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coffeeastronaut · 1 year

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Insane to me that 13s finale was so bad like ik i literally quit watching during her run bc it sucked so bad but like. What. we got:

straight up incomprehensible plot with multiple irrelevant or unaddressed plot points beginning and then never getting finished or explained in any way (was was the master Rasputin? why did the plan have to happen in two different time periods? what were those two warring planets? why did we need the cybermen AND the daleks? why did the master use his big doe eyes to hypnotize those people?)

Comprehensible plot points that were botched (matryoshka cyberman, kidnapped energy source alien thing, ai holo doctor, yaz being/becoming the doctor in her own right, the doctor has so many friends forever and thats why shes a winner, master x doctor haties 4ever, yaz wondering if she’ll get left behind like other companions/being worried abt turning into them, dan leaving)

Comprehensible plot points that were stupid as shit (the master needing ace and tegan for the matryoshka.. he couldn’t have just kept it in his pocket? forced regeneration into the master so that he can wreck her reputation for some reason? siesmologists being kidnapped and also he graffitied some paintings (for some reason?) and these things are Clearly Related Duh. master wants to um, be the doctor for some reason? yeah im not touching that one frankly. the doctor suffering zero consequences from forced regeneration only to get laser beamed to death but then shes fine to like get ice cream and chit chat but she is dying. Dont think abt it too much.)

chibby coincidence catastrophe. this cunt loves to not write cause and effect lets just get lucky or slip or trip or fucking whatever. teagan slipping on that ladder so that she can get jumpscared but then it’s fine actually she can just slide away like dark souls, graham just like idk chilling and running into ace in the dalek lave pit, random traitor dalek (who is immediately killed and never relevant again???) just happens to contact the doctor just in time for the other daleks to use it as a trap????

and like on top of all this it had so many moments where you can practically feel chibnall begging the audience to get hype bc look xyz thing is here from previous thing on the show! like w/ the classic companions coming back (and i do love them! But WHERE was the relevancy beyond making yaz uncomfortable bc they both left in bad circumstances. Where was it.), or all of the doctors homies showing up to pilot the tardis with her (you WISH you were the stolen earth you WISH-), or the fugitive doctor (sorry i didnt watch that ep. but i know enough to know it was nothing more then a callback.), or seeing all the other doctors in 13s like dreamscape place or whatever the fuck (and what was the point of that? she just idk says hi guys! and then sits in there and waits? hello?), the companion support group (cute concept! joked abt in fandom for years! but so lame in execution im sorry!), UNIT being involved for some reason (this is the least egregious imo, since it slotted neatly into the plot. however since they didnt do anything other then say hey doc check out these paintings! ahhughh cybermen! it’s still stupid as shit.) ace and graham flirting for some reason???? LIKE WHAT WAS THE POINT HERE. Dan leaving (why didn’t he leave at the end of last episode when he was clearly thinking about it??) like ten minutes into the episode, and the doc is like okay bye! [leaves him homeless on the street] like what horrible pacing that was. And where the hell was ryan? Dan and graham come pick yaz up and ryan is no where to be seen. Maybe he could smell the bad vibes and stayed home. Christ

Yaz especially felt just soooooo botched and shitty. As i said before i quit watching after 13’s first season, but i did catch the last five min of the sea devils and even just there it was. Pretty fucking clear that they were confessing love to one another, but we ~cant be together ever~ (says the cunt whos had countless kinda-sorta-girlfriends and at least one wife!) because itll ~be sad~ (you wish you were tenrose you WISH-).

Her competence at flying the fucking tardis, delegating tasks, planning, and executing on all of it was flawless! that’s an insane level of skill for a companion to have, only ever shown in new who with River Song, and outliers like Doctor-Donna, Bad Wolf Rose, or whatever that was with immortal Clara. To have her do all that, especially with such success… it’s crazy. Usually we only see that level of competence from ex-companions, like Martha, Micky, dimension-hopping Rose, or Sarah Jane.

Both those things said. You’re telling me. The Doctor is regenerating. So. Yaz is just. Gonna go home? What? Not even that the the doctor intentionally abandoned her- although, arguably she did- just. She’s leaving i fucking guess. For no reason? After all that? I understand it’s partially a writing thing and mandip leaving the show or whatever, but like, that was seriously the best you can do? She just dips and goes to a support group?

And that feeds into a greater problem with the episode, the idea that all of this works bc the doctor has all these friends. And then she just like. Leaves. She just dips. Hits the fucking bricks ALONE. and again it’s partially the writer swap i’m sure. But what on Gods Green Fucking Earth. Not to mention it all hinges on her having friends but none of them seem to actually like her or be friends with her. it’s like houseplants instead of characters.

absolutely a shameful end to a shameful run of the show. I really hope that jodie/13 get the chance to come back under better writers in the future for audio dramas or whatever.

in conclusion, tldr, or whatever: jesus christ that shit

SUCKED

#mi #long post #good parts of the ep: im a sucker for high saturation sorry it looks baller. sacha as the master is a delight even if his writing is just #fucking ATROCIOUS he’s nice to look at thanks to costuming for putting him in cute outfits.#it’s hard to fully enjoy his acting when the material really is just. so shit. but i do like his choices and his mannerisms hes fun.ty sacha #umm… colors and sacha… um….. idk i guessthe master’s jokerfied tardis was good. ehhhh #dont get me started on the dt regen . glad to see the man but Hello? Hello? Hello?#erm. i should tag this as a long post. and also as dw so that my friends can filter this but i do NOT want this showing #up in the tags like at all. i dont want to be a prick to ppl who liked it and also i dont want to get killed by doctor who fans who thought #this was baller. sorry to jodie whittaker fans too. im sorry she sucked and i cant tell how much is her and how much is chibnall. augh.#tagged this as long post. sorry to my non-dw mutuals for my long haterism post.

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silent-browser · 5 days

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I am banning myself from caffeinated teas >:[

I heard that green tea was supposed to be very good for dieting. And guess who's sibling begged their parents for green tea and then proceeded to never drink any of it. So in an attempt I started drinking some. Two cups yesterday. One cup today.

It's PAST my BED TIME >:[

I AM NOW PARANOID ABOUT MY MORTALITY AND THE MORTALITY OF THE PEOPLE I LOVE >:[

I am SLEEPY yet UNABLE TO REST because when I try I get DEPRESSI >>:[

I'm switching to de-caff... that my sibling also begged my parents to buy for them but never drank...

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livingemkayde · 10 months

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barbecue

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. Oral; f!receiving, fingering; f!receiving. Semi public fingering. Pet names. Not proof read.

a/n: guys. the love on ride literally changed my life. like actually. thank you so much for the support. due to the love on the one shot, consider this part 2 (and also my token of deep gratitude). if you haven't already, please check out my masterlist! im writing a din fic so if you want to read more of me, you know where to find it. last thing, my shit keeps getting community labeled so spread the word to change ur settings i guess?? dont really know how to fix that, i give warnings at the top of every fic. really really last thing, i live and breathe for your comments/asks/submissions, i will consider your requests for future parts if you guys want one. love you all tysm

edit: gonna continue with this and make it a small series. comment or message me if you would like to be added to the tag list!!!

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

The ride back is silent.

He just kind of pushed you off his lap and back into the passenger’s seat—then started to drive you home without another word. You were too scared to say anything—you sat, body completely facing him—mouth hanging open like you wanted to say something, but you had no idea what to say to that.

To rejection.

Your dad’s call had really killed the vibe. Whenever you looked over at Joel he had a certain scowl that told you he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to talk to you.

But you wanted to talk to him.

You really did—like you worship the ground he walks on because he’s Joel Miller, and he just pushed you off his lap after sticking his fingers inside you, and you seemingly can’t get enough.

“So are we gonna talk about—” you look over at him but he cuts you off in an instant.

“No.”

“No? Joel—”

“I said no,” he gives you a quick glance then turns back to the road.

That shut you up. You feel kind of dejected. Like maybe it was a heat of the moment type thing. But it didn’t feel like that to you, if the quiet heartbreak settling in your chest is any indication.

You turn to look out the window when you feel tears prick your eyes—your throat becoming heavy.

All he gives you is a long sigh that pushes through the car.

When he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t even put the car in park, just switches gears to reverse so he can back out just as quickly.

Great.

You mumble a quick thanks and exit—if you slammed the door—you didn’t notice over the ringing in your ears.

You enter your house, rubbing your hands over your face. When you shut the front door, your head is spinning. You rest your forehead against it but a voice—your dad’s voice—snaps you out of it.

“Library?”

You spin around to look at him.

Fuck.

You have to keep it together.

“Yeah,” you reply. But even to your ears, you sound a little breathless.

“That Joel?” He tries to peer out the window of the front door—you know he can see the pick-up pulling out of the drive and into Joel’s across the street. Your dad doesn’t look skeptical—more confused than anything.

“Yeah. He was nice enough to give me a ride back,” you remove your shoes and start to walk towards the stairs. You need to leave before your cheeks turn beet red.

You think he’s about to let you off the hook. You’re halfway up the stairs, giving him a small smile goodbye, and he slips in his last question—

“No books?”

Fuck.

God.

Think.

Fuck.

“N-nothing good there. I need…special—books for my research,” you try to take one more step but he raises his eyebrow at your response and you freeze.

Special books? What the fuck are you thinking? What does that even mean?

You wait, breathless. And he kinda scowls at the floor then takes one more look up at you.

“Alright then,” he says and stalks off towards the living room —you let out a staggered breath.

Thank god.

The next few days roll into one long sleepless night. You toss and turn when you remember what happened in the truck. You aren’t embarrassed—but you’re hurt more than anything.

Joel Miller.

The last time you saw him, 2 summers ago, he was teaching you how to drive—you asked your dad, but he had said something about how he'd get too frustrated if he tried to teach you.

He asked Joel to give you your first lesson that night.

You remember sitting in the same truck, but in the driver's seat. He reached over to point out something on the speedometer, and you kept staring at his face instead of the dash—when he looked over and saw you weren’t paying attention he teased you.

But it was different.

Not like the teasing from a couple days ago.

You knew it was playful—this new teasing felt flirtatious. Like he actually cares if you’re seeing someone.

Cared.

Fuck.

You admittedly cried about it. A lot. And didn’t get out of bed much in the days since.

Your dad miraculously pulled through with the barbecue. It's actually funny how the one time you want him to forget something—he’s way too enthusiastic about it and somehow ends up inviting the whole neighborhood and then some.

Your dad asks you if you want to invite Liam as you lie in bed, you give him a shrug—not really hearing him. If Liam comes, who cares. If Liam doesn’t come, who cares. You certainly don’t. Liam isn’t really anything compared to a certain forty something year old who just rejected you in possibly the worst way imaginable.

Pathetic is probably the right word. You feel pathetic. Like maybe you’re just another woman in the neighborhood who has a crush on Joel that he would never go for. Like you were a mistake.

It's certainly what he made you feel like.

The day of the barbecue comes around and you haul yourself out of bed and into a sundress. Your dad is freaking out downstairs about the logistics of being able to feed the—honestly horrific—amount of people he’s invited. How they’re all going to fit in your backyard is a mystery to you.

You know Joel’s gonna be there—and you don’t know if you can stomach seeing him. The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

People start flooding in, all giving you a smile, hug, and congratulations as they walk through the house. You try to put on your best face but when every knock or doorbell ringing could be Joel, you bite your lip and furrow your brows.

There’s a lot of people. And by a lot—there’s probably close to 60 people in this house—spread through the backyard—and you can only really name 20.

Your phone buzzes and your heart drops a bit. You don’t know why. Joel doesn’t text you.

Sarah Miller: on our way soon

Fuck.

You like the message and go to turn off your phone when a certain notification catches your eye.

Liam Moore: excited to see you :)

So your dad had invited him. You groan a bit, but you can’t be too mad.

You slink to the backyard, saying hi to everyone as you move to find your dad. He’s standing with some men you recognize from the neighborhood. They all congratulate you again and you give them a smile and a thank you in return.

“You invited Liam?” you say under your breath when the group of men go back to talking.

“Yeah? I don’t really know what this—” he shrugs his shoulders dramatically “—means so I invited him just in case.” When you don’t respond he continues.

“That a problem sweetheart?” He looks at you, worried.

“No, no—I—thank you, dad. I mean it, really. This is awesome,” you give him a small smile and hug.

You turn towards the entrance of the backyard and see Joel and Sarah walking through the sliding doors. He catches your eye almost immediately—then drops your gaze.

He looks—good. Sporting a couple 6 packs of beer in each hand, Sarah carrying one more behind him. He moves through the crowd easily, saying hi to everyone in passing. God, he looks like a celebrity. It makes you roll your eyes a bit and chug down some of the beer in your hand.

When he arrives you move past him and greet Sarah. She screams (which makes everyone look at the two of you) and gives you a hug, jumping into your arms. It’s nice to see her. She congratulates you and starts telling you her entire life story that has been the past two years in response to your simple “How’ve you been?”

You missed her. And you should have stayed in touch more—but you were extremely busy—your dad was lucky to get a phone call once a week.

“But, he’s not important anymore—isn’t it crazy how fast men can move on? God. Anyways, congratulations again!” She really does move a mile a minute, “Dad, did you say congrats?”

Her words hit you like a truck—her story, very—ironic—considering your situation with the man she’s pulling over by the bicep.

“Uh yeah. Hey kid,” he says, not really meeting your eye.

“‘Hey kid’? Dude—” Sarah gives him a knowing look and pushes him towards you.

Joel wraps his arm around you—you feel like you can’t breathe. Your face touches his chest and you retract back from the hug like you’ve been burned. It sure feels like it.

“Congrats,” he gives you a nod and clears his throat.

Sarah rolls her eyes and gives you a look, her face saying; ‘god why is my dad so weird?’ You try to laugh it off and hope no one notices your blush.

Thankfully, she pulls you away from him, you toss a look over your shoulder and see him staring back at you.

Liam arrives shortly after. You leave Sarah with some neighborhood friends and make your way to the front door.

When you open it, you’re pleasantly surprised.

Liam is—hot?

You only remember his 12th grade image—sporting hair that was a bit too short for his head and some ill fitting clothes but this is—different.

He looks nice. Polished.

Different from what you remembered, or what you expected.

“Hey!” he says and brings you into a hug.

“Hey Liam,” you chuckle into his arm.

“Good to see you! I didn’t know if we would ever get together. Have you been getting my calls?” he pulls back and gives you a soft look.

You feel bad.

“Uh, I think my dad is like super bad with the phone. I didn’t know you had been calling the house till like yesterday,” you reply sheepishly. God, starting this out with a lie.

“Hey no worries, anyways, congratulations!” His hand lands on your back as you move to let him inside. It trails a bit lower and you try not to think too much about it.

“Yeah, you too—Princeton right?” You hope that’s right—you haven’t been keeping up with him.

“Oh uh Yale, but close enough,” he chuckles and accepts the beer you hand him.

“Shit. Sorry, I—you know—my brain,” you touch his arm, gently, in apology—and you can’t help but notice the muscle underneath his shirt. “You enjoyed it?”

“Oh yeah. It was great. Going to Columbia for law school.”

Hm. Smart.

“Wow! That’s—wow. Congrats. Really, Liam, that’s awesome,” you say, and you mean it. He’s impressing you. And he’s not so hard on the eyes either.

It almost makes you forget about your dad’s best friend. Almost.

Liam pulls you into small talk—you walk him around the house while introducing him to the people you do know—while purposefully trying to avoid the backyard until he suggests getting some air.

Your dad is the first to greet you—drunk. He’s standing next to Joel.

“Hey! You made it!” He slurs. Oh god.

“Yeah thanks for the invite sir,” Liam extends his hand to shake your dad’s.

“Yeah, yeah…this is Joel,” your dad says as they drop hands.

Liam extends his to Joel and you bite your lip and almost have to look away out of embarrassment when he takes it.

“Liam,” he says while shaking. Liam’s eyes turn down to their hands joined and grimaces a bit.

“Joel.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” Liam says. You can tell he’s trying to drop Joel’s hand.

“Likewise.”

Joel lets the handshake go on for far too long. An awkward cloud blankets the air. Liam looks at you and when you meet his eye, you drop his gaze and peek over at Joel. Your dad hardly seems to notice in his drunken state but Joel seems mad—and Liam seems scared.

When Joel finally lets Liam’s hand go, Liam shakes it out a bit like it’s been crushed.

Fuck.

You give Joel a glance and he’s looking back at you—though you can’t read his eye. You shake your head a bit and try to brush it off. You can feel his looks through your father’s conversation. He remains silent—just the occasional scan at Liam when his hand comes to rest on your lower back again. A flick in his jaw is the only indication he might have any emotions towards this situation.

After some small talk you attempt to pull Liam away. Your dad is way too drunk and Joel is way too brooding for you to witness any longer.

When you both walk away, you can feel Joel’s hardened gaze bore into the back of your head. It sends shivers through you.

“You know that guy?” Liam whispers when you exit.

“Yeah, he’s uh—he’s my neighbor,” you stutter.

“Thought my hand was gonna fall off,” he mutters, looking down at it.

You smile and just try to laugh it off.

You’re sitting on some lawn chairs with Liam. It's been nice catching up with him. He’s really grown up since the last time you spoke. You wanted to ghost him because he seemed immature. Like the kid you knew four years ago. But this was nice. He was more your speed now.

And he wasn’t fingering you then pushing you off him in the next instance—which was nice.

“I had a good time today,” he says, leaning back on the chair and looking to the side towards you.

“Me too. Thanks for coming,” you say, smiling back at him.

“Would you want to—like—get dinner sometime? I know you just got back but…”

That kind of throws you for a loop. Sure, talking to him at a party is one thing. Dinner—a date—is another. But when your gaze catches Joel standing behind Liam’s head—talking to some woman you don’t recognize—it’s like your mind's made up for you.

“Sure. That’d be nice,” you say. Liam gives you a smile back.

You walk him to the door after a bit more talking. Liam said he had something he had to do—you didn’t really hear much after you saw Joel talking to that lady. The kitchen area is still busy with guests—it almost seems like people are still coming in.

He gives you a kiss on the cheek as he bids you goodbye. You don’t blush. You don’t really do much of anything.

When you shut the door you let out a huff. This day has been entirely too much and you’re already tired from the thought of seeing your dad drunk again and Sarah’s hyperactive love life she still has to fill you in on.

“You dating’ him?”

You whip around to find Joel entering your space. His hands shoved in his pockets.

You scoff. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to weave in and out of your life when it’s convenient for him.

“Just leave Joel,” you say, defeated. You don’t want to play this game with him anymore.

“Smart kid,” he notes but he doesn’t sound that genuine and you really can’t deal with this right now.

“What’s your problem?” you say, hushed, but no one seems to be paying attention to your conversation.

“I ain’t got one.”

“The handshake, Joel? C’mon,” you say, shaking your head while looking down at the ground “Fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He asks—angry.

“I said you’re a fucking asshole,” you meet his eye. That doesn’t surprise him, but you definitely surprise yourself. He looks angrier. If that’s possible.

He lets it simmer for a bit before speaking again.

“‘S none of my business.”

“Yeah. It’s not. So stop shooting daggers at him and trying to break his hand.”

“So he’s gonna be comin’ around more often?”

“Do I need your permission?”

“No. Just curious," Jesus christ. He’s making you furious.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

That makes your eyes go wide and you stare back at him in shock. How could he be throwing this back in your face after he ignored you?

“No—” you scoff “—I really don’t.”

He pauses—like he was about to say something snippy—but after hearing your response he falters. He almost looks hurt. Good. You want him to hurt as much as you were.

“Hey! There you are!” a neighbor you recognize—a younger man, Mason, accompanied by the same woman Joel was just talking to, “C’mon over—lets me get you guys a drink.”

You follow Mason, Joel follows suit. His brooding energy feels uneasy from behind you.

You and Joel come around to the empty side of the kitchen island and watch as Mason makes you both a drink. Your hand comes down to play with the hem of your dress but Joel’s standing so close to you that his fingers brush yours, you retract away.

You and Joel stand in between the kitchen counter and the island. Mason and woman opposite you on the other side of the island.

“So? School was good?” Mason asks like he’s been keeping up with you.

“Yeah! Yeah, finished up some research—I’m back for the summer but I need to get a job,” you reply sheepishly with a chuckle. He starts talking about how he went to Texas Tech, and you stop paying attention.

You peek over at Joel beside you, sipping his beer while looking at Mason talking. You doubt Joel is listening.

“Anyways! A toast! What a smart kiddo—your dad should be really proud,” Mason says while leaning over the island to meet your glass, you and Joel both do the same.

When you’re coming back from the toast, lips curling around the rim of the glass, Joel's hand lands on your lower back.

No one can see—the counter coming up to your waist, with no one nearby except for the pair standing across the counter. Joel's standing so close to your side that they don’t even bat an eye when his hand starts to drift lower.

You choke on your drink—looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You okay sweetheart?” The woman asks.

“Yeah—y-yeah. ‘M fine,” you say through a couple of coughs.

She looks at you, then back at Joel, giving him a smile—then starts talking with Mason again.

You bite your lip to keep from bursting. You peak over at him again but he remains cool, unmoving, nodding his head every once in a while at the conversation.

Your dress is short and it rides up with his hand, moving across your backside.

You bring your cup to your lips, attempting to hide your mouth when you let out a small—

“What the hell are you doing?” under your hushed breath.

Of course, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

You know you could just walk away. Just excuse yourself from the conversation, leaving him and this woman who obviously wants him, behind. But something deep inside you doesn’t want to. Even through all the hurt he put you through—the heartbreak. You still want him, even if this is wildly inappropriate—and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you break.

His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, eventually threatening to your panties after he hikes the dress up over his hand.

The pair in front of you are now talking about some raccoon who keeps terrorizing the neighborhood trash cans and you really couldn’t care less.

You couldn't care less when he pushes your panties to the side to nudge his fingers through your slick.

His breath hitches at the feeling of you already soaking. His pointer finger catches on your clit, and you forget how the day started.

“You sure you’re okay sweetie? You look a little pale,” she continues. God. Annoying.

“Yeah—sorry. Just a bit tired. Long d-day—” the tip of his finger pushes into you. The pair gives you a confused look and you smile back in the hopes they drop it—and they do—thank god.

“So that kid Liam, your dad said?” Mason gives you a teasing look.

“Yeah—Liam. I knew him in high school,” you try to keep your wavering voice to a minimum.

“You guys look good together. Cute couple,” the woman says and you almost choke.

Not because you and Liam are definitely not dating but because at her comment, Joel sinks a finger deep into you and you try not to conceal your whimper with a cough.

You can feel him huff and let out a small chuckle beside you.

“Oh we’re not dating, just friends,” you reply with a breathy laugh. You grip the counter so hard it might break.

“Just friends huh? Looked cozy though,” Joel quips from beside you. His tone is teasing like he’s talking to a friend. The pair in front of you laugh.

“Yeah just friends, Joel,” you try to chuckle with them but it's hard when his finger begins to pump in and out of you while a second nudges at your entrance.

The thickness of his fingers leaves you breathless while your head spins.

You can hear your dad from outside—starting to come in and you know you need to leave.

Joel hears it too, and his fingers slow.

You reach behind you when the pair isn’t looking, and carefully but quickly, pull his hand away. You almost moan at the loss of his fingers.

“Excuse me,” you look at the pair, raising your glass to them and give Joel a meet me upstairs look while you slink away quickly.

You enter the guest bedroom—you don’t want him to see the messy state of your room from unpacking.

When you shut the door, you let out a small scream—he’s driving you up the walls—and you keep coming back for more. But he needs to know you’re not just for the taking.

The door opens and shuts as you stand with your back facing it, but you know it’s Joel.

“What the fuck Joel?” you turn, exasperated, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with a hand on his hip.

When he doesn’t respond you continue—“You can’t just fuck with me whenever you feel like.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ with you.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say, hands coming to run over your face. “Then what was that downstairs?” No response again. “Is this about Liam?”

Finally he breaks—“I don’t care about that kid.”

God, it's like pulling teeth.

“You don’t care?” you let out a breathless laugh, “Right. Okay. Really seemed like it when you almost broke his hand."

“What?” He steps closer to you, you take one back, “You want me to care?”

“No—I—Jesus, Joel.” You feel like crying, but you bite your lip instead.

He takes more steps towards you, and you take some more back. Your back hits the wall with a thud and you gasp.

“You want me to care?” he repeats his statement, a dark, husky drawl wrapping around his words. “‘Bout your little boy toy?”

You can’t find your words.

The air is different between you. It’s like he knows that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever get away from him. That he swirls through your thoughts despite your hardest efforts.

You begin to nod your head before you know what you’re doing.

His hand comes up and runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Open,” he says while pushing his thumb into your mouth—and you do.

He eyes your mouth, taking his thumb, instinctively sucking on it as he pushes it down on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he breathes out.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, running it over your bottom lip—then he moves—and you think he’s going to leave, but he drops down to his knees instead.

“I do care. Care quite a bit,” he mumbles into the skin of your legs as his hands roam the backs of your thighs.

He trails kisses up the inside of your legs—his nose disappearing under your dress—but his eyes stay trained on you.

He reaches up to push your dress to your stomach, and you hold it for him on instinct.

His nose rubs against your clothed cunt, placing soft kisses there—you let out a strangled moan.

“Joel…” you let out in a staggered breath.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to say don’t, and the movement rubs against your clit and your head hits the wall behind you.

Joel’s hand comes down to push your panties to the side, holding it there. You squirm when the air hits your dripping core.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder so he can access you better. Your heel digs into his back in attempts to bring his mouth closer.

“Fuck, angel,” he says when he sees your wetness. “Always so wet.”

“Please Joel, I—” his lips come to wrap around your clit, you’re cut off with a strangled moan.

He sucks and his tongue darts out to flick your clit, then back down to taste your dripping entrance. He groans against you, and the vibrations shoot through your core.

“Fuck Joel—I—” you know this isn’t right. You asked him up here to put him in his place, but when his tongue does that on you and your orgasm is quickly approaching, you can’t seem to remember what you wanted to talk to him about, “—God. Please—”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. Maybe it’s your sad attempts to try and get him to stay with you.

His hand comes up between your legs. His fingers dance over your entrance, soaking it in your wetness.

The tip of his middle finger prods, but doesn’t sink in like you expect. It makes you squirm and whine nonsense to him.

“You want him, baby? You wish it was him instead?” He says when he pauses and looks up at you.

“No—no. God—I—you. Joel, want you,” you whine, and moan even louder when he pushes two fingers in at your response.

“That’s it, good girl,” he says when your walls stretch around his fingers. You feel like you might come just from the feeling of them pushing in—and you get even closer when he pumps them at a slow pace.

It feels like an apology. Like he’s on his knees begging you to forgive him. But you know him better. It’s more like he’s proving he’s gonna be the only one for you ever. Even when you have boys thinking about you 24/7, and you can’t even spare them a single thought.

“Joel—I—ah—”

His lips return back to your clit, sucking and flicking and it pushes you over the edge. He can feel you pulsing around him, whispering a soft, “fuck are you coming?” his shock, evident in his tone.

You push his head back to your clit, and he works on it, pushing you into white oblivion as you slump against the wall.

You stand there, panting, for a bit. His own breath coming hot onto your skin while he looks up at you.

When he slowly removes his fingers and lets your leg down from his shoulder, you moan quietly.

“Kiss me,” you plead, still writhing from your orgasm.

“Get back to your party,” is all he says while straightening out your dress, and leaving the room.

part iii

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mysicklove · 9 months

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i had the most unhinged thought and raced to your inbox because i need this demon expelled from my body asap. hawks coming home from the worst day of patrol, everything went wrong and he had to speak up at a press conference, play the part of perfect, and all he wants is to melt into your touch. you can see it in his eyes, the dark circles, and the weary tilt of his smile. "baby bird," his voice is hoarse, "need you to hurt me tonight," so he can finally unravel. you're the only one he wants to be perfect for. okay goodbyeee 💀

𝐔𝐍𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐕𝐀𝐒

Pairing: Masochist! Hawks x Gn! Sadist! Reader

CW: face slapping, lots of blood, cock stepping, kicking, bruising, cock slapping, heavy degration, loss of air, mean reader, tons and tons of tears, scratching, mouth spitting, no mention of safe word but keep in mind it is there !!!

A/N: anon im sorry i totally changed ur thing, i just saw masochist hawks and sprinted. the demons wrote this, not me. dont look at me everyone. HEED THE TAGS

it was a way to blow off steam. something that he looks forward to, just some time where he doesn't have to think anymore. only feeling he has the stinging sensations and the tears that prick his eyes. it was an embaressing obsession he had. he loved pain.

Keigo walks to the bedroom, his hero costume tattered, and dark circles under his eyes. he is exhausted, but coming to you for your touch. pulling you close to him, and mumbling into your neck how bad he wants you to hurt him. till he bruises and bleeds. till every thought just disappears except for you.

and so you pull away, and slap him. it makes him tumble backward, and his yellow glasses fall off. he touches the tingling feeling on his face, blood spilling out from the skin caught on your wedding ring. you dont let up, sending another loud smack across his face, and this time he does fall to the ground, landing on his ass.

tears prick at his eyes, and he can feel his lip tear open. the taste of blood coats his mouth and he gulps, looking up at you for more.

he feels your foot jab onto his clothed cock and he keens, wincing up at you. "w-wait," he stutters, throwing his head back when your press even harder. "fuck!"

"wait? you want me to wait? after you begged for it like a dog?" he is squirming under you, tears now streaming down his face as you dig your foot into his pants.

"'m sorry. sorry—you are going to kill me!" he pleads, hands trying to dig themself into the carpet to fight back against the pain.

you sigh, and let up, instead using your foot to push at his chest, causing him to fall over and onto his back. "take off your clothes, Keigo," you mumble, taking a seat on the bed with crossed legs and staring down at him.

"okay. okay. I will. Just give me a minute!" he pants, tearing off his jacket and shirt as fast as he can. he knows something is coming, you werent playing nice.

you dont give him enough time, he reaches for his pants, and without hesitation you slam your foot into his stomach. he goes tumbling backwards and lands on his side, curling into a ball and panting. his eyes are wide and he is gripping onto his adomen. it surely will leave a huge bruise tomorrow. but thats not what he is worried about, he cant breathe.

"awww, did you get the wind knocked out of you? that's what happens when you move too slow," you tease, as you take in his appearance. he trembles in front of you, looking up at you in fear. tears drip down his cheeks and onto the ground, as he tries and fails to catch his breath.

you giggle at him, padding over to him. he flinches at the footsteps, bracing himself for another kick, but you just begin to unbutton his pants, pulling them down. "useless thing, arent you. cant follow any directions," you coo, now tearing off his boxers.

his cock springs out, tip red and leaking pre cum. "such a pervert! you sick fuck, keigo. who gets hard from getting beat?" you land another slap to his thigh, and his whole body jerks.

you smile at the red handprint, glancing back at him to see him beginning to drool. its coated red from the blood from his cheek and lip. he's is still heaving from the kick, eyes wide, and body gasping for oxygen.

"say Hawks do you get turned on when you are losing against villains? pop a boner like a freak for anyone who hits you?"

his eyes flash to you and he is shaking his head desperately. his words are breathless, "no. no. 'm not a freak!"

a quick, but harsh slap to his cock. he jumps again, globs of tears falling quicker. "fuckkkkk," he whimpers, shaking his head back and forth. his whole body shakes, and fingers dig into his own skin.

"you liar! do you want to be kicked again?"

"no no no no. im sorry. im sorry! im a freak. a pervert who likes to get hit. im sorry," he sobs, reaching for your ankle for comfort. you slap it away and he hisses, rubbing the back of it with a sniffle.

but you smile at him and lean over to sit on his chest. his head is still lolled to the side and his body racks with sobs. "shhhhhhh. so whiny Keigo. thanks for admitting it. my disgusting pervert. here, a reward."

you grab his face, hard enough to bruise, and force him to look up at you. his eyes are half shut in a wince, but he tries to force them open to look at you. you pry his mouth open, lean forward, and drop a glob of spit into his mouth.

he doesnt hesitate to swallow it, opening his mouth up again and sticking his tongue out to show you its gone. "th-thank you," he whimpers, and you smile fondly at him.

you hands trail up and down his down his body, sending vicicoius red raised scratchmarks along his pretty skin. "now, pervert....what should we do to this pretty canvas?"

he grins up at you, tears still dripping, and blood staining his cheeks and lips, but still stars in his eyes. "anything."

#mello.writes #thirsting hours #keigo x reader smut #dom reader #sub hawks #hawks x reader #hawks smut #keigo smut #keigo x reader #sub keigo #sub tamaki #keigo tamaki x reader #mha smut #hawks x reader smut #hawks x you #x reader #reader insert #dom! reader #n/sfw

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lovely-keii · 4 months

Text

being their sibling

characters: tsukishima kei, oikawa tooru, suna rintarou

a/n: i write a fic every time i rewatch hq LOL sorry ik i said im abandoning this blog buuuut…happy bday to this blog!! (repost from 1/5 because tags broke :(( )

part 1

TSUKISHIMA KEI

looks out for you, but he can’t help that hes so emotionally constipated :’( he tries to give you advice because he genuinely is concerned for you but just is unable to word anything properly. see: “you need to stop talking to that person, you’re being a pushover,” but he just wants you to realize you’re letting people walk all over you.

god forbid he has to comfort you because hes the wrong brother for that - you’re definitely in better hands with akiteru. he might walk in on you crying and contemplate if he’ll even say anything or just ignore it flat out, or he’ll say something like “don’t cry, you look stupid.” if you cry more, he’ll end up swallowing his pride and sitting next to you. he’ll groan and reluctantly, “fine, spill it.”

other than that, he’s going to be a sneaky little prick. definitely the type to take revenge on you if you annoy him. you eat the last piece of chocolate he was saving and suddenly you find your charger hidden deep under your bed. also loves to take things without your permission. “why? i’m just using it, it’s not like you need it now.”

if someone picks a fight with you, he’ll be quick to extract you from the situation before saying something ruder and harsher than usual to the person. and if you tell him you like someone from his team, he’s going to look at you like you’re crazy. “are you insane?!” he’s honestly more bewildered than upset. doesn’t let you anywhere near the gym. he can make an exception for yamaguchi though. “at least it’s not hinata…or worse, kageyama.”

OIKAWA TOORU

your life is never boring with this guy as your brother. you’re literally being dragged everywhere, practices, shopping, team events… you’re like “i’m not even part of the team.” he goes “we can fix that!” and the next day you find out that you’re the manager for the boys’ volleyball team. huh, wonder how that happened.

oh my god, he MILKS you being his manager. “hold my drink, my fans are calling.” “y/n get my towel please.” you’re absolutely seething at the power trip that this guy is on. eventually, you start doing all that for his other team members and not for him, and he gets so whiney. “y/n you’ll get big ugly iwaizumi a towel but not your own sweet brother?!” that earns him a spike to the head from iwaizumi.

he tells you all the gossip about the school, because believe me, he knows A LOT of things. he’ll do his skin care while he forces you to listen to his gossip, cue him getting mad if you try to leave. everyone realizes why you two are siblings when you two walk down the halls and pull the exact same faces at the people he’s told you about in his gossip.

he makes you his little scapegoat for his fangirls. “oh, you want my number? you’ll have to ask y/n for that, they keep my phone with them during practice!” (you dont) “now, why don’t you girls hand all these gifts to my lovely sibling for me?” (you almost immediately chuck them at his face when you see him) but you know the best way to get back at him? when he sees you even slightly conversing with ushijima or kageyama, all hell breaks loose.

SUNA RINTAROU

the devil if the devil was your brother. he takes the ugliest pictures of you, when you’re asleep, when you’re yelling, when you’re crying over a movie. he also loves to send you pictures of animals and send a “look at you in this picture, so cute”. he also takes your things without asking and never returns it, you’ll just find it in his bag one day.

he also is one to order you around, and it drives you mad. “pass me the remote, y/n.” “but it’s nearer to you.” “i’ll tell mom that you-” // “y/n get me a drink from the vending machine.” “why would i do that” “remember when you snuck out and i-” // “get my bag too when you get yours.” “no.” “what i post that one picture of you when you’re about to sneeze-”

but he’s always looking out for you. when creeps try to approach you, he’s quick to react by shooting them a nasty glare. he’s a silent kind of care. standing behind you on elevators, walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, staying up late til you come home and just telling you he just couldnt sleep. little do you know, it’s something he’s always done even as a kid. putting more food on your lunch box, holding the corner of tables when you pick something up so you don’t hit your head, returning your things that are sprawled around the house to your room so you don’t lose them.

and if he ever finds you crying over some guy, he sighs and sits down next to you. “why’re you crying over an idiot?” he then makes snappy insults at the expense of the guy, making you laugh. “see? you look better like that. now stop crying and let me get some sleep.” he closes the light and shuts the door on his way out.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#oikawa x reader #tsukishima x reader #oikawa tooru #tsukishima kei #oikawa tooru x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader

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justmeinatree · 10 months

Text

To Wake Up By Your Side

Summary : Part 2 to Empty As A Bottle Of Wine … the morning after.

TW : smut

Word Count : 1.2k

A/N : i had no plan to do a part 2. but i got stoned, jumped on tumblr and saw that @strawnarrries rebloged with the tag “need more right now” so here we are ✌️

GIF : @horansqueen

you feel yourself start to wake, your eyes fluttering open to land on niall’s face. you smile softly, your eyes gently shutting again as you remember that he came home last night. well, more like this morning.

realization dawns on you and before you really have time to process it, your body clenches around niall’s cock. still tucked snuggly into you.

a wave of heat shoots down to your centre, your breath hitching, as all of this really registers with your sleep fogged brain.

you hitch your thigh higher, hooking your leg up from his hip to his waist, your foot pressing him impossibly closer.

the sudden movement and tiny whimper that leaves your lips, stirs niall from his sleep. you feel his thumb brush against the skin of your back, his arm thrown over you to keep you close through the night.

his eyes scrunch up tight for a moment, blinking open quickly, before shutting them again. “was supposed to wake up first. use my mouth and all that,” niall mumbles in a sleepy state.

the gravelly tone to his voice from his sleep dry throat, the thickness of his accent, the slow puffing up of his cock. another wave of heat pools between your legs, your arousal starting to coat niall’s member.

it’s not until your cunt clenches around him, that he even realizes he’s still tucked into you. a breathy moan escapes his lips, his nose rubbing against yours, “fuck, but this’ll do just fine.”

you whine, nodding, as your hand grips into his hair, lips slotting with his. and it’s so slow. both of you revelling in it. taking the time to indulge in what you’ve so painfully missed for the last 3 months of niall’s touring.

niall’s tongue slips its way through your lips, petting over your tongue, making you moan into his mouth, hips bucking and starting to grind on him.

his hand slides down your back to your hip, stilling you. he pulls away from the kiss, giving you a moment to catch your breath as he plants a soft peck on the corner of your lips. “dont want you to move yet,” he whispers, leaving a series of soft kisses down your cheek to your jaw.

you feel a tremble work it’s way through your body, your pussy clenching on him again, making niall’s breath catch in his throat, softly nipping at your jaw.

your thigh starts to shake, feeling so much him. the soft series of kisses he’s trailing down the column of your throat, the only movement he’s allowing himself. and with his tight hold on you, you couldn’t move even if you tried.

not that you want to. you’ve never felt so full. full of cock, full of joy, full of love. you silently wish you could spend the rest of your life just seethed on him.

“can’t stop,” you whisper breathily, gasping lightly for air. your cunt is literally throbbing around him, pulsing so hard with every press of niall’s lips to your throat.

“can’t stop what, petal,” niall whispers against your skin, between kisses, nose gently tracing patterns into your neck as he speaks. “can’t stop trembling ?” kiss. “can’t stop moaning ?” kiss. “can’t stop squeezing my cock ?”

this time instead of a kiss, his tongue lays flat against the base of your neck, licking up the column of your throat, up to your chin, avoiding your lips as he pulls his face just too far out of reach.

you whine loudly, a shiver running down your spine, your heat clenching harder around him.

“fuckin christ, you really cant stop, hmm ?” he asks quietly, his prick constantly being gripped on. as if your pussy wanted to suck him in deeper. if it were even at all possible.

“so full, ni,” you whimper, your breath hitching. “fucking-, so good. feels like my body’s burning.”

“sound like you’re gonna cum, pretty girl,” he groans, leaning in to crash his lips against yours. he can’t help himself, he’s so fucking needy for you.

niall bites into your bottom lip, tugging on it, “gonna be a good girl aren’t you ?” he asks, mouth ghosting over yours. “clenching so fucking hard on me. using me to cum. just like this. c’mon, be my good girl.”

“can’t,” you whimper loudly, lungs gasping for air. “fuck, s’not enough. need more, need more, please.”

he shakes his head no, his nose flicking yours back and forth, as he does. “s’my first day back. you’re gonna be a good girl for me. no matter how long it takes,” he murmurs against your ear, watching you squirm in his hold.

a loud, needy whine works its way out of your throat, your nails scratching down any bit of niall’s skin you can reach. you were so close. right on the edge. so close to the edge your toes were basically hanging over, feet teetering back and forth, but never taking the final plunge.

“help me,” you whimper, your body trembling on overdrive, trying to work your hips into his for any sort of movement, any friction, fucking anything.

“start begging, petal,” niall coos against your ear, his tongue pointed and licking over the shell of your ear.

“please,” you breathe out, without so much as a second thought. willing to do absolutely anything to be able to cum. you’ve been full of his cock since you shut your eyes around 5am. based on the reflection of the sun in your room, you’d guess it’s now mid to late afternoon.

“fuck, ni, honey, please. can’t anymore. hurts. fuck, fuck, i need to cum. need you. please, please, need to cum, ni, please, fuck, plea-“ your cut off by the press of niall’s lips against yours.

“keep begging like that and i’ll be the one cumming,” he groans. “tell me what you need, petal.”

“just- just,” you breathe frustratedly, trying to wiggle your hips, just enough to get some friction to your clit. a breathless moan leaves you as your bundle of nerves finally feels the dragging pressure it’s been craving.

niall keeps his hold tight on you, not letting your hips thrust, only giving you the opportunity to rut your body against his.

“gave you what you wanted,” he murmurs, lips slotting with yours. “please let me feel you cum, pretty girl. been fuckin craving it for months.”

finally. fucking finally. you feel your trembling body start to seize up as the burning string inside you snaps.

your jaw goes lax as you gasp for air, your inner walls clamped down so tight on niall’s cock, your brain cant seem to focus on anything else.

niall’s face buries itself in your hair as you’ve tucked your head in his chest, groaning from above you, “fuck, you’re such a good girl. missed you so much, petal.”

……

Masterlist

#niall horan #niall horan fanfic #niall horan blurb #niall horan smut #smut #niall horan one shot #niall horan imagine #niall horan fic #niall horan materlist #niall horan fan #niall horan fandom #niall horan writings #hello lovers #niall horan x reader #niall horan x you #writings #justmeinatree

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v1x3n · 1 month

Text

the mohawk

141 x reader // johnny 'soap' McTavish masterlist

part one / ?? - also not proof read

your last school got annoying, some shitty northern school where all the kids wouldnt listen. the annoying little pricks would run rampage across the place, litter everywhere because the school spent the money not on bins or cleaners but for stuff for the principal and the higher ups. so you quit and jumped from school to school untill you landed at this one.

this new school had its ups and downs but all good schools had that. the staff were nice and the kids were decent. not many kids were classed as 'rebels', most of them were good, well-behaved. well in school they were, you didnt want to see what kind of stuff they did after school. even just being in the school half a week, you had heard some stuff. normal british school rumours though. 'this teachers shagged students!' 'i heard the pe teacher is a nonce and cheating on his wife!' obviously they werent true though.

after a while you had met nearly every one in your flooe, you hadmt met this one man who was strutting around. speaking to everyone and then eventually you. it was lunch break and you with a few other teachers were chatting, thats when he rocked up. he wore a ironed light blue shirt with a black/grey sweater on the top, his sleeves rolled up to the top of his forearm, just below his elbow. his pants were brown and perfectly outlined the shape of his bulking thighs. "yer new 'ere" he speaks, directly at you yet you hadnt noticed and continued eating your pasta pot. so he sat next to you, he dumped himself down and smiled cheekily at you, "i said 'yer new 'ere" his voice changed to a more dominating tone.

"ah sorry!" you slightly chuckle, pure nervousness. he returns a wide smile at yiu whilst he takes in your laugh. you give him your name and he replies with, "nice to meet ya, me names johnny"

as you continue eating your meal, he pulls out his. you take the chance to gaze up at his face, well more his hair. his kind ofd grown out Mohawk made you think what his personality was like. he seemed nice so far.

strange.

you couldnt say it wasnt pretty hot though, obviously you wouldn't tell people that! you were barley a week into being at this school and you had liked it so far, you wouldnt want your chances ruined because of your silly attraction to his hair. his fluffy, brown long hair.

"what department ye in, bonnie?"

"art"

"hm." he sits whilst chewing down on his beef sandwich.

the two of yous talked for a while, the whole of lunch actually. a few people tagged along, just another teacher who you had been talking too for the last few days, she was nice. her name was liv and she was luckily another art teacher. you three were talking, mostly about you : where you came from,other schools youve been at and what you thought on this school.

everyone shared their opinions on the school, you thought it was decent whilst the other two liked it. they had told you after a bit all the flaws dont seem like flaws. it was entertaining, all the rumours and drama that went around.

lunch soon finished and johnny smiled cheekily once more at you, "what days will you be working?"

"i get mondays off" you reply with a happy smile. "great! i ken see ya everyday" he smirks.

you giggle nervously at him and nod, "ill see ya, johnny"

"bye hen"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @nic-stars // @snowyaddiction

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

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444rockstargf · 4 months

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Can you write a fic with Euronymous being a dick as usual and the reader gets fed up and breaks up with him? Then he gets like really emotional afterwards but she doesn’t take him back no matter what? Plssss

finally some emotional euro!

"loving you is hard, being here is harder." | euronymous

high by the beach. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @vanlisbon @lankysimp @monkeyfart @simply-stellarr

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 1.1k

contents: slight public humiliation, a little bit of angst, break up, rejection

your shaky hands carefully painted each precise detail of euronymous’ corpse paint, the heavy ruckus from rehearsal breaking your stamina. you dipped the brush in the small puddle of black paint on the dresser, dragging it across his pasty skin to finish up his eye area.

you held your breath as you tried to paint the area as smoothly as possible, but it all went in vain when the alarming noise of glass bottles breaking, followed by the eruption of curses and laughter ruined your focus. you flinched at the sound, accidentally painting a black line that ran down his entire cheek, messing up the whole area.

euronymous’ eyes travelled to the mirror beside him, his dark pupils shrinking at the sight of your mistake. a snarl pulled at his lips as his head snapped in your direction, icy eyes burning a hole into your soul. “oh for fucks’ sake! can i even count on you to do anything right?!” he shoved past you, knocking the brush out of your hand, smearing black paint onto the dress you’d picked out just for his concert.

you dropped to your knees, picking up the brush and looking up at him. “i-i’m sorry, oystein. it was an accident, i swear it. just let me fix it…” he grabbed a bottle of beer from a broken table, shooting you a cold glare. “don’t bother. if i knew you weren’t capable of doing something as simple as this, i never would’ve even asked you in the first place.” his voice dripped with bitterness that you knew all too well.

your eyes pricked with tears as you brought yourself back to your feet, cleaning off the brush as you cautiously approached him. “it’s really not that bad. j-just let me-” he whirled around to face you, his voice loud enough to earn the attention of everyone. “i said dont fucking bother!” his words hit you right in the chest, sending big tears rolling down your cheeks as the room finally fell silent.

you stared at him with a broken expression, trying to muster the strength to speak without breaking down. “i said i was sorry.” your voice broke in the middle of the sentence, making you sound like a small child, causing a smirk to tug at his black painted lips. “i don’t want your apology. if you’re done being so useless, then you can get out of my sight.” he shoved the bottle into your chest, making you hold it as he grabbed his leather jacket.

you stood there, trembling as his words echoed through your mind. you didn’t even notice the tears that rapidly poured down your face. the pain ate through your heart as the band made their way to the stage. euronymous was halfway out the door before he stopped, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket, and walking toward you.

he held the cigarette between his teeth, looking down at you. “light this for me, would’ya?” your eyes met his but behind the wall of tears, there was an unfamiliar hatred that made his smug expression wither. you wiped your tears with the back of your head, walking away. he grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved his bottle back at him, the glass breaking at his feet.

his jaw dropped slightly, the cigarette falling from his lips. anger flickered in his eyes once again, but yours was much greater. “is this how little you think of me?! that i’m so useless that i don’t deserve any love or respect?!” his eyes widened with shock. you had never talked about your feelings around him, nevermind raised your voice. he quickly took his hand off of you, his voice cracking slightly. “don’t make a scene, angel… not here.”

he was interrupted by the loud shriek of the audience’s cheering. the show was just about to begin. you grabbed your things from the dresser, putting them in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder as you made your way to the exit door. you were stopped by the soft sound of his voice. “d-dont leave, baby… it hasn’t gotten to this.” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could hear the tears in his voice.

you walked out the door, but he rushed up behind you, taking your hand in his. “at least let me take you home. please…” you sighed, snatching your hand back from him. “don’t fucking bother.” with that, you left, disappearing into the darkness of the night and leaving him with black tears streaming down his face.

~ ~ ~

it had been officially 72 hours since you had broken up with euronymous. you sat alone in your apartment room, mindlessly scrolling through tv channels as a heavy rainstorm raged outside. you couldn’t remember the last time you weren’t around him, but to your surprise, you didn’t feel the empty void you always thought you would if he ever left you. you felt… free.

you lay on your couch, dressed in your simple tank top and pajama shorts that you always wore on saturdays. you had wasted no time removing all remnants of him from your life. your walls stood bare, missing the many pictures of him that they held. you’d thrown out everything that reminded you of him and burned every keepsake that you’d collected from him.

your thoughts were interrupted when a quiet knock sounded at your door. you stood up, shuffling your way to answer it. you looked through the peephole, and you were met by that same pair of cold blue eyes. you groaned quietly before opening the door with a blank expression on your face. he was completely drenched. he stood three feet away from you, but his presence seemed to wrap you in a dark blanket.

his hands were behind his back as he gave you a little smile, his eyes red-rimmed like he had just been crying. you looked him up and down, judging his scruffy attire, but before you could speak he held out a box of your favourite candy in one hand and a beautiful, dark red rose in the other.

you remained silent, but his broken voice began to speak. “i-im so sorry, angel… you deserved so much better than how i treated you…” he had to clear his throat before continuing, turning his face away from you to hide his tears. “it kills me inside knowing that i drove you to this point, a-and i… ” he choked out small sobs as his hands began to tremble. “i can’t believe i let myself hurt you…”

the sight of his tears made your heart swell. his trembling intensified, most likely because of the rain. you sighed, looking him right in the eye. with the look you gave him, he could’ve fallen in love with you all over again. you swallowed hard before breaking the silence. “we didn't work out. and i don't think we ever will.” you shut the door in his face, leaving him in the rain as he carried the everlasting knowledge that he lost you for good.

author's note: why'd i start crying while writing this. thank you so much anon for this prompt 😭

#rory culkin #euronymous #lords of chaos #angst #light angst #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin x reader #culkin cult #break up #high by the beach #honeymoon #honeymoon album #lana del rey #elizabeth woolridge grant #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #lizzie grant #lizzy grant #444rockstargf

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victimeyez · 7 months

Text

Levels

Professional//Victim

masterlist: x Prev: x Next:

taglist: @suspicious-whumping-egg @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter @whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery @thembology @2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds @morning-star-whump

Please read content warnings in the tags.

LEVELS

Tommy woke up to his door shutting hard behind Caius, who re-locked it behind him before pocketing the keys.

Tommy startled at the sound, and clutched his sheet to his chest for a moment, trying to calm himself.

Caius wasn’t holding any food or medications. That wasn’t a good sign. He had that serious look on his face, the one where he pretended he didn’t enjoy his pain. Damnit.

“You’re in trouble.”

Tommy’s stomach dropped. He started to sit up against his pillow, but hissed with the pain his movement inspired. He sank back down and pulled the sheet up over his nose.

“Why?”

Caius sighed, disappointment clear on his face.

(Fucking prick.)

“You can’t try to talk to me when you’re with a client, Tommy. You know that.”

(Oh.)

It all came back to him then. Lisa’s hair framing a face his mind had already blurred. Mark’s hands on him - no. Stop it. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. Stop. Stop the thoughts.

Tommy turned from him and stared at the ceiling. He hated that his eyes prickled, threatening tears. Was it not enough? Was living like this not a punishment on its own? He felt like he couldn’t go any lower than how he felt after last night.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy said, and his broken voice sounded sincere. He was sorry he ever tried. He was sorry he still thought there was hope. His apology was just a weak attempt to shield whatever was left of himself.

“No meds for a week.”

He shot up in bed at that, grimacing at the pain.

“A week?!”

“Could be longer,” Caius offered with a raised eyebrow. Tommy sucked in a breath and became silent.

“Antibiotics?”

“You’ll get those. Nothing for the pain.”

“But- but,” He scrambled for some defense.

“Pain - pain management is an important part of the healing process, you’ll delay my recovery and it’ll be that much longer before I can - before I can go with another client.”

It was technically true. A plea to Caius’s logic was his only possible bargaining chip.

Caius pretended to chew it over for a moment. This logistic hadn’t slipped his mind, and he had already made peace with it. He stepped back to the door and unlocked it once more.

“I can wait.”

He didn’t give Tommy a chance to reply. The door locked behind him, and Tommy slumped back to his mattress. Helpless tears finally spilled from his eyes and he wanted to scream and scream.

He hadn’t even had a chance to take inventory of the damage yet. His ass felt like he’d been sitting on hot coals, it still radiated heat like a particularly brutal sunburn. His wrists and ankles felt swollen and sore to the slightest touch. Trying to move his hands only made the muscles spasm, and they were too weak to lend him his usual control.

A whole week without painkillers. He’d taken them away before, but never that long. It meant he could count on sleepless nights up with the agony. Even though he rarely broke rules anymore, his punishments got worse, not better.

He wanted to scream and curse Caius, but “throwing a tantrum” would only land him a harsher sentence. He rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow and punched the mattress until he was exhausted and hurt enough to slump back down to rest.

He clenched his eyes closed, begging his body for sleep again. One week without drugs would last an eternity.

—

He’d made it through four days. For four days, Caius made him take daily walks to keep his body from seizing with pain. The rest of the time, he laid as still as he could and wallowed. He wanted to be left alone, but Caius suddenly had all the time in the world for him.

“Go,” Caius instructed, gesturing to the basement steps. Standing at the bottom, Tommy could not imagine making his way up them, just as he had every other day. He didn’t want his sentence lengthened, but he swallowed hard at the prospect of another arduous journey up.

Caius’s hands found his shoulders and he guided him to the first stair, his touch agitating the wounds on Tommy’s shoulders.

“Could you - I could follow you? I just - need a minute.”

“You can do it. One step at a time.”

He was already trembling on his feet. His ankles pulsed with a dull, merciless pain. His legs hurt, his ass hurt, his thighs were still sore to the point of weakness.

“I don’t think I can do this, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, can we just - I can walk a few times around the basement maybe? I-”

He was cut off by a hard shove between his shoulders, sending him sprawling onto the stairs.

“If you can’t walk, then you can crawl.”

Caius moved up onto the stairs, and leaned down to grip a generous handful of the prone boy’s hair. He started to ascend the stairs, dragging Tommy close behind by his hair. Tommy had to start scrambling up the steps on his hands and knees to try to keep up. His hands fluttered around Caius’s grip, wanting to wrench his fingers open, but he didn’t dare. The cement was cold and gritty under his palms and his knees, but he dragged himself up each step, desperate to end the pain. At the top he was released, and he crumpled to the floor, breathless with the strain.

Caius let him lay there for a few minutes until he bored, moving again and beckoning to Tommy to follow. Tommy pulled himself onto trembling legs, leaning heavily against the wall. Caius coaxed him forwards, taking him a different path than they usually took for these walks.

Tommy grit his teeth and walked.

He was so focused on trying to stabilize that he didn’t realize where they were heading until he was led to the bottom of the upstairs stairwell. The stairs there were carpeted and clean, with an elegant banister slithering up the side. When Caius directed him to take the stairs, he balked.

Looking into Caius’s face was like trying to read a mask, but Tommy searched for a clue if this was some kind of sick test. He had never been to the upper floor. He assumed that’s where the others lived, or worked, or whatever they did with most of their time.

Caius waved him on, one eyebrow quirked expectantly.

“Caius…I don’t think I’m allowed up there…”

(What fresh hell is this? A trick? He played those sometimes…)

“I’m telling you to go up, so you aren’t allowed to go anywhere else.”

Tommy held his hands to his chest, squeezing them to console himself. The stairs looked endless, curving to the side and out of sight after an already arduous stretch.

“Please Caius, I’m trying, I am, but the stairs, I really don’t think-”

He was interrupted by the sharp snap of Caius’s fingers in front of his face, followed by a sharp finger pointing up the stairs.

“Three more days.”

Tommy gasped, his hand rising to touch Caius’s arm for just a moment before he remembered himself. He didn’t know what he was trying to do, he just - wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to hold onto him. He had nothing more to comfort himself than the very source of his misery.

Judging by the murderous glare Caius was giving him, he was out of time.

When Caius got in this kind of mood, Tommy knew to shut up and put his head down. In the moment it took to register consciously, he was already stepping up the stairs, his hands reaching out to the carpeted stairs ahead of him tentatively. His back felt agonizingly stiff, but being able to support himself more comfortably on all fours helped a little.

(Ignore the pain. Put it in the back of your mind. Move. Just keep moving.)

He made it to the top and froze, unsure of what to do. Caius was only a step behind him, and his fingers hooked the back of his collar. He guided him by the back of the neck over to a tall white door. There was a skylight above them casting soft, bright light down, and Tommy’s eyes watered with the change from his dim basement room. Tommy pushed himself onto his feet and stood uncertainly in the hallway. Caius quickly moved to corner him up against the door, and Tommy blindly grabbed for the handle, finding it locked. Caius was too close, so suddenly, and Tommy could smell him, could feel his breath on his face. The warmth of his body pressing him against the cool wood, reaching beside his hip to unlock the door and turn the handle.

He released his grip on the collar with a grin.

Tommy stumbled backwards as the door gave way, sprawling on the floor in a defeated heap. He groaned and covered his face with his arms, trying to shield his face. Some days, Caius just wanted his pain. It was starting to look like one of those days.

Caius padded in behind him and closed the door. From between his fingers where he laid on his side, all Tommy could see were his feet.

He shivered there, for a moment, anticipating the blows. (At least the carpet is soft.)

(Fuck. Really, really soft.)

He forgot how nice a good carpet felt. The one in his “bedroom” was old and ground into a thin mat over the cement. The carpet beneath him was a clean cream color with padding beneath him, making it cushier than his mattress.

Moments passed and there was no strike. A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him up until he was sat against the side of an enormous bed, a rich blue comforter spilling over the side. He looked blearily up at Caius, who crouched before him. He pinched his chin and turned his face from one side to the other, looking at his eyes.

(Why am I in your bedroom?)

He didn’t say anything. He’d already switched gears, resigned to whatever Caius fancied doing to him today. The new environment and the big bed put him ill at ease though, and he felt nauseous. His brain was in low power mode, trying to forget what was happening as soon as it did. He wanted to walk far away from his mind and stay somewhere where the carpet was always so soft and clean.

His eyes accidentally connected with Caius’s for a moment. He always forgot what he looked like somehow, and it was so hard to look him in the face. The clear rim of his glass, the chestnut strands that cradled his face. Those dark brown eyes.

He looked like the devil to Tommy.

“Stay.”

He nodded numbly, grateful when Caius turned away and broke eye contact. For some reason, he couldn’t make himself look away first.

Caius pulled a long chain lead from the top drawer of his nightstand. Tommy leaned his head back and submitted his throat to him, accepting the lead locking onto his collar with nothing more than a nervous swallow.

(Better than being dragged by my hair…I think.)

When Caius rose, he pulled the leash, and Tommy struggled to his feet. He was afraid to support himself on the comforter, the fabric too fine for his calloused touch.

Caius coaxed him onto the bed with a tug of the chain. The moment Tommy made contact with the bed he whimpered, his muscles turning to jelly in fear of retribution. But Caius joined him on the bed and sat up against his pillows, winding the chain around his fist to gather Tommy closer. He reluctantly crawled to him, the nausea growing stronger.

(Don’t do this. Don’t open that door.)

Caius settled him on his side though, and drew his head down to his lap. One hand curled possessively in his hair again. Tommy braced himself, but his fingers gently combed through, soothing and untangling the strands. Lately, he could get whiplash with how fast Caius’s moods came and went. Shocking, blinding cruelty would be followed with unnerving gentleness

. A book was fetched from his nightstand and rested open on his cheek, one wing of the hardcover supported balanced on his face.

“Having had some time at my disposal when in London, I had visited the British Museum, and made search among the books and maps in the library regarding Transylvania; it had struck me that…”

The bed was cushy, and sank in generously at his touch. It unnerved him, a gnawing feeling plaguing him that the mattress might sink like quicksand beneath him. In spite of himself, he began to relax to the soothing cadence of Caius’s voice, slowly relinquishing the tension coiled in his body. With his face covered, he didn’t have to focus on making his expression acceptable to his unpredictable host. The fingers in his hair didn’t pull or punish, and their rhythmic caresses started to lull him to sleep.

Caius smelled…he smelled like sandalwood. He smelled clean. He smelled warm. He felt warm, his legs beneath him radiating a comforting warmth.

Tommy’s heart suddenly ached fiercely. Desperate to soothe it, he nuzzled into the warm body beside him. Caius paused as it upset his book, but he let Tommy cuddle closer without correction.

It had just started to overwhelm him, this odd moment of domesticity. He’d been alone for so long, and the gentle touches were few and far between. He just wanted to embrace the feeling while he had it, before it could slip through his fingers. He’d spent so long just trying to numb the world out, it felt so good to be here and pretend he wasn’t prey in the arms of a predator.

Caius held him, and it felt good.

“I never used to be able to keep a relationship.”

Tommy tilted his head to look at Caius. Their eyes met, and Caius looked into his face so fully and honestly that it paralyzed him.

“It wasn’t a problem getting them, but they never stayed. They wanted me until they saw all of me and then they left.”

Silence hung between them. Tommy was wordless at the sudden admission.

“I guess my longest relationship is you, huh?”

A chill ran down Tommy’s spine. Caius’s hand touched his cheek and he stared at it, enraptured by the contact with his ward. There was something wrong in that look. He didn’t look at him like a lover, but like a doll. Like a muse.

Tommy shrank away from his touch, but Caius’s hand caught him and pushed his head down to his lap. Suddenly his touch didn’t feel so warm and so gentle. The ache came back to Tommy’s chest, as the warm feeling drained from his face.

(You can’t always play pretend.)

“You know I used to do insurance? That’s how I met Rory. We just clicked, he was the only good thing about the job. One day he tells me that his tech whiz friend has got this start-up….that was Michelle. But he wanted us to relocate to Quebec. Can you imagine living in Quebec? Working for some french freaks?”

Tommy wondered if they would have taken him at all. If some boy up north was spared being in his place because of a sliver of francophobia.

“Once he moved here, it all kinda fell into place.”

Tommy missed the other story.

“You know, I never let my licenses lapse. I’ve renewed them three times. I just kept thinking, this is too good to be true. Something’s going to happen and I’ll be back at a desk.”

His position no longer felt comfortable, and Caius’s hand was fully pushing down on his head, seemingly without noticing. He could feel his heart start to pound.

“I think I’ll let them go this year. All in, I guess.”

Anger burned suddenly on the back of Tommy’s neck.

(Are you committed now? Finally into it? I’ve been in it all along. You took away my choice and locked me in a basement and let people torture me for money. You took my life away…but now you finally want to take the reins and invest? I hope Hell exists just so there’s a place for people like you.)

“Hey. I know you hurt. I know it’s been really hard to get through the last few days. How would you like to make a deal?”

Tommy turned his head at that. He was weak for Caius’s deals. He could never manage to turn them down, no matter how many times he paid for it. But sometimes it wasn’t so bad, so he always fell for the bait.

He stared at Caius’s chest, unable to meet his eyes again.

“That’s what I thought you might say,” Caius said with a smile, to Tommy’s obviously piqued attention.

“You take another punishment now, and I’ll count it for the rest of the week.”

(Oh, no.)

(He had to take it, right? What’s a little more pain in the short term? He could just get his drugs right after, right?)

(No, don’t get ahead of yourself. At least ask.)

“What punishment?” he murmured.

“You’ll get the cane,” Caius answered. He said it in that humiliating way, as if he was explaining something in a caring voice.

He mulled it over briefly. Canings were fucking agony, but it might be worth it to cut his time short.

(Fine.)

“Okay.” It came out in a whisper.

As soon as he said it, it started to really sink in. He was suddenly stunned in disbelief that this was happening, As Caius moved him to the side and slipped off of the bed, making his way to his closet. When Caius returned, holding a long, thin whip of a stick. He suddenly remembered sobbing underneath it the last time Caius took him to task. He couldn’t even remember what he had done. Sometimes he didn;t have to do anything at all.

Caius directed him on the bed like a trainer handling his dog, putting him in the same position his last clients had whipped him in. His face down on Caius’s soft sheets, his chest pressed to the mattress. On his knees, and Caius reached between his legs to take his hands. He pulled his hands through and coaxed him to grip his ankles, holding himself in that humiliating position.

Caius’s hands brushed over his ass before slipping his fingers into his waistband and tugging them down.

Tommy whimpered as he was exposed, the fabric feeling like sandpaper as it slipped over the raw skin there.

“Wait, Caius, wait, I take it back, I don’t want to do this.” It came out in rush as the panic properly started to set in, realizing how bad this was going to hurt. He was already covered in wounds, the bruises fully ripened, the skin starting to itch and crack. He let go of his ankles and tried to pull his hands back before Caius could stop him.

He didn’t succeed, and Caius’s hands on his wrists gripped like claws.

“No, that’s not how this works. You took the deal.” Already having anticipated this, Caius grabbed a roll of tape he had secreted onto the bed.

“You’ll keep your hands right there if you want to be forgiven the rest of the week. Otherwise, you’ll get both.”

Tommy held onto his ankles as hard as he could, until his hands hurt as much as his feet. He felt like a great weight was coming down on him as Caius wound the tape around his fists, mummifying him there as he bound the limbs together.

Tommy was already crying when Caius finished wrapping him. He felt a hand on his hip, a curious thumb tugging at the edges of his pain. Getting a good look at him in this state. He told himself he had only imagined it as soon as he heard the soft click of the phone camera behind him.

“Caius please, please Caius, don’t hurt me, please don’t hurt me anymore,” He begged, but there was no answer to his prayers.

He heard the soft whistle through the air before Caius struck him. It lit up a long slash of pain on his backside, and he panted under the blooming pain. Whip. Whip. Criss-crossing over and over on the backs of his thighs, down nearly to the backs of his knees and up to the swell of his ass. The blows were quick and merciful, reducing him to a sobbing mess of trembling flesh. It burned so bad and he pulled frantically on his bindings, trying to escape the steady battering. Caius started to hit harder, or maybe it just hurt more and more, or maybe both. Sometimes Caius just needed to work something out tanning his hide, and the pain was horrific.

(His own, personal whipping boy.)

The soft mattress beneath him felt like less of a comfort as his face sank in, and he struggled to catch a breath as he wailed into the sheets. At least his knees didn’t hurt. The give of the cushion underneath him let him rock very slightly back and forth, the best he could do to ease the desperate need to move away.

The steady hits sped up and plateaued, finally slowing and stopping. It could have been a hundred strikes. It could have been five, but it took centuries until he was satisfied. He was sweating frantically, and the salt stung his welted skin.

“There we go, that got us there.” Tommy felt like a quivering slab of raw meat on a platter before him. Caius left for a while, letting Tommy cool off and finish his crying jag. When he returned, he had a pot of ointment in his hands. He worked the thick salve into his skin slowly, working an agonizing massage across the bloody strokes. Tommy whimpered and whined with the pain, but the intimate touch stirred unwanted tingles of pleasure in him. He pressed his thighs together firmly, but he couldn’t keep it up with how weak his legs felt.

Finally Caius was done molesting him and cut away the tape holding him in place. Tommy rolled over onto his side and dry sobbed until Caius decided to put him back. Mercifully, Caius helped ease him down the stairs, and took him over his shoulder to carry him the last few yards to his room.

Tommy laid on his bed and shivered. His bed wasn’t more comfortable, but it was familiar. His whole body pulsed with pain. Caius tethered him and Tommy struggled to keep his eyes open, he was so tired after the whole ordeal, though he doubted he would be able to sleep.

(Wait. The meds.)

“Can I please have my medicine now?” The idea of getting some relief from the pain made his teary-eyed all over again.

“Yes, after the three extra days you earned.”

(No)

(No.)

“Caius!” he moaned, but then his breath caught in his throat.

“I’ll be back after tea,” Caius promised as he locked the door behind him, leaving Tommy to burn in his bed.

#captive whumpee #professional//victim #sadistic whumper #intimate whumper #caning #punishment

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tittysuckersworld · 3 months

Note

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAAAASE!!!!! tell me about your huhhhhh fem skk au .... actor dazai.. band chuuya. idk where the post went i think it was you, i beg, on my hands and knees i love them. plzplzplz (agree with ur tags btw me2:(( )

I AMMM THE PERSON WITH AUU THANK YOU FOR ENABLING MEEEEEE- ehem hi hallo i am yes hi sudhsudjs okay ya uhhhhh hm im not sure where to start from where left off- rant got long so under cut is more :>

but pretty much soukoku as an idol group til the photographer/aspireing writer oda somehow gets in a scandle and has his parental rights to his kids taken away. before was shared custody but now is.. not.

at this point dazai was already very ready to quit being an idol. so to try and cover up the oda scandal she leaks some pictures of her kissing some people earlier in her career and some mysterious ginger lady....... she also sets up a bomb under one of the agencys cars to really blow everything over.

chuuya is not happy with this. very not happy with this.

but, now she has the freedom to do whatever she wants with her music. so she gose full pop-punk rock<3<3<3<3 and also this is where stupid animatic make their way into my plan. remember the song black sheep cover by lady in schot pilgram, this is one song chuuya makes when she hits it off on her own. she also gets really popular when she moves to pop punk rock

okay dont actually have much else planned with this- just that 2-3 years later dazai publishes a book and its a crazy best seller. talking about the inner workings of the industry and is working on her next books. mabey publishes another in like a year. i am not fully sure timeline-

the dazai leaving the agensy and car bomb really give off breaking up vibes to chuuya til a hose soaked dazai is in front of her door. not even fake rain just blondie(kunikida) got mad at her plan and desided to try soaking the prick. i dont think they immediately start dating again, but they do at some point. and is secret dating ya.

dazai just shows up to some of chuuyas shows? its a running gag that dazai will somehow get on stage and fuck with chuuya. or mess with the lights. or just anything to make a lil ruckus. the media has no clue how dazai keeps ending up at them at the right place and right time.

so! one time 4-5-6 years after dazai leaves the company and a few years of them dating again, dazai sorta.. stops coming to the shows for a little? like seems to be super busy with new book or smth.

animatic timee

then on anniversary chuuya desides to sing one of her old songs. and dazai is sitting in the croud. and is so so much. at the end the light moves over to dazai in the croud as she walks tword the stage. then the lights shut off when shes on the stage. just those two, heres their dialog have thought up, will be little janky not best but im trying. pls change if want.

Ch: "oh so right here-"

D: "Chuuya Nakahara. that first day i met you. that was begrudgingly one of the best days of my life. you were one of the best things in my life. you are one of the best things in my sorry life."

*the sprinklers to the concert all go off*

Ch: "DAZAI?!!?!"

D:"Remember that first arcade date? it was raining so hard we got instantly soaked. got sick for a week with our managers yelling at us. i hated it, but i hated it with you."

D:"or how we snuck out durring that one stop in paris? i was able to get that shitty corner store wine and a day old baguette and you smiled so wide. it was like the sun opened up in front of me."

D:"Mabey instead you could think of that one time, after that accident at that one fan meet. where you slowly unwound and rewound my bandages. kissing each little thing. had to drag you off before you tryed kissing every molecule of my arms."

Ch, wispering: "Osamu.."

D:"Chuuya Nakahara. i am sick of telling lies to the world. im sick of hiding how my eyes can light up hearing your snorts. im sick of hiding the butterflys in my stomach whenever we brush hands on the sidewalk. im sick of not being able to say and shout to the world im yours. so today, no more hiding."

by this point any audience people that stayed are using the flash on their cameras to take pictures, and dazai had bent down to one knee.

D:"Insted, how about we be Chuuya Nakahara-Dazai and Osamu Dazai-Nakahara? from today to death do us part, will you marry me?"

and yada yada ruegfuejhrbe okay yup not sure thats any good- half tempted to have chuuya take the knee here but i think she dose her own cute more private proposal for her engagement back. but yee thats all i got planned!! thank you so much for enabling me and pls pls pls if wanna talk more about this me dms are so so so so open and so is my ask box please begging

#<3<3<3 #bsd #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs chuuya #dazai x chuuya #bsd chuuya #fem chuuya #fem dazai #fem soukoku #dazai bsd #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #soukoku #ssk #bsd sskk #bsd soukoku #thank you again aaaaaa

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meowzilla93 · 7 days

Text

this is a rant, vent, jumble of words im feeling and need to get it out of my system because im a little done

please scroll along if you dont wanna read, or dont, i dont control you

it never ceases to amaze me just how cruel people in fandoms can be. cruel, mean, hyprocritical, straight up dumb.

dont get me wrong, these people are a minority. i have found myself amongst the best sort of people in fandoms i am a part of and couldnt be happier for the friendships i have made from them.

but this incredibly loud minority piss me off to no end. i stay away from any sort of discourse, silently watching from the background and watch thing blow up over trivial matters, and then learn who to avoid in those circles and move on with my life

but when i see, what i consider to be blatant bullying, to someone i hold dear, i dont want to be quiet anymore. im not a loud figure, im a tiny blog that loves to simp over 2d characters, a tiny stream channel that i interact with like minded people. and i mean i am TINY, im barely a blip on this wide web. so anything i say, it doesnt go anywhere, so still, i stay silent until i cant anymore.

so lets get to the crux of the matter.

if you dont like a character, you dont get to make others feel bad about liking them. i dont care if you think they are problematic, if you dont like their story, their look, or simply the fact that they exist

you dont get to make someone feel bad for finding a connection with them and loving them

you dont get to attack them about liking the character, passively or aggressively, you dont get to make fun of them and any of the work they do around them. you have no right to take it upon yourself and make someone feel like they dont belong just because they like a character that you dont

if you dont like the character, dont fucking interact, its that bloody simple. scroll away. mute the tag, mute the channel, whatever. just walk away

interacting with someones content for the pure purpose to make fun of it is cruel. you are making it public that you want to demean the person for what they enjoy. and the worst thing is, if you catch the attention of the younger audience, they learn that they get to act that way, and this kind of online activity only gets worse

it already has gotten worse. man, im a millenial and i thought keyboard warriors when i was in highschool and older where bad. these days the younger generation feel justified to think that they can say whatever they want and suffer no consequences of those actions. i see it in so many fandom discourses. its horrible

but they learn from the worst of us on the internet. the more they see the cruel interactions, the more they think its okay to act that way. and without a doubt, fandoms will end up being incredibly toxic environments that people wont feel comfortable to exist in anymore.

every fandom has a toxic space, its unfortunate but it is true. i wish it wasnt

and the smaller the fandom, the louder this toxic group is

it just fucking sucks. and watching people i care about be treated so badly hurts because all i can do is be their support. an ear, a shoulder, just someone they can vent to. but it doesnt stop the fact that they got hurt and i cant do anything about it

god i dont even know what this even turned into. im tired, im upset, im just so frustrated.

why cant people just be nice?

if you managed to read all the way down here, man i applaud you. that was a great mess of thoughts, i still have many more but at this point i feel like i would be repeating myself

please, just. be kind guys. its not that hard, i swear it

to all my moots, honestly, i love you guys. seeing all your work and love you put into your creations gives me life and brightens my day. dont ever stop loving your craft and your fav characters just because someone decided to be a prick.

#meow rants!#honestly if you read this you are a champion lol #do good #be nice #this really is just a jumble of thoughts i needed to get out and what better place than a tiny blog #i wish i could do more but alas this is all im good for #to all my moots i love you all

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

Text

DEFINE ME | Neymar Jr x Oc [3]

Summary: Famous Singer and Actress, Gabriella Hamill, travels to Qatar after being invited on live television by her favorite player, Lionel Messi. Despite the invitation, Ella tries to avoid the cameras and hide in plain side, wanting to enjoy the games without the chaos that comes with being in Public places and it all seems to be going well until she meets Neymar Jr. in this bad boy meets good girl story, the definition of good and bad is lost between the lines and redefined by the past and future.

《 previous chapter

Chapter 3: insomniac by definition

Chapter summary: Gabriella starts realizing that perhaps neymar has more power over her than she thought.

Writer's note: thanks for the love!! Dont forget to comment to unlock the next chapters!!!

Tagging a few that seemed interested @xngelsau @sirensanction @reneyahh @thegrinch101 @geekwritersworld @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (lmk if you want to be tagged)

Gabriella was taking small bites from her croissant while scrolling through twitter. The fans were already talking about Neymar following her. Maggie was sitting across from her, talking about him following her was a disaster. She said that doing nothing would be best, everyone would just assume he followed her because of Messi. A part of her felt bad for not following him back but she knew there would be no coming back from that and by the time she had hit the follow bottom everyone would suspect she was in Qatar.

“Remind me what we have to do for the day?” she asked Maggie, not taking her eyes off her phone.

“We are on vacation; we don’t really have anything to do.”

“No games?”

“Brazil game is tomorrow.” Said Maggie eating a spoonful of the fresh cake she had bought. She glanced at Gabriella with a warning look. Gabriella smiled.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Maggie swallowed her food and crossed her arms, laying back on her chair. “I have a feeling I will regret everything about this trip when we get home.”

“We are not going home, we are going to Greece, remember?”

“Oh I remember! Do you remember? Because I can already imagine you packing for brazil!”

Gabriella laughed “I don’t even like him! He’s an entitled prick! Last thing I need in my life is to get mixed up with his shit.”

“Yes, because bad boys are totally not your type.”

Gabriella let down her phone and looked at Maggie with complain in her eyes “low blow!”

Maggie smiled and got up, picking up her dirty plates and glass. “4 years is a long time out of the game Gabriella” She walked to Gabriella’s side, looking down at her “I said it before and I’ll say it again. Be careful.”

Maggie left for the kitchen and Gabriella looked back at her screen, Neymar’s picture glowed in it. Then a text appeared on the top of the screen, it was from Leo and it wrote “los chicos quieren volver a verte. ¿Te importa si los llevo antes del entrenamiento?.” She had to google the translation just to be sure that he was asking if the kids and Antonella could stay with her while he was training. In other circumstances she would have thought twice before saying yes but she couldn’t even leave the house and she had nothing better to do so she agreed.

BRAZIL’S BASE – QATAR

Neymar was already finished with his morning training, he was sitting, wet after the shower, on the edge of his bed. His eyes were glued on his phone waiting for Gabriella to follow him back. He was nervous. He quickly opened his contacts and called his friend.

“Ola Messi. Commo estas?”

“Estoy bien. Voy a entrenar. ¿Por qué?”

Neymar hesitated; did he really want to bother his friend with this before his training. He felt like a teenage boy, getting caught writing notes for the girl on the front desk. He asked if he was going to see Gabriella, and Messi told him about his plan to leave the kids with her while he was training.

“¿Por qué ?”

“los chicos la adoraban. Quieren jugar con ella y Antonella quiere compañía.”

Of course, the kids had loved her, Neymar didn’t need to struggle to understand why they did. But now he had no good reason to see her and he couldn’t just drop off at her house. He didn’t understand why he liked being ‘bullied’ by her so much but he did, it was a quite challenge to get to know her.

“Neymar?” asked Messi from the other line, distracting him from his thoughts.

“Lo siento.” He said quickly apologizing.

“Neymar… ¿te gusta la actriz?” teased Messi, asking him the exact same thing Neymar had asked when he first saw Messi with Gabriella. He laughed and shook his head.

“No, creo que es irritante.” It wasn’t a complete lie; she was a bit annoying and entitled most times but he knew Messi would never really believe his words.

GABRIELLA’S RENTED APARTMENT

Maggie left the house about an hour after the kids arrived, she wasn’t a huge fan of their screaming. Gabriella played a lot of board games with them until they were too tired to go on and she put a movie on for them to watch, while she conversed with Antonella.

“don't get me wrong they are wonderful women- most of them at least but I spend with them every single day… Because of the games and the trips, it's always the same group. Sometimes you need different company. So, I am very happy you came and we met.”

The two of them sat on the balcony, drinking a glass of wine while they spoke.

“Please the pleasure is all mine.”

“Did you know I was a huge fan? When Messi told me about Graham Norton’s surprise, I was the one that pushed him to do it.”

“He told me and I am very grateful because meeting your Husband was very important for me.” She took a sip from her wine “He reminds me a lot of my father. I know its weird-“

“It’s not weird!” he reassured her reaching for her hand. Gabriella appreciated it and she smiled back at her.

“We’d watch his games together; my father would yell his name like he was a god.” Gabriella laughed, remembering.

“How did they die?” Asked Antonella, frowning her eyebrows. Gabriella’s eyes darkened; she knew she must have scared Antonella because she started apologizing but Gabriella shook her head to calm her down.

“No! Don’t worry, it’s fine, it was a long time ago. A car crash.”

Antonella sighed; Gabriella could see the pity in them but she didn’t mind as much because at least it was earnest. It was true. “How old were you?”

She hesitated, looked down “eight. I think it’s the worst age. You understand everything and nothing.”

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked- lets change the subject.” Antonella tapped her hands on the table, while Gabriella drank her entire drink all at ones. She nodded at the idea of changing the subject but just seconds later she regretted it. “Neymar was asking about you.”

She almost chocked on her wine, struggling to swallow what her friend had said. She hated that whatever was going on between her and Neymar had gone this far. Antonella patted her on the back while she coughed trying to breathe. “I didn’t think you’d care this much.” Antonella laughed and Gabriella raised her head “I don’t. I Absolutely don’t.”

“Sure.” Antonella smiled “well he was trying to see if you were gonna come by the house tonight again. He wanted to see you.”

“Why? All I’ve done is being rude to him- “

“I think he knows it’s a defense mechanism.” She smiled.

“It’s not and don’t tell him that it is because it will only encourage him!”

“Oh honey if Ney sets his eye on someone, he does not need encouragement.” She said, drinking her wine. Gabriella scoffed, looking at the view from her balcony, the people walking on the street.

“It’s not the right time.”

“Why not. You’re both single.”

She laughed at that “I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with someone like Neymar. You’re right maybe it is a defense mechanism because I know that it won’t be just a one-night stand with him… I’ll want more.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“My last relationship left me a little broken, I’m still picking up pieces. And a bad boy is not the right medicine.”

“Can I tell you a secret? I’ve known Neymar for 10 years and more. He’s not what the media is making him up to be… he’s a softie really. And if he only wanted a one-night stand, he wouldn’t be asking about you or following you- yes, I know about that too.”

“You really think me and him could be a thing?”

Antonella simply shrugged her shoulders and smiled. It was the answer Gabriella feared the most.

After the kids and her left the rest of the afternoon went by very quickly. She and Maggie watched a couple of movies and discussed about random things, avoiding the elephant in the room. When it was time for bed, she couldn’t sleep. She had thing heavy pain in her chest, caused by her anxiety. It was the possibility of her being into a guy again. For now, it was simply sexual, she barely knew so it couldn’t be anything more but it was different with him. In the last three years she hadn’t gotten into anything unless she was sure that she had the upper hand and with him she didn’t. He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel, like he would be able to make her do anything if she let him. Most of all he would be able to break her and she wasn’t prepared for that.

She got up from her bed and put on her usual black hoodie. She dressed in all black again and wore her white shoes. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep so she did what she always did when she was being tortured by her insomnia and she took a walk. Maybe not the smartest idea considering she was in a country she didn’t know but the neighborhood seemed safe enough. She only walked a few miles until she found herself outside of the Brazilian base. There was security all around and she knew that if she stayed too long, they would force her to leave. She stood still for a few minutes, looking at the flags hanging from the windows and imagining that Neymar was in one of them, wide awake or fast asleep. Perhaps she could text him, see what he was up to. Or She could reveal who she was and tell security to let her in- she was contemplating all these things and more when his whispers reached her ear, the wind getting warmer.

“Look whose here” he said, his lips barely touching her skin. Despite the jump scare, she didn’t react too crazy, maybe it was because his aura was captivating. All her fears were being confirmed just by a simple whisper. She didn’t turn to look at him, she kept her eyes on the flags.

“How did you know it was me?”

She regretted her question because he answered the same way that he had spoken to her before. A whisper in her eyes, lips stroking her ear, her heartbeat rising. “You got white paint on your sweater.” As he said it, he placed his hand on the right side of her back. Amazing how even over all the fabrics, his touch still had an influence on her heartbeat. “Wanna come upstairs?”

“No.” she answered quickly.

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

“Absolutely not”

“Then what are you doing here?” she tilted her head; she could finally see him. He also had hid his face covered by his hoodie. She shook her head.

“I was just taking a walk. The house is very close.”

“I know. You were the one that didn’t believe me.” He smiled “how about we continue this walk together?”

She turned her entire body to look at him, his hand moved from her back to her hip. She pushed it off her and looked in his eyes. “You’re really confident, has anyone every told you that?”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you Neymar.”

Neymar laughed and looked at her in shock. He raised up his hands in defeat “wow. Straight to the point I see.”

“I think you’re an asshole in and out of the field.” She crossed her arms and he nodded.

“noted.” He answered. Gabriella felt like she was being examined by the way he was staring in her eyes “Now how about that walk? Just so you can confirm whether that’s true or not.” He raised his hands again, smiling “promise I wont be naughty.” He made a step forward, pushing a loose strand of her behind her ear and under her hoodie. His fingers touching the red skin on her cheek “unless you want me to.”

“I’m fine” she answered quickly and slapped his hand off her. “I’m only agreeing to this because I know you’ll follow me anyway.” She said and turned to continue walking. Neymar followed right behind her, smiling.

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#imagines #football writing #football imagine #neymar #neymar x oc #neymar x reader #neymar imagines #neymar one shot #mbappe imagines

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