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theminecraftbee · 3 days

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The moon has fully set over the horizon. The howling over the server has stopped. Four Hermits sit in a circle, staring just slightly away from each other, as to not be caught staring. Joe is miserably trying to wring mud out of his puppet. Stress isn't bothering about the mud at all but is despairing at how shredded her jumper is. Somehow, Zedaph has only lost a shoe, which is more concerning than any of the prior people. Xisuma is deliberately not checking himself. The damning lack of helmet on his head, though, means he can't avoid feeling how he underwent the same terrible transformation as everyone else.

"So," he says, finally.

"I could use pants," Joe says, finally giving up on washing out his puppet, and, ah. Yes. Those are pretty well destroyed, aren't they? Xisuma looks away politely, feeling his face heat up. It heats up more when he realizes everyone can see it, gosh, he's–he's not so sure how he feels about that–

"I think we all need pants. Look at us," Stress says, and if Xisuma can be looking away any harder, he sure is now. Wait, she said 'all', does that include... Oh, oh dear.

"Well I don't know about you, but I still have perfectly serviceable pants," Zedaph says imperiously.

"You know, if anything, that's weirder, given the way we were all giant wolves traipsing around in the night just now. Which is strange itself! However, wolves don't normally wear pants, so really, the fact the only article of clothing you've lost is your shoes is less miraculous and more actively impossible!" Joe responds.

"Well you're actively impossible," mutters Zedaph.

"My god, it was real," Xisuma says.

"Well, I mean, I sort of figured it had to be, what with the four of us being all covered in mud and tired and your helmet being gone and all that," Stress says.

"It was real," Xisuma says.

The four of them sit in silence a little longer. The sun continues its steady march upwards into the sky. It's April; the day is longer than the night, by now, so they aren't wasting but so much time compared to the time the moon was up. The time the moon was up feels a bit more like a dream than anything else, too; distantly, Xisuma wonders if this is what spiders feel like when they become angry during the night, or what drives the undead from the ground. It's a disquieting thought, and he'd literally lived in a skeleton!

"So," Joe says. "So. Which one of us is going to yell at Zedaph for biting us?"

"Rude!" Zedaph says. "Very rude, I'm not the one that bit you! You bit me! Xisuma bit me, actually, you all saw him!"

"What? No, I didn't!" Xisuma says. "Gosh, if I were a werewolf, don't you think you'd know by now?"

"Hm. Suspicious," Zedaph says.

"No?" Xisuma says.

"I mean, I'd try to claim it was my fault, what with being a monster and all, but I'm actually a different sort of beastie normally," Stress says. "Being all doggy is new for me. I should show Iskall. Hey, do you think I should bite Iskall?"

"Yes," Zedaph says.

"No," Xisuma says.

"I'll split the difference and say maybe," Joe says. "Also, since we're arguing about it anyway, I'll say that I think I'd remember if I bit someone, although maybe I wouldn't. It's been a weird night. Maybe I should just go ahead and get everyone apology gifts instead?"

"Please don't," Zedaph says.

"Aww, but I like his gifts," Stress says.

"Honestly, yeah, I was–no, Zedaph is right, it'd be too distracting," Xisuma says, thinking of many of the, er, gifts he's gotten from Joe in the past. "Besides, it's not your fault. But if none of us bit anyone, then why on earth are we all werewolves no–oh no."

"That was ominous?" Joe says.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," Zedaph says. "Whoops."

"It was supposed to be a joke about investment bankers," Xisuma says.

"Wait, what, do you really think the silly name turned us into werewolves?" Stress says.

"I had other season plans, Xisuma!" Joe says.

"Hey, does that make me a sheep in wolf's clothing that's also a wolf that turns into a sheep that turns into a wolf? If so, neat," Zedaph says.

"Do you know how annoying it will be to get a werewolf puppet?" Joe says.

"Gosh, I absolutely have to bite Iskall now," Stress says.

Xisuma, for a moment, considers putting a stop to it. If it really is the silly name, the collective, the hats and the howls–if it really is the collective weight of story bearing down on all of them–then really, it's still so early that it would be very easy to stop.

Xisuma considers the competition the rest of the shopping district poses, and how easy it will be to move as a collective when they're also a pack.

Also, he hasn't actually been a wolf before. That's one mob he hasn't done!

"You should bite Iskall. I want to know what it does," Xisuma says, deciding that he's quite bored with being responsible and that if someone wants to stop it, it will have to be not him. "But, er, first, in the meantime, do you think he or Doc is better to ask for a helmet that'll grow to fit my muzzle instead of nearly trapping my skull?"

"Hm," Stress says. "Well, Iskall is pretty good at head electronics."

"Yeah, but Doc is a better choice for abominations against nature!" Joe says.

"What about me? I like abominations," Zedaph says.

"It's okay, Zedaph, it's just you don't make many helmets, is all," Xisuma says. "We'll run around being abominations of nature, gosh, most full moons together. Is that good enough?"

"Fine," Zedaph says. "I'm bringing the snacks. I have sheep, and I've always wanted to try cannibalism."

"I guess werewolves wouldn't have to worry about prions," Joe says, nodding.

"Well, if you're going to get Doc, I'm going to go bite Iskall. I know I don't got fangs right now but it'll be very funny either way," Stress says.

"Have fun!" Xisuma says, and even though he's still red, and no one has pants but Zedaph, and he feels vaguely sick without his helmet, he also feels something close to pure delight. Gosh. Werewolves, huh? What a concept, having a little pack. He'll have to make the most of it; they've already seen his face anyway, and not one of them have commented or looked him in the eyes. Clearly, it won't matter so much if Doc takes a while with the helmet.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #xisuma #joe hills #zedaph #stressmonster101 #a bee fic #me vibrating at high speeds: WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES WOLVES #the fact today is hermit-a-day-may xisuma day is coincidence i'm not doing it (although everyone should!)#but i figure it decent timing anyway

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ponderingmoonlight · 14 hours

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Darlin', can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: In a world full of death and tortue, wouldn't it be the easiest to seduce a man who is able to protect you at any cost? Ryomen Sukuna definetely is exactly that. Now, the seduction part...

Warnings: no really deep plot, just some teasing and a little bit of spice here and there, language, reader trying to seduce Sukuna with literally everything lol

Inspired by the song "favorite" by Isabel LaRosa

Your mission was clear since the first time you saw him in action, felt how strong he is: Get Sukuna to fucking adore you.

It might sound ridiculous to the untrained ear. Sukuna, the king of curses, the most frightful creature walking on this planet? To even consider you’d be able to warm his heart is worth a laughter. You know exactly how all the others would react when they hear your wild plan to seduce him, to get him to catch feelings for only you.

But what better defense than having the king of curses by your side? This fucking world is nothing but a battlefield and as a jujutsu sorcerer, you’re in the middle of it. Day in day out you risk your life in order to safe others. And even though it might sound tempting to simply haunt after Gojo Satoru, it’s not the same.

No, you want Ryomen Sukuna and no one else.

Your heels click against the floor as you make your way through Shibuya’s train station, Sukuna’s fingers lying in your purse comfortably. What better way to catch a glimpse into his heart than giving him back those? Well, to be exact you don’t have a set plan apart from getting him to like you. After all, love can’t be forced, right?

Well, that skin tight dress paired with those high heels you chose for today might do that, though.

“Now, where are you Yuji?”, you mumble to yourself, eyes darting around the worn-down area.

There is no doubt in the fact that a fight occurred here not long ago. The air still smells like blood and sweat, the wall is still hot from an enormous impact. But who? Was it Yuji? You follow a trail of blood with your hips swinging from side to side. You just need to find him, need to seduce the king of curses. This is your best chance to not croak in this shitty job.

Your heels stop in their tracks.

A tuft of pink hair rests against the entrance of the rest room, so minor that you almost missed it.

Almost.

You walk towards the beat-up boy while casually inspecting him. He’s definitely alive, but barely. Yuji’s whole face is covered in multiple cuts and bruises. Who on earth did he fight against? And where is that other person? No, it’s not your responsibility to think about that right now. With a swift motion you open your purse and reveal those oh so deadly fingers.

“Now be a good boy and swallow”, you purr.

Your hand grabs his neck and yanks his head upwards while you carefully feed Yuji Sukuna’s fingers. Please, let this work. You are tired to the brim of running away, of fighting curse after curse each and every day. How about a peaceful life with Sukuna by your side? Fuck Jujutsu High, fuck Satoru Gojo. You don’t want to die before you were even able to live properly.

“Get your hands off me, human.”

For a moment, your heart skips a beat. Just one look into his red gleaming eyes and suddenly so matured face is enough for you to realize that this isn’t Yuji anymore. No, the person you are sitting on with your hand wrapped around his neck is none other than Ryomen Sukuna.

Finally.

“Oh, you’re awake. That went smoother than I thought”, you reply with a cheeky grin, not moving an inch away from him like he told you to.

“Who the hell are you, brat?”

He has definitely seen you before, you are a jujutsu sorcerer without any doubt. But why are so damn close, why does your hand wrap so delicately around his neck? Your dark eyes rest on his face unpromising, lashes hanging into your orbs seductively. What’s that supposed to be?

“My name’s whatever you make it. But how about wife?”

Sukuna isn’t able to move, let alone speak. Did you really introduce yourself to the king of curses like that? He shouldn’t waste any time, wring your neck the way you deserve it, dissolve you into tiny pieces. Who the hell do you think you are to speak to him like that? You, a puny woman? Not even the fact that you reunited him with a few of his missing fingers is enough to spare your life.

But why…Why does he still sit there like he did before, allowing your hand to rest against his neck? Why is he unable to give you a sharp answer like he always does?

“I am the king of curses”, is the only thing he’s able to press out.

“And I’ll be your girl. Deal?”

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, eyes scanning your features up and down. You do have a pretty decent face for a human, your delicate eyes keeping him trapped. That confidence dripping from each and every pore of yours, the way your body is so near that he’s able to hear your blood circulate…

“What the hell are you talking about, stupid girl? If I wanted to, I could kill you without even flinching. Now get off me and run for your life.”

When Sukuna finally regained his threatening voice again, he expected your heart to shiver, your body to stumble backwards until you run away. But instead, you move even closer and dare to sit on top of him, gleaming eyes now staring him into the ground while your naked thighs rub against his pants.

“But you didn’t. Think I must be your favorite.”

The fact that he didn’t kill you right on the spot when you disobeyed his order is enough proof that your plan is actually working. Yes, you managed to confuse the king of curses, to arouse his interest. Now the only thing that’s left is seducing him.

“You are annoying as hell. Now get off me, I have some work to do”, he barks back at you.

His hand grabs your wrist roughly and removes your grip around his neck. But instead of simply throwing you off him, he holds your arm in place while keeping only inches of distance.

Oh, his lips are so close that you are literally able to taste them. Just one movement, one innocent flinching of your hips above his and the gap between you both is closed.

“Are you trying to seduce me, dumb girl?”, he breathes out.

He does it so well, keeping himself cool and composed while his mind races back and forth with your intoxicating smell penetrating his nose. In his long life, there was never a woman who actually tried to seduce him. After all, he’s the king of curses, so strong because of the fact that he never felt love or affection for anyone in all those years. He’s heartless, cold, a menace. Why would a woman ever get the idea of showing him affection? He came here to kill, to destroy this fucking city and make that brat suffer.

But now there’s you.

And apparently you couldn’t care less about the fact that he’s the king of curses.

“Actually, I am”, you purr, your free hand beginning to draw small circles onto his chest.

“Why would you do something so fucking stupid?”

“I mean, you’re the strongest, right?”

He has to blink a few times, the way you look at him as if he’s the dumb one catching him completely off guard.

“I’m the king of curses”, he reminds you all over again.

“And with being your favorite, you take me places-“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”, he interrupts you roughly.

You roll your eyes in sheer annoyance, nails now digging into his chest.

“Make me your wife so I don’t die”, you finally blurt out.

Is this the reason behind your questionable action? He could have killed you right on the spot and just one look into your gleaming orbs tells him that you know that all too well. And still, you risked your life for him to protect yours. Were you really so sure you’d be able to seduce the king of curses with a lousy dress and some high heels?

“Why would I do that?”

Enough playing. He should behead you right on the spot before torturing you for the time you wasted. You aren’t even worthy to breathe the same air as him, let alone being this close to his body.

But…Why isn’t he able to simply throw you off, then? Why is he even questioning what you’re up to, replaying your words over and over in his mind?

“Because I’ll let you taste-“

Your mouth is so close to his ear that your hot breath caresses his skin while the filthiest thoughts leave you with ease. His eyes grow wider and wider with each passing second, disgusted but at the same time…

“Enough”, he hisses through gritted teeth while grabbing your shoulders roughly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Aren’t you at least a little invested? I have a lot to offer”, you reply, ignoring his last question elegantly.

The war inside his head makes him forget that he’s actually out on a mission for a moment. You…you are so different from all those other jujutsu sorcerers, risked your puny life so that he eventually watches over you. How ridiculously brave, how fucking stupid. But still, when your gleaming eyes rest on his face like that, that oh so cheeky grin plastered on your face you make him wonder. A wife, his favorite?

Before he’s able to think straight again, a wave of freezing mist darts towards you at neck-breaking speed. His heart skips a beat, eyes darting towards Uraume who fixates you with hate dripping from every poor of her warped face.

You won’t be fast enough. No jujutsu sorcerer except for Gojo Satoru himself is able to escape Uraume’s powers when surprised. If he doesn’t react, you’ll die. But isn’t that what he wants, that you finally vanish into thin air and leave him alone? You, the girl who just claimed him as her husband only because she doesn’t want to die.

“No.”

His body moves on its own. All of the sudden he finds himself standing in front of you, his hand deflecting Uraume’s Frost Calm with ease.

“Don’t you dare to hurt her, Uraume.”

You can’t believe it, breath getting stuck in your throat. He really did save you. Even though all you did was purring at him, trying to convince him with sugary words, Ryomen Sukuna stood up for you and defended you against one of his. Out of instinct, you push your wobbly legs off the ground, excitement filling you to the brim. With that oh so cheeky smile, you wrap your arm around his and eye the person in front of you up and down innocently.

“But she…she is a human being, Master. She’s a weakling, one of your enemies”, Uraume breathes out.

“Who allowed you to speak to your Master like that? Get out of my sight and do what you were taught to.”

You watch in awe as the person standing in front of you crumbles, their hateful gaze almost piercing through you like a knife until their gone as fast as they came.

“So, I really am your favorite, huh?”, you hum.

“Shut up brat, I’m the only one who can kill you. Now get going, I have a lot of work to do.”

Tags:

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@hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut

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@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 days

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could you do one about all the members of 141 if the reader is super sensitive during sex, squeaks and squirms, cries but she likes it she’s just very responsive

Sensitivity during sex is subjective as everyone is different in that regard. So, here is my little offering to you, anon.

Content & Warnings: unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty talk, missionary, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation, cowgirl, mirror sex, vaginal fingering

John “Soap” MacTavish: Soap is a bit of a tease. (wc: 374) Kyle “Gaz” Garrick: Kyle talks you through it. (wc: 457) John Price: Wants you to watch. (wc: 404) Simon “Ghost” Riley: Simon pins you down. (wc: 391)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is a tease.

“How’s that feel, love?” he croons with a mischievous smile.

You whimper. Gasp. His hands upon your skin are simply too much.

Without an answer, Johnny goes down on one elbow, changing the position. He’s not even thrusting anymore, simply holding himself inside you, keeping your legs spread wide over his large, muscled thighs.

“Can’t use your words?” he mocks lightly as the tips of his fingers tenderly graze over a hardened nipple.

At the same time, he sinks a bit further, thighs spreading slightly, pushing your legs even wider. You’re unable to do much but writhe and wiggle beneath him. He always does this. Always teases. He loves how sensitive you are, and how your body comes alive beneath him. All the little sounds you make, all the sharp shakes and shivers, only motivate Johnny to draw forth more.

“What will happen if I touch you here, hm?” he asks, his hand dipping between your bodies. When Johnny says “here,” he runs his finger around the place your bodies meet.

Your cry is loud, and it only becomes louder when he trails upward to circle your clit. His name is there, on the very tip of your tongue, but each touch is a zap, stealing your voice.

But this touching and teasing isn’t cruel. You love every second. It only makes the end that much more electric.

“And here, love? What would happen?” he murmurs.

While still moving over your clit, Johnny leans forward, his tongue circling and then sucking your nipple into his mouth. Your body immediately contracts, every muscle tensing then relaxing. A little shiver rattles up through your spine and out to the edges of your limbs. It causes you to squirm, the sensitivity nearly overwhelming.

But there is nowhere for you to go. You are not only pinned to the bed by Johnny’s upper body but by his cock.

Johnny releases your nipple, his mouth forming a smug smile. “Suppose you need some relief, yeah?”

You curl into him, fingers digging into his skin. Johnny brushes your hair out of your face, and that too makes you tremble.

“Lie back,” he soothes, and you melt, molding to the bed as he flattens himself above you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle talks you through it.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“That’s my girl. Look at you.”

Kyle delicately guides your legs toward your chest. You’re bent at the knees, trembling, breathing coming fast and heavy. Every touch of his is like a brand against the skin. It is an overwhelming tsunami.

“Kyle,” you beg. “Please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Maybe for it all to end even though you crave the sensation.

“Gotta control that wiggling love.”

“I—I can’t,” you whimper, thighs trembling as he puts you into position.

Kyle parts your pussy with his fingers and you cry out. He tuts and then inserts two fingers. Your hips instantly buck and your back arches, wanting to escape from him.

“No no. None of that, love.” Kyle lightly presses down on your stomach, holding you still as he curls his fingers up and drags them, repeating the motion.

Again, you cry out, and then tears sting your cheeks as you claw at the bedding.

“Control your squirming and I’ll give you what you want.”

“You’re awful,” you whimper, every muscle in your body twitching, wanting to move.

“Do what I say, love. Know you can.” You inhale and Kyle chuckles softly. “That’s it. Good. Exhale. Again.”

He has you repeat the process until the muscles in your limbs calm.

Kyle’s hands retreat, and then he reclines beside you, rotating onto his back. His hand palms the base of his cock, stroking gently.

“Get on top, love. Hands on my chest. You control the pace.”

With a gentle tremble, you swing one leg over Kyle’s thighs, straddling him. You do as he instructs, placing your hands on his chest and angling your hips. He guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pushing in, stretching you wide, the sensation shooting up your spin and as well as to the tips of your toes.

“I know you can take it. Fuck, love. That’s it. Good.”

You slowly slide down on him, groaning loudly, nails digging into his chest as you impale yourself on him.

“Oh—fuck.” Kyle’s hands are on your thighs, running up and down them in a caress.

It takes every bit of your concentration to focus on the rhythm of your hips. You’re overly sensitive, and this position reaches deep, hitting that sweet spot every time you come down on him.

“Kyle,” you beg, but it’s without meaning. You just need to talk, to say something, to verbalize your need in whatever way you’re able.

His answer is a groan. “That’s it. Fuck, love. You feel amazing.”

Slowly, your eyelids open, and you’re greeted with a beautiful sight.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he says, one hand sliding between your breasts.

John Price

“Look at yourself, love.”

You are unable to move. Unable to squirm.

John has you spread wide over his thighs like a sacrificial offering. His knees are bent toward the ceiling and just parted enough that you cannot move your legs while draped in his lap. He’s got you impaled on his cock, and he is downright fucking smug about it.

While the motion of your legs is useless, you also don’t have your arms. John has them propped above your head because he doesn’t want you touching him or himself. His own muscles forearms snake up and over your upper arms. It allows you no control, but allows John everything. He can touch your breasts like this. He can touch your clit, your neck, and whatever else he wants.

John rocks and rolls his hips, dick appearing and then disappearing back into your pussy. All you can do is flex your hips a bit but it isn’t enough. You are completely trapped. At his mercy. And the sensitivity is overwhelming.

Without any control, you have to submit to John, and while you love it, it only rockets every ripple of pleasure that much higher.

“See what I have to do,” he murmurs into your ear. “You can’t stop moving.”

Tears bloom in the corners of your eyes like tiny dewdrops. You are far too sensitive for this. John is pushing you into overstimulation.

John nips at your earlobe and you gasp. “Look,” he prompts.

The closet door is open. Not by much, but enough that the mirror that hands on the inside faces the bed. Within, you see yourself, and John. You see how splayed out you are, how needy and pathetic you look in his arms.

“Look,” he says again. “Want you to watch.”

It takes all your effort to focus. Every time John rock his hips upward, his brush of skin against you is fire. It causes everything in you to react and jump. But you cannot writhe. Cannot move.

And that only makes you more frustratingly coiled with untamed need.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyelids heavy as you gaze upon the spot where your bodies meet, and how much your body stretches to accommodate him. You can see how your chest heaves, the tightness building and overwhelming your senses.

“Now you see what I see,” murmurs John as his hand delves downward to give you some relief.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Quit your squirming.”

“Then don’t be cruel,” you moan, nearly jumping out of Simon’s arms when he sharply thrusts upward.

Simon’s teeth nip at your throat and this time your body jerks, almost sending you out of his lap.

“Stay still,” he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“You know how sensitive I am.”

“I do. Fucking love it.”

Simon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s an embrace, and yet there is power behind it, the muscles there tensing with anticipation. You inhale, and your exhalation is stolen from you.

Simon twists, and you go with him, rolling onto your back.

You squeak loudly only to be pinned against the bed. “Simon—”

He crushes his lips to yours, his tongue delving for your taste. The only sound you make is a whimper. “But sometimes,” murmurs Simon against your lips. Your squirming gets in the way.”

Using his body weight, Simon drives in at a harsh angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. That vibration of pleasure ripples outward, and your body reacts as it always does. But you cannot writhe and wiggle. Simon is too heavy, and he knows this, which is why he’s pinned you.

“Oh—fuck. Simon. Plea—. Please.”

“Please what?” laughs Simon softly before moving inside of you again.

The only reply you can make is a strained moan.

Simon grins, completely smug. “Tuck in, love. I’ll give you something to squirm about.”

Simon wraps your wrists up in one hand, pinning them above your head. He starts to thrust in earnest, his free hand holding the side of your throat. He watches on as tears come to your eyes. Your body wants to move, to buck and arch against him, but you are completely trapped.

Simon leans in, kisses the spots on your cheeks stained with tears. The only thing you can move are the bottoms of your legs. You wrap your ankles over his bulging calves and cling.

Every stroke and brush of his skin against yours is a roaring fire, rocketing you toward overstimulation. Words fall from your lips but they are elusive, just white noise in your ears. You know that you’re crying, that you’re speaking to him, that you’re attempting to move.

But Simon is relentless, claiming every inch of your body like he always does.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @miaraei

@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @berarenado

@saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @thewulf @lxblm

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@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

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@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @glassgulls

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minsheart · 2 days

Text

LEE FELIX: THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND TO...

pairings: boyfriend!felix x reader genre: fluff word count: 440 cw: none a/n: lee felix yongbok!! (i don't know what to say other than i love him)

felix is the type of boyfriend to love it when you count or when you kiss his freckles, he finds it super cute and it makes him feel really cherished.

felix is the type of boyfriend to always have you on his mind. when he's out shopping, he's always looking for things that you'd love to get. when he goes to a restaurant with the kids, he thinks of how nice it would be to bring you there for a date sometime. when he's onstage, he blows a kiss to the camera and makes a finger heart the way only the two of you make, since he knows you'll be watching.

felix is the type of boyfriend to insist on paying for you 24/7. if he can pay for you, why shouldn't he? he loves to pamper you and buy you stuff. of course, if you're that adamant for paying for yourself, he'll let you. next time though, the bill will already be paid before you even get to know how much it cost.

felix is the type of boyfriend to be playful, but always mean his words. sometimes, he'll tease you for being clingy and affectionate, laughing while knowing he's exactly the same as you, but don't you ever doubt him when he says his biggest wish is to spend his forever with you.

felix is the type of boyfriend to always have his homemade brownies ready for you for when you have a day day. it's like some sort of boyfriend sense — he magically knows when you're bound to come home feeling down. and so, knowing how much you love his brownies, he makes sure to bake some for you. juuuust in case.

felix is the type of boyfriend to play videogames with you. if you're not really skilled at it, he'll try to teach you how to play more chill games such as mario kart, so the both of you can have some fun together.

felix is the type of boyfriend to have the coziest and prettiest house in animal crossing with you. not to mention the amount of screenshots he has of your characters together. it's just really cute to him.

felix is the type of boyfriend to love late night cuddles. snuggling next to you on bed, arm draped around your waist while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck has got to be one of his favorite things ever. waking up next to you is even better — he feels giddy and warm inside just from seeing your sleepy self.

felix is the type of boyfriend to always love you, no matter what.

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 22 hours

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Seventeen & matching/couple items

💕Who; seventeen (individually) x gender-neutral reader 💕What; soft thoughts about the couple items they'd have with their significant other 💕Wordcount; around 1.5k altogether 💕Warnings; none! I didn't even swear in this, go me

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this wasn't supposed to be a whole thing which is why there's no capitalisation, plus it's almost 2 am so I am not about to go through and change the style now

seungcheol; definitely rings. i imagine something simple and in silver with both of your initials on the inside so it's more subtle but he can still look down at it when he needs the strength you give him but he's also always giving you his hoodies/jackets/hats and will buy another of any you refuse to give back so you wind up matching that way too but only intentionally in private. cheol likes to show you off but only to those he trusts and loves because he only wants you to feel the love you deserve

jeonghan; jackets, like matching bomber-style jackets with cute embroidery and maybe your names embroidered on them somewhere. but he often steals yours so you have to wear his just so that he can see his name on you he'll definitely come up to you one day like "babe, let's get matching tattoos" only to show you a packet of temporary tattoos he got for some change in a machine. the designs are all clearly aimed at children but you both wind up with arms dotted in these cute little matching images

joshua; something sweet and handmade because it means more. yes, im talking about his handmade bracelets, or beaded keychains you made for each other one lazy afternoon full of giggles as you make each other the most atrocious keychains in a competition to make the worst just for the fun of it. yet you both still adore the keychain gifted to you because the other made it and wear it proudly on your favourite/daily bags omg mugs, every morning(if you live together) he gets up earlier than you on purpose just so that he can make sure that he can make you both your morning beverages(regardless of if you drink hot drinks or not) in the matching mugs. he smiles sleepy and content at you every time without fail as he watches you sip at your mug with the sweet phrase on that matches his own

junhui; i don't know why but i suddenly imagined matching plushies and that feels right. maybe you happened to both win the same one during an arcade date in a claw machine but now you both sleep with that same one on your bed even if it's for an anime neither of you has watched i don't imagine jun purposely getting matching items because it wouldn't really occur to him as he's never felt the need to boast, he's happy with you and he hopes you're the same though when you're out together wandering around stores and see little decor you both like, he'll rush to buy you one each so your living spaces matches. (he's really just slyly making your homes similar enough that it won't seem like such a difference when he asks you to move in)

soonyoung; i actually think he'd be quite subtle with it tbh. he'd give you a tiger plushie keychain to attach to your bag and he'd have a matching one of your favourite animal on his own and will always fiddle with it mindlessly and think of you. so it actually wears out quite often and he has to geta new one. though he keeps the damaged ones in a secret box under his bed because it'd feel like throwing a piece of you out, he really does link the cute little plushie to you so much he might also like something like bucket hats/beanies that match but in simple designs/colours so although you two know they're purposely matching, others will just see you both in plain black bucket hats and think nothing of it other than an easy to happen coincidence

wonwoo; wonwoo would definitely want something just for you two that isn't necessarily an obvious couple item. maybe a cute little enamel badge on his favourite jacket and you have the same on your daily bag also matching gaming headphones because how can i not mention that? even if you don't really game, he'll buy a set he's had his eyes on for ages aimed at couples, with the matching stands and keeps both on his desk so he can look over at your one even if you're not there. always makes him smile to himself and perk up even if he's about to rage quit a game

jihoon; another simple subtle kind of guy. i'm imagining something like braided leather-look bracelets with silver beads with a heart etching which he only takes off to shower/swim and will glare at any stylist who tries to convince him to remove it another one with matching headphones but in this case it's more that jihoon bought you a pair specifically for his studio so that you can listen to what he's working on with him without any outside noises disturbing your peace like can happen with the speakers. sometimes he subtley removes his own when he plays songs you already know just to hear you singing along softly while you do work on your laptop without realising he's listening to you utterly enamoured

seokmin; necklaces, probably multiple of them but his favourite is one of those where you shine a light through the gem and it projects a chosen photo onto the wall or something. the amount of times the others have found seokmin tucked up in a dark corner somewhere awkwardly trying to use the light on his phone to shine through the necklace without removing it is unreal. cute boy just wants to see the first photo you two ever took together for comfort <3 but i also imagine that one upon a time you two were in a store and he saw novelty hats and he didn't manage to slyly buy them for you both because he kept giggling so you found out before he made it to pay but you let him buy them because he looked to happy. so now you both have a novelty hat hanging proudly in your homes, you don't wear them but it makes you both smile to look at

mingyu; everything. he'll want every possible matching couple item. hoodies, bags, hats, rings, bracelets(im emotionally attached to the one he gives reader in this fic i wrote), necklaces, phone cases. omg phone cases, that's his favourite and you can bet there's multiple of them and he matches them to his outfit so every morning you get a selfie of his outfit, but not the case because he likes to make a game out of seeing if you'll guess the correct case to put on your phone that day to match (you always do)

minghao; i feel like he'd like matching necklaces or bracelets, something delicate and simple but full of meaning for you both. he'd especially love a necklace long enough that he can hold the pendant over his heart as he thinks of you when you're apart and hopes you're thinking of him too but he'd also like to make something, maybe one of you buys an embroidery kit one day for you two to try something new together and you personalise matching premade little zip bags(coin purse/toiletry bag idk what you'd call them) to gift each other. obviously as it's your first attempt at embroidery, they don't turn out that great but minghao proudly carries him around all the time with whatever little items he may need during the day and doesn't want to lose in his bag

seokmin; i have no idea why but my brain said shoes and now honestly that seems so random but i can't let it go now so you have matching shoes, a variety to match a range of outfits. They may not be exactly the same(though some are) but they're similar enough to work. seungkwan always smiles dopily to himself then plays it off and side eyes you when you tease him for it, though he's realyl fighting hard not to smile because he really loves the unique way to match with you also matching scarf/gloves/hat sets for the cold weather because he loves bundling you up so you're all cosy snug. the matching aspect is just a happy bonus and definitely always leads to loads of selfies with your matching pink cheeks and noses barely in view under the thick scarves

vernon; t-shirts, band tees, graphic tees, plain ones. just t-shirts. it started because you always stole his and he didn't realise it was because they're his so he bought you the same ones and took his back, only for you to swap them out next time. but he knows now and buys two of pretty much every t-shirt he buys though makes sure to wear one a handful of times before giving that one to you because he knows you like things he's worn he's also the type i think to like carrying a photo of you two in his wallet/tucked hidden into his phone case, like a photobooth one and obviously you have the other half of the strip in your own

chan; honestly, i think chan would just be happy to do whatever you want with matching. he thinks it's cute as hell to match with his partner but he won't really be the one to actively bring it up, just hint "oh look, babe, that couple have matching jackets, isn't that cute?" until you get the hint and ask him to get something matching with you, though he still has you lead it just anything at all would be his favourite regardless of if it was just a cheap prize keyring from the arcade or expensive brand new phones just to match, he won't care so long as he gets to show off that you two belong to each other

A/N- if you liked this, don't forget to let me know so that I know to try and do more things like this & also reblog so others can enjoy it too!

And if you have ideas/suggestions for seventeen content, feel free to send me an ask to help inspire me to write! (or just scream at me about the ideas if you want and I'll likely scream back with a continuation with your own thoughts tbh)

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separatist-apologist · 2 days

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On My Vigilante Shit Again

Summary: At the High Lords Meeting, Rhys doesn't dress for friends-He's dressed for revenge.

Read on AO3

Thank you @velidewrites for the moodboard!

Note: This is what should have happened post High Lords meeting and you can quote me on that

“The moment you let him fuck you like an—”

Rhys was going to explode. Was going to kill him. Laws be damned, Rhys stared Tamlin down as he ripped through Tamlin’s feeble defenses and held his mind. Just his tongue, for now. But his mind was pliant, his will weak. Rhys could so easily rip his mind apart, make Tamlin beg and plead. Make him grovel before Feyre on his knees, head bowed so low he couldn’t breathe for the marble slammed against his nose.

Rhys’s hands shook under the table, his jaw clenched so painfully he could taste blood. Had he bitten his cheek or was he merely tasting what was to come? Even as he held Tamlin’s tongue, forcing the High Lord into silence, Rhys thought it wasn’t enough. This was merely a show to the five others watching what he was capable of should they test him.

Should they insult his mate, his wife, his life. Feyre was visibly shaken, freckles stark against her gray face. Her eyes were too bright and if he really parsed through the mingling scents of the room, he knew he’d smell salt gathering in the corners. Tamlin had succeeded in undermining her at her first meeting, at the first test of power and everyone knew it. Weakness wasn’t tolerated among High Lords and they’d be circling her like vultures now, looking for more cracks.

Rhys could kill them all. His eyes flicked toward Beron Vanserra, brown eyes locked firmly on Feyre. It was a dark impulse and yet…if they wanted to test him, he’d destroy all six of them and leave their territories in ruins as their ruthless courtiers fought and killed for power. He’d let them eat themselves alive and then sweet in benevolently and take all of Prythian for Feyre. He’d lay waste to the world and set all that power at her feet.

Did they not know what Rhys would do to keep the ones he loved safe? Happy? Rhys kept Tamlin’s tongue silent for the duration of the meeting with barely a second thought. But there, in the darkest recesses of his mind—the part Feyre never ventured, in part because she didn’t think to—Rhys knew what needed to happen next. And he knew how he’d justify it when the other High Lords came to him, furious and fearful.

Tamlin had opened the gates for Hybern. He was a traitor to them all. That’s what he’d say, anyway. Some of them might guess the true reasons—Helion, certainly, who had very loud fantasies about doing worse to Beron than Rhys intended to do to Tamlin. And some might not care very much at all so long as they were reassured they were in no danger. Tarquin and Thesan, certainly, would know he was a liar and not care—Tarquin especially. Though he wasn’t fond of either Rhys or Feyre, his anger for Tamlin burned so hot that Rhys had been able to feel it in the back of his throat.

Tamlin’s foolishness had cost him more lives than Tarquin was able to count. He wanted to see Tamlin punished, too, and couldn’t for the same reason none of them could—they were forbidden from interfering in the matters of other High Lords. Rhys simply didn’t care. Stalking the halls, he listened until he found Tamlin’s pathetic thoughts.

Where did you go? Feyre’s voice floated through his thoughts, her presence caressing his own as she asked for entrance.

Rhys had never once refused her, but he did then. Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll be back before you can miss me.

Rhys, her voice carried a warning, some of the sleepiness gone. Whatever you’re thinking—don’t. Come back to bed.

I can’t.

It was the truth. They could insult him. Call him a whore, a bastard, evil, Amarantha’s right hand—whatever they liked. Rhys didn’t care. Even if they said it in front of his family in their attempt to humiliate him, Rhys didn’t care. Let them say whatever they liked about him.

But how dare they say a word against Feyre. She was the reason they were able to speak freely at all. If Rhys had his way, they’d get on their knees and worship her like a goddess, not taunt her like she was lesser.

Rhys!

Maybe it was better to let her see—not to shut her out, but to invite her into his mind. To let her see the lengths he’d go. He’d promised her he’d do this once, didn’t he? That he’d hurt anyone who hurt her and he’d take his time doing it. He’d enjoy it.

As Rhys turned the handle to Tamlin’s door, he dropped his defenses so Feyre could slip in. He could feel her peering through his eyes, settling softly just behind his eyes. Her presence was a comfort, reassuring him that this was the right thing to do.

Rhys found Tamlin standing by a window, hands folded behind his back. When Rhys slipped inside, Tamlin turned, green eyes glowing brightly for just a moment.

“Have you come to gloat?” Tamlin asked, teeth sharpening ever so slightly.

“Not exactly,” Rhys replied, jamming his own hands in his pockets.

Tamlin sighed, eyes rolling in his skull. “Have you come to defend your mates honor? Spare me—she has none.”

The hair on Rhys’s neck stood on end.

Don’t, Feyre pleaded softly, her voice a shade too high pitched for his liking. He’s not worth it.

“She’s the reason you’re standing here,” Rhys reminded Tamlin, forcing himself to remain calm. If he alerted Tamlin to his plan, he wouldn’t get to say everything he needed to say. “You owe her your life.”

“I’ve given her enough—”

“You’ve given her nothing,” Rhys snarled, his magic swirling around him like furious vipers. Tamlin didn’t blink, didn’t blanche, thinking incorrectly that Rhys was all talk and no action.

“Are you angry about what I said or angry I had her first?” Tamlin spat, a fool to the very end.

“When I found her locked in your home, it was only her love for you that spared you. I would have ripped you apart piece by piece otherwise.”

Tamlin turned back to the window. “She’ll betray you, too. Feyre isn’t capable of loving anything or anyone but herself and her power.”

Rhys’s stomach twisted in knots.

“She died for you. For that love.”

“And I tried to make it up to her—”

“You locked her away like a trinket!” Rhys snarled again as Feyre pushed closer against him, talons stroking against his mind lovingly. “You were satisfied to let her waste away so long as she warmed your bed at night. If that’s love, well. I’d say I shudder to think what your hatred feels like, but I am intimately aware of how hateful you can be.”

Tamlin only sighed. “When she leaves you—and she will—I’ll be waiting for your apology.”

Rhys raised a hand as Feyre gasped softly in his mind, understanding right then what he truly intended to do. Tamlin, too, realized the danger he was in. It was too late. Immobile, Tamlin’s eyes widened as Rhys cocked his head to the side.

“You can wait for that apology in the afterlife and we’ll see, when I arrive, who was right.”

“Rhys—!” Feyre burst into the room a mere second before Rhys snapped his fingers. Blood sprayed through the room, coating not just his skin, but Feyre’s too. Where Tamlin had once stood, now there were merely the remnants of a male who’d lived a pathetic half life unworthy of memorial.

Feyre turned, still in her silken nightdress, eyes wide. “You…”

Rhys didn’t dare back down, though he felt a sliver of genuine fear. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t…you didn’t…” Her eyes welled with tears as she approached him. Raising a hand, Rhys flinched, expecting her to slap him. Maybe that’s what he deserved.

Soft fingers caressed his jaw. “Thank you,” she whispered. Rhys exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You’re not angry?” he asked carefully, eyes darting around the room. There was something delicious about his mate soaked in the blood of his greatest enemy. He wanted to strip her naked and lick her clean.

“No one has ever had me,” she whispered, inching closer. The scent of her arousal slammed into him, nearly knocking him to the floor. “Not like you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Just the knowledge that she could see his worst, ugliest impulses and still love him for it was enough. Rhys needed her right then, so badly he was unwilling to even make the walk back to their shared bed chamber. She knew it, too.

Feyre surged upward on her tiptoes, their mouths crashing in a symphony of heat. Rhys groaned, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him.

“I need you,” he told her, unable to add that what he needed was for her to confirm what he already knew to be true. They belonged together—he’d waited his whole life for her, would have waited centuries more. And it had all been worth it, in the end—to know it was her on the other end of all those sleepless nights, the years of misery, the loneliness that had plagued him. No one understood him the way she did, had ever truly looked at his very soul and found it beautiful rather than horrifying.

“You have me,” she told him, arching her neck so he could scrape his teeth against her soft, sensitive skin. “I’m never leaving.”

What would she say if she realized he wouldn’t let her leave? That his hatred of Tamlin was almost unjustified because Rhys understood why someone would want to lock her away and keep her all for themselves. Rhys felt the same urge, felt the same drive to snarl and snap at every male that dared to look at her without showing the proper reverence. They were too casual about her, didn’t venerate her the way they should. Feyre was more than just High Lady—she was a living goddess, the Cursebreaker herself.

“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, tongue licking a path down her throat to taste the blood adorning her skin like rubies. If Rhys had known she’d taste so good coated in another male's blood, he’d have killed Tamlin at their wedding. That scrap of silk was soaked and when Rhys ripped it away, he found the skin beneath stained red, too. Rhys needed her more than he needed anything else.

They’d condemn him for this. When they found the remnants of Tamlin, they’d smell his arousal and what he’d done atop the bits that remained. Rhys didn’t care—he hoped Tamlin’s soul lingered so he could watch how well Rhys fucked Feyre. And if Tamlin were still alive, Rhys might have told him that he’d fucked Feyre so thoroughly she had no memory of his pathetic attempts at satisfying her.

You were inadequate, Rhys wished he could say. The problem was always you and never her.

“I can hear your thoughts,” Feyre complained as Rhys sank to his knees. “Stop thinking about Tamlin and your witty comebacks.”

“I have so many things I didn’t get to say,” Rhys complained, pushing her gently against the very same bloodstained window Tamlin had been brooding beside mere minutes before.

“You can say them at his grave,” she reminded him.

“You’re so brilliant,” Rhys praised. “And beautiful. And you taste…”

He had his face between her legs as he spoke the words, raising one slim leg to hook it over his shoulders. Feyre exhaled, leaning her head back so her thick hair spilled over her shoulders, the tips teasing peaked, rosy nipples.

Rhys almost stood back up but Feyre, the clever thing, pushed his head back down. “Focus,” she whispered. He’d forgotten she was still in his mind, listening to his thoughts and watching through his eyes.

“Can you feel how badly I want you?” he whispered, letting his breath curl like shadows against her wet cunt.

“Yes,” she panted, nails scraping over his scalp.

Rhys let go of his power, drowning the two of them in darkness. His wings flared outward, enveloping the both until she was hidden from the world unless someone happened to be flying by the window her ass was pressed against. Feyre moaned loudly, unconcerned about anyone else hearing. Good. Rhys wanted her screams to echo off the vaulted ceilings, to keep them all awake. Let them hear—let them know how far Rhys would take it. That the true power in his home was Feyre herself.

Feyre was High Lady and Rhys was her sharpened blade.

Rhys licked up the side of the thigh, cleaning the blood before switching to the other. Feyre was practically trembling by the time he reached her center, the taste of copper mingling with the sweetness of her arousal. Rhys reached upward, using his strength to hold her so she could relax and, perhaps selfishly, so he could spread her further apart. He liked to see her flushed pink with arousal, liked to tease her with his fingers without wholly penetrating her. He wanted her desperate for his cock by the time he finished with her. Rhys teased her with his thumbs, pulling her cunt apart to rub her clit with his fingers and his tongue while Feyre writhed over him, gripping his hair so roughly she was in danger of ripping them out by the roots. Rhys was so aroused it was making him stupid, the throbbing between his legs almost painful.

But he needed to do this. Needed her to see him on his knees before her, worshiping her the way the rest of the world refused to. Besides, the taste of her was soothing something wicked and angry in his chest, calming the raging beast threatening to go on a rampage.

Feyre’s breath hitched in her chest, her free hand coming to his shoulder to stroke the edge of his wing just the way he liked. He didn’t need her to touch his cock at all to come—if she kept her cunt in his face and her hands on his wings Rhys would be spent before he ever had her grinding against him.

Still, Rhys began to work faster, tongue flat against her just the way he knew she liked. Feyre began rolling her hips against him, her orgasm building. Ride her through it—that’s all he had to do, now. Rhys liked when she used him like this, taking her pleasure without concern as to what he thought about her. Daring to press into her mind, Feyre’s arousal slammed into him with enough force to nearly knock him on his ass.

Her thoughts were a mindless chant of one word—Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys, Rhys—

If he hadn’t been so turned on, he might have wept. Unwilling to disappoint her in the final moments before she fell over that ledge, Rhys doubled his efforts, looking up as he licked her to watch her come. Feyre was radiant, glowing like silvery moonlight as she fell apart. Head thrown back, breasts arched toward the ceiling and her skin flushed, Rhys wished he could paint so she could see herself the way he did.

“Stop,” she panted, fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face. “I can hear you, I—”

“I need you,” was all he could manage to say. He could have laid her out on the bed if he’d wanted to, taken his time. But Rhys didn’t want to. He wanted her right then, right now, and he’d have her against that window or not at all.

Feyre clawed at his clothes, drawing forth a talon to slice open his shirt. Rhys didn’t want to think about the walk of shame the pair were going to have to undertake when they were finished. Perhaps he’d call Cassian and beg his friend for a favor and endure the inevitable teasing that would happen in the aftermath. It was well worth it—Rhys couldn’t wait to tell Azriel, Mor, and Cassian that he’d slaughtered Cassian. Unlike the rest of the ruling elite, his friends would find it funny.

“Now,” Rhys told Feyre, hoisting her up so her back was flat against the window. He offered no other warning before he slid his aching cock into her body. Rhys nearly lost himself, rutting into

Feyre like the animal Tamlin claimed he was without a care or concern for the female pressed against him. Her body gripped him so tightly, still convulsing from the orgasm he’d given her with his mouth.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Rhys whispered, biting gently against her shoulder. “Sometimes I think you were sent to destroy me.”

“You should have run from me, then,” Feyre replied as she raked her nails down his back.

“Dying at your hands would be a gift,” he said, half delirious from pleasure. All Rhys could focus on were his hips, thrusting hard enough that the window rattled in time behind them. His words were merely his unfiltered thoughts given voice because Rhys had never learned when to shut his mouth.

“There will be no death for you,” Feyre told him, lips gliding over his jaw. “Only me.”

Rhys shuddered, holding her so tightly against him he felt her ribs groan in protest. He needed her like he needed the air in his lungs, the sun on his skin, the wind on his wings. How had he managed so long without her? Rhys could barely remember that time before, the memories tinged gray with loss.

How much different would every horror have been if he’d had her at his side? If he knew she was at his back, bow pulled taut, gaze focused and lethal on his enemies? Rhys tried to imagine Feyre going up against his father, against Amarantha in the first war, against Tamlin and his family.

His breath stuttered at the image. Gods, they would have been unstoppable.

“Rhys,” Feyre breathed, holding his face so he had to look at her. “Come for me.”

Rhys was everything Tamlin accused him of being, but without any shame. He was fucking her like an animal because that was how Feyre liked it. She panted, nails clawing at his tattooed skin until the smell of his fresh blood mingled in the air. He was desperate and needed to feel her come again, wanted her wrapped so tight around his cock he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but wait until she released him.

Snaking a hand between them, Rhys rubbed circles over her clit—it took two, maybe three before Feyre cried out, allowing Rhys the pleasure of capturing the sound with his tongue and teeth.

Taste yourself, he ordered, thrusting into her with brutal efficiency. Feyre was pliant in his arms, her cunt just as tight as he’d hoped it would be and twice as wet. Rhys couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to, coming with a snarl so loud there was no way everyone in the hall didn’t hear him.

Rhys poured himself into her, half wishing something would take. He didn’t want to stop, even when he was spent, balls empty. He could have kept going if he took a minute to catch his breath.

Feyre, too, seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You’re so beautiful covered in blood,” she murmured, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes.

Rhys suddenly didn’t care if someone watched him carry Feyre naked through the palace. Fuck everyone.

“Come on,” he purred, pressing a soft kiss just beneath her ear. “Let's get you to bed.”

#feysand #okay im free #im gonna reward myself with pho for dinner tonight

104 notes · View notes

reallyromealone · 21 hours

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Title: visiting grandpa

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Haitani brothers

Fic type: story

Pairings: none

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, grandpa reader, fluff

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

"there's my little cabbages" an elderly man smiled as he sat on his engawa, the Haitani brothers always made a point to visit their grandpa at least once a month "we brought you that fancy coffee gramps!" Rindō said as they held gifts for the Old man, the Bonten executives always getting stuff on their trips and missions for their grandpa-- hell the house slippers the elderly man wore were 3000 dollars.

Though they didn't tell him that, the old man always fretting over them spending so much though this was the man who sacrificed everything to raise them so it was worth it.

Even moving from the country to Tokyo when their mom vanished to make sure they were cared for.

And now they cared for him.

"We got you some stuff too! I know those ladies at the market are all over your Haitani charm so we got you some cologne!" Ran said as the elderly man stood up and the three went inside, the house of every fond memory stored in one spot "I got you boys some treats, such a long trip" (name) said sweetly and on the table was the cupcakes the two would get as children after a week of school, same sprinkles and everything "you boys travelled so far, rest your bones" (name) said fondly and the two men smiled, feeling like they were children again and their grandpa was making dinner.

"So how is investing?" (Name) Asked curiously as they are his pride and joys, the elderly man even learning how to use a phone to talk to them more "ah, everything is great gramps!" They never told him their real jobs, they didn't want to break his heart so they lied.

"I'm so proud of you both, I put that wonderful photo on the wall you two sent me!" The old man pointed to a photo the two sent him while getting lunch "the sweet young woman next door helped me do that... She's single you know"

"Gramps!"

"What? You two are handsome young men and I want to see you two married!"

"In due time gramps... Rinny here has a boyfriend now and I'm looking around for a girlfriend" Rindō and Ran watched as their grandpa looked surprised and gestured to show a photo "you know, I was friends with a gay when I was younger!" The two smiled at their grandpa's gesture of showing his support "he is a handsome young man! You bring him next time"

"Of course gramps"

"Now finish your fish"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #bonten x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #x male reader #grandpa reader

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suashii · 2 days

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— 𝒷𝒶𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝓅𝓊𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 ౨ৎ

haitani rindou x reader. 1.3k w.c. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au-ish :3 ﾉ just some rindou lovin' ﾉ repost!

it’s been a while since you've been out with your friends. can you really call them that, though? they are classmates at the very least, ones that feel compelled to invite you to their gatherings. it’s thoughtful, you’ll give them that, but part of you wishes they didn’t. maybe the outing is just boring or maybe they have all grown dull, but either way, it’s easy to zone out in their presence. their chatter seems distant. you don’t even really know what they’re talking about—something regarding everyone’s plans for this saturday.

“what about you?” the girl beside you nudges your ribs to gain your attention—and it works. the jab is surprisingly painful given how small she is. “can you make it?”

“sorry, i already have plans with someone else.”

“aww,” she whines at your answer, “who are you hanging out with? maybe they can tag along.”

“rindou.”

all the idle chatter at the table stops upon the mere utterance of his name. suddenly, all eyes are on you. he’s popular, but not for the right reasons. not many people are fond of him. and you never minded that, but the people who dislike him don’t just dislike him; they’re afraid of him. so although you have no problem associating yourself with him, you’ve learned quickly that bringing him up around others often leads to unsavory reactions. you slipped up at this moment.

“you mean… haitani rindou?”

“mhm.” you’re aware of the common consensus when it comes to rindou and what people think of him, but you want to test the waters and see how your peers perceive him. “why? what’s wrong with him?”

the replies flood in like a tsunami.

“he only hangs out with his brother and you know how much trouble ran is.”

“yeah, they’re total scumbags. i’m pretty sure they’ve almost gotten arrested—and on multiple occasions at that.”

“you’re perfectly capable of surrounding yourself with better company. why on earth would you want to be seen with him?”

“that’s really none of your concern.” the last comment strikes a nerve and causes you to raise your voice. shocked eyes accompanied by gaping mouths stare at you in surprise. you don’t know why you expected their responses to be any different. everyone jumps to the same conclusion and they aren’t an exception. their feelings about him are crystal clear. if they think so poorly of him, they have no place in your life. “and i’d rather not talk to you guys if you’re going to continue to speak about him like that. i’m leaving now.”

and with that, you stand up, collect your things, and start on your way home.

• • •

rindou is in the kitchen when you walk through the door. a head of blonde hair sits at the small table, slurping up ramen noodles. the steam wafting from the bowl leaves the lenses of his gold-framed glasses foggy. your keys clatter when they meet the ceramic of the dish that holds little things like chapstick and mini box cutters. the noise grabs rindou’s attention, his gaze abandoning his food in favor of looking at your figure that approaches to take a seat next to him. he didn’t think he would see you back so soon; it felt like you had just left. but he doesn’t say a word, instead, offering you the noodles hanging from his chopsticks. you lean forward to accept the mouthful of spicy ramen. every other bite of what remains in the bowl is reserved for you.

you stay attached to his hip for the rest of the day; helping him wash the dishes even though it’s your least favorite chore, sitting in his lap and snuggling into his neck as he boots up his computer to play who knows what game with his friends—you even go as far as getting comfortable on the lid of the toilet while he takes his shower for the night. it isn’t unusual for you to take care of his hair once he emerges from the steamy room, combing out the tangled strands of blonde and blue before pulling out the hair dryer. after the locks are fluffy and dry, his hair sits in a neat bun on the top of his head. the only pieces that escape are the ones not quite long enough to be tied up with the rest.

you wonder if your actions came off as overbearing; not that you would care if they did. the conversation from earlier reminded you of how poorly people regarded your boyfriend. someone has to love him when everyone else thinks so little of him, and you’re more than happy to be that person.

and you’re content at the moment, practically lying on top of him, your fingers tracing each curve of the black ink tattooed into his skin. you can feel the thumping of his heart, hear the rhythmic beat of it in your ear.

“what’s wrong?” rindou speaks up out of the blue. so then he had noticed the shift in your behavior.

“what do you mean?” you feign ignorance. you know rindou was fully aware of his reputation, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to shield him from the harshness of others.

“you’re even clingier than usual.”

“i’m not clingy,” you mumble against his chest.

“mm, yeah, you are.” he pinches your cheek that isn’t pressed against him. it doesn’t hurt but you look up at him regardless. lilac eyes peer down at you. the blank expression on his face may not show it, but his gaze is enough to tell you that he’s concerned. “are you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

rindou isn’t the type to push you, to make you tell him something you aren’t ready to tell. if you told him you didn’t want to talk about it, you were sure he’d let it go. but since it’s weighing so heavily on your mind, maybe it is best to share. “i brought your name up in front of some classmates and they said some pretty rude stuff about you.”

he snorts as if what you were worried about was silly. and to him, it is. it doesn’t bother him—the wandering eyes, the hushed whispers, the anxious avoidance. everything that you seem to be hyperaware of is the norm for rindou. and he can understand why it upsets you, he wouldn’t want people speaking ill of you, but he’s accustomed to his bad reputation. “i thought i told you not to let stuff like that get to you. you know i don’t give a shit about what people think.”

“well, i do.” maybe you shouldn’t, not to the extent you do, anyway. but after getting to know rindou, the real rindou, you can’t help but feel offended when people reduce him to nothing more than a no-good criminal. sure, he isn’t a saint, but he’s far from evil. what gave them the right to form opinions when they only got a glimpse of one side of him? “they shouldn’t get to judge you if they don’t even know you.”

he lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh, the breath heaving from his chest causing your head to raise. though, not long after, his lips find their way to your hairline, pressing a light kiss to the skin. his hand runs up and down your arm, “it doesn’t matter how often i tell you, huh?”

“nope.” you shamelessly reply. you’ll never stand for people demeaning the man you’ve come to love.

“how stubborn,” he clicks his tongue. it’s clear that this was a matter he won’t be able to change your mind on. of course, he doesn’t care what people think about him, but seeing you so protective of him and his image is oddly endearing. “so what, are you my defender or something?”

“mhm,” you hum, letting your eyes drift shut, “now and always.”

thanks for reading! pls consider reblogging or commenting if u enjoyed :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: tokyo revengers #rindou x reader #haitani rindou x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou fluff #tokrev fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #rindou drabble #tokrev drabbles #tokyo revengers drabbles

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venturelovebot · 2 days

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A/N: I kinda wanted to write something like this for a while but I never really got around to it so thank you for this request! Link to request is here! Doing this one first because it's head canons and the rest of the requests are fics, so it's easier to do this one first!

Premise: Married & domestic life headcanons + proposal headcanons!

Warnings: None! Pure cavity inducing fluff!

♡ "I think you might like this one!" They could barely contain themself just giving it to you.

♡ You hold the smooth, cold stone in your hands before opening the cracked halves to reveal beautiful, twinkling purple crystals inside.

♡ It was like staring into a little piece of outer space– but then you see it.

♡ Inside the geode was the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen.

♡ You were speechless. A grin widens on your face from ear to ear as your face turns ruby red.

♡ "Oh my God..." We're the first words to leave your mouth.

♡ You're extra careful not to drop anything, but you have to sit down, you couldn't believe what was happening to you.

♡ "[Y/N]..."

♡ Sloan kneels in front of you.

♡ "Whenever it comes time to unearth our bodies far in the future, I want them all to see just how much I loved you when I was alive."

♡ "But even then, they probably wouldn't know a fraction of it..."

♡ "There are no words in any language– alive or dead– that could describe how much I love you. Even if there was, there would not be enough room to describe it on the tomb we shared together."

♡ "So, I have to make the most of it while we're both still alive. Only you will ever know how much I truly love you."

♡ "Will you marry me?"

♡ Once again you find that your words have failed you. You're crying tears of pure happiness, barely able to contain the joy that resonated inside of you.

♡ All that comes out is a very meek "Yes!"

♡ They put the ring on your left finger and it fits perfectly.

♡ "It looks wonderful on you."

♡ You lunge to embrace them and they happily wrap their arms back around you, holding you as all of your emotions spill out on their shirt.

♡ "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

♡ When they weren't traveling, Sloan enjoys spending their time at home with you.

♡ In fact, they almost prefer it to traveling at this point. It would be a lot better if they could take you with them but they know that's not always possible.

♡ A lot of exploring can be exhausting and even dangerous, and the last thing they ever want to do is put you in harms way.

♡ Definitely loves to take you to the safer places they find, though!

♡ Randonauting also never died out for them. It's arguably safer than exploring decrepit, dark caves as well. Especially when you have somebody that's used to traversing around randomly.

♡ You both do an equal amount of cooking and cleaning to ensure your living space does not end up a jumbled mess like their workspace is.

♡ Their favorite thing to do with you is... basically everything. As long as it was with you, it was always worth doing in their eyes.

♡ They particularly enjoy cuddling up with you and reading the same book together. If you were tired they'd happily read it to you, instead.

♡ You keep encouraging them to start a reading podcast because you loved listening to them so much. You couldn't imagine other people not enjoying it, too.

♡ Rosetta now has a permanent home as well. You even bought them a tiny pillow to rest on like the royalty they are.

♡ Kisses you good morning and good night every single day. The only time they can't is when they're away, so they always make sure to call you instead.

♡ Their love language is physical touch so they're always clinging on to you regardless of what you're doing.

♡ Folding laundry? Holding you. Washing dishes? Holding you. Laying in bed? Holding you. Talking on the phone? Holding you. Just standing around doing absolutely nothing? Arms are wrapped lovingly around your waist, guaranteed.

♡ Spoils you to no end. Sloan always wants to make sure you feel special every day of your life, so they're always doing their best to make you feel like royalty even on your worst days.

♡ Even though you're married you still go out on dates. Even if it was just walking around in the local park holding hands, they just love spending time with you.

♡ Always low key shows you off to everyone. They're just so proud to have you as a spouse! They need other people to know how special you are to them.

♡ Definitely somewhat possessive, so they always have to be near you at all times to make sure no one tries to steal what is rightfully theirs. Probably definitely channeling jealous Peter lmfao,,,

♡ Not that you would ever do that to them, of course, but it's just apart of the deal at this point. Sometimes you wonder if they were a lost puppy in a previous life.

♡ Even after a couple of years into the marriage, it feels like it all just happened yesterday. You both never really left the honeymoon phase.

♡ Never once gets sick of your presence. Loves waking up to you and falling asleep to you and knowing you're right there beside them.

♡ Always mentions how beautiful you are just like the day they first saw you– and they mean it. It doesn't matter if you ever show signs of aging! They will always see you as a perfect ten.

♡ The concept of children has come up once or twice in the years you've been together.

♡ Ultimately they left it up to you. If you wanted children, great! If you didn't, that was alright, too.

♡ If you decided you did want children they would be more than happy to take a couple years (yes, years) off of work to help start a family life with you.

♡ They were more than confident that the Wayfinders Society could handle themselves while they were gone.

♡ Speaking of the Wayfinders– they were more than thrilled to have a mini Venture joining the team! They were the best godparents anyone could ever ask for.

♡ They even had a little jacket prepared for them with the logo on it and everything. You were both absolutely thrilled!

♡ Spoils you to no end while you're going through your pregnancy– if you thought they spoiled you before... oh no. Just you wait and see. You truly have no idea.

♡ Almost literally did not let you lift a finger the entire nine months.

♡ Painted the nursery yellow just like their favorite color and ultimately went with a dinosaur theme– even though that was "paleontology, not archeology. Dinosaurs are still cool, though."

♡ Honestly you thought they were going to be one of those parents who fainted in the delivery room but no, they were really encouraging and comforting the entire time you were in labor.

♡ Couldn't stop crying once the baby was born. Obviously let you hold them first, and then when it was their turn they started crying again.

♡ Really, really, really wanted to name the baby after some important historical figure so you allowed them with the exception that it also sounded somewhat normal for todays society.

♡ If the baby was a boy then they decided on Alexander. If the baby was a girl then they decided on Athena– but ultimately if they decided to change their name later in life they would accept that, too.

♡ You got to decide the middle name, and to go along with their Greek themed first name you chose 'Cyprus' as their middle one. Alexander/Athena Cyprus Cameron.

♡ They were just so happy. You had given them everything they ever wanted and more– there is truly no better gift in life than you and their newborn child were. No treasure in the world was more precious than the two of you.

♡ They were certain of that.

#AAAAAAAAAHHHH I COULD NOT STOP SMILING WHILE WRITING THIS #overwatch #overwatch 2 #sloane cameron #sloan cameron #venture x reader #venture x you #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you

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marmorafarms · 2 days

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Hello, it's me. And I'm here to bring you some opinions on Laios being bi! These opinions are based in my own experience as a bi person, and also from the manga itself!

We know Laios is interested in women because it's been said in the adventurer's bible that he met the woman he was once engaged to, and did think she was good looking. But he chose to run away from home, so that didn't end up working out. Still though, the take away is that he has some attraction to women.

As for men, this one isn't super obvious. Most people would probably think it's just shippers that think he's bi, and that's entirely possible. But there's an interesting interaction that I'd like to draw your attention to.

The first thing is something I've shown before. Laios and Chilchuck spotted Kabru, and assumed he was a monster. Laios went to investigate, and one of his theories was succubus.

However! He did the same thing with another man! Who? Uh. Well...

Again, he goes to succubus. Both times he's presented with a man who might be a mimic type, he goes to succubus. He realizes he's wrong, but THEN he says something that really gave me pause.

None of them know him, so he can't be a succubus! Why does that give me pause? He's so casual the way he says it, and reminds me a lot of myself before I realized what 'bi' even meant. I assumed everyone was attracted to both men and women.

The people in the room are Chilchuck, Senshi, Laios, and Izutsumi. He didn't tack on "and he's a man" to the succubus part, or say something about how only Izutsumi could possibly have him as a succubus. Laios just accepts that everyone in the room might be attracted to men, or find men desirable in some way. I think Laios likes men, and thinks that it's a feeling that everyone experiences.

Maybe this all really far fetched, but it seems to me like Laios is aware and comfortable with the fact that a succubus could appear to him in the form of a man. In my personal opinion, Laios is bisexual!

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #laios #laios dungeon meshi

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ashdreams2023 · 2 days

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Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

#imagine #pro severus snape #severus snape x y/n #platonic severus snape x reader #severus snape fanfiction #severussnape #harry potter requests #severus snape headcanon #severus x reader #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader #severus #severus snape #snapedom #pro severus

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loveriwoo · 1 day

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hii ! i was wondering a first time 18+ w taesan would be like.. how we would be reacting and more 😵‍💫

MDNI - omgomg I cannot stop thinking about this too recently,,

you both were already lost in the moment whilst making out with eachother for a good while now, it’s already so hot, so steamy from how close you were with eachother, practically you both were one from how close your bodies were as taesan cannot stop touching down your thighs which just made your mood skyrocket, the feeling of lust and love was all in the air,, you both just really couldn’t leave your hands off eachother but none of you would stop to ask to go further.. as much as taesan wanted to ask you how bad he wanted to make you feel good in so many other ways, he still felt a tint of shyness as it is going to be your first time doing so together and he didn’t know if your ready yet..

he breaks to kiss to breathe, still close to your face as you both hyperventilate you look at him with your needy puppy eyes as he understands and takes that as his sign to go further, you both don’t really communicate when sexual unless it’s a few sentences or words, he than pins you down to the bed, slowly kissing down your neck but you can tell he’s nervous,, after all it is his first time with you.

You slide your fingers through his hair its okay~ don’t be nervous dongmini.. you sigh out slightly as he then grows a bit of an ego to keep kiss down your body, reaching your thighs now he starts kissing around your inner thigh teasing you as he can feel you grow impatient and whine at him, he lets out a slight chuckle seeing how wet your pussy is mainly from the rough makeout session you both just had, he slowly slides your panties to the side and feels your wetness with his finger, rubbing up and down causing you to bite your lip, feeling your warmth on his finger he looks up at you can I? You then nod as an answer.

He sits up to take his pants down while his eyes keep looking at you, you just throw a soft smile at him incase he’s still feeling nervous, he gets closer to you while leaning forward as he slowly puts it in as he looks at you making sure you aren’t hurt, you both leave audible moans, you hold onto his back as he keeps going slow hoping he’s not rushing through it but the tightness feeling of your walls around his dick causes him to want to crazy fuck you already. He holds back as you’re moaning and grabbing onto him, letting him do whatever he wants although you both feel a little awkward in a sense that you both don’t know what you want, he looks into your eyes for an answer, practically panting already as you just whisper to him ‘mm.. faster.. he then understood that and starts going a little faster on you, gosh it felt so good for the both of you ‘though he’s the type to focus on how good he’s making you feel.

He becomes way more vocal when he’s about to finish, letting you know so he also makes you finish with him, he loves doing so mutually with you. Ah fuck.. ‘m gonna cum. He looks at you as you nod mumbling ‘same’ looking at how needy you look he then starts rubbing your clit hoping it’ll make you cum faster since he was also on his last string. It felt so magical and loving having him stuff you up, his sweat is dripping from his face onto your collarbone, he just stays in the same position for a little to catch his breath, slowly pulling out he grabs the towel from the bedside table and helps you clean up. you did so well for me baby.. he whispers tucking your hair behind your ear before cuddling you up ‘I want to make you feel more like this later on..

#boynextdoor #bnd #taesan #han dongmin #han taesan #fanfic #smut #kpop #bonedo #bnd x reader #boynextdoor x reader #bnd imagines #kpop imagines #bnd smut

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homeofatlas · 2 days

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Maybe We're Both Chasing Ghosts

Summary: You and Elisa break up and long for each other.

Auhors note: yall i know i said i was gonna write the other one first..........im so sorry, hope ur in the mood for some angst tho

WC: 2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Letting go has never been easy for you. You never learned how to give up, concede, or when it was time to let something go. Especially when someone is the love of your life.

You’re going crazy. Plain and simple you’ve started seeing things. The side table lamp Elisa always used to have on in the living room when she was up late is on when it’s just you in the apartment, her figure walking around the corner, the smell of her as you walk past the door to the balcony. Everything you do reminds you of when she was here. Everywhere you go there's a woman with the same colour hair or skin tone and there’s a colleague who’s expression reminds you of the way Elisas brows furrowed when she was confused. It all makes your stomach hurt to look at and yet you never look away. You’ll hurt as long as you get a chance to see a part her again.

You know Elisa was doing what she thought was best for both of you. The constant near misses with communication. How far apart you always felt even when you were right next to each other. The stretches you’d go without talking and when you did it felt forced and stilted. Nothing like the beginning when the silence had been because you both were quieter people and enjoyed simply basking in each other's presence. There were times when it had felt like you almost had what you used to have back before it would slip away again. The silences which would drag out seconds too long.

Maybe it started when you felt like you were overwhelming her, maybe it started when she stopped looking for you first in a crowded room, maybe it was over the second you were finally comfortable. It seems to be a running theme in your life, “Nothing gold can ever stay.” What you won’t admit to as a non religious person is the day before she told you it was for the better to walk away, you asked the moon to keep her. I’ll do anything, just let me keep her. You pleaded and yet no one listened.

She’s your best friend even though you haven't spoken in months. Three months, two weeks and four days if you were counting. She knows you inside and out, from the food you don’t like to how you appreciate actions more than words. What gets you is the way she knew everything about you and you knew everything about her and none of it was enough to prevent this.

As the winter months begin to creep in and the wind nips at your cheeks again you feel the weight of her absence more than ever. You never realised you’d become conditioned to having an arm slung around your shoulder until the first time you shivered in a group of friends and a weight hadn’t overcome you to pull you into her side. When you’d been cold and no one had grabbed your hands to warm them up and kissed either side of your cheeks to make you smile and blush. Something in you had felt incomplete without nagging Elisa to put on an extra sweater as you went out because it’ll be cold and you are only human no matter what you say about being super hot Elisa. The way you’d looked up the hall to see whether or not she was coming and then remembered no one was there and there hadn’t been for a while.

Her ghost hangs heavy in the side of the couch she always used to lay on with the pillow she liked and in the weight of the pan she used to cook almost every meal (the handle feels different like it’s been melded to her hand exactly). Since she left you’ve been missing a part of you. Date your best friend, they say, it’ll be amazing. It was, you wouldn’t give a second of it for anything but this type of pain makes you understand why they call it heartbreak. You feel as though you’ve been split in two and are missing a limb. You’d never been a child who’d cried for their parents and when you’d moved to Europe for schooling you’d never looked back but now at 26 you were learning what it felt like to be home sick.

Elisa pov:

She’d fucked up. She didn’t know loneliness could be so all encompassing. She’s tried to fill her days with training and exercise and then going out with friends and calling her family “just because she wants to talk.” All of it is to keep her from stopping and thinking about you. The way she’s become less of a whole while still being one person. Half of her is missing. She can’t explain it without sounding like she’s co dependant but she couldn’t tell where she ended and you began.

Something is missing.

Scratch that.

Everything is missing.

A part of her is empty.

And she knows she’s got no one to blame but herself. Instead of talking to you, she’d decided the connection you’d had was too good to be true. Of course it was, how can something so romantic exist in real life? It doesn’t. Except it does, the little voice in her heart whispers, you had it. She’d seen it, she’d felt it, she’d tasted it. Had it in the palm of her hand and let it slip away.

The ache is eating away at her. A dull pulsing in her head constantly, she keeps herself exhausted to the point of falling straight into bed when she gets back to her apartment. It’s hard to call it home anymore without your perfume lingering in the air anymore. Your chapsticks stashed in various drawers through the apartment are gone. All the lights are off when she comes back. The place is empty. She’s empty.

She’d taken down all the photos and traces of you left around and put them in a box hoping it would help her heal faster. All it does is test her willpower to not empty the tubes of chapstick trying to touch something your lips have been on. No matter what she does, the quiet keeps creeping in. She can’t outrun the itch beneath her skin. The ache in her bones that never seems to fade. The feeling in her gut screaming something isn’t right. The quiet used to be her sanctuary now it’s suffocating without you to smile at her from across a room or squeeze her shoulder as you pass by.

She simultaneously feels invisible and like she sticks out like a sore thumb in every room she’s in. She’s not meant to be there. She’s meant to be next to you. But now you’re standing on the other side of the change room laughing at a joke she hasn’t heard, hasn’t told and something in her is coiling. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen when it snaps.

Jackie is helping you put your necklace back on and it shouldn’t bug her but it does. She’s hot and this room is too small. She knows it’s not like that but when Jackie brushes your hair to one side, a tad unnecessary if she gets a say, she has to tear her gaze away. Putting your necklaces back on after practice used to be her job. The small moment of quiet intimacy is what she’d wait all day for. When it felt like nothing else in your relationship was working, she’d always had that at the end of the day. Her fingers brushing the nape of your neck, the brush of your hair to your side, a smile creeping onto her face. If no one else was in the room she’d kiss the back of your neck and wrap her arms around you from behind. You’d stand there basking in each other's presence until you were ready to let go.

She’s fuming someone has taken her place, although not really and if someone has taken her place as your partner, her stomachs turns and she might be sick at the thought. A small voice calls out within her, be gentle with her.

She needs to get out of here asap. She’ll call her mom on the drive home, then go for a run, then pick up groceries when she gets back, she should really call her brother soon and see what he’s been working on lately, maybe there's a game on tonight she can catch- anything to keep her from thinking about you and this and how she’s fucked up.

Cause here’s the thing, even when you’d stopped texting her when you got home and when slowly less and less clothes of yours were appearing in her laundry, you’d never stopped being in sync on the pitch. Always anticipating the others' moves before she did it herself. It was infuriating to know you almost had it all. That’s what happens when you know everything about a person, every habit, every movement, she knows she could pick you out of a room of people just by how you breathe.

By the time she gets home from her post practice run she’s too tired to make dinner. She’ll order it in, making a deal with herself that she’ll walk to go pick it up. One of the things that most endeared her to you in the beginning was the willingness to break your nutrition plans laid out by the staff. Technically you were allowed to eat what you wanted but some foods were heavily discouraged. Such as pasta with a ton of carbs and no vegetables, which happened to be your favourite meal.

Slipping her shoes on and beginning the walk down to the italian place you loved to have date nights in she remembers all the times you'd made the walk together. She tries to not think about you and keep herself busy. The key word is tries because about 95% of the time she fails at it. A part of her hopes she’ll walk in to pick up her order and you’ll be there too. Hearts, stomachs, and feet falling in sync together once more. Please, she turns her eyes upward, let me get what I want this once.

Despite her quick checks around the restaurant and toward the bathroom and her dragging out the process longer than she needs to just in case you showed up, she resigns herself to a life of loneliness. Lost her thoughts she pulls the door open as someone pushes in and they stumble into her.

“Oh my god i’m so sorry-”

Your eyes turn upwards and meet hers. You both suck in sharp breaths chests in sync as they push against each other. Your eyes lock and the tension is almost unbearable but pretending like you don’t know each other is the most unbearable thing that could happen. Her hand, which came up to stabilise you, rests on your arm. Her thumb twitches to flick up and rub soothing circles right below your bicep.

If she gets a second chance she’s thinking now might be the time to act on it. She lets herself relax and smile at you, she can instantly feel the sigh of relief.

“Pretty sure this isn’t on your diet plan” She teases.

You smile challengingly up at her, “Pretty sure it isn’t on yours either.”

Your smiles are growing bigger by the second.

“Well,” She whispers and leans closer to you, dropping her voice to an octave where she knows only you’ll be able to hear her. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”

She knows what speaking low in a crowded room does to you, it’s no surprise when she feels you shiver against her. She wraps her hand around her bicep now, rubbing your arm up and down as if she’s heating you up, all an excuse to touch you again.

You lean in conspiratorially, “Okay your secrets safe with me.” Nodding to sell the act.

You both stand and stare because what are the chances? Maybe, you both think, I don't have to keep chasing your ghost.

#élisa de almeida #woso #elisa de almeida x reader #elisa de almeida #woso x reader #yall the others ones in progress #crossing my fingers i can finish it for next week

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vonrov · 18 hours

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Hi hi!!! I’ve got an idea if you’re interested!!

So the reader is an avid literature fan, and they really love Poe’s novels!! One day they meet him and Poe is confronted with the prospect that….. maybe he doesn’t need to keep writing just to possibly stump Ranpo one day…. Maybe he’s already an incredible author deserving of praise,, :’)

^ if that makes sense lol, but I’m super excited to see where your blog goes anyway!! Following immediately <33

a fan?

・ Poe x GN!Reader { Fluff ・ Warnings { None ・ Word Count { 1.3K ・ Masterlist { LINK

It all started when he met a fan. A fan. Someone devoted to his work, someone who enjoyed and loved his writing. He could remember the day like it had just happened. The feeling of his cheeks growing warm, as the tips of his ears reddened with the praise he sought for every time he tried to stump Ranpo with one of his stories.

He also remembers the way he fumbled with his coat and undershirt as the person in front of him would gush and ramble about the different scenes he wrote, the different characters he poured his own attributes into, as well as the attributes he wished he had. He listened with shaky fingers and an anxious feeling bubbling in his chest as they brought up the dialogue he would spend his time reading aloud over and over again until it felt right.

It would be in his next novel, he wrote a character into the ongoing plot who reminded him of the devoted fan he had met out on a walk to gain inspiration.

And inspiration he found.

Inspiration he found in you.

Whenever he felt stumped with his hobby he went on a walk. Down the street, take a right, and pass by that cafe he was always too scared to go into because of how deadpanned the barista looked in the mornings. It was the same route he had met you. Every time he went out on one of his brainstorming walks, he hoped that the two of you would cross paths again.

And like fate intended, that would happen on a random Tuesday about a month later.

The air was fresh with summer approaching as the trees were green with branches full of leaves. A slight breeze flowed about the city, the only thing reminding Poe about his need for a summer wardrobe change soon, as it kept him just cool enough to enjoy his stroll. He walked with his head down, holding a leather-bound book in his hands as he watched his shoes land against the pavement with audible clicks.

“Karl would have loved this weather, it’s a shame he was napping when I left.” He spoke to no one in particular.

“Karl is your pet raccoon, right?”

“Yes, he’s-” His voice got caught in his throat.

He was too lost in his own musings to notice you were right next to him, about to enter the cafe he would usually pass on his walks, clad in a uniform he’d seen somewhere before. It was almost humorous how quickly his expression had gone from deadpanned, deep in thought, to a somewhat frightened look of ‘holy fucking shit’ in a matter of seconds.

He blinked owlishly at you as you just looked at him with a smile.

“Do you come here often?” You pointed at the cafe’s entrance, a crooked smile stretching across your lips as you tried to relieve the awkward tension.

“Uhm- No, not particularly.” Liar. Even though hes never entered the cafe, that doesn’t mean he hadn’t walked past it almost every day when the weather was nice enough for the past three weeks.

“The sugar cookies here are really nice.”

“O-Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” You looked at the cafe doors before turning back to him. “I’ll be considered “late” for my shift,” You made air quotes with your fingers. “If I don’t get in there in a few minutes.”

“Go ahead then, I’ll have to stop by sometime when I can…”

So that’s where he knew that uniform from. His gaze flew to the window as he bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with the deadpan barista who was definitely watching them through the glass. The uniform the barista wore behind the counter was the same as the one you were currently wearing. He looked back at you before speaking, his voice quiet with apprehension.

“Are you guys pet-friendly…?”

Once he had gotten confirmation that the cafe was pet-friendly, for service animals only, he rushed off with the promise of bringing Karl with him on his next visit.

…

It was the next day he walked down the once new path turned familiar with his animal companion in tow. The weather was much like the day before, minus the pleasant breeze. But the heat did not deter Poe as he briskly walked. His shoes hitting the concrete with a familiar clack. Excitement was rolling off of him in waves at the thought of being able to meet up with this devoted fan of his after waiting for a chance to do so for the past few weeks.

“How can I help you?” A monotone voice spoke.

He didn’t realize he was already in the cafe, standing at the counter, Karl on his shoulder, ready to say hello, only for the person at the front counter to not be you.

Instead, it was that blank-faced barista who was always off-putting to Poe whenever he walked by the big windows of the cafe. He could always feel their stare on him when he paced the sidewalks day by day. Only now, he could see the stare and was standing before them instead of walking past the glass.

Well fuck. That’s certainly a way to flip Poe’s switch from 'fine' to 'not fine'.

“Uhm…” He had to say something. Maybe order something? Yeah, that would be a great way to cover up his ignorance of his surroundings. Karl chirped on his shoulder as the raccoon’s tiny clawed hands patted his head. Poe watched in worry as the barista’s gaze went from himself to the raccoon on his shoulder.

“Please tell me that is a certified service animal.” The barista’s tone was unreadable as their eyes moved back to Poe’s.

“Oh- Y-Yes, he is certified. Let me just…” Poe dug around in his coat, unraveling a few yellow-tinted folded-up papers from the depths of his inside pockets. Unfolding the documents and turning them around for the barista to see. He pointed to a few different places on the papers, explaining how Karl is a 100% certified service animal. “He’s a psychiatric certified service animal for anxiety.”

“I didn’t know raccoons could do that.”

“Me neither…”

…

Thankfully, he managed not to embarrass himself further as he sat down with a warm drink that he didn’t remember the name of and a large sugar cookie. There had been other options of course, but you had recommended the sugar cookie for a reason right?

Karl had jumped from his shoulder and rested in his lap when he had sat down. Not wanting to disturb the raccoon peacefully resting in his lap, his gaze shifted about the interior of the cafe, his eyes scanning over the bright pops of color highlighting the various white tables. The turquoise accent wall behind the counter is adorned with diverse eccentric artwork. His focus was broken when the ring of the bells over the door alerted him.

And to his surprise, you had walked in.

While he was hoping to see you, he wasn’t expecting you to show up, assuming you had the day off when he was met with the other barista behind the counter instead of you. He watched as your head swiveled around, making you seem like you were looking for something- or perhaps, someone with how your face lit up when you saw him.

His assumption was further confirmed once you had started walking over to his table. His eyes followed you as you walked over, his head turning as you now stood in front of his table instead of behind him by the door.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, not at all.” …

It took meeting a fan to realize something.

It took meeting a fan for him to realize that his novels impacted other people.

It took meeting a fan for him to realize, that maybe he didn’t need to write just to try and defeat Ranpo with another mystery novel.

Poe never even noticed his writing had even strayed from the mystery genre and played more with romance since writing in that new character about a month ago.

Authors Note: I actually cannot believe I managed to write all of those in one sitting. I genuinely think this is the first time I've been able to write over 1K words this easily. Whoever made it this far and is reading this, I need to know your thoughts on this.

I really loved writing this. My first time writing with Poe and while I was writing I decided to headcanon that Karl is a service animal because it makes sense. I hope I nailed his character and it isn't occ. There was something else I was gonna say but I cannot remember, it is 11:33 PM and I've worked on this for at least the past 2-3 hours and I gotta get up in the morning.

Comments and reblogs that tell me what you guys liked or little things that you noticed makes my day. My inbox is still open for recommendations, please check out my pinned post before you drop in though.

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 hours

Text

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

TW: angst, fighting, discussion of nsfw topics

The alcohol you ingested certainly does not help with your coordination. You nearly bump into several club-goers, as if you are a salmon struggling to make your way up stream. You feel as though you can’t breathe, your skin crawling on your bones.

Once you finally burst out the doors you gasp for breath, grateful for the outside, if not polluted, air. You do not stop moving, your feet mindlessly carrying you down the sidewalk, away. All you can think, is that you want to get away.

You don’t really pay attention to your surroundings in your manic dash. Julian’s face keeps flashing in your mind. Of all the men in your life who had hurt you, none of them had been half so beguiling as Julian. None of them so fucking clever at hiding the monster inside.

You have been a fly caught in his web, baited by his puppy dog eyes and his kindness in his doctor’s persona–you cannot understand how that man can share the same body with the dom who literally licked your blood from your palm earlier, and loved it. He lured you but now you know the only way you can be intimate with that man is through playing dangerous games with his darker side. Maybe some of them you could have enjoyed, but this? He would tease you with the crumbs of his sweetness, his kisses and caresses, but he would make you pay for them with your pain, your blood, and your submission.

It can only end in your ruin.

You would destroy yourself, trying to heal this man, while he just kept taking pieces out of you and swallowing them whole.

As your feet slow you look around, and you realize you have no fucking idea where you are.

Well done, you fucking little idiot. Filled with crippling despair, you sink to the cracked concrete curb, ruining the seat of your silk dress, hanging your head in your hands. Asking Julian to take you home is out of the question. You can’t really afford a taxi. You could call an Uber, but the thought of getting in a car with a total stranger right now makes you feel ill. And you are way too drunk to try to navigate the Byzantine bus system of LA.

You stare at your phone, and your fingers swipe and tap of their own volition, as though to say we know what to do, you messy bitch. The phone only rings twice before a familiar, deep voice comes over the line. “Hey baby.”

“Tom?”

“What’s wrong?”

The sleepy warmth in his tone immediately sharpens, and the fact that he hears the distress in your voice after just one word fills you with a relief that maybe you have no right to.

“Can you come get me?”

“Yes. Where are you?”

You laugh a little at that, a brittle sound you have not heard in your own voice in a long time. “I don’t know?” Your voice cracks, your throat tight, on the verge of tears. “I’m somewhere in Venice.”

There’s a silence on the other end that communicates he has an inkling of what you’ve been up to. “Are you hurt?” There’s an undertone of something dangerous in his question, but you don’t think it’s directed at you.

“No. Just…” Scared. Embarrassed. Stupid. Heartbroken. Drunk.

You can’t bring yourself to say any of these things aloud. You settle for, “Lost.”

It was the understatement of the century.

“Ok, honey. I’m on my way. Tell me what you see.”

You describe your surroundings as best you can, and it’s enough for this man who knows this city like the back of his hand. He has you stay on the line, asking you little questions you hardly even think about the answers you give. You’re in a different place, in your mind, and like the forever original creature that you are, you sit there and cry quietly while Tom tries to keep you talking. Meanwhile, you cannot stop picturing Julian’s face, the hunger in his eyes as he watched that poor girl being lit on fire.

By the time you hear the bass growl of Tom’s Charger swing up to the curb, you don’t know how long it’s been, only that you’re grateful for the sight. Moments later he’s kneeling in front of you, his big hands cradling your tear-streaked face like you are something precious and breakable.

At least the last part is true.

“Y/n? You ok, sweet girl?” He wipes your tears with his thumb, sweeping your damp hair back from your face. You can only imagine how terrible you must look. Waterproof mascara has its limits.

Bravely you nod, though your chin quivers tellingly. “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come for you, y/n,” he tells you with a frown, and goddammit if you don’t believe him. He’s looking you over, inspecting you for damage you’re too in shock or too embarrassed to disclose. When he finds the bandage on your hand his expression turns murderous. “What the fuck is this?”

“I cut myself,” you assure him, certain that if you don’t convince this dangerous man of the truth, Julian’s not days, but hours, are numbered. “With scissors. Opening a plant.”

Tom narrows his eyes, glaring down at the bandage like he’s not sure he believes you. “What happened then? Why are you out here alone like this?”

“Julian wanted to show me the club,” you try to answer as vaguely as possible. “But I…couldn’t handle it.” You shake your head, unable to meet his eyes. He wants to hurt you. Julian had outright told you so, but somehow before tonight, maybe you didn’t really believe him.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Tom asks, his voice low and pointedly gentle. You realize, a beat later, that he’s asking if you need a rape kit. You never imagined, for some reason, that this man could be as equally gentle with victims as he is harsh with perps. That warms your heart for some reason.

You shake your head slowly. “No, nothing like that.”

He searches your face with those sharp black eyes, and you imagine that stare is probably just as effective as a lie detector. You almost didn’t even register it, maybe because it feels so natural, but his hands are on you. His hands have been on you this entire time, and his touch makes you feel anchored, like just maybe you won’t get blown away in this shitstorm.

He looks at the matching bangles around your wrists next, the thin bands of gold bearing Julian’s monogram in that delicate slanted script.

“Fucking asshole, really thinks he owns you,” Tom growls, sliding one from your hand, and crushing the soft high karat gold in his fist.

“Hey.” Your protest is half hearted at best, and all you do is watch as he does the same to the other one, bending it beyond recognition. Destroying the precious little objects that weighed on your wrists with such heavy meaning seems to make him feel better.

Maybe you feel lighter too.

“Trade ‘em at a pawn shop for scrap value, honey. That’s all they’re good for.”

“They were Tiffany,” you tell him with a half smile and a raised eyebrow.

“They were Bullshit & Co, baby girl.” He might just be right about that. “Didn’t really think you cared about stuff like that?”

You shrug, because you don’t, but you’d never owned anything so fine. The novelty of it was enchanting, but maybe the real price for them was far too high.

“Can you take me home?” You think you probably look as pathetic as you sound.

He nods, pulling you to your feet with those strong hands, lifting you like you weigh nothing. You lean on him, more than you have to, and it takes all your self control not to wrap your arms around his solid torso and not let go. You realize, this is the first time all night you actually feel safe. “I’ve got you, honey. Come on.”

He walks you to the passenger side of the Charger, tucking you down into the seat, even fussing over the seatbelt. “I can do it,” you tell him softly with a brittle smile. You only see it for a flash of a second, but the rawness in his expression wipes that stupid smile right off your face. You realize that he was scared, for you, and the unlikelihood of it all makes you reach for him.

He freezes as you touch his cheek, your thumb tracing his high cheekbone. Only belatedly do you remember it's the hand with the bandage, because you really have had too much to drink, and you start to withdraw. Not before he turns to press his lips to your palm, his hand dwarfing yours. “You’re safe now. Alright?”

You nod, and your heart hammers in your chest as his gaze drops for a telling moment to your lips. In this vulnerable, inebriated state, safely ensconced in his car, you decide there’s nothing you would like more than to kiss Tom Ludlow, your unlikely knight in shining armor. It seems like the least you can do. You even start to lean towards him, but with a small growl he’s suddenly gone, shutting your door, and striding around to the driver's side. You almost can’t believe it.

But then again, you’re a fucking mess. Why would he want to kiss you?

Julian chooses this moment to start blowing up your phone. You send it to voicemail. As Tom pulls away, the Hemi snarling down the streets of Venice, your doctor demands,

WHERE ARE YOU?!

In answer you tap out, I can’t do this, Julian. I’m sorry. I left. You look over at Tom, a small warmth blooming in your chest, before adding, I’m safe.

Julian tries to keep talking to you, but you decide to just turn off your phone entirely, tossing it down on the floormat with your little clutch purse.You close your eyes, and sit back in the seat. Even then, you can feel Tom looking over at you.

You don’t know where you get the courage to speak, except maybe it’s just the liquid kind, and you’ll really regret it in the morning. “You’re a smart guy, Tom. Maybe you can tell me. What is it about me, that makes men want to hurt me? My whole fucking life…” Your courage does fail you then, and your mouth snaps shut.

There’s the regret. You knew it was there somewhere.

“Honey…” He reaches for you, engulfing your hand in his catcher’s mitt of a paw, squeezing. “I’ve seen a lot of bad shit over the years as a cop. The world is full of assholes. It’s full of evil. Maybe even more than good. It’s not your fault, when it finds you. Ok?”

You nod silently, but you still can’t help but think you’re like a fucking magnet for it. Julian had seemed like such a nice guy, but it turns out he literally wants to beat you with sticks–and maybe light you on fire? A bit of a roué. The understatement of the century.

And Tom seemed like an insufferable alpha asshole, but here he is, saving your ass when you had no one else to turn to.

Maybe the real lesson of the night is that you can’t trust your own judgment at all.

You feel Tom looking over at you again, that evaluating gaze that you fear misses nothing. “You sure he didn’t hurt you?”

You shake your head again. “He just…wanted to,” you admit. “He told me about it. That’s as far as it got.”

“Ok, sweetheart.” He squeezes your hand again, and you can’t help yourself from looking down at it in your lap, and imagining what it would be like if he slid those long fingers up your thigh, and into your panties while driving this powerful machine at breakneck speed down the road. His voice breaks you from your fantasy, leaving you blinking from the brightness of the passing headlights. “Look. Maybe that shit is all done up as something safe with all its rules and consenting adults and blah blah blah, but I’m a cop, and I know an abuser when I see one. If a man cares about you, he shouldn’t want to hurt you. Ok? Don’t let him mindfuck you, baby girl. Stay away from him. You don’t owe him anything, and he doesn’t own you.”

“You think you own me. By that logic, shouldn’t I stay away from you too?”

He gives your thigh a little possessive squeeze. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Maybe you’re a horrible judge of character, and maybe you should just listen to yourself every once in a while and stop getting into these situations, and maybe you’re just fucking stupid, but you believe Tom Ludlow. You believe him with every part of you.

“Well, you’re sorta.” A big hiccup cuts off the middle of your sentence, and you cover your mouth. Oh, that’s how you absolutely know you’re too inebriated for your own good.

Tom laughs. “Sorta what? Mean? Domineering? Bull headed?”

“Cocky,” you add, using the hand on your mouth to cover your smile. Somehow, this man has already managed to cheer you up a little.

“You can be dominant without hurting someone,” he tells you, tapping the side of your thigh with one chunky finger. You twitch a little bit, and it spreads a big grin on his face. The temptation exists to grab his hand and guide it right under the skirt of the dress, but you’re sadly not that drunk.

“Maybe…I need a demonstration?”

He looks so handsome when you catch him off guard, that rugged eyebrow quick and easy, raising in either confusion, humor, or a little bit of both. “Maybe I need to have dinner with you.”

Nope. No more dates. No more, says panicking sober brain.

“I was thinking maybe we just… skip the date?”

“Why? So you can avoid all those feelings you have about me? This might surprise you, but I’m not much for one night stands.”

Really? Fucking really? All his sexual innuendos and suggestions and poking and prodding and he’s suddenly the Virgin Mary?

“Are you kidding me?” You ask, unable to hide your anger. Alcohol. It does wonders. And horrors.

“I’d like to fuck you more than once, honey.”

“I’m not saying it would only be once.”

“Oh? And then the rest of the time, when we’re not fucking, you avoid me and ignore my calls?” Impenetrable Tom Ludlow seems a bit annoyed. Meanwhile, you are internally melting at his words. A man that wants to do more than just fuck you? Take advantage of you? Tom wants you? Fucking asshole. For making you feel…special. Wanted. Even if it is true.

“I don’t believe you.”

“What?” His anger makes you flinch.

You knock his hand off your thigh. “I said, I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe you would if you’d give me a chance.”

“You don’t take no for an answer.”

“Because I like you, and I’m not stupid enough to let you go.” Your internal monologue is screaming, resist. You’ve heard this shit before.

That’s the mantra.

You’ve heard it before.

“You just don’t get it.”

“Because you won’t let me. For Christ’s sake, it’s just one date. You wanna act all tough, but if you ask me, you’re being a coward.”

His words hurt, and you shrink back from the deep bite of his tone. He must notice the withdrawal, because he’s reaching over to touch your cheek, to soothe you, to tame you easily with that big, warm touch.

You smack him away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Baby.” His voice is soft, now, and fuck him for plucking every single one of your heart strings with it.

“No. Just let me out. I’ll walk home. I’ll call a fucking Uber.”

“You’re not getting out of this car until I watch you walk into your apartment.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

“No, but I’m bigger, stronger, and have double locks on these doors, so you’re getting home safe whether you like it or not.”

So you stew in your frustration for the rest of the ride home, your arms crossed like a petulant child. When he pulls up to your apartment building you remember that you had not, in fact, told him where you live.

“How do you know where I live? See, this is why I didn’t go on a date with you. It’s weird that you know where I live. I didn’t even tell you, and you think I’m the one who’s doing something wrong here? You’re a real piece of work, Tom.” You’re babbling, rambling, trying to restrain drops of salty liquid from falling down your face and failing horribly.

He turns toward you, calm and despondent. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

This is the second time he’s said sorry to you since the day you met him. No, maybe the third. He just swings that word around like he does his badge, and it’s so strange. People do not say sorry to you. That apologetic roll is usually yours and yours alone, and here he is just… Just saying it? Why does it piss you off even more?

You get out of the car, slam the door shut, and punch the security buttons for your complex. It's only after you’re safely inside that Tom drives away.

#keanuverse fic #keanuverse #tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow #street kings

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strqyr · 1 day

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Ngl, to me, Ozpin is so, so interesting, but not just regarding his reincarnation and past lives (though those Are very interesting). Like,, it's said that Ozpin became Headmaster at a young age and was a 'prodigy'. And based on the information we have on his age, that being younger than Theodore who's in his mid-late 40s, it's so interesting to consider exactly HOW young he mightve been. I'm willing to bet, based on appearance and facts, that he was probably 37-39 when he died, maybe very early 40s at the oldest. N like. That says that at the absolute youngest, he was probably 20 when he became Headmaster, and like, 24 at the oldest.

Which is like. That's WILD to me? I'm sure it's more likely he was 22-24 when he became Headmaster, but that's RIGHT AFTER he would get his Huntsman license, if he got it all naturally. If his last incarnations circle had kids and They knew (I wouldn't be surprised, it'd be juicy), and they were in high places, it's entirely possible that he got into that position earlier than he should have, possibly Unwillingly. I'm sure it's not canon, but I feel like that's WAY juicier than just "He got into the Headmaster position on his own by his own choice". Besides, I doubt the KoV would've wanted Ozpin to get shoved into such a position, if we can base how he mightve been on how Ozpin acts (merge n all).

Like. Idk I feel like Ozpin, the life and the incarnation, is So interesting especially if all this is true? Plus Oz parallels Pyrrha so I feel like him getting shoved into a position he didn't initially want would only hammer that in more. I am DESPERATE for a rwby spinoff that focuses on STRQ and Ozpin 🙏

i absolutely need to know how old ozpin was exactly when he became the headmaster of beacon and it will forever be one of my biggest frustrations with rwby that they never give their adult characters exact ages like please, i need to know 😭

but just by doing detective work, it's like. okay, in the novels he's said to be the youngest headmaster beacon has had, but in the show it's said he was one of the youngest headmasters, no specific academy mentioned, so i don't think he was like. impossibly young? he's a licensed huntsman, so prodigy or not, he likely would have gone through one of the academies and graduating first.

now, my own little pet theory is that ozma doesn't reincarnate into warriors—take a look at his known reincarnations, and none of them come across as having had any training before he popped into their head—so i'm thinking that ozpin wasn't attending an academy when that happened, which also leaves the door open that he could have been younger than 17 when he did—meaning that in addition to pyrrha, he might also parallel ruby, the two people he chose in one way or another—and during that time not only was he training (and gaining the muscle memory from ozma), but he was also prepared for the role of the headmaster by the inner circle members the king of vale left behind (since he's mentioned as ozpin's predecessor).

he was also already the headmaster of beacon when team strq was on their first year, so i'm thinking he's like... maybe 2-4 years older than them? which would put him at early-to-mid forties at the time of his death (depending on how old team strq are), which would still put him as younger than theodore, who is in his mid-to-late forties, maybe early fifties according to yatsuhashi.

but hard agree on team strq spinoff. for me that has always been about more than just strq—though it goes without saying that's obviously where my bias lies lol—, it's also about ozpin and how he formed his inner circle around him because all of them—especially the headmasters—were like. his friends? these are not people chosen by his predecessor, these people were chosen by him and i need to know and see how that happened and how ozpin handled it all like did he go through the same awkwardness as oscar where people older and more experienced than him looked at him like he should know what to do??

there's just so much there to dig into and i must have it. please.

#rwby #ozpin #nightmare-foundation #ask.strqyr #losing sleep thanks to generation strq since day 1 of their existence

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