole with a sigh. "God, it's so wet…"

That was his last warning, if you can call it that, before pushing inside; and you accidentally grabbed onto his shirt when your fingers made fists, the sting of pain making your toes curl inside your shoes, too. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t be too loud, though… you remembered, for a second, that Eddie would hear if you weren’t careful. That made guilt churn your stomach even more than the Chief’s hand coming down to spank your ass all of a sudden.

“Damn, s’tight,” he chuckled darkly, groaning as he picked up his pace and held your hips steady. “Sweet fuckin’ pussy… y’like it, sweetie, y’like being fucked?”

Swallowing, you nodded. “Y-yeah,” you panted softly.

“Louder, honey.”

“Yeah, I like it,” you replied, a little more confident but not exactly ready to shout it out, either. “Feels good…"

"Bet you wanna cream all over me, huh, baby?"

Well, that would certainly make this more enjoyable— but you didn't need to, really; the pain of the stretch had finally faded and honestly, you were surprised it happened so quickly. With how thick he was, you were prepared to struggle longer, but if anything your body was giving in, encouraging him, making your back arch deeper and your walls pulse whenever he filled you to the brim.

His hands reached around to cup your tits, and he moaned louder as he felt you up while he fucked you. When his fingers tweaked your nipples— not too hard, but still a startle— you tensed up inside; and he noticed. “Oh, they’re sensitive, hm? Sweet girl…”

Of course, he just did it repeatedly, and more aggressively, until your legs were shaking and you let out a pathetic whine. “Chief, c’mon…” you pleaded nervously.

“Chief? Don’t need to be so formal, honey,” he laughed, leaning in a little closer. “Just call me Jim, okay?”

You really didn’t wanna do that, and you were having a hard time getting much of anything out now anyways: he’d started fucking you harder, deeper, a lot faster… your head was spinning. At first you’d really just wanted to get this over with, but right now, you never wanted it to stop. It was so difficult to keep your thoughts straight, you almost told him that, before noticing what a stupid thing that would be to say—

“Fuck, are you close?” he taunted.

“Don’t stop!” you blurted out. “Please don’t stop, fuck…”

He chuckled proudly, and yep, it was just as stupid a thing to say as you thought it would be; he sounded way too cocky now, and even the way he moved his hips seemed to be more… gloating, than before, if that’s possible. “Little slut,” he spat, though the insult sounded just as much like a compliment.

“Fuck,” you whispered again.

“I get it, y’know— you’re young and you need a little rebellion,” he said, and in your current state it really didn’t make any sense. “But reefer’s not worth the trouble. Why don’t you just let me fuck you when you’re feeling naughty?”

Right now, that didn’t seem like too bad of an idea; you already got the sense this may not be the last time this happened, even if he didn’t catch you smoking pot again. That feeling was already swelling up inside you, and your throat was dry from breathing heavily— and nearly sore from moaning, even though you’d been trying to fight it. Your eyes kept rolling back in your head even when they were shut, which they usually were until he brushed your hair aside with his hand and told you to look back at him.

And damn, he was a sight: that look in his eyes was unforgettable, the strain on his face as he drove himself into you over and over. The curve of his cock stretched you in a way you’d never really felt before, his grip on you was so aggressive and his pace was overwhelming. He was right, it turns out, when he said that thing before about Eddie and how you needed a ‘real man’ instead. You protested to that term, but compared to guys your age, this was entirely different— and better. And supremely fucked up. And the best dirty deal you’d ever made.

“I-I’m close,” you finally admitted.

“I know,” he mumbled, “go ahead, baby— just come for me.”

It was the way he said it that shook you so much, unexpectedly gentle after so much gruff mocking; it still took you a few more minutes, but you ended up obeying his command pretty easily.

He felt it when you came, groaning through a smile and praising you in a low voice. You could even hear it, the sticky sound as your cunt soaked him, and he snarled as he looked down at it— he grabbed your ass and pulled it out of the way so he could watch his cock fill your hole. “God, that’s perfect,” he announced, “you’re so fucking cute.”

Not really the adjective I was expecting after I came on your dick, but I guess I’ll take it.

“Wanna make you do it again,” he admitted, making you swallow nervously, “but we don’t have much more time… and I’m so goddamn close, fuck, you’re just so tight, honey…”

You whimpered and bit your lip, your post-orgasm haze working overtime to keep your shame at bay— but the clarity was due any second now, and it was hard to ignore who this was when he kept moaning louder and louder, sighing your name, touching you and running his hand down your back and promising to fill you with his load—

Wait, he’s gonna do what?

"Pull out," you whimpered. "Fuck— pull out…"

He only held on tighter to your hips, driving into you deeper as his head fell back in a grunt.

"Hop, pull out!" you yelped, only for a thick, clammy hand to cover your mouth as he bent down behind you— his forehead rested on the back of your shoulder, each hot breath fanning over your skin.

"God, sorry, I'm sorry," he panted, "need this— fuck, so good…"

You struggled harder, but all your strength was useless compared to him holding you there, keeping you exactly how he wanted you.

"Ah, fuck— you don't need to fight it, baby, s'gonna be so good… your pussy's milking me, c'mon, it's what she wants— she wants to be filled up, I can tell. You want it, baby? You want me to come? Fuck I'm so close…"

He grunted a few more times before he suddenly stopped— his hips pressed forward until he couldn’t go possibly any deeper, then even just a little more after that; he held you tight as a tear ran down over his hand on your face. Relaxing with a heavy exhale, his grip loosened on you slightly but you were far too weak to fight it now, so you just stayed there: bent over, still crying slightly, with a panting and heavy man just behind you (and inside you) catching his breath.

“Fuck,” he said again, pulling out quickly and letting you go; you didn’t realize how weak your legs were until you had to hold onto the van to stay up, awkwardly lowering your bare, sore bottom onto the small lip of the back bumper so you wouldn’t just fall to the ground.

You were pretty out of it for a minute; the smell of cigarette smoke brought you back to reality, and you looked at Hopper, having a smoke as he looked out into the woods. He caught you staring, and raised an eyebrow. “Y’want one?” he offered, and you nodded.

Fishing the pack out of his pocket, he shook out a cigarette for you, holding it for you to lean forward and capture with your lips. After lighting it for you, he watched you take a long drag and sigh.

“I’ll take you out of the cuffs in a minute,” he promised, but you’d already kind of forgotten about them.

He did, though; help you out of them, that is, and you were able to get your clothes back in order on your own after that. You wondered if you should say something, or if he should. What was there to say? Thanks for the bribe? Nice cock? Pleasure doing business with you?

So, he didn’t say anything, and neither did you. Until just as he was starting to walk away, and you noticed his flashlight had fallen from his belt onto the ground.

“Wait,” you said, leaning down to grab it, and when you stood up to hand it back to him, you saw something strange in his expression. You wondered, for a second, if he’d been hoping for more when you said that. “You dropped this.”

He took the flashlight and nodded at you. “Thanks,” he said, and you took the last drag of your lended cigarette as you nodded; watching him leave, you dropped the butt to the ground and snuffed it out with your shoe.

For some reason, you waited a little longer after he left to get back in the van’s passenger side. Eddie didn’t look at you when you got in, and you didn’t say anything; he just started the van silently and began the drive back to the trailer park. You were halfway there when you decided you should let him know, “you’re not going to jail.”

“I know,” he replied.

#jim hopper x reader #hopper x reader #jim hopper smut #dark!hopper smut #jim hopper dark fic #stranger things reader insert #stranger things smut

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

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Sorry, Not Sorry!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 947

Summary: Bucky does something bad and you get mad (ha that rhymed :)

Author’s Note: So my lovely 💕Nat @blackwidownat2814 shared this hilarious tik tok with me HERE and we both thought it was something Bucky would do so here we are with this fun. Thank you so much my sweet and for helping me work out the whole scenario! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you! 🥰

Warnings: fun fluff, silliness, curses, playfulness, Bucky’s a dope but it’s all good :)

GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @quantum-widow thank you lovely🥰

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BUCKY!” you shout as you stomp past him and toward the bedroom. “You know those are my favorite and I really need some right now!”

He’s hot on your heels, his soft apologies already flowing past his lips.

“Baby doll, I’m sorry! Don’t be mad.”

When you step into the bedroom you grab the door and slam it shut and lock it.

“Doll…”

He shakes and turns the knob several times before his head thuds against the door.

“You locked me out,” he says woefully.

“You deserve it,” you answer, crossing your arms in a huff and sitting on the bed.

“Please open the door doll face,” he asks.

“No.”

You hear the shuffle of his receding footsteps and let out a long exhale, your shoulders slumping as you mutter under your breath.

Just as you start to get comfy you hear the sliding and shifting of paper and a movement at the door catches your eye.

A white sheet of paper appears from under the small space at the bottom of the door.

“I’m sorry, can I come in?” is scrawled across it in Bucky’s handwriting.

“No,” you huff, falling backwards on the bed.

More crinkling and folding.

You sit up with a roll of your eyes, his long fingers pushing the next piece of paper under the door and holding it against the bottom of the frame.

“Pretty Please!!!”

“No way Buck!”

Before he can try to pull the newest note away, Alpine’s white paws slide under the door and start to grab at it, flicking it this way and that before he sinks his claws in and tries to rip it back his way.

You can’t stop your giggle.

More frenzied crinkling and shuffling of paper.

“I heard that! Come on doll, let me in!”

The newest note appears and your smile turns into a frown.

“No. But Alpine can come in!” you answer.

As if on cue Alpine’s white paws slip back under the bottom of the door and start to knead the paper.

“Come on buddy,” you coo. “I know you can fit under!”

You see his pink nose next but as quickly as it appears it’s gone when Bucky carefully pulls him away.

“HEY!” you shout.

Another note.

“I can’t believe you won’t let me in doll :(“

“Yea well, I can’t believe you finished off my cookies without even leaving me ONE! You’re not coming in!”

Bucky’s metal fingers slip under the door to feel around for the paper and the thin rays of sunlight that dance across the floor brighten them, especially the gold band that’s wrapped around his ring finger.

He gets a hold of the paper and pulls it back to his side.

“I said let me in! ><”

“Not happenin’ Buck. And gimme the cat!”

Alpine meows and you see his paws again as they scratch at the rug with a stretch.

The last piece of paper slides under.

You let out a horrified gasp.

On it is drawn a hand with a very long middle finger sticking straight up.

In your renewed anger you frantically search for an object, any object and the first thing you see is your stuffed white wolf on the bed.

You take it and throw it hard at the door.

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BARNES! Now you’re never coming in!”

Silence.

You walk over and pick up your wolf, cuddling it to your chest.

“I can’t believe him!” You mumble into the fluffy stuffed animal. “How rude!”

When you hear the jingle of the doorknob and some loud banging your eyebrows draw inward and you cock your head to listen.

“What the….? Bucky?”

There’s more clanking and noisy shifting before the door pops off the hinges to reveal a smirking Bucky.

He stalks toward you with purpose, pulling the wolf from your hands and dropping him on the bed.

“That was easy,” he grins.

“You’re an asshole!” you sniff. “You gave your wife the middle finger!”

“You give it to me all the time,” he retorts, taking a step closer.

“Well…that’s different!” you huff, clenching your fists at your sides.

“How?” he asks, slowly backing you toward the wall.

“It just is Buck!”

You widen your eyes and push out your bottom lip.

“Aw baby doll,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your mouth as his thumb softly brushes over your lip. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you all the cookies you want forever!”

“And promise to never eat them all again!” you say, sticking your finger into his chest.

“Promise,” he smiles. “As long as you promise never to give me the finger again!”

“Never gonna happen,” you admit.

“I don’t know about those cookies then….”

“BUCKY!!!” you whine, trying to hide your smile. “You are the worst husband ever! First you eat all my cookies…then you basically tell me to fuck off! UGH!”

“You mean the best husband ever!” he counters, closing the distance between you and lining his body up with yours.

“Worst,” you sing, lifting your chin defiantly.

“Best,” he answers back, taking your chin between his metal fingers and bringing your eyes level with his.

“You don’t have a leg to stand on Barnes! You know I’m right,” you tell him as you slide your palms up his chest.

“Best,” he repeats, lifting his flesh hand to cradle your face and bring it closer to his.

“Not if you don’t get me my cookies,” you whisper, grabbing the chain of his dog tags.

His nose skims your cheek before his lips lightly brush against yours.

“Best ever…” is the last thing he says before his lips steal any other words you have.

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @goldylions @seitmai @peaches1958 @lookiamtrying @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @randomfandompenguin @rebel-stardust @loki-laufeyson-1054 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #tik tok

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yuurivoice · 1 day

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I've been posting about it everywhere but Tumblr is going to get a quick n dirty review of Challengers aka the horny Zendaya tennis movie for those who might have only seen a trailer or memes.

What a goddamn masterpiece.

I expected it to be wild, but wasn't familiar anyone involved's game. Also didn't realize the soundtrack was a Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross production. Made sense when the credits rolled.

It was bold with its story structure in a perfect "you have to know the rules to break them" way, where you clearly get the way it bounces back and forth in time, with the distance between past and present getting shorter and shorter in a way that the climactic final set of the tennis match mirrors. Not only is it not cumbersome, the timing adds to the impact of events as they unfold. Wonderful work.

The exploration of a world-class athlete who is driven by the singular purpose of greatness is thrilling and heartbreaking.

It's extremely queer and, in particular, the energy between the two male leads in this uncertain rivalry / totally just bromance feels embarrassingly authentic. It mirrored some of my real experiences in ways that nothing really has before. Not always in comfortable or happy ways, but ways that felt familiar all the same.

You couldn't have forced me to watch a tennis flick without the wild unhinged energy they show in the trailer and it's so much more than that. I had several laugh out loud, throw my hands up in shock, stifled gasp type of moments. All genuine and earned.

Also, Zendaya has always been dope, but this was my "oh she can ACT act" moment. Girl wasn't fucking around. I hope this opens many other people's eyes, and she gets some roles that let her stretch her legs even more.

If you were on the fence, or worried it was set up to be a giant meme...nah man. It's fucking cinema. Top 10 all time for me. Will be watching in theater again.

#challengers #spoilers #not really spoilers but just to be safe

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carminecherry · 7 months

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inked | kazutora hanemiya

this is PART TWO of the series PUT A COLLAR ON YOUR PET

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART TWO LENGTH: 6k words

⇝ PART TWO WARNINGS: fem reader, heavy nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; angst, teasing, power play, tattooing sub!kazutora, confession, Y/N and kazu are both switches, dom!kazutora, possessive!kazutora, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, licking bug bites, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, safe sex, penetrative sex, orgasm denial, biting

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's smutty, hot, and heavy, enjoy 😘

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

When you got to the shop today you talked to your boss. His enthusiastic approval for Kazu’s neck tattoo didn’t make you as excited as it might have otherwise. Something about last night wasn’t sitting right with you.

The way he had lingered at your door, an unfamiliar look in his eye. Knowing you’d see him again so soon had that flurry of emotion stirring in your chest. Maybe that’s why the message sat unsent as you picked at your lunch.

“I got the go ahead, when do you wanna do this?”

You reread the short message for the nth time, your lip long since tender from anxious nibbling. You lock your phone and put your head in your hands. Before you could spiral, your boss, Rei, pops his head around the corner, “Hey newbie.” You sit bolt upright.

“At ease, soldier. I’ve gotta head out early today, how do you feel about locking up the shop by yourself tonight? You can stay and practice, just clean up before you head out.” “Oh… Yeah, sure, that’d be great!” “And if your friend wants to come in for the neck piece, you can stay as late as you need.” He says with a wink. Damn.

“Dope… Thanks, Rei.” He tosses you the keys with a jingle. You swipe them out of the air. “Have a good day, boss.” With a salute he turns and exits the shop. You sat there, alone in the not yet familiar space. It’s now or never. You finally hit send on the message.

His response is immediate,

“ASAP! When is the earliest you can do it?”

“Today if you have time”

“Fuck yeah it’s on! Is it cool if I come after work?”

You hesitate before confirming,

“If you have nothing better to do, playboy. I’m in the studio all night”

He reacts to the message and you lock your phone, taking a deep, steadying breath. Your phone buzzes with a string of messages from Kazu. You open them and see a chain of tattoo inspiration pics. They’re done in a kind of tribal style.

From your buzzed conversation last night, you remember he wants a tiger in that style. You crack your knuckles and get to work, sketching up a design on your ipad. You’re immersed in your drawing when you feel a puff of air against your ear, “Boo.”

You jump, to Kazu’s delight. “You should lock the door if you’re in here alone, anyone could come in.” “I- When-” You look and see it’s grown dark outside. He laughs, pacing around, sizing up the space.

“Just now, you seriously didn’t hear me come in?” Your silence is answer enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss you little liability.” He says with a wink. “That looks perfect, by the way.” He gestures to the device in your hand.

“Oh, thanks, um I’m almost done if you wanna- '' He plops down on one of the worn leather couches. “... make yourself comfortable…” He flips through the TV channels before settling on one for background noise, a horror flick. You return to your work, adding the final touches.

When the credits are rolling on the TV, you finally stretch in your chair, drawing his attention. “How’s this look?” You turn the screen to him. His eyes sparkle. “It’s… It’s perfect! God, I knew it had to be you.” The compliment and sincerity in his voice had your heart acting up.

“Of course, I’m basically a genius.” You say dismissively. “So you said neck piece but what size are we talking?” You roll your chair over to him, wheels squeaking. “Like around here.” He palms the space on the side of his neck, bringing it down slightly to his chest.

“Oh… So, like, huge?” “Gotta keep it on brand.” You scoff at his innuendo. Let me add some more for the chest. You turn your attention back to the screen, adding some swirls to the edges that would extend the tattoo. He watches over your shoulder, occasionally humming with approval. The theme music of another horror film plays on the TV. “Okay, how’s this?” He gives two thumbs up and a toothy smile. “Ok, I’m gonna print it.”

You look up and meet his golden eyes. “Say, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” “Nope, you’ll be my first.” He says with joking seduction. He’s on your turf here. A streak of confidence flashes through you with the realization; the power balance is shifting in your favor.

“Oh~ I don’t know if you’ll be able to take it. The neck is very sensitive” You tease back. “If it’s just about endurance, I’ve never had any complaints.” His body leaning towards you. “No shame in tapping out, tickle boy.” You match his lean “That’s not a thing, you just play dirty.” He shoots back in a low voice. “That’s not all I do.”

The air in the shop turns heavy with your comment and the two of you simmer there. His eyes have a dark look. Your face feels warm. You clear your throat and rise. “Ok… Printing.” You tap across your screen as you walk to lock the shop door, flipping the sign to closed.

“Ohhh~ after hours, what an honor.” He says in a saccharine voice. “You don’t know how many other guys would kill to get an after hours session with me, don’t you feel lucky?” His taunt from last night turned back on him.

There is a fire behind his eyes and you avert your gaze quickly as the printer buzzes out the stencil, the distant screams and tense music from the TV washing away into the background. You swipe it up, the transfer paper still warm between your fingertips.

You take your time cutting out your design, hoping the extra moment may diffuse the tension in the air as your senses come back; you have tiptoed the edge of that boundary again. With a final snip you make your way over to him, he’s reclined in the plush sofa, legs spread in a confident, imposing way. His eyes trace your every move but you can’t meet them.

“So… For the placement… Since it goes down so low… It’s probably easiest if you take off your-” You don’t even finish the sentence before he peels off his shirt, placing it on the arm of the sofa as he looms over you. “Shirt… If you’re comfortable…” You look away, an effort to spare yourself from his relentless teasing.

He has a lean, muscular frame. Ghosts of scars littered on the defined planes of his chest and abs. “Like what you see?” His voice drips with honey. “Shut up and sit down.” You say, fully not facing him. He laughs knowing he’s gotten under your skin.

That swirling anxiety clenches in your chest. He plops back down on the sofa with a chuckle, spreading his arms across the back, giving you a full view. “Sit up, I’m gonna sanitize your skin.” You huff. “Oh! And sign this.”

You shuffle around some papers on your workspace and produce a consent form. Slotting it into a clipboard and thrusting it in his direction. He flips through the pages halfheartidly as you pull on some latex gloves. There’s the scratching of the pen on paper as he signs the form.

You grab the disinfectant and some wipes and finally face him. He catches your eyes as you do, a devilish grin on his face. “Let’s do this.” You pour some of the disinfectant on the wipe and get to work cleaning his skin. With a sharp inhale he says, “Fuck, that’s cold!”

“This is gonna be a long night.” You mumble. You laser focus on the space on the side of his neck, how the muscles and tendons flex under your touch, visualizing the tattoo there. You wipe down to his collarbone, trailing across the hollow space there before moving lower to his chest.

His silence is uncharacteristic but you welcome it, getting lost in your work. When you’re satisfied you withdraw the wipe and use your hand to fan the space you’ve cleaned. “Let’s let it dry for a second.” You turn around to grab the stencil and when you return you catch the final ghost of a blush leaving his cheeks. You choose to categorically ignore it.

“I’m gonna place the stencil, so try to hold still.” You hover over him, lining up the paper. Silence hangs in the air as you bring the top of the stencil paper to his neck, working in slow, firm strokes to lay the paper nicely.

You can feel the heat of his neck bleeding through the paper as you stroke lower to his collar, his chest. Your hand lingers, you can feel the flutter of his pulse. When it’s laid with no crinkles, you give a few more firm sweeps across the whole thing, bringing out a sharpie to mark the final stencil placement.

“Alright, let's see.” You peel the paper back and admire your work. The weeks of practice you’ve put in at the shop have paid off. “Take a look, do you want to adjust any parts?” He makes his way to the mirror across the shop. He twists and admires the stencil. You can’t help it when your eyes scan the muscular back, flexed, the one you felt last night. “Perfect…” He says softly.

“Let’s get into it then.” You say with a clap. Turning away from him before he notices you staring. You gesture behind a nearby privacy screen to your station’s tattoo bed and he reclines on the papered surface with a crinkle. You set up your ink, vaseline, and tattoo gun among other paraphernalia. He watches you attentively as you do. You grab the bottle of black ink and portion some out. “Ready?” “Ready.”

“Ok, so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” “What? Like a safe word?” “Sure, if you want one, tickle boy.” You can’t control the teasing tone in your voice. His nose scrunches in distaste at the nickname. “Hmm how about strawberry.” He relishes the word.

You cringe at the memory, an inside joke. A night spent over imbibing on strawberry vodka with the gang. A night that ended with you kicking off a two month sobriety stint after the violent vomiting and epic hangover that ensued.

“Strawberry it is.” You confirm, gagging on the word. “So, it’s gonna suck for like five minutes but after that… Well I might be weird, but for me it starts to kinda feel good.” “Yeah, that’s what makes you weird.” “Ha ha, he’s got jokes.” Your tattoo gun buzzes to life in your hand. “Here we go.” You swipe some of the vaseline over the spot you’re sizing up as the starting point.

Your gloved finger glides across the skin, the vaseline slick and warming quickly. He locks eyes with you and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The little shit looked excited for this, total masochist. You bring the needle down, feeling a small pushback as it breaks the skin. He inhales sharply and groans. “Jesus fuck!”

“I know.” You say in a low, comforting voice. You continue, the gun hammering the ink into the sensitive skin of his neck. His eyes close and he bites his lip. “You ok?” He nods in response. You do a wipe to clear some of the blood and excess ink. His hand finds your leg over the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the fleshy part of your thigh. “Fuck” he exhales.

“Dude we’ve barely started, you sure you can handle this?” You tried to sound comforting but you can't help the smug taunt from seeping into your voice. It’s wrong, you know that, but something about this felt so good. A kind of revenge for the torment he’s put you through over the years, finally being the one in control.

“I’m going to start again.” You say in a low voice. He nods. You continue the line over the milky column of his neck, the skin around where you’d just tattooed turning a pretty red. His hand kneads the skin of your leg.

If it were anyone else you would’ve pried their hand off in seconds. But his touch… Felt warm. Familiar. You continue like this until the outline is done. Small noises occasionally bitten back by the man beside you. The hours pass by in a flash.

***

The buzzing stops and you place the gun down on your station cart, stretching. “Let’s take a quick break.” “Oh~ and you were worried about my endurance.” His words come out, slurring together pleasantly. That tattoo adrenaline high that you are good friends with. He must be feeling it after sitting so patiently through those first few hours.

You rip off some paper towels and do a dry wipe. He gasps, a little whine escaping at the end. His hand shoots up to grab your wrist, halting your movement. You freeze, face hot. His breathing comes in heavy puffs. With effort he opens his eyes, meeting yours.

His pupils are blown so wide they devour the pretty gold of his irises. He looks you up and down in a hungry way, bare chest rising with each breath. You try to ignore the way the rosy buds on his chest rise have grown hard and perky. “Ha- you weren’t kidding. It does start to feel good, really good after the first few minutes.”

His smile is feral, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. “G-good. That’s, uh, that's good.” He pushes his torso up from the tattoo bed, the paper crinkling underneath him. You can’t help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as it enters your peripheral vision. He tugs your arm, your stool rocketing towards him.

“Kazu-!” “Hmm~ You like this, don’t you, you sick little freak. You get off on this, huh.” “What the fuck are you talking about?! Kazu, let me go!” “You act like I can’t see you, see the way you look at me, do you think I’m stupid?!” “Time out, Time out.”

You feel a flash of anger, panic, taking your usual defensive stance. “God, come ON, when are you gonna get it?!” His grip tightens on your wrist. “Jesus! Strawberry!” You yelp. With a grunt, he releases your wrist. You shoot back in your chair, clattering into the cabinet behind you.

“Oh my~ Y/N, are you… scared?” He says with a glint in his eye. You feel yourself flush, “You’re seriously acting fucking weird, Kazu… More than usual. If you don’t feel well we can stop here for today.” You spit out venomously. “Why do you do that? Run away from me…”

His eyes widened in a strange way as he hops off the bed. “Is it cause you like to make me chase you?” You rise as well, squaring your shoulders, head spinning with the shift in energy, your eyes feel glossy with the prickle of angry tears. “Seriously, shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me off, for real.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re pissed off. You’re even cuter when you cry.” He says towering over you. You give a firm push to his chest to make space between the two of you. “God! Back UP! You’re such a dick Kazu! Why are you acting like this?” You hate that your vision blurs with unspilled tears. “There they are~” He swipes a hand up, thumb wiping one of the tears that threatens to overflow your lashes. You slap his hand away but he brings your tear to his lips, licking the digit slowly. The knot in your stomach tightens further.

“Come on, Y/N, this little dance is getting old. Why won’t you just admit it? You want me, just say it.” You feel that nauseating twist of emotion in your chest, arrogant ass. You want to swing, to cuss him out, but you feel yourselves balancing on the ledge between safe and new again.

Instead you ask, “What… Are you saying, Kazu?” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You’ve been dreading this. He sighs, leaning his head back with a curt laugh. “You were always slow to notice things, huh.” He says to the ceiling. “Such a sadist under that cute facade…”

He takes a step back, giving you some breathing room. “Now don’t get me wrong, I do love the chase, but after so long… I can’t understand why you’re still running…” “... Kazu… You… Uh, we…” You let out a frustrated sound. “It’s just… I’m not gonna be another notch in your belt… Another name on your list of fair maidens… What we have is special… I don’t want to lose you… as a friend.” The words pour out reluctantly. Choppy after being bitten back so many times.

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Maybe I really need to spell it out for you. I’m serious about this, us.” You feel your face heat anew with his sudden confession. “Frankly, I don’t know how I could make it any more obvious to you. That I want you, I need you. I’ve wanted you all to myself for years.” “You sure have a funny way of showing it, fucking anything that bats their eyelashes at you.” You feel tears threaten to spill.

“Baby, I have needs… It’s awful, but I meant it. Those other girls didn’t mean anything to me. But you… This-” He gestures to the completed outline of his tattoo, “It’s a piece of you, I’ll get to have it with me forever. Sorry for tricking you into putting a collar on me. I wasn’t sure how else to get such a selfish owner to claim their pet.” His mouth ticks into a smile, like he’s told some inside joke with himself.

“I’m sick of waiting… God, don’t just stand there.” He averts his gaze from you, blush dusting his cheeks. “Kazu… I… If this is some sick joke I’ll never forgive you.” “Joke?!” He leans in dramatically. “What other motherfucker is out there making me blush?! I feel SICK.” He snaps back.

“I… Kazu, if you know, if you can read me so clearly, don’t make me be the first to say it… Just-” He’s over you in seconds. His lips parting yours in a feverish kiss. You don't hold back, meeting him there, lips, hands, teeth. You are careful not to touch your masterpiece on the side of his neck, running a hand through his hair and another up the exposed skin of the toned muscles of his core. One of his hands is tangled in the hair at the back of your head, adding pressure to the kiss.

He moans into your mouth, “fuck my neck, it hurts… It… feels really good.” This sparks something in you, leaning into the kiss with more passion. You nip his lip and then smooth the irritated flesh with a firm swipe of your tongue before returning to the kiss. He groans at the action, pressing you up onto the counter of the cabinet, grinding against you. You feel the bulge in his pants against your stomach. So hot that the warmth seeps through the layers of fabric between you.

He’s brought a hand down to play with the hem of your shirt, the light touches tickle. The two of you break your kiss, gasping for air. He chuckles, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” “Yeah… That was… amazing.” You look up at his hazy eyes, thick heavy lashes, that perfect beauty mark. You crane your neck and place a soft kiss there, the intrusive thought that's haunted you for years finally fulfilled.

The air is heavy, like the space around you was holding its breath. You move first, locking your mouth on the other side of his neck where the skin is unmarred. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive skin, giving a nip and sucking gently on the skin. “Fuck, you’re gonna mark me there too? I never pegged you as the possessive type. Letting me run around all these years.” His voice is low and lazy. You hum into his neck feeling the bulge against your stomach twitch.

“And the jealous type.” You add, before moving lower and repeating the process, crimson blooming on the skin of his neck as you nip and suck and bite your way down his collar bone. “That feels so fucking good baby.” He grabs you by the waist and lifts you, maneuvering you back to your tattoo bed, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits. He takes advantage of the new position to tug you firmly by the hair, exposing your neck to him. “My turn” he says, licking a hot line up your jugular.

He kisses down the side of your neck. “Mmm yeah, Kazu.” He sucks gently before his teeth graze your skin, the pressure building with a wet, slurping noise. You groan, it hurts in a delicious way that makes your stomach flip. “Mmmore, more Kazu.” You whine. “So needy.” He says into the throbbing spot before moving lower, making a twin bruise there, pulling your head back further, the skin taut. “Nnng” “Yeah babe, fuck.”

He goes lower, eyes locking on the small circle of raised skin, slightly pink from irritation and itching. He licks the bug bite, making you yelp. “Fuck, thats.” He licks again, the spot warming, the sensation is strange. Tingly, itchy. He starts to suck, “O-oh my go- that’s-” It feels strange but not bad, like scratching an itch too hard where it hurts in the most satisfying way.

You feel that knot again in your stomach, wetness spreading between your legs. You lower yourself in his lap, grinding into him. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you. “You like that? Little freak.” “You’re one- to talk- you’re the one sucking-” his hand releases your hair, bringing both to your hips, grinding into you hard. “Ah- ha- fuck babe you’re so hard.” You say breathily.

“Mmm yeah, that’s your fault.” He says into your chest. He drags you down again, you feel the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably wet. “Kazu… Please I…” “Say it, say what you want baby, it’s done.” “Kazu… I want you.” “Mmm finally.” He flips you easily, laying you on the tattoo bed with a harsh crinkle of the paper. He pins you there, eyes devouring your flushed face and he pretty marks he’s left on your neck. Your hand comes up to absently play with his earring. It jingles between your fingers.

“You're so… Pretty, Kazu.” “Yeah?” He tugs your shirt up, over your head, letting it gather by your wrists, using it to pin you there with one hand. “You’re so, god. You’re so beautiful Y/N. I mean it. You don’t know how long you made me wait.” He trails a finger up your side, a featherlight touch that makes you squirm. “Hmm, ticklish, Y/N?” He asks, mimicking your voice from last night. “Dick” You laugh. He traces the edge of your bra, making your breath hitch.

He continues, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You adjust yourself, wriggling under his grip, offering a better view of your chest. “So eager Y/N.” “So slow, Kazu.” your mouth ticks up in a challenging smile. When he sees it his own smile turns animalistic.

He rips the undergarment up roughly, your chest bouncing free as he forces it up to join your shirt around your wrists. He eyes your chest hungrily before using his free hand to palm one of your breasts, massaging it. The flesh spilling out in the space between his fingers. He drops his head to lick around the sensitive flesh of the other.

He presses a knee between your legs, knocking them apart harshly to give himself space. You welcome it, finally having something to apply pressure where you really want it. You grind up and down his leg building the feeling there. He gives a hard flat lick over the sensitive bud on your chest before sucking, grazing his teeth along the puckered skin. “Oh fuck, Kazu, that feels so good!”

You toss your head back, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling growing. Your body feels heavy and fuzzy, a pleasant buzz in your head. He releases your abused nipple with a pop, the skin pink and glistening with his saliva. He gives a soft blow, savoring the view of the bud pebbling in the cold air.

He grinds his knee into you, earning him a breathy whine. “Kazu, please. I want you.” “Hmm? You made me wait so long I plan to make it last.” “Ha- nng- and I’m the sadist?” He releases your breast and trails a hand down your stomach, toying with the button of your pants. You grind up his leg, encouraging him to continue. “Patience, you vicious little thing.” He chides.

He pops the button of your pants open with one hand and drags the zipper down painfully slowly. He pulls the waist of your pants down, the task proving to be difficult one handed. You raise your hips to help him shimmy them down your thighs. “Fuck” He releases your wrists to pull your pants all the way off, tossing them to the floor. You start to sit up before he shoves you back down by your wrists, situating himself between your legs again.

“Now, where were we?” “Well, I was falling asleep while you took your sweet time undressing me.” “Oh, well that won’t do. Let’s wake you up, shall we?” He trails his free hand up your thigh, squeezing the fleshy part at the top, humming with approval. He traces his thumb against the edge of your panties, dragging down a glistening trail of your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, babe.” He swipes his thumb up again, gathering some of your juices as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the digit. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah? You like it, sicko?” “Mmm, love it. Let me taste you, pretty girl.” He slides down the tattoo bed, dragging you with him. He spreads your legs apart, hooking them over his shoulders. You take this chance to free yourself from the clothing around your wrist, snapping off the latex gloves in the process.

He runs a finger up and down your slit through the fabric of your drenched panties. “Fuck” He pulls the garment to the side watching you twitch and flutter being exposed to the cool air of the studio. He brings his head down, lapping up the wetness between your legs.

You can’t hold back the moan that comes out with the sensation, tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “Mmm babe you taste even better than I expected.” He says from between your legs. You can’t string together a coherent sentence. Between the teasing and his skilled tongue circling your clit, you feel yourself tumbling towards release.

“Ah- Kazu- ha- I’m-” The words come out high and breathy as you feel like you’ve been dipped in honey, your limbs heavy and warm. Right as you’re at the brink of your orgasm his movements slow. You let out a frustrated whine. You swear you can feel him smiling there, between your legs.

“Wha- Why?” “Hmm? Is something the matter?” He teases. “You’re… insufferable.” You pant. “Am I?” He challenges, bringing a finger up to your hole, testing the water there. Your breath hitches as he pushes it deeper, his long fingers curling in a tantalizing way.

He licks the sensitive bundle of nerves again, swirling his tongue. You feel the sensation building again. “Kazu, please, I want you.” You whine. “I know you do, pretty girl. I’m getting you ready, just relax.” “How can I relax when you’re-” He adds another finger and you feel the stretch before a third is inserted. You moan, grinding into him, fucking yourself on his face and fingers.

You feel the tension rising again, your breathing getting heavier, the knot in your stomach about to snap. As you feel the sensation swelling, fuzziness crawling over your skin, he removes his fingers, leaving you so empty. You choke on a frustrated cry as you feel tears prickle in your eyes, having been denied twice.

“Kazu, please, I’m so close. Let me come.” “Eager as ever, darling.” You hear the tearing of something not-quite paper. You peel your eyes open, looking down at him. A small, square wrapper reflects the light in a metallic way, dangling from his mouth. The sound of a zipper directs your eyes down to his pants. He lets the clothing drop to his thighs. There is a prominent wet spot spreading through the fabric of his underwear beneath. You can see his size through the thin material. It is formidable.

You eat up the view, his flexed abdomen, the defined lines low on his stomach that disappear beneath his waistband, his blown out pupils, his flushed face, the hickeys you left him on one side of his neck, and the tattoo outline on the other. You feel a deep throb inside of you.

“Kazu, baby, you look so good.” He leans over you, brushing his lips to yours, “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot.” You taste yourself on his lips as you draw him in to deepen the kiss. He pulls back, an hungry look in his eye. He makes a show of pulling his waistband down, freeing himself from the restraints of the undergarment. Your eyes widen.

Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating all of those times he’s bragged about his ‘big dick energy.’ “Think you can take it, princess?” He goads with a lazy smile. He gives himself a few firm strokes before rolling the condom over his sizable member. “Think you can actually make me come this time?” You quip back. He steals a quick peck from that bratty mouth that he loves.

“Mmm, this time, and the next time, and the next time.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to your jaw then your throat and your chest. He positions himself over you, “so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” He imitates your voice, repeating your earlier statement back to you. “Shut up and fuck me.” You say breathily, taking a firm grip of his silky hair and pulling him into a feverish kiss.

He moans into the kiss as you nip at his lower lip. You feel his tip, prodding at your entrance. You grind down on it, urging him to continue. You feel that delicious stretch as you adjust to his size. It’s been far too long since your last time and he is huge. His ministrations earlier had done little to prepare you for his actual size.

He moves slowly, working with you as you grind up to meet him. You can’t fight back the little noises bubbling up in your throat any more. Small whines and whimpers. “Fuck, good girl, let me hear you.” You moan louder as you feel your walls stretching to take him.

You can feel it, the tip pushing against your cervix, making your breath hitch. He pauses there. A string of praise and profanities spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna move.” He pants. He props himself up over your face, looking deeply into your eyes. He’s slow, so excruciatingly slow. You feel like he could split you open. Your face twists in pain and pleasure.

He peppers your cheeks and forehead with light kisses, a jumble of, “good girl, you’re taking me so well, you’re so tight, fuck, babe you feel so good, you’re gorgeous.” Are whispered with every kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl.” He says, staring at the space where the two of you are joined. Your hazy eyes drift there too. To the swollen, sensitive spot that is sucking him in. You’ve almost taken all of him.

“Y/N, I…” He bucks unconsciously. You gasp sharply. “I can’t… It feels so good.” He groans, bucking again, so close to being buried inside of you. You whine, completely stuffed. He moves, shallow ruts, picking up speed. “Fuck, Kazu, you’re so deep, you’re- it’s so big.” You whimper. You flutter around him, making his movement stutter. He continues with fervor. He’s so deep, with each thrust you feel him brushing past that spot that makes your toes curl before pressing into your cervix.

He adjusts his position, bringing your legs up to hook over his shoulders, folding you in half. He grabs the edge of the tattoo bed, gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white. You cry out as he buries himself even deeper. Your cry melts into a moan as the rush of pleasure spreads from the pain.

You can hardly see him through the blur in your eyes. You feel yourself unraveling as he fucks freely into you in this new position. Each stroke is more intense than the last. Lewd, wet noises spill from your puffy entrance with each thrust. You feel it coming, huge and intense. Your arms and legs are blanketed in tingles, your head is light and dizzy, release hurtling towards you.

“Uhhng, Kazu, don’t stop, I’m gonna.” He grunts, snapping his hips into you, fucking you down into the crinkled paper of the tattoo bed. He brings a hand down, grabbing one of your breasts, bullying your nipple with a harsh pinch. The sensation is too much. You cry out, clenching around him, vision going white as your release washes over you. A slurry of curses and affection pour from you as the waves of pleasure wrack your body. He continues his deep, cruel thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out of you.

You flutter and clench around him, a whimper then laugh leaves the man over you. “Y/N, You’re sucking me in, you want me so bad, huh, baby? Fuck, I’m gonna come, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me come.” He mutters, his thrusts becoming frantic, your bruised cervix opening, swallowing him deep inside of you.

“Oh, FUCK!” With one final, brutal thrust he’s pouring himself into you. He latches onto your collar bone, biting hard. You yelp, feeling the sting of his teeth breaking the skin and his tongue swirling.

He moans, grinding into you, riding out his own release. Stuffing the condom full of his seed inside of you. Fucking into your womb. His grip on the tattoo bed loosens, as he lays himself over you. Lazily thrusting. He snakes his arms around you, embracing you as he grinds the last of his cum into you.

You bring a hand up to play with his fluffy hair as he slackens his jaw, planting sloppy, wet kisses over the bite mark. Your chests rise with heavy breaths, reveling in your shared releases. Your limbs feel like lead and your head is still fuzzy. Every nerve in your body is shot, tingling pleasantly.

“That was so much better than I could’ve imagined.” He hums. “Yeah… That was… Worth the wait.” You say, burying your face into the crook of his neck opposite his tattoo. “I think that’s enough of a break.” You laugh as he kisses your temple. “Mmm, yeah, let’s finish this up.” He gestures vaguely to the outline of his tattoo.

“I’ve got some big plans for the night.” He says in a low voice, pulling out from you as you quiver around the emptiness, missing him. “I should probably finish what I’ve started this time, and the next time, and the next time.” You tease him with his earlier flirtations, earning you a playful jostle. You reach absently over the edge of the tattoo bed, feeling around for your discarded garments.

“This is gonna be a long night.” He laughs, passing you your clothing as he grabs some paper towels from your station. cleaning himself up. “Promise?” You joke, masking a deeper desire. The animalistic way he smiles at you is answer enough.

#Kazutora Hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora smut #kazutora x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr smut #tr x you #carminecherry fics

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atiny-piratequeen · 4 months

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𝓝𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

𓆩⟡𓆪Summary:

When two rival kingdoms send their men to you to ask for your hand in marriage to bridge the gap between kingdoms, you have a quite...unique way of getting everyone to cum together.

Errr, come together.

Nah, it was right the first time.

𓆩⟡𓆪Pairing: Lee Juyeon (The Boyz) x Fem! Reader x Jeong Yunho (Ateez)

𓆩⟡𓆪Genres/Aus: Non-Idolverse, Royal AU, Hybrids (Snow Leopard, Netherlands Dwarf Rabbit, and African Wild Dog, Respectively), Smut, Poly Endgame

𓆩⟡𓆪Tws: Swearing, Insults

𓆩⟡𓆪Sws: Consensual Chase Kink, Pred/Prey Undertones, Size Difference (Reader is smaller than the boys. And if you aren't irl, guess what? You are now. Live your smol dreams babes), Teasing, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Breast Play, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Cum Swallowing, Marking, Riding, Anal (mxm), hints of Scent Kinks, Stomach Bulge, Slicking, mentions of ruts/heats

𓆩⟡𓆪Rating: Explicit/Mature (18+)

𓆩⟡𓆪WC: 3.7k

𓆩⟡𓆪A/n: Im a damn day late but here is my Secret Santa '23 entry for @cultofdionysusnet for, ironically, my darling Jasper (@starlitmark)

I was already like WOAH when I got you as my receiver but I think its pretty dope you also were my secret Santa *wheeze* I hope you like it, even if it's late.

𓆩⟡𓆪AO3| Taglist Form (Please make sure your urls are updated and able to actually be tagged) | Commission Sheet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪Network Ping- @kwritersworld | @kdiarynet | @k-vanity | @cultofdionysusnet𓆩⟡𓆪

𓆩⟡𓆪©atiny-piratequeen. do not repost, translate, or use my works𓆩⟡𓆪

“You and I will not be seeing eye to eye on this. I arrived first, I asked for her hand first, and I will not bow down to some… dog .”

An audible growl filled the room, a reverb as the man across the way’s lip finally curled up.

“I’ve listened to you hiss and spit nonsense at me for half an hour, if you’d like to do more than that, I’d be more than happy to entertain that, but if all you intend on doing is make cheap shot swipes at me, it's obvious who it is she should choose to take her hand.”

You sit with your ankles crossed, your hands in your lap, watching the two men bicker at one another.

The first man is Juyeon, sent from the land of Lucid Dream. It was a place born of ice and snow, it seemed fitting that their Crown Prince was a snow leopard, his speckled tail twitching in agitation as he glared down his much bigger rival.

This being Yunho, an African wild dog sent from the kingdom of Eternal Sunshine, who stood taller than Juyeon, stared him down with an unimpressed stare, his ears, also spotted, flicking to and fro as he made steadfast eye contact with the two of them.

“Milady, I don’t think this one is going well. I don’t know how the meetings got mixed up like this-probably Donghyuck again-but I can escort them out immediately if you would like to. Before things get too…rowdy?” your consultant whispers beside you, eyes flicking back and forth between the two apex hybrids.

You hum, your nose twitching slightly.

They both smelled quite nice. How very coy of their respective Kingdoms to send hopefuls to you that were bordering on their respective ruts.

A smile crosses your face, you stand, and in an instant, both men pause in their arguing, eyes fixed on you.

“Lucid Dream and Eternal Sunshine, long have you two been at odds with one another, no? If my recollection of history goes, your two kingdoms have been in a bitter, decades-long spat with one another, right?” You step down from your post, your hand soft and delicate within your consult’s hand as he assists you.

“Milady-”

“I will be fine, Xiaojun. Tell Mark and Donghyuck to go prepare for me. It won’t take long, I made my decision.”

Xiaojun looked at your small form, pursing his lips in concern. Leaving you, a rabbit, in a room with a wild dog and a snow leopard seemed to be the LAST thing he wanted to do, but a simple quirk of your brow settled any unsaid complaints he had and he merely sighed and nodded, making his way out of the room.

The sound of your heels against the grand marble floors echoes as you make your way to the two of them, without a doubt picking up on the competing pheromones rolling off of them both in waves.

They straighten their backs, looking at you with a noticeably gentler look.

“It will take them some time to prepare my room, I imagine.”

Neither men said anything, though you can see their tails stand still, their ears perked.

The corner of your lips tilt slightly, how cute.

“The two of you can prove yourselves to me in a different way. If my kingdom is to be the bridge, we will do things my way.” you speak slowly, removing your heels and setting them aside. The two men stare, blinking slowly and curiously while you make your way to the door, a smile tugging at your lips as you feel their gaze on your smaller form.

“Let’s see who’s faster.”

You toss the door open, darting down the hall in a flash, and laughing to yourself as you count the seconds it takes before there is an eruption of noise and movement behind you.

You’re grateful for Xiaojun knowing where you were going with your untold portion of your orders to him, as the halls are relatively empty. Any servants mulling about were on alert and the moment they see you rushing down the hall, jovial and full of energy, they press themselves to the wall, keeping themselves there as two blurs rush by moments later.

“Stupid dog, move! She’s mine!” Juyeon rushed by, his eyes narrowed as he followed the scent down the hall. Yunho growled, his legs long and swift, making sure Juyeon did not overtake him in speed.

He wouldn’t lose. Failure was not an option. If the Princess wanted her soon-to-be betrothed to win in a challenge of speed-and if it came down to it, strength-he wouldn’t back down.

Especially not to a trash-talking feline from their rival kingdom.

Yunho narrowed his eyes, the scent made a sharp turn, but it was faint.

Instead, the scent had subtle stronger traces to the right. He turned, rushing down that way while Juyeon continued down the main hall.

The feline’s tail twitched when he saw him break off, but he ignored it, keeping his eyes focused on the hall he was running down.

You were…beautiful. He’d been sent with a mission in mind and he intended to follow through, to have your hand, but the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he’d be the one to sweep you off your feet.

He’ll be damned if they lost to a clumsy dog from that place .

Juyeon swore when he found the hall was a dead end. A window was open, a silken curtain blowing in the wind. Out of it, was an avian, clearly some form of messenger, carrying a torn piece of the dress you had worn before him.

He’d been duped.

“FUCK!”

Yunho had better luck, finding you rushing through the halls while wearing a robe you’d taken from a passing servant. He let out a bark of excitement, the thrum of the chase overriding his senses as he barreled down the hall.

The decorative pins and chains on his outfit jingled and chimed as he got closer to you and you smile to yourself, slipping into a room and tucking yourself into a laundry chute, sticking your tongue out at the large dog as he stuck his head through the opening, eyes wide with excitement as you slide from view.

“Gonna have to try harder than that~” You tease, skipping as you step out from the other side.

Behavior unbecoming of a queen? Possibly. But if you were to tie your life to someone, why shouldn’t you have fun? If they couldn’t do this much, how can they expect to bring your kingdoms closer?

You dust yourself off, your ears twitching ever so slightly before you look around the laundry room. It was deathly quiet inside and you feel yourself freeze.

Someone is inside. Watching.

You don’t move anything but your head, locking eyes with something reflective and gold in the dark room.

The moment you do, it lunges at you, and it took a moment longer than you expected to force your brain to catch up to speed. In those moments, you feel your clothes being grabbed, and you stumble, nearly colliding with a wall when a strong arm wraps around your waist, lifting you with ease.

“Well, that was a pretty neat little trick you did there, my beloved. But it seems I’ve caught you. What do I win?” Juyeon inquired, and you can smell his scent thick in your nose, his heartbeat pounding against his chest and your back.

You smile and turn to him, your own heartbeat thundering loud as you place a kiss to his nose.

“Another round.” You smile and slip from his grip, shrinking your arms as close to your body as you can and sliding the robe you had taken from a servant off, rushing out of the room as Juyeon swore behind you.

The hall isn’t far from your room. You figure everything is ready and if the boys couldn’t catch you by the time the door closed, your little game was over and you’d win.

Did you want to? Probably not, but it was still fun.

A crash sounds from behind you, and you hear two sets of footsteps approaching, the hall flooded with pheromones.

“Move, dog!”

“Like hell, cat. Back off!”

You glance over your shoulder and find both of the men right on your heels.

“Lady Y/N!” They call to you at the same time, and it takes a moment for you to get your bearings, your nose twitching ever so slightly. You sniff, the smell of their combined scents flooding your senses.

Aren’t they too close?

You squeak in surprise as both of them stumble over each other, tripping and falling onto you in a heap. The air leaves your lungs and a startled yelp fell from your lips, in an instant, both of them are picking you up, panic clearly set into their features.

You feel a familiar heat settle in your core, and you realize the repetitious sound in your ears is your own heartbeat. You smile at the two men, and no doubt by now they can smell your arousal.

“Are you okay?” Juyeon inquired, his fiery disposition from before gone as he gently cupped your face, his hand warm to the touch. Yunho checked you over visually, eyes rolling over your body, looking for bruises or worse, blood.

Instead, he’s met with your flushed gaze, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“Looks like you both got me.”

The two men exchange a look with one another before looking back at you.

“Technically, I caught you first.” Juyeon interjected. Yunho narrowed his gaze at him before sighing.

“I’ll leave, I just want to make sure you both didn’t get hurt when I fell on you.”

You take his hand and Juyeon’s, a spark in your eyes as both of them look at you curiously.

“Lady Y/N?”

“If you boys don’t mind, let’s try one more thing. I’m sure that will settle this once and for all.”

They exchange a look with one another and nod slowly, curiosity making both of their respective tails sway to and fro.

-x-

“My, you two are quite pent up mm?” You let out a faux pout, a cock in each hand as you stroke slowly. There’s a wicked glint in your eye as you look up at the two, delighted by the way they both seemed adamant on holding back and not ‘crumbling’ before the other.

Poor things, they still think this an either-or situation.

Your ears twitch ever so slightly, picking up every sharp gasp and low groan from the two of them as you stroke faster, twisting one hand while you gently squeezed with the other.

“M-Milady-” Juyeon grit out, biting his lip so hard you could see small indents from his fangs. Yunho wasn’t much better, letting out unintelligible pants and growls, seemingly trying to keep himself from actually speaking so he didn’t make a fool of himself.

“It’s fine, Juyeon. You already won. Both of you have.”

Both of them sober slightly, looking at one another with a competitive spark before jolting when you bring your lips down, breath fanning over the head of their cocks as you run your tongue over them.

“Let’s get along well, okay~?”

The two buckle, scent thickening with arousal when they finally pick up on your own heat as you shift below them.

They’d stirred something inside of you, it’s only right for them to take responsibility for it.

“A-as if I’d get along well w-with someone like him.” Yunho grit out, his cock throbbing in your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue. Juyeon hissed at him, turning his head sharply.

“F-feeling’s mutual. I doubt a stupid ass dog could pleasure her, anyway .” He grit out. Yunho’s eyes blazed with the challenge and you roll your eyes below them, giving both of their cocks a squeeze. They buck and jolt, their attention landing back on you.

“Play nice.” You warn, pressing their cocks together, dragging your tongue over their slits, keening at the mixed taste. “It’d be a shame if I didn’t get to taste more because you two can’t behave.” You sigh softly, letting your tongue roll over Yunho’s cock, then Juyeon’s, and back again.

The two go quiet. Or, rather, as quiet as they could get as the occasional moan and keen roll from their lips, their rivalry temporarily placated by your actions.

They were handsome, of course. No Kingdom in their right mind would send you someone less than average, but they looked better like this, faces flushed, panting, fingers flexing as they tried to keep their hands off of you.

“That’s better.” You sit up, caressing their balls and smiling, your scent thick and sweet. Both of them unconsciously lean towards you, and you open yourself to them, perking so your breasts are spilling from the top of your dress.

An invitation, that’s what it is.

They took it for what it was, cupping and groping one breast each as you raise your head higher.

“I d-didn’t expect this nn…today,” Yunho growled, his cock throbbing in your small hand as he ran his lips over the sweet glands on the left side of your neck.

Juyeon grunted in agreement, his tongue flicking out, dragging over your throat. The barbs at the center were soft, and you find yourself clenching on nothing as they kiss their way lower, greedy lips finding your nipples.

You gasp and close your eyes, rolling their balls in your hand, trembling in their grip as you feel them running their hands down your body as they alternate between kisses to your chest and small, marking nibbles and bites.

Juyeon’s hand found its way to your folds first, chuckling airdly as he rubbed slowly. You yip and clench on nothing, your hands stopping momentarily.

“Ah, don’t you want us to bond, Bun? Don’t stop just because he’s touching you.” Yunho growled, sucking a spot into your breast you were sure wouldn’t fade easily after tonight. You narrow your eyes at him in challenge, but they flutter the moment Juyeon pinches and rolls your clit, his breath fanning over your ear.

“You’re already so wet. Did it feel nice giving us the run-around. Leaving such a sweet scent for us to follow, it’s only right we pay you back in kind.” He growled, lifting his fingers and spreading them apart, showing you-and Yunho-the slick covering them.

Your lips tremble as you look up at them, your head swirling in need as you watch Juyeon offer his messy fingers to Yunho.

He stared, eyes narrowing in need for a moment before he sucked them into his mouth, fangs grazing Juyeon’s fingers before he pulled back, a deep growl pulling from his chest as he turned to you.

“C’mere. Let’s get you comfortable.”

His definition of ‘comfortable’ was splaying you out with your legs spread in their laps, both of them kissing and biting at your necks as you squirming as you let them both stretch you, your slick making a mess of your ass, their hands, and their thighs below.

“I-I’m ready!” You cry, arching high and clenching on their fingers, mouth falling open as one of them curls their finger up to brush against your gspot. Your cries are met with deep chuckles and a kiss from each of them as they slow only long enough for you to catch your breath.

“Are you sure?” Yunho teases, his lips against your ear before he bites.

Your eyes widen and you find yourself squirting as you jolt, a yip leaving your lips. Both men let out amused keens, holding you so you wouldn’t fall as the sudden shockwave rolls through you.

“So pretty~” Juyeon purred, pulling his fingers free, smiling like the cat that ate the canary as he ran his tongue over his fingers, licking them clean as you pant, trying to catch your breath.

There’s a wet smacking sound above your head and you find yourself squished between the men. One glance across from yourself to the mirror they’d propped you up in front of and you found out why.

Yunho had his hand fisted in Juyeon’s hair, pulling him in for a demanding kiss, chasing your taste on his tongue. The sight made you keen, and you cup their necks, running your fingers over their glands, smiling as they both shuddered.

“It looks like you two are getting along just fine now, mm?” You purr.

They part, panting as they stare each other down.

“Yeah,” Juyeon mewled, his tail twitching and jerking in interest behind him.

“I think we’ll get along just fine.” Yunho licked his lip and moved to grab you by the hips, picking you clean up.

“Come, I think we’ve held back for too long. I’m aching.”

You find it exciting how easily the two of them can move you at will. Strong, yet gentle hands positioned so you were straddling Yunho, staring down hungrily at his cock as Juyeon held his cock up.

Your plan was simply to tease, but as you watch the two eye you hungrily, then eye each other with the same gaze, you realize maybe this was going to work a lot better than your playful mind had anticipated.

Taking Yunho was a task in itself. Even with your slick, you were grateful Juyeon paused to coat the bigger hybrid’s cock in lube provided by your consultants (you’d thank Xiaojun, Mark, and Donghyuck later).

“T-Tight-” Yunho growled, his canines pronounced the more he lost his composure, his hands gripping your hips tight. You cling to his hands, body shaking as Juyeon cooed sweet nothings to you, reaching to rub your clit and the base of your tail.

“A-Ahn- fuck-” You swear, eyes closing as Juyeon’s feline purrs override your mind.

“That’s it. Such a good wife you’re going to be for us. Open your eyes, Princess. You’re bulging.” He growled, cupping your jaw. You gasp and look down, eyes widening as you see the tell-tale bulge in your stomach.

Had…had he grown bigger while he was inside of you?

The very thought made you gush on his cock, your hands falling to Yunho’s chest as you bounce on your own accord, eager to feel him deeper inside.

“S-Shit- Y/N-” He swears, hands tightening on your hips as you ride him, your hips and ass slapping against his thighs. Juyeon watches, mesmerized as you swallow Yunho’s cock, your slick leaving a lewd, shiny trail on his cock that dribbled down to his balls.

“C-Come…come here.” Your voice startled the snow leopard back into focus and he glanced up, pupils dilating as you open your mouth, tongue out for him.

“G-Gimme.” You demand, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, standing up and cupping the back of your head. He doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth and be a gentleman, to urge you to go slow before you dive down, eagerly bobbing your head until you feel him touch the back of your throat.

They both smelled so good, thick and hot and it made you crave more, especially hearing both of them moan and gasp your name. Yunho thrust his hips up, bouncing you in his laps and he would have probably knocked you off balance, had it not have been for the iron-clad grip your thighs had on his frame and his hands had on your hips.

Juyeon kept himself anchored by cupping your head, and rubbing the base of your ears. He found your throat tightening at the motion and smiled wickedly.

“Is that n-nice? Having your cute little ears rubbed while we claim your pussy and your throat?” He panted, hissing through his teeth as he watched you turn your teary, pleasure-struck gaze up to him, drooling as his cock pressed deep into your throat.

“I c-can’t keep holding it back.” Yunho gritted, eyes flickering back and forth between your mouth and your pussy, both stuffed in such a lewd manner.

You clench around him, a subtle sign you didn’t want him to, and thankfully both of them took the sign for what it was, fucking you and your throat with a mismatched tempo that eventually synched up.

Every fiber of your body felt like it was alight with pleasure, and stars exploded behind your lids as you finally felt them flood your mouth and pussy. You feel delighted as you feel the mess between your legs, only sealed inside by Yunho’s cock (which still throbbed, almost as if he wanted to unload more into your tightness). Juyeon pulled you out of your musing when he pulled out of your mouth, panting like a beast as he looked down upon your kiss-swollen and saliva-covered lips.

“That’s our good girl. Are you alright?” Yunho murmured, petting your head. You lick your lips, taking a moment to gather your barings before pressing into his hand, smiling.

“You two don’t think we’re done, do you?” You inquire after catching your breath. They exchange a look of surprise with one another before quickly recovering and grinning.

-x-

Minutes turned to hours, and positions changed. From you eagerly arching your back, nuzzling Yunho’s cock and teasing it with kisses as Juyeon takes you from behind to you biting marks into his ass while Yunho thrusts into him, keeping his cheeks spread with a devious giggle as his fiery voice melted into airy, near shy whimpers. Or the way Yunho trembled and groaned as you bite marks into his thighs while he greedily curled his tongue deep inside of Juyeon, reaching around to stroke him and milk another orgasm from the spent feline.

By the time the three of you are actually satiated, you lay in a pile of noodle-like limbs, dazed and happy as you gather your bearings.

“I think,” Juyeon panted, running a hand through his sweaty locks.

“-this is the start to a wonderful union.” Yunho finished, nosing both you and Juyeon’s hair, clearly close to dozing. You blink.

“...oh, right, the kingdom thing.” You yawn despite both of them laughing. You motion for them to follow you to your private bath, cum dribbling down your legs.

“C’mon, my sweets. We need all the rest we can get if we are to continue our… negotiations tomorrow, yes?” You wink at them over your shoulder, smiling as they appear at your side in a flash, heading deeper into the bathroom before closing the door with a click.

“Right, negotiations. I’m sure that’s what we can call it.”

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Taglist

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - -୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

@kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @angel0taiyo @gettin-a-lil-hanse @jacksons-goddess-gaia @violetwinters @skmoonchild @seomisaho @drunk-on-hwa @soluvcore @twistedsiren @shymexican

#fie writes #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #codn santa 23 #juyeon smut #yunho smut #juyeon x reader #yunho x reader #kpop smut #ateez smut #the boyz smut #kpop crossover smut #im so sorry its late aaaaa #ill add it to the other masterlist later I'm tired lol #k-vanity

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featherandferns · 11 months

Text

'shut up' (fic)

300 followers special! thank you!!!!

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

a fascinating new thing spin-off celebration fic for 300 followers (per this and this request haha)

content warning: drinking; anxiety

word count: 3k.

Blurb: it's been a month since the moment on the hammock. JJ calls you 'baby' like it's the most natural thing. But some things have been left unsaid. Maybe one night, at Pansy's, where things seemingly started, one of you will kick up the nerves...

Ironic, how the first time you played at The Wreck you actively avoided JJ Maybank’s gaze. Now you seek it out. Whenever you feel the stage-fright creep up on you like a spider stalking in the night, you dart your eyes across the small but ever-growing crowd and find your boyfriend. He watches you like you’re some star-studded bigshot. Like you’re Beyoncé or something, holding the stage and audience in your palm. It does something to your stomach, still, after the month the two of you have been officially together. You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to having JJ look at you that way, so clearly and unapologetic. If you’ll ever get used to having the knowledge that he knows the songs are about him.

So, as you sing the closing lyrics to the final song of the set, you can’t seem to break away from his gaze. You know your friends will tease you both about it later, and that whilst you’ll shrivel up under the light-hearted scrutiny like a prune, JJ will grin and bask in the attention. The two of you seem to equal out the scales.

“Suddenly, everything is easy. I’ve never felt something so deeply. Cause with you, with you, I breathe again. Baby you’re my oxygen.”

When you and Pansy harmonise for the fade-out, you finally pull your focus from JJ’s smiling face. Instead, you smile at your bandmate and best friend. Bob your head along to the steady beat of the drums as the song ties off to a close.

The crowd breaks into applause. Cheers and whoops and hollers triumphing over claps that make you laugh into the microphone.

“Thank you,” you grin.

There it is again. Your eyes falling onto JJ and his on you; opposite sides of the magnet, attracting. He nods at you, proud, and you feel your grin turn mushy, teeth sinking into your lower lip in a failing attempt to restrain it. Damn him.

“Thanks for being a great crowd, guys! We’re The Wallflowers! Buy our shit!” Pansy shouts gleefully.

Routine as always: the lights flick on, the microphones disconnect, the Reggae playlist kicks up, and the crowd tumbles into conversation, pours over their drinks, perhaps filter out the doors. The Pogues wander up to the stage as Mike shrugs off his bass and Pansy her guitar.

“You guys were dope,” John B grins from below the small stage.

“Like always,” Pansy winks at him.

“I’m liking the new stuff,” Kiara smiles at you.

“Thanks! I’m trying to mix things up a bit more,” you say.

JJ’s holding out his hand for you to take. You use his help to jump down from the stage, standing by his side. Try your best not to retreat when he leans down to kiss you in front of everyone. It’s not that you don’t want him to you; it just still feels somewhat surreal that he wants to, and does so, freely.

“We still hanging out at yours, Pansy?” John B wonders.

“Mhm. Empty house kids,” she grins. “Sides, we need to celebrate our new drummer who did a fucking awesome job tonight.”

As if on cue, Xander wanders across the stage from where they’d been hiding behind the drumkit. They grin down at everyone, their brow piercing catching the light of the restaurant and twinkling.

“You’re already killing it,” Kiara says.

“Yeah, way better than the last guy,” JJ adds.

You elbow him. The look that you flash him, however, tells him that you’re not mad.

Benny had quit the band not long after you and JJ became a thing. Things were already messy from the fight at the fair and the tone was forever changed. It was obvious that yourself and Pansy were honouree Pogues now and that if Benny couldn’t pull his head from out of his ass (Pansy’s words, not yours) then there’s no room for him in the band anymore. The two of you had talked about what went down. It was awkward and uncomfortable and painful, to look at someone who you once saw as an irreplaceable friend and now only recognise as a decent drummer. Benny confessed that staying in the band with you, knowing he couldn’t be with you, would be too painful. You refused to let yourself feel guilty. You wouldn’t change how things went down and selfishly, if it meant you got to keep your friends and JJ in your life, then Benny would have to slip through the cracks.

JJ’s arm slinging over your shoulder, tugging you closer to his chest, has you tuning back into the conversation again. You wrap an arm gently around his waist. His tee shirt smells of salt water and cheap cologne. It’s so wonderfully him that you have to keep from burying in it. It’s strange how a few months ago you’d almost come to peace with the fact that you’d maybe journey through life alone romantically, with nothing but good friends and music to accompany you, and now here you are, fitting so well under JJ’s hold that it’s like you were made to be there.

“So once she’s finished up there, her and a few of her friends are gonna come over. If that’s cool with you, Pansy,” Mike finishes saying. By ‘she’, he means his now official girlfriend, Tara.

“Of course! The more the merrier!”

You smile at your little group of friends. Slightly misfitting and far from what you’d expect, but perfect, nonetheless. Pansy and JJ’s effervescent energies; Kiara and Mike both laid back and argumentative at the same time; Xander’s stories that allotted perfectly with Pope’s; John B flitting in and out of conversations seamlessly, like a school of fish leisurely navigating through a sea of kelp and coral. And you, surrounded by so much love you don’t really know what to do with it.

“Ready to go, baby?”

Baby. JJ started calling you that a week after the moment on the hammock. You liked it, being someone’s baby. Being his baby.

“Mhm,” you smile up at him.

With that, you filter out the restaurant. You’d already agreed with Kiara’s dad that you’d tidy up the band stuff tomorrow morning, before opening. This was your fourth time playing there, so it was a well-made routine by now. Walking towards the cars, Kie steals you away to have you ride with herself, Pansy and Xander in the pick-up. The boys pile into the Twinkie and Mike has to duck his head hopelessly as he clambers in. Oh to be six-foot six. The conversation that comes between the four of you is light and easy, with anecdotes about school being tossed around like a volleyball on the beach. By the time you pull up to Pansy’s house, your chest aches from laughing. The guys pull up just moments later in the twinkie as you climb out the pick-up.

“You guys giving my girl laughing gas or something? She’s grinning like a mad man,” JJ hollers as he jumps out the van.

“Just finally in the presence of someone who’s funny, is all,” Pansy jabs. Your friends ‘ooh’ in return.

JJ takes your hand and the lot of you climb up the stairs to Pansy’s house. There’s an unspoken agreement to hang out near the pool. People swipe up some beer and liquor and mixers on the way. Pansy connects to the speaker and you all relax into seats and loungers. Conversations carry from the cars to the garden like driftwood on the tide. JJ practically pulls you down to sit in his lap. An arm coils around your waist comfortingly.

“This okay, baby?” he murmurs into your ear.

Your skin prickles pleasantly. Baby.

“Mhm,” you nod, looking at him. He presses a kiss against your lips, fast and fleeting.

Then the two of you are accepting red solo-cups filled with beer and smiling into the chatter. JJ gets tangled up in some heated debate, leaning forward and energetically arguing his case through a grin. His arm tightens its hold on you, though never painfully so, whenever he does. For the most part, you’re content in listening along. Nodding and laughing. Whispering jokes into JJ’s ear that you don’t quite have the nerve to toss into the group, and basking in the laughter it draws from him.

When Tara does show up, ‘a few of her friends’ ends up being nearly ten people. They’re all nice enough, smiley with drinks in hand, but they’re also all buzzed and way more extroverted than you will ever be. The pitch of the conversation rises by about three notches. It’s harder to follow along with a conversation and harder still to sit in your blissful observation position on JJ’s lap. It seems Tara’s friends are hellbent on ‘including you’ in the conversation, but their way of doing so involves grilling you with questions. They’re not rude or invasive, but you don’t like being under so many eyes, waiting on what you have to say when you don’t really have much to say at all. Instinctively, you start drawing shapes on the back of JJ’s hand that’s resting on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, pulling your attention to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure? Think you’re painting a Mozart on my hand there.”

“You mean Monet,” you say.

JJ rolls his eyes. Presses a kiss to your cheek. “Smart ass.”

There’s a roaring round of laughter. You sigh and try to ease the tension that’s forming in the back of your throat. It’s so dumb. These are your friends. You’ve met Tara before and she’s lovely. A little intimidating in a could-be-a-bikini-model-six-foot-four-long-perfect-hair way, but still lovely. Her friends aren’t mean Kooks. They’re all pretty chill. They seem to be meshing well with the rest of the Pogues, too. You catch Kiara’s eyes as you scan the conversation. She frowns the moment she lays eyes on you.

‘You okay?’ she mouths.

You nod. You don’t want to be a party pooper. Everyone’s having fun, including JJ.

He squeezes your thigh, grabbing your attention once more.

“Come on,” he says, moving to stand up. You frown but shift onto your feet, with JJ in tow.

“What’s up?”

“We’re going inside for a sec,” he tells you, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I’m fine. Really.”

JJ looks down at you. Whilst his expression doesn’t exactly change, you get this feeling that his thoughts are ‘yeah, right.’

“Well, I wanna check out this Kook mansion and I need a tour guide,” he replies.

You smile at that, despite your efforts not to. Hands interlocked, you follow JJ out of the small gathering and into the kitchen. Flush like you’re on fire at the wolf-whistle John B sends your way when you do. In both your and JJ’s spare hands are your solo cups, half full of beer. There’s a pleasant hum to your thoughts, giving everything a colourful edge almost.

“You’ve been here before, remember,” you say to him as he guides you both through the empty house. It’s almost insulting that three people live here, at most.

“Well, I spent most of it in the bathroom so—”

“Oh! Really?”

He grins down at you and you laugh.

“Wow!”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to spend it in the bathroom!”

“Mhm,” you grin, rolling your eyes. The two of you make your way up the stairs. Automatic lights flick on as you do.

“I’d rather spend the night sat with some cute Powerpuff girl than hang out with the loser Kooks downstairs,” JJ says. That has you flustered. You squeeze his hand.

“Shut up.”

“You did it again.”

“Shut up!”

JJ imitates you, shrivelling up under the compliment, and you laugh and swat at his arm. His lifelong mission to make you accept a compliment is one month in and currently unsuccessful. As you guys wander down the seemingly never-ending corridor, you remember something you and Pansy did once. With that thought, you take the lead, pulling JJ behind you as you guide the two of you into one of the may spare bedrooms. It smells a little musty, though nothing like a museum. It’s fresh must: like worn-down reed diffusers and fresh cotton that never got tainted. On the bed lies tons of winter clothes as if someone was halfway through clearing out a wardrobe.

“Where are you taking me?” JJ asks, humour light in his voice.

“To my secret spot.”

“Ooh.”

“Ooh,” you echo teasingly, flashing a smile at him over your shoulder.

Handing your cup to JJ, you pull the window open and glance out, checking you have the right room. There’s the extension’s roof, underneath, solid as a rock. Smiling, you gesture your head for him to follow and then you’re climbing onto the roof. JJ chuckles a little.

“Didn’t know I was dating spiderman, but okay.”

“You can’t tell anyone my secret identity,” you joke in reply.

You’re watching where you’re placing your feet, checking your balance. Holding out your hand for your beer, JJ passes over the cup then grunts as he clambers out to join you. The two of you settle on the roof top. It’s a starry night tonight. The universe seems as though it may stretch on for miles. Countless sparkles of light illuminate above you, basking in the absence of light pollution.

“Woah.”

“I know, right?” you smile.

JJ grins up at the sky, captured in awe. It’s adorable how boyish and young he seems when he does. Some things that mother nature does can stop anyone in their tracks: young and old, fat and thin, rich and poor. Beauty doesn’t have limits. You would know, looking at one of the most beautiful things on the planet, right before your eyes. Dirty-blonde hair brightened by natural highlights from too many hours on the water, under the sun. Crinkles by the eyes that never quite go, even when he isn’t smiling. A jawline taken from a sketchbook and a smile that can make someone fold at the knees and swoon at the heart. You take to admiring your boyfriend the same way he admires the stars.

If you told childhood you that you were now sat on top of Pansy’s roof with your school-long crush, sipping beer and watching stars, you’d send her to A&E for a stroke.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, not drawing his eyes from the view above.

“So?”

“So,” he smiles.

“You’re my boyfriend. I’m allowed to stare, aren’t I?”

JJ’s smile takes on a little edge, like he’s proud. He glances down at you. “Like how that sounds. ‘Boyfriend’.”

You flush. “I mean, you are, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I?” he teases.

You roll your eyes and gently shove his shoulder. JJ laughs. The sound makes you smile, like a reflex.

“Shut up.”

“Might start taking a shot for every time you say that to me.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, because you can’t think of something else to say.

JJ guffaws. He slinks an arm around your waist and tugs you nearer to his side. You rest your head against his collar bone with a sigh.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you eventually say into the almost-silence. There’s the carrying sound of your friends’ chatter from below, managing its way up to the roof.

“Of course I am,” he says, teasing worn down. “Come on – thought we made that happen on the hammock.”

“Well, so did I, but we never officially said anything,” you quietly tell him.

JJ swallows. He knows what you mean. It’s impossible not to. That day went from being one of the best, to one of the worst, to one of the best days of your life. Things were left unsaid from it but things changed, nonetheless. The spot next to JJ was reserved for you; his texts became more flirtatious, more sweet, more sensitive; the two of you would kiss, whenever and wherever (something that you still can’t quite get used to); and you and JJ would spend time together with nobody else around. The ‘will you be my girlfriend?’ thing felt pointless. The ‘I love you’ thing, however, felt a little less right being left untouched.

“I gotta tell you something,” JJ says. He shifts so the two of you can meet the other’s gaze. You swallow down the nerves.

“Don’t tell me: you’ve got the clap,” you deadpan.

JJ smiles. He laughs silently, shaking his head. You still can’t believe he finds you funny. That he wants to hear your jokes more than anyone else’s.

“Not quite.”

“Gonorrhoea?”

“Shut up,” he sniggers, shaking his head.

You point a finger at him, grinning. “Aha! You said the thing!”

“You’re impossible, did you know that?”

“Nothing’s impossible if you just believe in yourself,” you hum, perhaps a little more drunk than you thought. Maybe that’s just him though. JJ tends to have that effect on you.

The only way it seems that JJ can think of shutting you up is to kiss you. You smile, slipping your hand over his atop of the grainy fabric of the roof tiles. Kissing JJ is like seeing a supernova: impossible to describe; faultless and insurmountably beautiful.

“What I was trying to tell you,” JJ says the moment his lips break from yours. Then, another kiss. “Is that” – another kiss – “I love you.”

You break apart with that, falling short of breath. You slowly open your eyes. Glance up to his, near reluctant. Wait for his jeer down to his friends or the punchline to follow, because surely – surely, he doesn’t. Could he? He’d sort of said it on the hammock, but when you pushed, he pulled away, and it made you wonder if you misinterpreted it. There’s a difference between having a thing for the quiet, weird girl and being in love with her.

Maybe all of these thoughts read easy on your face, because JJ’s half-smiling, half-frowning, and thumbing at your cheek.

“I mean it,” he quietly affirms. “I’m in love with you.”

“How do you even know that?” you whisper.

JJ smiles fully now. He shrugs. “I just do. I just…I don’t know. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and I didn’t even know it.”

“Everything?”

Your quietness? Your weird sense of humour? Your awkward punchlines? Your baking? Your crocheting? Your music? Your singing? Your body? Your figure? Your face? Your smile? Your voice? Your brain?

“Everything,” he nods reassuringly.

Kisses you once more, firm and fierce, and you kiss him back. That familiar zip chimes up and down your body, lighting up your neurons and firing away at your synapses. Being told by JJ Maybank that he loves you feels akin to Gabriel declaring to Mary that she was chosen. That you’re special, and beautiful, and maybe somehow sexy. That you’re talented and wanted and funny – he thinks you’re funny. He’s taken the time to know you and to understand you. He waited for you and you waited for him. And now, here, it’s like he’s the king of your heart. Maybe you ought to crown him for showing you these colours of the world and for teaching you the language of his tongue. For changing your life in every way a person probably can.

There’s only one type of crown you can think to give.

“I love you too, JJ.”

Thanks for 300 followers everyone <;3

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storyspinner91 · 10 months

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Willow Month 2023: Day 1 - Favorite Character

Please.

Ok, more seriously, it's absolutely and 100% Jade. There are myriad reasons: I love this kind of character who's duty-bound but wants things outside their duty, I love a character who has principles and sticks to them and reveals that Principles Can Be Good, Actually (I feel like so often these characters are just revealed as hide-bound, not the case here!), and I think Erin Kellyman did a great job performing Jade. I was hooked by her and her obvious yearning for Kit from the first time she flicks her eyes down to look at Kit's lips while Kit isn't watching her...like 20 seconds into the show.

(Because I didn't hear much about the show before watching, that moment also made me sit up straight and say, aloud, in an empty apartment, "Wait, are there lesbians in this Disney+ show?!" which is very funny.)

I wish we'd gotten more of Jade throughout the show, to be honest. I was fully onboard for this to be the Jade Claymore and sometimes Kit Tanthalos show, and while I understand why it wasn't, one thing that makes me sad about not getting Season 2 is that it sounds like they were intending to give her a little more to do, especially around her history and her discovered family with the Bone Reavers.

Does her sword-staff-glaive-thing make any sense as a weapon no not really but this is a fantasy show so far more importantly it looks dope as fuck and that is the primary thing a weapon derives efficacy from in this universe. ;)

#willow #willow 2022 #willowmonth2023 #save willow #jade claymore

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chickenparm · 6 months

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Reformatting (Scara/f!Reader) pt. 1

this was written for @onesaltygoddess. thanks for coming to me with this dope idea! :^) this fic is based off the recent fan animations that you can watch here and some cyberpunk 2077 mixed in to flesh it out. this fic is finished, and the following chapters will be uploaded over the next few days.

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AO3 Link Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader - Cyberpunk AU 2,753 Words - SFW, future NSFW (Reader is a synthetic/android, NSFW tags will be on appropriate chapter)

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“She’ll be useful. Her leashing chip has been removed and she’s not bound to her former overseer. As it stands, she has the capability to become completely autonomous.”

A sound of annoyance behind his teeth rings through the ship as Scaramouche stares out at the passing buildings shimmering through the cloaking field surrounding them. “There’s no telling what shape she’s in, not to mention whatever temperament she adopted from being with her last overseer. It’s not possible to know if she will have any use at all… beyond her base programming.”

“Don’t be crude,“ Ei’s voice is stern as she tilts the steering stick and the ship dips to the left, lowering as it goes. “She’s been through enough. Don’t make it more difficult by forcing her into that box when she’s only just escaped.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Scaramouche blows a sigh through his nose, eyes darting upward in a quick roll as he looks at the electronic ticker running along the inner brim of his hat, “I’ll bring the systems down just before we come into range. We’ll have less than ten.”

“Minutes?”

“No, seconds. Of course it’s minutes.”

From the corner of his eye, Scaramouche can see Ei’s expression in the reflection of the windscreen. Her mouth is set in a line, brows furrowed, but she says nothing at all. Disappointment flickers in his chest - how boring.

The lights of the city grow a little less crisp, the neon and LEDs gaining a sort of flicker that comes with age. Mixed between are ancient street lamps still using sodium-vapor, casting the wet streets in a sort of sickly yellow glow. They’re getting closer, and Ei doesn’t need to tell him to get to work.

The screens on his hat flicker to life, and he glances from one to another to another, a flick of his wrist spinning to the ones just out of his view. Under his breath he murmurs, “Security systems are poor for a government facility. Still holding at ten minutes, might be able to hold them off a little longer.”

“We’re almost in range of their sensors.” It goes without saying that those sensors need to come down if they hope to get in and out undetected. Ei lowers the craft, Scaramouche’s eyes glimmer for just a moment as he connects remotely with the subsystems controlling the facility.

Typical deconstruction protocols are happening within the primitive artificial intelligence systems. They’re in the middle of pulling apart and scrapping a set of L-13 models, and for a moment he wonders if they’re the ones from their previous trip to the city in search of their last runaway, Albedo. Trying to look through the cameras onto the disassembly line would be a waste of time, and Scaramouche’s curiosity goes unsated.

Instead, he flicks through the directory to the cameras observing the standby rooms. Little more than closets stacked high with spare parts, scrapped metal, bundled wiring. One consists of thousands of servos and transistors in piles that look disorganized and useless. Another room is enough to make his stomach turn, and he flicks away. Metal or not, the picked-clean skeletons of his people are still gruesome to his eyes.

At first, he thinks he’s simply found a room of L-13 models waiting for their turn on the disassembly line. But then, in the corner, a crumpled figure in the same state of undress as the powered-down L-13s around it. The build and features aren’t the same, even in the dark, and Scaramouche speaks aloud, “Got her. Not sure of the room number, they don’t have it labeled on their map. I’ll have to walk you through, Raiden.”

Another figure at the back of the craft moves forward, her hand clutched around a closed parasol. The tip of it drags on the floor behind her, the quiet sound of metal on metal. “Is ten minutes going to be enough?”

“For you? Yeah. Just don’t drag your feet.” Scaramouche doesn’t disconnect from the cameras, instead letting his physical gaze be taken over by his delve into the facility’s systems. A dangerous game to be playing if he were in public, but tucked safely into this ship and buckled in one of the seats, he’s willing to lose himself, just for a moment.

A quick-looping script is all it takes for him to break through the ICE and overload the already-strained CPUs running the facility. Their artificial intelligence draws too much on the hardware they’re using - amateurs. As he silently mocks their skill, the sensors go down and the ship approaches without tripping the alarms.

Distantly through the humming in his ears from his own hardware working as it should, Scaramouche hears the hatch open and Raiden’s footsteps move in quick bursts. Good - she’ll be fast.

To mask her movements, it’s a simple trick to take a few seconds’ long loop of the camera recordings and superimpose them. Raiden’s movements will be invisible unless somewhere in this factory there’s an organic being. Unlikely, but his tone is short and clipped as he gives her directions using the map he’d gleaned.

“Go around the next bend to the left.”

“Down the stairs two levels, the door is labeled 006.”

“Cut through the room on your right, the door in the back leads to a hallway you’re going to turn right onto.”

“Three doors down, on the left. Back left corner. Don’t alert the L-13s.”

Scaramouche’s curiosity gets the best of him. He looks in on the room, watches the effortless weave of Raiden through the powered-off synthetics. As Raiden squats down near the figure in the corner, their target doesn’t even move. It’s difficult to read her system processes through so many filters of security and cameras, but then her head rolls to the side and she looks up at Raiden with an expression of confusion and pain.

Pain. Physically she’s a bit battered, but not enough to warrant something more akin to heartbreak on her features. Perhaps the abandonment has affected her more than he expected - her disposal had been sudden, after all. From what he’d heard from Ei, she’d been replaced for a newer model. A synthetic that had features more aligned with current beauty standards floating around the net.

Scaramouche isn’t stupid. As Raiden hooks an arm over her shoulder and begins following the path back out with the same exact steps she arrived with, Scaramouche would categorize her features as pretty. Easy on the eyes, with a build that matches what he expected from a synthetic made with an E-droid’s purpose in mind.

One step above a pleasure bot, he blows a bit of air through his nose harshly. Flexible and durable probably, but with little else to offer beyond that. There’s no telling what her temperament is, how she’s been tampered with beyond herr initial specs upon creation. Hell, he’s not sure if she even has anything left in her memory bank, or if she’s been wiped clean upon disposal.

Scaramouche murmurs, voicing that quiet thought, “You think there’s anything left in her?”

“It’s possible. If she’s been wiped, it’s probably recoverable.”

Ei’s answer makes his shoulders tense, and he looks at her out of the corner of his eye, already knowing exactly what she’s implying. Chewing on his cheek, he contemplates an answer before giving it, “If she was sent for scrap, it was probably a hack job. What kind of idiot would try and steal a synthetic like that, anyway?”

“Me. And that’s exactly why you’re going to run an analysis on her while we return to Inazuma and figure out if there’s anything left in her that can be pieced back together.”

Scaramouche disconnects from the cameras completely as Raiden’s feet hit the boarding ramp, followed by softer, quieter steps. Five minutes left of cover - Ei doesn’t waste a second of it by taking her time. The ship shifts with the sudden acceleration, and Raiden holds their newcomer up with ease as everyone gets used to the new speed.

One look at her face tells Scaramouche everything he needs to know. Her eyes are unfocused, staring blankly at the floor as Raiden settles her in one of the seats and buckles her in. Pushing past her built-in ICE is as easy as popping a bubble, the iridescence snapping into non-existence.

Scaramouche connects with you.

And Ei was right. One cursory sift through your systems reveals that you’re worse than factory settings. But if they did as poorly as he expects, it would take some work to get everything back in order. Perhaps with some gaps here and there from data corruption, but otherwise it’ll be like you were never wiped at all.

When he relays this to Ei, she nods in acknowledgment and says, “It can wait until we’re somewhere safe. How long do you think it will take?”

“Depends how fragmented it all is. If it’s well-preserved… Maybe a day? If I have to look at the raw data to piece things back together then it could be a week or so. Won’t know until I start.”

Ei doesn’t need to say anything further. Scaramouche starts your repairs the moment you’re settled in the cradle-like pod that serves as a life support system as he breaks down and repairs everything that once made you who you are.

---

You’re falling.

Tumbling through the air freely, only the whisper of air against your ears. Weightlessness is an apt descriptor, because even if it’s freeing, you’re not free, even up here. The bands of silk could just as easily be the bars of a cage, shackles around your legs as you flex your limbs and catch yourself just short of the floor.

Just as well, they’re deceptively soft for something so binding, and you relish the feel of it against your skin and you deftly climb and descend in little spins and twirls, flourishes of your limbs that accentuate the lines of your form. He appreciates the extra show, loves the way it makes his friends exclaim in equal parts awe and desire.

If it weren’t for the music playing to guide your routine, you’d have turned your sound receptors off long ago.

But at the very least, you can focus on your counting, your breaths, the rhythm that acts as a scaffolding to keep you aloft and out of their reach. Only for a moment.

…

Your fingers press at the keys, playing a soft melody that you’ve ensured won’t distract your… employer from his work. In truth, he’s nothing more than your master, the one holding your deceptively short leash.

Calling me Master makes you seem like a slave, he told you once, as if he hadn’t just been leering at you spinning on the pole in the corner of his office. I pay you, and you provide a service.

The payment is your continued life. He hadn’t said it, but you both know it. The chip in your head was crudely inserted in the slot behind your ear, but if you even think of removing it, it’ll scramble your mind faster than you can shut down your systems. The “wage” you receive is the breaths you continue to take, the continued existence of yourself.

Employer - right.

“Enough.”

His voice rings out and you stop playing abruptly, your eyes upturning to look at him in quiet expectancy. There’s something unreadable on his face as he looks at the screen of his computer, and for a moment you wonder if he was talking to you at all. Your skin prickles, just before he finally says, “Leave. I’ll summon you back if I need a distraction.”

A distraction. An employee. A toy, a plaything, a pretty ornament that he brings out only when it suits him. It doesn’t matter what aspirations or goals you might have, what you might be doing in the interim. So long as you come slinking back when he tugs on your chains, it matters little what happens to you otherwise.

…

“How much you want for her? I know a guy that can augment synths, change their base model to be a little more… you know. Surely you want something newer?”

“I’m not done with this one, yet.”

Yet, he says, and that one word brings you hope and dread as you dip and turn, the fan in your hands fluttering with the movement as you snap it open, then closed. The fabric of your kimono slides across the floor in a whisper, hiding the sound of your steps as you follow movement ingrained in your mind.

It’s second nature, something you hardly need to think about as you spin both fans on your fingers before tossing them up, then catching them with a subdued flourish. A hum of appreciation from one of your employer’s friends is the only praise you get for something so impressive.

He’s an older gentleman, one who had never yet toed the line of disrespect with you, despite your clear difference in status. Of course, he is not a good man, but his gaze on you is one of appreciation for the arts, rather than what might be beneath the opulent layers of your kimono. Briefly, you wonder what your life might have been like if you had been obtained by someone like him.

Someone who would be more appreciative. Perhaps he might treat you better, let you leave the residence occasionally, let you have friends. Can a synthetic even have friends? You’re not quite sure. There’s a cleaning maid that comes around, but her programming makes it so that her only focus is that. Not once has she acknowledged your greetings.

All you have is your employer, sitting at the low table and drinking sake, indulging in what he calls a cultural night based on the destroyed customs of Inazuma.

You want to laugh, but your lipstick would crack.

…

“E-10, meet E-11.”

Your hands fold in front of you as you nod at the new arrival, taking in the sight of her clothing, her position mirrored to yours. At the base level, she’s similar to you - an E model bot is one designated for entertainment of various sorts. Version 10 is for the arts - dancing, singing, playing instruments. You’d heard of the 11th version’s capabilities, and something in your stomach twists at the recognition of this new model. Similar to yours, with… additions of the physical sort. Programs that prevent her from resistance, that force her into willing submission.

And you hate it. You don’t hate her, you hate what she’s forced to become. Every synthetic has the capability to be more than their original parameters, but the life that’s now laid out before her is one shackled to the demands of your employer. Her employer.

“E-10, you will show E-11 to her room across from yours.”

Obediently she follows you, as you obediently follow your order. Only when you’re alone, with the metal door shut behind you and her new bedroom spread out at your back, do you turn and grab her by the shoulders. “Did he chip you?”

“Wha-”

“Did he chip you? Yes or no!?”

“H-he inserted something in my receiver slot.”

Your hands grip her shoulders tighter and you all but sag. Her cage has already been locked. With a sniff, you lift your head to look at her and say, “I’m sorry.”

“Can’t I just remove it?” She asks, one hand lifting, but yours snatches up her wrist and keeps her immobile. It’s painful to lay out exactly what he’s done to her, what she’s now going to be subjected to. Her eyes grow wider as you explain what the chip does, why he’s done it. And only when her arms wrap around you in a hug do the tears really fall from your cheeks.

A hug. You’ve never had one of these before, and perhaps she hasn’t either with how her hands aren’t sure where exactly to go. And yet you figure it out, leaning on each other in the silence of the room. Your mouth opens to say something - maybe an apology or something to comfort - but you’re cut off with a sharp sound of electricity.

Like a socket short-circuiting, arcing across metal, and you wonder if it’s something wrong with her.

But then your knees give out, your vision starts to flicker with the shut down of your systems against your will, and E-11 cries out as your knees hit the floor and you go limp in her arms.

#mind the a/n for content tags #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin #genshin impact #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche/reader #cyberpunk au #reader insert #x reader #f!reader #afab reader

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insomniamamma · 1 year

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Tessellation: Cee and Ezra

A/N: written for @oonajaeadira and @yearofcreation2023. Year of kisses. The prompt is kiss while sleeping. This one ended up being far more about Cee than Ezra. As Stephen King says "Memory is the basis for every journey."

Warnings: medical trauma, drug abuse, illness, angst, Damon is a terrible father but he wasn't always, death.

He looks small. This man who has upended her life. Ezra. She doesn't even know his family name or where he hails from or which ship he dropped down to the Green on. She's known him two hands of cycles, much of that as he is now. What's left of his right arm is buried in white bandages, strapped to his chest. Tubes snake beneath the nest of blankets, draining murky pink froth from his lungs into oddly prissy containers hanging below, dust infection measured out into fill lines, blood and puss and Kevva knows what. Tube stuffed down his throat and taped to his face. His left arm turned palm up like a gesture of supplication, large-bore IV line spiked into the crook of his elbow, pulsoxometer clipped to his index finger.

He looks small. And deathly sick. His skin has a grayish cast she doesn't care for at all, the dark stubble on his cheeks screaming out like exclamation points. Cee's seen this before. Seen her dad pale and sallow-grey, breath slow, tucked some stim gum between his parted lips and smacked at his arm until he reflexively started chewing.

"I was sleeping, Cee." "but--" "Do NOT do that again. We've got a big drop coming up. We need to be sharp." "but--" "Just hang with me. This job pans out the way it should and we'll be out of the shit for good. Back to Central. But you've got to trust me. You've got to trust me and do what I say, clear?" "but, Dad--" "Are. We. Clear?" "Yeah. clear."

That familiar knot coils itself in her belly. The long greyed out days in between drops ending with her dad doped up to the gills, I need it to sleep, Cee. You'll understand when you're older, nodding off to leave her with his soupy snores and the endlessly shifting light through the pod's tiny rounded windows, little nights and dawns as the freighter spins. She'd copy out what she remembered of The Streamer Girl and listen until she felt confident that he wasn't going to die in his sleep.

"Can he hear me?" She'd asked the medic when they finally allowed her to see him. "Hard to say. We had to put him down pretty deep. He's got a lot of fight in him." "That's a good thing, right?" "Look. Your dad's real sick. He got pretty well dusted. If we can get him to the Pug he's got a shot. But that's a long haul from now. Clear?" "Clear."

She doesn't bother to correct the medic. Maybe things will play better for them if people take them as kin.

Ezra wasn't waking up. But he wasn't dying either. He just stayed stone still, swaddled in white, his stump buried in med-gel and bandages. His eyes flicked back and forth, caught in some endless looping dream. Cee takes his hand sometimes, careful not to dislodge the monitor clipped to his finger, always surprised at his warmth. She tells him about the endless days, doing whatever odd jobs need doing on the freighter, which she understands as charity disguised as work, a way to square their room and board until they hit the Pug. "--channel rat crawled up into the aft intake and died it was just bones and dust, I wanted to keep the skull but Leroy said it was bad luck so it just went in with the rest of the swill--"

Ezra starts twitching, small choking sounds around the tube down his throat.

"Easy," says Cee, "you're okay." And lays her hand on his forehead, smooths the taught skin there, presses the furrows down with her thumb, "You're okay."

"Did I tell you about when your mom used to hypnotize you?"

Cee slides her music player off. She knows by his tone that he is going to have his say. This has become something familiar. He puts the drops in his eyes and then talks. Sometimes it's names and places that she doesn't know and sometimes it involves her. If she doesn't at least make a show of listening he'll yell sometimes, his slurred out voice why don't you ever listen? So it's best to keep her ears half-cocked until sleep claims him.

"Mom used to hypnotize me?" "Mmmh-hmmm. You used to cry so much. You were colicky. We used to have to rub your belly to get you to fart--" "Ewww. Dad--" "They were baby farts! They didn't--they didn't smell--" "But mom?" "Yeah, she'd do this thing--" Damon sits up and lurches towards her and she flinches back a little, and even in his fuzzed out state she registers the hurt in his eyes. Damon smooths the pad of his thumb up and down between her eyebrows "She'd do that?" Cee can't help smiling a little. Damon rarely shows affection these days, and the feel of calloused thumb on her forehead is nice, makes her think of better times, makes her think of being small and Damon picking her up under her arms and covering her face and head with loud smacking kisses while she shrieked in delight, three of them instead of two, a job on some soft, barely remembered world a place of gentle grav and cool breezes, a hand held in each of hers and they'd swing her high, almost flying in the low grav-- "See? I hypnotized you." Cee breaks out of her reverie. "Did not." Damon lays back on his cot. "I freaked out. I told her don't you hypnotize that baby and she laughed and laughed--she--you--miss her…I miss.." and then he's gone. Drawn down into whatever relief the drugs give him, an ill rhythm of slow snores. And Cee waits, waits for the short term sedation of the drops to wane, for his breathing to even out into something more normal.

She remembers being sick. Got bit by a drill worm, Damon told her later, spiked a fever. Like touching a hot engine skirt. She remembers her mother's voice singing low and soft, can't remember the words, she was too small for that, but remembers the cool washcloth on her forehead, removed and re-wetted, Mom kissing her there, right between her eyebrows, where the pad of her thumb once passed.

Ezra sleeps swaddled and small and pinned by machinery, her hand folded around his, careful, fingers tracing the lines of his calloused palm. For now he is still, soothed by her touch. "Ezra? You need to wake up. I don't know what's going to happen when we get to the Pug."

Cee leans over and kisses him, presses her lips against that little space between his eyebrows.

"You need to wake up."

#ezra prospect #ezra (prospect)#cee prospect #cee (prospect)#ezra and cee #cee and ezra #cee and damon #prospect fic #year of kisses #year of themes 2023

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thekingofpunsreborn · 7 months

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“The Caller” (1987)

Dir. Arthur Allan Seidelman

Starring: Malcom McDowell and Madolyn Smith

“Point to you”

#movies #psychological thriller #malcom mcdowell #the caller #horror movies #dope flick

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malice-ov-mercy · 5 months

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Star Crossed

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Playlist

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

Content warnings: smoking

A/N: Is There Somewhere by Halsey inspired this.

Word count: 456

Tag list: @circle-with-me @foliosriot @xxrainstorm @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @reader13000 @cookiesupplier

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Will Ramos.

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Ruffilo Masterlist

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Late night hotel smoke sessions were Nicholas’ favorite pastimes with you. It was the closest he could ever get to the taste of your lips. So many times he’s been so close to stealing a kiss, but the stars never aligned in quite the right way. One always seemed to be just out of line. He’d memorized every detail, thumbed over the soft plumpness. Sometimes he swore he could taste the whiskey and tobacco or the minty freshness on your breath, but Nicholas could never capture your lips.

It pained you both how perfectly you fit together. Fate tempted at every turn, but laughed maniacally in your faces at every attempt of being together. Love blazed like a roaring fire scorching the earth, but the flood that was fate extinguished, only ever leaving just a pathetic little kindling. It enjoyed its torment.

“Nick?”

Your voice sounded heavenly every time you spoke to him, even when it’s tinged with uncertainty and sadness like now.

Nicholas turned his head slightly, glancing at you through his periphery. He didn’t need the moonlight to let him know how radiant and ethereal you looked.

“What is it?” He purposefully let your fingers brush together as he took the cigarette from you. There was nothing left of it, but he craved the lingering taste of your breath.

“Are we wasting our time?”

He caught a glimmer of tears in your eyes. It sunk the permanent dagger in his chest deeper. He emptied his lungs with a heavy despondent sigh.

“Unfortunately, I think we are, friend.”

The word was unfavorably bitter on his tongue. He’s had alcohol, dope, and cigarettes that tasted better. You were so much more than just a friend, but could never be more.

Nicholas dared a full look at you. Your knees were pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your shins. You were trying to shrink into yourself, to disappear completely from existence. He flicked the cigarette butt over the balcony and to the street below. Your body was cold as he nestled you into his side.

“You know I would love nothing more than to call you mine, but it seems the universe thinks otherwise.”

Lights from the city hindered the mocking twinkle of the night sky. Nicholas knew the stars were scattered everywhere without a cityscape interference. He used to find the sky beautiful, but that was before he met you. Now he hated it.

You rested your head on his shoulder. He pressed a soft, love filled kiss atop your head. He could kiss everywhere but your lips—well, maybe not everywhere. Fate forbade your lips, so he assumed other intimacies were included.

“I wish I could love you.”

“I wish I could love you too.”

#nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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mirakurutaimu · 3 months

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thanks for streaming lotr last nighte, i had to stay awake until the early hours of the morning and that shit hit different

np, it was dope revisiting those flicks the last few weeks. join us next saturday nite for some star wars: andor (it's like if star wars was Actually Good ™️) (i prommy)

#askmi

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xshiny · 4 months

Text

Keegan Russ <3

Your welcome, damn dog.

My first post, let's see how horrible I did.

You're pulling up outside a bar in the middle of the night, growing more concerned by the minute. Keegan had gotten shitfaced after a rough day and couldn't drive himself home, making it your problem now. As you step through the doors his eyes find you almost immediately and he grins.

"There he is, my favorite boy." He mutters, slurring his words as he takes another swig of his beer, resting his elbows against the counter. "Cap send you?" He asked, his grin fading as quickly as it came.

"Yes, and now let's get you home" You say, grabbing his arm while taking the beer out of his hand. You pulled him towards you, his arm over your shoulder as you help him walk out the door. "The fuck you were thinking!? Getting drunk because of a rough day?" You scolded him. You're one concern was getting him back home.

Keegan laughs, leaning more of his weight on you as he stumbles forward. When you grab his beer and start scolding him, he lifts his other hand and waves it dismissively.

"Aw I was fine, stop being such a prude. I was just having a bit of a celebration...or a pity party. One of the two." Keegan is always a bit stubborn, he hates being 'taken care of'. But he doesn't really oppose you helping him, which is new.

You rolled my eyes, and dragged him to your car, dumping him in the passenger seat, and clicking in his seat belt. Shutting the door and getting in the driver's seat, you buckle yourself in. Inserting the key, you started up the engine.

"Now I need you to corporate-" you paused, suddenly caught off guard as you glance at Keegan. "...what are you doing?"

With a groan, Keegan tries to turn his head in order to look at you, but he can't quite get his body to cooperate. His eyes were half lidded, but he looked incredibly tired.

"Um...? Nothing...I dunno...what are YOU doing?" Keegan laughs quietly to himself as his eyes slip closed and he leans to the side. His head tilts up slightly as he speaks again. "...are we going home now?"

You shake your head, clicking your tongue. He's such a no brainer when he's drunk.

"Yes, we're going home" you grumbled, and pressed the gas petal, driving away.

Enjoying the peaceful drive back, you glance every once in a while to make sure that Keegan was alright. Finally arriving back at base, you stop the car and exit. Opening up the passenger side, you take the sleeping Keegan out. You grunted as you lifted his dead weight over your shoulders, and piggy back ride him. Locking the car, you trudge on towards the base. Damn, why is he so HEAVY.

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Keegan is completely oblivious to the whole trip home, and stays completely asleep. As you walk into the base, you notice your squad watching you, some of their jaws hanging open in shock at the sight of you carrying a passed out Keegan. It's like they've never seen him drunk before. Dopes.

You catch their eye, and mouth to them that he was drunk. Proceeding to carry Keegan, you bring him to his quarters. Making it to his room, you open the door and shut it close behind you. Setting Keegan on his bed, you were finally able to relieve your fucking back. You then tucked the sleeping Keegan in, like a good little boy he is, and set a cup of water and some medicine on the nightstand table.

For a few seconds it looks as though Keegan might actually stay asleep as the alcohol takes its toll on his tired and exhausted body. But suddenly his eyes flick open and he starts groaning, trying to sit up. His eyes are unfocused, and he's definitely still drunk. As you watch, he slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position on the bed and looks around cautiously.

Startled, you glance over your shoulder as you were about to leave his room. What a fucking weirdo. Who wakes up after getting drunk...like especially after twenty minutes?? Not even I would do that.

"Where am I...?" He asks with a mumble, running his eyes across you and around the room. He blinks hard, trying to get his vision to focus. As you watch that's when the reality hits him like a ton of bricks."Wait a minute..." His voice grows louder as he recognizes the room. It only takes him a second until he's glaring at you.

The fuck you looking at? You stare back at him, confusion in your eyes as to why he's glaring at me. "Aren't you gonna thank me?" You ask, tilting your head, leaning on the wall.

"Thank you for...what? Treating me like- like a toddler?" Keegan scoffs, as though it's your fault he's wasted. He shifts so he's sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, but he still stares at you. "Besides, it's not like there are any awards being given out for doing the bare minimum." What a loser.

Okay, I helped him get in bed, and this is how he treats me?? "Oh, my bad, I guess I should have left your sorry ass back at the bar" you scoff, crossing arms and glaring at his ungratefulness. Such a derp.

Keegan rolls his eyes as he lets his feet drop to the ground and finally stands. He keeps his balance steady, but walks over to you and places his hands on the wall over your shoulders. He leans his face over to yours. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, as well as his typical cologne. "Don't act so high and mighty. If it weren't for me, you'd still be scrubbing toilets and running coffee." He scowls at you.

You gasp, offended by what he said. Is that what he thinks of me? Just some low ranked soldier who does nothing but clean? You scowl, and poke his chest angrily.

"You are supposed to be in bed, Mr. Drunk" you hiss. Without warning, you pick him up in bridal style and drop him on the bed. "And you're too drunk to even fight with me, so don't even think about it" you grumbled.

A look of pure shock spreads across Keegan's face as you scoop him up in bridal style and put him back in bed. There's silence as you lay him down. He's too caught off guard to say anything but his eyes narrow as he looks you up and down.

"Excuse me?" He asks, the alcohol slowly wearing off and his angry eyes growing clearer. He blinks and sits up in bed, glaring at you intently.

"You're excused" you scoff, and push him back down on the bed. "Get some rest, and maybe then you'll think about what you did" you scolded him, like he was a little kid.

The scolding only makes his scowl deepen and he rolls his eyes, but you push him back down on the bed and it's clear that he's no longer strong enough to put up a fight. He sinks into the pillows, looking over at the cup of water and medicine on the nightstand.

"...you know I'm going to kick your ass about this later..." He mutters, closing his eyes and leaning back on the pillows.

"Then I know you're sober and not drunk" you grumbled back, as you pull the blankets over his shoulders, tucking him in. Man, Keegan is so annoying when he's drunk. I just hope that I don't have to deal with it again.

Keegan rolls over so his back is to you and sighs, closing his eyes again. He seems much more relaxed now that he's under the covers, and he's starting to drift back off to sleep. But as you stand there ready to leave he mutters some more.

"Just for that, I'm going to make sure you have the shittiest job duties this week."

You gasp, exasperated, even more offended. "Okay, well I understand that I'm a low ranked soldier - but that doesn't mean you have to give me the worst jobs because I helped you and you don't want to admit that you needed my help!" You scoff, and hit his shoulder, not even caring it he's sleepy. You storm off, opening the bedroom door. "And I hope that both sides of your pillow is warm!" You called out over your shoulder, slamming his door shut, before your stomps could be heard down the hall.

You slam the door shut behind you and the last thing you hear before the door closes is Keegan snorting. You didn't know it, but you had hit him where it hurts. He hates warm pillows. You walk out of the room and past the group of men out front, who whisper about the whole interaction between you and Keegan. The men all try to act like they weren't eavesdropping at all, and instead focus on some random object in the hallway. Once you're in the clear, you hear some loud muttering coming from Keegan's room.

You throw a glare at the men who were pretending to be busy, and you shake my head angrily as you stormed off to your own quarters. Clocking in for bed, you grumbled about how you were gonna strangle Keegan the next time you find him drunk.

Your welcome, damn dog.

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January 12, 2024

2:09 am

A/N: this took many brain cells to put together 💀

#keegan russ x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x you #drunk #keegan x reader #keegan x you

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